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soaps-mohawk · 4 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

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It’s warm outside.

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas.

You’d take anything over Texas.

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end.

But at what cost?

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.”

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them.

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.”

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely.

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice.

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle��s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours.

You can’t.

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him.

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets.

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer.

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together.

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill.

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.”

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are.

That doesn't make things hurt any less.

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller.

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.”

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas.

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand.

If, not when.

Maybe they're finally getting the message.

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you.

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He says.

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench.

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk.

It hurts.

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once.

This feels like torture.

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself.

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking.

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating.

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.”

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out.

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...”

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you.

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either.

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.”

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better.

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says.

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning.

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.”

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy.

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl.

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder.

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing.

Sometimes you don’t want to.

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury.

What if the rest of your life is like this?

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears.

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain.

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all.

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better.

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better.

You’re so tired of being like this.

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route.

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door.

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car.

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack.

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident.

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what.

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.”

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks.

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.”

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.”

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat.

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back.

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.”

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.”

“And on top of everything that happened...”

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.”

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.”

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.”

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.”

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.”

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.”

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.”

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs.

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.”

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.”

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.”

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.”

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.”

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston.

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane.

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by.

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows.

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.”

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks.

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.”

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says.

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life.

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time.

She'll be there every step of the way.

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone.

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.”

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.”

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.”

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.”

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road.

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse.

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse.

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better.

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better.

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious.

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer.

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort.

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground.

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.”

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly.

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain.

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago.

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them.

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil.

How far you still have to go.

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it.

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway.

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside.

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?”

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says.

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says.

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean.

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door.

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated.

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room.

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile.

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint.

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.”

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud.

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight.

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door.

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now.

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse.

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.”

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get.

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her.

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile.

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.”

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything.

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.”

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks?

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean.

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.”

You can hear it.

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things.

No.

You’d know that sound anywhere.

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to.

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning.

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want.

No.

You need to do this.

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment.

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe.

In and out.

Nice and slow.

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest.

No.

You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick.

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack.

Breathe.

In and out.

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center.

You can do it here.

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day.

No.

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know.

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse.

You need to know.

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning.

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you.

How easily you could slip away, though.

Well...in theory.

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state?

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have?

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well.

He could be waiting right outside the door.

No.

They’d know.

They’d protect you.

They failed.

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door.

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright.

You have to know.

You have to be certain.

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you.

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

Breathe.

You can smell it.

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found.

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home.

How simple life was back then. How easy life was.

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again.

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas.

Anything is better than Texas.

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch.

You can see it.

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care.

You can’t care.

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week.

Only a week.

So much has happened in a week.

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest.

If you fall, you’ll never get up again.

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop.

Breathe.

In and out.

You needed certainty. You needed to know.

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it.

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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femmehysteria · 1 year ago

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Best Character Named X Poll

FOLLOW @best-character-named-x-poll

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day. New polls scheduled for 1:30PM GMT everyday.

ask box closed for now

WILL BE POSTING POLLS ON @best-character-named-x-poll FROM FEB 1ST

If your favourite character is not included in the poll very sorry i have either never heard of them or actively chose not to include them as theres only 6 characters per poll. Characters will only count of that is their first name, surnames do not count.

Round 85: David

Round 86: Tiffany

Round 87: Charlie

Round 88: Sandy

Round 89: Cody

Round 90: Amanda

Round 91: Jeremy

Past Polls and Poll Ideas under the cut

Names that I have a complete list for*

Caroline, Tyler, Louis, Leonard, Rebecca, Steve, Nicole, Isabelle, Victoria, Katherine, Jade, Alex, Sophie, Greg, Jake, Ellie, Isaac, Robin, Tony, Annie, Lisa, Margaret, Oliver, Clark, Kara, Phoebe, Emma, Ruby, Bart, Alfie, Beth, Julian, Nancy, Penny, Margaret, Tessa, Erica, Theresa, George, Kevin, Sebastian, Felix, Martin, Michael, Erin, Caleb, Helen, Charlotte, Kyle, Martha, Diana, Elsa, Gary, Zoe, Connor, Colin, Daisy, Eric, Maya, Adam, Andy, Magnus, Alma, Nora, Alice, Spike, Leon, Marcel, Kim, Juno, Sue, Chris, Otto, Donald, Daphne, Kate, Todd, Ned, Ken, Angel, Judy, Jo, Hazel, Naomi, Diego, Miranda, Joel, Lila, Duncan, Dexter, Meredith, Pearl, Lily, Malcolm, Napolean, Joan, Nico, Jamie, Nadia, Velma, Jill, Kiera, Rory, Evan, Tam, Klaus, Neil, Derek, Michelle, Luna, Laila, Cordelia, Zack, Imogen, Felicity, Cindy, Alicia, Kelly, Alan, April, Astrid, Delilah, Jodie, Claudia, Juliet, Karen, Jonas, Milo, Celia, Hannah, Joy, Ethan, Katya, Aria, Atticus, Ian, Cynthia, Faye, Frank, Boo, River, Corey, Gabrielle, Minerva, Ebony, Zia, Beverly, Rudy, Georgina

Names I have an incomplete list for (welcome to send character suggestions)

Richter, Sean, Troy, Cain, Agatha, Warren, Percy, Reggie, Mina, Ryan, Felicia, Dylan, Josh, Shirley, Debbie, Jared, June, Mabel, Ray, Chad, Moe, Hugh, Fearne, Christine, Joe, August, May, Scarlet, Alana, Leela, Manny, Dean, Francis, Mason, Oscar, Quinn, Guy, Ulrich, Wally, Yasmin, Tobias, Woody, Sabrina, Quentin, Margot, Alina, Matilda, Freya, Kendra, Angus, Ophelia, Leisel, Zelda, Adora, Piper, Scarlet, Sheila, Valentine, Laurie, Laurel, Fitz, Violet, Gabriel, Ford, Artemis, Owen, Bianca, Newton, Summer, Darcy, Noah, Taylor, Miriam, Hugh, Aurora, Hank, Henry, Dawn, Delia, Cosmo, Wanda, Zeke, Cecil, Aiden, Calvin, Ayesha, Beatrice, Parker, Chase, Hunter, Tina, Misty, Amaya, Amara, Harvey, Talia, Tatiana, Tanya, Orion, Eugene, Kit, Bo, Duke, Blue, Cameron, Rudolf, Mara, Marianne, Carl

Feel free to send more suggestions

*subject to change, you can still submit a character if there is no strikethrough if you think theres a character that its an absolute crime i dont add. Please don't suggest anything for the names with a strikethrough as they are polls that are already in my queue waiting to be published.

Past Polls

Round 1: Peter : WINNER: Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

Round 2: Elizabeth : WINNER: Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean)

Round 3: Jason : WINNER: Jason Mendoza (The Good Place)

Round 4: Eve : WINNER: EVE (WALL-E)

Round 5: Fred : WINNER: Fred Jones (Scooby-Doo)

Round 6: Rachel : WINNER: Rachel (Animorphs)

Round 7: Arthur : WINNER: Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Round 8: Amy : WINNER: Amy Pond (Doctor Who)

Round 9: Tom : WINNER: Tom (Tom and Jerry)

Round 10: Claire : WINNER: Clare Devlin (Derry Girls)

Round 11: James : WINNER: James (Pokemon)

Round 12: Max : WINNER: Max (Black Sails)

Round 13: Simon : WINNER: Simon Belmont (Castlevania)

Round 14: Jane : WINNER: Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Round 15: Victor : WINNER: Victor Nikiforov (Yuri On Ice)

Round 16: Mary : WINNER: Mary Poppins (Mary Poppins)

Round 17: Will : WINNER: Will Graham (Hannibal)

Round 18: Laura : WINNER: Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Round 19: Ben : WINNER: Ben "Obi-Wan" Kenobi (Star Wars)

Round 20: Chloe : WINNER: Chloe Price (Life Is Strange)

Round 21: John : WINNER: Jonathan Sims (The Magnus Archives)

Round 22: Lydia : WINNER: Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice)

Round 23: Mark : WINNER: Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

Round 24: Jess : WINNER: Jesse Pinkman (Breaking Bad)

Round 25: Theo : WINNER: Theobald Gumbar (Dimension 20: A Crown Of Candy)

Round 26: Sarah: WINNER: Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who)

Round 27: Richard : WINNER: Richard Gansey III (The Raven Cycle)

Round 28: Cass : WINNER: Cassandra Cain (Batman)

Round 29: Edward : WINNER: Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Round 30: Carm : WINNER: Carmen Sandiego (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?)

Round 31: Hal : WINNER: HAL9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey)

Round 32: Sid : WINNER: Sydney Adamu (The Bear)

Round 33: Jack : WINNER: Captain Jack Harkness (Doctor Who)

Round 34: Stephanie : WINNER: Stephanie Brown (Batman)

Round 35: Ash : WINNER: Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

Round 36: Veronica : WINNER: Veronica Sawyer (Heathers)

Round 37: Kurt : WINNER: Kurt Wagner aka Nightcrawler (X-Men)

Round 38: Eleanor : WINNER: Eleanor Shellstrop (The Good Place)

Round 39: Nathan : WINNER: Nathan Young (Misfits)

Round 40: Fiona : WINNER: Princess Fiona (Shrek)

Round 41: Gale : WINNER: Gayle Waters-Waters (Chris Fleming)

Round 42: Barbara : WINNER: Barbara Millicent Roberts aka Barbie (Barbie)

Round 43: Sam : WINNER: Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

Round 44: Grace : WINNER: Grace Chastity (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Round 45: Barry : WINNER: Barry Bluejeans (The Adventure Zone)

Round 46: Raven : WINNER: Raven (Teen Titans)

Round 47: Dan : WINNER: Danny Fenton (Danny Phantom)

Round 48: Mia : WINNER: Mia Fey (Ace Attorney)

Round 49: Matt : WINNER: Matt Murdock (Daredevil)

Round 50: Rose : WINNER: Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Round 51: Robert : WINNER: Robbie Rotten (LazyTown)

Round 52: Lola : WINNER: Lola Bunny (Space Jam)

Round 53: Scott : WINNER: Scott Summers aka Cyclops (X-Men)

Round 54: Olivia : WINNER: Olivia Octavious (Spiderverse)

Round 55: Finn : WINNER: Finn the Human (Adventure Time)

Round 56: Emily : WINNER: Emily Charlton (The Devil Wears Prada)

Round 57: Elliot : WINNER: Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

Round 58: Sonia : WINNER: Sonia (Pokemon)

Round 59: Gideon : WINNER: Gideon Nav (The Locked Tomb)

Round 60: Jen : WINNER: Jennifer Check (Jennifer's Body)

Round 61: Miles : WINNER: Miles Morales (Spider-Man)

Round 62: Lana : WINNER: Lana Skye (Ace Attorney)

Round 63: Spencer : WINNER: Spencer Shay (iCarly)

Round 64: Tracy : WINNER: Tracy Turnbald (Hairspray!)

Round 65: Luke : WINNER: Luke Skywalker (Star Wars)

Round 66: Natalie : WINNER: Natalie Scatorccio (Yellowjackets)

Round 67: Harry : WINNER: Harry Du Bois (Disco Elysium)

Round 68: Lucy : WINNER: Lucy van Pelt (Peanuts)

Round 69: Damian : WINNER: Damian Wayne (Batman)

Round 70: Tabitha : WINNER: Tabitha Casper (Dan and Phil Games: Sims 4)

Round 71: Nick : WINNER: Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun)

Round 72: Gwen : WINNER: Guinevere (Merlin)

Round 73: Paul : WINNER: Paulette Bonafonte (Legally Blonde)

Round 74: Abigail : WINNER: Abigail Hobbs (Hannibal)

Round 75: Jordan : WINNER: Jordan Baker (The Great Gatsby)

Round 76: Donna : WINNER: Donna Noble (Doctor Who)

Round 77: Morgan : WINNER: Morgana (Merlin)

Round 78: Allison : WINNER: Alison Cooper (BBC Ghosts)

Round 79: Patrick : WINNER: Patrick Star (Spongebob Squarepants)

Round 80: Linda : WINNER: Linda Belcher (Bob's Burgers)

Round 81: Philip : WINNER: Philip J. Fry (Futurama)

Round 82: Clarisse : WINNER: Clarisse La Rue (Percy Jackson)

Round 83: Jeff

Round 84: Maria

#best character named x #poll #poll game #my post

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 8 months ago

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Chapter 12 Nemo dat quot non habet (No one gives what they do not have) - Cartagena Part 3

Took me a bit longer than expected but...

Warning: Mostly fluff and a bit of serious talk, mentions of self harm

Dialogue between <...> is in Spanish

OCs mentioned are Freya (Mini @sofasoap ), Olga (Zhar @nrdmssgs ) and Florrie and Mylène (Petra) belong to @siilvan

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @mmyrrhh @sofasoap @sinyaaa

Previous / Masterlist / Next

‘‘Never thought I’d see the day’’

Christine had to laugh at Simon’s grumbled comment, her eyes darting to what she could see of his face before going back to what they both were watching. Johnny and Gabi, dancing salsa among other patrons at the bar they were at, after having dinner.

‘‘You never thought you’d see Johnny dancing?’’

‘‘Didn’t know he could even move following a rythm’’ Simon snorted, shaking his head lightly. ‘‘God knows how bloody difficult it is to make him follow directions’’

‘‘Don’t be like that’’ She laughed again, her fingers tapping on her thighs, following the music. She had been dancing with Gabi until the previous song, then preferred to sit and allow Johnny to dance with his partner. ‘‘Freya and I taught him… he said he wanted to learn because it was a good way to pick hens up’’

‘‘Freya… think I met her last December, when Johnny’s mother and her came to base to pick him up to go North. His twin sister?’’ Simon nodded slowly when she gave an affirmative hum, absorbed by the music, and leant back in his chair with his almost finished beer in hand. They had chosen the darkest corner in the bar they could find, both for their own comfort and to avoid needless chatter with other patrons. That allowed him to drink without fear of being seen or ogled at. He didn’t mind Johnny looking, and he had waited until Gabi had left the table to dance. And everytime he had lowered his face mask, Christine had looked away politely.

His mobile phone vibrated in his pocket, and with a grunt, Simon left the beer on the table and checked the device. Curious, Christine looked at him briefly, quickly realizing he was smiling under the mask, while he typed an answer to whoever it was.

She wasn’t sure where it came from. But a dark, piercing wave of jealousy made her throat tighten in a knot, and a hollow void open in her chest, right where her heart was.

‘‘Who is it?’’ Fuck, why did she ask. What if it was some…

‘‘Price’’ Simon answered calmly. If he noticed the dark venom in her voice, he didn’t show it, but his voice was like molten lava on her ears. She couldn’t help but lean towards him, and suddenly, Simon grabbed her chair and dragged it closer while ignoring her sudden yelp, until their thighs were pressed together. ‘‘He asks how is everything, every day’’

‘‘You are fond of him, aren’t you’’ Christine looked down at her drink, stirring the straw and making the ice cubes clink together, trying to distract herself from the heat she felt on her face. Stupid jealousy. But the fact that he wanted her closer made the dark flames soothe a bit.

Next to her, Simon nodded to himself, acutely aware that something was off within her, but for the life of him couldn’t figure out what.

‘‘If I’m alive today, is thanks to him’’ And to Laswell, he thought. And to Kyle and Johnny. And even to Nikolai. Baffled, he suddenly realized how many people were closer to his dark, stunted heart than he previously realized. Mylène. Olga. More than the fingers on one hand.

Christine seemed about to say something when in that moment, Johnny and Gabi returned briefly to the table to have a sip of their mostly watered down drinks.

‘‘Having fun, here in yer dark corner?’’ Johnny teased, chuckling when all he got was a glare for both of his friends. Gabi giggled and sat down for a moment, grabbing her phone.

‘‘Oooh, this poor man’’ She rolled her eyes, and started to type an answer to some text. Johnny tried to look over her shoulder.

‘‘What’s the matter, hen?’’

‘‘Grizzly’’ Gabi chuckled when Riot exhaled a grunt, trying to focus on her drink and not roll her eyes too hard. ‘‘He’s trying to woo Florrie and is asking if I know her favourite flowers’’

‘‘Florrie is the little bird working with ye and Laswell?’’ Johnny looked over her shoulder, grinning. ‘‘Cute little thing’’

‘‘She is a doll!’’ Gabi nodded, smiling widely, in the middle of typing, Then she stopped, thinking. ‘‘Ok, what was the name…’’

‘‘Gaillardias or chocolate cosmos, but I wish him luck finding them in the UK’’ Christine huffed, stirring the straw again. ‘‘Tell him to get her poppies. If he can find californian ones, the better’’

‘‘Oh yes! Good idea’’ Gabi started typing again, without losing her smile. Christine pushed her knee with hers.

‘‘Don’t tell him it was me!’’

‘‘Too late!’’ The younger woman avoided another push from Christine’s knee, laughing, and returned her phone to her bag. ‘‘Phew, I couldn’t remember… Crisis averted! The poor sod is desperate, and she is no better… How did you know, by the way?’’

‘‘Uh… last week we were at Heather’s and you three were yapping about flowers’’ Christine tried to shrug it off, looking desperately at Johnny and Simon, but both men knew better. Gabi’s eyes flashed with delight.

‘‘You were listening!’’

‘‘Hard not to’’ Christine grumbled, leaning back in her chair as Gabi leant forward, all smiles.

‘‘So, what do you say we go have some fun before going back to the apartment?’’

‘‘Not interested’’ Simon shrugged, and Christine looked at him with gratefulness before giving her own reply.

‘‘Not interested either, but you two have fun’’

‘‘We’ll try!’’ Gabi giggled, and hugged Christine tightly, a bit too tight for the blonde woman’s liking, but she allowed it with an indulgent chuckle.

‘‘Try to be good instead’’

‘‘Where’s the fun in that’?’’ Johnny chuckled, bending down to kiss Christine’s cheek, and then patted fondly Simon’s shoulder. ‘‘Ye know, Lt, if ye need’em…’’

‘‘Fuck off, MacTavish’’ Simon grunted, but the Scot just laughed and followed his girlfriend out of the bar. The Lieutenant continued grumbling while him and Christine collected their things to leave as well.

‘‘If you need… what?’’ Christine looked up at him, with curiosity in her blue eyes, and Simon felt his ears starting to burn.

‘‘Nothing, don’t worry about it. Let’s go’’

It was a warm Spanish summer night, and there were still rays of sunlight in the horizon. The streets were full of people coming and going, drowning the atmosphere with the constant chatter and laughter.

As they walked down the street to the building where their rented apartment was, Simon almost stopped in his tracks when her pinky finger hesitatingly brushed against his. He dared to peek at her, but she was looking away, apparently interested in the shops, her ears and what he could see of her cheeks red.

Softly, just as hesitatingly, his hand closed around hers while he also looked away, his ears equally burning, but with a stupid grin under his face mask.

Maybe it was true life could be good.

In silence, they continued on, only stopping if something at a shop caught her attention, feeling her fingers tapping lightly against his to the rythm of a music that wasn’t there. That felt way better than her knee bumping against his leg.

‘‘Do you want ice-cream?’’ Christine looked up at him, raising her eyebrows, tugging lightly from his hand in the direction of the shop. He shook his head, but followed her inside, reluctant to let go of her hand.

‘‘<Hi, may I have a chocolate ice-cream, please? … That size>’’ She ordered in Spanish, trying to maneouvre with one hand to take her wallet out of her pocket, only to find Simon’s hand placing a five euro note on the counter. ‘‘Oh no, don’t you dare’’

He simply ignored her, and the shopkeeper, an elderly woman, smiled openly while filling up the ice-cream cone.

‘‘<Is that your boyfriend, dear? Does he want anything?>’’

‘‘<No…>’’ Christine blushed, still trying to fight to place her own five euro note on the counter, with Simon pushing it away. The shopkeeper giggled, looking pointedly at their hands, still intertwined.

‘‘<He isn’t your boyfriend?>’’

‘‘<Yes! No!>’’ She sputtered, even redder, and feeling even worse listening to the chuckling rumble coming from Simon. ‘‘<I mean…>’’

‘‘<The boyfriend doesn’t want anything, thank you>’’ Simon said, annoyingly calm and collected as always, but the bastard seemed to be having a great time, judging by the way his dark brown eyes sparkled.

And he managed to pay.

‘‘You didn’t have to pay’’ Christine protested once they were in the street again, continuing their path towards the apartment, but she was happily tasting the treat, with her face mask under her chin. Simon shrugged, still keeping her free hand in his.

‘‘I wanted to…’’ He looked down at her, chuckling for himself. ‘‘… sweetheart’’

She almost choked on the ice-cream, feeling her ears burn. It took a few deep breaths before she was able to even dare ask.

‘‘… are we dating now then?’’

And now it was his turn to feel his blood run cold. What were they? The question seemed stupidly childish. For months, Simon had avoided thinking about it, about the officiality of it. Dating, like two teenagers. Fucking hell.

And still, being together, hand in hand, felt strangely… apropriate. As if it should be.

‘‘I think we’re way past dating, lovie’’ He sighed, and for some reason, instead of feeling dread, his own words brought him a strange sense of peace. Acceptance. Still, he tried to tease her. ‘‘I’m afraid you have ruined me for anyone else’’

His teasing flew over her head completely.

‘‘… so have you’’ Christine murmured meekily into her ice-cream. Feeling like a fool, and ridiculous, but at the same time stupidly hopeful. The tiny voice inside her head was yelling at her that she didn’t deserve it, but she consciously tried to drown it.

‘‘That’s why you got all jealous about me texting back at the bar?’’

She wished the ground would open and swallow her.

‘‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’’

‘‘Sure you don’t’’ Simon chuckled quietly. It wasn’t expected, but it felt good. To know she felt possessive of him. Maybe it wasn’t that bad that he felt possessive of her too.

She grumbled something under her breath and offered him her ice-cream. He lowered his face mask to take a bite out of it, his eyes looking fondly at the back of her head when she turned away to not look at him by accident.

They kept their comfortable silence, walking hand in hand, until way after they arrived at the apartment. Like an old couple that understood each other without words, showering one after the other, and then crashing together on the sofa to watch the telly until Johnny and Gabi came back or they were too tired to stay up.

‘‘Where did you get that?’’

Christine turned her eyes from the tv to him, and then down to her thighs following his gaze. She was wearing again his t-shirt and her pyjama shorts, and the pinkish scar on her right thigh was visible, like the previous night.

‘‘Oh, that was in Colombia… Kate sent me to eliminate a cartel boss’’

Simon nodded, still looking at her pale, supple thigh, almost wishing he had the balls to run his fingers along the scar. They were basically cuddling again on the sofa, with Christine comfortably nestled under his right arm, and her folded legs almost on his lap.

‘‘He put up a fight?’’

‘‘Oh no, that part was easy. His bodyguards not so much though’’ She shrugged, touching the edge of the scar. ‘‘He had guard dogs. Hungry beasts that chased me all throughout the estate until I climbed up the barbed wire and… I got stuck’’

He looked at her now, confused.

‘‘You got stuck on the barbed wire’’

‘‘I didn’t want to shoot the doggies!’’ She defended herself, trying to not smile. ‘‘So instead of getting out the way I came in, I had to improvise and… I got stuck. Trying to free myself I cut my leg with the barbed wire but it wasn’t that serious, I just bruise and scar easily…’’

‘‘You got stuck on the barbed wire’’ His voice was as gravelly as ever, but there was a slight rumble in there that made her almost shiver.

‘‘Yup. Hanging like cold meat in a deli, I was’’

Simon shook his head and leaned back against the sofa, looking at the ceiling. His shoulders shook lightly as he tried not to laugh at her. But in the end he couldn’t help but chuckle openly, the mental image was too much.

‘‘I like your laugh’’ Christine blurted without thinking, and she could have died just there if he hadn’t kept laughing at her. ‘‘You laugh so little’’

‘‘I don’t often have reasons to laugh, beautiful’’ Simon looked at her again, reaching out his left hand to brush away some strands of her hair. She took the opportunity to trace lightly the tattoos on his arm. Her fingers stopped over the bomb when she felt burned, scarred tissue underneath.

‘‘That one was a bet’’ Simon hummed, looking at her fingers on his skin, and praying to any gods listening that Johnny kept his woman away from the apartment a little more.

‘‘A bet?’’

‘‘Yeah. I wanted to cover some scars too. Had a mate in my first assignment that dared me to drink until one of us passed out’’ Simon’s eyes twinkled with amusement at the memory. ‘‘The thing is, we both passed out, but he was gone first. So… I could choose where to get the tattoo’’

‘‘And the loser?’’ Christine’s fingers continued tracing the designs of his tattoo sleeve, and Simon tried very hard not to shiver.

‘‘Well… let’s say he’ll sit on it for the rest of his life’’

‘‘Oh’’ Christine laughed, and for a brief, fleeting second, Simon’s hands moved towards her waist.

Noises starting to come from outside the main door, and she turned her head to look in that direction. With the movement, the scar that marked her throat was in full view, and Simon doubted, but in the end, went for it.

‘‘What about the one on your neck, lovie?’’

It was curious, Christine thought. Had it been any other person, she would have felt dread at the question. But it was him.

‘‘I tried to cut my throat with a broken chair’’ After a couple of heartbeats, she decided to add more. ‘‘I couldn’t use my hands, I was tied up. During one of the beatings the chair broke, and I tried to end it’’

He had imagined as much, given how light and uneven it was, but nodded all the same. Gently, he took the hand that was still tracing his tattoos, and guided her fingers to his inner wrist, making her follow a couple of long lines that started there and went almost up to his elbow along his inner forearm. Covered by his tattoos, they were practically imperceptible.

Christine’s eyes found his, and Simon just shrugged, cocking his head to one side. There was no need for words.

They had never needed them. They understood.

Before any of them could think about a way to break the silence, the main door opened and Johnny and Gabi rushed inside. The happy couple barely paid attention to them, making out and grabbing at each other on the way to the master bedroom, where the door slammed shut.

‘‘Well, there goes our tranquility’’ Christine smiled, snuggling against Simon’s side again, but grabbing his arm this time, with her head against his shoulder. He was about to ask what did she mean when he heard it.

The sounds of two people going at it. Passionately.

‘‘Fucking hell…’’

‘‘Turn the volume up’’ She giggled, but it wasn’t enough to drown everything.

From time to time, they looked at each other and chuckled quietly, but as it went on, her giggles were louder, and he found it difficult to not follow her in them. And in the end, they were openly laughing their ass off, with the background noise of a bed creaking and the passionate sounds of lovemaking.

Of course they made sure to loudly clap at the end, to show their appreciation for the performance, laughing even more when Johnny cursed them out from the bedroom.

#simon riley x christine vega #simon ghost riley x christine riot vega #christine riot vega #christine vega #gabriella gabi cruz #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod oc #cod original character #call of duty original character #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfiction

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sofasoap · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas love

Summary: it's Christmas time. You and Gaz are expecting a baby, and your husband think this will be a great time to gather everyone for an early Christmas gathering, also for you to meet the ladies of 141 for first time.

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader

Part of the Miss Sunshine Universe.

Warning: mature rating. Talk of pregnancy.

Note: a very self-indulgent fic that has absolutely no plot to it. And a presents to my lovely moots. 😘

The OCs belongs to:

Myléne 'Petra' Scholten de Ridder, @eenochian

Olga 'Zhar' Samiolova, @nrdmssgs

Christine 'Riot' Vega, @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot

You clutch the plate of freshly baked chocolate biscuit in your hand as you stare up at the three women standing in front of you in awe.

“Christmas gathering?”

“I thought it might be a good idea to get everyone together before the baby comes.” Kyle said as he assembled the baby cot. “I talked to your mum and dad. They are happy to host the early Christmas party at their farm before everyone breaks off. Ah there. Done.” Gaz dusts his hand as he finishes putting the last screw in, and holds out his hand to help you stand up, pulling you into his embrace.

“And there are new people I want you to meet as well. Our lovely new Dutch Medic, she’s quite excited to meet you since I told her about the baby news.” he kisses you in the temple as both of you look around, surveying the newly set up nursery. “And Nikolai has been bugging me about wanting to bring his new partner along. He's eager to show her off.”

Your eyes brighten up. “Is Simon bringing his new girlfriend too?” you asked excitedly.

Ever since your Ma heard “the poor man has no family left to celebrate the holiday with” she made sure Johnny always brought Simon back to the farm to join in on all the family holidays.

First time he arrives at the farm, Simon grumbles about how he wants to be alone for holidays,but as soon as your Ma greets him, his demeanour changes immediately.

“Ah, you must be Simon that my two little bampot kids talked about so much!! Welcome home!! ” she exclaimed, pulling Simon down to give him a big welcoming hug.

“”Ma!!”” Johnny and you groaned at the affectionate name calling from your own mother but stopped when the two of you saw Simon returning the hug, with tears streaming down his face, with Ma giving Simon a soft pat on his back.

“Sounds like it. Soap and I were pressuring him to introduce her to the family. Your Mum said she needs to approve his future daughter in law.” Gaz laughed.

So here you are, not quite sure how to start the conversation with the three elite soldiers, while the others have scattered off to mingle after all the initial greetings and quick catch up.

“Um….. Chocolate biscuits? Freshly out of the oven?” you offered timidly.

Petra.. Or she introduced herself as Mylène, took a step forward and grabbed a piece of biscuit off the plate.

“ Oh gosh …you don’t know how much I’ve been craving for these biscuits since Soap shared some with us last time..” She moaned as she took a big bite of it. “Oh these are even better, fresh....come on girls, grab one!”

Christine, who’s been very quiet, her eyes lit up and hesitantly reached for one. Her eyes fluttered close as she sighed.

“Good right? I told you.”

“I thought you were exaggerating. Olga. Come on. Try some.” Christine picked up another two, passed one more towards Olga. She hummed as a small smile appeared on her face, nibbling on the biscuit without saying a word.

You let out a small sigh, you were glad they liked the biscuits. You would be lying if you say you weren’t intimidated by three of them. You heard so much story about these amazing women from Kyle leading up to the party, with all the achievements on and off fields, you felt so… ordinary compared to them.

“Um, Coffee? Tea? Simon brewed the tea… so it should be good.” You offered, trying hard to come up with topics to break the ice. You huffled as you moved around the kitchen table trying to serve them the drinks with difficulty with your very pregnant stomach. The ladies all stood up immediately to help.

“Oh thank you.. sorry, it’s getting harder and harder for me to move around as this little pea pod grows..” you puffed out as you sat down on the chair that Olga had pulled out, insisted you to sit down while they help themselves with the refreshments.

“Oh talk about baby… Since Gaz mentioned the two of you were expecting, we all brought some gifts for you and the baby. ” Mylène clapped her hand, and waved to the other ladies to bring in the gifts from the living room.

Your eyes widen at the amount of gifts the ladies started to pile onto the table.

“That… this…” you gaped.

“All for your new family. Come on, open it up!” Mylène urged as she pointed towards the bags and boxes.

You reach for the four different colour bags first, all filled to the brim with different assortments clothes.

“ Each of the bags are clothe from age zero to two years old.” Mylène explained.

“Till two years old?!” you gasped as you took a peek into each of them. “That’s… that’s too much!”

“Nonsense. I know how fast the baby grows and the amount of clothes and stuff they go through. If you need any more things, don’t hesitate to contact me. Gaz got my number.” She reaches forward to give you a hug, reassuring you.

“And if you need anyone to babysit or a bodyguard for the baby, I can lend you my brother. Emiel will make sure no harm come to your baby if he were to look after them with his scary look.” She offered her brother’s service proudly.

“Uh, thank you??” You thanked her for her offer, trying to imagine the tall assassin with a baby carrier as you reached for the next lot of presents.

You open the second parcel, presents from Olga and Nikolai, and a very intricate Matryoshka doll and……helicopter and aeroplane plushie?

“Nik insisted on getting those.”Olga sighed. “ Saying something about.. The baby should know how her Dad and her Russian uncle’s friendship was strengthened.”

“It’s very important for them to know the story!!” Nikolai shouted from the other side of the room. Olga just rolled her eyes. You chuckled as you put it aside. “Thank you for your beautiful gifts. I was actually thinking what to put on the shelves in the nursery, these will be very fitting. Thank you. Oh! There's another little box..”as soon as you open the wooden box, a little ballerina pops up with a lullaby playing.

It’s a custom made musical box, you realised.

“Nikolai had it specially made for your little one. He originally wanted some rendition of heavy metal band music, I had to intervene and choose something more appropriate.” Olga covered her face with all the wild ideas her husband coming up with, embarrassed.

“Thank heaven you did. I think the lullaby might settle the baby down more than.. “ you laughed as you closed the lid again and leaned forward to give Olga a hug.

Finally you turned towards the blonde lady. Christine hands you two big square parcels, and wrangles her hand as you open up the wrapping paper.

You pulled out a few knitted baby clothes, hand knitted, simple but made with care. And a few warm knitted blankets too.

“You made these?” You inspect each of the clothes and design, noticing each of the onsies pairs with a blanket. A SET!. “Oh these teddy bear patterns on the blanket and the onsies.. ah! The sunflower pattern on these ones… and Stars… so cute!” You cooed.

Christine nodded her head hesitantly, “Soap mention you were going to spend the first few months after birth with the baby in Scotland, Considering how long the winter goes on for up here,I thought might be a good idea … “ she trailed off. Your smile widened and pulled her in for a hug, “ it’s a very thoughtful gift… Thank you. And to all of you as well.” You turned towards the other two, thanking them again.

“Soap couldn’t shut up about how much he is looking forward to his future niece and how much he is going to spoil her, while that husband of yours, every spare moment he’s got, he’s writing down plans for the nursery, ideas for future outings, and way of organising routines to give YOU the optimal resting time.” Mylène chuckled.

“Simon has been giving out ideas of how the team can help with babysitting duties to give you two new parents a bit of breather.” Christine added. “I don’t think he likes to admit it, but he really cares about you as a little sister.” She smiled.

“ You should see Nik.. he is already pressing me to design some sort of self defence lessons for the baby. “Olga shakes her head, exasperated at her husband’s antics.

“Three of us agree, we felt like we know you already, from all the stories we hear from the boys, the love they have for you, how well you treat them, you deserve all the kindness in the world.” Petra said.

You blinked your eyes few times, trying not to tear up from the touching words and gestures. You were still in awe how generous the ladies are with all their gifts, and you never met them before. “I just want you all to know… all of you are always welcome here, anytime. The men are always like an extended family to us, and in term, all of you are welcome to the family too. “

And after this, it became a tradition for everyone to gather at the MacTavish farm at least once a year.

#call of duty #call of duty oc #Call of duty fanfics #self indulgent

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grantmentis · 1 year ago

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are there good journalists on the woho beat you'd recommend?

Sadly a big problem we have is that a lot of very good reporters end up not being able to stay in womens hockey for a long time because a lot of outlets haven’t had a dedicated space for it, and so much is changing, but here is who I think is the best that are consistently on in no order

Here are my recommendations!

Erica Ayala and her outlet Black Rosie Media I think is THE standard in women’s hockey. Ayala had done bylines for women’s hockey in various outlets and also appeared on a few different locked on networks which can be found in muckrack here

The Ice Garden is the longest running women’s hockey blog. It’s a rotating cast and I like some authors way more than others but I think if you’re just looking for start and probably has the most extensive coverage. It’s one of the only sources to get English language coverage of international league play and a lot of times players or former players will guess write. I am also a fan of the analytical work that An Nguyen has done, for example this article. Some stuff is paywalled, some isn’t, some is paywalled then becomes available later.

Kyle Cushman has recently been on the PWHL beat specifically, including some more long form / deeper look articles as well as being at practices with information, and I’ve enjoyed his work. He mainly writes for The Score

Christine Roger of Radio Canada is probably the main French Canadian reporter for the PWHL and team Canada

Hailey Salvian of The Athletic is usually pretty credible, tho it’s very clear that she is very careful not to be critical of her inside sources in the PWHL and I think had sometimes been a little bit of a PR arm she’s not going to say something straight up false or anything and is pretty in line with hockey reporters on that stuff. That said the athletic is usually paywalled and I really do not like the athletic as a paper overall just from a “owned by the New York times who is constantly spreading transphobic misinfo.” But if you just follow her socials and stuff you’ll get the breaking news and she’s usually accurate there.

Not a journalist but if you’re just looking for an aggregate of roster transactions and rumors pwhlreport on most platforms will do that for you, I’d say they’re accurate a solid 85% of the time and it’s little opinions or anything just who what when where and why

More statistical analysis than news but I enjoy Giants in the Crease for all things goaltenders and appreciate that they do a good job with the ncaa and international goalies as well

Women’s sports highlights on twitter will get you literally every single women’s hockey highlight from every tournament ever I swear it rules. Unfortunately am unsure if they’re on other platforms

I don’t think he’ll be writing anytime soon because of his new job, but if you want to get into the data world, the PWHL Montreal director of analytics Mikael Nahabedian has a substack page

EDIT: Karissa Donkin of CBC is a recent addition to the best I’ve enjoyed!

These are just some I like that I think do a good job of keeping it straight. Unfortunately I am limited by my own language barrier and haven’t found really anyone consistently covering the SDHL or other leagues in the English language that I’ve enjoyed, but if any of my followed from other countries have their own writers who I may be missing because of this language barrier please share

#asks

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paperchaos · 4 years ago

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Characterization in Lady Bird

Focusing on Christine, “Lady Bird,” and Kyle, one can see the dichotomy of personality they were trying to show. Kyle acts a foil for Lady Bird. He is out of touch and consumed in his own world entirely. Although Lady Bird is also in her world, his is more detrimental. Kyle is used as a way to show how clouded the upper class of Sacramento is. Upper middle class towns have a way of cultivating a bubble-like community, shunning those who cannot keep up with the established “correct” way of life. Sitting at the pool, he says, “I don’t believe in the economy.” This line should be off putting for Lady Bird for many reasons. She is not apart of the bubble that Kyle lives in. She does see herself as an outsider, putting on new masks to create the perfect wealthy girl all of her “friends” seem to embody. This line, this moment, is the crack in the ice. She is walking on a frozen lake towards the people she thinks will make her happy, yet she ignores the gunshot-like sounds of the ground failing beneath her. The red flags are there but hidden behind nonchalant conversation and clove cigarettes..

#ladybird

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thebridgehqs · 4 years ago

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With the event now underway, people are welcome to start plotting and posting threads for the Blue Mountains. While not every muse has to go up there, most are - whether for the skiing or the party held by Arendelle Jewellers.

You do not have to stop previous threads but you’re welcome to pause them.

We’ll announce when the event will close once we’ve decided on a set time.

Under the cut, you’ll find blind date pairings and prompts. If you are struggling to plot with your assigned partners for whatever reason, come talk to an admin and we’ll see what we can do to help.

Damon Baird & Elizabeth Lavenza: Hot drinks by the fire

James Sirius Potter & Elsa: Snow-ball fight

Oberyn Martell & Edith Cushing: Skiing accident

Madge Undersee & Ygritte: "Stop showing off!"

Edward Nygma & Joanna Lannister: Car broken down

Nathan Summers & Vex'halia de Rolo: "Did you see that?"

Lillian Shepard & Allie Pressman: Snowboarding

Johnny Cage & Charles Smith: The last cake/pie/chocolate just got bought

Kitana & Glimmer: "Do you want to build a snowman?"

Poe Dameron & Jason Todd: "I don't think that local likes me much."

Raven Darkholme & Alec Lightwood: Road closures

Selina Kyle & Jane Hopper: Lost gloves/scarf/beanie

Sunny Baudelaire & Alex Rider: Skiing lesson

Beverly Marsh & Genevieve Dala: "Please dance with me." - party related

Suki & Harley Quinn: "This guy bothering you?" - party related

Breha Organa & Natasha Romanoff: Jacket mix up - party related

Koriand'r & Spencer Reid: Snow angels

Naivara Galanodel & Diana Barry: "Can you give me a lift?"

Carol Danvers & Maid Marian: "I hate this song." - party related

Cole Turner & Lila Barton: Slippery ice patch

Faith Lehane & Ted Tonks: Reaching for a drink at the same time - party related

Yara Greyjoy & Christine Daae: Power outage

Lucy Gray Baird & Olenna Tyrell: Carriage ride

Peter Parker & Peter Pan: "So tempting to just take it." - party related

Rhaenys Targaryen & Lucy Pevensie: "Do you think it's safe to walk out on that ice?"

Sirius Black & Helga Hufflepuff: Sledding

May Parker & Nell Crain: Spilled drink - party related

Tiuri & Cassandra Pressman: "I've never seen snow before."

Lucifer Morningstar & Landon Kirby: Spiked drink - party related

#thebridge: event #thebridge: snow season #thebridge: announcement

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prideguynews · 6 years ago

Link

Now is Nationwide Coming Out Working day, a working day for gay, lesbian, bisexual, queer and transgender men and women to rejoice who they are, and athletics are a large component of this party.

In the earlier calendar year, dozens of athletes and coaches came out as LGBTQ, along with men and women from other areas of activity this sort of as trainers, media or front business office staff members. They are from 31 athletics, from ice dancing to ice hockey and soccer (American) to soccer (around the globe).

Beneath are some of the athletes and coaches who came out in athletics due to the fact the previous Nationwide Coming Out Working day. Some of them have been out for the first time even though other people have been out in some potential but their sexual orientation just grew to become broadly recognized in the earlier calendar year. Click on their identify to read through far more about them.

Vehicle Racing Hurley Haywood

Baseball Michael Holland

Basketball Uri Kokia

Bobsled Sophie Vercruyssen

Sophie Vercruyssen, ideal, with teammate An Vannieuwenhuyse at the 2018 Winter Olympics.

Image by Alexander Hassenstein/Getty Photographs

Bodybuilding Ajay Holbrook

Canoe Sandra Forgues

Diving Nathaniel Hernandez Lisa Coe Robert Páez Scotia Mullin Clark Carter Simon Carne Aidan Faminoff Manny Pollard

Field hockey Cheradyn Pettit

Figure skating Jorik Hendrickx

Indiana Point out soccer player Jake Bain

Football Jake Bain Jacob Van Ittersum Bradley Kim Landon Foster Donovan Hillary

Golf Tadd Fujikawa Maya Reddy Payton Bradley

Gravity racing Zack Chief

Gymnastics Joey Bonanno Eric Holley

Ice dancing Karina Manta

U.S. hockey player Meghan Duggan

Image by Ker Robertson/Getty Photographs,

Ice hockey Meghan Duggan Gillian Apps Jay Forster Anya Battaglino Jessica Platt

Lacrosse Ryan Socolow

Pro wrestling Mike Parrow Nir Rotenberg

Functioning Johnny Kemps Chad Callais Adam Dalton Tim Landry Matt Kravitz Harrison Knowlton Tucker Meijer Kelsey Tyler

Skeleton Kim Meylemans

Snowboarding Liam Moya

Snowboarding Sarka Pancochova

Minnesota United midfielder Collin Martin

Jerome Miron-Usa Now Sports

Soccer Collin Martin Bianca Henninger Ian Johnson Arman Bashiri Teran Lind Christine Nairn Robbie White Lauryn Hutchinson

Softball JoAnnah Lim Kaitlyn Poe

Speedskating Brittany Bowe

Squash Luis Hernández Todd Harrity

Surfing Xu Jingsen

Swimming Abrahm DeVine Hunter Sigmund Seth Owen Matthew Garza David Thibodeau Mark Foster Steven Stumph John Kim

Tennis Payton Tomasko Nick Lee Joseph Wenger Alison Van Uytvanck Greet Minnen

Antonio Woodard of the College of Iowa

Darren Miller/hawkeyesports.com

Keep track of and field Anthony Peters Will Lynch Michaela Abby Hetherington Kaylin Whitney Sam Layding Nika Ouellette H. David Rials Antonio Woodard Derek Wiebke Kyle Davis

Volleyball Tiffany Abreu Noah Munger

Wrestling Justice Horn

Many others in athletics Amy Werdine (Minnesota Vikings) Justin Stevenson (athletic trainer) Alex Valvo (hockey referee) Ben Pereira (athletics management) Jason Pippi (St. Louis Blues) Richie Anderson (English soccer) Carley Knox (Minnesota Lynx VP) Pascal Erlachner (Soccer referee)

If you want to explain to your coming out tale, fall us an e-mail: [email protected]

The post Meet LGBTQ athletes, coaches from 31 sports on National Coming Out Day appeared first on PrideGuy - Gay News, LGBT News, Politics & Entertainment.

#gay #gay news #lgbt

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popradar · 7 years ago

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Weekend Planner: 20 of the Coolest Things to do in L.A.

Art: Kate Micucci, courtesy of the artist and Gallery1988

Here are 20 awesome events happening in L.A. this weekend...Want the 411 on additional events and happenings in LA? Follow @christineziemba on Twitter or Instagram.

FRIDAY, DEC. 1

KATE MICUCCI (Art)

On Friday night, from 7-9 pm artist and actor Kate Micucci returns to G1988 for another solo show. All her works are on sale, and proceeds from Micucci’s cut are going to charity. Bring an unwrapped gift (valued $10 or more) to the opening on Friday and get a discount on your purchase.

ISABEL ALLENDE (Book talk)

Book Soup presents Chilean-American novelist Isabel Allende (The House of the Spirits, City of the Beasts), off-site at the Skirball Cultural Center on Friday at 7 pm. Allende discusses her new novel In the Midst of Winter, which chronicles the lives of “very different people brought together in a mesmerizing story that journeys from present-day Brooklyn to 1970s Chile and Brazil.” She’ll be in conversation with Los Angeles Times Book Editor Carolyn Kellogg. Each ticket ($28) will include a signed copy of english edition of In the Midst of Winter.

BLITZEN TRAPPER (Music)

The Bootleg Theater presents the Portland, Oregon-based experimental pop band Blitzen Trapper on Friday night. The band’s on the road promoting its latest release, Wild & Reckless. Lilly Hiatt opens. All ages. Tickets: $20. Doors at 8:30 pm.

SLOTHRUST (Music)

Boston trio Slothrust play The Echo on Friday night. The rockers just released an EP of covers, Show Me How You Want It To Be. Covers include “Wonderful World,” “...Baby One More Time” and one of our personal favs, “Sex and Candy.” And the Kids, Slugs open the night. Tickets: $11.50, $15 day of show. Ages 18+. 8:30 pm.

vimeo

MUSEUM OF FAILURE (Art)

The Museum of Failure opens on Saturday at the A+D Architecture and Design Museum. The pop-up museum, which closes on Feb. 4, is a curated collection of “epic fails by some of the world’s best known companies.” What to expect? Items such as Apple Newton, Bic for Her, Betamax and more. The Museum of Failure is open Wednesdays to Sundays. Adult general admission tickets: $15+ fees. Children 12 and younger: Free.

SLEEPLESS: THE MUSIC CENTER AFTER HOURS (Party)

The next installment of Sleepless: The Music Center After Hours series happens from 11pm on Friday to 3 am on Saturday. This special edition of Sleepless—Cuba: Antes, Ahora / Then, Now—is being held as part of Pacific Standard Time: LA/LA. The overnight event allows guests to explore The Music Center’s Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. The event features talented artists and performers from Cuba, film screenings, light installations, and a mercadito of Cuban artwork and merchandise. There are other events throughout the weekend related to Cuba: Antes, Ahora / Then, Now. The demand for the free tickets (+$6 fee) has been high, and unavailable online. Additional tickets may be released so follow the Music Center on Facebook and Twitter for the latest updates.

TORI AMOS (Music)

Tori Amos plays three nights at The Theatre at Ace Hotel, from Friday to Sunday. Her music is as relevant now as it was when were in school. Tickets: $55-$75.

SATURDAY, DEC. 2

POCOCK BREWING COMPANY (Beer fest)

Pocock Brewing in Santa Clarita celebrates its 2nd Anniversary with a beer fest on Saturday from noon to 4 pm. Pocock invites more than 18 other breweries to help celebrate (Absolution Brewing to Wolf Creek). There will also be live bands (The Darryls, The Snare Heads) and food trucks (Swami's Sandwiches, Vern's Grill, Tomski Sausage). All net proceeds benefit the Castaic Education Foundation and the Santa Clarita Valley Education Foundation. General admission: $40, VIP: $55. Designated Driver (non-drinking): $10. VIP entry is at noon and general entry is at 4 pm.

UNION STATION (Holiday festival)

Union Station celebrates the Christmas/holiday season with a festival and pop-up artisan market on Saturday from 11 am to 8 pm. The day features more than 30 vendors including jewelry from The Key Historic, screen-printed T-shirts from The Poster List, a mobile record shop from Dig It Vinyl; organic body products from Original Good Goods and more. The family-friendly event features live music from the California Feetwarmers (ragtime); Sweet Beats, DJ Kiyomi’s modern sounds from a renovated 1957 ice cream truck; and Girls Gone Vinyl, a collective of female DJs. Food trucks and local craft breweries, including Indie Brewing at the Beer Garden, will be on hand, too.

A CURRENT AFFAIR (Shopping)

A Current Affair Vintage Pop-up Marketplace returns to L.A.’s Cooper Design Space Penthouse on Saturday and Sunday from 10 am to 6 pm. The show brings together more than 65 vintage retailers and private dealers to showcase clothing, accessories and jewelry. There’s an open bar, courtesy of local distillery Our Vodka, hydration by Boxed Water, and complimentary draft lattes from La Colombe. General admission begins at 12 pm with tickets at $12. Preview admission on Saturday at 10 am: $20. Weekend pass: $28.

Image: Courtesy of the MAK Center

MAK ANNUAL ARCHITECTURE TOUR (Design)

MAK Annual Architecture Tour takes place on Saturday from 3-7 pm in Inglewood. The tour highlights three single-family homes designed by R.M. Schindler to “promote and redefine modern, affordable living in 1940's Los Angeles.” These homes are open to the public for the first time. Proceeds from the tour benefit the MAK Center for Art & Architecture's work and stewardship of Schindler's architecture. Tickets: $45 general, $40 members, $90 ticket + Friend level membership.

GIANT ROBOT POST-IT SHOW 13 (Art)

The 13th annual Giant Robot Post-it show returns to Giant Robot 2 - GR2 Gallery on Saturday. The show features more than 400 artists and 3,000+ works of art on Post-it notes. All works are $25 each. The show opens to previews at noon and sales start at 3 pm. The exhibition runs through December 10.

THE BECHDEL CAST LIVE PRESENTS DIE HARD (Live podcast)

The Bechdel Cast, a podcast hosted by Caitlin Durante and Jamie Loftus, examines the portrayal of women in film, one movie at a time. On Saturday, at Nerdist Showroom at 7 pm, Durante, Loftus and special guest Debra DiGiovanni stage a live show to celebrate The Bechdel Cast’s One Year Anniversary, and they’re tackling Die Hard.

THE CHRONICLES OF LA (Shopping)

The Chronicles of LA is a mysterious, experiential pop-up store and art exhibit that takes place in a secret vintage hotel on Friday and Saturday. With the theme of sex, the two-day pop-up features more than 60 artists, designers, performers and musicians from around sharing ideas and viewpoints about sex, through their works and goods. We don’t know much more than that, so to get the location and more details, RSVP.

Images: Courtesy of Night Gallery and Marisa Takal

BEYOND OY TOO SCARED TO HA-HA (Art)

Night Gallery presents Beyond Oy Too Scared to Ha-Ha, a solo art exhibition of new work by LA-based artist Marisa Takal. From the gallery: “Takal creates abstract expressionist landscapes of places, times, interiors, intestines, disillusions, and emotions. She began work on the pieces of this exhibition during the inauguration earlier this year, and many of the pieces began from a place of anxiety.” The opening reception takes place on Saturday from 7-10 pm. The exhibition runs through Jan. 13.

HOLIDAY AFLOAT (Boat parade)

The 55th Annual Los Angeles Harbor Holiday Afloat Parade takes place on Saturday at the Port of Los Angeles. With the theme of "Peace Around the World," approximately 60 boats will be parading along the LA waterfront, decked out for the holiday season. The parade starts in the East Basin near Banning’s Landing Community Center in Wilmington, and it takes about 90 minutes for the boats to travel the entire route. There are spectator viewing spots in several locations in San Pedro and Wilmington.

SUNDAY, DEC. 3

Image: Courtesy of Voyager Institute

WTF VOYAGER CHRISTMAS (Film)

The Voyager Institute collaborates with crew from the former Non Plus Ultra venue for upcoming movie nights at 2044 Rosslyn St. On Sunday, they present A WTF Voyager Xmas. The first half of the afternoon presents a “condensed” version of Jack Frost (1998). The film stars Michael Keaton as a rocker reincarnated into a sentient snowman. The effects are awesome, and it’s a film that needs to be taken in with an audience. The second half of the program features film critic Alonso Duralde (The Wrap) and a Q&A about the Christmas movie genre. Doors 6 pm, show 7 pm. The event is free with RSVP, but donations accepted.

HEAVY HEAVY LOW LOW COMEDY SHOW (Comedy)

Heavy Heavy Low Low Comedy Show takes place in the back bar ot Bar Lubitsch on Sunday at 9:30 pm. The show is free and features the comedic talents of guest host Erin Alexis with Amy Miller, Papp Johnson, Kelly McInerney, Rose Toberman Alsander, Chase Austin and Jules Posner. Ages 21+.

EMO NITE DAY (Music)

Emo Nite Day is a festival of emo acts that takes place on Sunday from 2-11 pm at the Shrine Expo Hall & Grounds. The lineup on multiple stages features The Used, Machine Gun Kelly, Tigers Jaw, Craig Owens (Chiodos), Finch, Aaron Gillespie (Underoath + The Almost), Frank Zummo (Sum 41), Mom Jeans and more. DJ sets from Preston, From First To Last and others. The all-ages event also features art installations, food trucks and other treats. Tickets: $59.50.

FRIENDSHIP BUDDIES (Comedy)

Friendship Buddies is a weekly stand-up comedy show that takes place on the patio of the Verdugo Bar in Glassell Park. Hosted by Luke Giordano, the lineup features: Amy Miller, Ryan Conner, Debra DiGiovanni, Biniam Bizuneh, Grant Lyon, Kyle Shire and Aaron Hertzog. 8 pm. Free.

—by Christine N. Ziemba

#weekendplanner #events #losangeles #thingstodo #film #comedy #music

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ramajmedia · 5 years ago

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5 Best (& 5 Worst) Episodes Of Dexter (According To IMDb)

Showtime has produced a lot of shows over the years on their premium network, but Dexter was one of their most popular. Several shows delve into the concept of serial killers, but Dexter was unique, as Michael C. Hall’s character only killed people who "deserved" to die.

Related: Dexter: 10 Storylines That Were Never Resolved

The show won two Golden Globes during its run on Showtime, but the final season saw a big dip in quality compared to the rest of the series. The show still has a high average score of 8.7 on IMDb, but some of the episodes have a much lower score than what you might expect. Here are IMDb's picks for the greatest Dexter episodes of all, alongside their picks for the worst! Watch out for major spoilers if you aren't up to speed with the series.

10 Best: "Hungry Man" - 9.4

DEXTER, (from left): Vanessa Marano, John Lithgow, Brando Eaton, Michael C. Hall, 'Hungry Man', (Season 4, ep. 409, aired Nov. 22, 2009), 2006-. photo: Randy Tepper / © Showtime / Courtesy Everett Collection

The ninth episode of Season 4 is one of the best-rated episodes of Dexter, coming in at a 9.4 out of 10. This episode sees a lot of character development on Arthur Mitchell (the Trinity Killer)'s part, as Dexter goes to have Thanksgiving dinner with his family. Dexter quickly realizes that Arthur is manipulative to his family and even beats them to keep them in line.

The awkward relationship between Rita and her neighbor Elliot also grows as he kisses Rita, and things get even more complicated for Quinn and his relationship with Christine Hill. By the end of the episode, it is revealed that Christine is actually the daughter of the Trinity Killer.

9 Worst: "Dress Code" - 7.6

Yvonne Strahovski as Hannah McKay and Michael C. Hall as Dexter Morgan in Dexter (Season 8, episode 7) - Photo: Randy Tepper/Showtime - Photo ID: Dexter_807_1783

Among the worst episodes of the series is the seventh episode of Season 8. The episode, titled “Dress Code,” mostly revolves around Hannah’s new life, while also continuing to show Debra’s struggle with Jacob Elway. When Dexter re-discovers Hannah, she is living a new life under the name Maggie and is planning on marrying a rich man named Miles.

Hannah was only in the relationship for his money, and eventually decides to kill Miles after he gets progressively more controlling and threatens to kill her. Dexter helps her dump the body, but soon after, he finds out that Cassie has been killed at his apartment complex.

8 Best: "Hello, Dexter Morgan" - 9.5

Season 4 of Dexter was well-received, partly because of John Lithgow’s portrayal of a serial killer. In “Hello, Dexter Morgan,” things start to get intense between Arthur and Dexter, as the latter realizes that the Trinity Killer is hunting down people named Kyle Butler. Dexter tries to frame another man for the Trinity Killer’s murders so that he can kill Arthur himself, but that becomes harder than he expected since Arthur is hunting him.

Related: Dexter: The Show Vs The Book

The police also have his daughter Christine in custody, who ends up committing suicide after she realizes that Arthur wants nothing to do with her. The episode ends with Arthur walking into Miami Metro and finding Dexter in his office before saying, “hello, Dexter Morgan.”

7 Worst: "Make Your Own Kind Of Music" - 7.4

“Make Your Own Kind of Music” continues Hannah’s storyline, with Dexter trying to keep her away from the police. Dexter even goes as far as asking Debra if Hannah can stay with her for a few days, which Deb begrudgingly agrees to. Deb is also offered her job back at Miami PD, which she is hesitant to take back.

A man named Oliver Saxon is revealed to be Evelyn Vogel’s son Daniel, who they believe killed Cassie. Dexter goes on a hunt for Daniel, but Daniel slashes his tire and escapes.

6 Best: "Are You…?" - 9.5

In the Season 6 finale, Debra witnesses Dexter killing Travis Marshall (The Doomsday Killer). The Season 7 opener “Are You...?” picks up this storyline, with Dexter having to explain why he killed Travis. He convinces his sister to help him burn down the church and pose the scene as a suicide.

As the episode progresses, Deb gets the suspicion that Travis wasn’t the first person Dexter has killed and she begins to re-examine the Ice Truck Killer case. Viktor Baskov kills detective Mike Anderson this episode, but Dexter kills him with a fire extinguisher soon after. By the end of the episode, Deb asks her brother if he is a serial killer and Dexter finally tells her the truth.

5 Worst: "Monkey In A Box" - 7.2

Things quickly started to go downhill as the final season of Dexter started to come to a close. The penultimate episode, titled “Monkey in a Box,” shows Dexter deciding whether he should kill Oliver Saxon or just leave the United States. Saxon and Dexter make a truce to forget each other, but Dexter still plans to kill him.

Related: Dexter: All 8 Seasons, Ranked

Saxon returns to Dexter’s apartment and Dexter injects him with M99. When Dexter is about to kill Saxon, he realizes that he doesn’t feel the need to kill any longer and wants to just go live his life with Hannah and Harrison. Deb then arrests Saxon, but once he is taken to the hospital, he escapes and shoots Deb on his way out.

4 Best: "Born Free" - 9.6

One of the best episodes of Dexter is the Season 1 finale. In this episode, the police find out that Rudy is the Ice Truck Killer and that he has kidnapped Deb. Dexter visits the shipping yard where Harry had found him and has a flashback to his mother being killed.

Dexter thinks that Rudy might be at his mother’s house, but when Dexter arrives, he realizes that Rudy is actually his brother Brian. Brian wants Dexter to kill Debra so that they can join forces together, but Dexter refuses and kills his biological brother instead.

3 Worst: "Goodbye Miami" - 6.9

The tenth episode of Season 8 is appropriately titled “Goodbye Miami,” as Dexter plans to move to Argentina with Hannah and Harrison. Things get complicated for Dexter as he continues to track down Saxon, and for Quinn as he and Jamie break up.

Quinn and Debra finally confess their feelings for each other in this episode, after Quinn tells her that their kiss was part of the reason why he broke it off with Jamie. Near the end of the episode, Dexter goes to Vogel’s house and sees Saxon inside the house with a knife to Vogel’s throat. She dies while Dexter cradles her in his arms.

2 Best: "The Getaway" - 9.8

The best-rated episode of Dexter is the Season 4 finale titled “The Getaway,” which comes in at a near-perfect score of 9.8. Dexter is finally able to incapacitate Trinity this episode, but Dexter is arrested soon after for hitting a mirror off of a person’s car. When Dexter is released from prison and goes back to Trinity, Trinity is gone and tries to return home to collect his valuables to leave Miami.

Debra also finds out in this episode that Dexter was related to the Ice Truck Killer, which worries Dexter, since she is getting closer to the truth about him being a serial killer. Dexter realizes things in his life have to change after he kills Trinity, because he doesn't want to be a monster like Mitchell. The episode ends with Dexter returning home to find Rita dead in a bathtub and Harrison sitting in a pool of her blood.

1 Worst: "Remember The Monsters?" - 4.6

The worst-rated episode of Dexter is the Season 8 finale titled “Remember The Monsters?” It comes in at a measly 4.6 out of 10. After Dexter finds out about his sister’s wound, he goes back to Miami Central Hospital to see her. Oliver Saxon finds out the Deb didn’t actually die from his gunshot and returns to finish the job. Angel Batista intercepts Saxon and arrests him, but Dexter doesn’t let him off that easy and stabs him in the carotid artery.

Dexter then turns off Deb’s life support as he knows she isn’t going to survive, taking her onto The Slice of Life to dispose of her body. Dexter then drives into the hurricane and is reported to be dead. At the end of the episode, Dexter is shown to be alive and living in a cabin as a lumberjack, which, needless to say, isn’t the ending people were expecting or hoping for.

NEXT: 10 Worst Episodes Of Great TV Series

source https://screenrant.com/dexter-greatest-worst-episodes-ever-rated-imdb/

#screenrant

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caveartfair · 6 years ago

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Amid Controversy, the Whitney Biennial Plays It Safe

John Edmonds, The Villain, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; Company, New York; and the Whitney Biennial.

Lambrequin and Peplum, , 2017. Diane Simpson Whitney Museum of American Art

Maybe it’s not fair to expect an exhibition as popular and overly scrutinized as the Whitney Biennial to take huge risks—especially not after the last edition dissolved into a still-simmering debate over race and identity politics. And yet, there’s something undeniably flat about the 2019 show, co-curated by Jane Panetta and Rujeko Hockley and opening to the public on May 17th.

There isn’t much here to quicken the pulse, with even the politically inflected works coming across as too polite for our current moment. And if one possible function of the biennial is to act as a kind of cross-section of American artistic practice, this exhibition makes some puzzling choices. An alien visitor to the biennial would be forgiven for thinking that most current painting is of the mildly inept, figurative variety, and that found-object assemblage is the way most humans choose to creatively communicate with each other.

The General,, 2018. Nicole Eisenman Whitney Museum of American Art

But let’s start on a positive note: all the way up on the Whitney’s 6th-floor outdoor patio, lashed by wind and cold rain during Monday’s press preview. Here you’ll find one of the Whitney Biennial’s only true showstoppers, an epic sculpture by Nicole Eisenman called Procession (2019). A parade of migratory humanoids is caught mid-journey, possibly in the process of transporting a series of modernist-looking metal sculptures on plinths.

Every element of this sprawling piece is a delight, from the lovingly sculpted cartoonish genitals to the puffs of steam randomly emitted from unexpected orifices. Procession recalls a heroic journey from millennia past, but idiosyncratic Easter eggs abound: a Kryptonite bike lock here, a pair of New York Giants socks there. The funny, complicated sculpture is comfortable juggling sophomoric fart humor with reflections on power, bondage, servitude, and the pomposity of religion—and art, for that matter. A bumper sticker on the back of the cart reads “How’s My Sculpting? Call 1-800-EAT-SHIT.” Procession’s very placement is a stroke of genius: just outside of the museum proper, as if the procession wasn’t quite able to make it to the halls of culture.

Inside, it’s warmer and drier, but also a little predictable. The ghost of Robert Rauschenberg hangs heavy over work by Eric Mack, Troy Michie, and Tomashi Jackson: photo transfers, quilt-like collages of material, and evocative detritus (other artist’s press releases, political buttons, deconstructed bits of clothing).

Installation view of Nicole Eisenman, Procession, 2019.

Across the board, there’s too much found-object assemblage. Wangechi Mutu’s Poems by my great grandmother I (2017)—a construction of wood and cow horn and a dangling pencil that rotates, drawing a circle on its metal base—could be a small-scale homage to Bruce Nauman’s Carousel (Stainless steel version)(1988). Robert Bittenbender’s unwieldy wall sculptures, cages stuffed to bursting with metal cords and junk, seem like hyperbolic parodies of the magpie aesthetic. There are interesting things about some of these works—including large-scale sculptures by Joe Minter—but the sheer volume of them gives the impression that contemporary artists are basically collectors and curators of things they have bought or found.

One big exception here are inventive sculptures by Puerto Rican artist Daniel Lind-Ramos, who makes magic with palm tree trunks, beads, coconuts, soil, and other poetic objects. As with the best of Nari Ward, a sense of symmetry and gravity give these sculptures a sense of ritual importance, despite their secular materials.

Eric N. Mack, (Easter) The Spring / The Holy Ground, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; Morán Morán, Los Angeles; Simon Lee, London; and the Whitney Biennial.

Sentinel I, 2018. Wangechi Mutu Whitney Museum of American Art

Painting fares the worst of all in the Biennial, which seems to be asserting that the medium isn’t dead, just uninteresting. Kyle Thurman’s figurative depictions of men are a weak stab in the direction of Leon Golub; Eddie Arroyo’s paintings of shabby building facades in the Little Haiti neighborhood of Miami may be conceptually interesting, but they’re imminently forgettable as images. Calvin Marcus’s massive canvases are betting on the fact that size is what matters, even when the subject matter—an Ed Ruscha-esque view through a car windshield; a circle of donkeys; an upside down snowman—seems arbitrary at best.

There are a few bright spots to be found, including Janiva Ellis, a stand-out of the last New Museum Triennial. And Keegan Monaghan’s thickly painted renderings of boring things—a rotary telephone, a bit of wood fencing—have the funky, borderline kitschy feel of Red Grooms. Three works by Marlon Mullen are charming and unexpected—all based on the covers of popular trade magazines like Art in America, abstracted into color, pattern, and the text of marquee names, from Grant Wood to Elizabeth Murray.

5825 NE 2nd Ave., Miami, FL 33137, 2017. Eddie Arroyo Whitney Museum of American Art

An emphasis on photography at the Biennial enlivens things a bit, including a small room’s worth of work by Paul Mpagi Sepuya and his peers and collaborators—who are often credited with authoring certain images, eliciting a confusion that’s ultimately about how porous and fluid creative communities can be. The on-the-rise John Edmonds gets two side hallways for his sensual, elegant portraits of black men and women posing with African masks and sculptures. Curran Hatleberg, who has the third-floor gallery space essentially to himself, was a welcome discovery for this critic; his evocative, empathetic portraits and landscapes fall somewhere between Alec Soth and Gregory Crewdson.

Other highlights include Meriem Bennani’s series of videos, housed here in a series of offbeat pavilions outdoors on the fifth floor balcony. Like much of her work, the new installation begins with a documentary subject—Moroccan teenagers, caught laughing, hanging out, and complaining about how Instagram won’t verify their accounts—but also detours into comedic special-effects absurdity. We see local architecture in Morocco’s capital city swaying and crooning R&B lyrics like “I’m a sexy house in Rabat.”

In the ground floor lobby gallery, the always incredible Chicago-based artist Diane Simpson has a series of sculptures that could be storefront displays or altars. Their forms, made with painted fiberboard, lurk on the edge of familiarity—is that a coffee grinder, a length of armor, a trio of folding chairs?—but never fully resemble any one thing. Olga Balema’s sculptures, meanwhile, have a somewhat similar approach to DIY abstraction, albeit messier; who knew one could cover so much ground with little more than carved styrofoam and tape? And Brian Belott’s installation of freezer units holding ephemeral frozen sculptures show a similar knack for funky, handmade invention, even if not every visitor was impressed. “Marc Quinn,” a jaded woman next to me said, referring to the British artist famous for making a bust of his head with his own frozen blood. “That’s the problem with ice—it’s been done!”

Incoming, 2016-2017. Keegan Monaghan Whitney Museum of American Art

If there’s one area where the 2019 Whitney Biennial really stumbles, it’s with the outwardly political. Surely, part of the curatorial conversation must have involved the elephant in the room: Either engage with the oppressive shadow of Trumpism, or treat the show as a respite from the news cycle. This exhibition merely makes half-hearted gestures toward the topical. There’s a goofy series of wall-mounted photo sculptures by Josh Kline, which depict scenes, including the reception desk of Twitter, being slowly covered by rising water. Marcus Fischer presents a reel-to-reel machine playing the recorded thoughts of fellow artists prior to the 2017 inauguration, probing their “fears and reservations about the Trump presidency.” The results are a beat poem (“civil rights…discrimination…polar bears…fracking”) that’s only revelatory if you’ve been sleeping for the past few years.

Alexandra Bell’s biennial contribution is more substantive—annotated articles from the New York Daily News covering the overblown and racist rhetoric surrounding the wrongly accused “Central Park Five.” One piece includes a full-page newspaper ad, written and paid for by one Donald Trump, which calls for a return to the death penalty and no-holds-barred policing. Bell uses a yellow highlighter to isolate especially egregious language, and replaces all the photographs with black boxes. It’s an interesting exercise, but not as compelling as Bell’s better known series, which reworked pages of the New York Times to address racial bias surrounding the killing of Michael Brown. Meanwhile, Kota Ezawa’s film National Anthem (2018)—which animates the artist’s watercolors of NFL players taking a knee—is a political artwork that absolutely no one visiting the Whitney would be likely to be troubled by. It’s as well-meaning as it is toothless.

More successful are a set of drawings by Christine Sun Kim, which remind us that the personal is always political. The artist, who is deaf, weighs in on various sources of her “deaf rage,” experienced in various settings (“while traveling,” or “in the art world”). The quasi-scientific diagrams pinpoint all the many ways in which a differently abled artist can be pushed to the brink. Kim isolates two instances of what she categorizes as merely “cute rage”: “Being offered a wheelchair at the arrival gate…and the braille menu at restaurants.”

Christine Sun Kim, Degrees of My Deaf Rage in The Art World, 2018. Courtesy of the artist; White Space, Beijing; and the Whitney Biennial.

But there is a single instance of hypertopical critique that hits its target, and hard. The most thrilling and dangerous work in the otherwise tame Biennial comes courtesy of Forensic Architecture. The hard-to-define, multidisciplinary collective chose to call out Whitney board vice chairman and Safariland CEO Warren Kanders for the sources of his wealth—namely tear-gas canisters used against migrants at our southern border, and bullets fired by the Israeli military.

While it’s not mentioned directly in the video, Kanders’s presence on the board has caused a swell of protest in the lead-up to the Whitney Biennial, mainly spearheaded by the collective Decolonize This Place. Fellow biennial artist Michael Rakowitz actually pulled out of the show in solidarity with this movement, but Forensic Architecture has done something more effective: remain, and bite the tear gas-grenade-wielding hand that feeds them. Their film manages a nice balance between the didactic and the poppy, concisely explaining a broader initiative to use machine-learning and artificial intelligence to identify online images of a specific teargas product made by Kanders’s company.

“While my company and the museum have distinct missions,” Kanders was quoted saying in a letter to Whitney staffers, “both are important contributors to our society.” Watch a few minutes of Forensic Architecture’s effective, rapidfire footage and you’ll likely disagree. Kudos to the curators for putting the film, Triple Chaser (2019), in the center of the sixth floor galleries, rather than relegating it to a less prominent corner of the museum. But what does it say about this Whitney Biennial that its most relevant moment is one that seems to call the whole enterprise into question?

from Artsy News

#Artsy News

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gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot · 1 year ago

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Paulatim sed Firmiter (Slowly but Surely) - Sunday evening

Only one scene to go and (multi) chapter 11 is wrapped

Unless I get murdered for this one lol

Warnings: None, just domestic fluff

Taglist: @glitterypirateduck @letsreadallday @jamesrifftapes @rileyslibrarian

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Sunday evening

Captain Price and Dr. Green’s house

John’s proud beaming face was proof enough to his wife that she had been right about persuading him to invite the ‘kids’ to dinner. Also, the bigger dinner table had been a success, allowing them all to be comfortably seated, and the numerous dishes to be displayed on it.

Heather had roasted a couple of big chickens, made vegetable sides, mashed potatoes, gravy, Yorkshire puddings… and had thought it wouldn’t be enough, given the unholy appetite of the four men present. Johnny had an endless pit in the place where his stomach should be, Kyle was no better, her husband was another bottomless hole when it came to food, and even Simon, given the opportunity, ate like there was no tomorrow.

Thankfully, Kyle brought apple crumble and ice-cream for the dessert, Gabi brought tasty, delicious rice with beans as per her home country recipe, and Christine not only brought a Spanish charcuterie board, but also made a lasagna. Johnny and Simon appeared with several wine bottles, which were as welcomed as the food brought by the others.

And given the rate at which they were eating, there would be no leftovers.

‘‘I can’t believe you’d date a helicopter pilot after almost falling out of one’’ Johnny laughed at Kyle, who didn’t look offended in the slightest as he kept stuffing his mouth full of food with a wide smile.

‘‘Diego is not Nikolai. He doesn’t fly like a madman at least’’

‘‘Who’s Nikolai?’’ Christine and Gabi asked almost at the same time, with genuine curiosity, and John started an intrincate explanation about who the Russian fixer was, that they went way back and even Heather knew him, and told a flowery tale about the time when Gaz almost fell off the helicopter during Kate Laswell’s rescue…

‘‘Wait, wait, wait’’ Christine interrupted, her blue eyes wide and a surprised look on her face. ‘‘What do you mean, ‘rescue’? When did that happen?’’

‘‘November last year’’ Kyle clarified, stealing the last Yorkshire pudding from Johnny’s plate before he noticed.

‘‘Ye bloody asshole…!’’ Johnny complained, trying to steal it back, but Kyle had already taken a bit out of it. ‘‘Ah’ll get back at ye for that!’’

‘‘Johnny, language!’’ Gabi laughed, slapping lightly his arm.

The food by then was mostly gone. After hosting the boys several times, Heather had learned soon that instead of serving entrées, mains and dessert, it was better to just place everything on the table and sit back to enjoy the spectacle. Some were still stuffing themselves with the remains of the chickens, while others were already enjoying the dessert.

Everyone looked full and content, which made her heart happy, and she smiled at her husband. John smiled back at her, and his hand found hers under the table, brushing his calloused thumb on her palm.

‘‘You look happy, sweetheart’’

‘‘I am’’ Heather whispered back, still smiling. ‘‘I like having them here. Can we do this more often?’’

‘‘Not weekly’’ John rushed to say, and she laughed.

‘‘No, no… but a couple times a month at least’’

John grunted non-committally, squeezing her hand before releasing it when he saw Christine standing up.

‘‘If you excuse me just for a minute, I have to make a call’’

‘‘But what about the rest of your ice-cream!’’ Johnny followed her with his eyes, but she ignored him, already scrolling in her mobile phone while she stepped outside, followed by Simon’s gaze.

‘‘Well, thank God’’ John sighed, side-eyeing Kyle and Johnny when they stole Christine’s remaining ice-cream. ‘‘I hope that means Kate will stop asking me to make her take her calls’’

‘‘She’s stubborn’’ Heather smiled, patting her husband’s knee, and he looked at her, amused.

‘‘Which one of them?’’

Heather laughed, and turned her head to look at Simon, who was just listening to the banter around him, as always. He had finished eating a while ago, but had not pulled down his balaclava yet. Wether that was because he forgot, or because he was comfortable in the current company, Heather didn’t know, but she relished in the opportunity to see as little as she could of her friend, scars that made her heart ache and all.

He noticed she was looking at him and his eyes turned to her, in a silent question, and Heather just shrugged and smiled.

‘‘I’m happy to have all of you here’’

Simon simply nodded, his arms crossed over the table and his eyes returned to the arch that led to the hallway, where Christine had disappeared. Heather smiled again and tried to exchange a knowing look with her husband, but John was emptying his glass of red wine.

Christine stopped in the hall, still able to listen to the sounds coming from the dining room next to the kitchen, but far enough to not disturb them with her conversation, already dialing the number.

‘‘Took you long enough’’ Kate Laswell’s voice was a bit dry when she answered after making her wait for almost twenty seconds, but Christine went for the throat.

‘‘What the fuck is this shit about you needing rescue back in November?’’

‘‘Oh’’

‘‘Oh? What the fuck, ‘oh’? Start explaining why and how you were kidnapped and I didn’t know a thing about it’’

‘‘You were… unwell back in November, honey’’ Kate’s voice was gentler now, and Christine gritted her teeth.

‘‘I could walk’’

‘‘Barely’’

‘‘That’s low’’ Christine snarled, looking in the direction of the dining room when she could hear louder laughter, from Kyle, Johnny and Gabi. ‘‘You can’t expect me to…’’

‘‘I can. You were hanging on to your sanity by a thread back then’’ Kate sighed lightly before continuing, soothingly. ‘‘I didn’t have time for anything, Christine, much less for calling for help. I barely had time to radio John and Gaz.’’

‘‘You’re fucking lucky’’

‘‘I know’’

‘‘I would have gone’’

‘‘I know… My wife says thanks for the almond cake recipe, by the way’’

Christine grunted something under her breath, relieved to hear Kate’s low laugh and deciding to ignore her obvious attempt at changing the subject.

‘‘It was nothing’’

‘‘Can we talk when I’m back? I prefer talking to you face to face’’

‘‘… sure. When are you coming back?’’

‘‘Soon. Gotta go, my wife is threatening me with a wooden spoon through the window, I’m not supposed to answer calls on my work phone when I’m off’’

‘‘Serves you right’’ Christine mumbled again, and Kate laughed. ‘‘See you soon’’

‘‘See you soon’’

She sighed and returned her phone to her pocket, and turned around to go back to the dining room. But she found herself face to chest with Simon, who was standing a couple of steps away from her, in silence.

‘‘Joder! (Fuck!)’’ Christine gasped, but then she smiled and laughed, visibly relieved. ‘‘Sorry, did I take too long?’’

‘‘No’’ Simon shook his head, hands inside the pockets of his hoodie as usual, but his balaclava was still hooked over his nose. ‘‘Gabi is recruiting Johnny and Kyle into helping do the dishes’’

‘‘Oh yeah, her and I talked about it before coming’’ She nodded, taking a peek at the dining room arch door, and then at him again when he didn’t move an inch. His eyes were focused on her hair. ‘‘What?’’

‘‘I’ve never seen you with your hair down’’ He murmured, and she couldn’t help but blush, thankful for the dimness of the hallway. It was true that she had decided to wear her hair down for once, instead of in her usual ponytail, braid or bun. And sitting next to him at the dining table, she had noticed him looking at her quite often during dinner.

‘‘Oh, and what’s the veredict?’’ Christine giggled softly, trying to make a joke, but her smile faltered when he leaned in slightly, bringing his face closer to her hair. She even stood on her tiptoes discreetely, feeling stupid, but strangely excited.

Simon was feeling conflicted, once that he initiated the movement before he was even aware of what he was doing. Now, with his nose mere inches away from the crown of her head, so close that he could smell her shampoo – something with flowers, he guessed – he fought himself to keep his hands inside his pockets. They were in Price’s hallway after all.

Being away for almost a week had been torture, and now, having her this close…

‘‘I like it’’ He rumbled, his subconscious feeling her shudder with the sound of his voice. ‘‘I like your hair’’

‘‘Now you’ll say it makes me beautiful to wear it down…’’ Christine teased, trying desperately to hide the way her body was trembling, specially when he finally buried his nose in her hair.

‘‘You’re always beautiful’’

A loud crash sounded in the kitchen, and then a chorus of laughter. They stayed like that for a couple of seconds more, without moving, and finally, she stepped back, he pulled down his balaclava, and side by side went to the kitchen to see what the other three were doing with the dishes instead of washing them.

Half hidden by the dinning room hallway, Heather and John kept their silence until the kitchen’s door closed, and then she smiled sweetly at her husband.

‘‘Oh, honey’’

‘‘That wasn’t Ghost over there’’ John looked half glad and half concerned, with one arm wrapped around his wife’s waist, feeling her excitement. ‘‘That was Simon’’

‘‘I know’’ Heather could barely contain her happiness. ‘‘Oh, honey, I’m so glad’’

‘‘So am I, sweetheart, but…’’ John hesitated before asking, knowing the answer beforehand. ‘‘Don’t think about it as their friend. What’s your professional opinion?’’

‘‘I can’t speak about my patients, darling’’ Heather teased, jabbing a finger into her husband’s full stomach and giggling when he growled and grabbed her hand.

‘‘Then don’t speak about your patients, speak about our kids’’

She giggled again, and then tangled her fingers in his muttonchops lovingly.

‘‘I remember Simon back when I met him in that London café, with you. All smiles and cocky attitude, and so happy with that little toy plane that he had bought for his nephew’’

John nodded, his blue eyes a bit glossy now thinking about back then. He missed that Simon. He was glad that Simon was still there, inside of Ghost, somewhere, and that little by little, the shell was breaking.

‘‘If you’re asking if I think what it’s growing between him and Christine is good… yeah, I think it is’’ Heather continued, tugging lightly at his facial hair and giggling when he grumbled. ‘‘It’s a curious thing. What she needs most is to take care of others, to feel useful. And to be taken care of, to feel loved, needed. And the same goes for him’’

‘‘Well… we’ll see how it goes’’ John sighed, listening to the laughter and the clattering of dishes coming from the kitchen.

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