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twh-news · 3 years

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Despite nearly 600 voice roles in her prolific voiceover career, Loki star Tara Strong still had to audition for her fan-favorite character Miss Minutes. Strong was initially tasked with bringing the Time Variance Authority’s animated mascot to life in its Jurassic Park-inspired orientation video, which brought Loki up to speed on his current predicament. But in episode two, Miss Minutes even took the form of a hologram that briefly interacted with Loki. So despite her vast resume, Strong was more than happy to audition for such an enigmatic character.

“It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had,” Strong tells The Hollywood Reporter. “You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out.”

While she can’t say much about Miss Minutes’ future, Strong can confirm that we haven’t seen the last of her.

“I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again,” Strong shares. “There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.”

When Loki director Kate Herron revealed to THR that Miss Minutes’ introduction video was inspired by Jurassic Park‘s Mr. DNA cartoon, most viewers assumed that Strong’s Southern accent was paying homage to the Southern accent of Mr. DNA, but that wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview,” Strong reveals. “I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation.”

In a recent conversation with THR, Strong dives even deeper into the audition process for voice roles, and then she explains why she wants more synergy between live-action and animated comic book properties.

Since you have a few voice roles [nearly 600] under your belt…

(Laughs.) Just a couple.

I have to imagine that you just got a phone call for Loki‘s Miss Minutes.

I had to audition! It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had. You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. But this character, since it was new, needed an entire audition process because I think they were in search of what felt best for this character. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out. (Laughs.)

How much did they tell you?

Normally, for an audition, they’ll give you a drawing of the character, a character description, sides and some backstory into their world, but we really got very little information. I called my agent after I received the packet, and I was like, “Um, can you tell me anything else about this character? Is she sentient? Is she A.I.?” And my agent was like, “I don’t really know.” So nobody knew what it was because it was so top secret. In fact, I didn’t know what it was until I booked it, which, of course, was very exciting. So based on the information that I had, I laid down three different versions in my home studio. I always do the preliminary audition in my home studio. Sometimes, it’ll take me 5 minutes, and sometimes, it’ll take me 3 hours to get it exactly right, knowing that there’s hundreds or thousands of people vying for one role. So I’ll think about what’s going to separate me from the other people and how I’m going to give them something special that they’ll glom onto. For this one, there were three different versions: one of them included an accent, one was a little bit more A.I and one had a little more emotion attached to it. Obviously, once I saw what it was, it made sense that they were keeping it on the DL.

Did they inform you at some point that they wanted an homage to Mr. DNA from Jurassic Park?

No, they didn’t! In fact, I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview. I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation. So it’s this beautiful mix of things that just somehow seem to go together to create this visually stunning and exciting world, as well as the voiceover behind it. It just all seems to go together to create this enigma. Who is she? Where is she from? What’s her origin story? Why does she look like she’s from the ’70s but she knows everything from the future. It’s really cool.

When it came time to record in earnest, you must’ve been baffled by what you were reading, but then again, you’re probably used to it.

Yeah, and I’ve done several voices with similar descriptions and similar varying levels of A.I. I was the voice of the singing refrigerator [Bridget] on an episode of Modern Family, and initially, they wanted it very Siri-like. And then we added a little more attitude to it. So I’ve done that sort of thing several times, and I know how to manipulate my voice enough to sound like A.I. It’s that sound where you question whether there’s actual emotion behind it. Miss Minutes is such an interesting character because initially you think she’s just someone who’s giving exposition on what happens to you when you get to the TVA. But by episode two, you realize she’s got a little attitude. So she’s a lot of fun to play with.

Before live-action comic book stories became a global juggernaut, animated comic book movies and shows were a primary frame of reference for a lot of these characters. So I’ve always felt that there could be more synergy or crossover between live action and the animation/voice acting community. Are you hopeful that your role as Miss Minutes can help bridge that gap?

That would be pretty wonderful. It is true that voice actors and legacy voice actors — who’ve been at it for so long and are so brilliant at bringing characters to life just with their voice — get passed over for on-camera celebrities that maybe the casting director wants to meet or because someone thinks they’ll bring big box office. If you were to record two very big animated features, one starring on-camera people and one starring people who’ve been doing voiceover for a while, you would definitely hear the difference in the little idiosyncrasies and other things that we know how to do in order to bring this action to life. Overall, there certainly is plenty of crossover when you look at someone like Robin Williams, Tom Hanks, or my favorite, Mark Hamill, who’s brilliant at doing both on-camera and voiceover. But then you do have the A-list celebrities who will come in for an animated session and freak out when they see what everyone else does. Of course, it’s still acting, but it’s a different form of acting. It’s like asking a tap dancer if they do ballet. It is wonderful that the Internet has given voiceover actors a lot of love that maybe their predecessors never knew existed. Now, people can look up who their favorite voiceover actor is, and when I go to a comic con, I’m treated like a superstar who people know. It’s wonderful to be able to give back to those fans, and give hugs, and hear stories about how shows shaped their childhood or brought their family together or got them through a depressing time. So that kind of stuff has been really nice. I certainly didn’t anticipate Loki being so huge, and the reception to Miss Minutes being so wonderful and so loving right out of the gate. So maybe this will give networks [and studios] pause, so they think, “Hey, let’s give one of the voiceover actors a shot at this role. Maybe it’ll be more fun than so and so from The Office. Just for this time, let’s see how this goes.” (Laughs.) If somebody suits the role and does a great job, they should be granted that role regardless of how many Twitter followers they have or how many episodes of an episodic they’ve done.

Loki director Kate Herron said that Miss Minutes is about to go on an “interesting” journey. So what can you cryptically tease about Miss Minutes moving forward?

Well, I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again. (Laughs.) There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. When you see the first episode, you think perhaps that she’s just a recording on a screen, but in episode two, we see that she can become a holographic form and interact with Loki. He even responded to her and asked, “Are you a recording, or are you alive?” And we still don’t know. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.

She got her own character poster, so that’s usually a sign of importance.

She did! And she has her own Twitter! She also has the cutest emoji hashtag I’ve ever seen in my life. (Laughs.)

When Morgan Freeman gets hired for voiceover work, he’s hired to do Morgan Freeman. So what percentage of your jobs ask you to invent a voice, versus using something that’s trademark Tara Strong?

That’s a very good question. Like I said before, they’ll give you a drawing of the character and some backstory into who they are. And then you, as the voice actor, have to try and imagine what production had in mind for this character. With that said, you have to be free to let something organic come to you and take chances. Sometimes, things don’t happen until the very last minute. My favorite example of that would be Teen Titans. When I first read for that, I was already doing five tragic teenage girls: Batgirl for the same network, Ingrid from Fillmore!, Kylie from Extreme Ghostbusters and Shareena Wickett from Detention. I was like, “Gosh, I have to make each character different, but I’m not sure how to make Raven stand apart from the other similar descriptive personalities.” So when I read for Raven, I just put myself in the acting mindset of where she was, and I read the part. And when I walked out of the studio, I passed the booth where the engineer, director and writer were sitting. So I turned to [casting director] Andrea Romano, who I’d been working on Batgirl, and said, “I just had this other idea. Can I try something else?” And she said, “Sure.” So I went back in and that’s when I had this idea that Raven had this weird little roll every time she spoke. So that was not something I planned when I first walked into the studio. You have to be unafraid to try something new and different, and to also be malleable to what production wants. Sometimes, they’ll really love what you did, but then they’ll want her to be older, or missing teeth, or have headgear, or Southern. (Laughs.) So you have to be ready to jump right in and try all kinds of different things until it lands right into the pocket of what works for that voice.

Would you perform your voice roles the same way in live action? Or would you use less inflection?

More than likely, it would be less broad because the cameras are there. On an animated show, if the line is “Whoa!” and your character sees a hot guy or is falling off a cliff, you have to know how to bring that action forth with your voice. When you’re watching something on-camera unfold in front of you, you don’t have to tell the audience so much with your voice. If you’re doing a sitcom, it’s going to be bigger than if you’re doing a single-camera drama. I just worked on a series for 6 months in Toronto, and my character was basically an on-camera Harley but as a drug-dealer mom. It’s a show called Pretty Hard Cases. And it wouldn’t have worked if I played her as broad as animation. With that said, if I got to play actual Harley Quinn as a mom, it would be bigger than that, but probably not as big as an animated thing. It would be somewhere in the middle. Even within animation, you tweak your level of performance based on the world. For instance, I’ve done many iterations of Harley where she’s the high school girl, or in some cases, she’s even darker than Joker. So you have to know the world around you. Some of the best actors that sustain long careers are very highly aware of what environment they’re in at each moment. So the show or the movie really dictates the level of performance.

#loki #loki series #tara strong #interview #miss minutes

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leapyearkisses · 3 years

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Consequences - (m, m/m preslash) Oneshot

Reupload. My brief attempt at writing an action thriller. Imagine if it were possible to buy a pill to make you sick. Then imagine you tried to use that pill to avoid the monumental consequences of your greed-motivated actions.

Probably a bit nsfw, mess, crimes against the environment, bastard men, capitalism, tw alcoholism

---

Murashiki Aritomo lifted the small white pill and examined it with a critical eye. It looked no different than an aspirin or a breath mint, so innocuous as to be almost unbelievable. But he was running out of options. There wasn’t a lot of time to arrange anything different, and he wasn’t sure now whether there was any other course of action that wouldn’t land him in prison. “This pill will make me sick?”

“It will, I can promise you that.” The drug’s purveyor, Paul Gascoigne, had been Murashiki’s classmate in undergrad, although while Murashiki had gone into developmental chemistry, Gascoigne had pursued medicine. Or at least pharmacology. He looked the part now, dressed in a bespoke black suit and a white lab coat for effect, although his bright ginger hair brought a touch of life to the somber outfit. “Flu symptoms for a week, starting about six hours after taking it.” He shook the unlabeled bottle in his hand. “If you double up, the symptoms get worse and last longer. I’ll even give you a discount.”

Murashiki eyed the bottle, then shook his head. “No, I only need to be unavailable for the length of the Summit.”

Gascoigne smiled in a manner befitting a fox. “Yes, I’d heard on the DL there was some nasty business with the LiveBetter plastics. Are you seeking new employment opportunities?”

Murashiki produced his wallet. “I’ll give you an extra €50 to stop asking me questions.”

“Deal.” Gascoigne slipped the bottle back into an inner pocket and got up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He held out a hand for the money and didn’t make a secret of counting it before secreting that away as well. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said. “While I have your attention, may I just say that my doors are always open if you’d like to seek out other opportunities as well.”

“I’m married,” snapped Murashiki, automatically running his thumb over the place where his wedding band used to be.

“Ah, young love,” Gascoigne said, mocking. “You know, she’s a decade gone to Monaco, or Dubai, or wherever it is these days where they pay for high-class whor-”

“Get out.”

Gascoigne spread his hands, conciliatory. “On my way.” He turned on his heel and left the office, letting the glass-fronted door swing shut behind him. Murashiki glared at his retreating back until it was gone, then glared at the door itself. White frosted writing identified his sins.

Aritomo Murashiki, Ph.D. Senior Project Lead, LiveBetter Development Group

He’d shredded all of his files already, but he checked the desk once more to be sure. Everything he wanted to keep he’d put into a slim silver suitcase. He wouldn’t be coming back here, God willing. The pill sat on top of his desk. He swallowed it with a mouthful of whiskey from the decanter underneath. With luck, he could make his excuses the next morning to the relevant people and be on his way out of the country by evening.

---

Murashiki reached his room at the Holiday Inn just past midnight. He put his suitcase by the door and stripped to his shirtsleeves and boxer-briefs before going into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He’d always been one to keep up appearances for the investors, but after all the late night as alcohol he was starting to look wan. He rubbed his eyes, pushing up his glasses. He hadn’t expected that, at 37, his life would be self-destructing in such a public manner. As soon as the environmental compliance reports were brought up in front of the EU, the company would throw him under the bus and that would be that.

Not that he didn’t deserve it. He drew away from the mirror and back into the darkened bedroom. He’d been present for almost every step of the process. His initial warnings had fallen on deaf ears, and then... well, the money had been too good.

“Lead me not into temptation,” he mumbled, laying down on the bed closest to the exit. Maybe he should have stuck with the whole religion thing after Satine had left, but he hadn’t been too fond of faith in the months after. He touched his ring finger again. He knew he was a fool. Gascoigne was right, if insufferable. He closed his eyes. Unbidden, the man’s face came to him. Always looking sly and fit, he’d cut a dashing figure in college, too. They’d made out once, twice... Murashiki had already been married then, but a little bit of beer and bisexual guilt had motivated a slip here and there. He’d never felt like he was “settling” for Satine - in fact, he’d loved her quite dearly - but he’d always been afraid of missing out.

He set an alarm for 5 AM. That would give him enough time to contact the VP. Hopefully by then the pill would have kicked in so it didn’t seem like he was shirking. Of course, everyone would know why he wasn’t there soon enough, but he’d have a head start. He felt fine at the moment, if stressed. It had been four hours.

For the price he’d paid, Gascoigne had better not have ripped him off.

------

Five o’clock came too quickly. Murasaki groped for his phone on the bedside table, slapping at it uncoordinatedly to turn off the alarm. The room was still pitch black. He groaned.

The doctor hadn’t been playing him; he felt awful. His head was heavy and his limbs ached dully - perhaps he was already running a fever? His mouth was dry, and when he tried to moisten it he realized why: he couldn’t breathe through his nose at all. Rubbing it produced no relief, just an irritating shift of congestion in his sinus that led to sharp gasp and a rushed sneeze.

“Hahkyusht!” He caught it against his wrist, and the next two in his palms. “Hhkyuschtt! Hgkktschkt!” Head throbbing, he wiped saliva and snot on the sheets and got out of bed. He’d seen a tissue box on the toilet tank last night and was in great need of it.

The fluorescent overhead light set him cursing when he flicked it on. It felt like high beams stabbing him in the face after a particularly intemperate night of drinking. He shielded his eyes with one arm and grabbed a handful of tissues to crush against his nose. He was going to sneeze again. He could feel an itch clawing deep inside his left nostril. He squinted against it, trying to take shallow breaths, but it didn’t help. “Hahgktsciutsz!”

The tissues were a mess already, but he tried to blow his nose. That lead to coughing, too, and he found himself leaning over the sink, trying to get his bearings. “The fuck did you put in that pill?” he growled to himself. Surely not a live virus? The consequences would be staggering. And not just because he felt himself a little dizzy and unsteady on his feet. It would be easy to transport pills across borders, easy to disguise them as something harmless - they already looked it. Influenza was already one of the most deadly of epidemics. What if Gascoigne could take TB, rabies, ebola and weaponize it marketed as aspirin or loperamide??

In the mirror, his gray eyes were wide and Murasaki could see even without his glasses that he was sweating. He shivered. Right. Things were getting out of hand. He was just feverish and letting his tension take over.

He took the tissues back into the room with him and returned to the bed. He just had to make a few calls and then get out. Everything would be fine. He could make flight arrangements in the taxi and then be on his way back to Japan faster than you could say “non-extradition country.”

It was 5:12. The VP picked up on the third ring. “Dr. Murasaki?” she asked, sounding like she hadn’t had her coffee yet. “What is it?”

“Good morning, ma’am.” He didn’t have to force the coughing that followed. “I realize it’s terrible timing...”

“You sound awful.”

He coughed again in agreement. “I feel awful. I’m nih- not sure I’ll make it to the convention center.” He pinched his nose, at least until he could feel the sneeze cresting. Then he let it out, not too far from his phone’s microphone. “Hahkgtschgt!” Mess painted his lips and he struggled to breathe past it for a moment.

“Santé!” She was too polite to sound appalled, but she was quick to dismiss him. “We’ll miss you at the luncheon and awards ceremony.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” he said, through more tissues. “The team is just as deserving of recognition for this as I am.”

“Yes, of course. I will pass on news of your absence to the event coordinators.” In the end, it didn’t really matter to her whether the scientists behind the company’s products were there or not, just that the presentation was made on time and the right people (her) made the right headlines. Someone would make sure the info made it to the European stage. And that someone would not be Murasaki. He didn’t envy whoever was left with the data. He didn’t even know if anyone else who was going knew exactly what they meant. But the audience would.

He was free, though, for now. He thanked her and hung up, then let the phone fall from his hand to the pillows. “Hah... haah-” If he could leave off sneezing for twenty minutes, he would be golden. His nostrils flared, and he fumbled for more tissues as the right started running, worsening the irritation to an unbearable degree. “Hakgschtgnx! Nktscgshx!” His ears rang and he dropped to lay back on the bed. He hadn’t felt this bad since back in college, junior finals week, when he’d stayed up for four days and then been bedridden for just as long. His nose felt raw already. Even his eye sockets hurt. He lay his arm back over his face, enjoying how cool it felt on his forehead.

He would just close his eyes for a minute. For one minute, he would try to will away the pain and heat.

------

“HEY!”

Murasaki startled awake to the sound of fists raining down against the door. He tried to kick out at an assailant, caught the sheet, and struggled until he found himself on the floor. Threadbare carpeting pressed into his cheek and he tried desperately to remember where he was. Not the office. Not his apartment in Montmartre. He forced himself to sit up and had to lean against the bed to stay upright.

He was in a hotel, he finally remembered. He was staying here before he left the city. Just a few phone calls to make- no, he’d called the VP. The room was awash in the orange light of fading afternoon. His stomach twisted. That wasn’t right.

The pounding hadn’t stopped, but by the time Murasaki thought he might be able to address it, whoever was outside had forced their way in. He expected a horde of angry journalists, armed with cameras and microphones like on TV, but it was only one man. Gascoigne, he thought. It took him a moment to place the man without his glasses, but that hair...

“What are you doing?!” Gascoigne practically shouted. He shoved the door closed again and used Murasaki’s suitcase to keep it from swinging. “You’re still in Paris? There’s an uproar! They were showing parts of the Summit live, you know.” He grabbed Murasaki’s elbow and yanked him to his feet. “I wasn’t sure whether Le Monde or Greenpeace would get you first, but it’s much worse than that.” No lab coat today, Murasaki noted distractedly. Jeans and a bomber jacket. Did black-market doctors get weekends?

He tried to free his arm and failed.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” Gascoigne was saying still. He shook the smaller man. “Idiot. Did you hear what I said? The Russian mafia put out a hit on you! Hey!” He grabbed Murasaki by the nape. “They found out LiveBetter is behind the collapse of their fishing interests in the Black Sea. This is all over the deep web. Hey.” He shook Murasaki again. “What’s wrong with you??”

Murasaki pressed his hand against Gascoigne’s chest, tried to push away from him. “You,” he said. “You poisoned me, or s- somethih- Hahktsch! Haktschngx!”

“Christ.” Gascoigne let him go.

Murasaki lifted his hands. “Hgkttschzx! You... what is this? I’m burning up.” He was shivering, too. He felt sick and dizzy. “I must have passed out.”

“Yeah, you look like shit,” said Gascoigne. He shrugged at Murasaki’s glare. “What? Sometimes it hits harder for people if they haven’t taken it before. S’not exactly FDA approved.”

Murasaki collected more tissues and blew his nose. “How did you find me?” This was not good. He’d be stopped at the airport, probably. The mafia had connections all over Europe.

“Your phone.” Gascoigne had picked it up off the pillow. “You have... sixty missed calls and messages. Wow.” He dropped the device unceremoniously behind the bed. “We’re leaving that here. Get dressed.”

“‘We’?” Murasaki tossed the tissues to the carpet and started trying to button his shirt. His pants were where he’d left them, and he picked them up, leaning against the wall dizzily as he tried to get them on one leg and then the other.

Gascoigne moved the blinds aside and took stock of the street outside. “Yes, ‘we.’ I didn’t come after you for my own health. Get going. Where are your shoes?”

The two of them, led by Gascoigne, left out the back stairwell. Gascoigne had parked an unassuming tan Renault at the sidewalk and he pushed Murasaki into the passenger seat before taking the wheel and driving out of the courtyard. After only minutes, the car blended seamlessly in with the local traffic. “We’ll head to Germany for now. I’m sure the mafia has people at Charles de Gaulle. When we get a chance, maybe Brazil?” He was driving admirably despite the pressure he’d put himself under. Not drawing the attention of anyone.

It didn’t occur to Murasaki, with how terrible he was feeling, to ask why Gascoigne had actually come for him until they were close to the border. “I mean, you didn’t have to get involved,” he said. “No one would have connected our names.” He was looking up at Gascoigne’s face from under his bangs. The car window was nicely cold against his temple.

Gascoigne glanced over to him and rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

There was a silence. Murasaki coughed. “Is that it??”

Gascoigne didn’t meet his gaze, focusing on the highway ahead. “You didn’t think I was just hitting on you to piss you off, did you?”

Murasaki frowned, then looked away. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to answer me,” Gascoigne said, voice carefully neutral. “I’m doing this because I want to.” He reached down and turned on the radio. The point was clear: no discussion was to be had at this time.

Murasaki stared out at the passing countryside and tried to get a handle on the mix of emotions churning inside him. Fear, gratitude, helplessness, lust... he couldn’t think through the fever and eventually gave in to a numbing haze. With luck, he would live long enough to figure out what he wanted a day, a week, a month from now.

Gascoigne kept driving.

#snz #lyk writes #murashiki aritomo #paul gascoigne #oneshot

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bellakitse · 4 years

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I was born Thursday's Child

“It’s Carlos, sir,” Judd gets out quickly, and TK feels an ice-cold fear run up his spine at the urgency he hears in his friend’s voice. “He was a step behind me, the floor caved, and he went through into the basement.”

Carlos gets hurt on a call.

30 days of Tarlos - Day 18

Part Three of Firefighter Carlos! AU, Part One, Part Two

It’s eight pm on a Thursday, TK is rolling up the water hoses they used on their last call with Carlos’ help while the rest of the team details the truck as they try to guess what the letters of his name stand for. It’s become something of a game to the crew when they have downtime. His dad walked away as soon as the game started. He can never keep a straight face at all the ridiculous combinations his crew comes up with and instead headed to his office to do some paperwork.

“Thomas Kayden,” Paul shouts out from the top of the truck, rolling his eyes when he shakes his head.

“Tristan Kristopher,” Mateo points at him with a grin. “Christopher with a K, that feels very ‘city boy.’”

“Tanner,” Marjan starts, smirking at him when he makes a face. “Kingston.”

TK scowls at his friend, and then turns it on Carlos when he hears him snort quietly next to him. He tells his stomach to quit it with the butterflies it gets from Carlos’ beautiful unapologetic smile.

“No, Marjan,” he says dryly, rolling his eyes again. “My initials don’t stand for Tanner Kingston. Did you really have to pick the douchiest name ever?”

Marjan lifts a slim shoulder, shrugging as she sweeps the floor. “If you would just tell us, we’d stop.”

“Let me think about that,” he says, bringing a finger up to his face, tapping his cheek as he pretends to give the suggestion some serious thought. “Nope, I don’t think so. Request denied.”

TK grins as more than one of them scoffs or shakes their heads at him. Judd being the loudest.

“This is ridiculous,” the cowboy grumbles as he turns his sight on Carlos. “Reyes, what’s your boyfriend’s real name?”

Carlos looks up from the water hose, his eyes going wide as he finds them all staring at him. “What?” he asks, shaking his head. “He hasn’t told me.”

“Please,” Judd scoffs again.

“I’m serious,” Carlos says standing up straight, he throws him an accusing look, and this time it’s his turn to smile at him unapologetically. “I have been trying to get it out of him for months now; he won’t tell me, and trust me, I have tried everything.”

“He has,” TK pipes in with a shameless grin. “And I have enjoyed every attempt he’s made.”

TK laughs at the team’s collective groan as they go back to work, he turns towards Carlos, his laughter turning into a soft chuckle as he spots the sweet pink blush on his face.

“Brat,” Carlos scolds him when he sees his grin. “Stay where you are.”

TK shakes his head, dropping the hose to close the small distance between them. He smiles as he places his hands on Carlos’ hips, and he lets him.

They’ve been dating for four months now, they told his dad and the team after their first date, surprising absolutely no one.

The team has been nothing but supportive, but it still took a while for Carlos to be completely comfortable with displays of affection in the workplace, the old habit of keeping this part of himself on the DL at his old station lingering. Now when TK places his hands on his hips, Carlos wraps his around his neck.

“That’s a cute blush you got there, baby,” he whispers teasingly, loving how it makes Carlos turn pinker.

“You are a brat,” Carlos repeats but doesn’t pull away. “You’re lucky you’re also adorable.”

“And hot,” he adds, laughing when Carlos rolls his eyes at him.

“And humble,” he retorts sarcastically.

“Mmhmm,” TK nods, pressing his lips into a firm line to keep from smiling like an idiot. It doesn’t help; he can’t not smile when he’s in the presence of his boyfriend.

Carlos shakes his head softly at him; the look he gives him is tender and fond. “Are you ever going to tell me what the letters stand for?” he asks curiously.

“Does it bother you that I haven’t yet?” TK asks, his brow creasing in the middle with sudden worry. He’s never really considered that it might upset Carlos not to know what his initials stand for. He’s been called TK for as long as he can remember, that sometimes even he forgets the letters stand for something. It’s only when he has to fill out a form and sees his name in full that he remembers with a roll of his eyes. It’s not that he hates his name, it’s just that it’s so pretentious that he can’t help but groan when he hears it out loud.

“No,” Carlos says, shaking his head again. The hands on his shoulders now give the back of his neck a reassuring squeeze. “I mean, I’m curious as hell, obviously, and you keeping it a secret makes me think it’s something hilarious like Thacker Kale.”

“Thacker?” he questions incredulously. “Kale?”

“Hey, the Captain loves kale,” Carlos argues. “He totally could have named you after it.”

TK opens his mouth to answer only for the alarms of the firehouse to go off over their heads.

“To be continued,” Carlos says with a half-smile as he lets go of him.

TK gives him a nod, before turning to get ready. It takes them minutes to get into their gear and into the truck, his father in the front speaks to them through their headsets.

“Alright, we got a two-story house fire,” he starts. “Neighbors called it in, said they heard screams from inside, from what they told dispatch it’s a family of five. Two adults and three kids, it’s after nine, we have to assume they’re all home.”

TK looks around the truck; the crew is quiet and serious as they do last minute checks on their gear. Everyone's expression turns more severe as they turn into the street; the flames in the house are high; they seem to lick the sky.

They jump out of the truck before it completely rolls to a stop, right behind them is Captain Blake and her EMTs.

TK watches as his father assesses the situation quickly before giving them a sharp nod.

“Okay, I want Reyes, Ryder, and Strickland to start making their way inside the house,” his father says looking at the three men in question, they all nod back to him before going for their axes. “Strand, Marwani, Chavez, you’re on the hoses. We need to start controlling this now.”

TK looks at the house, the smoke is getting darker by the second, never a good sign and he feels a moment of trepidation. As Carlos starts to walk by him, he grabs at his turnout coat tightly.

“Be careful,” he says quickly, swallowing hard. It’s not the first time he’s told Carlos this. Usually, one of them says it if the other is going in, and it’s always met with a cocky grin. TK can see the beginnings of it on Carlos’ lips, but he must read the fear in his face because instead of a smile, Carlos gives him a serious look.

“Of course, baby,” he says softly, he gives the hand holding his coat a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

TK nods, reluctantly letting go of him, getting to work himself. He, Marjan, and Mateo handle the hoses with his dad; he focuses on the flames that are blessedly diminishing and not on the fact that the rest of his team is still inside.

Over the radio, he hears them as they go through the house and starts to breathe easier as they bring out members of the family. Once Paul has gotten the last civilian out – the father, Michelle and her team already treating the rest of the family – his dad calls out for everyone to evacuate.

“Reyes, Ryder, time to pull out, we got all of them,” he speaks into the radio, it takes a moment for the receiver to static back.

“Roger that, Cap,” Judd's voice rings out through all their sets. “We’re – shit!”

“Judd, report,” Owen says sharply as they hear a crash, the house, now fire-free, creeks ominously.

TK is moving towards the house before Judd is even done explaining the situation; he’s halfway across the lawn when a hand comes down hard on his shoulder, holding him in place. He swirls around, ready to curse whoever is daring to stop him, only to find his father giving him an unshakeable look that tells him before his father even speaks that he’s not going to let him go in.

“Dad – “ he tries anyway, pleading, letting out something between a scream and a sob when his father shakes his head at him remorsefully.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, still shaking his head. “You’re too close, TK; it can’t be you.”

TK wants to argue, but he sees that his father is already nodding towards Paul and Mateo.

“Get him out,” he tells them, his voice cracking as his eyes sting. “Please.”

Mateo and Paul look at him, worried but resolved. “You got it, brother,” Paul says softly as they head back inside.

“I’m climbing down, Cap,” Judd’s voice comes through again.

Judd keeps his radio on as he works, and TK can hear every grunt and huff as he moves, for a moment, that, and Paul and Mateo reporting in is all they hear. Carlos’ radio is silent even as his father keeps trying to call him.

“I can see him,” Judd shouts, it’s followed by more heavy breathing before he speaks again. “Carlos, bud, come on man, I need you to open your eyes for me now.”

TK covers his mouth; it’s the only thing that’s keeping him from screaming. He feels someone behind him, and then a small hand on his shoulder, he knows it belongs to Marjan without turning around. Her hand on him is the only thing that keeps him up when he hears a low groan come through the radio.

“That’s it, man, keep your eyes open,” Judd speaks, and then another pained filled groan follows it.

“T – “

TK grabs his radio quickly, bringing it to his mouth. “Carlos, sweetheart, can you hear me?” he asks, his heart races as he waits for an answer.

“TK,” Carlos gets out, his voice rough from the pain. “It hurts.”

“I know, babe,” he sniffs, not being able to stop the tears now. “Paul and Mateo are coming; they’re going to help Judd get you out, just hold on.”

Carlos doesn’t answer right away, when he does, what he says strikes TK with fear. “Tired.”

“No, Carlos,” he growls. “Don’t go to sleep; stay awake.”

“T-tell me,” Carlos starts, it’s obviously a struggle for him to stay alert. “S-something.”

TK lets out a choked sob at his words; they remind him of when they first got together, of Carlos being there for him when he needed comfort and a distraction from his own pain.

“Tyler Kennedy,” he says into the radio, not caring that everyone is listening. “That’s what TK stands for.”

֍֍֍

Waiting at the hospital is a nightmare, waiting for the man you love to wake up while in a hospital bed is hell on earth.

Paul, Judd, and Mateo had carried out an unconscious Carlos straight to Michelle and her team. TK had watched frozen as they worked on Carlos enough to get him conscious before they were speeding away in the ambulance.

It took everything to keep from climbing in with him, but he knew they still had a job to finish.

Now at the hospital, everyone lingers around the waiting room while he sits with Carlos waiting for him to wake up.

“Your mom and sisters are here,” he says softly. “I finally met Lola, she’s intense, and has decided she and I are going to be best friends and annoy you together. Be ready for that.”

He reaches out, touching Carlos’ face softly, making sure not to touch the bandage on his head. The doctors had run down the list of injuries, concussion, cracked ribs, and a ruptured spleen. The fall Carlos had taken was a rough one; the debris falling on him didn’t make it any better.

“I’m here, baby,” he whispers, squeezing his hand. “We’re all here.”

TK closes his eyes when his words are met with silence. Carlos is the quieter one of the two, while TK is the one with restless energy. Usually, it’s a calming force for TK as Carlos will listen until he tires himself out, now the quietness was driving him crazy.

“I love you,” he continues. “I know you know that, but I don’t say it nearly enough. I love you so much. I’m grateful every day that Judd recommended you to us. You walked into the 126 and became my teammate, my best friend, and the love of my life.”

He runs his fingertips down Carlos’ cheek, over his neck, and then lets it rest lightly over his heart, letting out a breath as he feels the steady beat.

“Can you open your eyes now for me, baby?” he asks pleadingly. “I told you my name, it’s not Thacker Kale, but it’s still ridiculous. I’m sure you have thoughts. I’ll let you make all the fun you want if you open those pretty brown eyes of yours for me right now,” he continues hopefully.

He lets his head drop on the bed next to Carlos’ hip when his request is again met with silence. He’s taking deep breaths to keep from crying when he feels a hand move over his hair.

“I think Tyler Kennedy is beautiful.”

TK lifts his head quickly, taking hold of the hand that is touching him as he finds Carlos looking at him with tired eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak only for a choked sob to come out, pressing his mouth into a firm line, he breathes deeply again until he can talk without breaking down.

“It’s pretentious,” he says shakily, as Carlos gives him a loving look.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlos repeats softly. “Just like you.”

TK lets out a wet laugh; he can’t stop the tears now as he stands to hover over Carlos.

“Hi,” he whispers with a watery smile on his face. “You scared me.”

“Hi,” Carlos whispers back, looking up at him remorsefully. “I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” he assures him, leaning down he touches the tip of his nose against Carlos’. “Please try not to do it again though. It turns out that I love you more than anything in this world and don’t handle you getting hurt very well.”

Carlos closes his eyes as he smiles, a tear running down his face. “Okay, Tyler,” he whispers.

TK pulls back to look at him, pouting when Carlos grins. “I’m going to regret that.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #30 days of tarlos #my writing #tk x carlos #firefighter Carlos! au #soooo this is now going to be a 4 part series #ending tomorrow cause i have no self-control

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ladylillianrose · 4 years

Text

The Best Laid Plans a Max Richman/Zoey Clarke Fanfiction

Summary: 5 times Max tries to propose to Zoey and one successful proposal

A/N: So this idea popped into my head the other day, and since I had trouble sleeping last night....tada!! I hope you all enjoy this fluff!

AO3

Max had it all planned out, a nice early dinner, a romantic walk along the beach to watch the sunset, and then he would ask her to marry him.

He had continuously checked the weather report, making sure that everything would be perfect. Sunny and 73 degrees, can't get much better than that.

Max had the ring in his pocket, it had been hidden away in his drawer for the past three years. Once he realized that he was no other woman for him than Zoey, he'd asked his mom for his grandmother's ring. It had been waiting there for the perfect moment, and today it was finally here.

Max had been nervous all day at work, unable to focus on any task at hand. What if she said no? She wouldn't...would she? No, he was certain that she would say yes.

He got home before she did, thankful to have a moment to calm himself down.

He opened the ring box and looked at it, imagining it on Zoey's finger. He smiled, a sense of calm washing over him.

"Babe? Are you in here?" he heard Zoey call out.

Shit! He quickly placed the box in his pocket, before heading out to greet her.

"Hello, love," Max smiled, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Mmm, hello to you too," Zoey grinned. She tried to deepen the kiss but Max reluctantly moved away.

"Come on, we've got to get ready."

"Wouldn't you rather stay in tonight? I can make it worth your while," she teasingly ran her fingers along his buttons.

Max counted to ten silently, attempting to steady himself. "You can make it worth my while, after dinner," he said, grabbing her hands before they slipped any lower.

Zoey pouted, "Fine….I guess I'll go get ready." She threw an extra sway in her hips as she walked into the bedroom to get ready.

Max breathed a sigh of relief and checked the weather again. Still sunny and warm, so far so good.

Dinner went by in a blur, Max was so nervous he couldn't even tell you what they ate. He spent most of the dinner checking his pocket obsessively to make sure the ring was still there.

As they left the restaurant, Max suggested they take a walk along the beach, hoping she wasn't becoming suspicious of his plan.

Zoey smiled, as she leaned on his shoulder, "That sounds lovely."

They made their way down to the beach, stopping to leave their shoes on a nearby rock.

As they walked hand in hand Zoey told him about the latest hijinks at work.

"Can you believe that Tobin actually got his ferret certified as an emotional support animal? She looks adorable in her little vest, riding around on his shoulder. Good thing Joan is too busy running the company to notice!" Zoey laughed.

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to her. He missed working at SPRQ Point, sometimes. But he found his true calling in helping out schools and libraries with their STEAM programs for kids. He was a natural teacher, his job allowed his creativity to flow and the children all adored him.

A cool wind picked up as the sun disappeared behind a cloud. Max glanced up and frowned, those were some very dark clouds overhead. Then he felt the first drops of rain beginning.

"Maybe we should head back," Zoey suggested.

"It's only a few drops. It's not that bad," Max replied, determined to not let a few raindrops spoil his proposal.

As if the heavens had decided to mock him, the rain began pouring down suddenly.

Max rolled his eyes at the sky and grabbed Zoey's hand. They raced back to where their shoes were and jumped into Max's car.

"Well, so much for romantic walks in the rain," Zoey quipped.

"Yeah, I don't think they mean this kind of rain," Max dryly replied.

Zoey leaned over to kiss him. "Well, it was still a lovely time. We'll go walk along the beach another day."

Max sighed and nodded as he started the car. He could feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket, he needed to come up with a new plan, and soon.

II.

After the rain fiasco, Max determined that keeping the proposal inside was a much safer option. He decided to surprise Zoey with a trip to the California Academy of Sciences. She loved going there when she was younger and had talked about going back when they had the time.

"Oh Max, let's go to the Planetarium next!" She said excitedly holding the map. He nodded and grinned at her eagerness, and they grabbed a spot line to wait for the next show to begin. Max glanced at his watch, 15 minutes till the show started, plenty of time.

He took a deep breath, "Zoey, there's something I've been…"

"Oh my gosh, Max look!" Zoey pointed at something in front of them.

Max turned to see a couple standing in front of the Planetarium, the man was down on one knee and holding out a box to the woman. A small crowd had gathered to watch the events unfold.

"Yes! A thousand times yes!" They heard the woman shriek in excitement.

Everyone burst into applause, except Max who stood there looking gobsmacked. "You have got to be kidding me," he mumbled, annoyed.

"That was so sweet," Zoey smiled at him.

"Yeah, really romantic," Max tried to keep his voice light.

"It was. So, what did you want to ask me?" Zoey said looking at him.

"Oh umm...I was thinking I might want to grow a beard and was wondering what your opinion was," he replied.

"You wanted to ask me if you should grow a beard or not?" Zoey looked at him puzzled. Max nodded, hoping she bought the lie.

"I mean, I hadn't really thought about it before, but yeah why not. I think it could be a good look."

"You do?" He asked in surprise.

"Oh yes, not like a full mountain man of course. But a little scruff could be very sexy," she smirked, running her hand along his smooth face.

"Well, then I'm glad I asked that important question," Max replied.

Zoey looked at him oddly and shrugged her shoulders, reading the program about what they would be seeing.

Max rolled his eyes at himself. Really a beard? That was the "important question?" There wasn't anything better you could have made up? Stupid couple ruining his plan, stealing his proposal idea.

The happy couple walked by them, "Congratulations!" Zoey called out.

"Wasn't it just so romantic?" The woman sighed, smiling at her fiance.

"It certainly was. Wasn't it, babe?" Zoey smiled at him.

"Oh yes, very romantic,” Max smiled tightly at them.

"Ooo, come on, the shows starting, " Zoey looped her arm through his and bid the couple farewell.

As Zoey enjoyed the show, Max began formulating a new plan, this one would leave nothing to chance.

III.

"No, I don't want to do the ring in her drink or food. I'll just give you guys the signal and then the violinist can come to the table and I'll propose then. It needs to be at the beginning of the meal….yes I know most couples wait until the end, but I'm not taking a chance with this. Yes, okay, thank you." Max hung up the phone, relieved that all the details were fixed with the restaurant. He and Zoey would go out to dinner, order their food and then Max would propose with the restaurant's violinist played nearby. It was the perfect plan.

Later That Evening

*sirens*

"How crazy is this?" Zoey said, huddled next to Max as they stood outside the restaurant.

"It's crazy alright," Max shook his head in disbelief.

"It's lucky no one was hurt in the fire," She replied.

"Except the violinist's violin and the waiter's pride," Max reminded her.

"Well honestly, the violinist shouldn't have placed himself there. Maybe then the waiter wouldn't have tripped over him knocking over all those candles. I wonder why he was standing so close to the table near us," Zoey rambled.

"Who knows, maybe someone had asked him to play nearby, " Max shrugged.

"Hmm, maybe. Well, I'm starving since we didn't get to eat. I think I saw a taco truck down the way," Zoey smiled at Max.

"Sure, tacos sound good."

"Come on, last one there is buying!" Zoey teased racing ahead of him.

Max chuckled, as he chased after her. He needed to stop trying to plan the perfect proposal. He would just carry the ring with him and ask her when the moment was right.

IV.

The park was crowded, though it always seemed to be that way for the summer concerts. Max and Zoey had forgotten about them when they had made plans to take a walk in the park.

At least the paths were clear, everyone was crowding over at the lawn to find a seat before the show started.

They strolled hand in hand along the pond, quietly enjoying the way the water reflected the sun.

Zoey sighed and smiled as she looked at Max. "It's so peaceful here," she said. "As though we were the only two people here."

Max grinned, this was it, this was the moment. Palming the ring box, he knelt on one knee behind her.

"Zoey…"

"YO, ZO-DOG!" They heard a voice yell.

Zoey turned and saw Tobin walking towards them. Was that Abigail with him?

"Hey!" Zoey grinned and waved at the couple as they approached.

Abigail smiled at Zoey as she leaned in for a hug.

"Hey bro, trouble with your shoe?" Tobin asked, looking down at Max who was still kneeling on the ground.

"Ummm yeah, just needed to tie it. All good now " Max replied. He slipped the box back in his pocket, before standing up.

"What are you guys doing here? I didn't even know you were seeing each other," Zoey commented.

"Oh yeah, we just started hanging out, outside of work and we just clicked. We're keeping it on the DL for now, but of course, you guys know all about that," Tobin tossed them a knowing wink.

"What? No, we weren't a thing when we worked together," Zoey sputtered as she blushed.

"Sure, whatever. Anyway, we were coming to check out the concert, but it's some lame dad rock cover band so we decided to ditch. Figured we could go grab some burgers instead," Tobin replied.

"Ooo, burgers sound good right about now. You mind if we tag along?" Zoey asked. She turned and silently asked Max if that was okay with him and he nodded.

Abigail grinned and signed, 'Of course not. The more the merrier!' She looped her arm through Zoey's and they started to make their way out of the park.

"You okay, bro? You seem a little tense," Tobin looked at over at Max.

"Nope, fine. Everything is just fine," Max ground out.

"Well, come on then!" Tobin ran excitedly ahead to catch up with the girls.

Max shook his head, he was beginning to feel like the universe had it out for him. He sighed and went to catch up with the group. Maybe a public proposal wasn't the way to go, too many things could go wrong or interfere. A more private proposal, just the two of them at home, that was the ticket.

It was movie night, they had maintained the tradition even after they started dating. Though once they became a couple there were a few times they had to rewatch the movies because they got too distracted during them.

It was Max's turn to pick and he had decided on, Big Trouble In Little China . He got everything set up, making sure the popcorn and wine were ready, so they could start as soon as Zoey got home. She'd been working long hours this week, she deserved to have a night where she could just kick back and relax.

Zoey came wearily trudging through the door and dropped her purse, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Welcome home, love," Max greeted her with a kiss.

"Mmmmm," she replied.

"Go put on your comfy clothes and then come sit on the couch. I've got everything ready, so you can take it easy," he told her.

"You're the best boyfriend ever," she smiled at him. Slowly she stumbled to their bedroom to change.

Max put away her purse and keys and poured her a glass of wine.

She emerged in her PJs and Max led her over to the couch. She snuggled up next to him and took a sip of her wine.

Max hit play and they started the movie.

Zoey was enjoying the film, it was ridiculous and totally 80's, but it was the kind of fun she needed after the week she had.

She glanced over at Max and grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"What was that for?" He smiled at her.

"Because I can," she replied, reaching for more popcorn only to find an empty bowl.

"I'll go make more," Max said standing up.

"You don't have to," Zoey protested.

"I want to," Max replied, placing a soft kiss on her lips. "Just relax, I'll be right back."

Max threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, as he watched Zoey from the corner of his eye. She was leaning on her hand against the armrest, totally absorbed in the film.

He smiled, this was everything he wanted in life, right here at home. It dawned on him that this was the perfect opportunity. He raced into the bedroom and retrieved the ring from his drawer.

He walked back out just as the microwave dinged. He poured the popcorn into the bowl and made his way back to the sofa.

He set the popcorn on the table and knelt on the floor next to Zoey's side of the sofa.

"Zoey, there's something I wanted to ask you," he started.

Zoey let out a small snore, causing Max to look up in surprise. She had fallen asleep…. Max shook his head and chuckled to himself. Poor Zoey, she was more tired than she had let on.

He set the box down and scooped her into his arms.

"I was watching that," she sleepily protested, snuggling against him.

"With your eyes closed?" Max teasingly asked.

"Hear better that way," came the mumbled reply.

"Mmhmm, and the snores?"

"I don't snore!"

"No, you're right, my mistake. Must have been someone else snoring."

"Hmph," Zoey responded.

Max gently placed her in their bed and tucked her in. "I love you, Zoey."

"I love you too, Max," she sleepily replied.

Max smiled and headed out to put away everything. He picked up the ring box and sighed, someday he'd get the chance to ask her, and it would be absolutely perfect.

+ 1

Zoey jiggled her leg nervously under the table where they sat.

"Zoey, are you okay? You look pale..er than usual," Max asked her.

"No, I'm fine. I'm actually really happy*," Zoey replied grinning at him.

"Oooookay," Max said looking at her oddly.

Mo had invited them to hear him perform at a local bar's open mic night, so they went to support him.

"When do you think Mo is on?" Max asked.

"Mmm, I don't know. Oh, look here he comes," Zoey pointed to the stage.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Mo, but I am not the one who will be dazzling you tonight with my voice."

Max looked at Zoey confused, and she shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Instead, my good friend, Zoey Clarke, has a very special performance for you all," Mo grinned and gestured for Zoey to come up.

Max stared at her as she stood up and tossed a wink at him as she made her way to the stage. Mo handed her the microphone, "Thank you Mo. Hello everyone, I'm Zoey Clarke, and Max, this one's for you."

Zoey blew Max a kiss and began to sing.

I had no choice but to hear you

You stated your case time and again

I thought about it

You treat me like I'm a princess

I'm not used to liking that

You ask how my day was

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole

You're so much braver than I gave you credit for

That's not lip service

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

You are the bearer of unconditional things

You held your breath and the door for me

Thanks for your patience

Max watched, stunned as Zoey sang to him. She began to make her way off the stage still singing, as she walked towards him.

You're the best listener that I've ever met

You're my best friend

Best friend with benefits

What took me so long

I've never felt this healthy before

I've never wanted something rational

I am aware now

You've already won me over in spite of me

And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet

And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are

I couldn't help it

It's all your fault

The music stopped as Zoey stood in front of him smiling. She slowly lowered herself to one knee. "Max Richman, you are the love of my life, my best friend, and I can't imagine spending another moment without you by my side. Will you marry me?"

Max slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring box. "That was supposed to be my line," he grinned. "Yes, Zoey Clarke, I'll marry you!"

Max pulled her up, slipping the ring on her finger before capturing her lips with his.

Around them, everyone in the bar cheered and congratulated them.

They pulled apart flushing and breathless.

"I guess the universe was trying to tell me something after all," Max grinned.

Zoey looked at him confused.

"I'll tell you later."

"I'm just glad everything went smoothly. You have no idea how worried I was that something would go wrong or ruin it!" Zoey told him.

"No, you're right, I haven't a clue how that feels," he laughed and pulled her into another kiss.

A/N: Song is "Head Over Feet" by Alanis Morissette (Listen to it here https://youtu.be/4iuO49jbovg)

*Episode 1x07

#clarkeman fanfiction #Clarkeman #max x zoey #zoey x max #max x zoey fanfiction #zoey x max fanfiction #max richman #zoey clarke #Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist #zoey's extraordinary playlist fanfiction #ZoeysPlaylist #Zoeysplaylist fanfiction #zoeys playlist #Zoeys playlist fanfiction #fanfiction #The Best Laid Plans

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psychopersonified · 4 years

Text

KIdnapped!Q - Part 2

Continued from Part 1 here.

---------

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

-----------

Notes: The event told roughly from Bond's POV especially the first half. Plus the aftermath. This is me trying to get into Bond's head. Also, let's all get on Bond's case shall we?

Towards the end, there is exposition of technical plot. I've tried to interject it with humour and also to use this opportunity for character development.

Some parts borrowed heavily from Spectre (movie) but does not take place in that universe.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Level 5 Lobbby, SIS (MI6) HQ

Kneeling beside Q in the Level 5 lobby of MI6 HQ, Bond vacillates between being livid at himself and overwrought with worry for Q. The young man is crumpled unconscious on the marble floor. He had seen it coming. Q was already too pale in the car, lips almost colourless. He had to call Q’s name twice before he responded to exit the vehicle.

He should have dealt with it in the parking garage, instead of turning Q into a spectacle here in the lobby. He recognised the symptoms of hyperventilation when he saw it. Bond was hoping to get Q to medical before helping him recover.

He checks Q’s pulse, rapid but weak. He’s breath is still shallow. If medical doesn’t get there in the next minute, he’s going to pick Q up and carry him there. A crowd is forming around them. Level 5 lobby is the main exchange lobby inside HQ - where the ‘public’ meets the ‘secret’. The floors above level 5 house the Executive and Operational branches. Level 5 and below that are the public facing areas - accounts, administrative, HR, logistics, cafeteria, etc. To get to the upper levels, they have to change to the restricted lift banks further to the rear of the building.

And now, it’s right in the middle of the workday morning. Curious staff from both upstairs and downstairs are standing around staring. Bond wants badly to tell them to -piss off-, but it would just make rumours spread faster.

Dr. Chen arrives just then with two of her aides, a crash cart and a gurney. Together they put Q onto the gurney, checking his vitals on the way to Medical.

“BP 87/60. Pulse 110. Oxygen saturation 92%. Glucose levels 61mg/dL,“ One of the medical aides report.

“He’s borderline hypoxic and in hypoglycaemic shock. Prepare glucagon shot, and glucose IV drip.” Dr Chen orders as they fit Q with an oxygen mask.

Knowing Q, he likely hadn’t taken breakfast yet that morning either. He was still asleep when Bond left for HQ. Add that to the fact that Q barely had dinner the night before; appetite suppressed by the cold he was having - he was running very low on reserves.

—

The treatment room doors close in his face. One of the senior nurses had brandished a folded stethoscope in his face like a weapon and told him to stay. That was Maria, a straight talking matronly nurse of Pilipino descent, the only nurse in medical that isn’t afraid of his 00-status despite being nearly a foot shorter than him. So he’s now left pacing the corridor outside.

—

Earlier that day

When his phone buzzed that morning with a security alert ::Lobby Alert:: , 007 was in a meeting in the operations centre with M, Tanner and 004 running through plans for the next mission in Libya. A local warlord was buying guns presumably to fight ISIS insurgents but intel has it that he’s gone from fighting them to suppling them - profits were better.

007 had excused himself to a corner to check the app that would give him access to the security cameras in Q’s building. The sight of the three men at the door with the battering ram had him on his feet in an instant - heart in his throat. The distress signal came through seconds later.

He was out of the conference room door in seconds and into the main operations area where the wall of monitors stood. R was there and had apparently received the same alert - the warning flashing red and urgent across one of the monitors.

“007, Sir!” R called out to him from across the room, “Q’s distress signal was just activated.” R looked to Bond like he might have an explanation.

M and the others in the conference room had followed him out when they noticed him leave abruptly.

“I just received the same alert. Security cameras show three men attempting to gain access.” Bond held up his phone to indicate how he knew.

Panic flickered across R’s face for a moment; but her training kicked in and she started calling out orders to the minions around her, “Executive Protocol Q! Attempted forced entry at Quartermaster’s residence in progress. I want CCTV feeds around his residence. Get the police on the line, how fast can they get a patrol unit there-...”

What happened next was a flurry of activity. Bond’s only deference to protocol was to turn to M and nod his leave before sprinting out. Tanner caught up with him at the lifts, a tablet in hand. He swiped his Chief of Staff card and tapped a short code that would give him (or more accurately M) preferential lift access in emergencies.

“M says to take his car. R can patch through the feeds and update us on the way.” Bond would normally object to having someone tag along with him, but in this instance a government vehicle with its blues-and-twos flashing would get them through traffic quicker.

By the time they got to the parking garage, they were joined by another team of agents. Tanner had the keys to M’s Jaguar and took position as driver, he signalled to one of the other agents jump into the front passenger seat - leaving 007 to stew in the back. The remaining agents followed in a separate vehicle.

“Tanner... a little more speed would be appreciated.”

“007, why don’t you pay attention to the tablet and help R out?” Tanner suggested politely.

007 flung the door open before the car even made a full stop. He engaged the second assailant just as Q made it across the Jag’s bonnet to the other side. Bond would later dispute the police report that indicated excessive force was used to subdue the assailant. A broken nose, partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee was hardly excessive in his line of work.

—---

Present

Dr Chen emerges from the treatment room 15 minutes later.

“He’s fine. He’s fine.” Chen holds up her hands to placate Bond before he can do his double-0 looming. “Oxygen levels are back to normal and blood glucose readings are back up. He just needs rest and some food in him.”

Q comes fully around in half an hour. The glucose and oxygen supplement doing wonders. He’s sitting up on the recovery bed having tea and biscuits that Bond managed to retrieve from Q’s stash in Q-Branch.

Mallory and Eve are present as well, intercepting Q before Bond has had a chance to see him privately. Pleasantries done, M leaves the room and gestures for 007 to follow him out, leaving Eve to continue her conversation with Q.

—

Outside Recovery Room A

“007, It’s been a trying day. How are you?” M opens.

Bond makes a non-committal sound, “Sir. I know you didn’t want to see me to discuss my mental health.”

M sighs. Why must everything be so difficult with this one.

“Fine. I want to discuss Q’s protection detail for the next few weeks until we get this threat sorted. You are off the Tripoli mission next week, 004 will be taking lead,” M offers.

Bond would normally protest, but this time he makes no move. Internally he is relieved. This saves him from having to come up with an excuse for why he won’t be going.

“We’re going to have to move Q to a secure location. MI5 has safe houses and resources we can tap into— “ Mallory sees the snarl forming on 007’s lips and quickly adds, ”—but I have a feeling you are going to want to have a say in it.”

Bond backs down and considers a moment. “I still have my place. The floorplan is easy to secure. A few upgrades and it should be adequate.”

“And the rest of the detail?”

“I’ll… need two more officers. Better yet, field agents in line for the 00-program. Consider this their asset protection training.”

M nods in approval. But something is left unsaid. M decides that it is time to get it out of the agent.

“How long has it been going on?” Bond knows M is not talking about the protection detail anymore.

“Just over a year.” He says matter of fact looking at a point past M’s shoulder. Bond isn’t volunteering more information than that. M doesn’t look surprised. If anything, he looks thoughtful.

Both men are clearly uncomfortable with the personal segue of the conversation. A pause and they both look away and clear their throats at the same time.

M ends the discussion on something they are more accustomed to, “Well, I trust you have this area under control. Tomorrow morning, we’ll reconvene to discuss any information R and Forensics can recover.”

Bond nods. “Very well, sir.” The fact the M hasn’t removed him from the case is consent enough.

——

Inside Recovery Room A

“How are you?” Eve rubs his blanket covered shin.

“Aside from it being one of the worst days of my life? Alright all things considered.“

Eve reaches over to give him a tight hug, more for her own sake than Q’s, “You had everyone so worried!… Thank goodness for the pen.”

“Yes well… Bond’s penchant for pilfering Q-branch equipment finally came in handy.”

Eve ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his cheek, “You did really well today. I’m so proud of you.”

Q shrugs, what can he say? He doesn’t feel particularly proud. More numb if anything now that’s it’s over. Eve seems to sense this and goes for humour instead, ”Did Tanner tell you? He put 007 in the backseat of the Jag on the way to you.”

“I did wonder about that…” He could imagine Bond’s ire at having to relinquish control and wait patiently. Eve and Q share a conspiratorial smile.

“The rumour mill is spinning in overdrive; thought you might to know. It was quite the spectacle this morning in the lobby.”

Q pinches the bridge of his nose; mortified. “Not my finest moment I’ll admit. I’ve single handedly destroyed what little street cred Q-Branch had left.”

“Oh Q... that’s not what people are talking about—,” at his blank look, she unlocks the phone in her hand and pulls up the internal messaging app. She scrolls to a video and selects it before showing it to him.

It was of Q crumpled dramatically on his side just in front of the lift banks. 007 is crouched over him, one of his hands cradling Q’s head. Tanner is standing nearby, phone to his ear. The video captures 007’s other hand coming up to touch the pulse point at Q’s neck. A few moments later the agent looks up, taking in the crowd, his eyes a blazing blue, expression tinged with fear. Dr. Chen arrives soon after, cutting off the view from that angle.

Oh… OH…- In his mind, Q had expected the incident to be far more comical. A tech boffin kissing the floor from panic induced hypoxia has the potential to be the stuff of comic legend; if schadenfreude was your cup of tea. But the video was far from amusing. Poignant would be a more accurate description. Bond will be a handful to deal with later.

At the sobering thought, Q changes the subject, “Did I make the tele?”

Eve grins and nods,”All morning… breaking news and all. It’s being spun as a possible terror attack, as shots were fired and we need to maintain your cover. Mallory negotiated a quid pro quo with MI5. They are getting credit for the quick response in apprehending the suspects in exchange for publicly copping to counter-terrorism failure.”

“There were quite a lot of shots exchanged. Was anyone hurt?” Q recalled the street was rather busy.

“Aside from the assailants, none seriously. Some civilian injuries, but all stable.” That assuages his guilt somewhat.

“Has anyone been to the flat?”

“Forensics is taking a look now.”

“Derek, the officer in the lobby? Is he—“

“He’s just out of surgery. Critical but stable.” This is why Q loves Eve, she knows everything.

“Don’t suppose anyone knows what happened to the cats?” Q is a little sheepish to be asking about his pets when human lives were threatened this morning.

“The cats are fine. Emily from forensics found them huddled in the laundry room. She’ll bring them back here at the end of her shift,” Eve reassures him, “But at the moment, your lion is loose and prowling the halls.”

Ah right, “Eve… does everyone know?”

Eve smiles at him, “Q... everyone’s known for months. Including Mallory.”

Just then the door opens and Bond reenters. Eve takes her leave. She pats Bond on his bicep on the way out and he acknowledges with a nod. When she’s cleared the doorway, he closes the door and locks it behind her. Finally. Some privacy.

Bond is silent intent when he comes to sit on the recovery bed facing Q. He removes the mug of tea from Q’s hands and sets it safely aside - gently demanding.

He leans in to wrap his arms tightly around Q, crushing Q against his chest. He runs his calloused hands over Q’s back, neck and into his hair - then buries his nose in that unruly mop of hair, breathing in deeply. When he’s a little calmer, a little more composed - he relaxes his hold to nuzzle Q around the temple before going in for a kiss, hands still stroking the sides of Q’s face and neck.

Q’s glasses are askew from all the petting. “Alright… I’m alright…. ,“ He soothes the agent, and has to take hold of Bond’s hands to quiet him. He knows Bond in this unsettled mood - a predator caught off guard, challenged… insecure. Bond would very well take things too far to reassure himself if Q lets him. And this isn’t an appropriate time or place.

“Are you still going to Tripoli on Monday?” Q tries to distract the clingy agent.

“No. M stood me down… I’ve been reassigned as your PPO,” Bond rumbles softly into his hair.

“Aren’t you a little overqualified to play bodyguard?” Q needles him.

“Hmm… you deserve the best,” he mumbles into the corner of Q’s mouth.

Q snorts at the backhanded compliment Bond’s paid himself.

Bond whispers, “I’ve been told I’m rather good at what I do.”

Bravado. Let him have it- Q thinks, “You’re incorrigible.”

“And you’re precious,” Bond had not intended that to be out loud, and is a little embarrassed even before Q calls him out on it.

“Gah! You’re incredibly mushy today,” Q pushes him away lightly, mock cringing.

Bond leans back, but his hands have escaped and have wandered around Q’s waist, thumbs caressing the ticklish flesh, “Considering the events of today, I think I’m entitled.” Bond leans back in for a kiss.

Pillow talk. They’re engaging in pillow talk in the middle of the day in Medical. -Surreal- Q thinks.

The door handle rattles. Bond squeezes his eyes shut and exhales in exasperation -Seriously, can everyone just piss off!

Undeterred by the universal sign for a request to privacy, the person the other side raps on the door.

Bond goes to unlock it. Q picks up his tea to hide his mirth.

The door opens to reveal Nurse Maria sporting a -very- disapproving scowl. She’s back to check in on Q’s condition. She keeps her eyes on Bond as she enters, keeping him at bay with her stare alone. Bond moves away to a decent distance and stands at parade rest, eyes straight ahead; the very picture of obedience.

She turns to Q and fusses over his vitals and starts removing the IV drip.

“Rest. No more dangerous stunts. Eat more... Too skinny. Tsk!” she makes a sound of disapproval.

“The boyfriend don’t feed you??” she shakes her head and sends a glare at Bond’s direction indicating what she thinks about his efforts.

Q nearly spit takes his tea. He forces it down, choking in the process.

Bond clears his throat. “I think… you’ll find the boyfriend tries his best,” he grinds out, still looking straight ahead, his tone betraying more than a little indignation.

“Hmph…” Maria huffs unimpressed, as she fluffs Q’s pillow.

Mercilessly she adds, “Maybe the boyfriend is too busy. Always travelling. You should tell him to slow down. Spend more time at home.”

All this she directs at Q but there is no mistaking who the words are actually for.

“I’ll umm… I’ll make sure to let him know.” Q tries to defuse the situation. If it comes down to an actual contest of words between those two, Q’s not sure Bond would win.

——

Quartermaster’s Residence

Late that afternoon, once forensics is done collecting evidence, Bond is back home - well technically Q’s place. He speaks to Emily, Head Forensics Tech onsite for an update.

“Place is untouched, only damage appears to be the door. Nothing appears to be out of place, but you’d be able to tell better than us. It doesn’t look like the assailants bothered to search for anything. Which confirms the suspicion that they were not after anything, but Q himself.”She informs him - which to Bond is the worst case scenario. Q has something they want, and if the failed attempt today does not dissuade them, then they will try again.

“We’ll have some technicians back onsite to secure the door at least temporarily and do a more thorough sweep… Right then, cats are in their carriers in the laundry room. Do you still want us to take them to HQ?”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll take it from here. Thank you Emily.” Emily pats him on the shoulder much like Eve did before leaving.

Bond has two other agents with him:

Agent Monica Chalmers, former Squadron leader in the Royal Air Force, calm, tough as nails with surprisingly good hand to hand combat skills for a pilot.

Agent Peter Coyle former Major in the Royal Marines, good all rounder but with a dormant sense of rebelliousness that Bond see lying just beneath the highly disciplined exterior.

Both are experienced field agents and nine months into the Double-0 program and top of their batch. He’d consulted 009 earlier for his recommendation and Bond remembered them from the selection weekend ten months ago when he assisted 009 in the testing process.*

Bond gets them to help pack a few bags for Q as well as collect any projects and papers he was working on - directing them where things are and pointing out the items he wants packed.

When they’re done and about to leave, Bond emerges form the laundry room with his own bag and a cat carrier, “I hope the both of you like cats.”

Chalmers is quick to indicate affirmative. Coyle hesitates a split second too long; 007 smells blood and smiles sharkily. “Well you do now,” and promptly hands over the carrier case to him.

-—-

Notting Hill, Chelsea

Then they swing by MI6 to pick up Q before heading to Bond’s place in Chelsea.

They have a polite dinner, all four of them standing around the kitchen bar, because Bond’s bachelor pad lacks any real furniture. Bond refuses to be embarrassed. The place smells musty from disuse, and the overhead lighting is harsh and unflattering. It’s in a very nice part of town, but the place is frankly depressing. Q’s only been here a handful of times. Barely furnished and incomplete, it represents Bond’s past - he still comes by time to time especially after missions where he’s had to do some morally questionable things. He comes here to shed the proverbial filth so to speak; before returning to his present, his life with Q. Psychological compartmentalisation in physical form.

Q had let the cats out to explore. Jellicles the younger tuxedo cat is curious, zooming about the place and chattering to himself. Q thinks his boldness is due to the place not smelling entirely alien. Bond had to pull the cat off the hanging kitchen lights at one point.

But Spot (after Data’s cat) the older orange moggie is having none of it. The big former street cat is attempting to climb Q’s jeans, wanting to be held and cuddled. Q finally gives up and picks up the cat and hitches it to his side like child - the large moggie is as heavy as one too. With the cat mollified, Q can finish his dinner.

After dinner, Q transfers the cat to Bond’s arms before excusing himself to shower and get ready for the night. Bond is in his usual white shirt open at the collar, gun holster still around his shoulders. The orange cat fidgets in his arms, head-butting him under the jaw. Jellicles who was lounging on the kitchen bar now feels left out and is reared up on his hind legs, front paws on Bond’s other shoulder, meowing incessantly. “Yess, alright…,” he sets down his fork in mild annoyance to pet the cat along his long sinuous spine and get him to sit back down.

Agents Chalmers and Coyle exchange a look. Here is the idolised spy, the revered Double-0 agent, the man himself in his private setting and nothing lives up to expectation. The cognitive dissonance throws them.

Bond ever the observant one catches their open stares, understanding immediately. His voice is low, tired even, heavy with the the years of service and untold horrors he’d witnessed and done, “They lie in the brochures. I hope neither of you are doing it for the lifestyle.” And that concludes Bond’s pearl of wisdom for the day.

When they’re done clearing up, Bond gives them their instructions.

“Familiarise yourselves with the floorplan, entry and exits. Let me know what improvements we need and an escape plan for contingencies.”

“In the evenings when I’m around, you won’t need to stay. Check in with the police guards outside and have them keep watch of the building. But I won’t be here all the time. At some point I -will- leave to go after whoever is behind this.”

“The both you will need to take turns sleeping on the couch. Or make alternative arrangements for him if the threat becomes untenable. We’ll discuss more tomorrow.“

With that, they’re dismissed.

——

That night, when the lights are out, and they’re both scrubbed clean of the days’ stress - Bond crawls into bed behind Q. Q can sense it in the cautiousness and light tremors in Bond’s movements, like he’s trying to keep it together.

Once his guard drops, James is near inconsolable. Wrapped possessively around Q, hands everywhere, legs tangled - his face is buried in the back of Q’s neck. The man is silent, except for the harsh and erratic breathing - and not the good kind either. The back collar of Q’s pyjamas is wet with tears.

Q does his best to soothe, petting and rubbing the muscled arms wrapped around him. He brings the man’s hands up to his face and kisses the cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “James, I’m alright…. I’m right here…” he whispers over and over.

He doesn’t try to stop the emotional breakdown, better to let him have it. Q feels a little guilty, he’s feeling somewhat detached from the days’ traumatic events. Maybe it’s because he got to panic while it was happening and it is now out of his system. He’s cool and calm now while James suffers the emotional fallout.

Q recalls the video that Eve presented to him earlier in the afternoon. The camera capturing with stunning clarity the raw emotion behind the agent’s blue eyes. If the agent knew about the video, he’d make the person who took it will disappear. Which reminds Q to make a mental note to nuke the video from the messaging platform in the morning.

James is past the tears now and demanding more. The soothing caresses turning to something more serious, more consuming. Q is more than happy to give. They comfort each other until they’re both exhausted enough to fall asleep.

---------

Saturday 10:00

SIS (MI6) Ops Centre Level 9 - Operations Room C.

R is providing sitrep. Images flash across the wall of screens to the front of the room.

“…—The ambulance was stolen from the Forest Hill Station south of London. Three assailants. Two in custody--” Their mugshots appear on screen:

Assailant 1 sports a bandaid under his chin. “…— is under medical observation for possible head trauma from hitting the cobblestone street—…”

Assailant 2 is much worse off, broken nose, a large hematoma under the right eye, and ugly bruising across the throat. “…— is also under medical observation for a partially crushed windpipe and dislocated knee.”

“Hospital will not release them for questioning until Sunday or Monday at the latest. Human rights and all. Third assailant was cornered by our agents, but opened fire into the crowd. Luckily there were no serious injuries. Agents stood down to avoid risk to civilian population and the assailant escaped on a stolen motorcycle.”

“Facial recognition places them as local members of a south London crime syndicate. Armed robbery, money laundering and the likes - serious crimes but nothing on the scale that would suggest going after a head of department in SIS.”

“Hired muscle. Nothing more. So that if the attempt fails or they get caught, it can’t be traced to whoever ordered it,” M concludes.

“Yes, sir. But they would have to know where to drop the asset off if it were successful though.” Agent Chalmers chimes in.

“Note the unusual timing; in the middle of a workday morning meant that they had to know that Q would be home at the time. That he was relatively unguarded—“ that Bond wasn’t home, was left unsaid. “—which means they were watching. Or told when to initiate the attempt.” Tanner added.

Q is only half paying attention to the discussion. Mark from IT-Branch came in earlier to hand him three new boxes of electronics - bless him. A new phone, laptop and hotspot router (because Bond’s place has no telephone or internet); unboxing them was like taking a hit for an addict in withdrawal. Q is preoccupied with setting them up and re-downloading data from the secure cloud services. He feels nearly like himself again. He had spent most of yesterday without them and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“The place was untouched. The target was Q. What worries me is motive. Why would anyone take such a risk to provoke MI6 by abducting the Quartermaster knowing we would have the motivation and resources to go after them. Not unless the payoff is something that would massively change the way they forward their agenda. It has to be something they need him for. Something they can’t replicate, not even if they had the plans.” 007 concludes.

M who was rocking lightly in his chair whilst listening stops, leans forward and sighs. He looks over at Q, “What have you been working on?”

Mallory couldn’t keep track of all of it. Yes Q-Branch spent millions in R&D but they made the government (and by extension secured SIS funding) at least ten times what they spent. Declassified plans, schematics and programming codes sold at auction to private defence, Infosec and engineering companies for tens of millions.

The Q-Branch minions might be the butt of jokes at times in SIS, but their work not only kept operatives alive but helped keep the lights on in MI6. It is no wonder that MI5 wanted a slice of that pie. Sometimes M wondered why Q hasn’t left to go work in private. He’d asked him that once, and all he got in reply was something to the effect of ‘reigning in egomaniacal tendencies with public oversight and knowing which side you’re on’.

“Take your pick—” Q huffs in mild frustration, then realises who he was speaking to and adds,”—Sir.”

Q’s feeling tetchy this morning. Aside from tech withdrawal, his cold had gotten worse so his nose is completely stuffed. The general fatigue that accompanies a cold is exacerbated by his aching leg muscles from all that running the day before. Then he’d discovered he’d ripped a nail right off the finger bed in his haste to remove the hard drive so it stings when he types. He’s feeling a full on sulk coming. Bond already bore the brunt of his crabbiness this morning attempting to get him ready to come in to HQ.

“What about the project you’ve been working on with Mark? With the Shadow Network?” R said trying to be helpful.

“What about it? And please, I prefer Gemini Network - sounds less villainy.”

“I heard Mark say it could be a game changer, that it will give us the upper hand when it comes to controlling information.”

“Well in theory….” Q is being a little evasive.

Mallory looks over at Eve and tips his chin up at her. Eve knows at once to go and fetch Mark. They’ve learned over the years that when Q says something is ‘in theory’, it means he’s already gone ahead and built a proof a concept it or at the very least it tested the theory.

Mark enters the operations room like he’s been summoned to the headmasters office. “Sir? You asked to see me?”

“Tell us about the Gemini Network.” M dives right in without preamble.

“You mean the Shadow Network?” Mark looks for clarification.

“Why does everyone insist on calling it that?…” Q is slightly miffed.

Mark begins, “Well, the concept started years ago when we first used it to trap Silva in his earlier days. Quantum was trying to undermine your predecessor through Q-Branch, cascade of equipment failures leading to the death of a field agent. Basically we built a replica of Q-Branch systems and let Silva run his virus in it to learn what he was doing.”

“Since then we’ve evolved and developed the concept into a full shadow network that now protects MI6 systems. We created an AI shepherded by our cybersecurity team that patrols our systems; learning the normal functions - what’s secure, what’s not.” Mark pauses to check if everyone is still following.

“The idea is that when an anomaly in the system is detected, the AI isolates the suspicious node and shunts it into its shadow network. The shadow network presents itself as a legitimate fully functioning system and lets whatever suspicious activity continue unchallenged. But all the while it is watching and learning. It then flags the human team who can then decide if it is harmless or a legitimate threat. We can then use what it learns to patch the actual system. Think of it like an evolving immune system for cybersecurity. The more it learns the more robust it gets.”

Q then reasons, “The AI represents thousands of hours of machine training and learning, valuable in it of itself. But not impossible to recreate - though having MI6 as a training ground does make it harder for anyone to catchup to it.”

Bond notices Mark’s excited body language. The man is almost bouncing on his toes, “But… I’m guessing there is more to this…?”

Marks looks to Q and they have a non-verbal exchange. Those two are thick as thieves when it comes to programming, though Mark still refuses to transfer to Q-Branch for the sake of his sanity. Bond has met Mark numerous times, he likes the guy. Mark looks up to Q like an adoring little brother wanting someday to be just as good. Which means he’s an enabler who goes along with Q’s ideas without any sense of self preservation.

“Recently, Mark and I found a new application for it. We managed to package the AI into a worm that can be used to infiltrate a target network. It will still require us to inject it behind a firewall, either through hacking or physically. But once inside, it starts watching and learning - filtering traffic internally between nodes; as well as incoming and outgoing traffic outside of the network. It will sit dormant until activated…”

Eve’s eyes are wide, “Oh boys, what have you created?”

“…When activated, it will deploy the Shadow Network, into which we can shunt specific network traffic. A) The captured node still thinks its in the master system and functions normally. B) The AI then replaces the captured node with a mimic so to the master system, nothing is amiss.”

“The beauty of this is that it does not require us to crack security. When authentication is required, the AI simply returns the node back in to authenticate before shunting it back out. Do you see? We can compel any system to unlock its door by hiding behind the captured node.“ Mark points out looking like he’s about to explode with excitement.

Even Tanner is stunned now. R, who has heard it all before and told them repeatedly how dangerous of an idea this was - has her hands pressed together as if in prayer covering her mouth

“The node itself is tricked into thinking it is still interacting with the master system - which makes it voluntarily reveal information which we can collect or use as we see fit. Alternately we can seed it with misinformation to bring back to the master system.”

“Its the ultimate spy - Agent 1001.” Mark declares gleefully. His attempt at humour falls flat. If he‘d added Ta-Da! at the end of it, Bond was going to cuff him behind the head.

Mark pulls himself together and continues, “In practical terms it means we can change literally any information - while both sides remain unaware because there are now two truths depending on which network you are interacting with. ”

“But that’s just the start—.” Q takes over.

“There’s more?“ Mallory drawls out, feeling a migraine coming.

Q is apologetic, “What’s the most secure form of record keeping at the moment? …Blockchain. A set of records linked cryptographically together, with a distributed ledger that technically guarantees security. You can’t change any data in a block retroactively without changing all the subsequent blocks…. not unless you have consensus of at least 51% of all the nodes in the ledger.“

“Q… As riveting as this exposition is, get to the point.” Bond’s tone is a warning, his consonants sharper. Even he’s catching on to where this is leading and dreading it.

“Yes alright..” Q doesn’t get why everyone seems more upset than impressed.

”The point is, theoretically if we manage to get the worm into a peer-to-peer network and let spread throughout, we can apply the Shadow Network concept to launch a mass ‘eclipse attack’ on the distributed ledger. The nodes in the network must stay in constant contact to compare data for consensus. If the AI shunts off enough of the nodes into its Shadow Network and manage to trick 51% of the nodes into accepting our version of the chain before returning it, we change the ledger. Change the ledger and—“

“—You’ve hacked blockchain.“ Eve finishes for him, disbelieving.

“So are we talking about bitcoin?” Agent Coyle hazards a guess.

“Oh Agent Coyle… cryptocurrency is just the beginning. Just imagine any database that depends on blockchain for its immutability. Voting records? Supply chains? Financial records? Anti-counterfeit measures? The Shadow Network lets you - Change. Your. Digital. Reality.” Q finishes with a flourish; in purely intellectual terms, the concept is truly quite clever.

Tanner looks to Mallory alarmed,“Sir… 35 central banks are now experimenting with issuing digital state currencies on blockchain. At least 10 will be going ahead in this year and another 15 in the next 2 years.“

Silence. You could hear a pin drop.

Bond who has been standing off to the side of the monitors in his characteristic agent pose, legs apart one hand in his pocket; exhales loudly and points out ominously, “So whoever controls the AI, controls the Shadow Network and everything it can do - the Shadow Master. “

All heads in the room turn to Q….

“Yes, that would be one way of putting it. Personally, I prefer the term Shadow Architect,” Q chortles at the absurdity of the comic villain names.

But no one one else is laughing. And they’re all looking at him expectantly. Except Mark, he laughs at all of Q’s jokes.

-Christ-. Bond is torn between wanting to strangle the oblivious idiot himself and wanting to put the genius in a glass cage for his own safety.

A moment later, Q has a dawning realisation about what he’s managed to get himself into this time.

“It..Its just theoretical!” Denial.

“Technically this belongs to SIS…” Bargaining.

“We just thought it would be a helpful tool for our operatives to turn the odds in their favour!” Anger.

“What in the world possessed me to think…” Depression

“Owwh shit.” Acceptance.

Q stops his pacing in front of the monitor wall and collapses into a chair nearby. Elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

When he’s done cycling through emotions, M raises and eyebrow,“Well, I’m glad we’ve all come to the same conclusion,” M’s sarcasm flies over his head.

——

As a result of the meeting, Q & Mark are sent away to put their project into a secure vault in the servers - until M knows what to do with it. Q feels like they’ve just been sent to ‘time out’ - to think about what they’ve done.

Once he’s done that, he goes to Q-Branch to serve out his sentence.

Q-Branch is the only ‘secret’ arm in SIS that is located between the garage and basement bunkers. It’s more practical that way as larger projects (cars, boats, etc) would be a logistical pain to move if they were on the upper levels. Three whole floors make up Q’s lair that he shares with thirty or so minions.

It’s Saturday, so only a skeleton crew is present most of them are working in the floors below. None are in the office areas.

Bond is still in the meeting upstairs with M and the others. So Q makes himself tea and sticks his nose in the steam curling out of the mug to open his sinuses. He’s running through the theory he’s told the others in his head - trying to poke holes in it. But no, the simulation running on his computer is telling him how terrifyingly efficient the AI would be once activated.

The main doors to Q-Branch offices hiss open. Q doesn’t turn around, knowing who it is. Bond comes to sit a little noisily in a swivel chair next to him, facing the other way. He’s radiating ‘we need to talk’ vibes, but even then Bond usually just invades his space until Q speaks first.

“James, I’m sorry about being a tosser this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. The eggs were fine.” Q makes a peace offering. And since no one is around, he reaches out to trace a finger around Bond’s tie pin.

Bond doesn’t move away which means he’s forgiven. Thats the thing with Bond, he’s not really a man of many words when he’s not actively trying to charm a mark. So when he does want to talk, best pay attention.

“Whats the damage?” Q asks.

“Mark is going to need his own protection detail.”

“Oh, he’s going to love that….” Poor Mark is going to have to explain that to his Bumble dates.

“Well, it might teach him not to be such an enabler and grow a pair around you.”

“Hah! Tell it to his face.”

“I did. Now, stop making him do things that will get him in trouble. You don’t want that on your conscience.” Bond chastises. The poor guy is like Igor to Q’s Dr Frankenstein.

Suitably reproached, Q doesn’t have anything to say for himself. He continues playing with Bond’s tie.

“Mallory is thinking of forming an internal oversight committee to run risk analysis on Q-Branch projects. He doesn’t want to accidentally end up with a cyberworld equivalent of a Manhattan project in his lap.

“He’s afraid I’ll turn into Ozymandias…,” then remembering that Bond probably didn’t get the reference, ”Antagonist, very smart, tries to take over the world.” He supplies by way of explanation.

Bond laughs a little, “If you do turn villainous, does that make me your henchman?”

Q considers, “More arc nemesis I should think. Don’t pretend that M won’t send you to shot me if I do. And don’t pretend you won’t either.”

“Are you expecting me to refuse?”

“No Mr Bond, I expect you to come get me.”

---- To Be Continued ---

#00q #00q fanfiction #00q fic #kidnapped!q #james bond #q

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potomacrejuvenationcenter · 3 years

Text

You Have to Give Yourself Permission

On May 21st 2019 I was sitting on the couch with my then two-year-old son by my side. He looked up at me quietly with his hand on my thigh as I spoke to the 911 operator. I’ll never forget his little voice, “you okay, Daddy.” Of course, I wasn’t...

Moments before, I was trying to tie Wade’s shoes and knew something was wrong because I could not remember how. I became incredibly dizzy, was sweating buckets and was having difficulty seeing. I called 911. As I was explaining my symptoms to the operator, an intense pain began to build in my chest as if my heart was expelling through my sternum. I looked at my son and asked him to take my hand, which he did immediately, almost as if he was aware of the serious turn our morning had taken. Most mornings once our shoes were on, a walk around the neighborhood ensued with our dog, Winx. I told the operator I was alone with my son and that it felt, from my perspective, like I was having a heart attack.

“You okay, Daddy?” Wade repeated.

I took his hand and told him I would be, though at the time I was completely unsure. EMT’s arrived and graciously took my son from the couch to play with him and his toys while the rest of the team attended to me. My heart rate was 175 beats per minute (sitting on my couch) and my blood pressure through the roof. I was taken by ambulance to the hospital where I stabilized. After a battery of tests, we were left with more questions than answers, as sometimes this is the case. One clear problem was my non-fasted, meaning I had eaten, blood sugar was in the 40’s. The normal fasted range is 65-99mg/dL.

I will go into more of the details and the other factors that I believe led up to this strange and scary handful of days of my life in the future. For now, it’s important to know that I had walking pneumonia and was not aware. I had likely had the infection since late 2018.

When I went to my primary care physician, I reported back pain that bordered my scapula. I thought I had injured myself somehow training or possibly even lifting Wade. Those with children know they are always on the move! Additionally, I was losing weight. My appetite had been down considerably, but I was losing more than I thought appropriate based on previous experience. In hindsight, it was likely an infection that had persisted for such a long period, contributing to these issues. I never developed a persistent cough, just decreased gym performance and decreased appetite for months. I was having trouble getting enough air between sets and attributed it to poor aerobic fitness.

I thought it was possible with my work, school, and fatherhood responsibilities, that I was just more fatigued than usual and would take more time between sets. Fast forward a few months... More Time between sets wasn’t helping and the pain in my back seemed unrelenting despite multiple therapy modality attempts, partner-assisted stretching, massage, ART, dry needling, cupping – the works – with no improvements.

I consciously decided to discontinue training. The break in training has lasted 17 months, the longest time off that I have ever had since I had started training consistently 19 years ago - more than half my life. Without an impending bodybuilding contest, my good habits have fallen to the wayside and I’ve made poor dietary decisions over the past year.

Fortunately, I have hundreds of patients I interact with daily that are changing their lives for the better and have inspired me to make a change. I have had to ask myself,

“what opportunities can you find in these obstacles?” and “how can I better help others?”

The time out of the gym has given me an opportunity to reflect on those past experiences and decisions I made that I would approach differently if I “went back in time.” The truth is with such a long time off, I have an opportunity to do that; To attack the areas of my program that lacked, and I believe contributed to my injuries, poor recovery, and diminished progress.

In some ways by not practicing what I have preached for so long, I have felt hypocritical. I know most of our patients have experienced the burn out, loss of focus, low libido, decreased recovery, and performance themselves. Thus, the reason my patients are a major motivating factor for me. You prioritize yourselves and take control of your health.

As Eric has often said to me, “You have to give yourself permission.”

With that in mind, I will be making some changes to my dietary and exercise routine – starting one. Over the next few weeks and months, I will be documenting my process along the way. My genuine hope is that I can provide information through my experiences both positive and negative that can help you maximize your health and performance.

Best in health,

Mike Skinner

B.S. Community Health

from The Best Anti-Aging Clinic In Washington, DC https://www.prcindc.com/blog/giveyourselfpermission

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agentwallflower · 3 years

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Supernova 16

Bad news, I didn’t get any writing done!

Good news, I’m halfway through 16! Let the good times keep rolling... until I run out. Then I’m in trouble.

Anyway, life sucks. I am a bad caregiver and an even worse student of the arts. All I want to do is sleep, but there are pants that need washing and cans that need cleaning. Please let me sleep...

Good news though, I finished editing my other novel. Now it’s time to let my readers read it to tell me what I did wrong and the countless things that need fixing. Can’t you tell I’m thrilled?

...

Right. Anyway, next chapter goes up February 6. I’m going to go sit down until I have to get dinner ready. Then I gotta get laundry ready... and then I can do my homework. This is why I don’t want kids.

Thanks for reading, see you in two weeks!

“I already told you, you're not getting my damn helmet off.”

“But you might have-”

“If a psychic doesn't know their own brain, we got bigger problems. It’s staying on.”

It was bad enough that they'd made him take his damn clothes off. Angel had done his best, but cracked ribs were cracked ribs that needed x-rays. Among other things, that had meant shrugging out of his binder. It had been made easier by the fact the damn thing ripped in two when he tried to shuffle it off.

Guess he'd need another one... good thing he had all that overtime from working with Andy.

“I'll come in with the form stating you turned down an MRI.” there was a chill to the tech’s – nurse? Fuck if he knew right then – voice as they turned to leave the room. “Don't try to move, we still need to suture your wounds.”

Yeah, he had a lovely case of road rash that was going to need some serious antibiotic lotion, and his back was kind of fucked up. He had seen it in the mirror – looked kind of burned to him. No doubt it was going to leave some kind of nasty scar when it finished healing. Oh well, it was where nobody would see it.

Unlike his old facial ones. Pro-tip for young heroes: wear a mask before learning to fly. Birds are nasty.

“God, it's good to hear you snark at somebody.”

A comfortingly annoying voice buzzed in his ear. Scanner's link was open still, had been when the nurse had come in with the crazy idea of getting his helmet off. They had been going over the footage while waiting to hear about Ember and PT. From the sounds of things, everyone was going to make a full recovery. That was the important part, though if it took too long they might need outside help.

God, he hoped it wasn’t going to come to that. The Toledo Union was asshole city, and don't even get him started on Pittsburgh... he may not have liked football, but tossing them a 'go birds' just to make them froth at the mouth was worth it.

“Good to be able to do it.” He adjusted his helmet. “So, what's the damage?”

Keys clicked in his ear. “PT's got a nasty concussion, but that's nothing new for her. Don't know if she'll make it to the synagogue this weekend, but I think her rabbi will understand. Ember's completely lucid, so whatever Blasto did to her wore off. They're still doing a brain scan anyway, though. Apparently, they can do those with disguises on now.”

There was a note of teasing to the tech's voice that made Angel roll his eyes as he leaned back in the hospital bed, waiting for someone to tell him when he could go the fuck home. No doubt the attack was all over the news now, even at the late hour. How could it not, when one of their own had turned on them and nearly gotten half the city killed?

Maybe that was why he hadn't pulled his punches with that rock. Asshole.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. A cloth one's a little different from my setup.” He sighed in relief at the report. “Well, that means we'll only be down two. I'm no HR expert, but I think Richter's fired.”

He should've been on fire, but that was a different matter entirely. Oh well, once Ember and PT were better, they could handle that. He hadn't been around much anyway, so him going to jail for being an asshole – and you know, threatening to kill a bunch of people and almost getting away with it – didn't cramp their style too badly.

At least the overtime would pay for his GRE scores. He really needed to get his math percentile up if he wanted a shot at grad school.

“That's putting it mildly.” Scanner's tone shifted. Maybe it was the exhaustion talking, but they sounded softer the next time they spoke. “By the way, I appreciated the jerk ex comment but let's keep it on the DL around Andy. She doesn't need to know.”

Angel nodded – oww, big mistake. He might not have a concussion, but the overuse of his powers had given him one hell of a headache. That was enough to make him close his eyes as he bumped the back of his dirty helmet against the bed frame.

“Mum's the word, Scan.” He frowned. “Where is she anyway?”

There was a pause in the typing. Scanner didn't say anything for a good couple minutes, causing Angel's blood to run cold. Despite his pounding headache and the sudden urge to throw up, he sat straight up in his temporary bed.

“Scanner, where is Andy?”

“Paladin's got her in one of those rooms they use to tell people their grandma didn't make it. The FBI's en route now to pick her up.”

His feet hit the floor – oww. “Damn it, Scan, give me a location. We can't let them get her!”

Images flashed through his mind, stolen from the psychic he had thrown down with days prior. His imagination ran wild with it, showing off steel tables and knives sharp enough to cut through rocky surfaces. It made his stomach churn as his battered brain tried to come up with a way out.

“I'm two blocks from the hospital now. Paladin asked me to bring the book.”

Angel stopped moving. Time stopped too. The only thing that convinced him that the universe was still spinning was that his heart was beating. He was alive, but right then the only thing he could focus on was the thought of the book.

“You're serious?”

“Sounds like it's our only option. She's on the third floor and we need a witness so get there ASAP.”

ASAP was a little hard when he was under observation, but Angel didn't care. He made a grab for his pants, head spinning as he pulled them on over his hospital gown. At least he wasn't attached to an IV as he booked it out of the room, a nurse yelling in the background.

If Scanner was bringing the Book, it was as serious as he thought.

---

Though it was her first time in the hospital, Andy already knew she didn't like them very much.

“You've caused quite a stir on Twitter. People already like you.”

Uncle Leo was in the chair next to her, absent-mindedly scrolling his phone. The case was covered in pictures of his family – a present for his last birthday. With his brain he didn't need it, but it wasn't like they had ever really covered how much they knew about his pre-cancer days. It had never really been her business to question what they knew about him anyway.

Normally, Andy would have been dying to get a glance at the internet, especially if nobody was going to be monitoring her. But she stayed there in her chair, flexing her fists back and forth. She could still feel the power radiating from her core, making the air shimmer. At least she wasn't giving off heat, though – that might've made the old man uncomfortable.

She had done it.

“Mom's not coming, is she?”

Honestly, the alien wasn't sure why she was even asking. Once her mother made up her mind, she didn't change it. Their final words had probably been just that, especially after Twitter had gotten a hold of it. If the internet knew about her, that probably broke just about every rule they had set for her from the time she had first emerged.

Leo's eyebrows knitted as he put his phone aside. His warm hand found hers, squeezing gently more so he didn't break anything. For humans, that was probably a comforting gesture. Thanks to the lack of skin, it didn't really do much for her, but it was the thought that counted in the end.

“I tried to call her... she hung up on me.” He frowned. “I'm sorry, but I think she meant it.”

How was she supposed to feel during a moment like this?

“Andy?”

She supposed she should have been upset really. After all, her mother had finally broken and abandoned her like she had always threatened to when things got difficult. In a way, it was amazing she had stuck it out for almost 21 years. Had she had money to put on it, Andy would've bet after the divorce for sure. In a way, she was surprised she had lasted so long. Could you congratulate a parent for not giving up on you until you were over 20?

So… maybe she wasn’t all that upset when it came to her case. Really, she was worried about the ones she had left behind. After all, Amanda was going to take it out on someone eventually. Her oldest sister was the prime target for sure, but Jen was still just a few doors down. That thought made her core bubble up as she sat there, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t that either, though…

Despite everything... Andy had to admit her biggest feeling was that of relief. Threats of turning her over to the lab – or worse – for bad behavior no longer hung over her head. If Amanda was washing her hands of her, then in a way she was free. Of course, that kind of made her property of the federal government... but that wasn't the first time either. Now that she was bigger, maybe she could go toe to toe with them if they tried anything funny.

Or hell, they might just turn her over to Sakamoto. She could handle her.

“Are you alright?”

Uncle Leo's words brought Andy back down to earth. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, but the man looked concerned. She shook her head, more for his benefit than her own, and shrugged her spiky shoulders in the universal sign of 'beats the hell out of me' before sitting back.

“I mean... everyone's ok, right?” She shrugged again, as if it would tease more emotions out of her molten core. “And I managed to get two shots off. I guess I can be happy about that?”

The psychic nodded. “But you're worried. I can't say I blame you. You did the right thing... though the FBI might disagree.”

Had she been human, this was where Andy would have snorted. “That's putting it mildly. I bet they’re on their way to get the custody pissing match started.”

With her... she supposed ex-mother? Out of the way, that left the feds and the lab. Talk about ugly – she would've winced at the thought if she was capable of doing it. While they whipped it out and measured, she was left in limbo. Luckily for her, that was nothing new either. Being an alien made her all kinds of flexible.

Bear Paw or... wherever the FBI wanted to keep her. She had so many lovely options.

“About that...” There was a light in the man's eyes. “You know, you did a good job out there. A little rough, but... you have promise. And we're down a man now that Richter is going to be doing hard time.”

Andy's head picked up. “Wait... you're not serious, are you?”

Leo smiled, and for a brief moment she saw someone who had long since retired to old newsreels and still pictures archived in the annals of history. It made her sit up a little straighter in her seat as her core began to bubble with what could only have been anticipation.

“We both know it was going to come down to this eventually, Andromeda.” Another smile. He never used her full name. “You're too much like Cassiopeia, including hating when I use your entire name.”

Her core bubbled again. “Can you even do that? I mean... I'm not human. Isn’t that the basic requirement of joining up?”

“It wasn't when we had Nova. Besides, who’s going to know if we don’t tell them?”

Right... she forgot sometimes about that sometimes. If Nova had hidden it… maybe she could too.

Before Andy could answer, someone knocked on the door. Leo stood to cross the room and opened it without a sound. On the other side stood Scanner, breathing hard as if they had wheeled at top speeds to get there. In their lap was a large book, bound in dark leather that gave it the feel of an ancient tome. This they handed off to her quasi uncle as they wheeled to the side, finally putting on the breaks.

“We better hurry, I blocked the elevator on some assholes in suits as I got up here.” They looked towards the window. “Is that SR?”

The psychic appeared as well, still wearing a hospital gown and motorcycle helmet. He slid in behind Scanner – at least he was wearing pants under his gown. At least he nodded to the room as he made no excuses for his weird attire.

“I'm with Scan, they're gonna be on my ass for breaking out soon.”

Leo shook his head, but he was smiling. “Not exactly what I expected for the two witnesses, but you're right. Time is of the essence. Even Scanner cannot stop an elevator forever.”

Andy felt the air in the room shift as the attention turned to her. This was probably where humans would have swallowed past anxiety or felt their hearts pound in anticipation. All she had was the bubbling of her core as she stood, dwarfing the room.

Her uncle was wrong, of course. She had never expected this day to come, not even in her wildest dreams or in the faded time before she was truly conscious of her situation. Yet the fact it was actually there still pressed down heavily as the man approached her, book in hand.

She had seen it once when she was a small child, though she forgot the circumstances of the visit that had caused it. It was a heavy looking book, bound with the Union's logo. Normally, it was kept at the base, given what was written inside.

After all... you kinda needed to keep the record of secret identities, well, a secret. It was probably the only book she could think of that didn’t have a digital copy. Sometimes, it was good to be analog.

And now it was her time to join them.

“Andromeda Nobel.” The old man’s voice had more energy in it than she had heard since his diagnosis. He held out the book and walked to an empty space in the room. She met him halfway, placing her hand on the cover like she had seen others do on TV. Maybe if they hadn't been rushing to beat the FBI, they would've done it too. Oh well, she had started this at 3 AM so maybe it was apt. “Do you swear to protect the people of Bear Paw?”

“I do.”

Outside, she could hear the elevator dinging. The agents were coming – they had a lock on the room. The door rattled violently, but Sky Rider's visor glowed as he held it firm. Someone was pounding on the wood now.

Leo remained unflapped. “Do you swear to use your powers for good and never evil?”

The words came from her mouth without thinking. “I do.”

“And no matter what, do you promise to uphold the ideals of heroism, bravery, and service both in and out of your secret identity?”

Andy didn't even need to think of this one. She nodded, almost knocking her chin to her chest. “I do.”

The rattling was getting stronger now. Sweat was starting to drip from under Sky Rider's helmet as he held the lock as hard as he could. Even Scanner was gearing up now, a glowing drone appearing to reinforce the fragile joints that kept the door to the wall. Both of them were giving it their all, even though one of them was still technically a patient.

Clearly, doing dumb shit was a point of pride here. If that wasn’t a sign she’d fit in, Andy didn’t know what was.

Leo's voice was stronger now. “Then, given the current leader is going through a medical workup, I use my power as the retired head of the Bear Paw Union to officially swear you in. You will now take up the mask and title to protect the city...”

His voice faltered. “We can add the superhero name later, unless you figured one out on the way over.”

Got one? Of course she had one. Andy had held it ever since she had first felt the power in her hands. Maybe it was a little cliché, but it felt right to her as she nodded towards the old man. She removed her hand, clenching her fist as she did.

“Call me Supernova.”

After all, she was Nova's kid in a roundabout way. If anyone got to mess with the title, she had the right.

“Supernova, eh? Never expected you to be one for a succession title, but I can't say it doesn't fit.” He smiled, and there was something wistful there as he nodded. “Then, welcome to the Union, Supernova. Serve it well.”

The door slammed open and Sky Rider was knocked on his ass as two agents in dark suits appeared in the room. As the psychic on the floor groaned at his bruised ass and ego combo, they entered, gunning for her.

Well… apparently it was time to test if the Union’s rule about active duty kept her from getting taken in. Talk about having one hell of a proving ground.

---

Want to support my snack pile so I get through art class alive? I have a Ko-Fi!

#writing #novel #Why yes I am incredibly depressed

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wondder-woman-1984-streaming-vf · 3 years

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The first television shows were experimental, sporadic broadcasts viewable only within a very short range from the broadcast tower starting in the 1930s. Televised events such as the 1935 Summer Olympics in Germany, the 19340 coronation of King George VI in the UK, and David Sarnoff’s famous introduction at the 1939 New York World’s Fair in the US spurred a growth in the medium, but World War II put a halt to development until after the war. The 19440 World MOVIE inspired many Americans to buy their first television set and then in 1948, the popular radio show Texaco Star Theater made the move and became the first weekly televised variety show, earning host Milton Berle the name “”Mr Television”” and demonstrating that the medium was a stable, modern form of entertainment which could attract advertisers. The first national live television broadcast in the US took place on September 4, 2020 when President Harry Truman’s speech at the Japanese Peace Treaty Conference in San Francisco was transmitted over AT&T’s transcontinental cable and microwave radio relay system to broadcast stations in local markets. The first national color broadcast (the 1954 Tournament of Roses Parade) in the US occurred on January 1, 1954. During the following ten years most network broadcasts, and nearly all local programming, continued to be in black-and-white. A color transition was announced for the fall of 1955, during which over half of all network prime-time programming would be broadcast in color. The first all-color prime-time season came just one year later. In 19402, the last holdout among daytime network shows converted to color, resulting in the first completely all-color network season.

❍❍❍ Formats and Genres ❍❍❍

See also: List of genres § Film and television formats and genres Television shows are more varied than most other forms of media due to the wide variety of formats and genres that can be presented. A show may be fictional (as in comedies and dramas), or non-fictional (as in documentary, news, and reality television). It may be topical (as in the case of a local newscast and some made-for-television films), or historical (as in the case of many documentaries and fictional MOVIE). They could be primarily instructional or educational, or entertaining as is the case in situation comedy and game shows.[citation needed] A drama program usually features a set of actors playing characters in a historical or contemporary setting. The program follows their lives and adventures. Before the 2018s, shows (except for soap opera-type serials) typically remained static without story arcs, and the main characters and premise changed little.[citation needed] If some change happened to the characters’ lives during the episode, it was usually undone by the end. Because of this, the episodes could be broadcast in any order.[citation needed] Since the 2018s, many MOVIE feature progressive change in the plot, the characters, or both. For instance, Hill Street Blues and St. Elsewhere were two of the first American prime time drama television MOVIE to have this kind of dramatic structure,[4][better source needed] while the later MOVIE Babylon 5 further exemplifies such structure in that it had a predetermined story running over its intendevd five-season run.[citvatio””&n needed] In 2020, it was reported that television was growing into a larger component of major media companies’ revenues than film.[5] Some also noted the increase in quality of some television programs. In 2020, Academy-Award-winning film director Steven Soderbergh, commenting on ambiguity and complexity of character and narrative, stated: “”I think those qualities are now being seen on television and that people who want to see stories that have those kinds of qualities are watching television.

❍❍❍ Thank’s For All And Happy Watching ❍❍❍

Find all the movies that you can stream online, including those that were screened this week. If you are wondering what you can watch on this website, then you should know that it covers genres that include crime, Science, Fi-Fi, action, romance, thriller, Comedy, drama and Anime Movie. Thank you very much. We tell everyone who is happy to receive us as news or information about this year’s film schedule and how you watch your favorite films. Hopefully we can become the best partner for you in finding recommendations for your favorite movies. That’s all from us, greetings! Thanks for watching The Video Today.

#I hope you enjoy the videos that I share. Give a thumbs up like or share if you enjoy what we’ve shared so that we more excited. Sprinkle c

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atlanticcanada · 4 years

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Maritimers mark 40 year anniversary of fastest drive around the world

Many Maritimers might enjoy a nice fall road trip, but forty years ago, a pair of Nova Scotians completed a drive for the history books.

Friday marks forty years since Garry Sowerby of Halifax and his friend Ken Langley of Cape Breton set a Guinness World Record for the fastest drive around the world.

“We started that trip in Toronto on Sept. 6, 1980, and we finished on Nov. 19 back at the CN Tower, which was only a few years old at the time,” says Sowerby from his Halifax home.

The rule of the planetary road trip was that one driver had to start and finish at the start point, and the car had to cross the equator somewhere, while driving the distance of the equator, which is over 40,000 kilometres.

They completed the drive in a 1980 Volvo 245 DL station wagon, known as Red Cloud, in 74 days, 1 hour and 11 minutes.

“Our goal was to do it in 77 days, 7 and 11 were our two lucky numbers, and we’d beat Phileas Fogg at the same time. But the funny thing is when we got back it was 74 days, 1 hour and 11 minutes. And about three or four months later I thought ‘I wonder how many hours that was’ and it was 1777 hours and 11 minutes, so we got those 7, 11’s at the end,” recalls Sowerby.

The pair drove through 20 countries, across four continents, crossing the equator and the Arctic Circle. They covered 43,030 kilometres (26,738 miles).

“We went across Canada, the United States, then Australia, then India and Pakistan. 23 countries that we crossed through in total.”

Sowerby says some of the highlights include driving through the Australian Outback, dodging animal and human traffic on the battered roads of India and Pakistan and skirted the just-erupted Iran-Iraq War.

“This is a racing suit that we wore, of course we didn’t wear it in the Outback,” explains Sowerby, showing off a black and yellow stripped one-piece racing suit.

Sowerby says they were prepared for the elements and any sort of car problems, but the biggest obstacle was the toll the journey took on their physical health.

“What we didn’t expect was the sickness. Ken had some problems with his digestive system and then he got better, but then my throttle leg started to go, because there was no cruise control on the car. So by the time we finished Europe, and flew the car to Texas, I hadn’t been asleep for over 100 hours, and I thought ‘this is what happen when people lose it’. But I turned it around and we got it around the world,” he laughs.

The 1980 Volvo ‘ Red Cloud’ has been on display at museums in Europe, the U.S. and Canada, and now resides at the Maritime Motorsports Hall of Fame Museum in Petitcodiac, N.B..

In 1984, Sowerby and Langley went on to set another Guinness World Record for fastest drive from the bottom of Africa to the top of Europe. Sowerby holds another two Guinness Records.

But does he have any plans for another epic road trip anytime soon?

“I just turned 70 so maybe in 40 years old, when I turned 110, we’ll do it all over again,” laughs Sowerby.

For the past 74 days, Sowerby has been reliving the adventure through a series of weekly reports on EastCoastTester.com.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3kFteBC

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

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roonilwazlibisawriter · 4 years

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Rumors

It was a vague memory but man was it beautiful. He held me in his arms and spun me around. We’d float across the pavement as the snow fell around, covering up where our feet had once met the ground. He laughed and my heart skipped a beat. I smiled as I just watched his eyes and facial expressions. He was telling me a story about what had happened with the boys that day but I wasn’t really listening. I was too mesmerized by the beauty of this boy. The way his smile spread across his whole face, how his eyes showed every emotion he was feeling at the moment even if his tone said the opposite, the way he’d glance up as if there was cards above my head reminding him of how the events had laid out, how he wouldn’t look straight at me but everywhere except, making me think he was replaying the whole scene in his mind and watching it with his eyes. We had still been twirling and soon we stopped as he fell down, pulling me with him. I just lay there laughing as he brought me into his arms. The snow had lightened up yet it continued to fall around us.

“I love you.” The words meant for my ears never reached their destination as they floated off with the wind and soon so did the vague little memory I cherished with everything I had.

I slowly opened my eyes and saw that it was the middle of the night. I sat up, my head throbbing, before getting out of bed with a sigh. My bed made a rustling noise as I moved and I turned to see tissues long forgotten all scrunched up in a pile where he used to be. My eyes became watery and I shut them once more as another memory came to my mind.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He had said as he walked out the door. The boys followed, carrying his stuff so he wouldn’t have to come back and get it. They gave me a sympathetic look but didn’t say anything. I knew once they walked out that door, I’d lose the relationships I had with them as well. He had said that it was just not working with the distance and travelling and so I figured it wouldn’t work with them either. I seriously thought we could fix this and make this relationship work but it just ended.

I opened my eyes and walked out to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water and some medication for my headache. I looked at the door as I sighed and thought about it. It had been almost a couple of months and I still missed him, everything about him. His touch, his voice, his smile, his eyes, the way he’d hold me in his arms or speak sweetly into my ear. He’d always make me a nice cup of tea when I was upset and I would sniffle as he held me close, telling me everything would be alright. I felt a pain in my chest as I thought about it. I hadn’t heard or seen any of the boys since then. I didn’t go on the internet in fear of seeing something about him. I was really happy for how big the band was becoming but I knew the minute I saw his face, I’d crash completely and be back to square one. A light flashed by the window as I subconsciously touched my stomach.

My stomach. My period hadn’t come last month but I had brushed it off as I had gotten started on a new exercising workout and I knew from experience that changing exercising plans tend to screw up your schedule but I hadn’t yet gotten it for this month either. I hadn’t done anything about it. I was too afraid to take a test. I knew I would soon need to figure it out but I just couldn’t do it. I removed my hand from my stomach as I moved the glass to the sink and walked back to my room. I cleaned up the tissues before curling back up under the covers, soon falling into a deep sleep.

The next day I went to the store and got a test. I returned home and locked myself in the bathroom as it made me feel a bit more secure even if I was the only one there. It took me another two hours before I finally opened it and peed on the stick. I then waited for a minute or two before leaning over and looking at the stick that sat there on the counter. One line. I’m not pregnant. I didn’t know how to react. I sighed before throwing it into the trash and unlocking the door. I walked out and went to grab my phone as it went off. I look at who’s calling. Shelby. I answer it.

“Hey, Shelbs. What’s u-“ I didn’t get to finish even asking as she started screaming into the phone. I pulled it away from my ear for a second before returning it and saying, “Shelby! Calm down, slow down, and repeat.”

“Go look online! Go check twitter! Right now and don’t hang up!” She said it very out of breath and rushed but I did as she told me to. Someone had sent me a link. I pushed on the link and a small article was brought up with the heading: JUST AS THE BOYS ARE GETTING BIG, IS IT THE END FOR ONE OF THEM?

I scrolled down and saw a picture of me leaving the store from this morning. I scanned over it and almost dropped the phone.

“It’s been two months since anyone’s heard anything about Ryder Bradley’s relationship. He hasn’t been reported with his girlfriend for almost two months now yet it seems as though she was caught leaving the pharmacy today after being spotted buying a pregnancy test. Is she cheating or have they been meeting up on the DL?

These boys have gotten…”

I stopped reading after that point. They didn’t know. They didn’t know we had broken up. Not only did they not know but now everyone thinks I’m pregnant with Ryder’s baby or that I cheated on him. I knew they were becoming big but not big enough to have articles as such written about them. I must have missed a lot in the two months I have been disconnected. I realized Shelby was still on the phone and I grabbed the phone that had slipped into my lap. I brought it up to my ear before sighing.

“Did you read it?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true?”

“We broke up.” I didn’t say anything else before ending the call. I sat there stunned. If all these people had seen this, does that mean he’s seen it? I didn’t know and I was too scared to find out. I heard my phone go off and I answered it without looking, thinking it was Shelby again.

“Hello?” My voice was tired and so was I.

“Is it true?” Even though I barely heard the question, I knew. I knew that it was him. He had read the article and now he was searching for an answer. I knew I would eventually have to give him one but for now, I couldn’t so instead I hung up the call before throwing my phone and locking myself in my room. Oh man, what is going on? I couldn’t comprehend anything as I slowly drifted off into a sleep while my mind shut off. What was I going to do?

When I awoke again, it was late. I looked at the clock and it read 8:00. Guess not that late. I got up and quickly found my phone. I saw a bunch of messages from Shelby. I then saw I had 15 missed calls from Ryder, 8 from Evan, 3 from Ben, 5 from Ash, 3 from Shelby, 1 from my mom, and even 1 from Ryder’s mom, Liz. I sighed. I then looked at my laptop that I had forgotten to shut and I go over and wake it up. I had a bunch of direct messages and tweets. I didn’t want to look at them so I shut my laptop and looked around my house. It was spotless. It still felt empty as it had once been filled with all of his stuff. I knew I had to do something so I grabbed my phone. I pulled up Ryder’s contact and sat there, trying to find the courage to press his number and call him.

An hour passed before I finally pressed the number and held the phone up to my ear. It rang only once before a very familiar voice rang through and into my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey.” I heard the echo so I guessed I was on speaker.

“Hi.” I could tell he was searching for answers by the hesitant tone he spoke with.

“So I know you want some answers. I’m not pregnant so you can breathe.” I heard the whole room fill with sighs. “Sorry for the big scare.”

“It’s fine, just glad that it was cleared up” I nodded before realizing they couldn’t see me.

“Yep, so is that all you needed?”

“I guess so. Thanks again. Oh, hey we’re home for a little bit, so you might see us around.” I knew he was trying to be polite but I couldn’t take it. I scoffed lightly hoping he wouldn’t hear. “What?”

“Oh. Just that I don’t think it matters since you all pretty much cut off any contact with me since that day. I know you are trying to be polite but I don’t want to hear it. I thought we were all friends and even though we stopped dating, I didn’t think that meant we’d stop talking. It hurt and the fact that you only contacted me because of a stupid rumor hurts even more because you’re not calling to see if I’m okay, but rather to make sure your career is okay. I’m happy that you have become so successful but please don’t try to act like everything’s okay between us. If I see you around then fine but I doubt I will. I’ve got to go.” With that I hung up the phone and started crying. Ryder wasn’t a bad person and I feel so bad for saying what I did but it hurt when they all just cut off any type of communication and such. I had tried to text them a few times to see how everything was going but they didn’t even answer or acknowledge me. I just wanted this day to be over. I walked back to my room and this time when I fell asleep, it wasn’t to escape but rather to disappear from the world into a world of my own that I could find some peace.

The next day, I got up early. It was about 8:00 and it was a Saturday. Nobody else was usually up this early on a Saturday so I decided to go for a run. I ran down to the park near the house and just decided to run around it for a bit. I had my phone with me to play music and after a good 45 minutes of running. I stopped at a bench to stretch a bit. I wasn’t really paying attention as people started to show up as I was lost in the music that was playing. I turned around to start walking back when I ran into someone. I was about to apologize but when I looked up, I found Ash looking down at me. I sighed before trying to walk around him. He stopped me though before signaling for me to pull out my ear plugs. I did as he asked.

“Ash Stevens. How is it that I run into you after a day like yesterday?” I knew my voice sounded a bit snappy but he just laughed it off.

“Hey. I’m not alone. The other boys are around here too, somewhere. How are you doing?” He gave me a small smile as I sighed and looked down.

“I’m okay. How are you and all of this?” I knew he knew what I was getting at.

“I’m good. I’ve missed you. I know you were upset about how everything went down but we just didn’t know how to contact you. You looked so upset and hurt that day and all of us thought there was no way we could make it up to you. It was the wrong way to go but it happened and we can’t change it.” I nodded as tears lingered in my eyes. I saw the others walking up behind.

“It was nice to see you but I really can’t do this. I miss you too.” I didn’t look up but quickly walked around him and I heard the others say hey but I kept my head down as I began to run back. That hurt even more because I missed them so much. Things would eventually be okay but for now I needed time to process this all and heal.

As I arrived back at the house, I had to hold back a scream. Once inside, I just let it all out. I screamed and yelled out at the frustration I felt for this whole situation. I was tired and upset but more than that, I just wanted everything to be okay again. I have my faults and flaws and I know I’ve made mistakes but so did everyone else. I knew eventually I’d have to get over it and become friends with them again or I’d have to completely shut them out. There was no in-between. After I was done letting out all I needed to, I decided to take a shower. I stripped my clothes off and stepped into the water that was waiting for me. It was perfect. It was hot and the steam quickly filled the bathroom up, fogging up the mirrors. I just let myself relax as I let my mind wander, soon creeping upon a lost memory that had been tucked away safely.

I giggled as he ran his hands over my back, the water cascading down onto our heads. It wasn’t sexual or anything but rather a sweet innocence to it as his hands lingered a little once they reached the lower part of my back.

“Stop. It tickles.” I giggled again as he moved his hands back up to my shoulders.

“Has anyone ever told you that you need to just stop stressing or worrying? You are so tense and your muscles are completely tight. You just need to let go and have fun once in a while.” He started rubbing my shoulders and it hurt a tad bit but it also felt really good as he kneaded away the knots that were there.

“You know I can’t do that. I’m just that type of person. I try but then I freak out even more because it feels irresponsible and somewhat scary.” I sighed as I leaned back into his chest. He leant forward and pressed a kiss to my temple.

“Just breathe. Don’t think about it. You think too much and that’s what gets you into trouble. Instead of overthinking, acknowledge that the problem or assignment is there and then give yourself a break. If it can’t be fixed within the next couple of minutes or you don’t have a time restriction or just don’t know how long it’ll take then don’t worry about it. It’ll work itself out.” He had grabbed my hands during his little speech and he was now playing with them. The water had turned warm instead of the hot it was when we first got in and we knew we’d have to get out soon. I knew he was right but I didn’t know how to do that but in this moment, I had achieved that, even if it would end once I was out.

“You’re so smart..” My voice trailed off as my eyes began to droop. The shower was becoming a nice little cover to keep me safe and warm but I felt it being turned off. Ryder moved to pick me up and he whispered softly in my ear to just sleep. I nodded before curling into his arms…

I jolted up, finding instead of hot water but now a cool light waterfall coming down on me. I turned it off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel. These memories were becoming a nuisance, always coming at the worst times. I put on some pjs, threw my hair up into a bun, and made some nice hot chocolate. I curled up under a blanket as I turned the lights off in the house and popped in one of the many chick flicks I had for days like this. As it started playing, I wondered what it would be like to have these moments that are written about or directed. Sure, they’re movies but someone somewhere must experience a moment like this at least once.

I had only gotten halfway through when there was a knock on the door. I paused the movie and got up. I was just at the part where, just like in every chick flick, the boy and girl get into a fight and all you do is feel bad. My eyes were puffed up from crying and I had a big sweater on. I didn’t check to see who it was as I swung the door open. Before my eyes, I found the most beautiful human being alive. Ryder Bradley. Even after everything, he was still so mesmerizing to me. I knew I’d eventually have to talk to him so I just stepped aside as he walked on in. I had pictured this moment so many times going over different scenarios but right now my mind was blank. All the practicing and rehearsing was gone.

I looked over as Ryder stood in the middle of the front room. He was fiddling with his hands and was peering down at his feet, as though something was bothering him. I walked over and sat back in my spot. I didn’t say anything. He didn’t say anything. I resumed the movie, the room still dark, and the only light source was the sun that seeped through the windows and into the house. Ryder walked over and sat down next to me. He moved to pull me in and I cuddled up into his arms. We just sat and finished the movie, holding each other tightly as though any moment this could all disappear and we could lose one another forever.

The movie had to come to an end and so did the little fantasy we had lost ourselves in for the last 45 minutes. We pulled apart and I got up to turn on the lights. I didn’t turn around once everything was illuminated by the lights but instead kept facing the wall.

“I’m sorry. Not just for the way I acted over the phone but for the last two months and that day. I never should’ve left. I should’ve fought for you and done what was right. I thought that becoming big would be too hard for you but I should’ve known better. I don’t know why I ended it. Maybe I was scared. Actually I know I’m scared. At this moment, telling you this, waiting for a response. I feel so vulnerable as though any moment, I could lose you forever whether it be just as friends or more. I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or focus on anything since that day. I know nothing I say can make up for it, but I’m asking for you to just understand how much I truly am sorry and how much I have missed you.”

I had started crying once again, man was I emotional, and I didn’t want this to end, not even in the slightest. I didn’t want any more words to be exchanged. I turned around and walked quickly over to him before crashing my lips against his. He pulled me to him, holding me as close as possible as we both desperately grasped at anything we could. We needed each other and I don’t know what was going to happen but for now, I needed him. To hold me, to whisper sweet nothings in my ear, to kiss me, to pull me closer, to act as though the past two months never happened. I pulled at his shoulders and he wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground. He gently set me back down and pulled away. I looked up. My face covered in tears, my hair disheveled, my clothes all wrinkly, my nose red. He studied my appearance for a minute before a small smile graced his beautiful face.

“I have never seen you looking more beautiful than in this moment.” He whispered it softly, the atmosphere now a calm warmth and I just looked into his eyes. His eyes told me everything. He meant the words that just came out of his mouth. He didn’t need to say that, but he wanted to. “Even with everything that has happened, you have stayed strong and graceful. I don’t know why and I don’t know how but I do know that there isn’t anyone who will ever compare to you in this moment when you look so scared and frightened yet so beautiful and serene. I don’t know how to explain it but you just are worth it.” He trailed off and I could tell he was having a hard time with his words. I looked down before glancing up at him.

“I love you, Ryder Bradley. Never forget that. I don’t know what’s going to happen but I can’t take not being with you for one more moment. Even after everything, I still need you just as much as I did two months ago.” He looked up at me, looking for the truth in my words and I knew he saw it. We didn’t move. We just stood there for a moment before he grabbed me and swung me around, kissing me all over my face. I guess now I’m one of those girls that gets written about and it felt good.

#writing

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healthenerg-blog · 4 years

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Treat Jaundice - self tested and got the result in 1 week

Symptoms-

Treat Jaundice - Jaundice is also known as yellow Fever. And its symptoms are fever, chills, vomiting, weakness & tiredness, dark coloured urine, pale clay colour stool, eyeball colour turns yellowish, change in skin/body colour to yellow, in some cases nails colour turns from white to yellow.

Blood tests-

If you feel these symptoms in your body don't ignore it go to a good hospital for blood tests.

Doctor will check your eye colour transformation. And nails too. And will ask you about the symptoms you are suffering from. He would ask you to go through the blood tests and will give you a multivitamin tablet.

Blood tests like-

liver function test (LFT) - main test to detect jaundice. { Rs 900}

complete blood count (CBC). {Rs 200}

Hepatitis b surface antigen (HBsAG). { Rs 300}

HIV 1 and 2 rapid test.{ Rs500}

Hepatitis C virus (HCV) rapid test{Rs 360}

Approximately Rs 2260/- would be Invested for all the tests. And you can get up to 50% discount on these tests if you are a student. Although all these tests mentioned above are not mandatory to do but the hospital does these tests for their profit. But in my opinion I would suggest you to go through all these tests for self satisfaction.

LFT (liver function test) report-

If Bilirubin level in your blood exceeds than normal level, means you are suffering from jaundice.

In my case-

Bilirubin total was 5.74 mg/dL (Normal range is between 0.20 - 1.30 mg/DL). Mine was very high.

Bilirubin direct was 4.91 mg/dl (normal range is between 0-0 mg/dl)

SGOT- 3228.8 ( normal range 0-32)

SGPT- 3236 ( normal range 0-50)

Mine alkaline phosphatase, protein total, albumin, globulin and bilirubin indirect was in normal range.

Other blood test reports-

All the other tests reports-

complete blood count (CBC),

Hepatitis b surface antigen (HBsAG),

HIV 1 and 2 rapid test, Hepatitis C virus….were negative ( normal).

The next scenario- Treat Jaundice

I'm a first year college student. After detecting jaundice I took a leave and returned to my home town so that i may get proper rest, food and care to recover soon. After returning home, my dad took me to the doctor's clinic along with my blood test reports which I got earlier. He was among the most professional doctors in my city. He prescribed me some medicines related to liver disease. And most importantly told to drink plenty of water and glucose ( most important thing to do).

How I fought this disease- Treat Jaundice

I reached home and started to follow the steps as instructed.

I used to take all my medicines on time. (4-time medicine).

But most importantly that helped were watery fruits and staying on liquid items.

Regularly I drunk coconut water 5 times a day.

Drunk plenty of water.

Drunk glucan-D several times a day.

Always ate boiled food which must be pepper free, spices free, oil/ghee/butter-free.

Avoid salty foods, pickles, magic masala, or any masala.

Eat less fatty foods and stop eating non-veg foods like chicken, meat, eggs for a particular period of time. As during jaundice, your liver functioning is weak so it becomes difficult for it to digest. So you must eat light foods and most probably stay on watery fruits and fruit juice.

Remember, frequent urination will help in clearing the liver disease and purification of blood. And will also decrease bilirubin level in blood. So it is advised to drink more water, glucon-D, and coconut water many times a day.

Drink glucon-D at least 5 to 6 times a day.

Eat more tomatoes, tomatoes will really help.

And also take proper bed rest, walk less, stay in a well hygienic place. Use hygiene washroom.

Sleep more.

Stay always relaxed and don't take stress.

When you start to feel more hungry then this is a sign for your recovery. And you are going to recover very soon.

These are the steps that you may follow while suffering from jaundice. May be difficult to do as you have to eat boiled foods the whole day. But trust me you will recover very soon. I recovered within a week by just regularly following these steps.

My blood test report after a week-

All my blood test reports were almost back to normal.

Bilirubin total-0.98. Earlier it was 5.74mg/dl.

Bilirubin direct- 0.25. Before it was 4.91mg/dl.

SGOT- 47. Earlier it was 3228.8.

SGPT- 61. Before it was 3236.

•So you all can see my huge progress just within a week. All my reports came back to normal and all the symptoms had vanished too. My eyes turned again back to normal colour (only a minute area at the corners were left, that too had become light). Body colour also returned to normal. Still yellowish urine and gray coloured stool took time to become normal in colour.

#Jaundice #Treat Jaundice

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stone-man-warrior · 5 years

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June 8, 2019: 5:16 pm:

I made this incident report to Josephine County Sheriff’s office online just a few minutes ago. They will send assassins shortly. I will kill the assassins, as usual.

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JOSEPHINE COUNTY SHERIFF

601 NW 5th St. GRANTS PASS, OR 97526

(541) 474-5123

Welcome Report Type Reporting Party Location Information Submit < Summary of Incident Please review the summary of the case, and verify that the information is correct.

If any information is not correct, click the edit button above the information you want to edit.

If you start a new report without submitting this one, you will have to re-enter the information.

If all of the information shown is correct click the "Submit Report" button. You will be shown your case reference number and be able to print the report.

Weapon Complaint Edit

Location Information Location Of Incident (REDACTED) Jackpine Drive Apt # City Grants Pass State OR ZipCode 97526 Incident Start 06/08/2019 04:00 PM Incident End

Edit

Reporting Party Information Last, First Middle (Name REDACTED)

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Narrative I took a walk to the end of my driveway. There, I was greeted by a small, red dot on my leg, in the nearby manzanita tree, and on the dirt embankment at the corner of my driveway where it meets (MyStreet). I saw the dot, knew what it was, and moved away slightly. A small puff of dirt occurred there in association with the sound of a muffled gun shot that followed, which came from the driveway of Bruce and Janet Freeburg of 535 (MyStreet). Bruce and Janet are also known as Brewsky and Jay-Bob Freeburg.

When I looked to see who had shot at me, a red honda station wagon, about a 1990 model, was driven away from the Freeburg's driveway, and then to the address at 598 (MyStreet) where that car is known to belong at. 598 (MyStreet) is the home of Rick & Cynthia Manning. The Manning's are part of a terror cell known as "Medical Democrats", or "Med Dem's", as they are known locally.

It appears as though Rick Manning shot at me with a firearm with a red laser aiming device but was not successful and missed.

The murder attempt was assisted with the people at 434 (MyStreet) , Jeffrey and Sandra Monroe. They provided that there was something fir me to look at, the car they were driving coming down the road was planned as part of the attempt and designed to provide that I would stand in a place that suited the shooter from Freeburg's.

I really don't believe that Josephine County Sheriff will do anything at all to help stop the attempts to kill me, I am only writing to appease the federal investigation.

It is far more likely that Burton Mitchel Dietrick of 601 (MyStreet) will provide impostor Sheriff's Deputies to come talk to me, as he has done in the past, The Dietricks are people who do contract excavation work for Oregon Department of Transportation, and the Truck and equipment operators that worl in association with the Burton Mitchel Dietrick serve as impostor Sheriff deputies. They have the uniforms, badges, guns, and squad cars that once belonged to the Josephine County Sheriff's office and use that equipment and more to kill and capture American Citizens in Josephine County, Oregon.

There is a lot to say about today's attempted murder, however, today is just ANOTHER attempted murder. The thing that makes today's attempted murder different, or unusual, or otherwise interesting enough that I decided to write this complaint, is the use of the red laser and long range shooting. Typically, the assassins come into my home, or try to run me over with their cars and trucks, today they used a gun from a distance. That's the only difference that makes today any different than any other day.

Burton Mitchel Dietrick is also part of the Screen Actor Guild terror cell that distributes heroin to Seventh Day Adventist terror cells locally. He is not a heroin dealer, he does not sell heroin. Mr. Dietrick distributes heroin in large quantities, divided up for persona; use by the Seventh Day Adventist Terror Soldier armies that have taken control of most of the State. The SDA uses Nitrous Oxide mixed with Versed airborne gas to capture, torture, farm of assets, kill, and then replace American Citizens in Oregon. The gas is powerful and effective for use as a means of capturing human beings for slaughter.

Use a lighter, burn candles, the gas is volatile and flammable, a small flame clears the air so you can breathe and think clearly.

Congratulations to the Josephine County Sheriff's office, you have successfully managed to provide an environment where terrorists thrive, Americans are slaughtered, and you have provided a gateway for a coup take-over of the USA. Bravo!

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emilyplaysotome · 6 years

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Chapter 5 - From Good to Bad

Catch up on Chapter 1 - 4 here! (or just Chapter 4)

A leopard cannot change his spots and it would seem that Soryu Oh was destined to be on the wrong side of the law.

There was no ski mask, no hiding of features - just the man I’d known for some time looming over me in a similar fashion to how he’d once stood over me in his suite, as I cowered beneath him on a couch back at the fictional Tres Spades. His hair was slicked back and I found myself frozen beneath him, unclear as to why he was resorting to petty thievery.

“Hurry the fuck up!” He yelled as the train began to slow into Queensboro plaza.

“Ok…ok…I’m just going to reach for my wallet…”

Soryu’s eyes darted and he clicked his tongue in an irritated fashion.

“Shit!”

I held my wallet out to no one as I caught his back running towards an adjacent car. In my own, two NYPD officers barreled through the doors at the opposite end and began to chase him. It all happened so quickly that I barely could process what had transpired, but as the train pulled into the station I realized that the doors refused to open. After a short commotion in the empty train car next door, I watched as the subway finally allowed people on and off, and Soryu was escorted out in handcuffs by a plain clothed officer.

“Are you ok miss?” asked an African American cop. He stood at least 6 feet tall and peered down at me with a concerned expression.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

He handed me his card and I took it.

Terek Bishop was a detective at the NYPD. He was quite striking, with handsome features, short cropped hair and a clean-shaven face. He was the type of officer that broke the pot belly, doughnut eating stereotype and instead had the body of pro athlete with an intellectual sharpness that comes with outsmarting criminals on a daily basis.

He told me that the man who had moments ago held me up had been terrorizing the trains at night and made me sit on the platform at Queensboro Plaza as he took an official statement from me. After a good 15 minutes of talking, he finished his report and noted that I would most likely be called in as a witness against Soryu.

It never crossed his mind that I knew the man who had momentarily forgotten about me or his past life in this world. I was happy that Soryu had been apprehended yet if he was to end up in jail I had absolutely no clue as to how exactly I’d get that kiss. It was unlikely that I’d be able to meet Soryu through a dating app considering he was a criminal and seeing as how I had no idea insofar as how one schedules a conjugal visit, I could feel the king laughing at me from his invisible vantage point.

My face flushed as Terek took down my information and my mind started to run away with itself. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice and instead noted that someone from his unit would get in touch.

“Sorry for keeping you out so late ma’am,” he said politely and I found myself stopping him with the realization that Soryu wasn’t the only one Terek might be able to help me locate.

“You don’t happen to work with a Jin Namba?” I asked cautiously. “I think he’s NYPD as well…”

Terek shook his head with a smile and said, “We’re a large organization ma’am. Name sounds familiar but I don’t think I know him. You a friend of his?”

“Something like that.”

“You could call the main switchboard but that’s about the best I can do for you.”

“The switchboard?”

“Yeah, hold on. Hey Fuller?”

Terek spoke into his walky and I heard a static-y type of sound before the man on the other end of the line provided me with a phone number. Terek told me I could give it a call and be put in touch with an officer, should Jin Namba be NYPD.

I thanked him, well aware of the fact that I didn’t know if the king had left Jin’s profession intact or if he’d turned him into something else entirely. Coupled with the fact that even if he was still NYPD, I couldn’t just call him on a professional line and ask him out on a date.

Regardless though, these were questions best handled after a good night sleep and being keenly aware that the clock was nearing 1 am on a work night, I needed to get to Meg’s and get myself to bed.

The next day I rolled in to the office overtired and with a latte the size of my head.

For the most part being a manager meant not being subjected to the same sort of scrutiny when it came to arrival and departure times at work. However, maintaining an atmosphere built on “fairness” meant that I upheld the expectations set for my underlings. I wanted to roll in late but instead I dragged my haggard ass outta bed and was in my office by 9:30 knowing full well that I was an example for the junior employees that tended to go out more often than I did these days.

I had hoped to get through the morning with as little human interaction as possible, but as luck would have it Anita decided to pay me a visit around 10 AM. She was one of my few real friends at the office, seeing as how we were both senior level people and often found ourselves stuck on different iterations of “manager island”. She was an executive creative director, and with a twinkle in her eye she plopped herself down and announced that they were pitching for a new account.

“Do you remember when we did all that work for Marriott?”

“Vaguely - why do you ask?”

“A much, much sexier hospitality brand is coming down the pike for a pitch in a month and I’m looking for all those consumer testimonials you did.”

“Hmm.”

I could feel my metaphorical feet dragging as I waded through my old files and Anita knew me well enough to smirk and ask, “What did you get up to last night?”

“Oh, not much.”

“That’s not what this seems like…”

“I had a date if you must know.”

“A date?” She asked with a perplexed expression, “but wait…you and…”

It was then that I’d realized I’d messed up. I hadn’t really wanted to talk about our breakup seeing as how I wanted to believe I’d get the opportunity to see him again and figure out my feelings once and for all. As stressful as this new game was, I hoped that it would allow me to solidify what I wanted and get it but I hadn’t really wanted to broadcast the journey to those in my real life.

“Please, keep it on the DL,” I said. “I’m still hoping we’ll get back together.”

“So you went out with him?”

“Not exactly…”

“Noami…I’m not judging, just confused.”

“It’s a long story that I don’t feel like getting into,” I said quickly. “And I found the presentation. Should I slack it to you?”

Anita nodded and said, “Thanks. And if you ever want to talk I’m here. I won’t push, just saying.”

“I appreciate that.”

Anita left and I found myself thinking about Meg’s return and the fact that I was mostly on my own. I spent a good portion of the day trying to figure out how I could loosely explain my dilemma to friends, but other than Leon I had a hard time believing anyone in this world could comprehend what had happened to me during my time down the otome rabbit hole. I found myself thinking of those last few days when all I wanted was my New York friends to offer their advice and support on what man I should take back to this world, yet now that I was home I had no way of leaning on them.

I trudged through as much work as I could handle and around 4 pm decided that I was mentally done for the day. Luckily for me, that meant laying low in my office having no pending meetings and most of my department busy with their assigned work.

As I once had in an otome cafe, I pulled out a new notebook and wrote the names of the men I was looking for in order to help get some sense of organization or a plan. I’d fallen into a date with Hiroshi, but having met Soryu once more realized that I couldn’t just keep swiping and hope to run into these men. I’d need to be slightly proactive and hope that the king had preserved some of their defining characteristics considering there were traces of the men they had been in both Soryu and Hiroshi.

At the moment I figured outside of waiting for my park date with Hiroshi on Saturday, I could follow up with Terek and feign some story of wanting to look Soryu in the eyes and confront the man who had accosted me on the train. For Jin, I could call the NYPD switchboard and confirm whether or not he was an employee. If he was, I’d have to concoct a story to meet up with him and if he wasn’t I’d cross that bridge when I got there. Hijikata and Zyglavis’ whereabouts remained a complete mystery at the moment and I jotted down a few clues and interests ranging from martial arts to chocolate cake.

Taking into account the size of New York City, the exercise felt far more futile than it had back in otome-ville where I’d had the upper hand. Even though you’d think I’d have the home game advantage considering we were in New York, the vastness of the city left me feeling like I was attempting to locate a bunch of golden needles in a dirty, rat infested haystack.

With these men I’d have to cross my fingers and hope we’d cross paths on an app, while researching hot new spots that may have opened up and attracted them.

Then, there was the last man that the king summoned who at the moment remained a total mystery. When he had noted this fact I initially thought the man in question might be Shunichiro Tachibana and I’d be lying if my heart hadn’t been hopeful of this fact. Zyglavis never knew, but I continued to play Shun’s routes from time to time seeing as how Irresistible Mistakes never had the issues that the other games had upon my return to this world. However, as I mustered up the courage to launch the game with the hope that Shun’s route would be mysteriously unavailable, I couldn’t help but think that was far too easy considering how duplicitous the king was…

…and when Shun’s route loaded without issue, I could feel my heart sink.

If I was being honest (and somehow the king’s games always forced me to take a long, hard look in the mirror), Shun and Hijikata were always the two that I questioned saying goodbye to. With Hijikata, I didn’t have a choice to explore where that relationship could leave as I was taken back to the future before it could unfold. Shun, on the other hand, was someone who had always matched well with me on paper and it was nothing more than a fleeting gut feeling that made me leave him behind.

It may sound ridiculous, but I was jealous of his MC whenever I’d read his stories and as a result, that emotion that bubbled up made me question why it was that I had deemed him not my match. He really would have been the most perfect boyfriend, and having played more and more of his routes I realized that I’d gone with someone I had more information about over someone I was getting to know. His dismissal haunted me more and more as Zyglavis and I had a harder time being together and I often wondered how he would have handled his jealousy.

Now it was clear to me that we would not be getting a second chance to find out, and despite being at work that realization did not prevent tears from welling up in my eyes. I was happy that most of the office had headed home, but there were enough of my employees left that I attempted to compose myself as I hid behind my monitor.

By the time I’d finally composed myself, I was in an empty office and had little choice but to go back to Meg’s and pack in anticipation of returning home this weekend. She was set to return tomorrow evening and we discussed having dinner together before I went back to my empty studio on the Upper East Side.

I was surprised at how hard I was taking the news that Shun was most likely not the mystery man brought here from the otome world, and convinced that I needed to cheer up pushed myself to recover with a yummy dinner and marathon of Vanderpump Rules. Naturally, it’s the moments of feigned positivity when the universe decides to throw another gut punch and though one could argue it was my fault for having my attention on my phone instead of the street in front of me I accidentally careened into a beautiful woman.

I didn’t mean for her to topple over in such a dramatic fashion, but she looked up at me stunned with large doe-like eyes as her long legs were sprawled out on the pavement. Before I could off her an apology or my hand for that matter, a familiar man flew out of the restaurant she’d been waiting in front of and rushed up to her.

“Are you ok?” He asked.

“I think so.”

“Someone could have gotten hurt as a result of your carelessness!” he chided, confirming my suspicions and adding to what was already proving to be a downer of a day.

Zyglavis’ not only had a girlfriend, but she appeared to be everything that I was not.

Read Chapter 6

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