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gustafsnightangel · 3 years

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A Softer Side Part 6

“Sounds good.”

“I’d be there in person but I can’t leave. We need to keep her hidden and alive.”

“Absolutely.” Steve paused. “Have you heard from Meekland?”

“She fired me and Jerry.”

“Same with me and Davis. Good to know we’ve been given the green light to fuck shit up.”

“Oh we’re going to do more than fuck it up.” Strand chuckled.

“You sniffing something boss?” He could hear the grin in Wainwright’s voice.

“We have the syndicate and all their buyers and sellers. Once this trio of girls have been sold for the year we’re going to razz their entire operation to the ground.”

“Count me in.”

“Absolutely.” He eyed Ayla as she jumped out of her chair and moved to him, the urgent look on her face piqued his interest. “I’ll get Jerry to open a link between us and forward the information we have.”

“I’ll do the same.” Strand hung up as Ayla tapped him on the arm lightly and waved him to follow.

“Slow down Ayla.” He said gently, knowing the speed at which she was moving was painful to her. She pointed to a photo of Meekland on one of the monitors and tapped a few keys bringing up all the information on his boss. Some of it he knew, some of it he didn’t. “What’s the connection?” His brow furrowed as she tapped her DNA laptop and turned it for him to see the screen. Tapping her photo on the large monitor she then tapped her laptop. “That’s Meekland?” He asked looking at her with bewilderment and she nodded. There was more than tears in her eyes, there was sorrow, remorse. “You’re sure?” She nodded and pointed to herself and then at Meekland. “You knew her?”She nodded. “Was she one of the stolen infants?” She nodded again and opened up another file on her laptop. Strand began to read as she sat, eyes watching him intently.

“I know this is an old photo but why is this guy familiar?” He said and tapped her laptop screen without thinking and it went dark. “Shit sorry.” She logged back in and shrugged as if it were no big deal. Turning to the bank of monitors she brought up the commanding officer of their department, Meekland’s boss. “Oh fuck me.” He breathed. “I never saw it.” He felt his gut plummet. All this time they’d been fucking each other, the dominance play, he’d never even considered. He felt sick as his thoughts churned along with his stomach. “He bought her.” He stated more than asked.

Ayla’s hand rested on his to comfort, but he flinched and slapped it away, not caring if it hurt, not giving a shit as she scrambled away. He recoiled violently at the thoughts screaming through his head. Standing abruptly he walked away without a word, needing space, needing to crawl out of his own skin, needing to fucking breathe.

“Karl.” Mia said sternly as he stormed past her and out the French doors. “What the fuck was that?” She snapped.

“She was one of them Mia.” He spat pacing the dirt. “Sarah Meekland.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. You slapped Ayla’s hand away, did you forget what ninth circle of hell you just pulled her from?” She seethed.

All Strand could do was glare at her.

“She was only doing what you asked her to do. Just because you found out something about an ex girlfriend that even your black heart managed to love doesn’t give you the right to slap her away and treat her like shit.”

“I never said I loved her and we’re not together.”

“You didn’t have to, it’s practically written over your face.” She snarked.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He warned, he was in no mood for her sarcasm or teasing.

“You fucked her again didn’t you? After everything she put you through the first time, you fucked her again?” She said in disbelief.

“We both needed to blow off steam.” He mumbled. “It’s just sex.”

“Ok sure, I get that, but despite who she is and how she was raised, she nearly killed you Strand, you do remember that yes?”

“Fuck you Mia.”

“No.” She snarled and got in his face, which for a petite girl of 5’ 2”, was impressive. “Fuck you. I was the one who had to bring you back from the brink after that op went south on her orders, so fuck you Karl.” She drilled a finger into his chest. “You almost died in my fucking arms.” She spat, the tears in her voice evidence of how much she cared about him. “So fuck you for doing the one thing I asked you not to do, to not get personally involved with that soul sucking bitch again.” He reached for her. “Don’t you fucking touch me.” She snarled and slapped his hand away, the contact painful. “You treat Ayla like that again and I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep. You were right, you’re no good for her.” The barb struck deep as it had been intended. “You’re such an asshole.” She turned and walked back inside, it was only then he saw Ayla at the door, witness to everything they’d just said, turn, and disappear from view.

“Fuck!” He snarled, the overwhelming urge to shoot something thrumming through him.

It took him nearly an hour to pace and calm down, the look skyward at the stars and the moon making him feel so much worse than Ayla hearing his dirty laundry. “Well, I’ve been trying to tell you I’m an asshole, now you know.” He breathed and mentally kicked himself. “Fucking relationships.” He growled, sitting in the dirt he stared at the moon. Every interaction, every moment with Sarah went through his head, pulling it apart, analyzing it. The sex between them had always been consensual, had always been rough. Not once had she uttered her safe word or a color for stop, and her pain threshold was virtually non existent. “That should have been a red flag right there.” He muttered. How was he to know who she really was, her background, her upbringing?

******

It was almost midnight when he ventured back inside, the house quiet. Thinking everyone had gone to bed he turned for the rec room and saw Ayla still working hard and his heart cracked, had he hurt her too? Mia was nowhere to be found and Jerry’s door was shut which meant he was probably passed out.

He went to take a shower, the need to feel clean before he tried to mend the rift with Ayla. When he came back out she wasn’t at the computer. Standing at her bedroom door he saw the silhouette of her tiny body curled up, pressed against the wall. “Sweet girl.” He choked and walked to her, she shrank back as he sat next to her. “I know you’re angry at me and I’m sorry, but don’t sleep here sweet girl, get comfortable and warm in bed.” She shook her head and pulled away from him, the keening whimper warning him to back off. “Ok.” He sighed. “Ok. You can come lay down with me when you’re ready too.�� She wanted nothing to do with him, that vacant stare breaking him, he’d caused that. He’d caused her to withdraw, to scamper away from him like a kicked puppy. Climbing into the bed he could hear the soft sobs and knew he may never get her to trust him again.

Karl woke to an empty room, the other side of the bed undisturbed, she’d slept on the floor all night and disappeared before he’d woken. “Back to square one.” He sighed to the ceiling and felt like the asshole he was. Venturing to the rec room he saw Jerry hard at work, the girls nowhere to be seen.

“Morning boss.”

“Morning. Mia and Ayla?” He asked taking a seat and watching the feed of the prime merch factory.

“No clue but our feed is up.”

“Thanks.” He said quietly.

“Not me, Ayla had it up last night.” He said pointing at the monitor. “She found background on all of them, the missing pieces from her laptop.”

“Pity we can’t print it off.”

“She did, well, sort of.” Jerry looked at him. “She didn’t show you?”

“Show me what?” He snarled.

Jerry pulled her DNA laptop over and started to pull up the data.

“How come you can touch it?” He asked growled.

“She gave me access, to everything.” Strand touched the screen and it shut down.

“No surprises there.” He growled.

“Did something happen I don’t know about?” Jerry asked and Karl pinched the bridge of his nose as he told Jerry what happened last night. “Oh.” He said simply.

“Yeah, I fucked up.” Karl scrubbed a hand over his face and paced. “So where do we stand with all the information, the case?” He had to just get on with it.

“The prime merch is under surveillance, we have background and parental info. Once we shut this down we can reunite. Ayla found the link to the milk money and I was right, runaways and homeless, the occasional school kid but those were borderline runaways. She’s taken every missing persons list from every county nationwide and run it against the websites buy/sell list, we’re still getting hits and that list is going to be astronomical. The websites have been up and running since the dawn of the internet.”

“So this goes deeper than Allen Raven.”

“Much deeper, though that part of the case will be for another time, we’re still collecting info.” Jerry leaned back in his chair and pulled the laptop into his lap. “The op is set, we have weeks to observe, but where it gets interesting is where Meekland’s involved. This asshole.” He tapped the screen in front of him and a photo of her boss filled it. “Is a prime merch purchaser. He’s a prime asshole too, but we’ll shelve that rant for another day. He’s purchased six girls over the past thirty years funneling money from the company we’re a part of, correction, were a part of. That’s a girl every five years, Meekland was, or is, his first, and he’s up for a new girl this year. He usually takes the third 16 year old prime Raven has to offer.”

“Good, we’ll be geared up to take his ass down. What happened to the others?” Strand asked already knowing the answer.

“We’re still running the searches for them. They’re either dead or chained somewhere much like Ayla was. There’s also connections to others in the department, some on Meekland’s list, some that Ayla found on top of it.”

“She’s uncovered all of this?” He looked at Jerry.

“I’m only just scratching the surface of information she has on here.” He said tapping her laptop. “Every transaction, every girl, prime down to milk money, every client and what they like.”

“She’s trying to right wrongs that aren’t even hers.” He murmured, echoing Mia’s words from the other day.

“She’s trying to help you.” Jerry said gently.

“I really fucked up didn’t I?”

“Yeah you did boss, but she’ll come around, give her time.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“She will, she loves you, you saved her.” Hunt said gently.

“I hit her.” Strand snarled.

“You slapped her hand away, it’s not the same as what was done to her and you know it.” Jerry said finding his spine.

“It may as well have been a full on backhand across the face.”

“Boss, that’s not who you are, but you did it and you can’t take it back.”

“No I can’t, and she may never trust me again.”

“Give her some time, Mia too.” Hunt said and got back down to it knowing Karl wasn’t one to talk about his feelings. They were all on edge, maybe the distance was for the best.

******

Strand spent the day reading and compiling notes on their next op, monitoring the feed from Wainwright. When it was apparent the girls were not going to surface he set his own searches to run, his own lists to compile and went to bed early, Jerry doing much the same. This would be their routine for the following weeks leading up to the op.

He was restless, the thoughts of what he’d done to Ayla, to Mia, how did he fix it? Time sure, mending the rift with Mia was easy enough, it wasn’t the first time they’d gone head to head, but Ayla? He may never be able to fully mend that chasm between them now. “Mia was right, I’m no fucking good for you sweet girl.” He growled and punched the pillow trying to make it more comfortable. “No fucking good at all.”

******

The following morning Strand made his way out to a silent house, the girls were still tucked away somewhere, his only concern was Ayla. Was she eating, sleeping, was she ok? Mia, he knew would surface eventually and they’d snarl at each other again for a while and things would get back to normal. Ayla on the other hand, she was alone again, he’d left her alone, the one thing he’d promised he wouldn’t do. With his thoughts on Ayla he sat and noticed his searches were complete, his notes compiled, and new searches running along roughly the same lines as his thoughts were at the new data.

“Ayla left that running for you this morning.” Jerry said as he sat, handing a coffee to Karl.

“She...” He breathed. “Was Mia with her?” He asked and Jerry shook his head.

“I haven’t seen Mia.” He said and Strand nodded.

“She’ll be back when she’s ready to strip another layer of skin from my hide.” He snarked and sipped his coffee. “Quite rightly.” He added in a low growl.

Settling in at the computer he got to work, more reading, more notes, more tugging loose ends to see what they unraveled. Jerry did much the same, the pair working in a comfortable silence. That would be their routine for the next few weeks. Get up, silently thank Ayla for finding whatever she was able to find for him and Jerry, work, sleep, rinse, repeat.

He put Ayla out of his mind as much as he could, he had to if this op was going to be successful, which was increasingly difficult as the days turned into weeks. He missed her, that slight smile, her touch, her kiss, the way she looked at him as if he was her whole world.

“Shit.” He snarled one night as he sat outside looking up at the moon, the soft halo that surrounded it. “That’s because you are her whole world you fuckhead.” He swore, this was all she knew outside of the concrete shit hole Raven had put her in, he was all she knew. Coming back into the house he wasn’t expecting to see Ayla at the computers, working hard to find them whatever lead she could. He felt his breath rush out at the sight of her, she’d put on weight, the gaunt, frail look gone from her limbs.

Without hesitation he walked to her and dropped to his knees beside her, he’d grovel if he had to, anything to make it right. He saw her hands freeze on the keys as he turned her chair and rested his forehead on her knees.

“I’m sorry.” He choked. “I’m so fucking sorry.” He knew this had freaked her out just by the way she sat stock still, barely breathing. He kept his hands in his lap, not trusting himself to touch her in case he damaged their tenuous relationship any further. “Nothing, absolutely nothing excuses my behavior, for slapping your hand away, for terrifying you, hurting you. I’m sorry.” He stared at her bare feet, her toenails painted a sunny yellow, the manacle marks at her ankles only a slightly darker shade of pink now instead of angry red welts, the silver scars from years of wearing them like a spiderweb. “I’m no good for you, but I know I’m all you’ve got. I’ll do better.” He left it there, half expecting the silence that followed, half terrified she’d push him away. When her shaky hand cupped the side of his head tenderly he almost choked on a sob. “I don’t deserve you, someone as forgiving as you.” He whispered and leaned into her hand eager to feel more of her, that loving touch he craved.

Her finger hooked under his chin and she tugged enough for him to lift his head, a silent plea to look at her. He felt his heart lurch as he laid eyes on her face for the first time in nearly three weeks. Sea green eyes looked back, intense, sharp, loving. The weight she’d put on had filled out her cheeks, the hollow look gone without a trace of the tortured woman beneath.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, his voice catching and the slight smile that tugged the corners of her mouth melted him as she brushed a thumb over his lips. Melted, him, the asshole Karl Strand, on his knees, a fucking mess at her feet.

The ping of the computer had her head whip around. She studied the data, as he studied her, before turning back to face him. Her eyes searched his and before he could stop her she kissed him, that slow burn that told him she’d not only forgiven him, that she wanted more, it spoke of a love he wasn’t entirely sure he was worthy of. Turning back to the screen she dropped her hand from his face and with a few keystrokes pulled up the data he’d been searching for earlier.

“I’m sorr...” She touched a finger to his lips and shook her head, it was finished now. He stayed where he was, reading the data she’d pulled up, her hand casually resting on his shoulder, fingers absently toying with the collar of his shirt. It was such a tender intimacy he’d never had before and it floored him.

“Thank you for you help the past few weeks.” He said softly as his emotions settled. “Jerry and I have been able to get this case organized and progressing. We’d still be neck deep in it if we didn’t have your help.” She looked at him and he felt her eyes search his face, her soft kiss melting him again.

A little after three she set a few searches to run and pushed back her chair to stand. Karl was still on his knees, not game to move from his spot, terrified the spell would be broken and this little slice of peace with her would be taken from him. He looked up at her, the rich whisky colored hair framing her face, damn she was stunning. Holding out her hand for his, he chuckled. This was a turn of events he thought, the slight smile telling him it wasn’t lost on her either. He stood, his tall frame dwarfing hers, the urge to kiss her, hold her, overwhelming. Taking his hand in hers she led him to her room. He stopped on her threshold and looked at her. “Sweet girl.” He breathed as she tugged his hand. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” His gentle tone trying to ease her into the rejection. He couldn’t sleep with her tonight even though his body yearned for it. His emotions were a mess and if he fucked this up now they’d be done forever.

Her eyes pleaded and the hand in his shook slightly. “I want to, but...” She shook her head and tugged his hand. Stepping into the room she surprised him when she shut the door quietly behind him. He looked around her room, it too had changed, there were books on the nightstand, clothes in the closet he could see via the slightly open door. Mia had taken her shopping, or online shopping at least. He watched as she sat on the bed and patted her hand on the covers.

“You sure sweet girl?” He asked and at her nod he walked to the other side and climbed in. Watching her she climbed under the covers, switched the lamp off, and tentatively moved closer to him, the need to feel her in his arms making his fingers itch. With the moonlight streaming through the open curtains he let his eyes adjust to the glow. Her fingers twitched as they touched his arm, still unsure and timid of sleeping beside him in a bed. He was about to suggest he go sleep in his room when she shifted, laying beside him, body flush with his, her hand fisted in his shirt as her head rested on his bicep. “Sweet girl.” He breathed and wrapped his arms around her slowly, the press of her against him stirring something inside him that should have stayed dormant. “I missed you.” He whispered and kissed her head, the scent of her clouding his mind, his reasoning, his judgement. “I’m so sorry.” Her head tipped back to look at him as her fingers trailed thought his scruff, those soft lips brushing his tenderly. “Sleep sweet girl, we both need sleep.” Because if she kept touching and kissing him like this he would fuck her to satisfy his own craving for her. She curled into him, her head burrowing under his chin and relaxed. Holding her close he leveled out his breathing and willed his over confident cock to stand down. How the fuck did he end up with these sorts of feelings for her?

He felt her plummet into sleep, but his mind raced. She looked peaceful in his arms, the weeks of food, water, sleep, and safety blossoming her into a very attractive woman. “Sweet girl you undo me, make me feel things I’m not sure I have the right to feel.” He murmured into the night, the scent of her filling his senses and pulling him under. “I’m still no good for you.” He mumbled.

******

He woke with a start as she shifted, the sun painting the sky beyond the curtains pretty colors. They’d only been asleep for a few hours and he growled as he hit the button to close the curtains for more darkness. She trembled as the sun disappeared, the soft blue glow from the curtains the only light in the room. “You’re safe sweet girl, sleep some more.” He cuddled her in close, the softness of her body a sharp contrast to the body he’d held weeks ago after bringing her out of the concrete prison she’d been forced to live in. She turned into him, face buried into his chest, the soft whimper tearing at him. “You’re safe with me.” He brought his arms around her tighter and kissed her forehead, sleep still held her just as tightly. “You’re always safe with me.” Her body slowly went lax, the warmth from him soothing her as much as his voice.

******

He woke hours later to the prickly feeling he was being watched. His eyes snapped open to see those sea green pools staring at him from under dark lashes. If things weren’t as fragile as they were he would have stripped them both naked and taken her. He found being this close to her, with that look made his blood boil in the most erotic way. “You have the prettiest eyes sweet girl.” He murmured, his voice husky with need. Feeling this way about her wasn’t healthy. She tilted her head back, stretched up, and kissed him. “We can’t Ayla.” He breathed as he pulled back, fuck this was killing him. “I...” She kissed him again sweetly and pulled back the covers. “I’m not good for you.” He said as she climbed out of bed, the flat look she gave him was one of annoyance, she didn’t want to hear it. “Fuck me.” He swore as she closed the bathroom door. “I’m trying to do the right fucking thing here.” He sighed to the ceiling.

He couldn’t get involved with her. Once the case was finished, what then, he wasn’t the settling down type. He didn’t want to play happy families. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck her and leave her, she didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve the domination game he liked to play. He played hard and rough and that was far from what she needed. Sex for him was explosive, was a primal need to be sated, to take and give only what he allowed, where he was in control, he was the one making choices. It was always concentual, but his tastes ran a little wild.

Dressed she came out of the bathroom and glanced at him before disappearing, closing the door behind her. He ripped off the covers off angry at himself, fuming at this whole fucked up situation. Heading back to his own bathroom he shucked his sweats and shirt and stroked his raging hard cock, fuck he needed release.

Under the hot spray he soaped up and began to find it, the image of Ayla invading his mind. His hand pumping slowly as if he was sinking into her, her tightness enveloping him. Letting his fantasy run wild he took her with his mind, every inch of her devoured while he fucked her. His soft grunt as he came more a sigh as he rode the pleasure the mere thought of fucking her gave him. Rinsing off he turned the water off and wrapped a towel at his hips. Staring in the mirror he was disgusted with himself. “You have no business lusting after that woman.” He snarled at his reflection. “She doesn’t need your shit you asshole.” He dressed and headed out to hunt down some food.

******

Seeing Ayla at the workstation with Jerry he smiled, she was looking good and seemed happy. Mia glared at him from the kitchen and he thought now was as good a time as any to clear the air between them.

“I apologized to Ayla last night.” He said softly and took a seat on the opposite side of the kitchen island, he wasn’t completely stupid. “On my knees.”

“As you fucking should.” She growled.

“Mia, I really want to move on from this, for her sake, but if we need to go a round where you beat the shit out of me for it then step the fuck outside.” His tone was irritated, he wanted to move them all past this.

“I’m not as naïve as she is Strand. I know what you’re capable of and exactly what you are.”

“I’m an asshole, I’ve never lied to her about that. I even reiterated that last night. I’m an asshole and I don’t deserve her, but as you keep pointing out, it’s her fucking choice.”

“You can always say no.” She ground out.

He stalked around the island and got in her face, in her space. “I have. Repeatedly.” His glare lit the fire in her eyes. “Take a swing Mia, you’ll only get one.”

“You fucking know ones all I need.”

“Then consider it a free pass.” He welcomed her violence, the pain would be better than the ache in his heart for Ayla.

“You’re in love with her.” She whispered, the realization dropping from her lips seriously as she clued into the internal pain he was feeling.

“I don’t know what I feel for her Mia, and that terrifies me.” He backed off, his eyes flicking to the rec room entrance. “She’s the complete opposite to what I’m usually interested in. Sex aside because it’s not happening, what do I have to offer her? I’m a loner, I’m a prick, I’m controlling, I’m everything she shouldn’t want to ever see again after what she’s been through.”

“She doesn’t see it that way Karl. God you’re so thick sometimes.” She blurted out suddenly exasperated. “You’re the first male to care about her, and despite the situation of how you met, she loves you. She’s discovering who she is and what she likes.”

“I don’t want to hurt her, intentionally or not, I can’t bear to see her in pain or upset, it fucking guts me Mia.”

“You’re helping her find her way Strand, it’s a big deal for her.”

“Has she talked to you?” He asked.

“No, she hasn’t uttered a word to me. We did girly things, shopped online, ate ice cream watched some movies. I gave her a taste of what normal single girls do.” She looked at him. “She not naïve about sex, she didn’t get upset at sex scenes in the movies we watched, she knows the difference between what was done to her and what’s normal.”

“My sexual taste is a little on the wild side Mia and you know that.”

“You’re never going to know hers if you push her away and deny her.”

“I like the domination the spanking, the hand at the throat, and I like it rough, I highly doubt she’ll be into that.” He growled.

“Like I said, you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her. She’ll find her voice when you do Karl. You want her to talk to you, to open up? You need to do the same.” She sat the coffee in front of him and took a bowl of ice cream in for Ayla, he smirked at that, it had become her normal.

******

Each night Ayla curled up with him he thought about what to say to her, chewed on Mia’s words. In the morning he would shower after her and stroke himself until he came, thinking of her and those sea green eyes he’d fallen in love with. Did he love her or was it just lusting after her because they’d been forced together? During the day the four of them worked, the sell date creeping forward, the methodical task of closing the net and catching every last one of these monsters. Then and only then could he really dive into his feelings for Ayla and determine a way forward, that’s if she didn’t make his choice for him in the mean time.

******

As the days crawled toward the second auction Ayla had settled. Working with Jerry, curling up at night with Karl, spending more time venturing outside to unwind with Mia. Strand had noticed the spark in her, taking chances, making choices, becoming herself. She was still reserved and calculating, but more at ease with the three of them.

“I have a question.” Jerry said as they sat around the dinner table one night. “In a few days the auction is going to go live, because, hey, we’re the ones initiating it. But will they be expecting an infant to turn up as per usual?” Karl looked at him and thought about it.

“I would assume so.” He mused. “The switch happened after he’d kidnapped the child, it was when he dropped it off that he collected the teen.”

“We might have a problem then. If they’re expecting a baby for the teen, we’re fucked.”

“Not necessarily.” Mia said. “You can always lock it down when you collect the teen. No one in or out.”

“Another question is will they hand over the teen to someone that’s not Raven?” Jerry said softly.

“You’re full of good cheer tonight.” Karl said sarcastically as he tossed his cutlery on the plate. “Plan B?”

“We don’t have one.”

“We better make one.” He growled. “Could Davis or Wainwright pass for Raven with some help?” He asked Mia.

“I can work on it, have them send a scan of their bone structure and I can work some magic.”

“It was a quick handover and in the dark.”

“Burke will be on that night, we’ll get her to answer the door. Maybe he had trouble getting an infant? Would they accept that?” Karl mused and watched as Ayla slipped away and came back with her DNA laptop. She silently worked on something while they tossed ideas around and he mentally kicked himself he hadn’t thought of this issue sooner. Had your mind been where it should be, he scolded himself, on the op and all the logistics that went with it, this would have been rectified weeks ago not days before. Instead you’re off chasing a piece of ass that you shouldn’t be tangoing with.

“I don’t see why not, it’s his operation.” Jerry shrugged.

Ayla looked at Karl. “What is it sweet girl?” Her eyes flicked to everyone in the room and she turned the laptop around. Strand scanned the list. “The dates are different.” He looked at her. “For the ones you highlighted. He’s had issues with snatching a kid on the anniversaries in the past.” She nodded. “We can use that. At least this isn’t going to be a once off.” There was sorrow in her eyes tonight, the case and what they had to do weighing on her, her own trauma and history. “Thanks.” He smiled at her and she nodded again as Mia dished up ice cream. He watched Ayla take her bowl and laptop back and get down to work again. “She’s already feeling it.” Strand said quietly to the other two. “The case, the apprehension, the pressure.”

“She feels powerless.” Mia said and took another bite of strawberry ice cream. “Vulnerable. She knows she’s safe, but she knows other aren’t and she can’t stop what’s happening.”

“She’s helping though.” Strand said as he saw her pull more data up on screen and run more searches.

“Maybe you should tell her that.” She shrugged. “She feels responsible Karl, and I know that sounds ridiculous, but she was with him for her entire life, watched as he destroyed others. She was powerless in the literal sense, she’s not now.”

“Righting wrongs that aren’t hers.” He sighed.

“We know that.” Mia said, leaving it hanging, she squeezed his shoulder as she walked to the kitchen.

They continued to work the slight change to the op, Mia and Jerry finding their beds at around 11, Ayla was still plowing through data. Strand sat next to her as he compiled op notes to send to the team and setup a call tomorrow to run through it. He saw the tears, her eyes intent on her work, the fact she ignored them breaking his heart.

“Sweet girl.” He sighed and brushed a knuckle against her cheek. Her fingers hastily scrubbed them away and she shook her head before trying to focus on her tasks. Pushing herself, he thought, pushing so hard to save them. “Ayla? None of this is your fault, you’re not responsible fo...” She pushed his hand away and shook her head. “You’re not.” Her tears turned into sobs. “Look at me.” He said gently. “Please.” Those stormy ocean green eyes held pain and anger when they looked back. “You had no choice but to do as he commanded.” He started. “None.” His fingers held her under the chin tenderly, his thumb stroking her tears away. “You were stolen, abused, used, you’re not responsible for what you had to do to stay alive and to keep him from torturing you.” His voice cracked at the keening sound coming from her. “You’re a good person sweet girl, you’re here helping. We didn’t ask, you made a choice to help the other girls. Made the choice to help us shut down the auctions, to get the girls to safety.” As he watched her those eyes saw parts of himself he couldn’t hide, parts he struggled to bury. “This is not your burden Ayla, that’s all on Allen Raven. You’re allowed to be angry at him, but not yourself. You had no choice back then sweet girl, none of this is your fault.” She nodded and he raked his fingers through her hair gently cupping her head and urging her close. Crawling into his lap she wept for the girls, for her part in it, for herself. “My sweet Ayla.” He murmured as he soothed her.

The tears subsided and she sat in his lap staring at the screens, that vacant look in her eyes, it had been weeks since she’d retreated inward. Setting a few searches to run overnight he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. He tucked her in and reassured her he wasn’t leaving for long, before taking care of his business in the bathroom. Leaving the curtains open wide he curled in behind her, his body cradling hers, protecting, soothing. She eventually rolled over, those slender fingers fisting in his shirt, her head using his bicep as a pillow. It had become their normal which Strand knew would be harder when it came time for him to leave. “Sleep now sweet girl, you’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.” For as long as I can, he added silently.

******

He woke to Ayla still huddled into him, the fragility of her blindingly obvious. Resting his lips on her head after a kiss he combed his fingers through her hair in an attempt to soothe her awake. “I don’t know what I feel when I’m with you.” He said quietly. “I don’t know if it’s love or lust, whether it’ll last beyond our time here. I don’t know if I should keep you at arms length for your own protection or for mine. Sometimes I’m not sure starting something with you is a good idea, but then when I’m near you I crave every inch of you.” He kissed her head again and breathed her in. “It terrifies me.” He whispered. “I don’t know how to be what you need me to be.” Her head tipped back and soulful eyes pinned him.

Her fingers toyed with his scruff and held him there as she kissed him, slow and tender. She was so giving, he thought, he’d done nothing to deserve that. “You sleep ok?” He asked changing topics quickly before he ended up doing something he’d regret, her nod set him at ease. “You don’t have to sit through the op review or any of it if you don’t want to.” She shook her head and started to get up. “Stay a minute.” He said quickly. “Please.” She snuggled back in and let him hold her, the feel of her hair between his fingers soothing him more than her.

******

He showered first, the op review looming closer by the minute and he wanted his thoughts in order. Leaving her to sleep some more he sat with a coffee and got down to business.

“Ayla not up yet?” Jerry asked as he sat with his own coffee.

“Rough night.” Karl thumbed through his file. “She blames herself.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. She’s retreated inward a little which is understandable.�� He tossed the file on the desk and brought up the prime merch feed. “I gave her an option of not joining us for the takedown, it’ll be her choice whether she joins us or not.”

“Fair call.”

“If only.” He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face as he punched in the number for the team and bringing them online for their briefing.

******

“It’s a solid plan Strand.” Davis rasped. “We’ll have the girl safely stashed away before the auction goes online.”

“You sure you’re ok for this?” Karl asked as he stared at the dark bruising against Davis’s throat.

“It sounds worse than it is.” He chuckled, which sounded like he’d smoked ten packs a day for a hundred years.

“Coms check and in position by 22:30. I want to watch the outside of the building for a while, make sure we’re not walking into something we’re not prepared for.”

“Copy that boss.”

With the briefing done and their operation stitched up tightly Strand wandered back to Ayla’s room. Curled up in a tight ball in the middle of the bed, she barely registered he’d appeared in front of her.

“Sweet girl.” He murmured. “You’re not alone, I’m right here.” He stroked her cheek gently before laying down next to her. His huge hands stroked and soothed gently until her body uncoiled and she looked at him. Her finger played with his scruff, as if it reassured her it was him. “Hey there sweet girl.” He smiled at her and her lips twitched into that half smile. What he wouldn’t give, he thought, to see a full happy smile, hear a belly laugh. Her finger trailed to his chest where it fanned out, the need to ground herself, feel safe. “You’re safe.” She nodded and looked up at him. “You hungry?” She shrugged. “I think Mia stashed some chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer earlier.” He grinned. “How about we go eat some?” He kissed her brow and she shook her head. “Tummy upset?” She nodded. Stress, fear, grief, he was so not equipped for handling this. “Understandable.” He kissed her brow again and just held her.

She drifted back to sleep, Karl able to separate himself from her to grab some dinner and make a mug of soup for her.

“She still in bed?” Mia asked as she stacked the dishwasher.

“Yeah, tired, overwhelmed, stressed. She blames herself.” He said quietly and Mia nodded. “I’m turning in for the night, staying close to her.” He mumbled and headed off to her room, but not before seeing the smirk plastered across Mia’s face. He felt ridiculous. He was a grown ass man getting all soft on a girl he had no business getting soft over.

He managed to persuade her to eat half the monster cup of soup he brought in, nibbled on the dark rye bread she liked. Sitting, legs stretched out he was consumed by his thoughts. Thoughts of past relationships, if he was being honest with himself he’d never had a long term relationship, it was one night stands or an arrangement like he and Meekland had. He hadn’t even contemplated that clusterfuck, was she loyal to her owner or to the girls, the case? Where did their relationship fit into it all, had she used him, too blinded by what he thought was love to see it? Was that why he couldn’t admit he loved Ayla? He watched her set the cup of soup aside and visit the bathroom. Was he in love with her? The eternal batchelor? Just be what and who she needs, he thought, as she climbed back into bed and curled up at his hip. A while later he lay behind her and cocooned her with his frame, safe, secure, dare he think it, loved.

******

The morning of the op he had to separate himself from her, get his head in the game, do his damn job. He pulled her from sleep gently, those eyes fluttering open as his fingertips brushed the hair from her face. “Morning sweet girl.” His smile brought that twitch to her lips he liked. “I have to get to work, I need to prepare for tonight.” She nodded but her hand gripped and scrunched his shirt. “I’ll be right here in the house, safe with you.” She nodded again. “I need to know you’ll be ok while I’m taking care of these assholes.” She pressed her face against his chest and relaxed, her grip on his shirt lessening. Nodding she looked up at him before her lips claimed his. It floored him every time she did that, made him feel emotions he wasn’t ready to handle. He deepened it, fingers raking through her hair to cup her head, greedy for a taste of her, to feel her, his cock stirring to life at the rush.

Resting his forehead on hers he eased away before he took it a step further. “I wish you’d talk to me.” His voice husky. “I’m skating a moral line with you. I want to do right by you, not take advantage of you or the situation, but at the same time I want to throw caution to the wind and give you what you want, what you’re asking for. Sex with me isn’t gentle Ayla, I like it rough, I like to dominate, and honestly, that’s the last kind of lover I want to be if I’m with you. Because I know it’ll hurt you, not physically, even I have lines I won’t cross, but psychologically.” He looked down into those pretty eyes. “I can’t do anything that might hurt you sweet girl. It’ll end me.” He kissed her brow and lingered. “It guts me when you cry, like there’s a tangible bond between us. I don’t know how to handle this, to do what’s right for both of us, I just don’t know. And though with most women I’d wing it, you’re different. So different that I want to do it right. And I’m fucking rambling.” He huffed a chuckle. “You’ve got me all tied up in knots.” She stretched up and kissed him, his soft groan into her mouth startling him. “I don’t deserve you, deserve what you freely want to give me. I’ll only disappoint you sweet girl.” She shook her head as if to say no you wont or you haven’t yet.

“I need to go to work.” He needed to step away to collect himself. She nodded and smoothed a hand over his chest. “I won’t deny I have feelings for you Ayla, I’m just terrified at what that’ll mean for us.” He kissed her forehead quickly and pulled back the covers.

A shower and some food in his belly seemed to settle the ragged edges of his emotions. Sitting with a coffee he digested the overnight searches enough to get his head in the game, they were closing in. To his surprise Ayla ventured out as they sat for dinner, showered, dressed, with a look of determination on her face. She sat next to him, her hands slightly shaking as she ate. My brave sweet girl, he thought, she was going to put herself through hell tonight. The internal war inside him to say something, tell her she didn’t have to do it, raged. Her choice, the little voice in his head whispered, she’d chosen to fight, to help the girls that had no choice in where they were, what they were forced to do.

He watched her take her ice cream into the rec room and sit at her laptop, fingers already moving as she worked, studied the op, took it all in. “Her choice.” He said gruffly as Mia looked at him disconcertingly. “I’ve explained she didn’t need to be in on this, that we understood if she wanted to sit this out. Her choice. Don’t chew my ass on it.” He grumbled and went to sit beside her. No way was he leaving her alone tonight.

******

Focusing on the op they monitored the prime merch factory, the team in position, and Wainwright looked like a carbon copy of Raven. So much like him he saw Ayla cower, the soft whimper escape before he placed his hand on hers and she gripped tightly. “That’s Wainwright sweet girl. I know with 100% certainty, Allen Raven is on Hades 6. That’s not him.” She nodded and kept a tight hold of his hand, the tremble in her body gutting him.

They watched with baited breath as Wainwright knocked on the door, the tense moments as it opened and the girl handed over to him. It wasn’t until he’d dropped the girl at the safe house and driven away that Strand broke the silence.

“Did they suspect?”

“No, I got no vibes that they knew something was off.” He was breathing a little easier now. “Burke and I are heading back to wait for the drop location. Davis is standing by with his team for deploying the net, just like last time.”

“Good job.”

“Save that until after we nail this next buyer.” He chuckled. “Were not done tonight.”

“No, we’re not, but you going undetected is a damn good start.” Strand said honestly.

In the brief hiatus between the teen pickup and the auction due to go online the team took a moment to calm the nerves. Ayla was quiet, too quiet, Strand thought, as he watched her out of his periphery. He was concerned when she turned down the bowl of ice cream that Mia had placed beside her. Those eyes were intense as they watched every screen, every bit of movement, preparing for Allen Raven to jump through the screen at her.

Karl tugged her hand gently and she looked at him. “Sweet girl.” He said gently, the invitation to curl up with him in his tone. It took her a moment to process his words, the offer of the safety she found in his arms. Without a word she hunched onto his lap, curled in as tightly as she could. “You’re safe sweet girl.” He murmured and kissed her hair, the scent calming him, her hand fisting in his shirt.

Jerry waited until 12:01 precisely to send the auction live, the quick paced bidding war had begun as the silence was interrupted every so often with a ping.

“There’s a few new buyers, I don’t recognize these four.” Jerry said pointing at the screen. Ayla was watching and her hand shot out to pull up data from her DNA laptop with a few easy strokes. “Ahhhh, that explains it. Another like our asshole commanding officer.” Jerry growled. “This guy is on a three year replacement deal.” While Jerry read, Ayla pulled the keyboard into her lap and pulled data on the other three. Even Karl had to admit her hacking skill were out of this world. Snuggled into him as she worked he started to watch her finesse the data, tease it out of every corner.

“You sweet girl, are amazing.” He breathed, that low rumble of his voice only for her to hear as he kissed her head. They worked through the early morning, jumping on every new bidder to obtain as much information as they could.

“These are the wannabes.” Jerry said as he compared this auction history to the last. “These guys bid for the thrill, knowing that the big fish have yet to enter. It hasn’t even tipped over 800 K.”

“Give it until nine tonight, things will start to pick up then for sure.” Karl said as he shifted Ayla in his lap.

“She’s asleep boss.” Hunt chuckled.

“I know. My ass is asleep too.”

“I’ll hold down the fort, go sleep. We can switch at lunch.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, I’ll wake you if the shit hits the fan.” Jerry turned and got to work and he looked at Mia. Her slight nod told him she’d keep the rookie company.

*******

Ayla barely moved as he carried her to her room. So not to disturb her too much he decided to sit up in bed, the mattress slightly more comfortable on his ass than the chair had been. Eventually he slid them horizontal and under the covers. Her dreams kept him awake, the soft whimper, her hands first pushing him away then pulling him closer. “Sleep sweet girl, you’re safe now, you’re safe with me.” He caged her in, his massive frame protecting her. Her sigh shuddered out and with it every ounce of terror and stress. “Sleep now Ayla, you’re safe.” She dropped into sleep like a stone and once he was sure she was out cold, he followed.

******

He knew she was watching him, could feel her gaze. Her finger brushed his scruff, the tip tickling his lip and he felt her jump at his chuckle.

“That tickles.” He smiled and opened his eyes to see those deep sea green pools looking at him, so soulful, a small smile tugged at her lips. He went to say something but her finger silenced him, the shake of her head telling him she didn’t want words, she wanted silence. Laying there in the quiet, her fingers mapping his face, he fell for her a little more, how could he not?

“You up boss?” Jerry called softly through the door as he knocked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m out. I need at least a solid six.”

“Sounds good.” He looked down at Ayla, eyes searching hers. She stretched up and kissed him, slow and soft, the tenderness from her melting him. He deepened it, the yearning for her tugging at him. Rolling he pressed her into the mattress, the feel of her beneath him igniting an inferno inside him, he wanted her like his next breath. “Ayla.” He breathed, losing himself to the moment, her mouth enticing him to linger. “I have to go to work sweet girl.” He said resting his forehead against hers, voice husky with need. She nodded and splayed her fingers out across his chest. “I could use the company, the help if you’re up for it?” He asked gently. She nodded again and tapped her fingers against his chest as if to say, get your ass up then.

He rolled off her and let her take a shower first, the tent in his sweats would be a dead giveaway as to what that kiss had done to him. Was he in love with her, he pondered, could he love her how she deserved, how she needed? She needed slow and tender, loving, could he be that for her? He watched as she came out in leggings and a sloppy knit sweater, how did that turn him on where he wanted to strip her naked and fuck her senseless?

He took a shower, a cold one, and joined her in the rec room where she’d made a coffee for him.

“Thanks.” He said sitting and she nodded as her fingers were already flying over the keyboard hard at work. “You find something sweet girl?” He followed her finger as it tapped the screen for the newest ping from the auction. “Ivan Petrov.” He murmured and Ayla nodded. “And he’s serious with that bid.” The auction just took a 1.3 million dollar hike as it evened it out to a cool 2.2 million total. “He watched as her fingers caressed the photo of Jerry ’s sister. “I know sweet girl.” He sighed. “Here’s hoping he’s the winning bidder.” His growl was feral. “Because then Jerry can beat the location of Eva out of him.” Her hand covered his and he calmed, it was almost instantaneous. “Before I ship him off to Hades 6.” He added looking down at her, understanding looked back. She stood and collected his cup, kissed his cheek, and wandered out to the kitchen.

They worked side by side until Mia surfaced around eight hungry. Ayla helped her out in the kitchen, her eyes intent on what Mia was doing. It was these simple everyday things that she’d been denied, he thought. Mia had taught her how to cook, how to do laundry, basic self care. She’d been denied so much.

Jerry made his way out at the smell of food and Karl filled him in on the current bidding situation with Petrov. “As much as I’d love to rig it so he wins, I want to see his fucking face when we take him down and he was none the wiser. There’a a great deal of satisfaction knowing he did it all himself and we’re going to nail him.”

“We may have to offer him a deal for your sister.” Strand watched him carefully.

“Then he gets a deal. He’ll still be shipped to Hades 6 even if I have to fly the damn shuttle myself.” Jerry spat.

“I wasn’t finished.” Karl growled, his irritation evident and Jerry backed off. “We’ll offer it to him, but there’s nothing in my current job description that says I have to honor that offer.” Strand watched as Jerry’s face split with a grin.

“You really are an asshole.”

“So I’ve been told.” He said wryly.

They sat and ate, the conversation about anything but the case, the need to step away briefly before submerging themselves in the job, the overwhelming nastiness that was sex slavery and pedophilia. Karl smiled at Ayla eating through a full meal, it seemed like only yesterday she was barely able to stomach half a cup of soup.

“Tomorrow we’re taking the day off and making burgers.” He said quietly. “I promised this sweet girl a juicy burger when we came here.”

“Mmmm, bison burgers.” Mia said wistfully. “I have some in the deep freeze.”

“Oven fries.” Said Jerry. “Gotta have the oven fries, all nice and crispy. You’re in for a treat Ayla.” He smiled. “Oooo and sourdough buns, toasted with mustard. God damn I haven’t had a decent burger in a while.” He chuckled.

They talked about other food she needed to try, tacos, gyros, hummus, roast turkey, laughed at Mia as she was virtually salivating. With full bellies and bowls of ice cream they ventured in to run the remaining part of the op. At 11:30 they were all business, the laughter put aside, the jokes saved for another time.

@hausofobsession @ill-skillsgard @grandpa-sweaters @authentic90skidd @tuckersgirl @fairlyfallacy @flowers-in-your-hayr @raewritesfiction @stinkerbelle007 @kamie-b @mrsaugustwalker @skrsgardspam @loliwrites @trippedmetaldetector @lihikainanea @fay-walden

#Karl Strand fanfic #a softer side #gustaf skarsgard #sexy as fuck

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rawbiredbest · 5 years

Text

It’s All in Your Head

Contains: Fluff, Angst, Unconventional Relationships, Telepathy, Demons Fandom: Marvel (comics) Relationships: Stephen Strange/Victor von Doom Characters: Stephen Strange, Victor von Doom, Wong, Boris Word Count: 6103

Out of the blue, Stephen Strange and Victor von Doom find themselves telepathically connected.

No squealing, remember that......

Content warning for canon typical violence, profanity, implied sexual activity, and a single usage of homophobic language by a very bad individual.

Graciously commissioned by @osheets! Wanna do the same? Check my info!

Read here or on AO3!

- - -

The breakthrough comes with rapturous spontaneity. It’s like Victor von Doom has been standing on the shore of a Latverian loch, and in the blink of an eye, the grains of sand have become an orchestra, the surf their masterful conductor, and he the sole audience. He has captured their forms in glass and steel, multiplied ten million fold in the casings of complex machinery, and the entire laboratory sings the path to a bolder, brighter future. In all of his years of experimentation, innovation, desperation, he has never heard this music before. It pours from every screw and bolt, vibrates along every copper wire, thunders out of every piston and valve. The engineers below him, controlling and monitoring the device, are Gods of melody and time. Doom himself has transcended divinity, rising high on sublime notes of praise. He is Emperor, Encapsulated Universe, and his feet do not touch the floor as he glides to the heart of his machine, his veins coursing with silver beauty. Hydrogen atoms dance into the arms of their palladium partners, and their heat is love, love for each other, love for nature, love for him, and it is a primordial force unlocked from decades of ridicule and shame, and he has set it free. Genius. Monarch. Ultimate.

And then it goes. Slowly, a receding tide. It slides from his bones, leaving them aching. He braces himself against a panel, cold sweat sticking to his brow. His heart hammers in his chest, a lone drum holding a marching beat long after the band has departed into the moonless night. The engineers gape at him, oblivious to the miracle that has deafened their ruler.

Doom touches the shielding glass of the operating CMNS reactor, and its vibrations are an idiot hum. He blinks salt from his eyes, breath condensing on the machine.

Four thousand, five hundred and six miles away, a doctor and his best friend leave Madison Square Garden, wearing concert merch, beaming like loons.

- - -

To Stephen, it’s a tsunami.

He’s watching TV. The nightly news. He could tap into the Eye and view the entire world as it turns, but he doesn’t want to. It isn’t very often he feels human, let alone vegetable, so any opportunity to vegetate he takes with gusto. Stretched across his couch, he tugs down the hem of his shirt, leans his head on his hand, and waits to absorb the country’s woes.

He gets a sharp pain on the nape of his neck instead. He swats at the spot, looks at his palm. “Ow.”

Wong looks up from the email he’s writing. “Are you okay?”

Strange frowns, settles back down. “I think there’s a mosquito in here.” They’re talking about the Amazon fires. Stephen’s heart aches for the birds who will drop from the sky, their lungs full of smoke, voices forever silenced.

And then pain rips down his back, like his spine is torn out by an iron hand from his neck to his waist.

He can’t help but yell then, clutching the cushions. A heavy ache lingers in his vertebrae. Gingerly he sits up, breathing hard, eyes clenched shut. Something a bit like petrichor, a bit medicinal, a bit hot fills his nose.

Wong runs to him, but Strange raises a hand. “I’m fine,” he says, though he already braces against the thick lump rising next to his heart. As it crests, it dissipates throughout his body. He forces his eyes open, expecting to see the black trails of tiny spiders beneath his skin. Nothing but unmarked flesh.

“Should I call Doctor Carter?” Wong asks, thumbing toward the antique phone. It’s enchanted to call anywhere, anytime, any-plane.

“No, no.” Stephen leans on his knees, rubbing his temples. The pain is moving, changing. “This isn’t exactly her--”

--forte, he wants to say, but he is cut off by trees. Huge trees. Trees that consume the sky in fractal tangles of evergreen. Primordial, pristine trees, the definition of trees. The little things that crawl beneath and flit between, some carrying light, some with rigid jaws.

It’s a psychic attack. Strange has weathered them before. This one is weird. As he waves for Wong to get the Eye, he endures the spikes of pain that impale his senses to grab a closer look. This entity is lumbering, gigantic in scope yet wet around the edges.

It’s being born, he realizes. It’s waking up.

It hurts, it hurts but he’s curious. He sees New York now, its spires and streets lined up like so much circuitry. He feels the rough brush of concrete, hears the car horn concerto, smells the burn of rubber, and all throughout are rules, parameters, reasons. The thing is learning, feasting on information, and gathering more at an exponential rate. A tidal wave of green descends on the city, picking and plucking at this imaginary world.

And as it eats, thousands and thousands of hungry mouths devouring America, it hates. It hates the excess, the cruelty, the inefficiencies. It roars, barreling down the Sanctum, thousands upon thousands of tons of incomparable loathing.

Wong presses the Eye into Stephen’s hand.

“Pardon my French, dear friend,” Strange says.

The Eye bursts open, and the Sorcerer Supreme throws every ounce of his mystic might at the slavering invader. The living room cascades with dancing whorls of light as he raises his arms, funneling a solar flare, and cries a spell that every New Yorker knows by heart.

“FUCK OFF!”

Utter obliteration. When he opens his eyes, glittering motes trickle from the ceiling. The pain is gone. The TV has gone to commercial.

The phone is ringing.

Wong answers it as Stephen sinks to the couch. He slips the Eye around his neck, and its weight comforts. He thinks he’ll sleep with it tonight.

“It’s for you.”

Strange massages his ear. Vulgarity is embarrassing, but faced with an immaterial infant in the depths of an unholy tantrum doing everything in its power to cram a fork in a magic electrical socket, seemed like a good idea at the time. He takes the phone. “Hello?”

“Doctor! The master -- Victor -- something has happened, I do not know-- I--”

“Boris?” Stephen sits up. “Boris, it’s all right. Slow down. What’s going on?”

Behind the old retainer’s words, a siren wails. “The master--” He hesitates. “His newest Doombot. He turned it on for the first time. All was well, and then it exploded! And now Victor -- he is breathing this flame, this plasma! It burned through his mask! Doctor, what do I do!?”

Strange inhales deep. Counts to three. Lets it go. “He’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? I do not mean to doubt you, but--”

“It will pass. Give him an ice pack and put him somewhere dark and quiet for a few hours.”

“I trust you, doctor, but please, when you can, come and see him. The violence of it, it scares me.”

“I know. It’s fine. Just something he ate.”

Boris thanks him and hangs up.

Stephen wishes the couch would eat him as he heaves a sigh. “Wong,” he asks, “Is it too late to rescind discovering my bisexuality at the ripe age of however old I am now?”

“I don’t know,” Wong replies, “To both parts of your question. I lost count in the five hundreds.”

Strange curses again.

- - -

“So. We have a telepathic link. Any idea how it got there?”

He may as well be speaking to a wall of granite. Doom, arms folded, sneers at him across the table.

Stephen links his fingers together. “I have nothing. It’s rather disconcerting. I don’t believe it’s malevolent, which is always a plus, but it’s unremarkable, which isn’t. So I’d appreciate any insight, Victor. Whatever you’d like to...you know. Get off your chest.”

Doom’s eyes are cold.

“Anything at all. Need to vent? I know you can get heated.”

The table weighs over three hundred pounds, yet Doom flings it at him like a feather. Strange cuts it in half with a bolt of solid light as Crimson Bands constrict around his other arm. They serpentine and splinter into smaller tendrils, their tips unhinging into fanged blooms, and a thought comes to Stephen as the king charges him: he was born in a forest. It’s nature’s fury that fills his head, a cacophony of hellish noise, the wild hunt calling for his spilled blood. Doom’s rage in concentrated, psychic form, howling down their link.

The Daggers of Denak, blades spinning, do an admirable job trimming the vines, their severed heads still snapping, and Strange summons the Winds of Watoomb to push Doom away. The gale staggers him yet he presses forward, arcane runes flashing a ice blue aegis on his gauntlet. Step by step, forcing him back towards the wall.

He lunges. Strange is ready for it. Doom’s arm comes up, Stephen’s arms fan out. Before the king grasps his throat, he calls a pair of razors into his palms. Victor’s grip is suffocating. Strange holds his head between two guillotine blades. An impasse.

Doom’s voice rasps, thin and scorched. “That. Hurt.”

Stephen sips the tiny breaths he can. Something’s pressing into his belly. Sweat beads on his brow. It’s a gun. It’s the stupid gun Doom carries in the stupid pouch on his stupid belt. Why does he even have it? For shooting idiot sorcerers, he thinks. He swallows hard, knows Doom can feel it through the metal. Not so evenly matched as he thought.

And then he notices it. Hiding deep under the screams is a layer of fire. Reaching through the link, he touches it. Color rushes to his cheeks.

“Seriously?” he ekes out, “This is turning you on?”

Doom’s grip loosens. A minuscule amount, enough for Strange to squeeze a few more words. The fire leaps into his psychic palm, eager, aggressive.

“There’s no shame in it. You’re good at what you do, Victor. Very few people can put me in check. Look at you. You’ve pinned me to a wall like a butterfly. That’s impressive. I--”

The king leans closer. Stephen smells ashes on his breath.

“Hoary hosts.”

The gun is holstered. A steel thumb strokes his cheek.

“Reap what you sow,” Doom mutters.

- - -

The aches and bruises will last for days, but the coolness of Doom’s armor against the carpet burn on his back is soothing. He rests a hand in the king’s own. Anything else feels too strenuous. “Was that your first time having telepathic sex? It’s intense, isn’t it?”

Victor takes in the state of the room. Paintings smashed, furniture so much firewood, stone walls fractured and cratered. How much destruction is his? He has no idea. One or the other had to have held back. The castle is still standing, after all.

Neither man speaks. Stephen ventures a glimpse down their link and gets only an image of black curtains. Doom’s already set up defenses. Though some of his own are raised, he lets some satisfaction flow between them. An olive branch.

A quiet, amused huff. “At times, Strange,” Doom says, and already his voice sounds better, “Your physical merits outweigh the strenuous mental exertions you put me through.”

“I never much cared for the medieval aesthetic myself, yet here we are.” He grunts as he looks over his shoulder, thighs twinging. “How drunk were we that night?”

“Doom was sober.”

“Oh no, your golden goblet saw plenty of refills. You were, at the very least, tipsy.”

“You question Doom’s memory?”

Stephen cups his chin, looks deep into dark brown eyes. “I question, my lord, why you claim to remember, with crystal clarity, a night you could have easily decreed never happened at all.”

Nothing comes. No biting remark, no caustic humiliation. Doom only holds his gaze, and under the black curtains flashes something bright, something strong. It lasts for only half a second before the king gets up, using Strange’s shoulder for support. “This link shall be insufferable. Do your part to get rid of it.”

Stephen frowns, annoyed that his legs work. He wonders if Victor left any of his clothing intact. “Right. Ground rules. Stay out of my head, and I won’t make you cough up another star. Deal?”

“Stay out of Doom’s head, and you shall not know pain unending. You have a deal.”

- - -

This lasts for two months.

- - -

On Day 51, a current of malicious satisfaction slithers through Strange’s mind. Gooseflesh rises up his back. The half-chewed wad of pastrami and egg in his mouth goes sour. He spits it out, bracing himself on the dinner table, and without thinking of thinking, he thinks: what have you done now?

The smirk on Doom’s face reminds him of the crocodiles at the Bronx Zoo. The thing Victor is smiling at reminds him of shop class. He can’t begin to make heads or tails of it. Like many of the king’s devices, it could have come off the set of a sci-fi movie. Sleek and chrome, rigged with multicolored wires, pumps, and gauges, a porthole reveals the heart of the machine, a vile purple light. Stephen’s gut tells him that color would eat him alive if it could, tear into his flesh and drip his blood from its teeth. Stephen trusts his gut.

Strange, Doom replies, smile quickly fading into a scowl, We had an agreement.

You broke first. I felt you. My spidey sense tingled.

Victor’s gauntlets ball into fists, and he sends a wave of serrated anger barreling toward the magician. A chained wolf, barking and snarling. An executioner waiting for the condemned to dig his own grave deeper.

Stephen curses. He didn’t mean to think that out loud. Look. Just tell me what it is and I’ll leave you alone.

The black curtains rustle, then lift like a wing. Swimming in the purple light are mathematical equations, coiling around metal rods. It makes perfect sense to Doom, but to Strange it’s a form of gibberish undecipherable by any eldritch tome.

Then he hears it. It’s not coming from the machine. It’s from Doom. Subvocalized lyrics. A silent song. He could recognize the tune anywhere.

He bought its album at the concert.

This is cold fusion.

Stephen snaps back to attention. Cold fusion. Should I be worried?

Victor folds his arms. That I built a safe, eternal form of energy for myself and my people? Yes, Strange, cower and quake. Your country shall never have it so long as I draw breath.

There are many dangerous rebuttals to that he could say. Names he could drop. Yet Doom promised pain unending. Fifty-one days into their connection, Strange has no leads into its inner workings. Finding out if he could make good on his word is a risk Stephen is unwilling to take.

I don’t like this, the sorcerer thinks, but I have to believe you. Don’t misbehave.

His own mental defense is a never-ending subway express train, its doors and windows a veil of golden thorns. Sighing, he sits back down. What’s left of his sandwich has the appeal of wet newspaper.

Doom was right. The link is awful.

- - -

On Day 60, despite the blazing fire in the hearth, Victor’s feet send ripples through a puddle.

He regards it from his antique armchair throne with indifferent curiosity. Through the filters in his mask, he smells the green, pungent scent of foliage rot and seawater. In the puddle itself swim millions of plankton. A frenzy of eating, fucking, dying, and birthing unfolds beneath his alloy soles.

From the corner of his eye, he watches the puddle extend an arm of water across the floor. Sliding under a wall, a line of slithering damp turns the paint a moldy gray. Moisture fans across the entire side of the room in a pattern like falling stars, like skeletal hands trailing through a river. The scent grows stronger as the puddle expands. He rises before it consumes his chair. The leather sinks until it is a speck of mahogany in the brine. Gloom washes over it and it is gone.

Doom folds his arms. A breeze teases the tail of his cloak. Murmuring a quiet word, he puts out the fire with an arc of a finger, and turns around into another world.

It is eternal night. It has no sun, and what few stars can be seen are lucky glimpses through a lush canopy of branches and black, web-like leaves many hundreds of feet above. The grass under him has a sticky grip, but gentle. If grass could want for anything, it would like to give the king safe passage on his journey. He isn’t the sustenance it’s looking for. That comes on the wind, in the form of tiny shards of detritus falling from forest layers high overhead. It shimmers as it tumbles down, the only source of light in this hadal garden.

He doesn’t need to go far. Half-concealed behind a root far taller than he, Doom watches himself and Stephen Strange on the next mound over.

The magician talks with grand gestures, sweeping an arm over trees as dark as ink. Doom remembers himself speaking little, allowing Strange to tell him the highlights of the world. No recorded examples of predation. Negligible changes in evolution for millennia. A slow world. A place of peace.

Stephen steps into the water. Waist deep, he holds out his arm. His garb drips off him, revealing pale skin. He smiles, bare and inviting.

The other Victor undoes his belt.

“And you complain when I get you out of the house.”

Doom peers at the Stephen Strange sitting in lotus position beside him. “You drag me into your affairs with no concern for my well-being or sanity.”

“Please. The times you dig your heels in are cursory, at best. And then we end up doing things like this.”

Across the mound, the other king’s armor sits in a neat pile, and the two doctors stand in each other’s arms, their lips meeting and parting only to inhale.

Victor kneels on the grass. “Even you are capable of stumbling onto a good idea.”

Stephen’s lip curls upward. “I think about this often. This place is beautiful. This memory pleasant. I took effort not to broadcast this to you. My apologies if I disturbed you.”

Doom looks away. “You did not.”

“Oh? Your Royal Highness, we had an agreement.”

“Am I not allowed to reminisce myself?”

“Ssh. Meditate with me.”

He closes his eyes. Strange’s hand creeps into his own, and he lets it stay.

Perhaps he was wrong. The link isn’t so bad.

- - -

Wake up! Wake up, wake up, wake up!

Stephen rolls molasses slow toward awareness. The bedroom is pitch black, swimming in unholy hour of the morning disorientation.

Your wife is in trouble!

He cracks an eye open, shifting in the sheets. “Clea?”

No! Your big green wife! Get up, right now!

Those aren’t his thoughts. It’s a voice he’s never heard before, coming from inside his head. He holds very still and feels something slither over his brain.

He snaps wide awake.

I’m sorry we have to meet like this, the voice says, but we must hurry. The whole world is at stake!

In any other circumstance, Strange would interrogate the voice within an inch of its life, but its fear is genuine. Swinging out of bed, he yanks some pants on, startles the Cloak of Levitation from of its own sleep, and pulls open a portal to Latveria.

Curse me for a novice! the voice squeaks, That can’t be good!

Enormous rends in reality drape over the castle. Shimmering in the air, some bisect the stone in clean, monomolecular cuts. One vomits a steady stream of magma, causing a massive fire in the castle courtyard. Through each of them Stephen sees other dimensions. Another hole fans out from the keep itself and drops a mass of red crystals that crush an entire rampart.

Please! Hurry!

Stephen slams the portal shut, imagines his destination, and wrenches open a new one directly to Doom’s lab. The room is bathed in sunset colors and thick, acrid smoke. At its heart lies the fusion reactor, which is now anything but cold. The purple light pounds waves of energy, reverberating off its containment and magnifying a new tear in the world.

Victor stands in front of the machine. His motions are jerky, abrupt, a marionette controlled by a mob of children. He lifts a twitching hand and the tear throws itself through the castle to join the others outside.

Sister-Brother! the voice cries, Stop!

Doom’s arms drop, strings cut. The voice that comes from his mind is higher than the other.

No, I don’t think so, it says, I think I’m going to continue. You’re more than welcome to burn.

“You’re the link,” Strange says.

Just figured that out now? Sister-Brother asks, Wow, Brother-Sister. You sure drew the short straw. My host is incredible. I’ve mapped every gyri and sulci in here and it’s gorgeous. I’d stay forever if I could. It’s almost a shame he has to die.

Stephen glares, raising his hands, fingers glowing with magic. “As Sorcerer Supreme, I command you to release Doctor Doom!”

The laugh that echoes down the link is nails on a chalkboard. You have no idea what we are.

“You’re playing with fire. You’re threatening the dimensional stability of all of Doomstadt. And when I find you, you’ll have hell to pay.”

This host has already seen hell, Sister-Brother chides, What better place to grow up than in a body demon-touched? Have you considered that I’m doing him a favor? This is how it plays out. This is fate.

Doom turns around without his mask.

A bloodcurdling shriek ricochets across Strange’s mind, his hand thrusts forward with a will not his own, and a thunderbolt connects with the king’s head. Victor flies against a control panel, smashing it with the weight of his impact. Groaning and creaking, the reactor starts to power down, sprinklers in the ceiling damping the flames.

His face, Brother-Sister whispers, Gods, oh gods, what’s wrong with his face...

Stephen contains his screams until he kneels at Doom’s side, hefting his body into his arms. The scent of burning meat fills his nose. He howls for someone, anyone, to help him, royal blood seeping onto his chest.

- - -

He awakens to the beeping of the heart monitor.

Doom feels like mountainsides have taken residence on his eyelids. Slowly sliding them open, he takes inventory. The room is bright, sterile, no windows. He’s propped up in a bed. His hands are bare yet weigh like continents. He looks to his left.

“Hello,” Stephen says.

The sorcerer looks terrible. Ashen skin, reddened eyes, a frown threatening to rip his mouth off. The clothes he wears belong to any servant of the castle. The hands clasped together between his knees shake worse than Doom has ever seen.

“You’re on a morphine drip. You’ve been unconscious for the past twelve hours. You’re in the castle. We set up a makeshift triage room. For a while...” He takes a deep breath, steeling his voice. “We didn’t know if you would make it.”

Doom thinks, and his head is wonderfully quiet.

“Thank every deity you know that your skull is almost as hard as your armor. You’re going to be in a lot of pain for the next few days, but the alternative...I don’t want to think about. And I got rid of the link.” Strange picks up a jar from a nearby stand. “Meet Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother.”

Floating in cerebrospinal fluid are two worms. One is storm cloud gray bracketed by navy blue. The other is dark yellow-green with flecks of red. Flat as ribbons and only an inch long, they give each other a wide berth.

“Pineal parasites,” Stephen continues, “Stuck to the undercarriage of our minds, learning how to be through our eyes. They talked together through us. Saw magic through us. Deciphered grand machines through us. And now they’re ready to go home. That’s what yours was trying to do. They were looking for a place where nothing changes and nothing happens because all who go there are hijacked and killed. Not such a good idea after all, was it?”

Doom blinks.

Putting the worms down, Strange digs his wrists into his eyes. “Victor, I swear to you on everything I am I had no idea. I thought you’d like it. I thought you could forget being so angry, forget the Four if only for an hour, and be happy. Now you--”

He stares at the door, fist to his mouth. Swallowing his heart, he says, “I’m bringing them back. They’re not at fault. They’re just following their life cycle. Despite what they’ve done, they deserve to live.”

Birds that will choke on ashes, he thinks, Countless trees turned to dust. No more. No more death.

“The best doctors in your kingdom are here for you. I’ll be back.”

“Doom will go with you.”

Victor’s voice is quiet but steady. Stephen shakes his head. “No. You’re in no shape to get out of bed, let alone travel dimensions.”

The monarch shuts his eyes. Heavy footsteps pass through the door. A doppelganger in emerald and steel, the Doombot bows its head to its ruler.

“Doom will go with you,” Victor repeats.

Strange blows a ragged breath. By Doom’s creased brow, that wasn’t easy. “Okay. Rest now. Don’t do anything until I return.”

Victor says nothing. Stephen waits until he drifts to sleep, presses a kiss to rough lips, and departs, robot in tow.

- - -

Q-4301 is indistinguishable from the real deal, from its ramrod straight spine to its folded arms, yet there’s no look of wonder in its lenses, no human, if royally restrained, sense of adventure in its copper and silicon heart. It doesn’t care about the bits and pieces of gold falling from the alien canopy, the grass patting its boots. It stares at Strange, emotionless, and that very lack of feeling gnaws at the pit of the sorcerer’s stomach.

They’re on the same black water island mound as before. He can pick out the tree Victor pressed him against from all the rest. Had the microscopic eggs that birthed the parasite twins been attracted to their sex, or had it been sheer luck? He doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know.

In his hand is a candle made from the blood of priests. “Do you have them?” Stephen asks.

Q-4301 lifts a corner of its cloak. Sewn into the cloth is a glass vial. Brother-Sister and Sister-Brother are inside.

Strange nods. “I don’t know if Doom programmed you to feel fear. Either way, let me do the talking. If all goes well, you won’t have to do anything.”

The Doombot says nothing. Taking a deep breath, Stephen snaps a spark between his fingers and lights the candle.

The world goes silent. The wind ceases, and so does the steady fall of golden bits and bobs. The grass curls into tight nubs. The only indication that time has not stopped entirely is the gleam of flame like an undulating eel on the surface of the water. Stephen’s breath is deafening in his own ears.

The voice that speaks is low and obsidian slick. “Well, well, well. Look what the fags dragged in.”

The demon, descending from the trees, blends perfectly into the dark. Its teeth are yellowed and pitted from a diet of rot. It moves on long, soundless talons. Its eyes are cherry red, pupils like mouths.

“Doctor Strange,” the khat murmurs, “You honor me with your presence. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re a cautionary tale among khat-kind, you know. A warning about too much power in frail, mortal meat. Like stuffing a sun into a stomach, it’s only a matter of time till it bursts.”

Stephen purses his lips. “Cut the shit. I have something for you.”

The khat’s grin splits up to its ears. “A gift? Is it your heart? Your humanity? Your soul? Please tell me it’s your soul. I would so like your soul.”

“Come closer and I’ll show you.”

The demon pads on water, leaving no ripples in its path. “Is it the thing beside you?” Nostrils flaring, it sizes up the Doombot. “Not the usual breed of lost lambs you lead to slaughter. What sort of lies did you tell it to follow you? An offer of redemption, perhaps? Anything desperate enough to flaunt about in a green skirt would listen to you.”

“Desperation is for the weak,” Q-4301 snaps.

Strange swallows the ball of curses on his tongue and hopes it doesn’t show. Doombots fall for bait. Exactly like the original.

The khat stops. “Everything has weaknesses. You were once a babe in your mother’s arms, no? Look at your companion. The Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, can barely keep a friend around, let alone alive. No, no, no, there has to be a reason he wants you here.” It lies on all fours, rests its cheek on its fist. “What sort of gift was it again?”

Stephen starts to speak. Q-4301 beats him. “The only gift a demon like you deserves.”

Red eyes narrow in amusement. “Oh, it’s too much for a single khat to bear! Let me call my brothers. We shall find out together.” Rising into a crouch, it takes a deep breath.

There’s still time to salvage the plan. Strange shouts, “Do it!”

Q-4301 lunges into the water, tears the vial from its cloak, and thrusts its arm out. As predicted, the khat opens its toothy jaws and swallows the punch up to the Doombot’s shoulder. Payload delivered, they need to flee.

The portal spell is halfway done when Stephen spots Q-4301 motionless.

For a second, the khat too is still. Then, beaming around the steel in its mouth, it bites, and tears Q-4301′s arm off.

No robot could replicate the spray of blood and scream in agonized terror.

Strange doesn’t realize he’s also screaming. The khat snatches Q-4301′s shoulder and slams it beneath the surface. The water boils in the struggle. Shadows like hellish stalagmites reach for the leaf-choked sky as the sorcerer calls his magic. Black muck splatters the trees, the grass, Stephen’s legs as he gathers flame in his shaking palms.

The blast turns the water to steam as the garden sees more light than it has in billions of years. He looks for a target, finds nothing but the bare riverbed quickly flooding to fill the void.

The khat geysers up behind him, grabs his leg, and wrenches him into the water. The Cloak of Levitation has enough time to flip him face up before a heavy paw pins it down. Eyes stinging, heart hammering, Strange fends off the khat’s snapping jaws with novas in his palms. It takes all his training to anticipate where the teeth will be, vision obscured by plumes of bubbles, and not lose a limb.

Claws curl in his suit and drag him through the brine. His head connects with a tree root and all of reality goes sideways. His breath whooshes free, and sour liquid fills his throat.

The demon hauls him out, shoves him against a tree. Three blurry khats grin in Stephen’s eyes. Dozens of fangs.

“The gift is all three,” it says, “Your heart, humanity, and soul. Why were we ever warned about you? You’re nothing.”

It opens its mouth.

LEAVE HIM ALONE!

Stephen shakes water and blood from his eyes. The khat is frozen save its eyes, which widen in shock. Two voices erupt from its gullet. One, higher-pitched, screeches an incoherent string of profanity.

By the hoary hosts of Hoggoth, the other cries, I demand you let him go!

If he squints, Strange can see two ribbons in the khat’s belly. One yellow-green and red, the other gray and blue.

“What have you done,” the demon barks, “What have you done to me!?”

The claws pry open. Stephen beats a hasty retreat, flying to the unfinished portal. As he works to complete it, something moves at his feet. The grass scuttles bits and pieces of shattered human along pathways only it knows. He reaches down, grabs a fragment, and rage flows through him hot enough to make his skin glow, heat radiating from him in convection circles.

The khat breaks free of the parasites’ control, smashing its head against the tree for good measure. Screaming, it leaps for him. Strange sidesteps into another world -- home -- closes the portal, and waits until his ears stop ringing.

His anger he keeps. He storms through castle halls, eager to strike while the iron is hot.

- - -

Doom must really try this relaxation thing more often. It isn’t bad. Balcony doors open, letting in sunshine and a floral breeze, he reclines in his seat, sips his tea, and listens to the vinyl spinning on the antique phonograph.

I’m coming down, coming down like a monkey, but it’s all right Like a load on your back that you can’t see, oooh but it’s all right

The song has been in his head for months. It’s nice to hear it in the open. Doom smiles. Stephen has good taste in music.

“Bastard!”

The chair spins around and Doom is confronted by a feral magician. Strange notes the king’s simple garb: no steel in sight, just a cotton shirt and pants. He aims for Victor’s face but his quaking hands botch the throw. It bounces off his chest and lands in his teacup. “You’re not white!”

Doom looks at his tea. The blue eye in the tea looks back. “About time someone noticed,” he deadpans, extracting the orb by its optic nerve and setting it on a napkin.

The chair bucks like a bronco and Victor spills out. Stephen catches him with magic, hangs him in the air. The cup breaks into a thousand pieces and the king’s disappointed frown makes Strange want to throttle him. “Who was in the Doombot?”

“A nuclear engineer working on the CMNS reactor.” Doom sounds bored. “He tweeted about the parasite-induced euphoria I experienced. Called it an episode. Implications of weakness are illegal. Justice -- and the parasites -- were served. Two birds with one stone.”

“You killed a man for a tweet.”

“Whatever creature you encountered in the garden slew him, not I.”

Stephen drops him, relishing Victor’s grunt as a shard of teacup cuts his foot. It’s a slimy pleasure, and his face contracts. “Bastard. There isn’t an ounce of goodness in you.”

The king pulls the porcelain out of his flesh and points the bloodied end of it. “I have my ways just as you have yours. Until you grasp this concept, we shall always be at odds.”

“Be at odds? I saved your life!”

Doom brushes back his hair. Black stitches stretch from one ear across his head to the other. “You scarred me.”

They’re on thin ice. Strange dials back his fury, fists clenched. Monstrous tyrant or not, Victor is recovering from brain surgery. “You had a worm in your head.”

Tossing the shard aside, Doom sinks back in the chair in a position Stephen calls the regal slouch. “The sentence for weakness implications is community service. The engineer served his community. The sentence for injury to the royal person is death.” A scowl darkens his face. “I have half a mind to not let you leave this room alive.”

The sorcerer shuts his eyes.

“However.” Doom thinks, picking his words. “The extraneous circumstances surrounding the crime cannot be ignored. A different punishment is called for. It shall be made at a later time.” He draws a holographic display before him. A tigress pants in her den, lozenges squirming at her belly. “Three cubs were born at the Latverian Zoo this morning.” He looks at Stephen. “I find myself preoccupied with some wildlife conservation of my own.”

The sigh comes from the bottom of his heart. One day Victor will come out and thank him. Today is not that day. It will have to do. Strange rubs his eyes. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Speak.”

“Exile. A break. Another two months, or two years, or two hundred years. I’m not picky. I just don’t want to see you for a while.”

Doom looks back at the panel. “Your suggestion carries weight. So be it. Begone.”

That’s that. Another story concluded. Feeling empty, feeling light, Stephen turns to go.

“Strange.”

Fuck, so close. The sorcerer looks over his shoulder. “What?”

“When next we sojourn, for Doom knows we shall--” Victor’s lip turns up, the smallest hint of a smirk. “--I shall pick our destination.”

#doomstrange #doctor doom #doctor strange #victor von doom #stephen strange #rawbi's writes #commission a small bird

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

The saga of the absolute shitshow which is my life, continues (personal rant)

In 2016, we had a tiny tiny fire from not having cleaned the exhaust fan in the kitchen. Basically it was so dusty it over heated and caught fire. I put the fire out, it was barely in the ceiling for longer than a few seconds because the cover of the fan melted through the whole lot fell out.

At the time we were told it was worth getting it checked because it was technically an electrical fire.

Fast forward 3 years.

We got a letter at the start of the year about having an electrical audit conducted... and promptly misplaced the letter. We haven't used the socket since the fire, kind of forgot about it all.

Two and a bit weeks ago

The guy from the power supplier turns up and tells me I need to have this audit done or I'll get fined. I'm like, ok. Will arrange. Went ahead and arranged. He said there were a ton of problems, but he's going to email through the issues so we can figure out a plan of attack.

Week and half ago. Same day as the fires here.

I get a call from the shire council, y' all American's have counties. We have shires. I miss the call and woman at the council leaves a message saying call me back about your property. I think she's probably calling because we were in the evac red spot.

No.

She's calling because a complaint was lodged to the council over the condition of our house. She isn't legally allowed to say who, but it was the electrician who conducted the audit.

He's complained to the shire our house basically needs to be condemned. He's ticked

Rubbish -

My mother is a hoarder. It's not bags of domestic rubbish. It's boxes of packed things from when my grandmother passed and when we moved in 6 years ago. There are small piles of "rubbish" which are stacks of clothes or papers because there's no home for them yet, or I'm sorting them out. All exits are open other than the laundry where the door sometimes randomly swings open, so there's a cupboard against the bottom of it, and the door with the cat run. There are still 3 door exists out the house.

To me, if you're reporting rubbish, you're reporting piled up scraps and rubbish across the floors. Unclean floors, bags of food rotten rubbish and filth everywhere. Not boxes of stuff with mostly clear floors. It's like controlled chaos.

Mould -

Apparently we have mould in the ceiling. Yeah. We know. We can't afford the hundred odd thousand to get it removed from the whole house so we treat as it appears.

Illegal electrical things -

The older owners bodged things. Bodged things spectacularly. Things you couldn't see to begin with because they covered it. We were told the extension shouldn't have been built where it was and a builder said it didn't conform to any code they knew for the state.

Our roof has a safety hazard silver insulation that was installed wrong across Australia, due to the government. It has the potential to be conductive as it was installed wrong

He's listed small dog and cat in a cage outside.

The woman from the shire was calling me to ask what all of this meant because she had no clue. We had no clue because he skipped us out of this, and went straight to lodging his complaint. How are we supposed to fix anything if we don't know what the fuck is wrong? I'm not a builder or an electrician. However. If all this electrics and insulation shit was illegal to begin with. Why did the house pass TWO building inspections before sale!???!! All he had to was pop his head up in the ceiling and he was like this all has to go.

Small dog and cat. Nina pees when she's excited. That was literally the only thing I could think of. We have four cats so we have three litter trays.

Now. Today. About an hour ago.

The ranger turns up at my front door.

We've had a complaint lodged to the health department that was passed on. Well. To the shire, who passed it onto the health department and then onto the ranger. It was over the condition of the small dog (Nina) and the cat on the property. Please note I want to kill the electrician by this point, because again I've been blindsided. The ranger is super nice and I'm not rude because the poor man just has a job to do. Basically my cats aren't registered and I wasn't going to get them registered because they're all indoor and never ever go out. That is why we have "the cage outdoors", it's a cat run connected to the side door in my bedroom, I still have another door to my room that leads outside because it's kind of an extension. Anyways. He's pleasantly surprised because surprise surprise, all my cats are healthy , sterilised and microchipped. Only Haruka isn't microchipped, so I have to organise that before I register her. Normally I have my cats microchipped and sterilised at the same time. They're all happy having the run of the house.

Seriously. Pissed. If you're going to complain and cause this rippled affect, you could at least respond to a damn email, or you know, send me your fucking report. We're on government payments. I buy my shit second hand, only when I can afford it. I don't splurge on merch every pay. I look after my mum because her anxiety and health issues are a ball unfun times. This house was supposed to be something good for us. A place to call home. Not a place that feeds depression, anxiety and makes you feel suicidal from the stress of it.

So. In the other part of the saga, my car has been of the road for about a year now. I don't have my licence because basically I have high anxiety and my car is only the car I feel really comfortable driving. Plus, the gear shift in mums manual is way too close... gimme the old school loose H. The money I finally saved up for her now has to go on the house. I love my car. She's my baby. And I'm being constantly pressured to sell her. With the condition she's in, I'll only get about $500 from the wreckers. No ones gonna buy her as she sits, because we don't know how much work she needs.

Your author is emotional wreck

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insertclassyusernamehere · 5 years

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True Life: I worked for a Sociopath

In early 2013, I started a journey with a company that I loved. I was hired on as a sales associate by a strong, powerful and amazing store manager who literally taught me everything I know. She promoted me 6 months in to a lower level management role, and when she got an offer to move onto bigger things in the company, she helped push me into a fulltime management role. Her assistant manager at the time ultimately ended up filling her position as she left, and to be honest, I had no idea what I was in for. I hadn't worked too much with this particular manager prior, and didn't have much of a real raport with her at all. I truly was excited about the change, and everything felt like a new beginning. The first year was pretty rocky in general, but we just chalked it up to us all being new in our roles, and pushed through it until we got onto a schedule. The assistant manager at the time and I were incredibly close, and it was pretty clear to me at the time that she was being bullied and demonized by our store manager, but I thought maybe it was just some kind of personal bad blood between them. The store manager (we will call her Sarah) would talk to associates and other managers behind her back, calling her names, and pointing her fingers at her for anything going awry in the store. Finally, our ASM snapped, and left the company. Sarah told us all that things would be SO Much better without her there "creating hostility". Most of us knew that the former ASM wasn't the problem.

With the separation of our ASM, I was then ushered into the role as a replacement. I was excited. I was excited about a raise, about more responsibility and the growth that I had worked SO hard for. To give you just a little information on my character: I'm a fiery personality, but I'm also incredibly compassionate. I'm a giant mama bear, and I looked at all my employees as my little cubs. With that being said, I was always doing everything with theirs and the stores' best interest in mind. Now at this time, Sarah had A LOT of personal stuff going on. She always did, to be honest. The personal shit never stopped. But, unlike most people who put themselves in a store management position, she used her power to work everything in HER favor so it didn't conflict with her super dramatic life. This meant breaking every rule along the way. She scheduled herself only opening shifts, on a consistent schedule. Every single Sunday off. And when any small thing happened in her life, she just wouldn't show up to her shifts. She would expect me to come in on my days off to cover her shifts on a monthly basis. She made me work doubles covering her shifts more than a few times. If you were not flexible with her, she would tell you that you just needed to take one for the team and would punish you with a cold attitude and talk shit about you behind your back to the rest of the staff. She bullied everyone in the store, but especially the management team. On the other hand, if you were sick and tried to call out... she'd refuse to cover your shift and make you come in anyways. When she wouldn't come in for a scheduled shift, she would just code in PTO for herself and move on with her day. When she was there, she didnt do anything at all. One time she passed out in the back room from pills while our sales lead was on the floor by herself. As fulltime managers we were assigned DORs (departments of responsibility). There was Operations, Talent and Merchandising and they were split between the 3 fulltime managers. My last year with the company, I was working 2 of the 3 while Sarah was doing none. I took more than half of the conference calls. I planned our entire fiscal year. I made ever schedule, did every interview and every new hire onboarding. I was training our keyholder in the merch DOR. When I say that I was literally running a 1.6 million dollar store with no help from my SM, while only making $13hr I AM NOT KIDDING. All the while, anytime I tried to initiate positive change, and enforce standards I was immediately shot down and told "I am not the Store Manger". So essentially - we were failing. At this point I learned that on top of everything I was doing, she was telling everyone else in the store than I was a horrible manager and did nothing. She called me names to people, and even lied to them about crazy shit she claims I did. When I confronted her, she would tell me it never happened. All our employees were quitting left and right because she was literally crazy. She would yell at them on the sales floor and make them cry, force them to stay past their scheduled shifts and the few times she did make the schedule she would schedule them outside of their availability and fuck us over with coverage on the weekend. She manipulated every single person on staff. I left work crying every day.

Now here's where things got fucking psychotic. My keyholder and I had to drive to Tampa for a training certification class, and one thing led to another that ended with us spilling only a small portion of the crazy shit going on in our store. The manager training us empowered us to go to our DM. I spent the night writing and incredibly detailed list of everything she had been doing with help of the rest of the store staff and management team. The next day I called our DM and she was floored. She told me that she was going through HR to get it figured out (this was in august) and while she got in a small amount of "trouble"for a few small things, Sarah was still our store manager and she was bullying us worse than ever. Sarah immediately assumed that I was the one that got her in trouble (even though every single person on staff contributed) and she took it out on me in the worst ways. She denied all of my request offs and had my working every single weekend. Things hit rock bottom after Hurricane Irma hit us on October 2018. We had an emergency close the day before the hurricane touched down because our entire staff was living in evacuation zones and were running out of the state to stay safe from the storm. The night we closed it was me, Sarah and an associate who we will call Ashley. Things were totally normal, low stress and went fairly smoothly. When we arrived back after the storm everything seemed normal. Another week passed, and my husband and I were driving down south to his parents house when I received a call from my DM. In this call she Informed me that my CRAZY BITCH SM told her that on the night of the emergency closing I told her that if we didn't close the store I was going to KILL HER AND HER FAMILY.

WHAT THE FUCK.

She also made the mistake of telling the DM that the associate was a witness. And the DM told her that she needed to have a conversation with me and ask me why I said that. The DM (thankfully) warned me that this conversation might happen, but neither of us thought this bitch was crazy enough to actually lie about something so serious that she claims I said TO MY FACE.

BOY WERE WE WRONG!

She called out of her next shift with me, but then proceeded to come in before hours at 8:30 AM as I was opening the systems, cornered me alone in the stock room, and this bitch looks at me and says "Kianna, do you remember saying anything inappropriate to me during the emergency close?"

Me: No...

Her: Nothing... at all?

Me: Nope. Nothing at all, why?

Her *yelling*: SO YOU DONT REMEMBER THREATENING TO KILL ME AND MY FAMILY??!

ME*completely shocked that she literally said it*: No, Sarah. Seriously? We both know I would never say something like that. I literally dont even use that kind of language jokingly.

Her: Just admit you said it and apologize.

Me: I'm not going to admit to something I didnt say.

Her: Ashley was working she heard you!

Me: Oh really? Ashley happens to be my opener. Let's ask her! If she heard me say that, I will apologize and just accept that I somehow said this horrible thing and blocked it out.

Her *hesitantly*: oh... okay.

When Ashley arrived, we sat her down and Sarah asked her the same uncomfortable question. "Do you remember Kianna saying something incredibly inappropriate and threatening the night we emergency closed?"

Ashley: Uhh... no?

Sarah: So you don't remember her threatening my family's life?

Ashley: UHM, DEFINITELY NOT?!

Sarah: UGH, WELL I HOPE YOU ARE HAPPY, ASHLEY, THAT SINCE YOU WON'T ADMIT THAT SHE THREATENED ME THAT I WILL LOOK LIKE A LIAR TO MY BOSS!

Turns out she then tried to groom Ashley into lying for her by offering her a raise if she lied. Ashley told our DM this. SARAH WAS STILL OUR STORE MANAGER. By the end of October, 3 MONTHS AFTER TURNING HER IN, I was done waiting. I turned in my notice, found a better paying job and left that toxic situation. I left because I felt unsafe in my work environment and despite all my evidence and her threats and her literally lying in hopes to get me fired and arrested I WAS STILL BEING FORCED TO WORK WITH HER.

The day I turned in my notice, I found out I was pregnant with my son. Leaving that toxic environment was the best decision I ever made. KNOW YOUR WORTH, GUYS.

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starcitizenprivateer · 5 years

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Star Citizen Monthly Report: February 2019

February saw Cloud Imperium devs around the world working hard to deliver the incredible content for the soon-to-be-released Alpha 3.5 patch. Progress was made everywhere, from locations like ArcCorp to the gameplay developments afforded by the New Flight Model. Read on for the full lowdown from February’s global workload.

Star Citizen Monthly Report: February 2019

AI – Character

February’s roundup starts with the AI Team, who made improvements to the existing character collision avoidance system. The changes began with adjustments to the smooth locomotion path, with the data now coming from the collision avoidance calculation to make sure the character has enough free space.

Time was spent generalizing the options a vendor can use so that designers no longer have to write them into the behaviors. Instead, the correct options are automatically selected based on the environment and (eventually) from the shop services.

They’re also restricting combat behavior to allow better scalability when adding new tactics and are investigating some of the bugs found in the Alpha 3.4 release.

AI – Ships

Throughout February, the AI Team improved various aspects of dogfighting gameplay, including evasive maneuvers. Now, when an AI pilot has an enemy on its tail, it will try to utilize different break-aways with increasing and varied angles. It will also try to keep momentum and chain together attack maneuvers. To achieve this, the team exposed new ‘SmoothTurning’ subsumption tasks to the behavior logic.

When detecting enemy fire, AI pilots will utilize evasive maneuvers to create a diversion.

They also implemented automatic incoming/outgoing ship traffic over planetary landing areas. They are currently generalizing ship behaviors to enable the designers to easily set up traffic on multiple cities, capital ships, and so on.

Animation

Last month, Animation provided the remaining animation sets for previous characters already found in the Persistent Universe (PU), including Hurston, Battaglia, and Pacheco. They also finished off a new batch of animations for the ship dealer. Work continues on animations for future yet-to-be-announced characters too, which includes getting approval for the initial poses and animations before going forward with the final clean-up.

American Sign Language (ASL) emotes are being added to the game and are currently being improved with the addition of facial animations.

Finally, Animation is currently syncing with Cinematics for a few interesting segments that backers will get to enjoy soon…

Art – Tech

Tech Art invested significant effort into optimizing rig assets so that they work better with the facial runtime rig logic and the ‘look at’ and ‘mocap’ re-direction components. Since eye contact is one of the fundamental means of human communication, any error or tiny deviation can cause the ‘uncanny valley’ effect and immediately break immersion.

“If the eyes of an actor converge just slightly too much, they appear cross-eyed. However, if they don’t converge enough, they appear to look through you, as if distracted. If the eyelids occlude the character’s iris just a little too much, which, depending on the distance, could amount to just 2-3 pixels vertically, they look sleepy or bored. Conversely, if they expose too much of the cornea, they appear more alert, surprised, or outright creepy.”

So, the alignment of the virtual skeleton’s eye joints with respect to the eyeball and eyelid geometry is of utmost importance. Likewise, the ‘look-at’ system needs to control all relevant rig parameters and corrective blendshapes (not just the rotation of the eyeballs themselves) to create truly-believable runtime re-directions of the mocap animations.

Alongside facial work, the team completed several weapons-related tasks, such as fixing offsets during reload animations and locomotion issues for the pistol set. They also completed R&D related to playing animations in sync with character usables within cinematic scenes and helped Design to unify the character tags in Mannequin.

Art – Environment

Predictably, the Environment Team is racing towards the completion of ArcCorp and Area 18 – they’re currently working with and implementing the custom advertising provided by the UI department. The planet itself is in the final art stage and now includes skyscrapers rising above the no-fly zone to provide the player with landing opportunities and interesting buildings to fly around.

Concurrently, the ‘Hi-Tech’ common elements are steadily progressing, with the transit, habitation, and security areas all moving to the art pass stage. Players will see these common elements (alongside garages and hangars) when they’re added to microTech’s landing zone, New Babbage.

The new transit connection between Lorville’s Teasa spaceport and the Central Business District (CBD) is almost ready for travellers. This route will allow players to move directly between the two locations and bypass L19, cutting travel time for high-end shoppers.

Work on organics is ongoing, as are improvements to planet tech, with the artists hard at work creating a library of exotic-looking flora to fill the biomes of New Babbage with. Players can see it for themselves towards the end of the year.

The community can also look forward to upcoming information on the early work the team has done on procedural caves.

Audio

Both the Audio Code Team and the sound designers finished their work on the new camera-shake and ship-vibration systems. Now, when an engine kicks in, the ship shakes and hums. This also extends to the player, with events like a ship powering up causing minor camera shake.

The sound designers also added new sound samples to a range of ships as part of the rollout of the New Flight Model. By adding ‘one-shot’ samples to each of the various thrusters, they brought out more complexity in the sounds heard during flight.

The Audio Team spent the majority of the month creating the sounds of Area 18. Due to the melting pot of ideas and themes present in the new area, the sound designers tested new methods to bring out the unique atmosphere. Additionally, they created the sound profiles and samples for the Gemini S71 assault rifle and Kastak Arms CODA pistol, both of which will appear in the PU and SQ42.

Currently, the Audio Code Team is working towards an updated tool that better allows the sound designers to implement created assets in-engine whilst simultaneously testing how they sound.

Backend Services

Backend Services continued to lay the foundation for the new diffusion network to help scalability for the backend structure of the game. Emphasis is on ensuring the Dedicated Game Servers (DGS) correctly connect to the new diffusion services, particularly the variable, leaderboard, and account services.

February marked the near-end of work on the new Item Cache Service (a massive portion of the backend has now turned micro-service) and began the end-point between DGS and this service, too. As work is completed on the new diffusion services, testing will ensure a smooth transition to the new network.

Support was also added for subsumption services to read directly into the DataCore P4k system for increased efficiency and unification.

With the approaching publish of Alpha 3.5, Backend Services began work on logistics, syncing closely with DevOps to ensure that new services are up and running correctly while maintaining legacy services where necessary.

Community

The team celebrated Valentine’s Day with community-made cards and limited-time ship offers, including Anvil’s F7C-M Heartseeker – a special version of the Super Hornet shooting straight for the heart. During the Be my Valentine greeting card contest, most Citizens got creative with their favorite image editing software, though some went old-school with scissors and crayons to create fantastic crafts to share their love across the galaxy.

Also this month, Argo Astronautics released their latest addition to the ‘verse, the SRV. The ‘Standard Recovery Vehicle’ is built for tugging ships, ground vehicles, and massive cargo containers through the stars using its integrated tractor tech. If you’re looking for more information about this rough and rugged ship, head to the Q&A that answers questions voted-on by the community. As a bonus, Shipmaster General John Crewe stopped by Reverse the Verse LIVE for some in-depth tug-talk.

In the February issue of Jump Point (our subscriber-exclusive magazine), Ben Lesnick took a detailed dive into the ARGO SRV’s design process and went on a worker’s tour of Hurston. The Narrative Team also introduced us to the Human holiday Stella Fortuna and shed light on the history of the revered Rust Society.

A major update to the Star Citizen roadmap gave a look at what’s coming to the Persistent Universe in 2019 and what can be expected in upcoming releases.

Released in January, but worthy of another mention, is the official Star Citizen Fankit, which was put together to help all of you share your enthusiasm and engagement. Star Citizen lives by the support it receives from the community, so take a look at this treasure trove of assets and get creating!

The team is also excited to announce that our physical merchandise will soon be receiving a well-deserved face-lift. Having received a lot of feedback over the years, it’s clear that Citizens are passionate about merch and to make the store experience the best it can be, your input was needed. Thanks to everyone who contributed feedback to our thread on Spectrum!

Content – Characters

The Character Team revisited the hair development pipeline in February. With the help of the Graphics Team, they developed new tools and shader tech to improve the realism of hair while maintaining quality and performance. More work went into mission-giver Pacheco, including textures and rigging, with her hairstyle being used to trial the new hair pipeline. Work continues on the assets required for DNA implementation and the female player character, while refinement of the Xi’an concept is making great progress.

Design

Throughout February, Design focused on implementing Area 18’s shops, NPCs, and usables. Last month marked the end of implementation, with March being used for polish to ensure a believable and immersive experience upon release. The team also gained a new member to help with mission implementation and improvement, who is currently setting their sights on the Emergency Communication Network (ECN) mission set.

Regarding the economy, the US Design Team worked with their UK counterparts on the objective criteria and value of objects in-game, laying down the track for acquiring item properties and their values. A system was built to help create an abstract representation, which is both robust and modular enough to allow easy adjustment in the future when the details are finalized.

DevOps

DevOps had a busy month working on the build system and pipeline that supports feature stream development. After several long nights, they rolled out the upgrades and have been happy with the results so far – internal systems are running smoothly without errors and each evolution improves efficiency and storage consumption.

They’re now attempting to further compress existing data which, when multiplied by hundreds of thousands of individual files, will make a real impact to the dev’s daily development efforts.

Engineering

February saw the Engine Team spend time on general Alpha 3.5 support, such as profiling, optimization, and bug fixing. They also improved the instance system used in compute skinning and refactored it on the CPU and shader for better maintainability, created a budget-based output-buffer system for skinning results (so they only have to skin once per frame), made more tangent reconstruction optimizations, and worked on wrap-deformation using the color stream.

Basic HDR display support was added to the editor, as was a new hue-preserving display mapping curve suitable for HDR display output. The team provided material layer support for planet tech v4 and continued to improve character hair, which included initial hair mask, support for edge masking, and pixel depth offset. Game physics is progressing with Projectile Manager 2.0, as well as optimizations to wrapped grids and state updates. Support was added for ocean Fast Fourier Transform (FFT) wave generation to physics buoyancy calculations, as well as exposed optimized terrain meshes.

A major system initialization clean-up was completed as part of an initiative to share core engine functionality with PU services, work began on the lockless job manager (a complete overhaul for faster response in high-load scenarios), and a new load time profiler was created. The team are currently wrapping up the ‘ImGUI’ integration and introducing a temporary allocator for more efficiency when containers are used on stack.

They made the switch to the Clang 6 compiler to build Linux targets (including compilation cleanup of the entire code base) and plan to switch to the latest stable release (Clang 8.x) in the near future.

Finally, they finished a ‘create compile time’ analysis tool (utilizing new Visual C++ front and backend profiler flags) to gather, condense, and visualize reasons for slow compile and link times. As a result, various improvements have already been submitted and further action-items defined.

Features – Gameplay

A large portion of Gameplay Feature’s month was dedicated to implementing the new DNA feature into the character customizer. In addition, the team was responsible for creating and setting up the user interface (UI) and accommodating the female playable character, both of which are scheduled for Alpha 3.5.

Another major focus was on video streaming for comms calls, which consisted of a refactor of the comms component to utilize the voice service call mechanism. Research was made into the VP9 streaming format and video streaming improvements were completed that will be rolled out in the upcoming release.

Lastly, support was given to the US-based Vehicle Features Team, with updates to the turret sensitivity HUD, gimbal assist UI, and the shopping service entity registration.

Features – Vehicles

Gimbal Assist and its related HUD improvements were finalized and polished, allowing for better balancing of this new weapon control scheme. Turrets were also improved, as the team added a HUD and keybinds for input sensitivity, implemented adjustable speeds for gimbal target movement based on proximity to center aim, and fixed bugs with snapping and erratic movement.

A lot of work went into scanning improvements, which included adjusting the area for navpoint scanning, enabling use of the navpoint hierarchy, and adding a Boolean to opt into the scanning data. This endeavor also covered adjustments to make scanning more involving by setting up AI turrets to generate signatures and be scannable and adding specific icons for scanned/unscanned targets. Ping and blob were implemented to display on the radar too, including focus angle and ping fire.

To round out the month, they continuing to make item port tech optimizations, developed tech for utilizing geometry component tags in the paint system, and fixed a handful of crash bugs.

Graphics

Last month, the Graphics Team’s work on the PU was spread between several smaller tasks. There were many shader requests from the artists, such as adding new features to the hard surface shader and ISO support for decals in the forward rendering pipeline.

The team also continued with the CPU optimizations from last month. This included a 3x performance saving on the cost of building per-instance data buffers for the GPU and better support for the depth pre-pass to help occlude hidden parts of the frame with less CPU overheads.

To help the artists optimize their content, the team worked on an improved render-debugging tool that reports how many draw instructions (draw-call) a particular object requires along with a breakdown of why each instruction was needed. Once complete, this will allow the artists to dig into their material and mesh setups to save valuable CPU time.

Level Design

The Level Design Team soldiered on with ArcCorp’s Area 18, bringing the designer whitebox up to greybox. They began planning the modular space stations that will be built this year too, including looking at the libraries, rooms, and content that goes into them. The procedural tool is also now at a stage where they can slowly start ramping up the modular station production.

Live Design

The Live Team refactored existing missions to make them scalable to make more content available in the planetary system (other than Crusader). Significant progress was made on a new drug-stealing mission for Twitch Pacheco, as well as a BlackJack Security counter-mission that tasks less morally-corrupt players with destroying the stash.

Another focus was on implementing a variety of encounters with security forces and bounty hunters when the player holds a high crime stat.

As well as practical work, time was taken to define the next tier of many aspects of the law system, such as punishment, paying fines, bounty hunting, and so on.

Lighting

Last month, the Lighting Team focused on developing the look of Area 18. Lighting Area 18 is a mixture of clean-up work from the previous versions to match new standards and lighting the new exterior layout to a series of targets set by the Art Director. The team is working closely with the Environment Art and VFX teams to ensure that new advertising assets and visual effects ‘pop’ from the environment and provide interesting and varied visuals.

Narrative

Working closely with the Environment Art and Mission Design teams, February saw the Narrative Team further fleshing out of lore relating to ArcCorp and its moons. From new mission giver contract text to the catchy slogans gracing Area 18’s numerous billboards, a lot of additional lore was created to bring these locations to life.

Additionally, expanded wildline sets for security pilots, bounty hunters, and combat assist pilots were scripted and recorded. The AI and Mission teams will use these sets to begin prototyping and testing out new gameplay for inclusion in future builds.

Also, the Narrative Team made progress on generating the specific text needed for on-screen mission objectives. Currently, this is placeholder text from the designers who worked on levels, but moving forward, the hope is to begin using the proper in-lore objectives.

Player Relations

The Player Relations Team was busy preparing for Alpha 3.5 (including getting ready to test the New Flight Model) as well as boxing off the work created over the holiday period.

“As always, we’d like to point all players to our growing Knowledge Base, which now has 120+ articles and saw almost 450,000 visitors this month! We will continue to grow this by adding more ‘How To’ articles, patch notes, and live service notifications there as well as on Spectrum.”

Props

February saw headway into Area 18’s props: the core street furniture is now in and the team has moved onto the dressing pass, adding in new assets to give life to the streets, alleyways, and landing zone.

As the month closed out, the team jumped into release mode to get a head start squashing bugs and generally tightening up the upcoming release.

Things ramped up on the publishing side in February as the team prepared Alpha 3.5 for the Evocati and PTU. Testing continues on the New Flight Model and other systems as they come online, such as the new weapons, ships, and locations. QA leadership continues to train the newer testers and improve the overall testing process.

The AI Feature Team kept the Frankfurt-based QA testers busy with new features, such as the improved avoidance system and new break-away maneuvers. Testing mainly consists of making sure they’re working as intended, as well as noting visible improvements to what was already in place (in the case of the avoidance system). Combat AI received perception updates which were tested by QA to address issues where the FPS AI would not recognize the player being present in their vicinity.

On the backend, changes to the subsumption visualizer are being tested to ensure no new issues have been introduced in preparation for their full integration into the editor. Testing for ArcCorp and Area 18 is currently underway too.

The Universe Team discovered that mining entities were not appearing in the client due to discrepancies in how they were spawned in the server. This was tracked down and fixed, though testing will continue to make sure it’s working as intended.

Ships

The Vehicle Content Team wrapped up the MISC Reliant Mako, Tana, and Sen variants for Alpha 3.5. They’re now in testing with QA who are addressing bugs before the vehicles go live. The designers and tech artists have been busy with the Origin 300i, which will reach QA for testing in the near future.

Back in the UK, the team continued production on the 890 Jump, bringing more rooms into the final art stage from greybox (including the hangar area). The Carrack is heading towards a greybox-complete state and select areas are being polished for review.

Development continues on the Banu Defender which is utilizing a new style of production that caters to its organic art style. ZBrush is being used to sculpt the interior before transferring the high-density model to 3ds Max, where it is then rebuilt (low-poly) for the game engine. A large portion of the exterior greybox is complete and looking fantastic.

Last but by no means least, the interior updates to the Vanguard wrapped up with essentially the entire area from the cockpit seat backwards being completely redone. This is more than was initially anticipated, but the team feels that it’s worth it. Now that the interior rework has been finalized and the framework for the variants agreed upon, the Ship Team can start on the exterior changes to accommodate them and continue with the variant-specific items.

System Design

The System Design Team is working on improving and upgrading the no-fly zones used across ArcCorp. Since the existing system now needs to support an entire planet, it has proven quite a challenge.

For social AI, the team’s working on unifying vendor behaviors and making sure they’re built in a modular fashion. For example, the team can easily graft new actions onto the base behavior of a shop keeper to allow them to pick up objects, give them to the player, and interact with things on the counter without having to build new ones from scratch.

As with social AI, the team focused on restructuring FPS AI behaviors to make them more modular, with the goal to make it easier to implement specific chunks of logic. For mining, they added new mineable rocks on ArcCorp’s moons. Wala in particular will have a new type of rock that fits better with the crystalline formations available on the moon.

Finally for System Design, AI traffic over Area 18 is currently being developed. The team’s starting small, with a few ships landing and taking off around the spaceport, but they’re also investigating ways to expand it while being mindful of performance.

Turbulent

RSI Platform: On February 14th, Turbulent supported the announcement of a new flyable variant of the Super Hornet, the F7C-M Heartseeker. They also made major updates to the CMS backend which required all hands on deck.

Services: This month’s game service work was focused around developing support for transporting video streams over the comms channels. This will allow the streaming of a user’s face/in-game texture to another player outside of the bind culling bubble, enabling in-game video calls over wider distances. This method also enables the transmission of in-game video streams to web clients.

Turbulent spent considerable time standardizing services to enable them to run within a new local development environment. This will allow the entire Star Citizen universe’s services to run locally on dev systems to develop and iterate with the entire stack.

The Turbulent Services Team also began work on an administration interface for game designers and game operators to display real-time information about the state of the universe. This application can display information about groups, lobbies, and voice channels along with details of online players, quantum routes, and probability volumes.

As in January, UI supported the Environment Team with in-fiction advertising and branding for Area 18, including animation and hologram textures. They also made headway on the 3D area map using the concepts shown last month as visual targets. Finally, they began working out how to bring the rental functionality from the Arena Commander frontend to in-game consoles in Area 18.

VFX

The VFX Team updated the existing particle lighting system to a more modern system. The previous version was based on tessellation, which increased the rendering cost and had limitations on shadow resolution. The new one is a global change that will remove the need for tessellation and improve shadow receiving for crisper, smoother shadows. ArcCorp’s Lyria and Wala will be the first moons to use this new particle lighting system when it’s ready for deployment. It will help the particles integrate into the moons more realistically and address issues when the particles have long shadows going through them, such as during sunrise and sunset.

They also continued to iterate on thruster damage effects and began rolling it out to all ships.

Several new weapon effects were worked on, including a new ballistic hand cannon and ballistic assault rifle. They also carried out extensive visual exploration for the new Tachyon energy weapon class.

Finally, significant time was invested in improving the VFX editor’s UI layout and functionality. Although not as glamorous as planet dressing and effects, improving the quality-of-life for artists is important and helps them to work faster too.

Weapons

The Weapon Art Team completed the Gemini S71, Kastak Arms Coda, Banu Singe Tachyon cannons, Gallenson Tactical ballistic cannon reworks, and five variants of the Aegis Vanguard nose guns.

Conclusion

WE’LL SEE YOU NEXT MONTH…

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#star citizen #squadron 42

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odogaronfang · 5 years

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Shadow and Blue with number 11 lmao

11. “I bet you 50 bucks you can’t drink this entire thing of hot sauce.”

Going out to lunch together with no one else to supervise is probably a bad idea. They acknowledge this when Valensuela brings it up. They do it anyway.

“So who’s paying,” Blue asks as they walk in, “‘Cause I sure don’t want to.”

“Dude, you just got a job and you just got paid, why are you being stingy?”

“Because I, unlike you, have plans, and I need to save all the money I can. You just beg all your money off Ms. White and then spend it on stupid stuff.”

“My merch isn’t stupid-”

“Yes it is and you know it is. You buy it on impulse and then just dump it all over your room wherever you can find space. Your room’s a mess and there isn’t an inch of room anywhere and it’s disgusting. And then you wonder why you get your laptop taken away.”

“I buy it because it’s important to me!”

“If it were important then you’d find a good place to keep it all where it wouldn’t get damaged in clutter landslides.”

Shadow wants to retort but can’t, both because he has no good comeback and also because the maître d’ is standing in front of them looking between them expectantly, waiting for their names.

“Table for two,” Blue says, “For Blue. A booth if you can.”

“Certainly,” She says, with a little half-smile that suggests that she’s thinking something that probably isn’t true. “We have a party finishing up just now, if you’re willing to wait a few minutes.”

So they wait outside on one of the benches with their little plastic cups of fruit-infused water (too young to be offered alcohol while they wait, and probably too early in the day anyway). They’re out there for maybe fifteen minutes before the maître d’ comes back out, calls for Blue, party of two, and in they go.

She ushers them to a little out-of-the-way booth in the back- more of a half-booth, the other side of the table has only a regular chair, and Shadow takes the booth half before he can do anything about it- and she sets their menus down with a tolerant patience as they wrap up a thirty-second squabble over the booth seat.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” She says, smiles at them and departs, looking a little relieved as she goes.

The restaurant is crowded for the little family-run thing that it is. It isn’t surprising- Arcy’s Diner took off almost immediately after opening, thanks to a lot of family promotion and word-of-mouth advertising, and the food’s fantastic- but it’s a little irritating, especially since they’re family friends of the owner and still don’t seem to take much priority over the other customers (the riff-raff, as Zelda affectionately calls them).

So the wait for their food is long, of course, but it isn’t so bad at first, not until it reaches the twenty-minute mark and their little plastic cups are nothing but dregs and they haven’t even met their server yet.

“It’s taking forever,” Shadow gripes, and Blue has to agree. Maybe it’s only to be expected during the lunch rush, but he doesn’t have to like it.

“Should’ve brought a phone charger,” Blue laments. His battery is at 8% and Shadow’s has been dead since he broke the charging port yesterday. “There’s nothing to do.”

“Nothing? Not even, like, a kid’s coloring book we can draw stuff in?”

“Nope. Maybe we’re supposed to talk or something. Interact. Like those stupid signs outside of those restaurants.”

“No offense, but I’d rather drink that entire bottle of hot sauce than have a full conversation with you.”

“First of all offense taken. Second of all I dare you.”

“Huh?”

“The hot sauce. I’m calling your bluff. Drink the hot sauce and I won’t talk to you for a week.”

“For a whole bottle? Staying away from me for a year wouldn’t convince me.”

“I’ll throw in fifty bucks.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I bet you fifty bucks that you can’t drink that entire bottle. Fifty bucks and another meal somewhere.”

Shadow grins. “Okay! Alright, you’re on!” He reaches for the bottle of hot sauce and a napkin. “This is too easy. One little bottle and I get probably half your whole bank account.”

Blue ignores that, gets his phone out and opens his camera. “I get to record it.”

“Fine.”

Shadow is slow to unscrew the top of the bottle, and he brings the bottle to his nose and smells it and winces.

“You doing it or not?”

“Calm down, I’m doing it! You ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” He lifts the lip of the bottle to his mouth. “Bottoms up,” He says, warily, and tips it.

The first mouthful isn’t that bad. He likes spicy food- a little Tabasco isn’t a big deal. The second mouthful he starts to feel a little sting, but it isn’t anything he can’t handle. The third mouthful is bad, and the fourth is worse, and by the fifth (only half the bottle) he’s overwhelmed. He has to pause, stifles a cough into the crook of his elbow, and Blue grins, camera still on him.

“Giving up?”

“No,” Shadow chokes out through a throat like fire, and he chugs the rest of the bottle like it’s his ticket to Heaven, and with one tiny little sip to go he slams the bottle back on the table and keels over onto the careworn velour cushion of the booth.

Blue’s cracking up, manages to stop and save the video and then starts cackling, waves the waitress away when she comes with a tray of waters.

“Bastard,” Shadow wheezes, and Blue shakes his finger.

“That’s cheating, man.”

Shadow struggles upright, every breath a fresh agony and makes a feeble attempt at Blue’s wallet. “Pay up!” He hisses.

“Nah, dude, you didn’t finish it.” Blue holds up the bottle and swirls it around; that tiny little bit swishes against the stained glass, and Blue beams.

Shadow makes Blue pay for the meal and steals twenty dollars anyway and doesn’t speak to him for a week.

#my writing #blue link #shadow link #drabble meme #this was fun #shadows usually alright with spicy stuff but #he doesnt like the taste of hot sauce to begin with

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bigherosixfeels · 6 years

Text

Mr. Sparkles Loses His Sparkle REVIEW

SPOILERS BELOW

Mochi deserved to go viral I'm so proud of him.

The episode starts in the nerd lab where Hiro has made a functional ping-pong bot. Gogo is up against it, ready to beat the bot, but Fred storms in with alarming news. He shows the gang there's a factory on fire and they need to stop it from spreading any further. Their gear is apparently at Fred's, so they head over there, but the suits are not in their designated spot. Honey Lemon then remembers they left them at her and Gogo's apartment so they go there and suit up. By the time they arrive on scene, the fire department has showed up and the fire is out. Hiro realizes they need to figure out a better way to suit up.

The next morning in the cafe, Cass wants everyone to see Mochi's latest trick. Honey Lemon is ready to film this and Mochi slow claps. It's indeed adorable and Honey posts it online. Fred remembers that he has an extra ticket to Maximum Insane Obstacle Challenge. It's the number one online game show where contestants have to compete in, you guessed it, obstacle challenges that are insane to the max. Hiro is too busy working on their issue with suiting up to go. Wasabi claims he'll be busy organizing his organizer. Gogo makes it clear that there is nothing anyone can say that will make her want to go. Honey would go, but she's throwing another sticker party. Gogo, remembering the last sticker party (in which stickers are put literally everywhere in their apartment), Gogo agrees to go with Fred. She can't do another sticker party.

Later in the day, they're at the studio where the game show is held. Fred has on a raincoat poncho because their seats are in the 'maximum insane gross zone'. He only brought one poncho. The game show begins and the host is none other than Mr. Sparkles! I admit, he's good at his job. The sound of a chicken clucking goes off which means it's time to find out who the first contestant will be. An egg rolls its way to Mr. Sparkles and when he cracks it, he calls out the seat number revealed inside. The man in that seat is beyond excited to play the first challenge which is called Sushi Limbo. He has to dress as a piece of sushi and jump through huge chopsticks. If he gets caught by them, they'll dip him into soy sauce. The man starts out doing really well, but what looks to be the last pair of chopsticks gets a hold of him and he falls right into the sauce. Some sauce gets on Fred and Gogo, but don't worry; it's low sodium.

Next, a crying baby sound effect goes off and it's time to Feed The Baby! The goal is to squirt a bunch of milk into a hungry baby, but the baby is also not feeling well apparently. The next egg is cracked and Gogo's seat is the lucky number! She's not fond of the idea of feeding the baby or having to dress like a baby (that's the insane part). She doesn't want to look like an idiot in front of everyone, but Fred says not to worry about what others think and he came prepared to be humiliated. He's wearing nothing, but a diaper under that poncho. Gogo passes on being a contestant.

Meanwhile, Hiro has Baymax, Honey Lemon and Wasabi in an open field. Hiro wants to demo the long-ranged capabilities of their new suit delivery system. Currently, the suits are at Fred's, which is on the other side of the city. With a press of a button on his phone, Hiro has their super suits fly themselves across town. They arrive well, however, the suits place themselves on the wrong person. Hiro is wearing Wasabi's, Honey is wearing Baymax's, Baymax is wearing Hiro's and Wasabi is wearing Honey's. It's quite the sight to see. Hiro isn't sure why there was an error, but Honey assures it's just a fluke.

Back at their apartment, Honey is thrilled to announce to Gogo that the video she got of Mochi slow clapping has gone viral. He's an internet star!

Meanwhile at Mr. Sparkles' studio, people are taking photos of him. His phone buzzes, and he now sees that Mochi's viral video is gaining more popularity. His game show video is currently the most viewed video of all time and he wants to make sure he stays on top. He jumps on a trampoline in a cowboy outfit and then sticks a landing on a...horse body with a wiener face? It's not impressive to his slowly fading audience and he begins noticing that his merchandise is being replaced by Mochi (aka 'Slow Clap Cat') merch. Mochi's video hits number one and Mr. Sparkles is more determined than ever to get his spot back. He hits fragile objects with a huge fish while rollerskating and dresses up like a doll, but to no avail. Mochi's video is trending incredible well and Mr. Sparkles video has plummeted significantly.

In his dressing room, he's giving himself a pep talk when one of his employees comes in to announce that Yaki Taco will no longer be sponsoring him. Yaki Taco now presents Mochi. This angers him further, saying that no one can take away his sparkle.

Later on in the night, Hiro is presenting the next version of the suit delivery system to Baymax and Wasabi. The suits arrive in a large circular container, but the suits were supposed to pop out upon their arrival. Hiro is now frustrated that it won't work and Wasabi decides to leave, but the container starts rolling downhill and it's headed for Wasabi. Wasabi does well out-running it as Hiro chases after it (with Baymax slowly following behind). Wasabi jumps between two trees. The container hits these trees which activates the machine to shoot out the suits.

Now caught up to him, Baymax notes Wasabi has a minor abrasion on his elbow and Hiro apologizes for this. He doesn't understand why his brain isn't coming up with the proper solution and it hasn't been working out for him lately. Wasabi suggests that Hiro is experiencing what all scientist fear...inventors block. Hiro is shocked by this and one of Baymax's rocket fists hits Hiro in the face. Hiro says it's a seven before Baymax can even finish asking his usual "how would you rate your pain" question.

The next day, Hiro is continuing to draw a blank on a new idea. He flops on his bed admitting that he does have inventors block. Baymax scans him and states that his condition may be psychological. He suggests therapy and Baymax attempts an exercise with Hiro. He asks him what his childhood was like, but Hiro doesn't understand what that has to do with inventors block. He explains that self improvement is a life-long process, but Hiro needs faster results.

Later on, Mr. Sparkles tries to enter his own studio, but the guard (Felony Carl) says they're at full capacity. He's upset by this, but despite explaining who he is, he's still not getting inside. Anyway, Cass is riding a bike next to the building with Mochi in a front basket. Everyone outside is excited to see Slow Clap Cat (Mochi loves the attention too), but Mr. Sparkles continues to grow angry at becoming a nobody to everyone around him. He ominously backs away, saying "we'll see who has the last clap".

In the nerd lab, Wasabi is working on something and Hiro still hasn't thought of anything new. He worries about never getting over his inventors block. Wasabi asks when he last took a break, but Hiro doesn't do breaks. Wasabi explains that he's had his best ideas when he wasn't trying and "breaks can lead to breakthroughs" which is really good advice. He then persuades Hiro to meditate with him. During the meditation, Hiro imagines he's floating on a fluffy, white cloud and one of the clouds next to him shapes into a laptop. Wasabi's face appears in another cloud, displeased with Hiro brainstorming during meditation. Hiro makes Wasabi's face cloud disappear, but in real life, he's actually slapping Wasabi's face.

On the news, Bluff Dunder has Cass and Mochi on to talk about Mochi's video. Cass admits it's exciting about how his video is the most viewed ever. Going on commercial break, Cass thanks Bluff for having her on the show. He offers to give her an autograph and even though she turns it down, he still gives her one anyway. Meanwhile, Mochi gets distracted by a wind up mouse and goes after it. Let the fun begin.

Later on, Fred comes into the cafe to show a video of Mr. Sparkles. He's announcing his brand new show called Totally Lethal Unfair Obstacle Challenge. The camera zooms in on Mochi inside a rocket. Mr. Sparkles is challenging everyone to beat his obstacle within the next hour. If someone succeeds, Mochi goes free. If not, he'll launch Mochi will go into space. The countdown begins! The gang is determined to save him within the hour. Hiro's latest idea for getting their suits delivered is using a voice command on his phone. He instructs to have the suits delivered to the Lucky Cat Cafe, but the voice command mishears him terribly (twice) and sends the suits to the middle of the ocean. They don't have backup suits either. Cass shows up at the cafe and says she needs to hang up fliers. Hiro tells Baymax to go with her and to make sure she doesn't find out that Mr. Sparkles has him. The rest of the team will start "searching". Hiro tells his friends to buy him some time at the studio. Hiro now knows what to do and how to do it.

The gang manages to sneak into the studio (since it's boobytrapped). The only way to save Mochi is to complete the obstacle. Twenty minutes are remaining. The challenge they all have to try to beat is called Scream Of Broccoli. They have to wear a broccoli suit, clear a pot of fon-doom (there are ropes to hold onto). Then they have to run on a conveyor belt and avoid getting hit by swinging broccoli. Fred is all in for this challenge and goes first. He makes a run for the ropes, but he doesn't grab on and falls right into the melted cheese. Hiro is currently working on another new design, gaining inspiration from his ping-pong bot. With Mochi on a computer screen (and 15:30 left on the timer), he tells him to hang on.

Wasabi is up next for the challenge and successfully gets through the first part of the obstacle. He manages to dodge a few swinging broccoli pieces, but one does knock him flat on his face. He's still going, but huge carrots come rolling his way and another broccoli knocks him into a tomato pit. A robotic hand picks him up and dumps him into ranch dressing. He gave it some good effort.

Cass is putting up fliers for Mochi, confessing she'd fall to pieces if something happened to him. Baymax blocks her view of seeing Mochi on TV and gives her a warm hug. During this hug he lifts her up and gets her away from seeing what's really going on.

Honey Lemon is now going against the obstacles. She gracefully gets through the first part and hops on rolling barrels as if she does so everyday. Mr. Sparkles then shows off an unfair part. He makes part of the belt disconnect and Honey goes flying. She gets dunked in the ranch too. There's only five minutes left and time for one last contestant. Gogo isn't fond of looking like an idiot, but she is wearing the broccoli suit and passes through the fon-doom challenge with ease. Mr. Sparkles strikes her down with some of the cheese, but she grabs a carrot and swings herself back on the belt. She dodges a heavy blast of ranch and slides onto another belt. She grabs onto a carrot and smacks everything that comes in her way. She's close to winning, but there's one major obstacle left and it's the most dangerous one Mr. Sparkles has ever designed.

It's a giant blender and the blades actually work. Luckily there are rings for Gogo to swing across. Only one minute to go now. She's getting across well despite losing a shoe, but Mr. Sparkles adds a watermelon canon into the mix. Pineapples fall from the ceiling too and some of the juice gets onto Gogo's last ring. She slips, but his holding onto the edge of the blender. Gogo struggles, but successfully pulls herself up, makes a run for it and hits the button with a second to spare!

Gogo demands to have Mochi, but Mr. Sparkles goes against his word and launches Mochi anyway. Mr. Sparkles exits the studio on a giant rocket shaped chicken because why not. The gang is upset thinking that Mochi will be gone forever, but Hiro shows up with his newest idea. Pressing a button on his phone, his own rocket flies on in and chases after the rocket Mochi is in. Hiro increases speed on his rocket and with a few more presses, hands appear from the bot, take the window off and carefully gets a hold of Mochi. The bot comes back and makes a smooth landing. Everyone is happy to have Mochi back safe and sound and Hiro is excited that his bot worked. Mochi slow claps for Hiro and everyone else joins in on the clapping.

The next day at the cafe, Fred comes in with exciting news that 'Slow Clap Cat Reunites with Owner' has become the most viewed video ever. Wasabi asks Hiro how he got over his inventors block. He figures seeing Mochi in trouble made him forget he was blocked in the first place. The idea he came up with led him to something else. He re-purposed the bot (who is now known as Skymax) to be their new suit delivery system. Skymax shows up with the suits and Fred asks if he can also clean them since his is starting to stink, but Skymax shakes his head.

Meanwhile, Mr. Sparkles is thrilled to see that his latest game show hit ten million views. He thinks everyone wants his sparkle, but in reality, he's wanted for what he did.

This episode was pretty interesting!

I really liked that the show had an episode where it shows that it's not easy to suit up right away. They can easily forget where they last had their suits and I think Hiro trying to figure out a better way to have their suits brought to them was such a good idea. I'm really hoping to see Skymax being used for this in future episodes.

I'm glad we also got an episode where Mochi gets some spotlight. Cat videos definitely go viral and it was great to see that his slow clap became the most viewed video. He deserves all the merch he can get! Where can I get a Slow Clap Cat t-shirt?

Mr. Sparkles is pretty cool. I like that the creators turned a scrapped villain from the movie into one of many villains for the show. He's definitely more of a humorous villain than dangerous. I mean yeah, his obstacle to get to Mochi was indeed lethal (Gogo could have slipped and died if she had fallen in the blender, not cool man). I think it makes sense that he's more on the comical side. He's good being a game show host, but he likes the spotlight being on him. Still, I would love to see him again.

Gogo did spectacular in this episode. She didn't want to be a contestant on the show, but with Mochi's life being on the line, she took action and she did amazing! Actually, it was really awesome to see the whole gang do their best on trying to save Mochi. It's really sweet that the gang loves him as much as the Hamada family does.

Seeing Hiro work through inventors block was cool. It did feel like a similar theme to Failure Mode, but instead of Hiro deciding to give up, he was able to figure something out and not only did it save Mochi, but it is now the answer to their super suit problem.

I'll admit, when Baymax asks Hiro what his childhood was like, I was so ready for it, but I'm not disappointed that he didn't get into it. Due to how the episode played out, I think him discussing his childhood would have been out of place, but maybe we'll get into it another time when the time is right.

On a scale of one to ten...I'd rate Mr. Sparkles Loses His Sparkle an 8.2!

#my reviews #not my fave but it was fun!#hiro #hiro hamada #baymax #mochi #gogo #fred #wasabi #honey lemon #aunt cass #mr. sparkles #bluff dunder #big hero 6: the series #bh6: the series #bh6 series spoilers #big hero 6 #bh6 #mr. sparkles loses his sparkle

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jenniferhettenbach · 3 years

Text

Inside the Whale

This is something I wrote for a class I'm taking.

Inside the Whale

By Jennifer Hettenbach

If there was a response to my outburst, I didn't hear it. The only thing I could hear or focus on was the rapid building pressure, the emotion that roared inside my head, the numbness inside my fingers and toes, inside my chest, as if I could feel my body clamp down and try to keep me from exploding all over the small room. It wasn't working. Something was breaking in me, the pressure too much to hold back any longer. The fight to keep tears corralled behind closed lids to spilled over and roll down my cheeks. Pushed too far, and now I had gone crazy.

Society doesn't think much of people like me, low-wage workers, mothers, fathers, those of us who might have made a wrong turn or misjudged a step a time or two, us unskilled workers. Those of us who didn’t start with a leg up or even a lot of choices to begin with. Those of us who stock shelves, run registers, bring the food to your table, make overpriced coffee taste nothing like coffee or fulfill your online orders. We are all too often treated not like human beings, but cogs in a machine where our wants and needs don't matter. Where we don’t matter. Treated as if we deserve to struggle, to do without, abused and used because we didn’t make better choices, we weren’t born into different families didn’t try harder.

Society doesn’t take into consideration the brutality of low wage work. The constant stress, worry, of an unstable, unreliable, unrelenting job day in and day out with no promise of reward or finish line (Guendelsberger 10). A corporation that changes the rules as often as they change their CEO’s, to the benefit of its appearance rather than the toll of its employees. Or the manager who doesn’t pitch in when the work is in the weeds. Coworkers who look for a simple way out or customers who use you as a punching bag. Low wage work is “dehumanizing” (Guendelsberger 10) degrading and relentless.

I’d worked for Wally-World for almost four years when management approached me about a job. A supervisory position for the unloaders, someone to run the crew of maybe ten to fifteen people who unloaded the eighteen-wheeler trailer trucks and sorting merch for both the grocery side of the superstore and the G. M (general merchandise).

“You should apply for the position, Jennifer,” Larry, a support manager I had taken a liking to since he first appeared less than a year ago. We had a lot in common, as we both seemed to share that, “I’m not taking any more shit from you” vibe about us. When he worked, he often stopped by wherever department I was in to shoot the shit, but that night he had something different on his mind.

“I don’t know, I have a low tolerance for people, and even less for their bullshit,” I had told him between opening and breaking down cardboard boxes.

“Why do you think they always put you one the heaviest freight, Jennifer? Because you go in there and get the job done without having to have someone looking over your shoulder all the time. That is the kind of person this job needs. I think you will get the hang of the people in no time.”

And right there was my first mistake. I let myself be flattered by compliments, sucked into that game of sweet talk, none of which helps me pay my bills. One of my many flaws has always been looking for the approval of others, and when that approval comes with a side of encouragement, I let myself believe that other people know me better than I know myself. And what follows is the inevitable ignoring of that little voice in my head saying, “this is a bad idea.”

I took this news home and told anyone who would listen that there was a promotion available, and I was thinking of applying for it. I wanted advice, I wanted thoughtfulness, I wanted praise for my hard work. I wanted someone to tell me that I could do this job, but there was no one who could tell me what I wanted to hear. I had to find out on my own. I also talked to the higher ups, including the store manager, Daryl who would oversee the new spots. A fact that only added to the jobs appeal. I had worked for Daryl on the overnight shift, and I had liked him. He was easy to talk to, nice, and always made the crew under him feel like they were all working toward the same goal, unlike other managers I had worked for when they feel as if their crew should shutter at the sound of their voice.

The interview was conducted by Daryl, which he explained to me in detail what the job consisted of and what my responsibilities were, there was even talk about how my application bumped other applicants down a notch. A nugget that again stroked a very neglected part of my ego and started to add strength to my confidence. It felt good. And I was determined to get this job right. It didn’t take long for word to come back on my favor, a first for everything.

For about a minute and a half I was, dare I say, proud of myself. These people I had been working for, with had thought well enough of me and the job I had been doing to put me in charge of a bigger job. They didn’t think of me as trouble or a liar or untrustworthy, or a screwup. They trusted me to get the job done. I had earned it.

Hold onto something because here comes my second mistake.

I took the job as Cap Team Supervisor with the understanding of how things were going to run and who would be running them. I had asked all the questions and gotten all the answers, these were major factors in the decision of taking the job. But as always, nothing could be trusted, or counted on. From the start I had felt overwhelmed, unsupported, and left out there to survive on my own. Depending on what manager was on duty was the difference in answers or instructions. While one team of management might tell us to focus on the sort of the truck, the other on another day would tell us we needed to get the departments on the floor worked. Work unfinished by other shifts, departments, or just other employees often fell to the Cap Team to clean up or finish. Overstock that should have been binned on shelves in the back were left on carts we needed to sort incoming freight. Wrapped pallets of overstock taken down off a high stack to fetch one item would be left where it sat on the dancefloor.

Maybe it was Wally World Inc. or the store manager, Bret, or maybe it was Daryl himself, but one of them reached down and grabbed the edge of my metaphorical rug and yanked. Before I knew it, I was ass over elbows.

In a quick succession of moves, the job I had signed up for evaporated. The man in charge moved to another shift. Replaced by a mouthy little shit that loved the sound of his own voice more than any one of those plastic dolls on one of those “Real Housewives” shows. He thought a lot of himself, and I could feel it roll off him even before he opened his mouth. I had been in one of the outer offices complaining about one thing or another and looking for suggestions or resolutions to the problems that seemed to be piling up around me.

“I have big plans on how we can change this system and make it better, more efficient and less waste of time,” Danny had said sitting in the corner of the office looking at his phone the first time I saw him. That office was always crowded with management, a place employee out on the floor said they went to hide so I hadn’t paid him any attention. I didn’t know who he was or why he was commenting on a conversation he hadn’t been invited into when Daryl was nice enough to clue me in.

“Oh, this is Danny. He will be taking my place as Cap Team Manager.”

I didn’t like him from the jump. He wore his sunglasses on his head and spoke as if all the problems we had would simply vanish once “wait until they get a load of me”. And as much as I hoped that were true, I had my doubts. It didn’t take me long to realize that our new leader was there under his own set of skillful praise.

Our replacement leader was not only wanting the usual the two, sometimes three, truckloads of freight unloaded and sorted but was also looking to impress the elders. He volunteered us to have more and more departments on the floor stocked by the time the night crew came into stock. All of this with a constantly fluctuating crew of hires, fires, and quitters, not to mention the ones who were always continuous and on more than one occasion violent.

“Davidson!” I had shouted over the sound of rollers on the line, a stretchable line of rollers carrying boxes down off the truck and to the guys sorting it at the other end. Davidson, a new hire, was the size of a football player and easily must have weighed 400 pounds. He had only been working a week and even though his temper was quick triggered, he could throw an entire truck from one end to the other without complaint. The problem was he had a nasty habit of shoving the boxes down the line as if he were launching grenades at the enemy. Doing so, damaged freight, sent freight off the line and smashed fingers of the guys on the other end.

“Davidson!” I shouted again, trying to get his attention. When he finally looked at me, I felt a little spooked by the look on his face. “You are pushing too hard again!”

“Man, why don’t you tell these assholes to hurry the hell up!” he shouted back at me. “Look at the line, its packed full again!”

“Yes, I know, it does that when they have to move and reset pallets.”

“Fuck that!” he shouted and started down the line of rollers violently forcing the line of boxes to spill out onto the floor and bunch together. Boxes of every shape, size and weight spilled out onto the floor of both the trailer and the dance floor where guys on the other end shouted for the line to stop. But all I could do is watch this brute of a man as he stormed toward me. The only thing I could think was, “I hope he hurts me because I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

For this job, I had stepped so far outside my comfort zone, so far outside the box, so far away from what I am and who I am, I couldn’t even find my comfort anymore. I was miserable and unhappy. All I thought about anymore was work. How to deal with it. How to survive it. I took a job I thought I could learn how to do and found myself drifting alone out at sea without a harbor insight. I did the best I could with every ounce of myself, and with little to no help or advice from the upper management. I felt used.

I knew even before I pushed open that heavy wooden door leading into the small manager’s office, that my six-month performance review was going to be a far cry from the positive reviews I had received before. But I didn’t really know how bad until I opened the door and found not one but three managers sitting around the tiny room, none of them make eye contact.

Walmart has a policy that when reviews or talks are given there is supposed to be another person in the room as a witness to what happened. The fact that Danny, thought he needed two other people with him meant that he was concerned with how that little meeting was going to go. It was unlikely that he was concerned that my happiness at my good review would send me into such gleeful hysterics that I would be unable to control myself and he would need these other two to pull my fat ass off him. I thought I felt something hit the floor between my feet, turned out it was that last bit of heart.

Standing there in that manager's office that day, my fight-or-flight mechanism twitched. It felt like a morgue, as if no one wanted to be in there, especially me. I thought I was going to be fired. I had wished, contemplated, threatened, and screamed and maybe even prayed a little over the past months for the strength to quit, to walk out of that building and never come back. But I hadn't, I kept pushing, kept trying to get it right. I tortured myself for absolutely nothing.

“Come in, have a seat, Jennifer,” Danny said, speaking first, and I did, reluctantly.

The small office was square in shape with just enough room to hold two desks on either side of the room. One desk was held a computer, files, and manuals, while the one across from it seemed to be the catch all for everything else that came into the room. Four plastic chairs filled the space between the desk, all but one was occupied. The room felt tighter than it had before, and I felt a twinge of claustrophobia, another kick to my fight or flight. To give myself a little room, I leaned my butt against the catch all desk and put my feet in the chair, giving Danny my undivided.

Danny sat with his back to the computer, papers in his hands. I had tried to like him; some days were easier than others. He was an average guy with average looks, but something about him just told you a bald head and beer gut was somewhere in his future. He had thin blonde hair, combed back from his face, and usually topped with his sunglasses, but not that day. He was one of those guys who was always warning people about what a bad ass he was which was probably one of the first things I didn’t like about him.

Brandon, the overnight manager, sat in front of the door, opposite of Danny. Handsome, sweet, and a good personality with a fondness for bike riding and music. I don’t think I ever saw him get upset, though I did see reflections of a bad day set in his face, though he never took it out on people. There was a woman there, but I cannot remember who she was and if she said anything I don’t remember what it could have been.

“As you know, it's time for your six-month review,” Danny started, some papers sitting on his crossed legs.

Sitting on the desk, my hands gripping the edge to the point of pain. I leaned on my hands, and let my head fall between my shoulders. I don’t know if my brain registered what he was saying at first or if I was just trying to save myself the disappointment of hearing it all by only reaching out to grasp ahold of certain words--

“--giving you the lowest score possible--”

“--this job isn’t for you--”

“--not good with people--”

“--complaints against you--”

Every word felt like a blow to my self-esteem, the pain of complete failure. I felt like an idiot. Nothing I had done, nothing I had tried to do, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, driving myself crazy with anger and frustration to do a good job did any good. It didn't matter that Danny had never pulled me aside and told me there was a problem. It didn't seem to matter then when the company instigated a new protocol; they asked for time to iron out the kinks; a courtesy not allotted to me. Danny gave me the lowest score allowed, so all the other scores I had received before this, all the hard work I did before, wiped out.

There was something about me that Danny didn't like, but the reason is unclear. I know that when he first arrived and increased our workload without the stabilizing the workload, we already had; I told him so. When a former manager I worked under came back as a regular Joe and didn't like me telling him what to do, tried to rile up the crew against me. I didn't hide my anger at him for putting me through it. Maybe it was me not liking him. I have never been good at hiding my disdain. And as he was reading off my review, he had made no effort to hide himself. Afterword, I heard rumors about his distaste for women who were less than cooperative. Of course, people could have just been saying that to be sympathetic.

I don’t know if it were the tears, I could no longer hold back or the feel like something alien like was about to come through my chest, but I very much needed to be out of that room and away from that man. Before anyone could move, I was on my feet weaving through legs and chairs, passed Danny and the witness to my humiliation, fighting to get out that door as if the room were on fire, mumbling through a tight throat and dry mouth about needing a minute. I weaved I was in a full-blown panic, but there wasn’t any relief on the other side of that door.

I poured out of that tiny office as if there hadn’t been enough air inside and hoped to find a great big lungful of relief in that grey hallway that ran the length of the store. To my annoyance, I only found more people. I had to get away from people. The voices, the energy, the words felt like fingers touching me, agitating me, holding me down and keeping me there. If I didn’t, I would draw attention, attention I didn’t want or need, and eventually someone would ask what was wrong, a question my ego wasn’t ready to admit out loud; that I’d been an idiot and a fool to think that hard work and determination would get me through, would earn me a little corrective feedback if I were doing it wrong or maybe a little respect. But apparently, that was another one of those fairy tales like unconditional love and they create all men equal.

There wasn’t a lot of praise in my family. Or understanding, support, or emotion for that matter. My mother was one who couldn’t hide her distain either, though hers was directed at me. She hated everything about me and wasn’t shy about telling me about it. She never would admit she didn’t like me, but I could feel it. She hated me for making her a mother, and maker her feel things she didn’t want to feel; like guilt at not being around. I tried everything to win her love. Changed who I was, what I want, what I looked like, but there was always something. It wasn’t until she got a call from Texas, two states away from her Kansas home. A man she barely knew on the other end. He was fighting with me, hitting me, spitting on me, and he was calling so she could listen. The man continued his tirade, cursing me, punching me, backing me into the corner of the room. On his way out of the room, he picked up the phone to tell her, I was a whore before throwing the phone down and leaving the room. When I felt safe enough to go for the phone, some part of me thought she might ask if I was alright, I was wrong. “How could any daughter of mine be so stupid?”

I squeezed past people, elbowed through groups and freight being rolled this direction or that, mumbling something that sounded perversely polite. I burst through the swinging double doors that lead out of the back and onto the sales floor. I was somewhere between the men’s department and the shoes when I caught sight of Carmon, someone I considered a friend, and she of me.

“Jennifer, what’s wrong?” the small woman said moving toward me. For the briefest of seconds, I wanted to tell her, “I fucked up!” I wanted to let go of all that anger and frustration, hurt and outrage, but I stopped myself. If I opened my mouth and let it out, it probably wasn’t going to be pleasant, or kind or quiet for that matter. I liked Carmen, she had been sweet to me when I first started, and even bought me a cake and present for my birthday once. I didn’t want to take this out on her. Before she could get to me, I waved a hand at her and hurried away, cutting through the baby department into the men’s department.

I dodged and weaved past people, carts, displays and shelves until I burst out into the night air, taking a sharp deep breath as if coming up from underwater. I moved out of the flow of traffic coming in and out of the store and over to the side of the building where there were no people and no lights. The cool night air felt good on skin soaked in sweat and heated with fever. I took long, deep drags of smoke, held it in my lungs before blowing what my lungs didn’t absorb out through my nostrils.

A smile that held no laughter spread across my face as my tightened throat grew unbearable as I completely let go. The tears that had all fallen where joined by others and leaning against the cement building, I slide down the wall until my ass met the ground. You idiot! You stupid fucking idiot! I wanted to scream, but the sight of customers passing by kept me from it, even in my state, I still tried to be a good employee.

I’m not sure how long I sat there on the dirty cement. I knew it wasn’t long enough, the only way it would have been to never have went back inside, and for a minute I thought about it, but even that was beyond my ability to do. My son was in there, working the third shift we had started together, but I had thought I was special, good. But there was also the freedom. My entire life had been at someone else’s discretion. I got married too young, had kids too young, divorced too young. Through all of it, I was helped by others until the choices I made for my life, my children’s lives were no longer my own. That job afforded me a freedom that I could have gotten nowhere else.

Once back inside the cell, I tried to busy myself with removing pens, printer pages, and lists that I always seemed to be stuffed or sticking out of some pocket or another. I stripped off the navy-blue vest with the built-in yellow target on the back in case an active shooter happened to wonder if half his work was already done for him, as Danny continued reading aloud my list of flaws and defects, rounding it off with my lack of civil tone.

“You have several complaints against you from your crew.”

“I give as good as I get, Danny! If they choose to be a constant pain in my ass, constantly take up time, constantly need attention and argumentative, we are not going to be buddies. This is a job not Romper Room!” I said, feeling my control slipping with every word I uttered. Out of the fifteen some odd guys that were on the crew at the time, I bet I could have narrowed down that list to the two or three that had the problem with me. They had had that problem since day one. Some of the guys didn’t like being put in departments where I needed them but wanted to be put in the departments where they wanted to go. They didn’t like that when they gave me shit, I gave it right back.

“Speaking of complaints, is there a reason why this review needs an audience?”

All three seemed to try and speak at once, but Danny’s voice won out. “There needs to be a witness…” Brandon jumped to his feet and volunteered to go as if he couldn’t wait to get out of that room. It wasn’t the only one feeling it. Danny continued to ramble about how much I suck and told me he couldn't make me quit the position, but he thought I would be better off as a department manager working by myself.

“Do you have any openings for department managers?” I’d asked, hoping to get away from him as fast as possible.

“No.”

I threw the nylon vest I had balled in my hands onto the desk behind him, by tomorrow the story would sound as if I threw a hammer at his head instead of a nylon vest. I was done. I was done with this conversation, with this company, with this whole job.

“And by that action, I can see I’ve made the right choice.”

As soon as I was out of that office, I was on my phone first texting my son who was at work somewhere in the building and then calling my husband. I was looking for support, compassion, an ally, but the more I told him the angrier I became. I had worked hard, done my best and gotten the work done. My voice became louder and louder echoing in the hollows of the back room. I felt out of control and on the verge of madness, while my husband kept telling me to stop and calm down before they fired me. His concern for the job, the paycheck, outweighed his concern for my pride, my hurt, my self-respect. I’m sure that if I had been in a different state of mind some part of me might have been able to understand that, but not nearly enough.

I quit my job as supervisor and went back to stocking shelves with my son for a couple more weeks at least. I saw Danny in the store from time to time until one day he was gone. I heard he took another job at another retailer. And one of the few females that had been on the unloading crew took my spot as supervisor, though I heard she didn’t fare much better.

I like to think I learned a little bit about myself. For one, I don’t play well with others. And I don’t like it when the fate of the project depends on others. Wally-World can say a lot of things about me, but they can’t say that I didn’t get shit done. After I left, I started looking for something better, something that might make me feel good about myself. Something to prove to myself that I am better than some egotistical blow hard. Something that said, not so stupid. I decided to go to college. I am currently working toward my bachelor’s degree in English and Creative Writing.

#You're better than that

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happymetalgeek · 5 years

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My final thoughts leaving Winterstorm last year as I trudged through the snow was they are not going to top this. That was my first year attending and the whole weekend blew me away. From the staff who are all volunteers, the amazing location, the like clockwork organisation down to the bands it left a lasting impression and came out top as my favourite festival of the year.

The thoughts that it could not be beaten faded as soon as the line up to 2018 was announced and I knew in an instant I would be back in this beautiful town again…so would it rate as highly as last year?

Tomorrow Is Lost

I did not make it for first band of the day Tomorrow Is Lost and the festival did not start on a good note as Cass king had a fall but managed to finish the set and we all heard later that she had broken her leg and had to go for surgery. From everyone here may we wish you a speedy recovery and thank you for your professionalism in closing the set.

Departed

I walked into the amazing venue as Departed were mid set and “Steal your Crown” was blasting from the PA. Having seen the band before I settled into the riffage straight away. These youngsters were the perfect way to open the show for me with their upbeat rocking out numbers. You can feel the Treatment backbone from guitarist Ben.

Having just arrived I was not ready for the tempo to be turned down but when “Pretty Little Thing” starts I know that it is not for long and I am upstairs shooting photos and headbanging away(yes, us photographers can do more than one thing at a time). Next is the almost indie “Are you Ready”. This is what us older folks would call a stadium filler. Back in the 80s this would have been a huge hit as it is a complete killer of a song with that little touch of radio friendliness that sold tens of thousands of records.

I cannot recommend this band enough and if you do not believe me just check out set closer “Come On”. This band won plenty of fans today and they just need to keep putting in the miles and things will definitely change for them.

Quartz

There is a bit of a theme running through Winterstorm again this year, yes there are plenty of Scottish connections but as Quartz took to the stage I realised the first time I saw them was on the stage of my all time favourite venue, The Glasgow Apollo and many of the bands this weekend also stood on that 15 Foot high stage.

The band may have changed since those days but with three members from the original line up from the 70s that is good going. The biggest change has to be singer David Garner and that man is a showman without doubt. This band is pre NWOBHM and many say they are partly responsible for that movement even if they are a bit overlooked these days.

The set took me back and I was in my element and even without the barnstorming rendition of “Heave and Hell” I would have been happy with the set but this song was incredible. It got the whole place singing and really started the party in Troon.

Anchor Lane

Anchor Lane played the festival last year and they have been moved up the bill considerably but based on the year they have had this was well deserved. The boys are on fire just now and even with a change of guitarist they cannot be slowed down.

The youngsters from Glasgow took that huge stage in their stride and tonight I felt a massive change in the band. I only saw them a month ago for the first time with new boy Lawrence O’Brien playing one of his first shows as they supported Heavy Pettin. It was not a good night for them as the sound was horrific.

So one month on and with the knowledge that the sound would be spot on tonight I was looking forward to see how they would go. I was more than impressed, much more than when I saw them for the first time(and that was a huge amount). Lawrence has shaken off the nerves and tonight he let loose. He was adding parts to songs and basically lapping up the whole thing and it was obvious that the whole bands dynamic had changed.

As they went through songs that I have seen many times before I could see the change clearly. This little band have stepped up to the big time with some huge festivals this year and tonight I looked on and thought to myself they truly have become rock stars.

With the ability of Lawrence on guitar front man Conor has gained some slack and is now able to sling the guitar to the side and focus on the singing and the geeing up of the audience and this was brilliant to see. I caught up with Conor later and said I would love to see him out from behind that guitar and little did I know it would not be long before it happened.

Once again the boys wowed the crowd, so much so they sold out of their EP and hopefully that cash will go straight into the coffers for finishing off their debut album which they have been working on for some time.

These four boys did Glasgow proud once again and I cannot wait to see what they have in store for us in 2019.

The New Roses

The next band of the day was the one I had been waiting for. I had never caught The New Roses live before but considering they rarely venture outside of their native Germany that is no surprise. I am just hoping that the reaction tonight and the rest of their short tour tells the band just how loved they are here.

They were incendiary from the moment “Every Wildheart” burst forth. My anticipation to this set was paid off in about 2 minutes and the wait to see them was worth it. The words on everyone’s lips this weekend was The New Roses whether you had heard of them or not. Even playing this early in the weekend they instantly became one of the bands of the festival.

Their merch stand took a pounding as soon as they finished and as the boys were out there signing autographs and getting photos taken they were winning more fans(now, I won’t say it was all women but with those looks you know there was a lot of feminine hormones going into overdrive).

The New Roses are the epitome of a party band with songs like “Dancing on a Razorblade” and “It’s a Long Way” you have to be paralised from the head down not to be on your feet and going crazy. Timmy Rough is a brilliant front man and has the crowd in the palm of his hand. This is evident as he gets us all trained up to sing along to “Life Ain’t Easy(For a Boy with Long Hair)”. The southern/country mix with the lyrics most of us can associate with got everyone kicking off.

As they closed with “One More For the Road” you knew you had witnessed something really special and you know this band are going all the way to the top. Before they finished their set I had already made my mind up that if they do not tour here next year I will be making my way to Germany to see these boys in their own back yard and I can assure you that not many bands have that effect on me.

Oliver Dawson’s Saxon

Back to the Glasgow Apollo link with Oliver Dawson’s Saxon. I saw Saxon in The Apollo many times and I have seen them many more times since those days but I have never caught this line up. I knew what to expect set wise as they do focus on the early Saxon releases but I was not expecting the show which played out in front of my eyes. I was also not expecting Bri Shaugnnessy to be such a showman and vocalist.

He is the perfect choice to replace Biff and he won me over in moments. As soon as “Strong Arm of the Law” started and the decades rolled back I was in heaven. Now as much as this song is amazing next up in “Frozen Rainbow” was the one that shook me as I had not heard that live for so long I forgot how much I loved it. Those two songs were then backed up with a knockout punch in “Dallas 1PM”.

It is easy to forget how much of an impact Saxon had on my teenage years and when you hear these songs it just reminds you how fucking amazing they were. To prove the point we follow up with “Denim and Leather”, “747” and finish on “Wheels of Steel”. The last song spliced hysterically with the proclaimers “500 miles”.

This was the band that blew me away all those years ago. I first saw them in 1979 when I was in the throes of my punk era. I sat on a hill in Loch Lomond for a festival and that was where my love of noisy guitars started.

Nobody can say this band is a parody as you have two integral members to that original band and for me with a set like the one I had just witnessed you earned your stripes to bear the name Saxon.

Zal Cleminson’s Sin Dogs

Next is a Glasgow Apollo legend in Zal Cleminson’s Sin Dogs. The Sensational Alex Harvey Band shows at the Apollo are a piece of Scottish folklore. From the infamous Christmas parties and the half naked women to some of the best live shows performed on that stage.

Having never seen Sin Dogs I had to wonder if Zal had calmed down any but it did not take me long to find out that was not the case. The space age pensioner walked onto that stage as if he had bought the whole of Troon.

He plugged in the guitar, pulled down the silver shades and taught the youngsters what a performer is. The Sin Dogs are a million miles away from SAHB but they are sheer entertainment. The mix of guitars and electronics gives you a real up to date feel and boy can Zal can sing.

To say Zal was not happy with the sound would be an understatement and this man has no idea how to be subtle so the abuse came forth. Having never seen the band before I thought the sound was spot on apart from when the wifi mic came flying out of the guitar.

What did hit me was how good a guitarist this man is, he was mesmerising and the band he has built around him played their part in giving a brilliant industrial sound throughout songs like “Armageddon Day” and “Guns of God”.

This is one band that is now firmly in my sights and I will be catching them the next time they hit Glasgow as this set left me wanting more.

The Rising Souls

Next I ran over to the second stage for my discovery of the weekend in The Rising Souls. I was dragged to this one and I have to put my hands up and admit when I am wrong. My good lady and a good friend had caught the boys recently at King Tuts and from what I had heard I was not too impressed but when you see this band live I challenge you not to be gobsmacked. The first thing that will hit you is That voice, singer Dave has such power you are hooked immediately. Follow that up with the groove train that is going on behind him and this makes for one hell of a show.

The sound goes from blues to funk to slithering vocal stripteases. Even as a man I can get how sultry this sound is from the boys. The song “Set me Free” could have been the song from the Movie Dusk Till Dawn as Salma Hayek strolls across the tables.

Seeing this band is must so if you are going to see Black Star Riders this tour make sure you are early to catch the boys. Failing that catch them early January on their own short tour.

GUN

The night was closed off with Gun and with their recent resurgence they were well deserved headliners. After “She Knows” they burst into “Don’t Say It’s Over” and the place erupts as if this was a Barrowland headline show.

To me this band are better than they were back in the 90s. After going through numerous singers(One playing this festival tomorrow so I hope there was no fighting) Dante stepped behind the mic and has rejuvenated the band and with the excellent new album Favourite Pleasures gaining huge plaudits from fans and media alike it looks like the boys are back for good.

The Glasgow Boys stormed through numbers like “Better Days”, “Steal Your Fire” and “Taking on the World”, songs that will kick your ass live and remind you how strong this band’s back catalogue is.

My top moments are always the cover of “Word Up” and show closer “Shame on You”. Gun stepped up to the headliner monicker and totally deserved it. They finished off an incredible day with sheer style and makes you smile with pride at the talent Scotland has which is showcased at this festival.

Images and words Ritchie Birnie

GIG REVIEW: @WinterStormXVI 2018 Day One with @RitchieBirnie @TILband @Departeduk ‏ @QuartzRockBand @AnchorLane ‏@TheNewRoses ‏ @ODSaxon @ZCSinDogs @TheRisingSouls @gunofficialuk My final thoughts leaving Winterstorm last year as I trudged through the snow was they are not going to top this.

#Anchor Lane #Departed #Gun #Oliver Dawson&039;s Saxon #Quartz #The New Roses #The Rising Souls #Tomorrow Is Lost #Zal Cleminson’s Sin Dogs

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