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nancypullen · 2 years

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Whining

Brace yourself, I’m going to complain. Whyyyyy is it so hard for people to just show up on time and do their job correctly?

Seriously, that’s all I’m asking. I think I had sky high hopes that because we sold our house in Tennessee at a good price and we’d have wads of cash to spruce up this place, that it would be easy. Before I continue this rant, please know that I am grateful to from the top of my head to the soles of my feet that these are the problems in my basket. I know that compared to the burdens that some are shouldering, my frustrations (and that’s really all they are) don’t amount to much. I think I’m finding out that I don’t go with the flow as easily as I used to, and that I have a huge need for nesting and normalcy. I’m a homebody and these stinkin’ contractors are keeping me from making a home! Yesterday was floor installation day. The guy who came weeks ago and did the measuring and worked up the estimate said it could be a two day job, but he thought they could get it done in a day. I resigned myself to being trapped upstairs for a day knowing that my reward would be spiffy new floors. Small price to pay. I was working when we had our floors done in Mt. Juliet - Mickey and I pulled up the carpeting, prepped the floors, and I trotted off to work the next morning. When I came home I had new floors, presto change-o! This time I was here for every whack of the hammer. Or whatever they use. They didn’t show up until 10 o’clock. They set the smoke alarms off with their saw. They didn’t finish until NINE O’CLOCK last night. Mickey had zipped out at noon and purchased lunch for the whole crew, but we didn’t buy them dinner. We ended up having tuna sandwiches at 9:30 because we were starving. We toasted our new floors with Diet Coke and went to bed. Today was furniture delivery day and dishwasher installation day. The furniture guys showed up right on time and brought in the new sofa and loveseat. Hooray! That has been the one and only easy part of this process - I fully expected to sit down and have the whole thing collapse. The dishwasher was the last piece of the kitchen appliance swap and we were scheduled between noon and 3pm. At 3:40 they called to say they’d be late. No kidding. That’s no big deal, I figured they ran into issues at another house and it’s not as if I had an urgent dishwashing need. But as time passed I started to wonder if they were coming at all. A truck pulled up just after 5 o’clock and they hustled in talking a mile a minute and measuring spaces. The first thing he said was that he had to take off my brand new quarter round to get the old dishwasher out - well, of course. They pulled the old one out, loaded it on their truck, and brought the shiny new one in. Everything went smoothly and they let us know on the way out that they take trim off but they do not replace it. They’re plumbers, not carpenters. It’s a minor inconvenience, and I know it’s truly not their job, but it still made me want to flip them off. The next project is painting. He’s supposed to start on the 8th and he said the interior of the house plus trim will take 3 days. Why do I have the feeling we’ll be sharing a Thanksgiving meal? I’m pinning all of my hopes on this guy being the one who restores my faith in America’s work ethic. After this it’s kitchen counter tops and getting the cabinets painted. This is not necessarily the order we’d planned to do things, but when someone finally returns your call and puts you on the schedule, you take it! Want to know the real reason I’m miffed? I had plans for today. I figured the furniture delivery would take about ten minutes (which it did) and the dishwasher installation maybe 45 minutes. - which was also about right. But that loooong stretch of waiting for the dishwasher guys screwed up my plan. I needed to be in my kitchen. I was supposed to be making cupcakes for the Queen’s jubilee. I mean, I have priorities. I’ll make them tomorrow, but I was supposed to kick off Elizabeth’s platinum jubilee today. Shout out to my fellow anglophile, Francie! Anyway, I’ll bake and decorate tomorrow and then share the reasons for my choices. Let’s just say that the Queen likes lemon. If you caught any of the celebrations so far, you’ll know that the star of the show has been wee Prince Louis. While on the balcony of Buckingham Palace with his great-granny, Queen Elizabeth, he pulled faces, got quite dramatic during the flyover, and executed a little march during the playing of God Save the Queen. Royal blood or not, kids are kids.

This is probably when HRH threatened to behead him, or maybe just a gentle reminder that the Tower of London has some empty cells. Doesn’t Elizabeth look great for 96?

I suppose if all you have to do is ring a bell to get anything you want, you might age more gracefully than the average gal. Then again, she’s not immune to life’s struggles. Prince Andrew, general creep and possible pedophile, was noticeably absent. The official story is that he tested positive for COVID and will miss the festivities. How convenient. I’m fine with that. Keep him out of sight, let Liz have her day. Seventy years on the throne deserves revelry and merrymaking. Just between you and me, you know Charles is grateful that Andrew makes him look slightly less repulsive. I really wish QE would pass over Charles and put Anne on the throne. She’s been the hardest working royal for decades. I loved this shot of Anne and William riding during the Trooping of the Colours.

Give her the crown. Well, I’ve gone from whining about home renovations to gossiping about England’s royal family. That’s normal, right? I’m hoping with all my heart that things get closer to normal around here very soon. We still have to replace carpet in one bedroom because apparently the former owners were raising farm animals in there or something. Mickey has pulled up the carpet and done all of the prep work, now we get to wait for a date to lay the carpet. What do you want to bet that the only date available for six months will be during the three days of painting? Mercury will be out of retrograde later tonight. Everything will immediately go back to normal and life will be free and easy. I’m sure of it. Universe, don’t prove me wrong. This would probably be a good time to say that if I owe you an email or phone call, I’m so sorry. I have been throwing myself a pity party and wouldn’t have been good company or a happy correspondent. I promise to do better. Believe me, I value my dear friends - I’d be bonkers if I couldn’t cling to the thought of perfectly well-adjusted people out there in the world caring about me. Alright, I’m putting on my big girl panties and moving on. Emails and calls coming soon. Time to switch on this brand new dishwasher and see if she works. I’m off to take a bath and read a book (just started Pretty Little Wife by Darby Kane and it’s a page turner!). Back tomorrow with jubilee cupcakes and a better attitude. Stay safe, stay well, please keep masking! XOXO, Nancy

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trusttricks · 2 years

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Aruna reddy

#Aruna reddy full

#Aruna reddy professional

With my movements clear at the qualifying stage, I knew I was getting there. I usually share my targets at competitions with my sister but this time around I kept it to myself. “It was the first competition where I was without any pressure and confident of winning a medal. However, the recent World Cup was smooth. To regain rhythm, you will need another six to seven months of rigorous training,” she explains. An injury puts you out of action for at least six months, dragging your performance right down. The sport itself is risky and dangerous when it comes to injuries - you don’t know what can hit you when.

#Aruna reddy professional

“I will register myself for the IPCC (Integrated Professional Competency Course) by the end of this year.”īesides the rough and tumble, gymnastics also demands sacrifices, according to Aruna. She now wants to be a Chartered Accountant. And the grades? “80 per cent!” exclaims the Commerce graduate. I would buy books in February and take exams in March,” she chuckles. “The managements of St Mary’s Colleges in Basheerbagh and Yousufguda, where I did my Intermediate and Degree, were ever helpful when it came to attendance. TOPS helped me train abroad and enhance my routines.”Īruna also doesn’t forget the encouragement she received from institutions where she studied. Now, I am in the central government’s TOPS Scheme (that aids potential medallists at Olympics). Support from the Sports Authority of India and coach Bisweswar Nandi sir was always there. Two years later, I got into the Indian camp and things looked up. “I wanted to discontinue gymnastics after my father passed away but my sister, brother-in-law and mother kept me going. In terms of support, it has always come from family, coaches and friends. After his demise, I was on my own, feeling responsible for my career, dealing with and sorting out the many problems and moving on in life,” the toughie said. I went to school, then to the gym and was at play. “Life was very comfortable as long as my father was around. “My sister Pavani - a Company Secretary who is 12 years older to me and had got married two years before our father’s demise - and brother-in-law (Janardhan Reddy, a civil contractor) who live next door have also been helping us in emergencies,” Aruna added. Among the big sums, I got `8 lakh at the 2015 National Games, before that, Rs 5 lakh and for the Commonwealth Games participation, Rs 3 lakh,” Aruna informed. The flow of funds wasn’t a monthy affair, “but about annual. We used to make do with the prize money I won at competitions,” the 22-year-old said. “After my father died, there was no income in our home.

#Aruna reddy full

Much like her gymnastics routine, life has been full of twists and turns for Aruna, moreso after the demise of her father when she was only 14, from which age she has been looking after her homemaker mother via cash incentives and prize money won at gymnastics, her only source of income. The foam pit is dust infested and has been causing allergies to trainees. The false ceiling can fall anytime - it has already given in twice. More pressing is the need to refurbish the Gymnastics Hall at the LBS, which is in a poor state. It all started at Hyderabad’s Lal Bahadur Stadium “under Swarnalatha madam.” Then it was “Ravinder sir and now Brij Mohan sir who coached me.” Her home in Rajendranagar is 11 kilometres from the Stadium and Aruna has been using public transport (bus) to reach LBS whenever she is not attending the national camp in Delhi. At 10, I won a national medal and took sports seriously,” she told this newspaper on Thursday. But with two girls, he guided my sister into studies and sent me to play. “More than me, my father was interested in sport. Aruna started as a karate kid “at the age of three and switched to gymnastics at the insistence of my karate master when I was seven.” With that bronze medal, the Hyderabad girl vaulted into the hearts of sports lovers in the country. Hyderabad: Budda Aruna Reddy sprinted, soared, somersaulted and landed on the Gymnastics World Cup podium, the first Indian to take the pride of place at the prestigious event held in Melbourne recently.

#Aruna reddy

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felikatze · 3 years

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give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

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okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

#Feli gets asked #lobotomy corporation #ayin #library of ruina #also i saw apparently another fandom besides lc uses the ayin tag which is just fun to watch honestly #many characters could rival this word vomit probably but as i said i already inflicted most of my thoughts abt netz on my good pal borgor #thank you borgor for dragging me back into projmoon stuff. also curse you terribly #long post #Feli speaks

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caranfindel · 3 years

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Episode recap/review: Walker 1.14

I didn't expect to recap 1.14 and yet here I am, still avoiding my unfinished Summergen fic. I'm actually writing this in real time, as I watch the episode. So for once I'm not pretending I don't know what happens. I literally don't know.

We begin with Cordell and Grandpa clearing up the crime scene. How much do I love Cordell saying "Daddy?" A lot. And not in that way, you perverts. It just really brings out the Texan.

Liam is in bed, recuperating. He gets a call (note that he calls himself William professionally, which is news to me, and I like it for whatever reason) from someone asking for a comment, which he starts to angrily refuse before Gramma Walker grabs his phone and hangs up. Gramma Walker going all Mama Bear for Liam is also interesting, and unexpected. But Liam says "I can take care of myself" and she says "No, you can't. None of you boys can." And then looks sadly out the window, where Cordell and Grandpa are taking down the crime scene tape. I just have to think "none" and not "both" means she's thinking of poor dead Hoyt, who she obviously loved like a son, if not more so. (More evidence for the Hoyt is her lovechild file? Maybe.)

Geri shows up, wearing an unnecessary cowboy hat and Hoyt's old jacket. She's bearing Hoyt's last will and testament, written on a bar coaster! Oh, my heart. And in case you can't read it:

If I get shivved in the shower or some old horse kicks me upside the head. For real Liam stamp it and everything - I leave everything to Geri/"Geraldine Broussard"/angle [sic] face sweet lips etc. So that plot I bought over in Tanglewood is for her and whatever I got in my pockets or elsewhere. See ya in the next life.

Angle face!

I'm not sure this would stand up in court, since he didn't even sign his last name, although it is witnessed by William Walker. Anyway, it's a moot point, because the land Hoyt intended to give Geraldine "Angle Face" Broussard is transferring to new owners, effective tomorrow. Which makes no sense. The deal fell apart because he died, and yet it's so soon after his death that the police tape is still up. New owners wouldn't be in the picture that quickly. Reverting to previous owners, because it was owner-financed? Sure. But not new owners. (Whatever, Caranfindel. Move it along.) She asks Cordell to go with her to gather his personal belongings. And to bring the kids. Hmmm, let's see how Stella can mess this up. (Tanglewood is 71 miles from Austin. Of course I looked it up.)

But first, Cordell has to sign paperwork to begin his leave of absence. So he didn't actually intend to quit. I mean, we all knew he'd be back, but I kind of thought he was, at the time, intending to quit for good. Does Connie the HR person have a big old crush on him? There is hand touching and deep, serious gazing.

Touch him, Connie. Touch him for those of us who cannot.

Micki is sitting right outside the conference room where he signs his papers but still acts surprised that he's in the building. Did she not smell the rosemary mint shampoo as he walked by? He thanks her for the flowers and apologizes for not calling her back. And then cancels their lunch plans so he can go off with Geri and the kids.

Someone said this on Tumblr, and I think it bears repeating here. It's interesting comparing Cordell's grief, over his wife and now his best friend, to Sam's grief. Cordell is clearly deeply affected, and is also clearly moving on. Sam is just unhinged.

Elsewhere. The gang stops for lunch and reminisces about Hoyt dressed as Santa, wearing assless chaps. Well. That's memorable. (Also, I know people who did the whole leaving horse manure and pretending it's reindeer poop thing. Some people are just a lot more into Santa than I was.) Trevor (Travis? Whatever) called Stella. She's apparently avoiding him. Probably a good call, sis. Maybe the only one you've made in 14 episodes. (To be fair, I didn't watch the first four.)

Micki shares tacos with her boyfriend, whose name I can never remember, having been stood up by Cordell. She tells him Cordell seemed "off," which is great now, Micki. Why didn't you pay more attention to that feeling last week? The BF thinks Micki herself might be off, because she misses her partner. And she calls him family. Captain What's His Face comes to talk to Trey (that's his name, dammit) and asks if he knows a guy who goes to the same physical therapist's office. Friends, when I've done PT, I don't even know people who go to my therapist, let alone just go to someone in the same office. But maybe folks in Austin are just friendlier than they are round these parts. Oh, wait. The guy is missing, and was last seen in a heated discussion with Trey? What's up with that, Trey?

Tanglewood. Cordell asks the nice lady (realtor? owner?) about Hoyt's "personal affects," and she says "they are probably out grazing." Because Hoyt's personal effects are four horses and a llama. Which Geri owns now. "Where am I going to board four horses and a llama?" she asks. Cordell is oddly befuddled (and adorably, cause y'all know how I feel about befuddled Jared), as if he didn't live on a ranch. With horses. The family business, remember? The kids are entranced. I would be too. It's a damn cute llama. One of the mares actually nursed the llama, so they're family. (Watch out for falling anvils.)

Micki's house. Trey says the "heated discussion" was the missing guy showing him a judo move. Captain asks Trey to ride along and help him investigate, and poor partnerless Micki asks if she can come with.

Tanglewood. Apparently Hoyt's personal affects also included gear for the four horses, because everyone is saddled up. Geri doesn't seem like an experienced rider - she keeps her hand on the pommel of the saddle, which I always heard was a rube move. (At least she's not clutching the saddle horn. No shade. It's hard not to. It's a perfect handle and it's just right there.) Cordell, of course, rides perfectly, as he does everything perfectly.

Everything except his job. And raising his kids. But do I care about those things? Not so much.

Geri thinks the llama looks unwell. What is she, a llama expert? A veterinarian? And what are they doing on this trail ride anyway - taking the herd back to the Walker ranch? It's 71 miles away! It's an hour and a half driving! How will they get the truck? Why didn't Cordell just say "let's go back to the ranch and get Daddy's cattle trailer?" WHY.

(No one cares. No one but you thinks about these things.)

Stella is on her phone, but it turns out she's (allegedly) re-reading Hoyt's last text, not chatting with friends. And then she says she was "responsible for everything." Oh, wait. We're going there? Stella is finally going to face the music? Cordell says it's not her fault, but they're interrupted by the llama, who apparently is in distress. Cordell wants to leave him at a random homestead. Permanently? Like, "excuse me, ma'am, but can you take this llama?" Or just while they get the horses home? I dunno.

August doesn't like this, because the llama and the horses are family. Geri distracts him by claiming Hoyt wanted him to have the jacket she's wearing, although I find this rather dubious, because why did she wait so long to mention it? Why is she wearing it herself? It's a lucky jacket he won from a tarot card reader and card hustler named The Mystifying Mehar, who was "infamous for getting out of trouble because of that jacket." Cordell then asks Geri to go off with the kids while he hangs back and tries to ditch the llama. Oh no, Cordell, don't do that. He's family!

Back at the ranch, Grandpa chases off some more journalists. He also ignores Gramma's concern about his cancer.

Trail ride. We skipped the whole bit where Cordell found someone willing to take in a goddamn llama, caught up with his kids, and told them what he did. They're mad that he wouldn't even try, and then Stella impulsively rides off, almost falling into a revine.

Team Sassyboots 2.0 questions the missing guy's wife. Turns out he left a note. Doesn't sound like he's as missing as they thought. He said he would "fix everything," i.e., their upcoming foreclosure. They check his workshop and find evidence that he was a military contractor, and apparently this means he should have no money problems whatsoever, because they don't understand how money works. His gun safe is empty, so they figure he's on some kind of "black ops" job. And if it's going to be complete by Monday, I assume it's something local, and not a military operation.

Walker Ranch. Someone who is Liam's "political opponent" comes to take care of him? And he's bringing barbeque? Is it poisoned? Gramma says Liam can't have barbecue because he's on bedrest, as if one had anything to do with the other. And... Grandpa wants to go mushroom hunting with her? Is that what the kids call it these days?

Trail ride. Cordell found someone to keep the horses. Temporarily? I'm still confused. Stella and Geri talk about Hoyt, and Stella asks about her forgiving him. Thinking about some forgiveness toward your own bad boy, Stella? She says "the two of you were always kind of like the dream to me," which is odd considering they were off-and-on, while her parents were very much on, and definitely seem more like couple goals. But okay. Stella confesses again that she is responsible, and Geri says "you let love in, maybe; that's your worse crime." I wonder if Stella blames herself for the fake truck crash that started the whole domino effect, or if she even realizes that's what happened. Obviously Geri wouldn't. Hmmm, I wonder what August thinks about all this?

Walker Ranch. Whoever this political opponent is, he must be a family friend, because he gave a toast at Cordell and Emily's rehearsal dinner. "Hey, when did your brother have such long hair," he asks, looking at a picture of the happy couple. Liam is growing facial hair again. I like it. Opponent suggests the spicy barbecue will put hair on Liam's chest and Liam tosses it aside and says "no, dammit, after I spent all that time waxing?" And Liam might drop out of whatever race he's in. I don't really care about that part. Let's talk more about Liam's chest.

I love that they can use actual Padalecki family photos as Cordell and Emily photos. No bad Photoshop needed!

Team Sassyboots 2.0. I don't really care about this missing guy either. Skipping it. You know, I understand this is meant to be an ensemble show, and Jared Padalecki and his stupid pretty face and long legs are not going to be in every scene. But Micki working a case with her boss and her boyfriend just bothers me and I don't want to be a part of it.

Trail ride. They're bedding down in the barn for the night? What the fuck? Where are they? Why didn't they just drive home? I'm so confused! Cordell and Geri talk about Hoyt some more. Cordell makes an awkward comment about "us together" and then amends it to mean all of us together, as in you and me and the kids camping right now, not, like, you and me together together, and then does a little eyebrow thing like whoo, good job, talked your way out of that one. NO, CORDELL, YOU ARE NOT AS SMOOTH AS YOU THINK YOU ARE. Anyway. There's a lot of guilt about poor dead Hoyt. Cordell tells Geri her name is still on the Sidestep lease (lease? I thought they owned it?), as if being part owner of a bar is always going to be a good thing, with no liability at all. And they don't kiss, for which I am grateful. The horses are really acting up. I hope nothing's happening.

Cordell checks on the horses and apologizes to the mare for leaving the llama behind. He realizes he made the wrong choice. "You know what," he says. "Let's go fix this."

I adore him.

Walker Ranch. Grandpa and Gramma have been mushroom hunting and are now getting silly. Um, what kind of mushrooms did you two find? And then Grandpa says "tonight's about Hoyt," which I do not understand. "I saw the joy he gave you," Grandpa says. Yes, Grandpa, and do you not find that even a little bit fishy? And then he decides to build something.

Trail ride. Cordell went and retrieved his llama! He is precious. I love him so much. He has some pratfalls in the same ravine that almost caught Stella, and then his family shows up and rescues him. (Can I point out that his "a-ha-ha" laugh is the same one we heard when he opened his gift from Dean in "A Very Supernatural Christmas" and I'm not sure it appeared in any other episode?) August offers the Lucky Jacket to use as a llama harness to haul the little guy out of the ravine. Oh, and it turns out the llama is about to give birth.

And, while I'm skipping Team Sassyboots 2.0, it's hard to ignore that Micki is now in a UFC fight. That might have been an interesting story after all. Y'all can fill me in.

Walker Ranch. They're building a little stable. Because this big horse ranch doesn't have enough stables. Liam, who was bedridden to the point of not being able to eat barbeque yesterday, is now helping build. He gets a text from his former fiance, who wants to talk. And Grandpa has decided to treat his cancer. Happy endings all around!

Micki's house. She says she was passive-aggressive with Walker because she's afraid of losing him. I get it, sweetie. He's someone you don't want to lose.

Trail ride. August is carrying the newborn llama, wrapped in the Lucky Jacket. Geri wants to cut out before they get to the ranch. She's going to ride the bus home? Seriously? Isn't her car at the Walker Ranch? She and Cordell talk abou their unfinished business. Yeah, like the fact she was probably involved in your wife's murder? That unfinished business, Geraldine? Grandpa meets them before they get to the ranch and informs them he has a strict no-llama policy on the ranch. But luckily, he just built an alpaca stable. They’re alpacas, not llamas. So, Geri called him, but how did he know they were alpacas? Did she send pictures? I am so confused. Anyway. The new family goes into their new home. They name the baby alpaca Hoyt, of course.

Little Hoyt, guys, he's the sweetest thing.

Breakfast. Political Opponent gives Liam a contribution. Oh, I get it. They're running for the same office, and he thinks Liam will draw votes away from his other opponent. Shrewd. Stella calls Trevor and says she might need to leave the past behind. And you are the past, Trevor. Cordell sees a truck pull up and runs out to meet Micki. She apologizes for holding a grudge over him leaving. She tries to shake hands and he hugs her instead. She thinks they can just be friends now instead of partners, and he says they're not friends, they're family. And then she oohs and aahs over the alpacas, which she recognizes immediately as alpacas and not llamas, and also points out that little Hoyt is actually a girl. Oops. Awkward. Cordell is surprised she can just tell. "Most people can." Yeah, you are the worst rancher's son ever. Then Cordell sees the fence is carved with a memorial to Hoyt. Aw.

He is also the sweetest thing.

So. Less drama than last week. More warmth. A ridiculous B story that was as annoying as giving Cas his own plot. Will I still watch next week? Yeah, probably. I have questions. How did Grandpa know they were alpacas? Where is the baby daddy? Can Cordell and his rancher father really not tell the difference between a male and female alpaca? Why is Geri riding the bus home, when her car is at the Walker's? Why is she avoiding the Walker Ranch? Will August ever get his own plot again?

It's just a shame that this episode didn't have any shout-outs to Supernatural, like the last one did...

#walker #recap/review #tv recap #1.14 #spoilers

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thepropertylovers · 3 years

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How I Really Feel About Living on a Farm

“What am I doing?”

This is a common question I ask myself out at the farm. I’m so out of my element here. I grew up in the middle of town (in the house we live in now, actually) so far from any kind of farm experience, and to be honest, I liked it that way. I had no interest in visiting or spending any amount of time on a farm, let alone live on one. The only “farm” I did go to when I was young was my grandma’s and it wasn’t even an actual farm- it was just a lot of acres.

Meanwhile, PJ grew up on a farm and spent every waking minute outside with his sister and cousins running around the pastures, swimming and playing in the creeks, climbing trees, and accruing just about every animal that has ever walked the earth. We couldn’t be more different in that regard.

So PJ, obviously, is very much in his element out here. He spends all day outside working on the land or taking care of the animals and it’s total bliss for him. Nature restores and relaxes him. It’s his happy place; a place he can be free to do whatever his creative mind and big heart desires. I’ve mentioned before how he always has to be doing something, and on a farm with a never-ending to do list, there’s always something for him to do.

On any given day, PJ could be burning brush, mowing the fields with his tractor and/or lawn mower (two machines he is obsessed with and for good reason: I drove the zero-turn mower a few weeks and that thing is so fun!), cleaning up the yard and trimming the trees, demoing the inside of Holiday House, installing lights, tending to the sheep and the geese, and calling a million contractors (who have been extremely difficult to deal with lately but that’s a story for a different day) to work on bigger jobs like building the fences and the ponds. My fingers are exhausted from typing all of that. I can’t imagine how he feels.

The crazy thing is, as he’s told me before: it’s not really even work to him. I mean it is, but it’s not. He enjoys it so much that I don’t think he considers it a chore or a burden that weighs him down, it’s just part of starting a farm and he isn’t (and has never been) afraid of putting in the elbow grease required to achieve his dreams.

Then enter me. For reasons mentioned above as to why I feel I am out of my element at OF (Ocoee Farm), I know absolutely nothing about starting a farm or caring for farm animals. I have read articles online about it and watched a few documentaries that inspired the hell out of us to actually do this thing, but I think I’ve determined I’m going to have to learn the old fashioned way: by experience. And of course, from PJ. I learn so much from him on a daily basis about the mechanics and workings of everything out here. He knows so much about so much (he swears he doesn’t but don’t believe him) that I never get tired of learning from him. Ever.

Though I feel out of place at the farm, I will be the first to admit, I love being here. I love living at our farm. I love the freedom and the space and the hills and the mountain (oh my god the mountain!) that is always watching over us from high above. I always thought I would hate living so far from town but I haven’t minded it one bit since we’ve been spending more time here. Now, that could change once school starts for the boys in the fall (and we have to drive 30 min just for school, which we may not even entertain that idea), but for now I am content; smitten even, with how far away from the outside world we feel.

PJ’s mom and my mom keep checking in with me to see if I really do like it out here. They both admit they knew PJ would love it, but had their doubts about how I would feel not being in town anymore. They were relieved and maybe even a little shocked when I told them I was completely happy at the farm, and to be honest, I think I was a little surprised by how much I enjoy it out here, too.

All five of us just seem to function better at the farm. The kids have so much space to run and play and explore, and they’re so tired (and dirty) at the end of the day that they have no problem falling asleep at bedtime. And then there’s no need to go into anymore detail about PJ because you already know he is in heaven out here, so then that leaves me, and y’all, I am loving the new experiences that seem to happen daily at Ocoee Farm, for example, the other night I helped milk a goat (!) for the first time in my life. It was wild and different and beautiful and weird but the thing that made it so great was that I did it with PJ. Just the two of us and that beautiful, innocent animal. It’s hard to explain, but it was an intimate moment that I never would have gotten in town, and I’m feeling extra grateful for OF and for PJ today.

So after spending more than a month out here at Ocoee Farm and Holiday House, I’ve come to the conclusion that I know exactly what I’m doing here, even if I don’t always know how to do it. No, wait, that doesn’t make sense. Basically, I love it here because, well, I do, and my family does, and I’m 100% sure this is exactly where we’re all supposed to be right now.

This is our future, and I think it’s going to be a wild and different and beautiful and weird and great future for all of us.

#holiday house #Ocoee Farm

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angst-fairygodmother · 3 years

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Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER ONE: FIRST DAY

When your cousin Sean and his friend start up a valet business at Nino’s, where you work as a waitress, you don’t expect it to lead to any of what happens next.

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x Reader Word Count: 1893 Rating: T - mild language, reference to harassment

Masterlist

“So, how does it feel, your first big boy job?” you teased, elbowing your cousin in the ribs.

“Oh haha,” Sean drawled, swatting at you. “You’re hilarious.”

“And adorable.” You dodged out his reach, and the two of you proceeded to chase each other around the podium for several minutes.

“I’m serious though, Sean. Suggesting Nino start doing valet parking, organizing the whole thing. I think it’s great. Better than car washes and dog walking. It shows initiative, and it’ll get Don off your back a bit.”

“How’d you know that was one of the goals?”

“Because I know you. Really, my only disappointment is that you brought him along.” You gestured over your shoulder to Derek who was just walking up.

“Hey, come on now!” he cried.

“Derek’s my best mate, you know that Y/N,” Sean sighed. “And I think you two would get along if you gave him a chance.”

“Yeah, but he’s so...him,” you sighed, making a face of mock disgust.

“Yo, hold up, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that question?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, whether he took it as a warning or challenge was up to him.

“Yeah. If you got a problem with me, I wanna know what it is.”

“I don’t have a problem with you, per se. It’s just that...you’re arrogant, and loud. Not even your voice, just, the way you are. You act like you’re hot shit, but you’re not half as clever as you think.”

He scoffed in disbelief and even though you knew you should leave it there, something made you want to keep pushing, almost to see what happened if you got him riled enough.

“If you were, you wouldn’t be working nothing but a string of dead-end jobs.” You shrugged. “Frankly, I think both of you are wasting considerable talent being valets instead of looking at the bigger picture.”

“Wait, hang on!” Sean protested. “A minute ago you were praising my initiative.”

“Better to start your own idea than working someone else’s, sure, but I was mostly trying to be nice.” You flashed an apologetic grimace, nose wrinkling. “You’re my favorite cousin and I love you?” you continued in a rush, hoping to cover up your admission of insincerity with charm.

Sean rolled his eyes fondly at you.

“Well if you’re so smart, how come you ain’t doin any better? You’re just like us, Miss Waitress,” Derek said mockingly.

“Except I’m doing this because textbooks cost like four hundred bucks a piece and I don’t have an extra kidney to sell. Unless you’re going to give me yours?” You gave him another challenging look before sighing. “As soon as I have that degree in my hand, I am outta here.”

“Some of us got families to take care of, can’t just run away when we get bored.”

“I…” you took a deep breath, deflating. “I didn’t mean it like that. All I was trying to say is I know Sean’s got talent and someone else is bound to notice eventually, and there’s probably a brain in that head of yours somewhere. I find it hard to believe that you want to do this for life. Family first sure, I get it, but don’t you want...don’t you deserve more?”

Derek and Sean both frowned, unsure of how to answer you. Of course neither of them wanted to be valets or car washers or grocery baggers forever. But they had bills to pay, food and rent and electricity to afford. If they didn’t keep up with here and now, all the bigger picture thinking and dreaming of the future in the world wasn’t going to help.

Something inside the restaurant caught your eye and you shook your head.

“I should probably get in there. Nino’s got Val doing place settings, and we probably don’t want to be auctioning off butter knives.” You shoved your hands in the pockets of your black slacks and flashed them both a smile. “Good luck tonight.”

Derek made no secret of staring at your ass as you walked away, a fact that Sean definitely noticed.

“Come on, seriously?” he asked his friend, making a gesture of both annoyance and defeat.

“What dawg? Your cousin’s kind of a bitch sometimes, but she’s hot as hell. I’m just appreciating.”

“Nino,” one of the chefs asked a few days later. “How come you don’t feed those two boys parking cars? You feed everyone else. They must be starved out there all night.”

Nino looked thoughtful, as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. You frowned, loading your tray with table seven’s appetizers.

“Well, they don’t really work for Nino like the rest of us, do they? They’re independent contractors,” you pointed out.

“Cold, Y/N,” the busboy, John, teased. “Throwing your cousin under the bus.”

You shrugged, weaving your way out of the kitchen. “If he wants food he should learn to put it in his contract.”

About an hour later, Nino was flagging you over, for the third time that night.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he said, rushed. “No one is eating the lasagna.”

“I can try to push more of it, talk it up or something?” you offered, not sure why he was telling you.

“No, no. It’s fine. I just don’t want to see it go to waste.” He smiled like an idea was suddenly dawning on him. “Why don’t you take some to the boys out front. David is right, they must be hungry.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. You should have suspected as soon as it was brought up that Nino would cave. Nodding, you went back to the kitchen to relay the order and wait.

With the two plates, rolled silverware tucked in your apron pocket, you made easy work of weaving through the restaurant and elbowing open the doors, only to grimace uncomfortably when you realized it was just Derek at their podium.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly, making him jump in surprise. “Uh...Nino thought you might be hungry and no one was eating the lasagna so he sent me out with some for you and Sean...where is Sean?”

“He’s just parking somebody, he’ll be back in a minute. Nino’s givin' us free food?” you tried to suppress a smile at the excitement in his voice.

“No, I just brought these out to taunt you,” you joked, rolling your eyes as you handed him one of the plates and dug into your pocket for his fork.

You were silent for a minute, shifting awkwardly, from foot to foot, still holding Sean’s plate and not sure what to do with it.

“About what I said the other night,” you said finally, chewing on your lip.

Derek stopped, fork halfway to his mouth and looked at you.

“I may have been...unreasonably harsh…” you said hesitantly. “And I…”

The words died on your throat as you found yourself wondering if you were actually sorry. You felt guilty, but you still meant what you said. Sean and Derek were both smart people, and you thought they could do better. You had been working at Nino’s since you were nineteen, and had seen so many people insist that a job was just temporary, only to still be there almost a decade later. You didn’t want to see that happen to either of them.

You were trying to remind yourself that it wasn’t about you, when Derek cut through your thoughts.

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve already forgotten,” he said. “It’s all good bro.”

“Oh.” He seemed so genuine in his reassurance and you weren’t sure what to do with that. Instead you changed the subject. “Where is Sean? Shouldn’t he be able to park a car quickly if he’s going to be a valet?”

“I can just hold onto his food, if you gotta get back in there.”

“Please,” you shook your head. “I’m in no rush to return to Awkward First Date, Going to Ask for a Divorce Any Second, or Family With the Twins from The Shining.”

“How come you only got three tables when the place is packed? Don’t you handle five or six like a breeze?”

“I got moved off two, one of them was my fault. So instead I get anyone that wants to eat at the bar. And my section has the last empty table. How’d you know how many tables I usually have?”

“Uh...I overheard some people talking when I went for a smoke break.” His eyes shifted to the side, avoiding your curious look.

“Riight.” You nodded exaggeratedly. There was no way in hell you believed that, unless they’d been gossiping about you losing tables, but he didn’t seem to know about that.

“Anyway, why’d they get pulled?”

“The one that was my fault or the one that wasn’t?”

“Both,” he sighed, making a somewhat impatient gesture. “Sean is out parking the first car that’s showed up in an hour. Talkin’ to you’s at least something to do.”

“Glad to know I rank above staring at the sidewalk or counting the windows across the street.” You rolled your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

You leaned back, resting your elbows against the edge of the podium, bringing your faces surprisingly close together. He shoveled a bite of food into his mouth to distract himself from that fact, and the things he was thinking he could do.

“Couple of suit-and-ties celebrating some sort of business deal. One of them asked the new kid if she was on the menu, a few other lewd comments. They made her really uncomfortable, so Nino switched us around, figuring I could handle it.” You shrugged. “Same guy got a little...grabby for things that aren’t his. Nino spotted it and decided to take over the table himself. That’s one down.”

Derek frowned. He’d known plenty of people that worked in restaurants. Managers, and owners especially, didn’t typically move someone off a table for a little handsiness. But maybe Nino was one of the rare ones that went above and beyond for his staff. And if not and you didn’t want to tell him the whole thing, who was he to judge?

“The other was a complaint that I was ‘belligerent.’”

“But you’re cuddlier than a kitten, how could they ever think that?” he laughed.

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly, laughing along.

“All I did was correct them on my name,” you protested. “...every time they called me Sweetcheeks.”

For some reason, this only made Derek laugh harder, nearly choking on a mouthful of pasta.

“Definitely not hostile.”

“Whatever, you dick.” You shoved him playfully and suddenly the two of you froze.

This was a shift in dynamic, a tipping point. Would he let you get away with it and tilt the scale from acquaintance to friendship? Or would he take offense?

Sean found you in that waiting tension, shattering it with his greeting as he finally returned from parking the car. You awkwardly explained the meal delivery and sighed that you had to get back to work, someone would come get the dishes in a bit.

Derek locked eyes with you as you turned to go. You flashed a quick smile back.

“Did I miss something?” you heard Sean ask, lilt exaggerated by his confusion.

#canon divergent au #look we all love Sean but I am very fond of Derek #and he did not deserve what happened #so I'm gonna fix it #eventually #Derek Sandoval x Reader #Bad Samaritan fic

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nattspencer · 4 years

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You finally came

Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader is trapped and can’t see Missy for a lot of months, until the Time Lady can finally find her beloved.

A/N: English is not my first language, therefore I’m really sorry for any mistakes, let me know about them. Writing this was really fun and I had the opportunity to actually talk and meet who requested it, that was really awesome, you are really awesome, so I really hope you like and that this little thing brightens your day.

Warnings: Mental games, prison, lack of freedom, mention of anxiety and depression.

Word count: 2k

Not my GIF

The part you miss the most is the sun. Not only the brightness, the warmth, but also the way it paints the sky in orange and pink shades when it dusk and dawn. You miss the sky too, so gorgeously blue, all tones of it, changing slyly throughout the day, so imperceptive to the busy rushy lives below. You remember just laying for hours in the green grass in your childhood just to see the clouds, all different shapes and forms. Not to mention the smells, the fresh air, the leaves, petrichor. It brought you so much peace and you just miss everything.

It’s just so very dark outside. No moons, no suns, no planets, just the black abism of the universe. It could drive someone mad. Maybe it’s driving you mad, maybe you just can’t see the difference between the telepathic illusions and the reality anymore. Who are you trying to fool? You are mad. Definitely human minds are not made to be frozen in time, or to be tortured by some sadistic maniac, and no, this time you’re not talking about your sadistic maniac, actually, all you desired was to see her face one last time. You’re talking about some other creature, some that you never even saw the face, but it was there, deep on your skull.

Seems ages ago when it all happened. You and Missy were chased by a platoon of Judoon for months, and no matter what you do, they were always there, every time closer to catch the entire TARDIS with both of you inside. It was on one of these times that they finally got you in their hands. The Time Lady had fried the ship’s dematerialization circuit on the last escape and the spare one was a bit too difectful, she then contacted someone on some market that she didn’t have time to explain quite well to you, but of course, it was a trap. As soon as you got your hands on the piece, you were surrounded by Judoon's troops, all you had time to do was to hit her vortex manipulator, before they blocked it. The very last contact you had with her was though the psychic link she held on you.

“I’m sorry Missy, I love you.” Seven words. That was all you were allowed to say until they blocked it too.

There was no escape left, and in a blink of an eye, you were transported to their ship, completely surrendered. Even in such a situation the Time Lady didn’t leave your thoughts, how she could ever live like that, all the chase, all the trouble, there’s no use in both of you getting caught, so you made a decision. She gifted you with all time and space, it’s time for you to give something to her in return. You begged to the rhino creatures to let you serve her sentence, one prison two sentences, quite a good deal to be honest. From far behind you an ice monotone voice agreed, it seemed to be the contractor, all was set to stone.

Since then you live between the stone and metal walls, with only a little barred window where you could see the abism of nothing, sometimes you like to just stare at the little distantes spots of stars and try to connect the dots to form images, it was a good way to pass the days. Lights in the ground made the place backlighted and it was almost a bit cozy if it wasn’t all that existed there. You wish your body was working properly, almost all your metabolisms were frozen in time, probably only your brain were still working to keep you conscious, and it took months for you to relearn how to turn off and sleep but still you miss the taste of food. God, what wouldn’t you give for a piece of chocolate.

As much as sleep makes you forget you’re here and numbs your pain, it also scares you to death. It wasn’t unusual for you to get nightmares, at times it felt that you weren't sleeping at all, the difference between them started to get fuzzy as the days passed by but Missy was present in every single one of them. Sometimes she would just laugh while she breaks all your bones, sometimes she would just spend hours mocking out loud all your flaws, insecurities and talking about how much she contempt you. Sometimes you saw her choking to death, sometimes she killed you, well, this last one stopped occurring these days, maybe they ran out of ideas, there’s a limited amount of ways to kill someone and you think you experienced them all.

However, sometimes you just pretend she was there, plastic and static like a picture.. You would talk to her about your day, your difficulties, just to see another face around helps, especially that one you loved, although an answer never was expected, it reminded you too much about the nightmares. Sometimes you just imagined her laying with you on the floor of your cell and staring at the roof while you remember all the adventures you had with her, all the time and space, all the creatures, all the running and most of all, all your moments together. Even if you were just a casual sex to her, she was way more to you.

Another ordinary day passed by, this time the nightmares were harder then the usual and you were afraid of everything. You would be crying if your tears hadn’t dried so long ago, now you were just writing on the wall, it became quite therapeutic thanks to the chalk you held in your pocket, but you only used it when it was really necessary to write your feelings down, too afraid that it could end when you needed the most. Suddenly a noise was heard and a new shadow could be seen by your side. It was happening again. You didn’t dare to look.

“Y/N?” Missy’s voice called your name and you couldn’t suppress your body from recoling “Y/N!” The sound of her heels getting closer to you was deafening. Your elbows rested on your knees and your hands covered your head turning your body in a tiny little ball of fear. You were ready for the first assault when all it came was a caress stroke on your shoulder, still, you shivered in terror. “Hey baby girl, it’s me, it’s just little old Missy.” a gentile voice spoke.

“It’s not, you’re not real, she didn’t come for me.” You said in a tiny trembling voice.

“I did. I was looking for you restlessly, poppet, I finally found you.”

“You’re just another mind game. What are you gonna do this time? Kill me again? Break all my bones? Tell me how disposable and useless I am? Go ahead, I’m waiting.” You’re getting sick of it, all you suffered wasn’t enough?

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through… it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t let you come with me to that shop. Please look at me.” Her hand danced carefully between your curls. It’s been so long since anyone touched you like that.

“Please, please go away or ruin me. I can’t take these games anymore. Please don’t give me hope, that’s all I ask.”

“He’s dead, Vansell is dead, I killed him myself.” Her voice was bitter. “Neither he nor anyone will ever put their hands in a single hair of yours ever again. I promise.” Vansell? You never heard this name before. Finally you glanced at the woman kneeling by your side. “I could feel you know... all your pain, all your misery from our psychic link. I was powerless, completely useless, he blocked all my answers, I couldn’t send anything to you and that killed me. Please Y/N, believe me, I’m here. Truly. We can leave.” She was fully bared before you, no mask, no mocking, that was purely her. Suddenly a smell caught your nose.

“What smell is it?” You couldn’t contain the question inside your mouth.

“I-it’s your perfume. It reminded me of you” Her eyes drifted from yours in embarrassment and then it was the first time you allowed yourself to truly look at her. Missy was ruined. Big black bags laid beneath her tired blue eyes, her hair was frizzy and falled roughly from her coiffure, she was almost without any makeup, all seemed to fall out with time. You couldn’t imagine any of that, not the way it is in front of you.

“It’s really you?” Your voice was muffled with fear.

“It’s me, baby girl, we can go home.” The Time Lady’s voice was cotton-candy soft.

“I’m scared.” You stated frowning.

“I know you are.”

“I don’t think I can move. I waited for so long but now I’m just too anxious and terrified to do anything.” It was confusing, your body was confusing.

“I’ll be by your side. We are going to have very difficult days, but I’ll be there. I got you. I’ll be your safe place, just like you became by when I needed the most.”

“Y-you don’t have to. Just leave me on the earth, you don’t need a broken pet.” Your heart skipped a beat, you could never be so special to her.

“The very last thing you said to me was ‘I love you’, let me prove to you that I feel that too. You became way more to be then just a pet, Y/N.”

“You really came.” There was no doubt, even in your sweetest dream you could imagine that, your self-loathing would never allow you. Finally you let yourself smile, the first one in months.

“I did. and I’ll always come to you.” Your faces were close, and slowly she leaned over you and met your lips with hers.

This kiss was definitely different from the others you shared with her. It was slow, delicate, sweet, as if nothing matters to her more then be there with you. Her hands cupped gentilly your face and you could feel her hearts beating fast through her palms. Her tongue danced the most private waltz with yours, showing with every single moviment how much you meant to her. The entire world faded to you, there were no problems, no insecurities, no fears, it was just you and your safe place. Only when you two were complete out of breath your kiss was broken, and she rested her forehead in yours.

“I can calm you down with a bit of hypnosis and we can go home, how does it sound?”

“Oh, so you haven’t used it yet.”

“No. I would never use it without asking permission. You’re far too important.”

“Then do it. I want to go home with you.”

The first nights weren’t easy to go through. You were too afraid to sleep and suddenly realize you’re still on that cell and this wasn’t more than a dream, too afraid to wake up one day and realize that Missy wasn’t there. However, the Time Lady was indeed always there for you, dealing with every single one of your fears, lulling every single one of your nights, helping you with teas and hypnosis whenever it was needed. With time, bit by bit, you were getting back to be yourself again. And then, you asked to see one of the things you missed the most, the sunrise.

Missy took you to the most marvelous place you ever saw. She was too excited that you wanted to leave the TARDIS and see something that, for her, it needed to be perfect. And it was. Two wonderful suns raised up upon the green valley mountains and warmed your skin, the sky was beautifully painted by orange, red and pink shades like in a masterpiece. The fresh wind blows your hair and fills your lungs with joy. Your favorite Time Lady wrapped her arms between your waist and rested her head on your shoulder standing behind you. Suddenly the realization falled on you, you’re finally free. A great view and your girl, that’s all you could ask for.

You are free.

#missy doctor who x reader #missy doctor who #the master x reader #missy/reader

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chryzure-archive · 3 years

Text

not on earth, not in my body

ALT TITLE: chrysi's having a manic episode and poor gil's over here like "what the HECK are you trying to say right now?"

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i wrote this all in one sitting until 4 am, then got 4 hours of sleep and went into work for 4 hours. 4′s the big number for today, apparently.

———

The crumbling walls of the dark alleyway loomed over her head. Droplets of water leaked from the drains almost as frequently as the raindrops pattering around her. Dark cobblestones glistened dully at her feet, speeding by as her steps ate up the ground as fast as she could.

“Chrysi! Wait!”

She didn’t slow down. She didn’t even throw a glance over her shoulder. She simply checked the placement of her knife in its sheath, her staff on her back, her pistol in its holster. Perhaps a bit of overkill, but it had come in handy just moments before. Though maybe that hadn’t been moments before. Maybe when she awoke on the cold wet ground, minutes had passed, or hours, or days. Time wasn’t half as linear as she thought it would be.

All she knew was that she took care of the illegal contractor—all alone, thank you very much, and she couldn’t help but feel the sting of bitterness at the reminder—and immediately blacked out, tumbling from one twisted memory to the next. Waking up after all that had been incomplete and unnatural. Chrysi still didn’t quite feel like she was in her own body. And she certainly didn’t want to bother with a conversation right now. There was a reason she opted to leave the scene as quickly as Pandora would allow her.

But her lack of response didn’t faze him, like she’d thought it would.

Gilbert snagged her wrist and she came to a screeching halt before her mind caught up to her actions.

Wow. He’d actually been bold enough to grab her.

Where the hell had that boldness gone when she’d tried to talk to him all those times, when she simply wanted to spend time with him?

She bit her tongue, careful not to let those poisonous words fall from her mouth.

Remembering made her irritable.

“What is it?” she asked with a quiet harshness.

She made no move to face him.

“You can’t just run off like that!” His grip shifted up her wrist. Lightly, he brushed his thumb over the vein on the inside of her wrist and she shivered. His concern was absentminded, a learned instinct from years of caring for another, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. “We have no clue what that Chain did to you before you took care of it. This is—this is irresponsible.”

Chrysi’s mouth twisted in an ugly smile that he couldn’t see. “I’m fine. Can’t you tell?” Irritation seeped into her words.

Gilbert let out an irritated huff of his own. “You’re just like Oz, you know. You try to ignore your feelings in order to keep things moving forward, even though you’re going to break under it eventually.”

Her eyebrow twitched.

Maybe she should’ve been touched that he compared her to his master—proof that she was just as important to him as Oz, or whatever the hell else it meant. But really, Chrysi was resentful, annoyed that he only ever saw qualities of Oz in her rather than who she was.

Not that she hated Oz himself. The kid was sweet and—okay, yes, admittedly she saw herself in him. She didn’t have a single crude thing to say about him.

But, damn, could Gil stop and see her for just one measly minute? No, for a second. A millisecond. Any fraction of time, really, just so he could understand the barest bones of who she was.

Chrysi wiped all emotion from her face. “Okay. And?” She turned to Gilbert finally, a dispassionate arch to her brow. “What are you going to do about it?”

He blinked long and hard, like he hadn’t been expecting that answer. Or any answer at all.

Chrysi would’ve laughed if she had it in her.

“What?” he finally managed. Confused. Obviously. Like that was a shock.

“Do you have any damn say in how I deal with my problems? Because I think that’s actually reserved for people that know me. Don’t you agree?”

He opened and closed his mouth uselessly. Clearly taken aback, clearly baffled, clearly unsure of anything she meant.

Oh, he was well outside of his pay grade in an argument with Chrysi. He had no hope of keeping up.

A savage, dangerous sort of satisfaction filled her at the thought.

She shook his hand free from her wrist with a vicious shake. A terrible, cruel, icy-cold smile twisted her lips, so sharp that it almost hurt Chrysi herself.

Gilbert flinched at the sight of it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Nightray” —her words ripped her throat into shreds, painful to an exponential degree, but she tried not to pay the truth behind the pain any mind— “I have somewhere else I need to be.”

It might’ve been the sound of his last name that shook him from his mystified stupor, or maybe the way her voice broke traitorously. She didn’t know. All she knew was that his brows knitted together and he drew himself up to his full height—When was he that tall? she thought, and with a pang, Chrysi thought of another man she’d once loved that was also painfully beautiful and obnoxiously tall—and with surprising strength, he said, “Where? Where else do you have to go?”

She didn’t expect his words to hurt so much.

Where did she have to go?

Nowhere.

But there was nothing for her here either.

She dropped her chin to her chest, her hand wrapping tightly around the familiar cold metal of her fae staff—so tightly that she could feel the edges of it etching into her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest, and that familiar burning sensation rested heavy in her throat. She tasted blood.

“Anywhere,” she spat, and the cruelty in her voice surprised even her. Her feet weren’t on the ground, she wasn’t in her body, and her mouth just kept on moving, moving, moving. “Anywhere but” —and she threw her hands out wide, gesturing about her wildly— “anywhere but here!”

Gilbert stumbled back a step, like she’d thrown him off balance. His hand reached forward for her, but he couldn’t manage to touch.

Chrysi took a couple steps of her own away from Gilbert.

Her head ached. Unless that ache was in her whole body. Unless that ache was in her heart.

I hate remembering.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

I hate remembering you.

“I can’t stay here, Gil.” The tearfulness of her voice startled her. Just what was she referring to? Hell if she knew, and she was the one speaking. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Gilbert sounded painfully confused, anguished almost. “You’re not making any sense.”

It really wasn’t funny. She felt not a shred of humor, not a hint of mirth—but she laughed. It was made up of knives’ edges and wicked thorns and bitter blood and it didn’t sound like her at all.

Her head spun.

“Of course it doesn’t make sense to you.” She threaded a shaking hand through her hair. Her gaze dropped to the uneven cobblestones beneath their feet, staring directly at the space between Gilbert’s boots. “You’ve never made any goddamn sense of me. You’ve never seen me.”

Why did that hurt so much?

Why did the truth she’d known this entire time hurt so much?

Those unwanted memories played in her head again and she almost screamed.

She didn’t want to see them. She hated that damn Chain for reopening old wounds, for reminding her of what she’d had.

“Chrysi…?”

“Who even are you?” she demanded. She didn’t look up. “Tell me honestly, Gil. Who are you? Because, to me, you’re a stranger now.”

Just now?

…No, not just now.

“You’ve always been a stranger,” she amended, and she hated how broken her words sounded.

Had she ever known Gilbert? Or was he always just outside of her reach, focused on somewhere else even when she clung to him? Even when they’d spoken, even when they’d kissed, even when he had held her while she struggled to sleep, Chrysi didn’t think she knew him in the slightest. He certainly didn’t know her.

He stared at her, his face long-since bone-white, his eyes wide. “Chrysi,” he tried again, but whatever words he tried to say next didn’t make a noise. Instead, he edged forward, almost cautiously, his hands coming up in a placating motion, or in a surrender, or—

Her fingertips were freezing.

Why was she wasting her time on him?

Have you ever truly considered it time wasted?

Her heart hitched unevenly. Nausea swept through her.

Seven hells….

She settled back on her heels, a direct motion opposite Gilbert’s—and maybe a little too much, her balance thrown off-center, but she teetered heel-to-toe anyway—and threw her head back to face the falling sky above her, icy droplets splashing over her face. A terrible cry left her, a sort of cackle that hurt her throat.

“Is any of this real?” Another agonizing laugh tripped up her breathing and the world twisted around her in terrible, terrible shapes.

Maybe that was just her, her balance no longer anchored to the earth by gravity. Her eyesight had gone blurry. Her lips were numb.

Maybe I’m the stranger.

Just like that, Chrysi let out a choked gasp and her knees buckled like that of a marionette with its strings cut. Blood bubbled up in her throat. The nausea from earlier shot through her like an arrow, but it tasted like poison and death. Her whole entire body trembled. Even her vision had turned black at the edges.

Her mind was so foggy that she didn’t realize she wasn’t lying on the ground in a puddle of icy rainwater until she noticed a large, warm, black coat being draped over her front. Even still, she shivered uncontrollably.

Who…?

Gilbert had somehow managed to close the gap between the two of them and now had her cradled carefully in his arms. He peered down at her with that same disturbed, white-faced expression,

She choked on her words, tripping unpleasantly over her tongue, but she still managed to cough out, “I don’t… even know who I am.” She shuddered as the blackness crept further across her vision. “I’m sorry.”

“Chrysi?”

He could only say her name.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, trying to quell the terror of her consciousness bleeding away.

Gilbert, even as confused as he was, even as terrified as he was, always said her name.

Chrysi struggled to think of the meaning behind that observation, to know why it made her feel that painful bittersweet sting, but her head was too fuzzy, and her mouth was full of her own blood, and she knew she wasn’t fully within her own body.

Better to just…

Chrysi’s head lolled back onto Gilbert’s shoulder and blackness took her once more.

***

The next time Chrysi awoke, she couldn’t help but wonder if this would turn into a pattern.

What was up with her passing out in the middle of all the action, only to wake up when it was all over? It was humiliating. Worse still when she didn’t even remember all the details.

She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling, a frown lacing her lips.

Chrysi was in a bed, bundled very carefully in a pile of blankets, and she had a lukewarm rag draped over her forehead, still a touch damp. Which meant she had probably suffered a fever. Which meant that if it had been high enough, she could’ve very well burned away countless memories that she could never get back.

That… wasn’t a comforting thought. Not in the slightest.

But before she could truly dwell on that concern, her cocoon of comfort was rudely interrupted.

“She’s awaaaaaake!” a voice cried, and suddenly the bed creaked under the fierce force crash-landing from only God knew where. “Finally!”

No need to guess who that was.

Chrysi twisted out of Alice’s blundering way with a sharp cry. “Careful, careful—”

—was what she meant to say.

But her throat was still too dry, and all that came out was a crackly cough.

“Careful, Alice!” another familiar voice reprimanded, and just as quickly as Alice had fallen upon the bed, she was snatched away. “Chrysi’s still recovering, you know! Just because she’s awake doesn’t mean she’s alright.”

Oz…

Chrysi rolled onto her side to face them, still too weak to push herself up. Sleepiness clung to her stubbornly.

She found Oz desperately trying to restrain Alice—a losing battle, but a valiant one nonetheless. In his overzealousness, it seemed he’d forgotten just how strong and utterly impossible Alice was.

It was…

… really, really funny.

A nice change of pace, she figured, especially after everything that had just gone down.

She cracked a weak smile and giggled. “You two are just as lively as ever, I see.”

Apparently that was all she needed to say to subdue Alice’s battle with Oz. She twisted her head up until she saw Chrysi curled up very comfortably in the bed.

“Of course we are!” Alice blustered. “We’ve got to be—otherwise people will think we’re weak!” She scowled furiously at Chrysi. “Who do you think you are, passing out in Seaweed Head’s arms? Now everyone’s going to think we’re easy game.”

It took Chrysi a second to realize that Alice was scolding her, and another second to realize that she was only scolding her because she was worried.

An inelegant laugh left her before she could stop it. Oz cocked his head to the side curiously.

She shifted around in her bed, the blankets rustling about her, until finally she managed to lift the edge of her comforter up. At both of their confused looks, she explained, “Well, come on. Get in here.”

After only a moment’s pause, Alice scrambled under the covers with Chrysi. Her skinny arms wrapped around Chrysi in a tight hug, like she was trying to convince herself that Chrysi was finally, truly okay.

Chrysi patted Alice’s head soothingly. Her smile died as Alice only hugged her tighter.

Coelhm. This fever must’ve been worse than normal.

Her eyes cut over to Oz—still standing at the edge of her bed, his hands clasped behind his back. He met her gaze with level eyes and, after a beat, he gave her a shy smile. “We’re both glad you’re okay,” was all he said.

Now she frowned.

Was I bleeding? Did my veins go gold? Did I say anything in my sleep? What happened?

All silent questions, yet all questions she knew Oz could understand. If not the complete meaning, at least the message itself.

He chose not to answer.

Instead, he crawled onto the bed to join the two of them. He, too, patted Alice’s head comfortingly.

Evidently, that was the last straw.

Alice began to sob.

“You weren’t waking up!” she cried into Chrysi’s shoulder. “We tried talking to you, but you didn’t move an inch. And Seaweed Head said that you were really sick and he didn’t know how to help you. But he should—”

Chrysi and Oz both jumped at the vitriol in Alice’s words, exchanging startled glances.

“—because he’s really good at that sort of stuff. So I told him he just didn’t care about you, and he got really mad at me, and—and—” She cut herself off, sniffling miserably. “I was scared.”

Silence rang after her proclamation, all the air sucked out of the room in milliseconds. It wasn’t like Alice to admit such a weakness. Not so openly.

And, well…

That was a whole story. Not complete with any details or anything, but enough for a rough outline at least. Alice wasn’t exactly known for her prowess with words. Or understanding. Or knowledge.

Chrysi shot Oz another questioning look.

“You were unconscious for a week,” he said, finally taking pity on her and answering her silent question.

“Ah. That would do it.” Chrysi stroked Alice’s hair, silent for a moment. The girl shuddered in her arms, but quickly fell silent—save for the occasional sniffle. Chrysi could feel the wet spot on her shoulder where Alice had sobbed. And also where she definitely wiped her snot.

Chrysi tried not to shudder at that thought. It was just mucus, but still…

She distracted herself by mulling over what Alice told her.

So she must’ve had a flare. A nasty one at that, if she’d been suffering from a fever for so long. But what really concerned her was the coma part—how long it lasted, for one, but also what had triggered it in the first place.

Maybe she could ask—

Her thoughts careened to a stop.

Ah. Right.

Memories from that night slowly began to trickle in finally, moving reluctantly to the forefront of her mind as if they had been caught doing something naughty and were ashamed.

The rain falling steadily from the sky. The way her head hurt. The words that just kept on jumping from her mouth before she even knew what she was going to say.

And—most importantly—the expression on Gilbert’s face going from concerned to completely freaked out.

She screwed her eyes shut.

Damn it…

She never meant for him to hear any of that. She’d hardly been in control of her thoughts at the time—cross a manic episode with some Chain interference, throw a dash of faetelle in, and what remained was a Chrysi that didn’t act like herself in the slightest.

Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it.

But at least it explained why Gilbert wasn’t here with Oz and Alice. He was probably out in the hallway, pacing and smoking, keeping an ear out to make sure nothing went to hell—but otherwise, he’d keep his distance.

Chrysi tried not to think about how much that hurt.

Absentmindedly, she began running her fingers through Alice’s hair in an attempt to calm herself down. Alice stiffened under her touch, then relaxed with a small sigh.

Oz and Chrysi shared an amused look.

Alice really was simple-minded at times. Chrysi envied her.

Her gaze flickered back downwards. Smiling faintly, she gently said, “I’m okay now. So you don’t need to worry too much about me.”

Alice scoffed, but it didn’t sound quite as arrogant as usual. “Well! Maybe you should avoid dying next time. I can't protect you all the time.”

Her smile grew. Awkward as Alice’s words were, her sentiments were often much more sweet than expected from the Bloody Black Rabbit.

“And when did you decide you needed to protect me?” Chrysi asked teasingly.

“When I decided Seaweed Head couldn’t! Which I should’ve decided sooner.” Her words had a bite to them.

The mention of Gilbert made Chrysi’s heart sink, but she tried to ignore it.

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment.” Itchiness spread over her in a wave of restlessness. With a groan, she stretched, trying to chase the feeling away.

Alice made a discontented noise as Chrysi accidentally dislodged her from her position.

“Sorry, sorry—it’s just that I haven’t moved in a week and my body hates me for it.”

A damn lie, and she knew it, and she knew that Oz knew it.

Oz simply laughed. “Oh, come on, Alice. We really should give Chrysi her space.”

Alice pouted, but at Oz’s increased insistence, she finally crawled out of the covers—though not without a lot of grumbling.

Once she’d been fully extricated, Alice jabbed a finger in Chrysi’s direction and uttered a final threatening “You’d better not get this sick ever again, okay?”

“Okay,” Chrysi agreed, amused. “I promise.”

A hollow promise, and it echoed like one throughout the room—but Alice didn’t notice as she scrambled for the door. Just like she didn’t notice that Oz and Chrysi had shared many a judgemental look over her head, and just like she didn’t notice that Oz hadn’t followed her into the hallway.

Chrysi stared at him silently for a moment, then sighed longsufferingly. No need to fake it around him—which was both relieving and infuriating at the same time. “What is it?”

“I know my valet’s useless and pathetic at times.” He said it plainly—an observation, as if commenting on the blueness of the sky. Or perhaps as a fact of the universe. Which it was.

He didn’t continue.

And even though she didn’t want to, Chrysi gave Oz an entertained look. Leave it to Oz to know just what to say.

“Well, he can’t control it,” she agreed quietly.

Oz nodded vigorously. “He really can’t.” He paused, then sighed. “It doesn’t help that he doesn’t know the… effects of his actions, I’d say. Or the effects he has on other people.”

Hm. The way he said that definitely had a hint of mischievous knowing.

Suddenly, Chrysi wanted to whack Oz over the head with a pillow. Maybe something harder.

Did he know that she and Gil…?

He is fifteen, and if he kisses anybody like Gil kissed me, he is going to be in so much damn trouble.

Rather than continue pressing the point, Oz simply ended his reassurances with handing Chrysi a plate.

Baffled, she blinked up at him, then down to the plate in her hands.

It was a slice of cake. The kind that had her favorite frosting, with bits of pineapple laced throughout it. She didn’t know how Oz knew…

Oh.

Oh, no.

No, he wouldn’t have…

She didn’t know why the thought made her heart take a nosedive into the depths of nothingness.

“Isn't Gil a little bit more of a stickler on eating healthy after being sick?” she asked flatly. Chrysi truly doubted he would’ve made this for her willingly.

Oz shrugged. “Normally, maybe. But I ordered him to and he doesn’t have it in him to disobey me, so…” He gave her a mischievous smile.

Chrysi just stared at him.

That was really very sweet of Oz.

Very… sweet…

…No, she really didn’t have anything against him. She cared for him a lot—like the little brother she’d never had, but sometimes twice as annoying as she wanted—and it was obvious he cared about everyone else around him.

It was just that he didn’t realize just how much it hurt to know that Gilbert had only made it because Oz had ordered him to.

Chrysi smiled a weak smile. “...Thanks, Oz.”

Because that’s who she had to thank. Not the guy who hadn’t checked in on her at all, not the guy that didn’t have a damn thing to say to her, not the guy who only extended a careful olive branch when his master demanded it.

She wasn’t quite so good at hiding her true emotions right now. Maybe because she was exhausted by it anyway. Maybe because the only person that could beat it into Gilbert’s head stood right there in front of her. Maybe because she just wanted to let this poison out of her somehow, even though it hurt her to.

But any way she looked at it, all she knew was that it made Oz’s smile falter. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Clearly, he was searching for the proper words.

Finally, he slowly said, “For the record, I know Gil loves you. He’s just dense and he likes to run away.” He fell silent, staring at his shoes. After a moment, he looked back up and shrugged. “It’s up to you to decide if he’s worth it.”

She didn’t answer him.

Chrysi just stared at the cake in her hands—and continued to stare even after the door clicked shut behind Oz, even after his footsteps joined with Alice’s and they walked away, even after the light began to fail and she had to strain her eyes to make out the shape in her hands.

… Maybe Gilbert was worth it.

Maybe.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Chrysi put the untouched cake on her bedside table and fell back in her bed with a groan. Her whole body ached dully.

He didn’t even visit me once.

She turned her back on the cake and fell asleep once more.

#w.mine #s.chrysigil #p.chains #alice is chrysi's little sister confirmed!!!!!!!!!!#i jst think it's rlly cute how alice likes to have her head patted--so i decided chrysi likes to run her fingers through it #they're all rlly sweet as a family ;;;;;;#barring the fact that gilbert's not all it right now kdsfjghldkfjlskdj

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staranon95 · 3 years

Text

not so baby driver

a red hood au drabble

“Lindsay, I know you think being an Uber driver is a lot of fun, but I am begging you. Please come home. We’ve got shit to talk about!”

“Sorry, Michael. I’m on the clock until at least 11. Which is prime bar hopping time.”

“We need to find Red and you’re still going on and being a fucking taxi.”

“Uber contractor, please”

At the sound of Michael groaning, Lindsay laughs.

“Just keep your ear to the ground.”

“Oh, will do.” She ends the call and gets her phone set up for her shift tonight.

Lindsay like driving. It’s peaceful in some regards and adrenaline pumping in others—depending on what she’ splaying as the night she finds herself behind the wheel. Is she going to play Uber? Or is she the getaway driver?

She started driving for Uber a year ago, only on the side and only casually. Two nights a week. That’s the way she likes to keep it. It gives her a break from her otherwise hectic life, following leads, driving the crew from Point A to Point B, listening to the police scanner for any juicy gossip. It’s a good schedule to keep, and she likes being an Uber driver. Some of her passengers are chatty and that sometimes makes for good intel depending on the person. But for the most part it’s just college kids she’s driving around. Another chunk are people from the airports, looking for a hotel to live in for a few days or looking to get home and sleep off the jet lag. There’s a lot she can learn from this job, about this city and its people despite the years she’s lived and worked here.

The first part of her shift goes by smoothly. Nothing big to report or be concerned about. It’s around ten that she gets an interesting visitor. She gets the ping when she enters the downtown area. The part that a lot of politicians say they’ll clean up but never do. The part that avoids being gentrified because so much goes on here. Lindsay has spent a lot of time here, especially in the early days of the crew.

Her passenger is standing on the side of the street, leaning against a lamppost as she pulls up. He has a red hoodie pulled up over his head, so she can’t get a good look at his face. But he comes in and sits very stiffly on the backseat of her car. He keeps one arm firmly fixed around his torso, and he’s quiet when he comes in—doesn’t offer a ‘hi’ or other greeting. Which is fine. Lindsay can deal with rude people. There’s a reason why she can rate her passengers.

“So, where are we headed today,” she says. She brings up the route on her phone and it looks like he wants to be taken to a residential side of town.

“Just taking me home,” he says. But his voice sounds weak and strained, and Lindsay become increasingly concerned about the arm he keeps pinned to his torso.

“Sure thing.”

She pulls onto the road, sparing as many glances as she can to the man in her back seat. She has a feeling in her gut that this is probably Red. It’s too big of a coincidence. The red hoodie obviously gives it away. But she wonders if Red recognizes her or not. She’ll try to play this cool.

She waits for an opening to even bring up how bad Red looks right now. When she makes a right-hand turn, she gets a groan from him as he tries to hold himself still.

“You know,” she starts. “If you need to go to the hospital, I can easily change the destination.”

Red doesn’t respond.

“Or, if hospitals aren’t your scene, I know some clinics that are off the books, cash places.”

“Don’t need it,” Red says gruffly. “Just drive me home.”

“Okay.”

She’s quiet for one block before speaking up again. “Broken arm or broken ribs? Or both?”

Red says nothing.

“I get it, man. A lot of sketchy shit goes on in this town. But from experience, trying to be your own doctor isn’t a good idea.”

“You know, I didn’t pay for the advice when I got in this car.”

“I’m just saying. I’ve been where you are. I’m discreet, man. No judgement here. I got some good clinics in mind if you’re looking for one.”

Red must be in a lot of pain because he goes quiet. He’s thinking about it. And then he says, “Who did you have in mind?”

“Well, I know a residency doctor who sees patients on the side for a little extra cash. She’s actually really cool about these sorts of things, so she won’t go narcing on you.”

“Fine,” Red says. “Just get me there.”

Lindsay takes the time at a red light to change the destination so she doesn’t get asked why she didn’t bring her customer to their desired stop. Keeping everything official.

She’s known Kdin for a few years now—since they were college roommates and took different turns in life. Kdin is nearing the end of her residency, but she’s thinking of opening her own clinic. One of the types that will see you no matter what. She’s good in a pinch if you need some stitches, and the Fakes have always been solid customers of her.

Lindsay parks the car along the side of the road, next to a long row of semi-detached houses. “All right. I’m going to go up to her and explain the situation, and then we’ll get you up there, okay?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Lindsay gets out and jogs up to the door. She holds down the doorbell for a solid second. It’s not too late. She shouldn’t be disturbing anyone at this hour.

Kdin opens the door, looking dressed down and ready to either game until three in the morning or crash on the bed. “Lindsay! What a nice surprise. What brings you to my neighbourhood?” She looks over Lindsay’s shoulder to her car, rightfully so since Lindsay is usually the one bringing the injured to her.

“Well, three guesses—”

“Is it Michael this time?”

“What? No, no. He’s much less reckless these days. Um, I was just doing my routes, you know, and I get this customer. I don’t know how bad it is, but he looked like he needed a place to get looked at.”

“Okay. Cryptic, but I get it.”

“Okay. I’ll go bring him in.”

“Sure thing. Uh, can he pay?”

“If not, I’ll foot the bill.”

“You’re too good for this city, Lindsay.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to be now that Geoff is retired.”

Lindsay turns back to her car and opens the back door nearest to Red. “Okay. Kdin’s good to see you. You need help or?”

Red resolutely slides himself out of the car, twists slowly to get his feet on the sidewalk and then use his good arm to pull himself out. He seems reluctant to receive help at all. He tries to stand up straight, probably to relieve the pressure on his ribs, but he still walks in that hunched gait Lindsay has seen far too many times.

They walk up the few steps to Kdin’s door, and Lindsay leads Red in. One of Kdin’s bedrooms has been transformed into a makeshift examination room. She’s already in there, still dressed in her PJs, pulling on some latex gloves.

“All right,” she says. “What seems to be the problem?”

Lindsay pulls back, allowing Red to have some privacy before she turns the corner and heads to the front of the house. She pulls out her phone and dials for Michael.

“You’re on speaker,” is his initial response.

“Oh, hey. Anyone else there with you?”

“Yeah, Jeremy and Gavin. What’s up?”

She hears Gavin in the background. “Hi, Lindsay!”

“Uh, well, you’re never going to believe who I just picked up.”

“It better not be some washed up Disney child actor again,” Jeremy says.

“No, no,” she says, keeping her voice low. “It’s Red. You know, the guy we’re looking for?”

“You serious?” Michael says.

“Yeah. He was pretty beat up, too, so I’m at Kdin’s right now. I think you guys better get here.”

#fake ah crew #fahc #gta au #star speaks #star writes #red hood au #finally! we have some lindsay on the scene

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qqueenofhades · 5 years

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Question for you. When you have time. And if you want. I know things are busy for you. What do you mean by end stage capitalism? Thanks.

Aha. I am sorry that this has been sitting in my inbox for a while, since I’ve been busy and doing stressful things and not sure how to answer this in a way that wouldn’t immediately turn into a pages-long rant. Nothing to do with you, of course, but just because I have 800 things to say on this topic, none of them complimentary, which I’ll try to condense down briefly. Ish.

In sum, end-stage capitalism is at the root of everything that’s wrong with the world today, more or less. It’s the state of being that exists when the economic system of capitalism, i.e. the exchange of money for goods and services, has become so runaway, so unregulated, so elevated to the level of unchallengeable dogma in the Western world (especially after the Cold War and decades of hysteria about the “scourge of communism”) and so embedded on every level of the social and political fabric that it is no longer sustainable but also can’t be destroyed without taking everything else down. Nobody wants to be the actual generation that lives through the fall of capitalism, because it’s going to be cataclysmic on every level, but also… we can’t go on like this. So that’s a fun paradox. The current world order is so drastically, unimaginably, ridiculously and wildly unequal, privileging the tiny elite of the ultra-rich over the rest of the planet, because of hypercapitalism. This really got going in the early 1980s when Ronald Reagan, still generally worshiped as a political hero on both the left and right sides of the American political establishment (even liberals tiptoe around criticizing Saint Ronnie), set into motion a program of slashing business and environment regulations, reducing or eliminating taxes on the super wealthy, and introducing the concept of “trickle-down” or “supply-side” economics. In short, the principle holds that if you make it as easy as possible for rich people to become EVEN MORE RICH, and remove all irksome regulations or restrictions on the Church of the Free Market, they will benevolently redistribute this largess to the little people. To say the very least, this….does not happen. Ever.

Since the 1980s, in short, we have had thirty years of unrestricted, runaway capitalism that eventually propelled us into the financial crisis of 2008, after multiple smaller crises, where the full extent of this philosophy became apparent…. and nobody really did anything about it. You can google statistics about how the price of everything has skyrocketed since about the 1970s, when you could put yourself through college on one part-time job, graduate with no student debt, and be assured of a job for the next 30 years, and how baby boomers (who are responsible for wrecking the economy) insist that millennials are “just lazy” or “killing [insert x industry]”. This is because we have NO GODDAMN MONEY, graduate thousands or hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt (if we can even afford college in the first place), are lucky if we find a job that pays us more than $10 an hour, and often have to string together several part-time and frangible jobs that offer absolutely nothing in the way of security, benefits, or long-term saving potential. This is why millennials at large don’t have kids, buy houses, or have any savings (or any of the traditional “adult” milestones). We just don’t have the money for it.

Even more, capitalism has taken over our mindsets to the point where it is, as I said, at the root of everything that’s wrong with the world. Climate change? Won’t be fixed because the ruling classes are making money from the current system, and if you really want to give yourself an aneurysm, google the profiteers who can’t wait for the environment/society to collapse because they’ll make MORE money off it. This is known as “disaster capitalism” and is what the US has done to other countries for decades. (I also recommend The Shock Doctrine by Naomi Klein.) This obviously directly contributes to the War on Terror, the current global instability, the reason Dick Cheney, Halliburton, Blackwater, and other private-security contractors made a mint from blowing up Iraq and paying themselves to rebuild it, and then the resultant rise of al-Qaeda, ISIS, and other extremist reactionary groups. The bombing produces (often brown and Muslim) refugees and immigrants, Western countries won’t take them in, right-wing politicians make hay out of Threats To Our Way of Life ™, and the circle goes on. Gun control? Can’t happen because a) American white supremacy is too deeply tied to its paranoid right to have as many guns as it wants and to destroy the Other at any time, and b) the NRA pays senators by the gigabucks to make sure it doesn’t. (And we all know what an absolute goddamn CLUSTERFUCK the topic of big money and American politics is in the first place. It’s just… a nightmare in every direction.)

Meanwhile, end-stage capitalism has also systematically assigned value to society and to individuals depending entirely on their prospects for monetization. Someone who can’t work, or who doesn’t work the “right” job, is thus assigned less value as a human (see all the right-wing screaming about people who “don’t deserve” to have any kind of social and financial assistance or subsidized food and medicine if they won’t “help themselves”). This is how we get to situations where we have the ads that I kept seeing in London the other month: apps where you could share your leftover food, or rent out your own car, or collectively rent an apartment, or whatever else. Because apparently if you live in London in 2019, there is no expectation that you will be able to have your own food, car, or apartment. You have to crowdsource it. (See also: people having to beg strangers on the internet for money for food or medical bills, and strangers on the internet doing more to help that person than the whole system and/or the person’s employment or living situation.) There is nothing inherently wrong with capitalism as an economic theory. Exchanging money for goods and services is understandable and it works. But when it has run out of control to this degree, when the people who suffer the most under it fiercely defend it (see the working-class white people absolutely convinced that the reason for their problems is Those Damn Job Stealing Immigrants), when it only works for the interests of a few uber-privileged few and is actively killing everyone else… yeah.

Let’s put it this way. You will likely have heard of the two fatal crashes of Boeing 737 Max airplanes in recent months: the Lion Air crash in October 2018 and the Ethiopian Airlines crash in March 2019. Together, they killed 346 people. After these crashes, it turned out that the same malfunctioning system was responsible for both, and that Boeing had known of the problem before the Max went on the market. But because they needed to make (even more) money and compete with their rivals, Airbus, they had sent the planes ahead anyway, with unclear and confusing instruction to pilots about how to deal with it, and generally not acknowledging the problem and insisting (as they still do) that the plane was safe, even though it’s been grounded worldwide since March. There are also concerns that the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) is too deep in Boeing’s pocket to provide an impartial ruling (and America was the last country to ground the plane), and other countries’ aviation safety bodies have announced that they aren’t just going to take the FAA’s word for it whenever they decide that the Max is safe. This almost never happens, since usually international regulatory bodies, especially in aviation, will accept each other’s standards. But because of Boeing’s need for Even More Money, they put a plane on the market and into commercial passenger service that they knew had problems, and the FAA essentially let them do that and isn’t entirely trusted to ensure that they won’t do it again. Because…. value for the shareholders. Or something. This is the extreme example of what I mean when I say that end-stage capitalism is actively killing people.

It is also doing so on longer-term and more pernicious everyday levels. See above where people can’t afford their basic expenses even on several jobs, see the insulin price-gouging in the US (and the big pharma efforts in general to make drugs and healthcare as expensive as possible), see the way any kind of welfare or social assistance is framed as “lazy” or “bad” or “socialist,” see the way that people are basically only allowed to survive if they can pay for it, and the way that circle is becoming smaller and smaller. The American public is also fed enduring folk “wisdom” about “money doesn’t buy happiness,” the belief that poverty serves to build character or as an example of virtue, or so on, to make them feel proud of being poor/deprived/that they’re doing a good thing by actively supporting this system that is responsible for their own suffering. And yet for example, the Nordic countries (while obviously having other problems of their own) maintain the Scandinavian welfare model, which pays for college and healthcare, provides for individual stipends/basic income, allows generous leave for parenthood, emphasises a unionised workplace, and otherwise prescribes a mix of capitalism, social democracy, and social mobility. All the Nordic countries rank highly for human development, overall happiness, and other measurements of social success. But especially in America, any suggestion of “socialism” is treated like heresy, and unions are a dirty word. That is changing, but…slowly.

In short: the economic overlords have never done anything to give power, money, or anything at all to the working class without being repeatedly and explicitly forced, they have no good will or desire to treat the poor like humans (see: Amazon) or anything at all that doesn’t increase their already incomprehensible profit margins. The pursuit of more money that cannot possibly be spent in one human lifetime, that is accumulated, used to make laws for itself, and never paid in taxes to fund improvements or services for everyone else, lies at the root of pretty much every problem you can name in the world right now, is deeply, deeply evil, and I do not use that word lightly.

#politics for ts #rant #long post #that...wasn't super brief #but i could have gone on for a while longer #/drinks heavily and passes out #anonymous #ask

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arquitetosaopaulo · 3 years

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How To Select A Contractor For Your Architectural Project And What NOT To Do

I'm sure you have actually heard the age-old dispute of the designer and professional not managing. Today's culture is moving in the direction of interdisciplinary professions, as well as people are obtaining significantly much better at the workplace with each other, slowly relieving this problem. A lot more design/build companies (where the specialists as well as architects are both benefiting the exact same company) have started to emerge, yet not every one of the perceived benefits are really valuable. One common claim made by design develop companies is that architects don't understand how to build, as well as having in-house service providers eases the lots of issues that arise because of this. First, we have the extremely apparent answer that you can not repaint the entire profession with a broad brush stroke. Do I require to remind you to pick an architect with actual experience? No? Excellent. Second, if you were to for a short time entertain that all engineers don't understand how things go together, the claim that service providers are pertaining to the rescue would hold true, despite whether the two line of work become part of one business or separate companies. I have actually recognized both architects and contractors that have actually owned design/build companies that returned to their corresponding edges. WHY? They couldn't do both the style and also building and construction well, AND pay at the exact same time. Bottom line right here: paying attention? The reality is, in our swiftly changing world, it is tough sufficient to be good at one kind of organization, let alone two. When you have actually the added concern of worrying yourself with both professions AND paying, the client will always shed. It is an inherent dispute of passion. Component of our task as your engineer is to safeguard your interests. We are your advocate and create an agreement collection of papers (your building illustrations are really properly called "contract records") to show your dreams, with which you agree on a cost with a professional. If the person writing your agreement and also the person executing it are under one roofing system, it would certainly resemble permitting your insurance provider to figure out which medicine you take ... Oh wait ... they do. I like that. Do not you?

An excellent service provider is worth his or her king's ransom. It takes years of experience and also a creative, yet practical thinker, to visualize challenges boiling down the pipe, and also act appropriately among the many professions as well as details involved. I have miraculous regard forever service providers and also take pleasure in dealing with them. When choosing a contractor, you should call around and also chat briefly with as lots of as you can to get a feel for their individuality as well as the globe in which you are about to embark. I make sure you've discovered some arbitrary short articles online like, "The 5 questions you require to ask professionals", or "The 3 things you need to look out for when picking a specialist". If not, you should go discover some, as there are numerous them, and a lot of them are valuable. I wish to focus on another thing below.

There are a vast array of professionals that will give you with a lovely array of quotes for the same amount of work, and you need to know exactly how to make sense of all of it. Take a go back as well as consider the big picture. You have your low, medium and also high contractors to select from. You require to begin by asking on your own what degree of service you are expecting. If you want super creative, one-of-a-kind, customized information, built with the highest degree of craftsmanship, don't anticipate the reduced to tool priced contractors to do it. I'm presuming a number of them could, if given endless time and budget plan, however their low or medium valued estimate suggests that isn't what they are planning for your project. If you are just trying to find an uncomplicated as well as comfortable house needing less specific talents, after that perhaps you do want to deal with a service provider that costs less, yet take into consideration the complying with. Most professionals acquire their materials from the same places as well as make use of similar sub-contractors that, in order to be competitive, need to bill affordable (i.e. comparable) prices. Consequently, many times the reason Professional A's price quote is so much lower than Specialist B's and also C's isn't since they have the within track on extremely affordable labor as well as products, right? And also if they did, my guess is they would certainly still bill you the going rate and also maintain the revenue on their own. Provided, I'm sure some individuals are much better at the office at a more fast rate than others, but probably it will take the exact same amount of time to frame your kitchen no matter that does it. Taking all of that into factor to consider, it comes to be clear that your project is going to set you back a certain price no matter who does it. The differences is whether you will certainly learn about the added prices beforehand (in an in-depth estimate) or after the truth (via change orders). I am not indicating that low-priced professionals are being unethical. They are human. Everyone suches as to tell individuals what they intend to hear, as well as everyone suches as to earn a profit. Find more info Arquiteto São Paulo

Nevertheless, if you are a numbers kind of individual, one of the only black and white numbers you can quickly compare is how much each service provider increases his or her services and products. I have actually seen percentages varying from 10-20%, as well as you can typically locate this in a lump sum plainly defined at the end of the price quote. Beyond that, the demonstration still needs to be transported away, the coatings still require to be added, and also the structure still needs to be confined. If one quote consists of demo yet doesn't include the carrying as well as discard charges, creating a visibly cheaper estimate, do you believe that the contractor is just going to turn the expense for that out of his or her very own goodwill? No, you will. Surprise! Don't pick your contractor based upon that has the lowest quote, as many times all it means is that it is doing not have points the other service providers have actually included.

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lennythereviewer · 5 years

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A word from your local GrubHub/DoorDash/PostMates driver

I’m a Grubhub driver here, here’s a few things that will make both you the customer happier and me the driver happier 1. DO NOT ORDER DRINKS

Listen, if there is one thing we Grubhub/Postmates/DoorDash drivers hate the most its getting drink orders.It’s one more thing to juggle and this one is decidedly more fragile than the meal; they can spill (In a recent experience I had to deliver four sodas from KFC in the middle of a rainstorm, and the drink holder disintegrated) Trying balance 5 drink orders in a car with only two cupholders is not making any of our lives easier. Now if it’s like, a smoothie place where the whole POINT is the drinks; I get that. But if you can avoid it, please for the love of god don’t order drinks. Just drink something at home. Without drinks to balance we can get the food to you quicker.

2. Want your food faster? Tip us on the app

Don’t get me wrong; we LOVE cash tips! The thing is though that GH base pay is kinda shit. When you tip us on the app it adds to the total GH pay and that’s the total we see when the offer comes through on our end Example: You wanna order in some Taco Bell. You’re planning to pay us say a six dollar tip in cash. That’s awesome! But when we get the offer on our end it looks like “Make 4 dollars to deliver this persons tacos”; and a lot of GH drivers ignore very low paying offers; we’re paying for gas, we need to at least break even. Even though we drivers work for a big company we’re basically independent contractors and we can choose to not take an offer that comes out way... our companies love to punish us for being picky, but we have the right to refuse

Now, play this same scenario again but this time you tip us on the app, and to us that looks like “Make 10 dollars to deliver this persons tacos” Now THATS more like it! Your offer will be picked up extremely fast and therefore you get your food quicker! Side note: If you ARE going to tip us in cash, please specify this and let us know ahead of time in the notes section, like, where you would put instructions for the driver coming up to your place

3. Double Check the address of the place you’re ordering from

I work in an area that’s spread across four towns (Ormond Beach, Daytona Beach, Port Orange, and New Smyrna Beach specifically) and I can’t tell you how many times someone will order something unassuming like KFC but they’ll accidentally order it from a restaurant TWO TOWNS OVER when there’s already one in their town Sure, I may get paid more for the distance; but there’s kind of a point where you have to ask if it’s worth it or not. It’s more wear and tear on my car and it’s more time for you the customer has to wait to receive your food Make sure the place you’re ordering from is the correct address to save you money and time, and save us trouble

4. KEEP YOUR PHONE HANDY AND BE AVAILABLE

Sometimes we the driver need to reach you (Gate we can’t get past, apartment building we can’t find, 30-50 feral hogs have surrounded our car...) and if we can’t get ahold of you that’s more problems for both of us. If you don’t answer the door and you’re unreachable after multiple attempts, we’re stuck holding the bag. We gotta call up our driver support system, and if THEY can’t get ahold of you themselves, then they tell us “Screw it, keep the food, go to your next delivery”

NEITHER of us wants that: You don’t get your food, and we’re stuck with extra shit in our car while we have to go deliver more food. The idea of free food is killer for sure, but it’s one more thing we have to deal with/dispose of, and calling up the driver support system is a hassle in and of itself, ask ANY driver. Like, sure, I may have gotten free food from someone elses neglect; but what am I going to do with a family-sized KFC meal that there’s no way I can possibly eat on my own, and there’s no one homeless around to give it too? I can’t just throw out perfectly good food and you see what I mean? Be available and have your phone nearby! Your dinner may depend on it

Keep all of this in mind when ordering your meal and things will be much smoother for you, I promise

#Grubhub #postmates #post mates #doordash #door dash #Grub Hub #Delivery #Food #Taco Bell #KFC #feral hogs

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irwinconsulting · 4 years

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Uncomplicated Action Steps to a Successful Start in Real Estate Investing

If however you watch cable or satellite television on the weekends, you can find in between 20 and 30 channels early in the day with get unique quick infomercials hawking everything from books, tapes, seminars including personal coaching services. Most are centered around real estate not to mention I am not sure they are worth the time it would take you to definitely order them by phone. I have spent thousands of dollars in real estate home study courses through the years and will continue towards the future. I am always looking to further my education and also understanding of what is really working in the investment real estate universe. Because of the time, energy and dollars that I have expended in the past, I have a pretty good idea of what a real estate real estate investor wants to avoid as well as the best steps to take for a thriving start. Education definitely plays a role in the success of a properties investor as well as business savvy, attitude and at times, chances! Here are a few detailed steps that an investor can take to improve the likelyhood for success. - Learn the basics of real estate as a rule. As with any investment strategy or business, real estate goes along with its' very own lingo. There are terms and phrases that numerous of us have heard in the past, yet may not know the complete meaning. It is very important from the get go to do the research and find out the basics such as the meaning of the terms and phrases which have been used in the real estate industry every day. You can start by using a search results and searching the phrase "real estate definitions". - Begin home study education. There are great benefits to make sure you home study and I do not mean the training we eluded to on weekend cable T. Versus. At your local library, in the real estate investing section, there'll be multiple titles recently written by authors with experience of their topic. Check out as many titles as you can read in a few days and o to work reading. Write down sentences and matters that come up in the books that interest you and also fit into your reasoning for starting to invest in real estate. This is the start of your plan for getting started. - Develop a game plan. Through this point, you have an idea of the general terms and terms for the property investing world and have begun to grow the interest and understanding of the specific strategies for real estate investing. It will be time to formally develop your plan and start taking steps. Each of the real estate investing books that you will be reading give precise advice about team building. It is a crucial step for your achieving success and the best books offer advice about who to place on your team, where to find them and how important there're to your over-all success. Before you can start investing, you must have a thought for where you are going and how you are going to get there. : Join local organizations for investors. In every city, local and state there are multiple organizations whose missions will be to assist real estate investors. Each of these organizations holds monthly birthdays and some of the best even hold weekly meetings, where buyers can network and learn. These meetings are crucial towards a beginner investor because they offer the opportunity to build your party with experienced members. They also are fantastic groups to attend for tips, tricks and education. Join a group in your area and make your attendance mandatory. Attend as many group meetings as possible each month. Often times, the simple step of surrounding your body with like-minded individuals who are positive and re-enforce your resolve to succeed, can have the biggest benefit on your future success. -- Find partners & Do not fall for get high quick! One mistake that is easy to make in the beginning will be to set off on the path of "go it alone". A second is to believe that just around the corner is a pot of gold only can just find a deal like those guys regarding T. V.! One thing that is seldom talked about is the news that most real estate investors have used partnerships in the past if they usually are not using them now. Partnerships are a great way to spread danger of investing while learning the ropes. Those negative aspects include using less of your available capital, credit plus time. Partnerships can also be structured to be a simple 50/50 collaboration splitting all costs and profits or a slightly more difficult partnership with one partner providing money and the other sorts of providing the deals, follow through and managing the ventures. Either way, going it alone can be a lonely, long as well as expensive way to get started investing. - Do not quit your entire day job! This is a biggie and is a MAJOR mistake made by numerous first time real estate investors. Investing in real estate requires a total devotion - a "burning of the boats" mentality. There is no converting back when you decide to go all in. And in that record lies the problem with leaving your day job first. Make time to develop your team, to build cash reserves, to learn typically the ropes. Take time to make small mistakes before you leave your own full time employment and make a big mistake! Investing in realty is a big picture endeavor and as an investor you have to be able to clearly see your future and plan correctly. These last two tips really go to the heart regarding why some investors not only fail, but fail totally. Many times you can overcome the mistakes with the first very few tips here by perseverance and a little luck. Any time you make one of the following two mistakes, they can quickly rest a new investor and sour the experience for a good very long time. Then again, if you follow all the previous tips, chances are you may have the team around you to guide you right past all these last two tips and onto smooth investing. - Once started, DO NOT under estimate repairs. When you are estimating the repairs to a property for investment, unless you own an experienced contractor and trusted advisor on your team, you possibly can miss the mark wildly. Even the best home research courses are not able to provide you with an accurate ability to estimate costs. You will need experience and time before you can accurately guesstimate repair rates. Missing the mark on estimated repairs can quickly burst a bank account and take a property from profitable for you to money pit quickly! - Do not purchase investment building for equity or appreciation There is no bigger mistake the real estate investor can make today than to purchase property now for the equity holding or future appreciation. Long-term investing in these days is centered around the ability of a property to perform along with a positive monthly cash flow. In my home city for shelling out, Memphis, real estate investors purchase properties at extreme discount rates, but over look those discounts if the property won't provide a high enough monthly cash flow. Equity and expected values of future home values are not good reasons to purchase investment decision property. Many individuals will purchase their first investment place in 2010. Some will view their purchase as only an investment and others will look for real estate to provide the latest profession. Either way, it is extremely important that first-time investors search out all of the help, advice and experience they can get as a result of other investors.

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avengerscompound · 5 years

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The Tower - Chapter 28

The Tower: An Avengers Fanfic

Chapter 28

Series Masterlist

Chapters: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen / fourteen / fifteen / sixteen / seventeen / eighteen / nineteen / twenty / twenty-one / twenty-two / twenty-three / twenty-four / twenty-five / twenty-six / twenty-seven / twenty-eight

Word Count: 6000

Warnings: smut (Bisexual orgy. There’s a bunch of stuff that happens. There’s like 10 people involved).

Synopsis: The group return home and the healing begins. Elly makes a new friend. Goodbyes are said

Author’s Note: Co-written with @fanficwriter013

Chapter 28 - Home

So much happened over the next few months. Alexa was sent to the Raft awaiting trial for her long list of crimes. The cancer took her before it ever happened. The rest of the people who were working for Medusa were processed. Many were sent to prison for varying sentences. I had to testify to the things I saw. As did everyone else.

Scott went back to LA as soon as the debrief was finished. He missed his daughter too much, which was understandable. Hill and Rhodey both stuck around to help with the sorting out of the tower and working out who we could trust and who we couldn’t. Coulson’s team even stopped in every once in a while to help day to day operations when they weren’t busy with other things.

It took Wanda about a month to recover from her injuries. She was very needy the entire time. It was to be expected and all of us were happy to spend time with her. Truthfully, we all were to different extents. When she was being confined to medbay there was always at least one person with her. We ended up pushing a second hospital bed up with hers. In the end, she was pretty much constantly snuggled up with one of us. When she was allowed out of bed, she still wasn’t allowed to work for a while, but she was much happier. Emotionally she seemed to bounce back pretty quickly really. Or maybe this was just a struggle she’d gotten used to and she’d just returned to the woman I knew who was already dealing with being hurt by HYDRA.

Clint was generally pretty okay. They’d taken him to try and get Wanda and Bucky to comply but he can take a beating better than most and they’d ended up giving up and leaving him alone. He was also quite needy though. He was never not with someone else. Usually Nat but it was quite common to find him snuggling in the hospital bed with Wanda too.

Bucky physically recovered very quickly but he did have quite the emotional backslide. He didn’t talk a lot and he flinched when anyone other than Steve or Sam went too close to him. His nightmares returned too. He and I were both referred to Wanda’s therapist. He was actually a full agent and the head of the whole department and organized therapists and psychologists for everyone in the whole tower. Because he was Wanda’s we knew he was one of the good guys because she’d gotten to see right into his mind on a weekly basis. His name was Jax and he was a miracle worker. After a week of seeing Jax every day Bucky started to seek other people out. He gradually started trusting them to touch him again, even though you couldn’t do it unless he asked to begin with. After a month he was back to liking to sit and have his hair played with. Two months and his nightmares were lessened to the point that as long as Steve was there he was okay having other people in bed with them.

With me, Jax was just perfect. I can’t even begin to tell you how good I was feeling about myself after each session. He had me journalling. He helped me with meditation techniques and coping mechanisms related to my past, the kidnapping and this recent incident. He pinpointed key problems with my behavior and the behavior of the others that was causing me problems. There was just so much he got about me and the situation I was in. Even after what happened I was feeling better about myself than I had in a long time. Since ever really.

Also, it was because of him I met my best platonic friend in the whole world. Her name was Clarke and she and Jax had been living with each other since before the fall of SHIELD. It was a pure accident we met. I was in his waiting room with a woman. I had seen her around the building, she was not exactly easy to miss. She was slight, with strawberry blonde hair and violet eyes, a result of a condition known as Alexandra Genesis. When I first sat down I was a little confused as to why she was there and when I said hello to ask her if I’d made a mistake about my appointment time she nearly bit my head off.

“What do you want?” She hissed at me.

“Uh… to see my therapist?” I said as a question more than a statement.

She shook her head. “Sorry. I just…” She waved her hands around. “I have trust issues. People are always…”

“Because of the eyes?” I asked. “They want to collect you right?”

She narrowed her eyes at me and looked me up and down. “Something like that.” She said relaxing. “You’re dating Tony Stark right?”

“Yep, and that’s why people want to collect me.” I half-joked.

She laughed. “And you work in the labs too. I’ve seen you in there with Doctor Banner.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m a biologist. You’re an agent?”

“Yep. But I also am a bit of a lab squirrel too. I.T. though. I helped fix the code in FRIDAY.” She answered.

“Oh my god! Thank you! I missed her so much.” I said. We then just started getting nerdier and nerdier as we talked. I completely forgot I was waiting for Jax and he came out and looked at both of us with the biggest smile on his face. He then organized to have her sign an NDA and have Wanda clear her. All of a sudden, I had this friend that I not only just loved being around, but I could tell anything I wanted to. She was so chill about me being poly. She and Jax were open, so she totally got it. She made jokes about me being superhero catnip and she’d rank them in how much she wanted to sleep with them. Which I know sounds awful, but I loved it. She got me and she didn’t treat me like something precious, or suck up to me. She gave me shit and got me out of my head. She was exactly what I needed to make me finally be completely okay with the relationship. Because the thing is, not being able to tell anyone about your relationship is hard. I had struggled with it despite understanding why it was the way it was.

During the few months we were getting ourselves back together as a group we were fairly unwilling to ever leave each other alone. At night the sofa bed in the common room was pulled out a lot because we all just wanted to sleep in big puppy piles. If it wasn’t the sofa bed it was in my apartment where the bed was big enough to fit everyone. It wasn’t even sex. In fact, there wasn’t a lot of that in the first month back in the tower at all compared to before. It still happened but not everyone was emotionally there yet. We just needed each other to be near.

So out of a joke Clint and I made, Tony added a shared bedroom, bathroom, and closet to the common floor. The idea being that if we needed each other we had a place to go. The end result was finished within about a month and a half. He had people working like crazy on it. I can’t imagine the NDA’s the contractors had to sign because what it turned out like was nothing short of screaming; we all sleep together.

What we had when it was done was nothing short of amazing. The closet was massive. Basically a full room of clothes that fit each of us and were in all our styles. There were also clothes for guests if there ever were any. Just a random selection of things in various sizes. Even though I had opted to be closed poly, not everyone else was that way. The bathroom had this huge spa. It wouldn’t fit all of us (there was a hot tub on the roof and one in the pool that would) but I think at least half, maybe more depending on super soldiers and gods being involved. The shower was its own room. How Tony had managed to get the design so it wasn’t like a gym communal shower was beyond me. But he did it. There were all these amazing heads, including a large waterfall that ran down one end of the room. There were benches you could sit or lie on made of wood. There was plant life in the room. It was just amazing.

Finally, the bedroom had a huge round bed in a sunken pit in the floor. It easily fit us all. It was easy to escape and so comfortable. It ended up getting used every night. Not by all of us all the time, but there was always at least two people in there.

Now I know what you’re waiting for. You want to hear about Thor. The thing is, when Clint said that he comes down and there’s a line, he wasn’t kidding. He is such a warm and gentle man despite his size and strength, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and even Bruce all gravitated to him. Even at Bucky’s worst, you could find him sitting between Steve and Thor making himself small like he needed them to take the eyes off him.

When he wasn’t with one of those four, which was most of the time, he had the others waiting for their alone time. He wasn’t going to be here for long, and even though they were okay with him being gone, they missed him when he was. Whereas I didn’t know him at all and with everything else, I just didn’t care. I had too many other things to process to worry about Thor. I enjoyed talking to him. Occasionally, if I was able to sit next to him, he’d put his arm around my shoulder or his large hand on my thigh. I would lean into him and he’d hold me. It was nice. He was warm and comforting. I could see what the others liked about him, and part of me envied it a little, but it was a small part because I knew if I wanted to, I could just say something. I just didn’t have the energy or desire to take him from them.

As the tower returned to normal and we started relaxing again Thor started to prepare for his return to Asgard. He started to seek me out a little more. Apologizing for the lack of time we had together. He’d ask to kiss me and when I agreed his hands would travel, sometimes up under my shirt teasing my breasts. Kissing Thor was kind of amazing. I guess he’s had a lot of practice. He knows when to use tongue and how much. He uses just the right amount of pressure. A kiss from Thor is also accompanied by a static charge that makes your lips tingle. Kissing Thor leaves you wanting much much more.

But that was it. The kissing and slight feeling up. Nothing more than that.

Tony held a farewell party the night before Thor’s leaving. It was a public event and there were a lot of people there, so I was on Tony’s arm. I noticed there seemed to be a lot of whispering and looking at the Avengers, but I’d never been to a party with all of them before so I had no idea what was normal or not. People started leaving around eleven. At midnight we were just us. Just my family.

We ended up sitting on these couches in the penthouse, drinks nearby and just talking. Messing around with each other. Things got more touchy and snuggly between people.

Rhodey stood shaking his head. “Come on, Hill, Vis, let’s leave these deviates to say goodbye to Thor before we get dragged into something.”

Hill laughed. “See it kind of sounds like fun, but maybe another night.” She teased getting up.

Vision followed after them and we wished them all a good night before they disappeared into the elevator.

Thor smiled broadly at the group. “I have missed this.” He said loudly. “And now with a new member of the family.”

I was sitting on the same couch as Thor but Tony was sitting between us. Thor leaned over Tony and one of his large hands went to my jaw as he leaned in to kiss me. As we kissed his other hand ran up the inner seam of Tony’s pants. Tony made a strangled moan and cleared his throat. “How about we go down to the common floor?”

General sounds of agreement were made in the room and everyone got up. Thor, Tony and I were last. Thor didn’t break his kiss with me until I’d started to grow lightheaded from it and I sat blinking for a moment when he pulled away abruptly and got up.

“Come on,” Tony said, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. We all crammed into the elevator. People were already kissing. Steve was kissing Sam’s throat. Bucky had lifted Wanda from the floor and her legs were wrapped around his waist as their tongues danced together. Natasha had backed Clint up so he was pressed against Bucky as they kissed and her hands ran up under his shirt. Bruce pulled Tony to him as he entered and Thor looked down at me with a smile. The doors closed as his hands slid around my back and to my thighs. He lifted me up and we started kissing each other with a desperate need.

When the elevator stopped he carried me through the living area to the bedroom and tossed me onto the bed. I squealed with delight as I bounced on the mattress. The others had all followed us in and everyone started undressing. For a second I forgot myself and just watched. As much as I have been with all these people, we had never done anything like this while I have been with them. I realized too, that this wasn’t just a big deal for me. Tony had never been included in this before either and Bruce had never been brave enough to join in. So much had changed since I joined their family. Not just for me, but for them too. This, what was happening right now, was important. It wasn’t just us doing something dirty or taboo. This was us showing we loved each other and connecting with each other. Saying goodbye to a man they loved and reconnecting with the rest because we’d been hurt.

Clint noticed me watching as he dropped his pants to the floor. He laughed and stretched like he was about to go for a run. “What are you doing, El?” He asked.

“Shit,” I cursed and started stripping my own clothes off, tossing them away from the bed. Natasha dropped to the bed and started crawling towards me. When I was down to my panties, she grabbed them and pulled them off. The others had all started getting into the bed.

“Relax, Mishka,” Natasha said as she kissed her way up my legs and I looked around me. Steve and Tony were sitting face-to-face exploring each other like they were discovering each other for the first time in years. Which might not be far from the truth. Clint had straddled Bruce and had his hands pinned over his head as he kissed his way down his chest. Thor had lifted Wanda on his shoulders and lapping at her cunt as she tugged at her hair. Yellow and red sparks were flying from the two of them. Bucky and Sam were pressed together, Sam stroking both their cocks in his hand. By the time Natasha’s tongue flicked over my clit I was soaking for her.

Natasha sucked and kissed my pussy as I writhed under her. I didn’t know where I wanted my hands to go. I tangled them in her hair. I gripped the bed covers. Her fingers worked expertly inside of me, bringing me to the edge. Just as I was about to come, Clint came up to me I reached over to him and drew him near to me, taking his cock into my mouth. “Mm… that’s it, princess.” He hummed.

The others had shifted around us. Steve, Sam, and Bucky were now together. Steve crouched between Sam’s legs, sucking his cock as Sam leaned back into Bucky kissing him graphically. Bruce was lying on his back with Tony between his legs. They were pressed tightly together as Tony fucked him. Thor was sitting lotus style with Wanda in his lap. I moaned loudly around Clint’s cock the sound joining the others that filled the room. I arched up, under Natasha and came.

Natasha hummed between my legs stroking me through it before coming up to kiss me. She moved over to Thor and I rolled on my hands and knees facing Clint as I resumed sucking his cock. I was aware of them moving around me again, but now I was focused mostly on Clint. I gently teased my fingers over his skin while I massaged his shaft with my tongue, bobbing my head up and down.

His hands grazed down my back and around to my breasts, flicking over my nipples. A second set of hands were on me, followed by lips as Tony kissed his way up my spine. “You ready for little Tony, darling?”

I laughed, releasing Clint’s cock. “Yes, you nerd,” I said.

“That’s not very nice.” Tony teased, running the head of his cock up and down my folds.

“Watch it, Tones. The lady had a job to do.” Clint joked. I hit him on the hip before taking his cock back into my mouth. He yelped before moaning. Tony pushed inside of me and I hummed around Clint’s cock.

As Tony started fucking into me Clint reached over and ran his hand down Tony’s chest. Tony hesitated for a moment before leaning in and kissing him. It started slow and soon became frantic and passionate. I moaned as I watched them. I moved faster on Clint and sucked harder, all-the-while feeling like my blood was boiling inside me.

Clint’s hands started opening and closing, one in my hair, one in Tony’s. He moaned loudly and his hips snapped forward and he came with a groan. I swallowed it down and flicked my tongue over his length until it stilled. I pushed myself up against Tony. His hands went to my throat, holding me in place as he kept fucking into me from behind. Clint kissed me. “Love you, princess.” He whispered before moving to Bucky. Bucky pulled him close and they started kissing and grinding against each other.

The group dynamics had changed again. Natasha was with Bruce, riding him as she pinned his hands over his head. Sam was taking Thor from behind, sweat dripped from both men’s brows. Steve was on his knees between Wanda’s legs as the red glow of her powers covered him and she arched under him.

I slipped off Tony’s cock and turned to face him, pushing him onto his back. “Oh it’s gonna be like that is it?” He smirked.

“You know it is,” I said, straddling his lap and guiding him back inside of me. I leaned down and started kissing at the pulse point just under his ear. “El. I need you to know. I - I love you.” He whispered.

I propped myself up on his chest and looked him in the eye. “I do know. And same.” I said. He pulled me into a hard kiss as I rocked against him. His fingers went to my clit and he started drawing tight circles on it.

An orgasm neared again and when I came I collapsed down on top of Tony. He continued to slowly thrust up into me until it had passed.

Sam called my name and I looked over at him. Tony slapped my ass. “Off you go, this is an orgy after all.” He teased.

Sam was leaning back as Wanda crouched between his legs. Her head bobbing up and down on his cock. “Come join us, princess.” He said, his voice low and husky. I crawled over kissing up Wanda’s spine.

Wanda and I kissed over Sam’s cock before Sam guided us both up to kiss him. First Wanda and then me. Sam grabbed my hips and flipped me onto my back, I wrapped my legs around his waist and drew him into me. He teased the head of his cock up and down once before sinking into me. I moaned and ran my hand up his arm before reaching out to Wanda. “Come here, beautiful,” I said.

Wanda smiled at me and leaned in and kissed me softly, her tongue brushing against my bottom lip. She twisted her hands, and two red glowing orbs danced over her fingers. She placed them on my skin sending it out over my skin, making my hair stand on end. I hummed clenching my core muscles around Sam’s cock. Wanda straddled my face and I put my hands on her hips and started to lick. Her fluids coated my tongue, salty and sweet. Mixed with the fluids of others she had been with and sweat. Her kinetic energy swirled over my already sensitive clit. We were both sensitive it seemed. Each nip or flick of my tongue made her moan.

She and Sam kissed over me. I was barely aware of it. My attention was taken by their hands, the taste of her pussy, the feeling of his cock filling me, drilling into me, and the constant buzz on my skin.

I came again, writhing under Sam and Wanda. I never stopped sucking and licking Wanda’s cunt. I could feel her walls starting to tighten, and her legs started to tremble. She came and I lapped up everything. Drinking down her fluids hungrily.

She climbed off me and for a moment we just lay side by side panting. We started to kiss as Sam moved his body tighter in against me, rolling his hips more with each thrust. The base of his cock dragging over my clit. Wanda squealed and was suddenly dragged away from me. I looked back to see her giggling as Clint and Natasha started kissing their way up her body.

I turned back to Sam and we started to kiss. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rolled my hips with him. He rolled us over but we stayed pressed tightly together, kissing and moving together. More hands touched my back and a large body pressed against me. “Hey, sweetheart,” Steve whispered in my ear. “You think we can take both of us?”

I broke the kiss with Sam and nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Steve pressed his cock against my entrance and slowly eased into me. Sam moaned loudly. “Oh fuck, cap.” Sam moaned, his head falling back. The three of us started to move together. Our hands running over each other. Another climax approached but as it neared Bucky approached us. Sam reached out to him and drew him over. He kissed Steve, ghosting his lips down his neck before he moved to me.

“Hey, doll.” He purred.

“Hey, Buck,” I whisper, our lips meeting. We kissed and he pinched and teased my nipples with his metal fingers. I came again, the sound of my cries muffled by Bucky’s mouth.

Sam groaned and his abs tightened. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Steve slowed down his movements, making Sam whine needily. We drew Bucky closer and he straightened up. Sam and I started sucking his cock in tandem, kissing over his shaft and swirling our tongues around the head of his cock.

Steve picked up his pace again. A sheen of sweat clung to me. There were hands everywhere, stroking me, touching me. Another orgasm hit and I trembled with it, completely unable to hold myself up. Sam groaned and jerked up into me, his cock pulsing as he spilled in waves. Steve’s hips snapped forward and he came as Sam’s cock still pulsed inside me

The three of us collapsed down for a moment and Bucky looked down at me, running his hands up my legs. “How’re ya doin’ there, doll?” He asked.

I nodded and held my arms out to him. “Pretty good, Buck.”

He moved between my legs, and slowly eased inside of me. My cunt was swollen and sensitive and yet he felt so good and I needed him so badly. He moved slowly and I touched all of him that I could reach. He practically purred against me as we moved as one. We kissed and let our mouths trail over each other’s necks and jaws. Bruce approached and lay beside us. We each turned to him and we took turns kissing from one to the other. I could see the flecks of green in Bruce’s eyes letting me know the Big Guy was with us too, but he kept quiet and allowed Bruce to just be gentle with the two of us. Bucky and I continued to move as Bruce teased his hands over us. He slipped one between us and began rolling his thumb over my clit while he ran his fingers over Buck’s balls and the base of his cock.

When my orgasm hit this time, it was more of a slow-rolling wave through me that brought Bucky along with me.

Bucky kissed me softly before rolling off. I straddled Bruce and lowered myself down onto his cock. “Hey, B,” I said, swirling my hips in a figure of eight.

Bruce ran his hands up my stomach and started kneading my breasts. “Hey, L.” He replied, looking up at me. His pupils were blown and his eyes were tinged with green.

All around us people had started to slow down or stop. Thor had Steve on his knees in front of him, moving slowly but fucking him deeply as his hands roamed over Steve’s chest. Tony sat leaning against Natasha, his eyes flicking between Steve and Thor and Bruce and I. Natasha was slowly stroking his cock with her chin resting on his shoulder. Wanda was curled up between Clint and Sam like a cat, while the two men just sat back, each drinking from bottles of water.

I looked back down at Bruce continuing to just roll my hips and rock on his cock. I ran my hands down his chest and flicked my fingernails over his nipples. A low rumble escaped from his slightly parted lips and he propped himself up and started sucking and biting my breasts.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and we moved together. I was starting to feel high from the number of endorphins in my system. I carded my fingers through Bruce’s hair and just closed my eyes and felt him.

With a sudden growl, Bruce flipped us both. He held me down and just started fucking me hard. I looked into his eyes and more green had crept in, but it was him. I was still with Bruce. I dragged my nails down his back and gave myself to him, letting him take what he needed. I was so sensitive and so overstimulated, everything felt good. Heat pressed down in my core and I came again arching back violently. Bruce held me in place and sucked a nipple into his mouth, dragging my orgasm out.

Thor came up behind Bruce, his hand ran over his ass and licked a stripe up his spine. That’s all it took for Bruce to lose control completely. He bucked hard into me and came, his fluids adding to everyone else’s. I moaned loudly and held him close to me until his cock had stilled.

Bruce slipped from me and collapsed down beside me panting. I leaned in and kissed him before looking up at Thor. He was a god in every sense. His body was firm and heavily muscled. His cock, large and standing hard in front of him. He smiled down at me. Somehow that smile was both warm and hungry.

“Lady Elise, are you up for one last round, I’ve been saving myself for you.” He said.

I got up on my knees and moved closer to him. “One last one.” I agreed. He sat back with his legs crossed and I climbed into his lap wrapping my legs around his waist. As I lowered myself down, he guided his thick cock into my swollen cunt.

I became lost in him. We rocked together and I moved up and down, up and down on his dick. Lightening leaked from his eyes and danced over our skin. It made me prickle but it felt cool. My nipples hardened to the point they were painful, but I couldn’t stop.

I was alone with him, yet connected to everyone here. We were on earth, yet spread out through the universe. I was here and I was everywhere. “Do you feel that?” I asked him, my voice breathy and far off.

He chuckled. The sound was warm and inviting. “I do.” He said simply. “Give yourself to it.”

I closed my eyes and could feel all the others in the room on me. I came apart. My orgasm tore through me. I screamed out with it and every muscle in my body clenched. Thor kept moving with me. He held me tightly against his body as I sagged into him and with a few more thrusts he came, groaning and letting his head fall back.

I slithered off his lap and just collapsed where I lay. Steve moved over to me and gathered me up, tucking me properly into bed as Sam cleaned me up and Natasha offered me some water.

I snuggled in against Tony who pulled me in close to him letting me rest my head on his stomach. The others all gathered in close to us. Nobody really slept that night for a long time. We would doze in and out but mostly everyone just talked. We were all together and safe. It felt good.

Epilogue

Things returned to normal after that night. We had months of peace. There were scattered missions here and there, but they were routine and over with easily. Life in the Tower was weird, but I was happy. The others seemed happy too. Content with the way things were and how we all were together.

Rumors had started to spread though. The problem was that because Alexa had had access to so much she knew about us. Which meant HYDRA knew. Which now meant that with the leaking of documents other people were finding out. It had started off as something most people blew off, so they’d ignored it.

Slowly the rumors grew traction. Every time that any of them were photographed in public together the way they stood or looked at each other was scrutinized. ‘Cap was standing very close to Hawkeye and look at the body language, they’re totally fucking.’ ‘Why is Black Widow looking at The Winter Soldier like she wants to devour him if they’re not together?’

Most of that was just stupid speculation. They knew how to behave with each other in public, and usually, they were working anyway. So they were professional. I, however, was a weak, weak link. Aside from Bruce, they didn’t work with me and honestly, Bruce and I were not the most professional all the time when we were in the lab together anyway. When we were out together it was because we were out together and they’d forget themselves. It started with just being seen out with Wanda and Natasha. Natasha still did the ‘respectable distance thing’. People still questioned why Tony Stark’s latest bimbo was out with Black Widow. Wanda and I held hands though. That was it. We just held hands while we went shopping. It made the internet lose their minds. The rumors of the group all being poly had to be true because otherwise what would this nobody be doing walking around holding hands with the Scarlet Witch? Why would Hawkeye have slung his arm over her shoulder? Why would Falcon be nudging her like that?

Steve had decided regardless it was best to ignore it. Making a statement meant it was something worth making a statement about. Unfortunately, public pressure started to build up. The right didn’t like Steve wearing the flag if he was a deviant. Stocks in Stark Industries were fluctuating wildly.

Tony ended up calling a press conference. It was the first time I met his ex. She was nice. I wasn’t expecting that. I guess you always expect the ex to be some kind of evil harpy, don’t you? She was smart and pretty and she asked me if I loved him. I said I did. She asked me if he’d ever said the same to me. I said yes. She looked really sad and I said that he’d also said he’d loved her once too. She gave me a sad smile and told me she just wished she could have heard it. That in the end, it didn’t matter though, he was never meant for monogamy and she’d really known that all along.

We all sat on seats behind a podium. I felt out of place and my heart was hammering. Tony and I had done the odd public appearance here and there but it was always parties. Or things where I stood backstage and wasn’t actually in the limelight. I was sitting there in front of a room full of press. Tony was beside me on one side holding my hand, which felt wet and clammy and Natasha was on the other side of me looking like she could happily murder anyone in the room.

Pepper finished talking and said Tony’s name. He squeezed my hand and kissed me on top of the head before getting up and walking to the podium.

“There has been a lot of rumors and speculation going around about the nature of the relationship between myself and the other Avengers,” Tony said getting in front of the mic and reading from the statement that we had all had a hand in writing. “That it’s not enough that we have formed close friendships based on the nature of our work. Work that requires we trust each other completely. Work that puts our lives in danger almost every day. That makes us targets. All to protect the people of not just America, but Earth.”

He paused a moment and looked back at us before moving to the other side of the podium. “Words have been tossed around. Polyamory. Deviants. I get it. People spend a lot of time together. Why wouldn’t we all be… well, you know.” He said raising his eyebrows. Soft laughter ran through the room.

“My girlfriend has been dragged into it. Because god forbid a woman that not only lives in the same building and works in the labs there could possibly be friends with the other Avengers. She has to be some toy we all use right?” Tony ranted. He looked back at me and I gave him a tight smile. This just felt so wrong. I got it. I understood keeping the relationship secret. There was a lot at stake. But it hurt. It hurt to not be acknowledged. It hurt they had to hide their own feelings. Plus the lying just felt wrong.

“Well, the truth is…” He said still looking at me. “The truth is…”

Steve’s hand went to his face. “Oh shit.” He muttered.

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its-tubbs · 4 years

Text

Black in America

Have you ever given any thought to what it may be like to be Black in America? Chances are no one does unless they are truly a Black or African American person trying to survive. It would be great if everyone could walk in the shoes of a Black person for just one week.

I often wonder if anyone could survive a week when they get upset if a group of people is starting to grill food in Lake Merritt Park or if you are sitting and waiting for a friend at Starbucks.

Fifty years ago, John Howard Griffin published a slim volume about his travels as a "black man" through America. He expected it to be an obscure work of interest primarily to sociologists, but Black Like Me, which told white Americans what they had long refused to believe, sold 10 million copies and became a modern classic.

I keep asking myself and my colleagues what happened? Today, I can't tell the difference between the 60's and 2020. As much as we appear to move forward, we seem to be swiftly reversing in our accomplishments as a race of people. All over the country, racism, discrimination, police brutality and racial profiling have reached the top of the list.

For decades, black parents have told their children that in order to succeed despite racial discrimination, they need to be twice as good, twice as smart, twice as dependable, and twice as talented. This advice can be found in everything from literature to television shows, to day-to-day conversations.

African American employees tend to receive more scrutiny from their bosses than their white colleagues, meaning that small mistakes are more likely to be caught, which over time leads to worse performance reviews, lower wages or job termination.

For the past 15 years, I worked as a freelancer or marketing consultant in order to have better control of my life. As a contractor of color today, contracts became almost obsolete as government organizations and other enterprises stopped giving contracts to those of color because they wanted to hire those that looked like them or to give contracts to friends or family members. What angers me is most white people in charge are never reprimanded or questioned about their choices, even when their contractors are incompetent and unproductive for big buckets of money. Try that as a Black man or woman and you will end up in jail or fired from your position.

In the past year, I took a 40 hour per week job with an organization, hoping to be able to make a difference for priority communities or communities of color to be served. I convinced myself that my skills and experience would be welcomed and positive lessons would be shared and learned to make communities healthier.

Deep down inside I knew that I was simply fooling myself. From the moment I walked in the door, I was greeted with racism, discrimination and passive aggressive behaviors from white privileged co-workers with less experience and who continued to be unable to reach their goals or simply make a difference. I often ask how many t-shirts need to be purchased to reduce disparities in communities of color? That's when I become the enemy questioning their authority and position. Well, they did get that part correct.

As a black man, I can't remember a day when I didn't face discrimination or racist views from others. Depending on my mood, there are days that I wish I didn't have to leave home for meetings or appointments. Often it happens before I even leave my apartment building where I have lived for 15 years, but still get looked at as if I am an intruder or burglar. As a black man, in order to survive, you learn to ignore or suppress most of the negativity that attempts to hit you in the face every day.

As a black man in America, many things happen on a daily basis to push your buttons. The key is learning to stay calm and avoid those threatening triggers. Although the events vary, here are some of the issues that I deal with every day as a black man:

Every time I enter a department store, drug store or office building I am followed, questioned and watched very carefully by security guards, even if they are black. They are trained to be suspicious of other blacks because their training sessions teach them that black and brown people are thieves, murderers and drug addicts looking to steal or cause bodily harm.

Riding public transportation can be a curse or a blessing. If you are black, usually no one will sit next to you unless they are another black person or someone homeless that smells like pure crap. During those times you remove yourself to another part of the car or bus.

Entering an elevator has always been amusing to me. White women, especially would rather take the stairs or wait for the next elevator to come down to the lobby. If they reluctantly enter an elevator with a black man, chances are they will be holding tight to their purses because being black means you are going to snatch their purse and run. Just a note, most black people don't even think about white people at all.

Entering restaurants: Don't be surprised if they are booked. They are very surprised if you have a reservation and in shock that your name was not black enough to alert them.

Office or Team meetings can be quite interesting. Bleeding heart liberals are usually 10 times worse than an outright racist. How can you identify one of them? Well, they are usually passive aggressive and feel that they can say anything to a person of color without ramifications. They can also cry at the drop of a hat if an intelligent response is given. They often will launch into a dialogue that starts with, “that's not really what I meant and I am sorry that you misunderstood me”. When it comes to this bullshit, I don't hesitate to go for their jugular and eliminate the problem without raising my voice or an eyebrow.

A black female employee is told by a co-worker multiple times that she is “so well spoken,” or “not like other black women” that the coworker knows. These comments place a negative assumption on Black Americans, as well as shows contempt or a lack of respect for African American Vernacular English.

A latina staff member is sitting in a team meeting when one of the directors makes a face and starts to put down another latino worker who is no longer with the organization but who has been pulled in as a consultant because of her great skills. Being the only latino staff member in the meeting, she feels crushed by the white co-worker's attitude, facial expressions, and nasty comments about the other latina person. No one else seems to notice except for me.

Driving while Black can be rather frightening. You may be doing everything correctly but if you are black the profiling begins. Being black means that you must be high on drugs, drunk, have a criminal record, have a warrant out for your arrest or may be thinking about committing a crime. To save us all, 10 police cars are called in and you are beaten nearly to death or murdered for resisting arrest. Trust me, it happens every day.

The most difficult one is when you are a Black person who goes in for an interview and the only Black person on the panel, like the security person at Walgreens or CVS, focuses on destroying your chances of being hired. The old name for these people was Uncle Tom, but I have moved to calling them Handkerchief Heads.

Another common form of racial bias can happen even before the interview. Black or Latino sounding names have a disproportionately lower call-back rate than white names when it comes to landing an interview.

Racism is often boiled down to its most basic definition: discrimination and negative stereotyping based on race or skin color. However, the truest definition of racism — that of systemic or institutional racism — is much broader, and understanding that definition can help illustrate the lived experiences of people of color in America.

So how do you survive being Black in America?

If you have stories to share, please sent them to me. Those lessons can help so many others to succeed.

#blackinamerica #blacklivesmatter #racism #institutionalracism #equity #socialequity #equality #internalizedracism #racialhealing #emotionalintelligence #mindfulness #Therightwithinexperience #jeneejohnson

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