#and anita ... was less of a direct protection thing

[midnightunderground-npcs]

Interview: Jose Alves Cruz

Dossier:

Name: Jose Alves Cruz

Age: 50

Species: Human - Thrall

Circle: Mortalis

Known Relationships: Marcia Alves Cruz (Deceased Wife), Josefina Anita Alves Cruz (Daughter), Hollis Fiala (Thraller), Damian Harker (Business Partner of Sorts)

Interview:

What's your name?

“My name?” The mayor smiles easily, setting down his files so he can focus forward on the hunter before him. Hunters and thralls were truly two opposites of the spectrum a simple human could exist as in the Midnight Underground - the Aware falling flatly in the middle. Love the Supernatural so much you tie yourself to them, or hate them enough to spend your life dedicated to their deaths. Of course it was never quite so simple as that. There had been Cameron, the one who had fallen in love with the wolf. Poor man, truly. “Jose Antonio Alves Cruz is my name.”

How do you know Tabitha Spencer?

He takes a few seconds to really ponder the question - how can he answer this as honestly as possible. “I don’t know her well at all. Until I saw her reach for the gun and shoot Mx. Fiala, I didn’t even care to know her name. There are a lot of wolves in the Underground. I hope you can understand how I, a humble thrall, wouldn’t be so privy to all their names. As Mayor I’m more well versed in the Aware and those that aren’t. And Tabitha isn’t the type of wolf you ask to thrall you. She’s too young and too reckless. As you can tell from tonight.”

How do you know Jose Alves Cruz?

The question is redundant. The man before Kellan knows himself probably better than most people do and he looks forward at them with a politicians easy kind of smile.

How do you know Hollis Fiala?

“I’m sure you’ve heard through the grapevine by now just how I now Hollis Fiala,” Jose jokes and gestures to his arm, still in the sling from the bruising pain that’s been there ever since the shot rang out. The woes of being the thrall were simply that. When your thraller hurt, so did you. But when they flew high, well, that was intoxicating, an addiction that was easy to fall for. Temptation had always been the rotten curse in his family line. He thinks for a moment about Josefina who he had trapped in the same curse. It was better this way. “I’m their thrall.”

Did you see the shot happened/What happened that night from your perspective?

“It was all very fast, I hope you can understand.” Jose begins slowly, deliberately, like every word that follows takes him a considerable amount of effort and thought. “I heard something that sounded like a gunshot and then there was an actual gunshot. I felt this pain blossoming in my shoulder and I knew Hollis had been hit. Thralls are tied to their thrallers and as such we feel everything they feel. Though the opposite direction is less intense. What a silly thing for Fae to feel something a human does, for example. Nothing I have experienced has hurt quite so badly. Next thing I knew there was a scuffle and my guards had grabbed Miss Spencer and the gun was on the floor. None of the people paid to protect me would shoot someone who would hurt me indirectly so there was something else to assume. Both Hollis and myself had been shot by Tabitha Spencer. I feel sorry for Damian. He’s a good man.” Though when he says that, well, the smile does not quite reach his eyes.

When did you get the invitation for the party/know you were going to work it?

“I suspected I would get an invitation as I do every year since I’ve been mayor of Las Vegas. To have someone Aware, let alone a thrall, in the back pocket of the Underground is useful so I think they try to keep me on their side by showing me just how human you can all be.” Jose smiles, shaking his head. “It isn’t necessary though. I’m already here. Karlha and Thaddeus are quite the happy couple, aren’t they? Marcia and I would have been celebrating our 27th wedding anniversary this year.”

Did you go with someone?

“I did not. I would have gone with my wife, but, as you know she passed away recently, in November. I’m still in grieving and I haven’t put much thought into it. We were married a long time, over two decades. You can understand that, I’m sure. And I would have brought Josefina, but she had other plans for the evening. Busy thing, my little girl. So very, very much like her mother.” Unfortunate as it was. But he left that part off.

Do you own a gun/have you ever owned a gun?

Jose laughs, mostly because he thinks the line of questioning is a bit silly. He points to the gun safe sitting only a few feet away from him in his office. “As you can see, I do. Many of them. I’m a thrall working as the mayor of a dangerous town with an even more dangerous underbelly that would love nothing more than to take advantage of me and mine. Beyond that, I go hunting quiet often. Duck, deer, anything, really. So yes, I have guns. You’re more than welcome to look through them if you like. All of them are registered in the Unaware databases and I would be happy to have that proof printed off for you to look over at your own discretion. Now, if you don’t need anything else, I have to go back to some documents. I may be part of your world, but I’m also part of the other one and I’ve promised you both plenty.”

#jose alves cruz #trial of tabitha spencer: interviews

[nitrateglow]

Thoughts on While the City Sleeps (1928)

I finally got to see While the City Sleeps, one of Lon Chaney’s late career movies. The movie has never been released on home media or streaming, and can only be found on YouTube as far as I know. The print is quite beat up, with large chunks of missing footage and a story that can often get confusing if you have not read a synopsis beforehand. Regardless, it’s an enjoyable crime yarn, well-directed by Jack Conway and featuring a memorable Chaney performance.

Chaney plays Dan, an Irish-American gumshoe out to thwart gangsters terrorizing the city. He also wants to protect Myrtle (Anita Page), a young flapper who hangs out with crooks for kicks only to find herself endangered by the association. Saving her is a bit complicated though, since she’s in love with one of the less homicidal gang members. To make matters more awkward, Dan’s in love with Myrtle too, despite the massive age gap between them.

Most of the film feels like a prototypical police procedural, with Dan investigating crime scenes and interrogating an assortment of crooks. Chaney is thoroughly absorbed in his role and clearly had a ball with it, incorporating even the smallest details to make his performance believable. He’s tough-fibered but not without a tender side. For example, he is willing to give the sole decent crook Marty a chance to clean up his act.

I’m sad so many segments of this film have deteriorated because there are some thrilling scenes in here that would work so much better if we had the full context for them. I’m particularly sad that the print I watched didn’t have a lot of the Polly Moran character, a landlady who’s sweet on Dan. What does exist gives us a great glimpse of some great comic chemistry between the two of them. I’m with Chaney biographer Michael F. Blake in wishing those two had gotten to be a screen team in the mold of Marie Dressler and Wallace Beery.

About the only thing I didn’t like was the obligatory unrequited love subplot. Chaney movies often have him pining after a woman he cannot have and most of the time, that concept at least fits in the story because Chaney’s characters tend to be outsiders craving affection. However, here it feels more like the writers were like, “Well, Chaney’s in this movie, so we gotta have him mooning after Anita Page.” It doesn’t help that Page was 17 at the time of shooting and very much looks it. The two actors work best in the scenes where Dan is more a frustrated father figure trying to keep Myrtle out of trouble. The romantic stuff just falls flat.

Fortunately, the rest of the movie is good enough to overcome that flaw. It’s interesting to see Chaney in a part like this-- had he lived, it might have been interesting to see him in a film noir along these lines (even though he would have been in his 60s by then... but still!). Like I said before, the print of the full film on YouTube is rough but it’s worth checking out if you love Chaney. Here’s hoping it receives a decent release someday.

#lon chaney #anita page #silent film #thoughts #jack conway #while the city sleeps

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x reader)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about reader’s past. Reader and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Y/N playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love. 

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again. 

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily. 

“Yo, Y/L/N!” 

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Y/N, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Y/N. “So, are we going out or what?”

Y/N groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Y/N chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Y/N stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Y/N was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor. 

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so. 

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Y/N’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Y/N’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Y/N and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool. 

“Y/N is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Y/N insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. 

“The field trip!” Y/N turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously. 

“So many things,” Sam baited. 

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening. 

“Okay, so many things happened,” Y/N started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Y/N composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured. 

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Y/N agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in. 

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Y/N turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” 

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Y/N clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Y/N dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles. 

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Y/N lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space. 

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Y/N reminded him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Y/N complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh. 

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first. 

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Y/N might have been with before him. 

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.” 

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Y/N had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored. 

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.” 

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

“Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Y/N slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee. 

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Y/N with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Y/N with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs. 

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy. 

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door. 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips. 

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close. 

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom. 

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again. 

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen. 

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Y/N waited slightly behind him. 

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip. 

“I knew it!” Michael cried. 

He wrapped himself around Y/N’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Y/N forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Y/L/N’s boyfriend.”

Y/N’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?” 

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh. 

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought. 

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Y/N into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Y/N. 

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe. 

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Hen!” Michael called. 

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him. 

Y/N tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.” 

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand. 

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.” 

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.” 

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins. 

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Y/N said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Y/N held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.” 

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Y/N told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Y/N handed him the menu. 

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Y/N had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Y/N settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up. 

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?” 

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.” 

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.” 

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised. 

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her. 

“Even my feet?” 

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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[popentertainmentmusic]

MARY J. BLIGE’S MY LIFE (2021)

Featuring Mary J. Blige, Sean Combs, Taraji P. Henson, Alicia Keys, Tyler Perry, Method Man, Nas, Andre Harrell, Big Bub, Chucky Thompson, Anita Baker, LaTonya Blige-DaCosta and Jeff Redd.

Directed by Vanessa Roth.

Distributed by Amazon Studios. 82 minutes. Rated R.

This documentary pretty much specifically focuses on Blige’s second album release, My Life, which celebrated its 25th anniversary in 2019, leading to a very abbreviated tour. According to Blige herself and several of her collaborators and fans, My Life was her darkest, most personal album and perhaps her defining moment as an artist, both popularly and artistically.

Perhaps, but that may be tossing the net too closely. Although the film also discusses her growing up and discovery and her hit debut album, it barely touches upon much of her career after 1994-1995 – except for showing some performances from a couple of 25th anniversary My Life concerts. It mostly ignores the 11 albums she has released since then, any of her later hit singles, or even her increasingly busy side hustle as an actress.

I’m just wondering if focusing on My Life almost exclusively is the best idea for a documentary. Yes, I get that it was during a very dramatic and fraught time of her life – with drug, alcohol and relationship problems and battling with depression – and it was also a time when she had not quite come to terms with her fame, nor did she feel worthy of it. It was arguably also the album where Blige found her musical voice – she had less power and less input in the recording of her smash debut album.

My Life should definitely be a good chunk of a documentary. However, unless you are very familiar with the album, focusing on it so completely takes away some of the film’s interest. While I’m not the world’s biggest fan, I know several of Mary J. Blige’s songs, and only two of them in this film were familiar to me – and one of those, “Real Love,” was actually from her previous album What’s the 411? Okay, I knew three songs here if you count a live cover of “Caught Up in the Rapture” which she performs as a duet with that song’s original vocalist, Anita Baker.

However, this documentary is meant for the hardcore fans – not the casual ones like me. Several are interviewed during the running time, and Blige takes more than one opportunity to profess her love for the fans. This is a love letter for the people who have supported her, and what is wrong with that?

Nothing, but it does keep the proceedings from digging too deep into the subject as well. This is sort of a fan club celebration. Yes, Blige does share some dark moments in her past, such as her abusive relationship at the time of the recording with then-popular singer Cedric “K-Ci” Hailey of Jodeci (and later K-Ci & JoJo).

While she does open up – somewhat – about what happened, the film purposefully skirts its way around most of the hard details. Also, the film takes it as a given that K-Ci was the bad guy here – and he probably was – but everyone who discusses it here blames him entirely. K-Ci himself, or anyone who may have a different explanation, is not invited to give his side of the story. Which I guess is somewhat expected – it’s her movie, not his – but it still seems like you’re only hearing from one side.

At one point in the documentary, when watching an uncomfortable interview clip of herself circa the album, acknowledges she is very protective of her younger self.

As is everybody else. Sean “Diddy” Combs gushes about his protegee. Rapper and co-writer Big Bub states that they were making history. The late music exec Andre Harrell (who suddenly died last year not long after doing interviews for the documentary – the doc is dedicated to him) expounds upon her talent and her unique soul and funkiness.

And, yes, what Blige achieved did change music for black artists – particularly women. She helped to introduce ghetto chic to a staid music world which tended to try to sand the rough edges and the ethnicity from African American divas. She was not quite as alone in this pursuit as the film claims, though, just off the top of my head I can remember TLC doing similar things at about the same time. However, all props to Mary, she was able to change the direction of music, which is no small feat.

My Life shows Mary J. Blige to be a fascinating and complicated artist. I just wish it dug a little deeper into her career and her complications.

Jay S. Jacobs

Copyright ©2021 PopEntertainment.com. All rights reserved. Posted: June 25, 2021.

#Mary J. Blige #2021 #Music Video Review #Mary J. Blige's My Life #Jay S. Jacobs

[superchartisland]

Beneath a Steel Sky (Revolution/Virgin, Amiga, 1994)

[Throughout this project, I will be handing over this space to the viewpoints of others for guest posts. The idea for a project like this was a joint one between me and my brother Martin, and the idea for the name AAA was his. It was writing guest posts for his currently-dormant and less chart-based version that got me going on writing and convinced me to do the one you’re reading now. In a reversal of roles, here is a guest post from Martin.]

In the high-octane thrill-a-minute world of adventure game production studios, the big names, the Blur and Oasis, are LucasArts and Sierra. LucasArts, we have talked about in some detail before. Sierra, meanwhile, are best known for their King’s Quest series, which did the same kind of genre pastiche as LucasArts, only replete with multitudes of arbitrary death traps, usually accompanied by groan-worthy puns. Indeed, LucasArts pointedly made their first Monkey Island game as a direct reaction against elements of Sierra’s philosophy that they (correctly) deemed to be anti-fun, including a moment fairly late in the game where stepping on a certain patch of ground causes main character Guybrush to fall down a cliff and plummet seemingly to his death, accompanied by a pitch-perfect parody of the typical Sierra death scene, only for him to bounce back up and simply declare the immortal words “Rubber tree.”

But, like Blur/Oasis, like Commodore 64/ZX Spectrum, the Sierra/LucasArts divide is a false dichotomy, and other possibilities exist - like Simon the Sorcerer, Discworld, and Broken Sword, all fondly remembered series with their own spin on the genre. The last of those, in particular, while not wholly lacking a sense of humour, stood out from the crowd by taking itself a little more seriously than any of the others. At times it came across a little melodramatic, and I was never as fully engrossed in the adventures of George Broussard as I had been by those of Guybrush Threepwood, but I enjoyed them enough to finish both of the first two games in the series. Anyway, before they got to Broken Sword, the company behind it - Revolution Games - released a little game by the name of Beneath a Steel Sky for the Amiga, receiving considerable acclaim at the time.

I’d never played it before I started playing through old popular games, in a similar way to Syndicate, with which it shares a dystopian cyberpunk aesthetic and little else. Beneath a Steel Sky, as it turns out, is something of a minor classic. And humour is certainly a key component - like Broken Sword, the game doesn’t have the kind of self-referential knowing winks that characterise the likes of Monkey Island, but that doesn’t stop it from having moments of hilarity.

There is a specific moment in the game that I think best exemplifies this - a moment where I literally threw a literal spanner into the works of one of the machines that power the all-powerful and evil corporation that governs the world of Beneath a Steel Sky, halting a conveyor belt transporting pipes through a factory. See, there’s a man named Potts in this factory, whose job it is to inspect the pipes that come past on the production line and ensure that they are up to standard, and his response to this obvious act of sabotage is to pretend he hasn’t noticed. His job, he reasons, is to inspect the pipes that come past, nothing more. If the pipes suddenly stop coming past, it’s not his job to investigate why, so he will simply stand and wait for pipes, thus, technically, continuing to fulfill his duty to inspect every pipe that comes past him.

Douglas Adams was an influence on LucasArts and even worked with them on Labyrinth, but Beneath a Steel Sky nails its colours even more squarely to the mast of his style of humour, making petty and small-minded bureaucracy the butt of all its best jokes. This comparison is helped along even further on the CD version by the rather idiosyncratic choice to have all of its characters save protagonist Robert Foster and his robot sidekick Joey talk in a variety of regional British accents, despite the game being explicitly set in a future Australia. But it’s the biting cynicism and quiet fury at utterly pointless injustices that Beneath a Steel Sky really shares with his work.

The lovely moment I described comes shortly after you meet Potts’ boss, Gilbert Lamb, a pompous, self-important bully who dresses like a football manager and unironically says things like “Don’t you know who I am?”. Lamb is introduced in a scene where he berates another employee, Anita, for the crime of making conversation with Foster instead of conducting her tedious and seemingly pointless work in dead silence, and punishes her by making her work around radioactive materials without wearing any kind of protective equipment, because she is a ‘D-Linc’ and therefore has no rights in this world. Which, in its needlessly cruel and callous disregard for her well-being… hardly even feels like satire right now. Just the other day I was reading about how there is no safety warning tape on Tesla factory floors, because Elon Musk “doesn’t like the color yellow”. That’s the thing about the hypothetical futures of the cyberpunk dystopias of this era. There’s no way for any of them to be more horrifying than the actual future we are living in now.

The thing that Beneath a Steel Sky reiterates, time and time again, is that people living in cyberpunk dystopias are all too willing to look the other way as the grinding engines of oppression continue to crush lives into dust, so long as they personally aren’t the ones being crushed. Potts isn’t some hero of the people. He isn’t pretending not to notice the halt in the production line as an act of defiant rebellion. He just doesn’t care. And, more to the point, he is in the privileged position of being able to not care; he knows that as a white male (or ‘non D-Linc’ if you prefer) he can totally slack off with little more than a slap on the wrist. And it’s not just Potts - almost every character you meet throughout the game displays incredible indifference to the fact that they live in a nightmarish dystopia - not a lack of awareness, just a lack of resistance. Everyone you meet in the game, save for Anita - the one person directly in the firing line - is the same, with even Foster, your player avatar, not exempt. That’s the point. We are all complicit.

Gallup Amiga chart, Amiga Format, June 1994

#every number one #Beneath a Steel Sky #Amiga #retrogaming

[introvertguide]

West Side Story (1961); AFI #51

The movie that I have spent so much time reviewing has been the absolute classic West Side Story (1961). It is the cinematic version of the Berstein and Sondheim play that was based on the Shakespearean story of Romeo and Juliet. The film was far and away the big winner at the Oscars getting ten awards including: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Art Direction, Best Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Sound, Best Score, and Best Costume Design. The AFI awarded it with 3 of the top 100 songs in American cinema (”Somewhere,” “America,” and “Tonight”) and it is considered the 2nd greatest musical. I want to go through the plot of the film briefly and then discuss some of its aspects:

SPOILER ALERT!!!

The movie begins with the toughest gang dance scene ever put to film. There is tension between a white American gang, the Jets, and a Puerto Rican gang, the Sharks. The Jets are led by Riff (Russ Tamblyn) and the Sharks are led by Bernardo (George Chakris). A fight breaks out and Lieutenant Schrank and Officer Krupke arrive and break it up. The Jets decide to challenge the Sharks to a rumble at an upcoming dance for neighborhood control. There is singing.

Riff says that his best friend Tony (Richard Beyman) should fight in the rumble, but Tony now has a job. Riff invites Tony to the dance, but Tony is uninterested. He tells Riff that he senses something important will happen and Riff says that Tony should come to the dance because maybe that is where that important thing will take place. Then there is singing. 

Bernardo's younger sister, Maria (Natalie Wood), is excited to go to the dance because it is her first time going out, almost like a debutant ball. She is harassing Bernardo’s girl friend Anita (Rita Moreno) to make her neckline lower so she can impress at the dance. Once everyone gets there, despite the efforts of the DJ, the different racial groups do not mix and take turns dancing around the center of the room. Tony arrives and he and Maria fall in love at first sight in one of the most strikingly cinematic scenes. Bernardo is not having it and demands that Tony keep away from his sister. At the end of the scene, the gang leaders agree to have a war council at the local drug store.

Maria is sent home in a romantic daze while the rest of the Puerto Rican gang and their girlfriends dance on the roof and compare Puerto Rico and the US in a lovely rooftop dance. There is lots of singing. 

Tony discreetly visits Maria on her fire escape, where they reaffirm their love. There is singing and it is very similar to the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. Side note, Maria keeps telling Tony to be quiet but they are both belting out their love for each other. Very silly. Krupke, who suspects the Jets are planning something, visits the drug store and tells the Jets to keep clean. After Krupke leaves, the gang has a rather long song and dance number explaining why their behavior is not their fault. When the Sharks arrive, both groups agree to have the showdown the following evening under the highway, with a one-on-one fist fight. Schrank shows up and tells the Sharks to leave then askes the Jets to tell where the rumble will be so that Schrank can protect them. The gang reveals nothing about the fight. 

Maria is on cloud nine the next day at work and goes on about feeling like the prettiest girl in the world. There is singing. Anita accidentally tells Maria about the rumble. Tony arrives to see Maria, which shocks Anita. The couple admits that they are in love and Anita warns them about the consequences if Bernardo learns of their relationship. Maria makes Tony promise to prevent the rumble and the couple fantasize about their wedding ceremony. There is more singing. 

The Jets and Sharks approach the area under the highway. Tony arrives to stop the fight, but Bernardo antagonizes him, trying to bait Tony into a fight. Unwilling to watch Tony be humiliated, Riff initiates a knife fight. Tony tries to intervene, which leads to Bernardo killing Riff. Tony see his best friend dead and kills Bernardo with Riff's knife. Police sirens blare and everyone flees, leaving behind the dead bodies.

Maria waits for Tony on the rooftop of her apartment building when the boy that Bernardo had wanted her to date, Chino (Jose De Vega), arrives and tells her what happened. Tony arrives later and relates his side of the story and asks for her forgiveness before he turns himself in to the police. Maria is upset about her brother but does not want to lose Tony so she asks him to stay with her.

The Jets assemble outside a garage with a new leader and decide that they need to lay low in case they run into the police. There is singing. The idea of the number is that they need to play it cool, but the members keep spazzing out like they can’t hold in their rage. 

Tony and Maria arrange to meet at Doc's, where they will pick up getaway money to elope. Anita goes to see Maria and sees Tony running away. She is angry about Tony but agrees to help them since Maria loves Tony like Anita had loved Bernardo. 

Schrank arrives and questions Maria about the rumble. Tony is waiting at Doc’s drug store and she can’t leave, so Maria has Anita go to the drug store in her place to tell Tony that Maria is detained from meeting him. When Anita reaches Doc's, the Jets harass her until Doc intervenes. Anita declares that Bernardo was right about them and that Chino killed Maria. Doc banishes the Jets and gives Tony his getaway money in the basement and delivers Anita's message. Tony runs into the streets, shouting for Chino to kill him as well. 

In the playground next to Doc's, Tony spots Maria and they run toward each other, only for Chino to shoot Tony. The Jets and Sharks arrive to find Maria holding Tony, who dies. Maria stops the gangs from fighting and takes the gun from Chino and threatens to shoot everyone, blaming their hate for the deaths. Schrank, Krupke and Doc arrive and the gangs form a funeral procession, with Maria following. The police arrest Chino and lead him away. There is no singing.

This film stays very close to its roots and follows the timing beats of Romeo and Juliet almost spot on. Tony is Romeo, Maria is Juliet, Riff is Mercutio, Bernardo is Tybalt, Anita replaces the role of the Nurse, and Doc is the Friar. There is a lot less singing in the Shakespeare play. The opening fight scene, the balcony scene, the death of Mercutio by Tybalt, the revenge of Romeo. The story is all there. All are punished.

I try very hard not to be topical with these reviews, but I wanted this to come out before a 2019 remake was finished. Steven Spielberg is directing so it will likely do well and I did not want to have to delineate between the two by constantly referencing the year. 

There is only one gripe I have with the film and that is the two lead actors. Tony does not seem like a tough guy who is won over by love and Maria is played by Natalie Wood in dark make-up. Neither of them are very good dancers and apparently neither of them could sing because both of them were dubbed completely for any singing sequences. But everything else is so vibrant and beautiful with spectacular music and dance sequences. The film is cinematically appealing with huge crane shots that show these massive scenes. The film could have put just about anybody as the lead and it would still have been fantastic, it is too bad there weren’t actors cast who could have elevated the role.

I want to point out again the scene where the star crossed lovers meet at the dance hall and how it is so beautifully cinematic. The two see each other and everything around them becomes dull and fuzzy. Only the faces are in focus. The music goes from blasting brass and super expressive dancing of all the people in the hall to just the couple dancing to light woodwinds very slowly and sweetly. It is exquisitely shot. The music then catches up and Bernardo steps in to break up the meeting. It is only about two minutes of run time, but it is one of my favorite bits of cinema that I have ever seen.

I have made fun of how strange the dancing is with the serious tone of the film (the intro fight scene, the “play it cool” number, the knife fight that looks like a dance number), but the incongruous actions add a charm that I absolutely love. I tried to get some of my housemates to sit down and watch the film with me and they were having none of it. I told them that one of the main characters was Russ Tamblyn who played the weird doctor in Twin Peaks, but they did not care. I told them the film had white actress Natalie wood basically in brown face. Nothing. I even threw in the “Beat It” video style knife fight and I still got nothing. So I watched alone. I still loved it.

The question of whether or not this should be on the AFI list is not much of a question: Of course. It is a beautiful story and a beautiful movie. It won 10 Oscars. It adapted Shakespeare’s great tragedy and set it in New York. The whole concept is pure genius. Would I recommend it? I would say that if you haven’t seen it then you need to go out right now and find it. It is referenced in so many things that not seeing it means you are missing out. The depth that this movie is ingrained in Americana is staggering. It is political, it is sweet, it is fun, and it is a tragedy. Managing all these things puts it in my top 10 of all time. 

#west side story #Natalie Wood #rita moreno #bernstein and sondheim #musical #Oscar winner #shakespeare #romeo and juliet #race #Puerto rican #singing #cinematography #AFI movies #introvert #dancing

[theshapeshifter100]

Guess What? I’m Not a Robot Ch28

Summary: The police start to round up androids and impose the curfew.

Chapter Warnings: Crying, heavy military presence, implied anxiety

Word Count: 1,827

3PM Tuesday 9th November 2038

They only just had time for Megan to shower and partially dry and Paul to change clothes before things started getting bad.

The news had been blaring since they got in, and besides the protests that day, a large chunk of what was playing was repeated messages for all androids to be handed over to the police and a curfew was being put in place for all of Detroit.

Megan stared at the screen, swallowing hard as she paused in towel drying her hair. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

Megan looked over at Paul, who was also watching, rapt. They had two options. Stay here safely, until the mentioned temperature checks were brought in, in which case they were screwed. Or they could try to leave, but where would they go?

They could go to Megan’s parent’s home, except androids were in use across the country, so it might not be long until checks started happening there too. Canada was an option, she had cousins in Canada, but then what? They couldn’t stay in Canada forever!

The answer came in the form of a message from Alex.

AAA Battery: Everyone get to mine ASAP

Paul and Megan saw it at the same time and looked at each other. Alex lived on the other side of the city, and if there was a curfew in place, public transport might not be running.

“We can make it,” Paul stated. “I don’t need to sleep; I can carry you.”

“It’ll take hours!” Megan protested, “I don’t see this curfew getting any better.”

“Then we leave before it gets worse.”

“Here is safe!”

“Here we’re sitting ducks!”

“The police don’t know that you’re an android!”

“They didn’t do full checks!” Paul was starting to pace. “What if this escalates to raids? What if the door gets knocked down and I’m scanned with a temperature sensor before either of us can do anything? What then? Because if that happens, I’m shut down and you’re arrested!”

“That could happen if we leave!”

“If we leave, we can have more control over it,” Paul stopped pacing to look at her. “It’s still daylight.”

“It’ll be dark by the time we get to Alex’s.”

“We’ll be fine. People are still leaving work places. We can caught in the rush. If we don’t find anyone to get us to Alex’s, fine. We’ll cope.”

Megan swallowed. “I really don’t like this.”

“It’s two evils,” Paul agreed. “We’ve just got to decide which one is more likely to work.”

“We don’t have enough information,” Megan twisted her hands together. “We don’t know what they’re going to do.”

“And we won’t know until it’s too late,” Paul looked at her pleadingly. “Let’s go. Please.”

“Okay, let me get a bag,” Megan declared, giving her hair one last towel dry before dropping the towel in the laundry basket.

“I’ll warn the Beckwith’s,” Paul decided, grabbing keys from the bowl and putting on his baseball cap.

“Be safe.”

“I will,” Paul stepped out of the door, barely letting it close behind him before striding to the other side of the hall and knocking on the Beckwith’s door.

The android opened the door, making Paul stiffen. He’d never talked to her, never wanted to. She was his replacement, seeing her was painful.

He had to put that aside.

“Are Mrs and Mrs Beckwith home?” he asked Anita. “It’s urgent.”

“Of course. One moment,” Anita stepped back into the house, and brought out the young Mrs Beckwith, who Paul remembered being called Danielle.

“Paul? What is it? Why are you dressed like that?”

“Never mind that!” Paul waved off, shocking Mrs Beckwith into silence. “Have you been watching the news?” he knew the answer was likely to be ‘no’, they rarely did watch the news.

“No, no we have not,” Mrs Beckwith seemed to have recovered her wits. “What on earth has gotten into you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Look, police are organising raids in residential areas, rounding up androids. If you want to protect Anita you need to get out of Detroit. Get her out of the uniform, hide or remove her LED and she might just be safe.”

Mrs Beckwith blinked in surprise, taking this in. “Very well. We shall do just that. Stay safe Paul,” she closed the door and Paul turned to see Megan standing next to him. She had a smallish backpack over her shoulder and was holding out his hoodie and raincoat.

“Make it a little less obvious that you don’t feel the cold,” she noted, and Paul put them on, noting that she was also wearing a hoodie and a coat.

“Let’s go,” he said, and Megan nodded, face grim and tight with nervous determination.

 3.20PM Tuesday 9th November 2038

Once outside they realised that one detail wasn’t quite correct.

“People are getting on the bus,” Megan noted.

“Yeah, they’re just being guarded,” Paul added, clocking the black body armour the guards were wearing.

“And checking ID’s,” Megan sighed. “Never mind.”

“Let’s go before they spot us,” Paul added, and the two kept walking. They went in the opposite direction to the bus stop. Even with people still using public transport, it was almost eerily quiet.

Automated taxis zoomed by, but all the taxi ranks were empty. They still had to walk.

“Hey! You two!”

Megan and Paul froze at the shout. Megan shoved her hands in her pockets as they turned, trying to hide her fists clenched in fear.

A black armoured soldier walked over at a brisk pace. “There’s a curfew being put in place right now. Go to your homes.”

“That’s where we are going,” Paul assured.

“Very well, ID’s please.”

Megan’s heart rate shot through the roof, but Paul managed to remain calm.

“Aw damn it, I left it at home. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a curfew, you know?”

“What about you?” he asked Megan, and she fished out her student ID and handed it to him. He inspected it and handed it back over. “Looks alright here ma’am. Sir, I’m just going to have to ask you to hold still a moment.”

He pulled out a small handheld laser device, which they both recognised as a temperature sensor that was being shown on the news. He made to scan it at them, but paused when the red light didn’t come on.

“What the...?” he pulled it back and checked it over. “I swore I... Damn batteries died almost instantly!” he put the temperature gun away. “Apologies ma’am, sir. You look alright, get home safe.”

“Thank you sir,” Paul smiled as he began to walk away, and Megan managed to small smile before following him.

Once out of earshot Megan muttered.

“That was too close.”

“Agreed.”

They had to pass through the busier parts of Detroit to get to Alex’s, so dived for the nearest parked car when they saw another guard. Megan put her hand over her mouth to hide the water vapour as they walked past, heart hammering in her chest. They walked past, scanned the area, and turned around.

Paul grabbed her hand and she followed him to the next car. A squad came running past, but missed them entirely. Instead they descended on an unlucky android.

Both Megan and Paul tensed as the android begged with the squad, trying to get them to believe that they were human. A single gunshot sounded and the android went silent.

Paul gripped Megan’s hand and she squeezed it. It wasn’t over yet for them.

They took it one car at a time, sprinting across gaps when they had to. It took the best part of two hours to get out of the city centre, and by that point Megan was almost convinced that she’d had multiple heart attacks.

The number of military personal decreased once they left the centre, but on the flip side, there were fewer places to hide, and fewer androids to distract them.

“Stop right there!” one cried as they tried to duck between street lights, and a hand grabbed Megan’s shoulder to pull her away from Paul.

“What are you doing? There’s a curfew,” even though they couldn’t see his face, they had a feeling he was narrowing his eyes, especially at Paul. The fact that Paul had changed his hair suddenly gave them the benefit of the doubt.

“Sorry, we’re not familiar with Detroit,” Paul was the King of Excuses tonight. “We’re trying to get back to our host family, but we’ve been lost for hours!”

“Hours, huh?” the soldier didn’t seem to believe them. “Can I see your ID’s please?”

Paul groaned. “I left it at the host family’s house. I’m sorry, I’m forgetful.”

“Forget his head if it wasn’t screwed on,” Megan managed to chime in coherently, despite her heart trying to make a new home outside of her rib cage.

The solider seemed to run out of patience and whipped out the temperature gun. In the low light it could be mistaken for an actual gun, which gave Megan an idea.

“I wanna go home!” she suddenly cried, and began to full on sob. Even Paul was taken aback as tears and snot began to fall down her face at a rapid pace.

The soldier paused in lifting the temperature sensor and looked around for backup, clearly flustered. Luckily for Megan and Paul, there was no such backup.

“O-okay, please stop crying,” the soldier tried to comfort. “It’s not a real gun-”

On the word ‘gun’ Megan turned the crying up to 11 and Paul shot the soldier a look with a mix of ‘look what you did’ and ‘help me’.

“Okay okay,” the solider put the temperature scanner away. “See, it’s gone. You two head back now. I’d escort you but I have to keep an eye for deviants. If you see anything dangerous, get as far as you can away from it. Understand?”

Megan nodded. “Ye-yes,” she half sobbed, hiccupping and wiping her eyes.

“Atta girl. Stay safe you two,” the soldier walked off in one direction and Megan and Paul went in the other.

“What was that?” Paul hissed once out of earshot.

“Never underestimate the power of the ugly cry,” Megan informed him sagely, wiping snot off of her face with her sleeve. “It works especially well if you’re already terrified, you’re female, and you look younger than you are.”

“I will have to remember that.”

“It won’t work on you,” Megan added. “You’re too tall and obviously older. You might be able to pretend to have autism, but that’s touchy territory so I wouldn’t recommend it unless you really had to.”

The two of them stuck to the shadows and walked through the park to avoid soldiers. They even ended up diving for someone’s front yard as one of them started to turn their flashlight unexpectedly in their direction.

Finally, nearly five hours after they’d left, they made it to Alex’s.

So, shit hit the fan quick. This is a part of the story were I have to make some assumptions, as we don't see this happening until Kara and co make their way to Jericho, but Rose claims it's been happening for hours.

Other Options Flowchart

(Megan) Stay in the apartment (leads to different scene where they have to leave or be arrested)

(Paul) Don't warn the Beckwiths.

(Paul) Pretend not to be deviant.

(Paul) Tell them to stay put. Tell them to hide

(Paul) Second guard. Run. Knock away sensor. Attack.

(Megan (same scenario)) Talk down. Beg. Distract. If failed, Paul would be shot and Megan possibly arrested. QTEs. Going between cars, if failed chances of being spotted is higher-may lead to Paul dead ending and maybe Megan arrested.

Tags! @nightmarejim @septicart-appreciation

#Detroit Become Human #Detroit Become Human fanfic #Guess What? I'm Not a Robot #Guess What? I'm a Robot Ch28 #deviant androids #androids #miltary #TheShapeshifter100 writes

[quillwritten]

Writathon pt. 3

Here’s a section of the long scene I wrote today. I’m not entirely fond of all the technical aspects of the writing, but I really like the idea and the plot of the scene, as well as a few of the sentences.

They found their seats at the back of the room, at a four person bench they shard with a girl from Sparta house, Emily Kelly. It was the only class they shared that Sorrel sat with them rather than Dove, who shot them a filthy look from the front corner. 

They had time to take their equipment out and ask Emily about the homework before Professor June showed up. She bounced into the room, her skirt billowing around her knees and ringlets bouncing by her ears.

“Alright folks, today’s going to be a bit more exciting than usual because I’ve got a fun experiment for you!”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “I wonder is this experiment going to be more or less fun than the last one in which she tried to get us to eat different sweets to tell which were poisoned.”

Sorrel frowned. Anita and Avery giggled. Professor June had some questionable ideas, but they were generally more interesting than sitting and copying from the textbook for fifty minutes. Even the poisoned sweets debacle had just given Avery an excuse to practise her protective casts, and their table had been the only one to not end up in medical.

“Gather round the front desk, please, everyone! Okay, can you all see? So, for homework I asked you to research the connections between someone’s physical energy and their madgickal energy, and the connection between blood and madgick.” 

Professor June plucked a decorative comb from her hair and presented her arm for everyone to see, palm up. The, whilst still chatting merrily, she drew the comb across her forearm with a lilac glow. Several people gasped as blood welled up along the cut she’d made. Avery’s arm started to pulse in sympathy, and Anita went grey.

“Oh don’t be silly, it’s just a bit of blood! Hardly hurts at all!”

Avery and her arm begged to differ. She tried to ignore the dull pulse along her scar and instead wrapped her arm around Anita’s waist, hoping it looked like a casual thing instead of what it actually was, which was holding Anita up before she collapsed.

On the other side of the table, Dove slanted another look towards them that Avery couldn’t read. It looked like confusion, or concern, which had to be wrong. Avery crossed the first two fingers of the hand that wasn’t holding Anita up and flicked the sign at Dove when Professor June wasn’t watching. Dove’s features soured but the teacher was looking in her direction so she couldn’t do anything back.

“So now I’ve collected some of my blood in this dish, I’m just going to cast something quick and easy.”

June said something in Greek and one of the pens on the desk floated up to eye level. It was probably the easiest spell any caster knew. They all learnt it in year seven because it took almost no concentration and even less energy, but the most use Avery had ever seen anyone get out of it was carrying shopping bags.

“Woah, what’s happening?” Jack Foster nearly fell into Dove jumping back from the desk. Everyone turned their attention from the glowing lilac pen to the disk on the table, in which the blood had started shimmering and twisting like there was some sort of current in it.

Avery grabbed Anita properly just as her legs gave out.

“Professor, can I take Anita out?”

Professor June’s sun-bright smile faltered when she saw Avery and Anita, and she nodded hastily. 

There’s quite a bit of character development in Anita in this scene, as well as some worldbuilding. I think I shall develop on both these in upcoming posts later today!

#writathon #casters #silverstorm #writing #anita #anita madanu #writeblr community #writeblr #writing community

[organicdietguide]

COVID-19: Advice for Pregnant Women | Advice for pregnant women

COVID-19 And pregnancy!

The Royal College of Obstetrics and Gynaecologists from the UKissued this information Source : RANZCOG website.

Pregnant women do not appear to be more susceptible to the consequences of COVID-19 than the general population and there is no evidence that the virus can pass to a baby during pregnancy.

The Real Mom’s Guide

There are currently no data suggesting an increased risk of miscarriage or early pregnancy loss in relation to COVID-19.

At the moment there is no evidence that the virus can be carried in breastmilk, so it is felt the benefits of breastfeeding outweigh any potential risks of transmission of coronavirus through breastmilk.

There is limited evidence about managing women with coronavirus infection in women who have just given birth; however, there are no reports of women diagnosed with coronavirus during the third trimester of pregnancy having passed the virus to their babies while in the womb.

Professor Mark Umstad, Director of Maternity Services at the Women’s, reassures women who are pregnant.

“As the impact of COVID-19 extends through our society, we want to reassure pregnant women that there is still no evidence that they are more susceptible to infection than non-pregnant women, and that there is no sign that their unborn babies can be infected,” said Professor Mark Umstad.

“The Women’s is safe place to be for women giving birth. And while there are extra precautions in place, such as screening upon entry, you will recieve the care you need when you come to our hospital.

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“Doctors, nurses, midwives and hospitals across Victoria are working together to ensure the safest possible outcomes for pregnant women and their babies during this understandably stressful period for them.”

Information on feeding your baby.

Taking advice from the World Health Organization and other breastfeeding authorities, the Women’s continues to advise women to establish and maintain breastfeeding and to promote skin-to-skin contact at birth for all women and their babies

Anita Moorhead, senior lactation consultant and clinical midwife at the Women’s, says that as with other peak times for illnesses (like the seasonal flu), mothers are encouraged to continue to breastfeed – but with careful attention to hand hygiene and how they direct their coughs and sneezes.

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“It’s important that breastfeeding mothers are paying close attention to advice on reducing your risk of coronavirus,” said Anita Moorhead.

“With current advice, if you are a suspected or confirmed that a mother has COVID 19, we would encourage you to wear a mask when feeding or expressing breast milk for your baby, have your baby in a cot about 1.5 metres away from mother when not feeding and, where possible, have someone else help with the care of the baby.

“We know that breastfeeding and providing breast milk is one of the best things to help prevent many infections for babies, so our advice at the moment remains the same: keep breastfeeding and keep up with the careful handwashing. Know that you are caring for your baby well and we will help you to do that.”

Belly Fat in Women

Formula feeding.

“Where a mother needs to use infant formula, strict hand washing and careful attention to sterilising of bottles and making of infant formula is so important,” added Anita Moorhead.

“Due to recent issues with food availability, if the infant formula that you usually use for your baby is not available, then it’s okay to use another formula.

“Make sure it is infant formula suitable for babies from birth to 12 months and to ensure careful attention to the directions on the can. Be aware alternative brands may have different size scoops in the tin and use different amounts of water.”

Sources: World Health Organization, Australian Breastfeeding Association, Academy of Breastfeeding Medicine, Royal College of Obstetrics and Gynaecology (UK) and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (US).

Reducing your risk.

Practice good hand hygiene – wash your hands regularly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds and dry with paper towel or a hand dryer. Alcohol based hand rub is an acceptable alternative.

Cover your nose and mouth with a tissue when coughing or sneezing or cough or sneeze into the crook of your elbow, and encourage others to do the same. Make sure you put the tissue into a bin and then wash your hands afterwards.

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Avoid touching your eyes, nose and mouth with unclean hands.

Where possible, keep at least one metre away from people who have a respiratory illness and/or is coughing and sneezing.

Avoid shaking hands with others.

Pregnant women should be considered a vulnerable or at-risk group, however, information and advice to the general public apply equally to pregnant women.

At this time, pregnant women do not appear to be more severely unwell if they develop COVID-19 infection than the general population.

For women who are trying to conceive, or who are in early pregnancy, there is no evidence to suggest an increased risk of miscarriage with COVID-19.

There have been a handful of recent reports suggesting that the virus may pass from the mother to the baby (vertical transmission). However, this is very early, preliminary data, and has not been confirmed. There was no evidence of harm to the babies.

There is no evidence that cesarean section or induction of labor is necessary to reduce the risk of vertical transmission.

Some babies born to women with symptoms of COVID-19 have been born prematurely. It is unclear whether coronavirus caused these premature births, or whether it was recommended that the baby was born early for the benefit of the mother’s health and to enable her to recover.

At the moment there is no evidence that the virus is carried in breastmilk and, therefore, the well-recognized benefits of breastfeeding outweigh any potential risks of transmission of COVID-19 through breastmilk.

Healthy Diet Plant-Based Diet

What effect does coronavirus have on pregnant women?There is no evidence to show that pregnant women will be more severely unwell than other healthy adults if they develop coronavirus. It is expected that most pregnant women will experience mild or moderate cold or flu-like symptoms. Cough, fever, shortness of breath, headache, and loss of sense of smell are other relevant symptoms.

What can I do to reduce my risk of developing coronavirus?The most important thing you can do is to wash your hands regularly and effectively. Use soap and water and wash for at least 20 seconds.

As a precaution, you should follow government advice about social distancing, stay away from public places and avoid anyone who has symptoms suggestive of coronavirus. It is still considered necessary for pregnant women to go out for essentials, such as food shopping, exercise and to attend antenatal appointments.

If you are in your third trimester (more than 28 weeks’ pregnant) you should be particularly attentive to social distancing and minimise any contact with others.

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What if I can’t work from home?If you can’t work from home and you work in a public-facing role, talk to your employer about what steps can be taken to minimise your exposure.

If you are in your first or second trimester (less than 28 weeks pregnant), with no underlying health conditions, you should practise social distancing but can continue to work in a public-facing role, provided the necessary precautions are taken.

If you are in your third trimester (more than 28 weeks pregnant), or have an underlying health condition – such as heart or lung disease – you should work from home where possible, avoid contact with anyone with symptoms of coronavirus, and significantly reduce unnecessary social contact. Talk to your employer if you are in or approaching your third trimester.

Best Diets Weight loss Diet plans

What do I do if I think I have coronavirus?If you are pregnant and have either high temperature and/or a new, persistent cough, you should stay home for at least 7 days. Do not go to your GP surgery, pharmacist or hospital. You do not need to call NHS 111 to tell them that you are staying home.

You should let your midwife or maternity unit know about your symptoms, especially if you have any routine appointments in the next 7 days.

What can I do to protect myself from COVID-19?Practicing good hand and cough hygiene and avoiding people who have recently been overseas, if you can, are the best ways to avoid infection of COVID-19. It’s also important that everyone in your household and immediate family does the same. If you have other children, teach them about the importance of good hygiene and how and when to wash their hands.

wash your hands often with soap and water for 20 seconds, or use alcohol-based hand sanitizer (e.g. before and after eating, and after going to the toilet)

cover your coughs and sneezes with tissues and dispose of them straight away; wash your hands afterward

cough or sneeze into your (flexed) elbow

cough away from other people

stay more than 1.5 meters away from people when out in public, if possible

If you are currently working, you can ask your employer what they are doing to protect their staff. Many businesses are providing guidelines for how employees should behave in the workplace; for example, by encouraging good hygiene, limiting meetings, and giving staff the option to work from home.

You should also practice ‘social distancing’, which includes:

avoiding crowds and mass gatherings where it is hard to keep a reasonable distance from others (about 1.5m)

avoiding small gatherings in enclosed spaces

trying to keep 1.5m between you and other people where possible (for example, when out in public)

don’t shake hands, hug or kiss

stay away from vulnerable people, such as those in aged-care facilities or hospitals, babies or people with weakened immune systems

Looking after yourself in isolation

Everyone in Australia is being asked to stay at home unless you need to go out for essential reasons, like grocery shopping, medical appointments, or going to work. During this time, it’s important you still eat well and get some exercise to ensure a healthy pregnancy.

This is also a very stressful and worrying time for people and whether you are a first-time mum or already a parent, not having your usual support network around you can make it hard. Keep in touch with your family and friends through phone calls and videos and stay connected on social media with groups that can help support you during this time.

If you are struggling or need to talk to someone, there are a number of places you can go for support.

The simple lifestyle shifts in the Eat Sleep Burn ugly belly fat…

What happens if I get COVID-19 while I am pregnant?Women who get COVID-19 while they are pregnant are expected to experience mild to moderate symptoms, similar to having a cold or the flu. But because of the changes that happen to a woman’s body during pregnancy, your symptoms will be monitored very closely. Most women will make a full recovery without any risk to your unborn baby.

Can I pass on COVID-19 to my baby while I am pregnant?There have been some very recent cases that may suggest COVID-19 could be passed from mother to baby (called ‘vertical transmission’). However, this is still to be confirmed and is still in the early stages of being studied. Previous experience with other respiratory illnesses suggests your baby will not be harmed or at risk of any ongoing problems.

Should I still be going to my antenatal appointments?Having regular check-ups during your pregnancy is important to monitor the health of you and your baby. However, it is understandable that during this time you might be concerned about going to your GP or hospital. Before making any changes to your appointments, it’s important that you speak to your doctor first.

Your doctor may recommend less frequent visits if you and your baby are healthy, or they might be able to offer telehealth consultations (video call) for some of your appointments.

What should I do if I’m pregnant and recently returned from overseas?Anyone returning to Australia from any overseas country is required to isolate for 14 days. Providing you show no symptoms of being unwell after 14 days, you are free to carry on as usual. If you do show any signs of illness, call your doctor or the hospital where you plan to have your baby. Advise them of your symptoms and travel history and follow their instructions.

Health and Pregnancy

Pregnancy Tips on Health, Your Body

Preparing for A BabyWeight Loss Tips

Diet Guides

#Breast feeding diet health woman mother pregnancy weight loss women

[senakim22-blog]

[homoose]

Love Has a Learning Curve: Part III (x OC)

Summary: Spencer has to face Anita and Sam— and learns a little about Maggie’s past. Maggie and Spencer babysit for Michael and Henry. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Category: fluff, a tiny smidge of hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: implied smut, drinking/alcohol, vague mentions of previous emotional/mental abuse (Owen)

Word count: 4.2k

a/n: This picks up right after the end of the tmsidk epilogue! I also worked two requests in here.

Series Masterlist

———

Spencer stacked the last of the tiny chairs in the center of the room, stepping back and dusting his palms on his trousers. He looked over to see Maggie playing a sort of container tetris with the bins of supplies in her closet. He smiled a little to himself, his head still in the metaphorical clouds with her confession of love. 

She maneuvered the bins to her satisfaction and shut the closet doors, pushing against them to squeeze everything in until the latch clicked. She turned to see him watching her and wiped imaginary sweat from her brow. She gave him a wink and a grin, and he was falling all over again. 

She perched on the corner of her desk with a tired sigh, and he made his way across the room to her. She reached for him as soon as he was within arms length, wrapping her arms around his middle. She snuggled into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go to dinner to celebrate.”

She laughed and looked up at him. “Celebrate what?”

He shrugged. “You. Summer.” He brought his arms around her shoulders. “Love.”

She smiled and scrunched her nose at him. “You just want me to say it again.”

His lips twitched. “Maybe.”

Her hands came to rest on his hips, her fingers squeezing lightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he answered immediately and rather dreamily.

“Yo, Brooksy!” 

The call of her name from the hallway startled them both. Anita began to step over the threshold, continuing, “You ready to get absolutely crunk tonight or— oh.” She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes tracking Spencer’s frame. “Dr. Reid.”

Spencer stepped back from Maggie, smiling a little awkwardly at the formality and giving a wave. “Mrs. Lopez. It’s, um— it’s nice to see you again.”

Anita hummed noncommittally, and Spencer shoved his hands in his pockets. She turned her attention back to Maggie. “So, are we going out or what?”

Maggie groaned. “Anita, I’m exhausted. Can we keep it low key? Oh!” Her eyes lit up with an idea, and Spencer could already see where this was going. “Spence and I were gonna get dinner to celebrate, um— summer. Call Sam; we’ll all just go together.”

Anita spared a glance in Spencer’s direction before sighing heavily. “Fine. But I’m drinking.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the hallway.

Maggie chuckled. “I swear she’s not actually an alcoholic.” Her eyes landed on Spencer’s face, and she smiled gently. “I know you weren’t expecting a Meet the Friends night, but it’ll be fun.”

“She hates me,” Spencer surmised.

“She does not hate you.” Maggie stood from the desk, pressed a reassuring peck to his lips. “She’s just… protective. That’s all.”

…

Maggie was entirely wrong. Anita Lopez hated him. That was the only explanation for her absolutely icy demeanor. 

They’d met up with her and Sam at a Mexican restaurant in Tenleytown. Sam was wonderfully kind and funny, even apologizing for having “flipped him the bird” the last time she saw him. And it was a good thing Sam was being friendly, because Anita was decidedly… less so. 

Spencer understood completely of course. He’d broken Maggie’s heart. Penelope had been ready to hunt her down at the mere thought of him being hurt. As Maggie’s best friend, Anita had every right to be wary of him. She had every right to hate him. He’d just... hoped that she wouldn’t. 

Thankfully, Maggie and Sam were more than happy to carry the conversation— he and Anita chiming in here and there. He learned that Sam worked as an attorney at a firm specializing in family law. She and Anita had two kids, Riley and Sidney— one in 2nd grade and the other in preschool. 

“Maggie is still Riley’s favorite teacher ever,” Sam told him. “I mean, it helps when she’s also your aunt, I guess.”

“He didn’t get any special treatment,” Maggie insisted. At Sam’s raised eyebrow, she laughed. “Okay, maybe a little special treatment. But you raised a good kid! And I can’t help it that he was the most trustworthy of the bunch.”

“Oh my god, the field trip,” Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. 

“The field trip!” Maggie turned to Spencer. “My group of kiddos from two years ago— they were kind of a tough group.”

“Kind of?” Anita squeaked. “Let me just tell you, I can hear them through the floor. The entire middle school is literally dreading the day they make it upstairs.”

Sam piped in, “I chaperoned on said field trip to the zoo. And I vowed that I will never, ever go on another field trip. Ever.”

“What happened?” Spencer asked incredulously. 

“So many things,” Sam baited. 

Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a cackle, leaning a bit into Spencer’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking around at the three women. Even Anita was chuckling, and she’d barely cracked a smile all evening. 

“Okay, so many things happened,” Maggie started, “but the worst was—”

“The poop!” Sam wheezed. “The poop was the worst part of that day. The smell alone, oh my god.”

Maggie composed herself as best she could, gesturing over the table. “So after this nightmare of a day, we get on the bus, and there’s this— smell.”

“The absolute worst smell you’ve ever smelled, Spencer,” Sam assured. 

“It’s awful. It’s so bad,” Maggie agreed. “And I’m literally going seat to seat, checking to make sure no one has shit themselves.”

“You could not pay me enough,” Anita chimed in. 

“And I get to the seat that is very clearly where the smell is coming from. And I can’t, like— hold my nose, right? I don’t want to embarrass him!” Maggie turned to Spencer with flushed cheeks. “So I ask, ‘Sweetheart, did you have a bathroom accident?’”

Spencer let out a nervous laugh. “Oh no.” 

“But oh, it wasn’t a bathroom accident,” Maggie clarified, waving her hand. “No, no— that would be too easy. This child had somehow managed to obtain copious amounts of poop from one of the zoo animals and packed it into his lunchbox to take home.”

Spencer could feel his jaw drop. “Oh my god.”

“So, he unzips his lunchbox and it’s just— overflowing with shit.” Maggie dropped her head into her hands, overcome with giggles. 

“And don’t forget the worst part: his mom was on the field trip!” Sam lamented, throwing her hands up. “I will never understand.”

Maggie lifted her head with an exasperated grin, and he wasn’t sure if it was the story or the fact that she loved him, but Spencer felt like he could float away into outer space. 

“I told you I had a lot of poop stories,” Maggie lamented to him, drawing another round of laughs. As they composed themselves, the waiter came by their table to clear some of their plates and refill their water.

“God, I said we were keeping it low key, and then I drank half a pitcher,” Maggie complained, pushing back from the table. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” 

She gave Spencer a reassuring smile, and he tried not to panic as she stood and left him with Sam and Anita. And because the universe was toying with him, at that exact moment, Sam’s phone began to ring. She pulled it from her pocket with a sigh. 

“Shit— I’ve been waiting on this call all day.” She kissed Anita’s cheek and stood from the table. “So sorry; I’ll just be five minutes, I promise.”

With that, it was just the two of them, staring intently at their water glasses. Spencer was certain he should say something, but he wasn’t sure what. Anita broke the silence first. 

“You know what’s annoying?”

Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “Considering that the issues one might classify as an annoyance vary for each individual person, there are over seven billion potential answers to that question.”

Anita tilted her head with an unimpressed purse of her lips. Spencer hedged, “And I understand now that it was probably rhetorical.”

“I actually kind of like you.” She leaned across the table with an irritated sigh. “I wanted to hate you, but I don’t.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, um— I’m glad to hear that.”

“You’re good for her. Smart, humble, kind. Enamored with her, as you should be,” she deadpanned. She dropped her chin into her hand. “Almost as hot as she is.”

He laughed a little at that. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She dropped her hand back to the table. She still didn’t crack a smile, and her gaze bore into him. “I don’t know how much you know about Owen, and she’d probably kill me for saying anything. But he was a real piece of shit.”

This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take. He didn’t know anything about Owen; he’d tried not to think too much about anyone Maggie might have been with before him. 

“It didn’t start out that way.” She drew her brows together. “Well, I don’t know— maybe he was always an asshole, and he was just good at hiding it.”

She shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “The point is, I didn’t know he was treating her like garbage until it was too late. He was already all…” She gestured wildly around her head. “In her head, telling her lies about herself, fucking her up, isolating her. For years he did that. And then it took her years to get him out of her head. To— unlearn all the lies. To build herself back up.” 

He could see her grinding her teeth, trying to calm down. He was intensely grateful to not be on the receiving end of Anita’s wrath. He was also immensely glad that Maggie had a friend like that. And his blood absolutely boiled at the thought of her ever feeling anything less than adored. 

“You’re a fed or whatever, so I shouldn’t be telling you this,” she continued, “but I would love nothing more than to put that fucker six feet under.” She ran her hand through her hair, and when she continued her voice was the quietest he’d ever heard it. “All that to say, I… I wasn’t there for her when Owen was destroying her from the inside out. And I will never let that happen again.” 

Anita locked eyes with him and her voice was resolved. “I like you, Spencer. And I want to keep it that way. So, just— don’t give me a reason not to.”

She didn’t drop her gaze, and he couldn’t quite think of the appropriate response. He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. His brain was still fixated on the idea that anyone had ever hurt the loveliest and kindest woman he’d ever met.

 “Where’s Sam?” Spencer turned just as Maggie slid back into the chair beside him, a comforting hand coming to rest on his knee. 

“Some bullshit from the office that her idiot partner can’t handle.” Anita raised her eyebrows at Spencer, and he nodded minutely. She shifted her gaze back to Maggie with a grin. “Don’t worry. I didn’t scare him too much.”

…

“Easy.” Spencer steadied Maggie with a hand on her waist as they made the way up the stairs to his apartment. 

“Jesus, I’m so sorry. I just— really can’t drink like I used to.” She clutched a little at the railing, and he held his breath until they were at the top of the stairs. 

He slipped an arm back around her waist as they crossed to his apartment door, fumbling with his keys and fighting back a shiver as she snuggled close and ran her hand low over his tummy. 

“Can’t believe I’m tipsy from a couple margaritas.”

“To be fair, you had four,” he chuckled, turning the key and pushing open the door. 

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “But I used to be able to have a whole pitcher and be totally fine.”

“A pitcher?” Spencer laughed as he locked the door and turned to face her. “I can’t even have one without being completely incapacitated.”

She ran her hands up from his waistband, over his chest, and wrapped them around his neck. “Mmm, so you’re a lightweight.”

“Very much so,” he confirmed, bringing his hands to her hips. 

“Just one more sweet thing to love about you, sugar.” 

He couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face at the endearment, the way that North Carolina dripped syrupy and thick over every syllable. She pulled him down to meet her in a sweet kiss, quickly deepening it as he dug his fingers into the softness of her hips. Her hands wound into his hair, tugging lightly and holding him close. 

He broke away to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. She laced their fingers together and leaned on him while she kicked off her shoes. He toed his own off and then allowed her to lead him toward his bedroom. 

She sat him down on the edge of the bed and straddled his lap, bringing her hands up to tangle in his curls once again. 

Before she could lean in for another kiss, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds dangerous,” she teased, ghosting her lips over his.

“Ha, ha.” Part of him wanted to bring up Owen, but she was so happy and warm and comfortable in this moment. He didn’t want to ruin this night of celebration. He didn’t want to ruin this day that had been so full of love. They had plenty of time to discuss Owen. 

He wrapped his arms around her middle. “You’ve met Penelope. I’ve met Anita. Now that the school year is over… we could tell Michael.”

She pulled back, and the smile she gave him could only be described as radiant, and he knew he made the right decision. “He’s gonna lose his mind.”

…

A week later, the pair of them were strolling up the sidewalk to the LaMontagne house. Will and JJ were long overdue for a date night, and Spencer had jumped at the opportunity for the two of them to babysit. When they reached the door, Spencer rang the bell and Maggie waited slightly behind him. 

They could hear the joy from behind the door before it even opened, Michael’s high pitched giggle and Will’s booming laugh. Spencer was already leaning down in preparation, and Michael absolutely launched into his arms as soon as the door swung open. Spencer clocked the moment that Michael spotted her, purely because he practically squealed and squirmed right out of Spencer’s grip. 

“I knew it!” Michael cried. 

He wrapped himself around Maggie’s legs and squeezed tightly, and she rubbed a hand over his hair with a bewildered smile. Michael broke away to turn back to Will with a grin. “I told you.”

“You did, buddy.” Will gave Spencer a lopsided smile as Michael tugged Maggie forward by the hand. “Michael had an… inklin’ that uncle Spencer might be friends with Ms. Brooks.”

“Not friends, Daddy,” Michael said exasperatedly. “He’s her boyfriend.”

“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” Will held his hands up in apology as he stepped aside to let them all in the door. “Michael had a feelin’ that uncle Spencer might be Ms. Brooks’ boyfriend.”

Maggie’s cheeks had turned a very pretty shade of pink. “What— um, what made you think that?” 

Michael waited patiently for her to take off her shoes. “Well firstly, he started picking me up all the time, which was nice but weird. And then he wouldn’t stop asking about you. It was kind of annoying.” Spencer made a choking sound, and Will stifled a laugh. 

“You guys wear the same shoes, and you both love Halloween and tea and reading. I knew you’d like him if he could be a guest reader.” As he led her into the living room, Michael continued, “Oh, and you wore his purple scarf. He doesn’t let anyone wear the purple scarf.”

Spencer vividly remembered that morning— she’d slept over after a midweek date night in April. The temperatures in DC had plummeted overnight, and the outfit she’d brought left her woefully under-dressed for the chilly spring day. He’d wrapped her up in the soft, purple scarf without a second thought. 

She caught his eye with a shrug, and Will tried not to look too smug. Spencer watched her be dragged further into the house, turning to Will with a sheepish smile.

“Well, guess I can’t take all the credit,” Will decided. “Who knew we had a mini matchmaker this whole time?”

Spencer huffed out a laugh as Michael pulled Maggie into the playroom. “This is the best,” Michael sighed. “Now we can play restaurant forever.”

…

Spencer pulled his legs up in the tiny chair, resting his elbows on his knees and taking a moment to watch the scene in front of him unfold. Usually on nights like this, Michael ran him ragged with demands for magic tricks, story time, and playing pretend. Tonight, he’d actually been able to catch up with middle school (middle school!) Henry, because Michael was totally and completely enthralled by Maggie. 

She was helping with the last of the setup for the “restaurant,” organizing Michael’s menus and straightening his clip-on tie. Of course he’d seen her with kids before. But something about being in this playroom— one that he’d spent so many hours in, watching two of his favorite kids grow up— had him feeling warm from head to toe. 

Henry had bounded down the stairs at the news that uncle Spencer was dating his former kindergarten teacher. He hadn’t realized that she’d taught Henry, too, although with the timeline of her teaching career he should have put two and two together. The generally reserved middle schooler had positively beamed when she gasped out, “Gosh, I always forget how tall you’ve gotten!”

And now three of his absolute favorite humans were in one room, and he couldn’t stop smiling. 

“Hen!” Michael called. 

Henry turned from his spot in the chair across from Spencer. “What?”

“You’re the chef,” Michael informed him. 

Maggie tilted her head. “I thought I was the chef?”

“No, no, no.” Michael pushed her toward the kid-sized table. “You and uncle Spencer are on a fancy date.”

Henry rolled his eyes playfully and stood from the chair, pulling it out for her like a perfect gentleman. She beamed at him and gave him a wink. “Thank you, sir.”

She dropped lightly into the chair across from Spencer and laughed a little at his folded limbs. “You look very comfortable.” 

He laughed and stretched his legs out straight. “The picture of comfort, really. These chairs were clearly designed with six foot men in mind.”

“I’m sorry I’m so under-dressed for our fancy dinner date,” she teased, dropping her chin into her hand. 

“You look stunning, as always.” He gestured to the messy braid Michael had folded her hair into. “I especially love what you’re doing with your hair.”

She sucked in a dramatic breath, bringing up her hand to pat lightly at her hair. “You’re making me blush, doctor.” She peeked behind her and then lowered her voice. “I’m probably going to cry when I try to brush the rats out.” 

He looked at her sympathetically. “I know the feeling. I think I’ve got a wide tooth comb, and I can help. I’ve gotten pretty good at detangling Michael’s handiwork.”

Before she could respond, Michael made his way to the table, holding a dish towel over his arm. “Good evening, sir, madam.” 

“Good evening,” they chorused, with barely suppressed grins. 

“Compliments of the chef.” Michael held out his hand to reveal two slightly smushed strawberries.

“Oh, wow,” Maggie said, eyes wide and gesturing to Spencer. “Honey, do you want to—”

Spencer waved his hand, eyeing the berries warily. “No, no, please, help yourself.”

Maggie held back a smile and accepted the strawberries, holding them carefully in her hand and turning her attention back to Michael. “Thank you so much. What a wonderful appetizer. Could we hear the specials?”

That helped Michael remember the menus, and he pulled them from his pocket and cleared his throat. He handed them the construction paper menus. “Our specials tonight are roasted octopus and a steak tartar.”

From the kitchen, Henry mumbled, “Tartare.” 

“Tartare. Steak tartare is our special,” Michael corrected. 

“Hmm, I don’t know if I’m that adventurous. Maybe my boyfriend is though,” Maggie told a grinning Michael. “What do you recommend for a picky eater?”

“My favorite is the chicken nuggets.”

“Well then, sign me up. One order of chicken nuggets.” Maggie handed him the menu. 

Spencer was still perusing the menu for Le Chateau LaMontagne. He smiled at Michael’s handwriting, but particularly at the places where he could tell Maggie had helped. “Everything looks delicious,” he finally decided, “but, you know... I think I’m also going to have the nuggets.”

…

When the boys were finally in bed, Spencer and Maggie settled down in the living room to untangle the mess of her hair. She sat on the floor in between his legs as he gently pulled each braid strand free. He smiled at the way she arched up into his touch, shivering when his fingers brushed over her neck. 

“You’re lucky,” he remarked, laying the last braid strand back into its original place. “Michael seems to have gotten a little better at braiding.”

She leaned her head back into his hands. “You detangled the whole thing?”

“Mmhm.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her mouth. She brought her hands up to hold him against her, trying to deepen the kiss before laughing at the awkward angle and giving up. 

He sat up as she stood and moved to the couch, snuggling up close to him and tucking herself under his arm. “I’m very lucky,” she agreed. “For many reasons.”

Her hand drifted to rest on his tummy, her fingers immediately tracing little shapes over the fabric of his shirt. He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And tired, too.”

“Hmm?” 

He leaned his cheek against her head. “When you get tired, you, um— you start drawing on my stomach.” 

Her finger paused. “Do I?”

“Yeah.” She shifted to raise her head to look at him, and he shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’ve just— noticed.”

She smiled a little sleepily. “You know I love all of you. But I— well, I don’t know, really. I just like your tummy.” She gave it a quick squeeze. “It’s just— nice and comfy and perfect for resting on.” 

He covered her hand with his own and leaned forward to press their mouths together. She drew his bottom lip in between her own, sucking a little and then giving it a quick peck before pulling back and stifling a yawn into his chest. “Man, I am tired.” She snuggled back into him and resumed her tummy tracing. “What, um— what else have you noticed?”

He rubbed his hand down her arm and pulled her impossibly closer. “You like to play with my hair.”

“Mmmm, guilty as charged.”

He smiled at the sleep creeping into her voice. “I like it, too.” He ran his fingers up to her shoulder, and then back down to the crook of her arm, soothing her closer to sleep. “Hmmmm. You always have at least one point of contact on my body at all times. It’s usually your hands, but sometimes it’s your head or even your toes— like when you tuck them under my leg.”

“Ugh— I’m sorry. Clingy and putting my feet on you,” she mumbled.

She might have been joking, but Anita’s words were replaying in his head. He couldn’t change what had happened in the past. He couldn’t go back and prevent her from being hurt by someone else. But he could be different in every way. He could be open and honest and vulnerable with her like he’d promised. 

“I’m not sorry. I love all of you,” he murmured, pulling her in closer and repeating her words back to her. 

“Even my feet?” 

He could also show her that there was absolutely nothing that he didn’t love about her. “Especially your feet.”

She huffed a sigh into his chest. “Y’got a foot thing I don’t know about?”

He laughed a little at that. “Only for yours. They’re very cute feet.”

“You’re weird,” she muttered, but she hugged him tighter when she said it.

“You love it.”

Her fingers on his tummy had come to rest comfortably just above his waistband, and he knew she was on the very edge of sleep. “Mmhm. Love you.”

He thought of all the little moments over the past few months.

Doesn’t live up to expectations? Sorry for overstepping. Are we dating? Sorry for being clingy. Sorry for taking so long to tell you. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

“I love you, too,” he murmured. “So much.”

———

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Series tags (x OC): @kyomito​

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #homoose writes

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: This was painful to write. If you don’t do well with angst, I recommend skipping this chapter. BUT - there is a happy ending!

Chapter 30

  “Ah, there you are. We’ve been waiting. Now, before you try anything, I have fail-safes in place in case you try and stop me, and they all end in tragedy. Like this nasty little explosive underneath their chairs, for instance.”

  You stood frozen to the spot, trembling with fear, and not an inkling of it for yourself.

  “Don’t… Don’t do this.”

  “Not to worry, my sweet. With the help of your data, I’ve been able to streamline the process. Theoretically, I should be able to directly transfer powered cells from Marcus into his daughter. The familial DNA should help alleviate any foreign-cell attacks. Though, I’m afraid it will still be painful.”

  “My data? Someone’s been feeding you my medical information?”

  “Oh, yes. I don’t think you realise just how many people in this world are interested in levelling the playing-field. I mean, how’d you think I got out of prison?”

  While he spoke, he made the final calculations to start his experiment, and as the machines started whirring and clicking, your fear escalated into full-blown panic.   They were both unconscious, for the time being, but you knew that once the pain started, they’d be forced awake. You didn’t actually remember that from your own experience with this experiment, but you still knew that it was true.   You sneaked a ghost hand towards one of the machines and unhooked a tube that was connected to Missy’s arm, at the other end, trying to buy time.   The machine started beeping to indicate that something was wrong.

  “Now, now, sweetie. Don’t go sabotaging this, or your precious family might not come out of it quite as alright as both of us would like.”

  As he walked over to reconnect the tube, he tapped on something on his belt, and you recognised an identical device to what the Inventor had used to protect himself against powers. Someone in HQ had betrayed you all, and the feeling burned through you with an aftertaste of hate.

  “My family are not your fucking toys!”

  The room shook significantly, and he looked around with real wonder in his eyes.

  “That’s impressive. See, didn’t I give you a wonderful gift?”

  “No. I would’ve preferred to stay ordinary and dull for the rest of my life if it had meant not having to live through that shit.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that? Look at where you are. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t taken you. You should be more grateful.”

  “I do see where I am, and I would rather have never met them at all, if it meant they were spared from this.”

  “People are inherently selfish, which is why I don’t believe you. Now, let’s get started. And a word of warning, my dear – if you disrupt the process once it’s already started, you’ll kill them both. And I doubt if you could bring both of them back from the dead without killing yourself.”

  He hit a button on the computer keypad, and the Machine connected to Marcus came alive, and started siphoning out powered cells from his blood-stream.   He woke up after just a few seconds, unable to move at all, and you could see the pain in his eyes.   Helpless to do anything else, you reached out to him with your ghost energy, trying to let him know that you were there and that you were trying to save him. You could feel him trying to use his powers, but the machine disrupted it, and caused him even more pain.

  “Please, stop!”

  The second machine, the one connected to Missy, started whirring and moving, and your blood instantly flipped from freezing to boiling.   You couldn’t stand the thought of her even knowing this amount of pain, much less being forced to suffer it, for god knows how long.   And as she woke up, and that pain became visible in her eyes, something old and sure and endlessly powerful took over your mind.   There wasn’t a single thought, not so much as an echo of anything rational or logical or sensible. The maternal instinct was all-powerful in a way that nothing else could compare to. And the power it created together with your abilities, was beyond belief.   The house disappeared, and so did Dr. Prince and all of his equipment, and you could feel the moment that both Marcus and Missy’s hearts stopped beating.   But it didn’t frighten you, because you were a healer.   Moving up to crouch in between them, where they now laid on the bare ground, you took one of their hands in each one of yours, and exchanged your life for theirs.   You had hoped to be able to stay alive long enough to see their faces one last time, but the energy required to heal them, combined with what you’d already spent, was too much, and you needed the single grain you had left, for one last thing. One small, but so very important thing.   You fell away without seeing anything but the blue sky above you.

  It was okay, though. They were worth it.

 ***

  Marcus was working in his office when Missy came to find him. It had been a long day, and he was so tired he could have fallen asleep sitting up.   But he knew that even if he were to lay down in a soft and cool bed right then, he still wouldn’t have succumbed to that blissful nothingness.   He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time, since the incident, and he was long past exhausted.

  “Dad, are you coming?”

  She came to get him every day after school. She had for the past month, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her not to.

  “Yeah. I’ll be right there, sweetheart.”

  She turned and headed off to medical, and he got up to follow her. A part of him wanted to turn around and run in the opposite direction. A part of him wanted to never have to set foot in that fucking room again.   But that was just the fear. The love was so much stronger, and it relentlessly dragged him back there, day and night, no matter how badly it hurt.

  Missy was already hopped up on the bed, sitting cross-legged by your feet, when he walked in. She was so hopeful still. So positive. All Marcus could feel was pain.   Every time he saw you, he saw those moments. Those short, few seconds that had taken everything away.   He’d seen it in your eyes just before your power erupted. The complete lack of thought as your mind reverted to pure instinct, to protect your daughter. His daughter.   He’d seen how you’d dispatched the entire house, and everything that threatened your family, into one of the dimensions that you had access to, a feat that had almost completely drained you.   Then, he’d woken up to seeing you fall, and in his heart, he’d known that you couldn’t be saved. Not this time. But he’d still tried. He’d tried so hard that Missy had eventually been forced to be the one to beg him to stop before she lost him too.   He’d never screamed so loud for so long before.   And yet, somehow, that still hadn’t been the worst part.   That had come the next morning, when medical had informed him that you’d been examined that day because of nausea, and that they’d discovered that you were pregnant. The timeframe had matched that day in his office, when your bodies had reacted so differently, and you’d cried out of pure love for him.   It had broken parts of him that he had never even known before.

  He walked silently to your side, and took your burned right hand between his. He tried not to look at your face, and the tube that disappeared down your throat, the slight blue tinge to your eyelids, and the way your skin hugged your collarbones.   When the team had reached the disappeared house, they’d wasted no time in getting the three of you back to HQ, and you’d been rushed here immediately. They’d found residual brain-activity, and the decision had been made to keep you alive artificially, in case your powers had somehow been able to protect you. In case you could have found a way to cling to some thread of life and hold on until your strength could be returned.   There had been no change in your condition since that day, and if it hadn’t been for Missy, he would’ve already asked them to just let you rest in peace.

  “Hey, alma. We’re here. So, today’s story comes from Noodles. He managed to get out-witted by a squirrel, and it is too funny not to share.”

  She told you one story every day. Something that had happened during her day that she knew you would’ve wanted to hear about, and would’ve listened animatedly to, before enthusiastically sharing your thoughts about it.   Marcus didn’t hear the stories. He came and sat with her while she talked, because that’s what she’d asked him to do, but for him, being there wasn’t about hope. It was about survival. He didn’t want to hope, didn’t want to give himself that potentially crushing second wave of loss. But he also needed to see you. He needed you, and no amount of pain could crush that feeling.   Since they didn’t have a home anymore, they were living at HQ during the weeks, because it was closer to Missy’s school than Anita’s house. But they still stayed with her over the weekends.   Marcus made Missy dinner every evening, and sat with her to help her with homework or watch some show before she went to sleep, trying to keep her life as close to normal as these circumstances would permit.   But as soon as she fell asleep, he came right back here, curled up next to you on the bed and cried until there were no more tears, and sleep forced itself over him.

  This night was no exception. He walked in on legs that were impossibly heavy, refusing to look at the machines and the tubes, focusing on your hands and the parts of your skin that were bare and unbroken by needles.   It was so strange that your body was unharmed, that there wasn’t a mark on you to signify the violence and destructive nature of that incident. You were still perfect, even in death.   Wrapping one arm over your chest, careful not to disturb the breathing apparatus, he took his usual place on your left side, burrowed his face into your neck and breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo.   He was so tired that the tears fell without the laboured breathing, or shockwaves of grief rocking his body, the way it usually did. He just laid there, completely drained of will and hope and desire, waiting for the restless, nightmarish sleep that would inevitably drag him under.   A sudden incessive beeping of one of the machines, tried to gripe at his attention. He closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into your neck, certain that if he turned his head towards it, all it would tell him would be that the time had come. That your body had finally weakened to the point where not even artificially sustained organs was enough to keep you there.   He hadn’t wanted to hope, and he’d thought that he didn’t have any left, but as he laid there and waited for the machines to declare your final departure – he realised that he had. A small part of him had clung to some imagined scenario where you could’ve somehow clawed your way back, and now that part was dying with you.   It felt as though someone had shrunk his lungs. He struggled to draw in more than tiny gulps of air, and his arm involuntarily tightened around you, pulling you into his chest, as though your lifeless body could somehow free him.

  A hand found his arm, and held it lightly, but he didn’t look up to see who it was that was trying to soothe him. He didn’t want to be soothed, he wanted to drift off into the nothingness with you.   But then the doors to the room opened, and he could hear it. So, why hadn’t he heard the person that was holding his arm, when they entered?

  “Oh, my god… Marcus, look.”

  It was one of the twins, and the tone of her voice made something inside of him wake up.   He pulled his head away from your neck, and the first thing he saw was your hand, holding his arm. The touch was light because it was weak, not soothing.   Not daring to believe it, he moved his arm, so he could take your hand, and when you squeezed it, ever so faintly, he fell apart.   He sobbed and hugged you, and tried to tell you how much he loved you and how grateful he was, but the shudders and trembles that kept coursing through him made it all garbled up and unintelligible.   He never heard the twins working around you, never felt them change the equipment, after they’d removed the breathing machine, and made sure that you could breathe on your own, before pulling the tubes out of your throat.   He didn’t notice Anita and Missy walk in, however much time later, but he felt them hug him, and he wanted to thank them, to tell them how much he loved them too, but the relief was so overwhelming that all he could manage was grunts and sobs.

  They let him cry himself into absolute exhaustion. He was so tired that it didn’t take long. He fell asleep still cradling you to his chest, and they didn’t have the heart to lift him out of the bed.

***

  A couple of days later, Marcus was sitting on the side of your bed, just staring at you while you ate.   You had to eat carefully and slowly, since your throat was still sore from the tube, but you were already strong enough to sit up in the bed, and eat by yourself.   You’d been expressly forbidden from trying to speak, until your throat was less swollen and irritated, or you might permanently damage your vocal cords. But it didn’t bother you. You and Marcus knew each other so well that your eyes and expressions were enough to let you know what the other was thinking. And Missy was enjoying getting the opportunity to blab incessantly without you being able to stop her with a well-placed quip.   You knew that big conversations would have to be had, in the near future, and while you could feel how nervous and anxious Marcus was about that, you really weren’t. There were things you needed to tell him, things you needed to try and help him understand, but none of it was bad. Not from your perspective, at least.

  You finished eating, and took a few long and slow sips of water. You could tell that there was something on Marcus’ mind, and when you put the glass down, you shot him a look to say ‘tell me’, and he sighed.

  “It’s not… I don’t wanna talk about it until you can actually talk to me.”

  You just kept giving him the same look, crossing your arms in front of your chest to let him know that you weren’t leaving the subject alone any time soon. Whatever this was, it was causing the wrinkle in between his eyebrows to deepen, a clear sign that it was something that hurt him, and he’d been hurting for so long already, it was time for him to start getting some of it out.   He saw your persistence, and he knew you weren’t gonna let it go. His eyes dropped to his own hands in his lap, and he took a minute to consider how to phrase it.

  “They told me… about the… baby.”

  His eyes were still downcast, so he didn’t see your face soften, or your eyes turn warm. But you wanted him to keep talking, so you made no effort to get his attention yet.

  “And I know that you did what you did to save us, and that you couldn’t have made it a priority right then, and I don’t blame you for doing what you had to. I just can’t help but think… what if that was it?”

  His hands were trembling slightly, but you couldn’t tell if it was with sadness or fear. His voice seemed so small.

  “What if that was our only chance? I’ve never felt the kind of… loss… that I felt when they told me that. The loss of what could have been, of the possibility. And I just…”

  He took a deep breath.

  “I had no idea how much I wanted that baby, until it was already gone.”

  He finally looked up at you, and blinked a couple of times with confusion as he took in your expression. Because you weren’t sad. You were smiling.   You picked up the notepad Amaire had left you for answering medical questions, and scribbled down the few words required to explain yourself, before turning it around to show him.

  --The baby is safe—

  You watched his eyes as he read those words, staring at them for several seconds as though he couldn’t understand them. And then his eyes snapped back to yours and there were a million questions in them, but he had no idea where to start or probably even what most of those questions were yet.   So, he just kissed you instead, and the depth of emotion that he poured into that kiss, had you both in tears.

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[lovemesomerafael]

Destroying The Planet To Save It   Chapter 23:  Kind Of A Douche

  Chapters 1-20   Chapter 21  Chapter 22  Read It On AO3

Jarman Arias stood fondling his machine as it emitted its sickly green light.  He hated that he had to rely on the foul green orbs he purchased at an obscene cost from a lowlife who’d smuggled them to Earth from the outlaw markets inside Knowhere.  Arias didn’t know the origin of the orbs, which was fine with him. The less he knew about the alien crystals he’d had to contaminate himself with to get what he wanted, the better.  At least he’d made sure that lowlife smuggler didn’t live to enjoy his profit.  The poor fool was one of the very first to be used in a test of the machine.  Arias remembered the satisfaction he felt, listening to the man’s screams.  It was fit punishment for a traitor to the human race, dealing with dirty rabble from some inferior world.  

Arias clenched his fists in rage at the idea of those filthy Asgardian vermin, whom he particularly hated.  Treading Terran soil as though they didn’t defile it, with their glowing stones and their pomposity and their ridiculous costumes.   At least now, they would never be able to return.  Nor would the real evil: those malparido, gonorrea Chitauri.  

Arias had been in New York the day the Chitauri came.  He had been inside a building, hadn’t even been on the street. He’d been sitting at a large, beautiful table in the hushed, very well-appointed offices of one of his investment bankers.  He should have been safe.  But the nightmarish, insectoid creatures with machine parts obscenely grafted into their bodies had poured through a hole in the sky, riding some sort of hovering chariots, invading and rampaging at will through the city.  And the Avengers?  The Avengers had protected no one.  The Avengers had been part of the problem.  Their wholly destructive – and entirely ineffectual – frenzy of violence had only made things much, much worse.  Arias believed it was Thor – another beastly invader – who had hurled that glorified mallet of his into the side of the very building where Arias had been cowering, watching with horror as monsters filled the skies.  

A hole five stories high had opened up in the building, leaving Arias kneeling only a few feet from open air, seventy floors above the street. And one of those repulsive reptiles had driven its chariot-thing, with the corpse of its accomplice still onboard, into the very room where Arias clung to the base of the massive table.  He’d been too afraid to scream.  He had lost control of his bowels and bladder, and could only weep in near-catatonic terror.  

Several more invaders had passed the hole in the building, making a noise that still haunted Arias, as the Chitauri beast had dismounted and begun to move toward him.  Arias whimpered and drooled, knowing that he had seconds to live before the thing devoured him.  Suddenly, his eyes had been drawn to movement behind the creature as that tawdry, red-and-gold electrified tin man blasted one of the flying chariots with his laser beams or whatever the hell they were.  The chariot cartwheeled into the building, very near the giant hole that bastard Thor had made, shattering on impact.  Shards of hot metal and some sort of burning liquid sprayed into the room.  The Chitauri that had been menacing Arias was… How to describe the horrifying sight of the hideous body being torn apart by the fragmented craft, limbs flying and a large hunk of torso landing in Arias’s lap?  

But that hadn’t been the worst part.  The worst part was the disgusting, putrid sludge the creatures apparently called blood, which had spewed from his severed carcass all over Arias, entering his eyes, his nose, his mouth...  Even now, recalling that moment and the vile, rotten stench, Arias retched and had to force himself not to vomit.

He hadn’t been rescued.  Not one of the Avengers, the so-called heroes of the day, had tried to help.  Instead, he remembered seeing that jumped-up clown who called himself Captain America, presumptuously directing the pitiful feint at clean-up afterward.  And then the Avengers, those disgraceful, insolent, unspeakably arrogant pendejos, had simply gone home to their skyscraper.  

Arias swore violently, his voice rumbling deep in his chest with the primal rage he felt remembering his horror and helplessness on that day.  It would not happen again.  

He turned quickly away from the machine, his purple cape swirling around him, and stalked out of the room toward the lower levels.  He wanted to check on his guests.  Very important guests, actually.  Now he smiled with the conceit of a feral cat watching its morally wounded prey writhe under its paw.  

He hadn’t even had the idea to “invite” his guests until they, themselves suggested it. But once he had learned that S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers, and the United States government all knew of his machines, he knew he had to do something.  And when he’d learned that the lovely Anita Herrera, with whom he had been so intrigued, was actually a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, he’d been furious. That had, of course, led him to realize that he would not be enjoying the prestige of employing The Falcon as he’d dreamed, because he had to assume that Sam Wilson was a spy, too.  

The idea of the Avengers doing something so ignominious as acting as bodyguards at the Presidential event had always seemed suspicious to him.  So he’d set some of his staff to doing research and headed off to his villa for a relaxing weekend.  The research team had reviewed the surveillance from the bunker on the night of the tornado, and found footage of beautiful Anita creeping around.  Which, of course, had led to a review of the video surveillance of the villa.  

Arias had very much enjoyed some of the video of Anita and Sam in their room. But he had decidedly not enjoyed the footage of Anita searching his office, and discovering the ancient implements in their padded drawer, not to mention the robes he was currently wearing.

Arias had considered being ashamed by the fact that he, himself, had been in the room and missed Anita’s covert search on the night of the tornado. He had also actually invited the spies to his own villa.  But he was not a security guard.  Those were not his failures.  

Then, when he’d investigated further, he had learned of the red-haired infiltrator who had been allowed not only to enter his facility, but to wander about unescorted!  His guards had fallen for the very simplest of ruses and, worse, had tried to hide from him what they’d done.  That level of unprofessionalism, of course, could not be tolerated.  He had simply killed the other guards responsible for that breach, but he needed to set an example.  Santiago Cárdenas had therefore been the resource who piloted the machine that created the earthquake in Washington D.C.  

Still, Arias hadn’t had the idea of “inviting” his guests until Anita Herrera, supposedly a well-regarded S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, had contacted him to suggest they meet.  He had wondered what to do about her and Sam Wilson, but when she agreed to simply walk into a restaurant to offer herself to him?  The idea had sprung into his mind fully-formed.  He had enjoyed their dinner together, watching her spout her transparent lies and try to seduce him.  And afterward, he had decided that it was time to utilize his access to the so-called most powerful man in the world.  That had actually been somewhat disappointing, really.  Arias had simply called his operative in the White House and the pitiful little President had been brought to him almost immediately, like ordering a pizza.  

The two would die, of course, as would Sam Wilson.  But not before they got him what he wanted.  Because he would never, ever, be made to cower again.  He had started with intentions of the purest altruism.  All he wanted to do was protect the Earth.  Of course, none of his top echelon of advisers had supported him in that.  They had always argued that he should announce his mastery to the world, be acknowledged for his power, and be rewarded accordingly. He always replied had not done his work for that.  But now they had forced his hand, tried to destroy one of his facilities, and were once again imperiling the world with their reckless stupidity.  So they would pay the price.  How did these fools, who courted invasion with their own wildly irresponsible actions, dare to stand against the only man who could defend the planet?  

Arias was deeply, venomously angry.  He allowed his rage to flow like lava through his chest.  He was in control now, and he would keep the world safe from further violation.  By either alien infestation, or these smug, imperious children who called themselves by the hopelessly vainglorious name of the Avengers.  

He left the room where his beautiful machine hummed, striding the short distance down the corridor to the end, where it took a sharp right turn.  This was the very lowest level of the facility.  At the end of the hallway, there was a wider space, and at the back of that space, a door.  Guards stood on either side of that door, although there was really no need. For one thing, there was no way to open that door from the inside.  And for another, only Arias and his most trusted lieutenant had the key.  

He wanted very much to go into the room, to talk with his guests.  He had toyed with the idea of having Anita brought to him, to enjoy her before she piloted the machine.  He had no hope that S.H.I.E.L.D. will see reason, of course. He knew that, when he declared himself and demanded that S.H.I.E.L.D. acknowledge him, deliver Sam Wilson to him, and imprison all of the other Avengers and their allies, S.H.I.E.L.D. would refuse. That pompous fool Coulson had enjoyed just enough minor success that he would imagine himself and his organization able to deny Arias what he demanded.  

Which meant that Anita, alas, would have to be sacrificed.  She would be the resource that would pilot the machine to destroy Washington D.C.  But he hoped that, once that lesson has been taught, the United States would see reason and capitulate to save their President and avoid further destruction.  Once America, that boastful, swaggering giant, was under his thumb, of course, surrender by the rest of the world was only a matter of time.

Arias stood tall, looking contemptuously at the screen that showed Anita Herrera sitting ungracefully on the floor, the President next to her resting against a wall, leaning weakly against her.  He appeared to have regained consciousness, but he did not look well. Arias smiled.  What a foolish man, to think that he had power, to think that he was any match for the Custodian of the planet.  

It was time.  Arias swept out of the area outside the holding room and strode back up the corridor, past the room where his machine glowed and purred as its caretakers tended to it. He entered the crowded control room, pleased to hear an awed hush precede him as he crossed to the center.  

He nodded to the technician who had been awaiting his arrival, and the technician flicked a switch.  Just like that, Jarman Arias, the Custodian, was broadcasting on every screen in the world currently powered up and connected to any cable television system, any streaming service, or any internet site.  

“I am the Custodian of this planet,” he began ponderously.  “It is my role to protect her, and you, from invasion from outside.  I will protect Earth, and her people.  And my first step in doing so is to remove those who would aid alien species to attack us, people who have betrayed their own kind, and will do so again, if allowed.  I am talking about S.H.I.E.L.D., and those abominations who call themselves the Avengers.”

 “Man, this guy’s kind of a douche,” Clint whispered to Natasha as they watched from their assigned position.  

 “I have two guests here in the facility where I am currently located.”  Arias signaled the technician, who touched a screen that switched the video being broadcast.  All those screens were now seeing Anita and the President as they sat on the floor of the room where they were imprisoned.

“That man is the President of the United States.  He may look different than you are used to seeing him, but I think his current state is a more accurate reflection of his real status than his usual posturing.”

 “This guy wants to talk about posturing?  While he’s wearing that?”  Bruce muttered to Catherine in the close quarters of their location.  

Catherine snorted.  “Wanker.”

 Arias continued.  “That woman’s name is Anita Herrera.  She is an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., a spy, and a criminal.  Today, she is going to do something very important.  For you.  For humankind.  What that is will be determined by S.H.I.E.L.D. and its Director.  Agent Herrera will deliver to me two things I demand:  absolute control over S.H.I.E.L.D. and Sam Wilson, who fancies himself a hero and calls himself the Falcon.  Or, if Director Coulson chooses, Agent Herrera will destroy Washington D.C.  Director Coulson,  you’ve just been sent instructions for contacting me.  Do so within thirty minutes.  If you do not, you will have chosen to reduce America’s capital to rubble.”

 “I really hate it when I’m right,” Sam snarled into the comms.  

“We all do, Falcon,” Steve replied.  “’Cause you always have to point it out.  You in place?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

 Sharon Carter knew a lot of people who were quite skilled at swearing.  She actually didn’t know many people who didn’t swear.  All of her military friends and acquaintances could swear fluently and creatively, and certainly S.H.I.E.L.D. was peopled by some of the very best.  Not one of them could hold a candle to Phil Coulson.  She has always admired his ability to combine, twist, and conjugate foul language into lyrical expressions of both satisfaction and displeasure.  

Currently, Coulson was marching back and forth before a bank of monitors and instruments, waving his arms to punctuate his expletive-filled reaction to Arias’s announcement.  It was an astounding display of wicked eloquence Sharon wished could be recorded for posterity.  

She simply stood back to appreciate the performance.  They had thirty minutes, and they already knew the answer he would deliver to Arias.  

“Is the team in place?”  Coulson asks Sharon.  

“Getting there, Director.  Vision is assisting everyone to access their positions.  He reports that sixty per cent of the force is good to go.  He estimates the rest will be at their assigned locations in fifteen.  He can enter from anywhere, so we’ll be ready in plenty of time.”

“Tell him to do it in ten.  This Arias fuckwit pisses me off.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The Custodian,” he scoffed.  “Lamest fuckin’ name.  Relinquish S.H.I.E.L.D?  My skinny, white ass I will.”

Sharon had to work very, very hard not to look at Director Coulson’s ass as she contacted Vision.

 Arias turned to the technicians at various stations in the control room.  “Tell me when Coulson makes contact.”

“Yes, Custodian.”  

He did another of those turns that billowed his cape behind him satisfyingly, then stalked across the room and down the corridor toward the machine.  Arias’s lieutenants followed at his heels.  They  understood that now was the time to tell him that he had delivered his message powerfully and masterfully.  They, of course, did not disappoint him.

“Bring the woman,” he said to Olviedo, his second in command, as they walked. “It’s time to get her prepared.”

When Arias turned into the room with the machine, Olviedo continued down the corridor to the locked room where Anita and the President waited.  He approached the thick, metal door, but before he inserted his key, he gave instructions to the guards to be especially careful.  The President had been drugged and beaten, but he was still not to be underestimated. The guards nodded and took positions just behind him, so that he missed their momentary eye contact and slight nods to one another.  

Neither Anita nor President Burke got up when they entered.  Olviedo brusquely ordered Anita to stand, with the oh-so-predictable result that Burke objected.  While the guards took a struggling Anita by her arms, Olviedo dealt with him.  Burke almost got to his feet, but Olviedo landed a surprisingly powerful blow to his left temple, knocking him to the floor once more.  Olviedo was occupied, which meant he was entirely unaware of the activity behind him as he kicked Burke unconscious with one quick, well-placed strike of his boot heel.

Anita fought against the guards’ hold, even as one of them deactivated his nanomask, just long enough to show Anita his face.  He signaled her to continue her cries and struggles while the other guard briefly deactivated his mask, while she shouted defiantly and resisted.  Continuing to scream and fight was easy enough – she was genuinely terrified of this situation, after all – and it kept Oliviedo from seeing her reaction to the fact that the guards were Markus Turell and Bucky Barnes.

Olviedo re-locked the heavy door and signaled for the guards to bring Anita and follow him.

When she arrived in the machine room, Arias smiled warmly at Anita, as though pleased to see her.  Which wasn’t entirely false; she was a beautiful woman, and wearing that torn cocktail dress and fearful expression, she looked like several of his darkest fantasies.  She feigned unconcerned disgust at seeing him, which didn’t fool him for a second, but he appreciated the attempt nonetheless. He did like a woman with some fire to her.    

“Ah, mi Anita,” he greeted her, taking her hand.  She attempted to pull it roughly back, but he had her wrist in a grip tight enough to leave a mark.  

“You son of a bitch,” she spat.  He stepped backward, pulling her with him, and she fought him all the way past the corner of the machine, where her eyes widened as she was confronted with a coffin-like receptacle extending from the machine at thigh level like a drawer.  

That was it for her ability to play along with whatever was about to happen. She turned abruptly away from him, jerking her wrist from his grip.  Continuing to move in the same direction, she stepped backward, stomping on his foot with the spiked heel of her shoe while swinging her elbow into his face.  He stumbled backward, hands clasping to his head, leaving his abdomen wide open for the vicious kick she launched.  Her heel probably would have punctured his flesh, were it not for the ridiculous robe thing he was wearing under his cape.

She would’ve continued to go after him, except that she was suddenly looking down the barrels of two sidearms in the hands of the guards, and covered by half a dozen more from others in the room.  

“What are you wearing, Arias, you asshole, Joseph’s Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat?”  She huffed furiously, breathing heavily from her exertion.  “Is the ‘C’ for caricature?”

“Put her in!”  Arias roared, injured and humiliated before his men, which made him angry enough to kill her himself, if only he hadn’t needed her to pilot the machine.   As it was, he knocked her into the drawer-like receptacle with a vicious backhand that left her bleeding and disoriented.

The guards wrestled her into the drawer-thing, strapping her limbs down as she struggled, spitting and cursing.  Then, as she screamed, the reservoir retracted smoothly until Anita was entirely within the machine.  

“Custodian, S.H.I.E.L.D. has made contact,” a technician announced.  “I can connect you whenever you’re ready.”

“Excellent,” Arias responded, pulling roughly on his robe to straighten it, then running a hand through his hair in an attempt to put himself to rights. Fucking bitch.  I will enjoy listening to her die.  “Begin the program.”

Several of the technicians began to push buttons and throw switches, while one typed something that appeared as strange symbols on a monitor in the control surface of the machine.  One of Arias’s lieutenants brought a long, rectangular metal case towards him, holding the case so that the catch faced him.  Arias opened it, revealing the metallic objects Anita had found in his office on Marathon Key.

These objects upset him, just as the orbs did.  They were the reason for the long, black gauntlets he wore, although he admitted to himself that fashion, too, played in a role in choosing those. He did not want to touch the implements, tainted as they were from being not of Earth.  They horrified him, really, with their repulsive markings and the heavy, shifting weight of them, as though something alive was trapped inside.

The machine was now making a number of sounds, as Anita’s muffled screams and the thumps of her attempts to escape could be heard from the compartment where she was imprisoned.  The machine whirred and clicked, whined occasionally, and made other unidentifiable noises as…  something happened inside it.  Anita’s cries reached a crescendo, then quickly slowed, quieted, and then stopped.

“Connect me with S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Arias ordered imperiously, lifting the first metal object from the case.  It was irregularly-shaped, with multiple surfaces, all at different angles and of different sizes. It was strangely luminescent, which seemed impossible, given that it was metal.  That was another thing Arias didn’t trust about them.  

“Arias-“  Phil Coulson’s voice was heard from several speakers around the room.

“I am the Custodian,” he corrected.  “That is how you will address me.”

“Yeah, not likely.  I just called to tell you to suck my dick.”

At S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Sharon stifled a laugh.

“Your Agent Herrera will die, and your capital will be destroyed,” Arias said matter-of-factly.

“Meh.  Climate in D.C. sucks, anyway.  Maybe they’ll rebuild somewhere better.”  There was a soft beeping sound.

Arias whirled toward the technician.  “Did we lose the connection?”  He really did not want to contemplate the humiliation of having his conquest of the planet hampered by something as pedestrian as technical difficulties.

“Uh…  No, Custodian.  It, uh… S.H.I.E.L.D. has ended transmission.”

Bucky, standing to the side, very determinedly did not smirk at the idea of Coulson hanging up on this grandiose jagoff.  

Arias was incensed, and yanked hard on a small lever near the top of the machine, where it was bathed in the ugly green glow coming from the multiple openings in the level above.  The noise of a small motor accompanied the sight of a small hatch opening.  Inside the hatch was a simple compartment, the exact size and shape of the implement Arias held in his hand.  It took him a moment, given its very irregular surface, to find the correct orientation, but when he did, the object slid home and the compartment lit with more of that eerie green light.  Arias shoved the lever back up, and the compartment closed. The sound from the machine changed.

 “OK, the feed from Bucky’s body cam is showing Arias starting with those objects,” Sharon said into the comms.  

Coulson’s voice could be heard next.  “Go time, Cap.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Sam’s exhale came over the comms.  Steve didn’t comment on that, because he agreed.  

“First wave, go!”  Steve ordered.  

 Arias had just finished placing the second implement into its niche when he heard shocked voices over the sound of the machine.  He looked up and was startled to see Vision, that machine-made red abomination, who had just come through the wall.  At the same time, Arias could hear shouts and gunshots begin up the corridor, seemingly from the control room.  

He did not panic.  He knew these adversaries, knew they had freakish powers and would try to resist him.  He simply touched the ornately decorated collar at his throat, barked a command and went back to his work, pulling down the third lever perhaps more quickly than he had done the first two.  The scream of the ultrasonic weapon filled the air.

 Vision ignored everyone in the room, simply tossing them out of the way, as he moved to the side of the machine away from the control surfaces at which the technicians were working.  He began trying to tear panels off of the machine.  Bullets ricocheted off of him, which actually took out one of Arias’s lieutenants.  The rest of the men in the room rushed to find cover.  

Arias screamed at them to stay where they were, and to stop firing. There was no cover, and the only one hurt by the bullets was on their side.  They would have to find another way to deal with Vision.  The pilot’s mind was even now being programmed with visions of the destruction she was to cause once the energy began to penetrate, and then saturate, her body.  They just needed to keep Vision from doing much damage.  He couldn’t, really, not from where he was hacking and tearing at the machines’ cowling.  Perhaps he could disable the ultrasonic weapon, but that was a small matter.  Arias’s guards would simply have to deal with any intruders.  Or not. Once the machine was activated and Washington destroyed, Arias himself had a personal escape route that would allow him to simply leave the facility, and the guards, to their fate.  

He continued to place the implements into the machine.  Four in, three to go.  

 “Second wave, go!”  Steve’s voice came through the comms.

Like cockroaches, black figures began pouring into the bunker through every access tunnel big enough to fit one, and a few that really weren’t big enough, but Vision was one determined dude, whom none of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wanted to cross.  Once they began entering, the flow of agents in tac gear into the bunker didn’t stop.

Arias’s armed guards fought desperately, and knew the underground facility much better than the agents.  Still, the agents’ training and numbers gave them the advantage.  Besides which, they had Captain America, Ironman, Hawkeye, the Black Widow, and Ant-man with them.  It really wasn’t a fair fight, but the Avengers didn’t want a fair fight.  Not today.  Arias had kidnapped one of theirs, and they were still steamed from their defeat the day before.  The lunch room where poor Santi had first brought Natasha began to be filled with disarmed, frightened bad guys.

 Joss and Wanda, along with three other agents, only paid enough attention to Arias’s men to avoid being shot.  Their mission was to rescue the President, not to engage anyone except as necessary to get to where he was being held.  They encountered a surprising number of Arias’s men who, not knowing that they’d already lost, fought fiercely.  One popped out from a side corridor, grabbing Joss by the neck and holding a gun to her head.

“I don’t care who the hell you people are,” the guy said in heavily-accented English.  “I just want out.  Get out of my way and I won’t-“

That was all he got out before Joss made her move, flipping him over her shoulder.  Wanda caught him in mid-air, and he found himself slamming into, then sliding down the opposite wall of the corridor, upside-down, to land painfully on his head. One of the agents took his gun, and they moved on, leaving him for someone else to deal with.  

 Sam was not happy about having to help herd up Arias’s men before he could get to Anita.  He had to keep ruthlessly stomping down thoughts of her as he and his team worked their assigned corridor, one where they didn’t expect to find many men.  He’d reluctantly agreed that he was too emotionally involved to have been assigned the role one of the guards - not that Steve was likely to back down on that - but still, it was hard.  Sam might have taken some chances he shouldn’t have, and was perhaps rougher than he would normally be with the men he disarmed once they surrendered, but who could blame him?  He trusted Vision, Bucky, and Markus Turell to keep Arias from activating that machine, but he wanted like hell to be there, already holding her and getting her the fuck out of this hole.

 Arias now had the last implement in his hand, as Vision fought with guards who tried to subdue him physically.  He couldn’t use the energy from the mind stone, for fear of hitting the machine.  Tearing into its guts was taking longer than they’d planned, because he kept having to consult Bruce and Catherine. The two were monitoring Vision’s progress from nearby, outside the bunker, as to which wires or circuit boards to tear out next. But no matter how much of its guts Vision tore out, it didn’t seem to be stopping whatever the machine was doing. As Arias continued to place the objects, the noise was getting progressively louder, the green glow brighter. Soon, Vision was going to have to give up trying to disable the machine and stop Arias from activating it.

There were many other machines throughout the world.  They needed to know how Arias activated them, so that they could destroy them without accidentally triggering them.  They had no idea how many sets of those weird objects he’d inserted into it might exist.  Perhaps one for each machine.  They needed to know how to activate the machines, so they would know how not to. Arias certainly wasn’t going to tell them, no matter what they did to try to convince him.  So Vision had to let Arias continue until the last possible second. And he had to be right.  If not, Anita’s body would be shot through with a beam of energy much more than capable of killing her.

It was a frenzied, slow-motion race that had those monitoring it at S.H.I.E.L.D. and in the mobile command post near the bunker completely on edge.

 Bucky and Markus, meanwhile, had been busy taking out guards and technicians. In keeping with Steve’s usual order, they used non-lethal force wherever they could, and sent many disarmed guards and unarmed technicians flying into the corridor with instructions to get out of the bunker.  They wouldn’t get out, of course; they’d meet the rest of the team.  But they didn’t know that.

As he tossed two more screaming guards into the corridor, Bucky saw Joss and her team jogging down toward him.  In her black tac gear, armed to the teeth, her hair once again in that businesslike French twist, she easily could’ve distracted him if he’d allowed it.  He gave her a cheeky salute and a grin, which he was pleased to notice made her flush an adorable pink, and went back to work.

 The door to the room where the President was being held needed a key. That was unexpected, but S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers were pretty used to the unexpected.  Joss signaled to one of the agents, who began shaping plastic explosives on the hinges.  Joss banged on the door and tried to yell to President Burke to get as far away as he could, but on the monitor, he didn’t seem to hear anything through the massive metal door. At least he wasn’t right next to it.

The agent gave them a signal and the team retreated behind the bend in the corridor.  At a nod from Joss, she called “Fire in the hole!” and triggered the charges.

Seconds later, the team came around the corner again, to find the door entirely intact.  Joss displayed some of the colorful language she’d learned in the Air Force.

 Steve and his team had cleaned out the rooms in three of the five corridors, and had run out of space in the room where they were putting those they’d disarmed. The conference room became a second holding cell, once Ironman welded all but one door shut.  Now it was time to deal with the armory room.  Tactically, it was a lousy situation.  Several of Arias’s goons had shut themselves up in the room, with who knew how many weapons and an unknown quantity of ammunition. The team stood just around a turn in the corridor and discussed what to do.  Ant-Man couldn’t go in and do recon, because the metal doors were airtight; there was no way for him to get in.  Ironman was going to have to burn through the door, which was going to take time and give those inside plenty of time to plan their defense.  The only good news was that damned hypersonic weapon was finally disabled.  They all triggered the buttons on their collars to turn them off, grateful for the relative silence and an end to the uncomfortable pressure on their bodies.

 Arias didn’t seem to be paying much attention to what was going on in the room around him, as the machine reached a painful scream of volume.  When Vision saw him place the final object into its niche, Bucky and Markus watched from behind Arias, ignored, as he pushed buttons, turned dials, and flicked switches in a sequence long enough that Bucky was glad for the body cams – he was never going to remember that shit.  Arias then looked up, and they heard the unmistakable sound of Anita screaming inside the machine.  

That was that.  Vision had to be satisfied with the amount of destruction he’d caused the machine so far and turn to Arias.  He launched himself over the machine, colliding with Arias just as he touched a final lever on the control console, and sent Arias flying.  Markus took Arias’s place at the controls, and simply began reversing the sequence of what Arias had just done.  Bucky didn’t have much time to be impressed with his memory, because he was around the side of the machine, removing a short pry bar that had been hanging from his belt.  There was a muffled explosion from the hallway, which no one in the machine room paid any attention to, as Vision dealt with Arias, Markus dealt with the machine, and Bucky tried to free Anita.

 Joss and Wanda’s team stood looking at the hinges of the door, now devoid of paint but still very much intact.  

“I don’t know what I can do here,” Wanda said.  “But let me try.”

A stream of scarlet flowed from her fingertips to the door and around it, outlining it and the hinges and latch.  It was beautiful, but Wanda scowled.  “Not that way, apparently.  I think we’re going to have to go old school.  Back around the corner.”

“Wait, what are you gonna do?”  Joss asked.

“Blow the door in.  Brutish, but effective.”

“And probably fatal.  That’ll blast the door right into the President.  Look where he is.”

On the monitor, the President was, indeed, slumped against the wall, directly across from the door.  He was awake and alert; he’d heard the initial attempt to blow the hinges, but he didn’t look like he was going to move anytime soon.

“Anyone got any bright ideas?”

For a few moments, the team stood looking dumbly at the door, minds considering and rejecting option after option.

“Do you suppose…” Joss cocked her head, squinting at the door thoughtfully.

Wanda turned to look at Joss.  She could see that Joss wasn’t just staring at the door.  She was doing something, and Wanda correctly guessed that she was using her telekinesis somehow.  “What is it?”  

“Shhhh. Bucky and I discovered I can sort of… feel things, even if I can’t see them.  I’m trying to… see how this lock works. It’s not easy by feel.”

“Why?”

“My dad’s a locksmith. I love locks. Used to play with them when I was a kid. I might be able to figure this one out.”

 Arias was beyond furious.  He was outraged that this magenta horror was trying to stop him from doing what was necessary to protect the world.  He was just angry enough to consider the unthinkable.  It would, of course, destroy this machine and make it impossible to level the city as he’d planned, at least for a time.  Arias truly hadn’t thought he would need to use the Pulse. But he was otherwise unarmed and his entire cadre of lieutenants, guards, and assistants appeared to have abandoned him, except for two.  Although now that he considered it, he realized they weren’t doing anything to help him.  Rather, they were doing something to his machine while this Vision creature lifted Arias from the floor by his neck.

He sighed dramatically.  “The Avengers.  Always part of the problem.”  

He squeezed the small trigger in his hand.  

 The men in the armory room apparently decided not to wait to be trapped by the Avengers in an inescapable shooting gallery.  Without warning, the door was flung open and heavily armed men boiled out of the room.  There was a shocking number of them, and the element of surprise gave them a split second to already be among the Avengers when the team shook off their surprise and began to fight back.  Scott disappeared into insect size, and soon every member of the team was dodging bullets and fighting one or more armed men.  

 Sam’s team threw the last of the men they’d cleaned out of their corridors into the conference room.  He didn’t even bother saying anything to the rest of his team, or the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents guarding the conference room door, before sprinting down the corridor toward the machine room.  

He didn’t make it.

 The door to the President’s cell clicked loudly and a crack appeared between the edge of the door and the frame.  “You know what?”  Joss smiled.  “When this is over?  I’m totally rethinking my stance on mutant pride.  Might even read some of that Xavier guy’s stuff.  Because you gotta admit, that was pretty cool.”

The team quickly burst into the room and Joss threw herself to her knees, sliding the last foot or so toward the President.  

“Sir?”  She looked into his face, very pleasantly surprised to see that, when he opened his eyes, there was a glittering fire in them.  

“You get Arias?”  He asked hoarsely.

“Not yet, Sir, but it’s in process.”  She reached behind her to accept the first aid kit one of the agents handed her.  

At that moment, the comms went nuts.  Steve was hollering for backup and there was a host of overlapping chatter that made it clear there was a serious firefight going on.  

“Natasha’s down!  We need every swingin’ dick up here NOW!”

Joss and Wanda exchanged glances.  Joss didn’t even have to ask.  “No, he doesn’t usually talk like that.  It’s bad.  I need to go.”

“Yes.  Go,” Joss told her.  “Mr. President, can you shoot a gun right now?”

Burke made what Joss assumed was his war face.  It was pretty gruesome, especially with the injures to his face.  “Absolutely,” he growled.

That was good enough for Joss.  She looked up from the bandage she was applying.  “All of you.  Go.  I got the President.”

That was when the lights went out and all of the omnipresent sound of humming power, and the screaming coming from the machine down the corridor ceased abruptly.  It was immediately disorienting, the quiet even moreso than the dark.

Vision simply crashed to the floor and didn’t move.  The machine continued to glow hideously, which is how Bucky and Markus saw Arias seemingly disappear into the wall.  They both ignored everything except the desperate calls for help that had begun erupting from their comms.  Saving their team took priority over chasing Arias, or even checking on Vision.  He’d be fine; he’d just been powered down.

Bucky swore as he pulled his night-vision goggles from his belt and donned them.  This is why he hated when Steve split them up on missions.  That dumbass always got himself into shit, which meant Bucky had to get him out of it.

#The Avengers #Captain America #The WInter Soldier #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #Wanda Maximoff #Vision #Sam Wilson #Phil Coulson

[spread-the-word]

A Brief Walkthrough of the Anti-LGBT Movement: Then and Now

https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1mLHIgqZzulSvMBj_NZPl9Di4x0QFayBfrdPdJxClQi4/edit?usp=sharing

In November, one of my friends and I gave a presentation to our Writing and Activism class on the Anti-LGBT movement. Here is the presentation and associated write-up, if you’re interested in learning about the history—present of the movement that rose up in resistance to the LGBT movement (a movement mainly made up of angry bigots) then read on! The presentation includes videos and visuals, and the write-up is under the cut!

LGBT people have existed as long as civilizations have. Shocking, I know. Many Native Americans happily lived queer lifestyles before colonists showed up. “Joya” was a term for men living as women, and the female Crow Chief Barcheeampe was found to have many wives. Colonization, however, brought with it anti-LGBT sentiment. 

In 1969, the Stonewall Riots ignited the modern LGBT Rights movement. Before this, the Anti-LGBT movement had been in its genesis. Over the following decade, the Anti-LGBT movement moved into social unrest.

In 1977, Anita Bryant founded the first national anti-gay group, Save Our Children, starting organized opposition to the Gay Rights movement, and in 1979 Reverend Jerry Falwell founded the Moral Majority, bringing about an effort to increase fundamentalist votes and elect Christian Right candidates. They made a “Declaration of War” against homosexuality.

The movement’s mobilization continued well into the 80s as these groups continued to gain support and a platform. The Supreme Court case Bowers v. Hardwick in 1986 ruled that anti-sodomy statutes were constituational, and gave renewed vigor to the movement. At the same time, the LGBT+ movement was growing. The first National Coming Out Day was observed in 1988. 

Anti-LGBT legislation was upheld into the 90s, when a 1992 amendment that would have protected lesbians and gay men from discrimination in Colorado was overturned, and in 1994 when 40+ fundamentalist groups, led by Focus on the Family, met in Colorado to coordinate a “special rights” argument to oppose gay rights.

Happily, the anti-LGBT movement has had to change as the LGBT movement has grown and gained more traction and public support. Public Opinion: Being anti-LGBT isn’t as popular now as it was before. On June 26th, 2015, gay marriage was legalized in all 50 states, so many anti-gay arguments have turned to “slippery slope” theories, wondering what will happen now. Anti-gay marriage arguments may technically be on the wrong side of the law now, but other legislation affecting LGBT protections is in jeopardy. Marriage was not the great equalizer, it was just a step in the right direction, as the anti-LGBT movement is by no means out of opportunities to roll back change and protections for the LGBT community, and bigotry still exists even if it is becoming less popular.

In North Carolina, HB2 (“The Bathroom Bill”) prevented transgender people from using the bathroom matching their gender identity, and nullified local ordinances (that existed before) protecting LGBT people. After public backlash, it was replaced with HB142 and the public was satisfied. This, however, has been deemed a “fake repeal” of HB2, as it doubles down on much of HB2. Trans people are no longer prevented from using public facilities matching their gender identity, but they are also not protected. HB142 also prevents decisions on discrimination protections in employment until Dec. 2020 (when it will be reexamined). However, until then, it is perfectly legal for an employer in NC to fire their employee because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, and there isn’t even any guarantee that this will be overturned in Dec. 2020, it’s just being “reexamined.” Whatever the hell that will mean by next December for the state that I’ve lived in all my life and I would very much like to continue living in as a lesbian, I don’t know.

In June 12, 2016, the second deadliest mass shooting in modern U.S. history, with 49 dead and 53 injured, occured at the Pulse Nightclub in Florida. The shooter entered with two weapons (an assault rifle and handgun that he bought legally), and threatened to put bomb vests on people in the club. It was a violent, radical, militant horror. The motivation behind the shooting was deemed unclear; Omar Mateen claimed to have ties to Al-Qaeda and Isis (he was investigated in 2013/14 for possible ties to a suicide bombing). This was, however, clearly a hate crime: The shooter’s father claimed that his son was angered by the sight of men kissing.

Hate preachers are other particularly well-known members of the Anti-LGBT community. They give Christianity a bad rep in the LGBT community, although there are still members of the community that are Christians and refuse those hateful beliefs. It is important that these people aren’t dismissed outright, however, because they often have huge followings and we need to take them somewhat seriously to combat it. Conversion therapy rises out of their doctrine, as do ridiculous terms like “sodomites” (here’s the true T: Sodom and Gomorrah were destroyed because of rape and inhospitality, not homosexuality). Many preach :love the sinner, hate the sin” (gee, thanks) but one church in particular is infamous for loudly hating both… The Westboro Baptist Church.  They’re an extremely unpopular example, and their actual website is www.godhatesfags.com. On their FAQ page, under a question about why they focus on homosexuality, they say: “Imagine if embezzlers, murderers or rapists demanded that they be given protection - not punishment - by law because of their wrongful deeds? Or imagine that any of these sinners got together and paraded down Main Street in a ‘Murderers Pride Parade’? Most would gasp in amazement. Yet most embrace the notion that because someone engages in sex with a person of the same gender - and then chooses to broadcast that fact - they should be protected, even though God Almighty has forever denounced that practice and called it an abominable sin.”

It’s not all bleak, though, and there are things we can do in response. Join a Counter-protest, respond to ignorance with intelligence, and VOTE. Gay representation is becoming more prevalent in the media and in popular culture, and the bigots are more unpopular then ever. Forge ahead, you’re on the right side of history!

Thanks for reading all that. Here’s a video clowning Alex Jones to celebrate:

#lgbt #gay rights #history #lgbt activism #anti-lgbt

[kneesheee]

Imagine back in Descendants 1, someone cast a spell (Not Mal) and the AKs bear witness the mother-son dynamic of Cruella and Carlos. Bonus if Roger and Anita were there.

It had been family day.

Jane stood over with Audrey and Chad as the VKs stood guard at the chocolate fountain. Jay was sticking his tongue into the fountain as Carlos cheered him on. Former King and Queen Belle were speaking with Mal and Ben as Evie tried in vain to scold the boys. 

“It just seems so sad that their parents couldn’t be here,” Jane muttered to Audrey. “I mean yeah I understand why they cant come, but it doesn’t make it any less sad.”

Audrey turned to her with a bright smile, but a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Oh,Jane, you’re a genius. You can bring Carlos’ mom over. She’s the only one without magic powers so the most we have to worry about is her trying to kill Dude. And Carlos is protective of that dog and the other VKs are protective of him so there’s that.”

“What?! I cant bring his mom over here. I don’t even think I have magic.”

Chad who had been listening to the plan turned to her. “Of course you can. Mal’s mother was a dark fairy and you’re mother is The Fairy Godmother. And don’t think I don’t remember all those times when you used accidental magic when we were kids.”

“But I-I… you really think it’d make him happy?”

Audrey and Chad nodded their heads. “What child wouldn’t want to see their parents?”

“Okay. Uh, lets see. Reach through the veil, bring over Cruella De Vil, for Carlos to see his mother, and in with her love shall smother.”

Thunderstruck as a bright light twirled through the air and wrapped around a small frail figure. Everyone in the crowd watched in fear and anticipation. Ben had stood guard in front of Mal and Adam covered Belle’s small form. Even Jay took a stand in front of Carlos and Evie with chocolate still smeared across his face.

As the smoke cleared, everyone caught sight of Cruella De Vil as she blinked in shock at the turn of events. She turned around in a circle looking around at the crowd before she caught sight of Carlos.

“You little brat,” she snarled as she made her way over to her son. Mal pushed Ben aside as she, Evie, and Jay blocked her way to Carlos.

“Stay away from him, you old sack of bones,” Mal snarled. Her eyes flashing green. Even Jay’s eyes started glowing crimson at the sight of Cruella.

“He’s my son and I can be near him if I want to. Now get out of my face, little girl,” Cruella sneered as she moved closer to the group.

Even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to get through his friends, he still stumbled back away from her. His brown eyes were wide with fear as Cruella continued forward.

“Carlos, get over here now!” She demanded. Carlos didn’t know if the whimpering was coming from him or Dude or both of them.

“We wont let you hurt him any longer,” Evie yelled at the lady.

“And what are you going to do? You cant protect him forever and when I get my hands on him…” she trailed off when she saw someone move out the corner of her eye.

“Cruella?” The familiar voice rang in the air. Cruella spun around and stumbled back in shock at the sight of her exbestfriend Anita and her husband Roger. Her features contorted into a scowl before she turned back towards the group blocking her way to her son.

“Carlos! Get over here! You have furs to fluff and floors to mop back at the house.”

Carlos’ squeezed his eyes shut as he continued backwards. Belle look back at the boy as he was shaking in fear before she reached out to comfort him.

“Carlos if you don’t get over here now, you’ll spending more than a week locked in the closet,” Cruella screeched as she tried to move around the group and move away from the approaching figure of Anita.

Carlos flinched back so hard as Anita’s hands flew to her mouth. “He’s your son, Cruella!”

“He’s a brat!”

“How could you say that about him? Don’t you love him?”

“The only thing she loves is her furs!” Carlos yelled out. Everyone froze at his voice even Cruella. “Her furs are her one true love. The only thing she could ever love even more than her own flesh and blood.”

Cruella smiled. “See even he knows the truth.”

Mal's and Jay’s eyes flashed deeper in power before they spoke together. “Reach through the veil, thrown in Cruella De Vil, no time to stall, make her disappear before us all.”

Purple and red smoke churned around Cruella’s figure as she shot a panic look over at Anita and glared deeply at her son. “Don’t worry, Carlos. Mommy’s going to be patiently waiting for you at home.”

Carlos visibly shuddered and as the smoke covered his mother’s form completely, he took off running for the woods with Dude at his heels. Jay barely spared a glance over at Mal and Evie before he was following behind him. Evie and Mal rushed behind them right afterwards.

Once the smoke cleared away and everyone was staring in the direction the four ran off to, Ben turned towards the guest with a look of anger no one expected the young and kind king to wear.

“Who brought her here!” He demanded. He didn’t notice when Audrey and Chad slipped away from the proceedings dragging a crying Jane with them.

#ben imagine #ben descendants #audrey descendants #chad descendants #jane descendants #descendants imagine #evie descendants #disney descendants #carlos de vil imagine #mal descendants #jay son of jafar #family day #jay has magic

[arplis]

Arplis - News: Country Dog Cage Covers

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