#Smith may not have been totally ready to leave the hospital

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 31

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Eventually, his grandma convinced him that he did not have to send a horse head to Ichirou Moriyama with his regrets. “He said if you’re ever looking for work my little Rotisserie, it’s going to be okay.” She had promised.

FF chooses to believe his grandma.

He’s found a lot of his mental stability is built up on just believing what his grandma has told him to soothe him, it helps that she’s usually right.

He takes some deep breathes, shoves down his embarrassment that he was seconds away from crying in front of Andrew, Captain Neil, and Nicky if Nicky hadn’t dragged the other two out. He really needed to thank Nicky.

“I can finish eating the soup Grandma, it’s really good. What was Kevin trying to do to it?” He asks taking the container his grandma brought the soup in and remembering what Nicky had said as he had gotten Captain Neil and Andrew out of the room.

“That boy is very handsome, very smart, and somehow does not have a bit of common sense.” His Grandma says with a fond laugh, “He wanted to put protein powder into your soup to help you heal faster.” She says.

FF had seen Kevin put protein powder in weirder things. What would be so bad about that?

“It was Vanilla flavored Protein powder my little Chicken.” She says reading the question off of his face and in his silence.

“Chicken and waffles exists as a flavor combination” he says not seeing what would have been so bad about it.

“Sweetie, you can’t have anything other than clear liquids right now. The doctor said so.” She says with a sigh.

He nods, that makes sense.

His grandma sighs and looks upwards.

“We need to talk to the Doctors about when you can get out of here. I think being back in a hospital is too hard on you.” She reaches up and brushes back his hair thumb starting at his eyebrow and tracing back to his ear. FF knows it’s not very noticeable otherwise his step brothers would have used the scar to torment him like how they brought up his slightly chipped ear. Still, he keeps his bangs long just so he never has to see the scar in the mirror, knowing his eyes will always search it out.

“It’s hard to sleep when it’s quiet.” He admits.

“I know.” She says. “Are you okay for people to come back in? I’ll take Nicky to act as my translator to go speak with the hospital or I can go with that nice coach of yours since he already knows I speak English.” She offers.

“Can…can you take Coach Wymack?” He asks because he really feels like he needs Nicky if his Gran is going off.

“Of course my little Chicken.” She rises up, takes the empty soup container from his hands, and kisses his forehead before she smoothes his bangs back down. “If you want I can just have Nicky come in and the rest can stay out.” She offers.

“No, just…maybe ask Nicky to come in first?” FF asks, he doesn’t want to be rude. They’re here to see him, it was just a lot and he wants to thank Nicky for giving him the time he needed to calm back down.

“Of course, such a sweet young man. His fiancé is lucky!” She says with a smile.

“Erik is a very lucky guy.” FF agrees managing to return the smile his grandma offered him.

“Ok, I’ll send Nicky in and take your Coach to go see about getting you discharged.” She says leaving out the door.

“Thank you.” He says into the now empty room before leaning against the pillows of his bed and looking around his room again.

His eyes narrow on the flowers Nicky had brought.

Pink Tulips, Yellow Sunflowers all in a Blue vase.

One does not become maintain a close friendship with Nicky Hemmick without hearing extensively about how he feels about newly adopted Pride Flags.

“Why did Nicky get me Pan Pride colors?” He asks if only to fill the silence.

***

Nicky couldn’t help but pace a bit. Somehow waiting for FF to calm down enough that he could take visitors again was a lot worse than waiting for him to wake up from being stabbed. He shouldn’t have let Andrew or Neil start in on his friend, he knows the two of them are scared but Nicky is the only one who can actually understand how scared FF would be.

His sweet little Rotisserie Chicken (He’s claiming it as his own, he’s in love, Aras is a laugh riot) would absolutely be spiraling in anxiety. The others are talking amongst themselves but Nicky isn’t feeling particularly chatty at the moment.

There’s a sound and Nicky’s head snaps up to see Aras coming out of FF’s hospital room. Her face giving away some of her exhaustion but she brightens the moment she sees him. It’s a nice thing, having someone her age being so happy to see him. “He wants to see you. I want to speak with Coach Wymack so he can help me work on getting our Chicken discharged, can you translate for me?” She asks in Polish slowly for his benefit.

Nicky stops.

“He wants to see me?” He asks, “Just me?” He adds wanting to make sure he was understanding her.

She nods, “He will let the others in after, but right now? You’re the only friendly face he wants to see.” She says, “Who could blame him when it’s such a handsome one!”  She reaches up and pats his cheek affectionately.

Nicky can’t help the smile that fills his face.

He almost wants to turn around and be smug about it with everyone. The last two additions to their family were far closer with Andrew and Aaron, but FF was his.

A friend that would pick Nicky over his cousins.

“Of course, I’ll help you talk to Wymack.” He says and offers his elbow to Aras who laughs and calls him a gentleman as the two of them walk over to where the rest of the Monsters and Wymack were waiting.

“Is Smiths ready for company again?” Aaron asks rising to his feet.

“He only wants to see me right now.” Okay yes, Nicky is going to gloat a little. He feels pretty good when both Neil and Andrew’s faces tighten just a smidge. “Coach, Aras wants you to come with her to see about getting Smithy discharged?” He says before a thought occurs to him, “Wait, won’t I need to be there to explain it to Aras?” He asks with a frown.

Wymack coughs.

“We’ll be fine. I’ll get the information and you or Smith can explain it to Aras afterwards if need be.” Wymack waves away Nicky’s concern. “Go sit with the kid.” Wymack says.

Nicky looks at Aras, “Will you be okay without me to translate?” He says not wanting to make the decision without her.

“We’ll make do.” She promises with a smile, “Look after our little Rotisserie Chicken, will you?” She asks.

Nicky nods before looking to Wymack, “At least offer the lady your elbow Wymack! You’re escorting a LADY!” He exclaims and Wymack rolls his eyes but tellingly does offer his elbow for Aras to take.

“A gentleman coach!” Aras laughs.

“I’ll go with them, I want to hear what might need to be done for Smiths.” Kevin says rising up from the plastic chair he’d been sat in. “Aaron do you want to come too?” He asks.

“I think I’ve suffered enough today.” Aaron says and Nicky wonders what the car ride over was like for his cousin to sound that tired.

Kevin tilts his head obviously not understanding what Aaron was talking about but before Aaron could open his mouth and turn it into an argument Nicky intervened, “Kevin, be a gentleman and offer Aras your elbow.” Nicky insists.

Kevin spluttered his cheeks going a little red.

“Coach already is escorting her!” He squawks.

“Do you think one man is enough for a woman of Aras’ caliber?” He asks seriously.

Kevin looks embarrassed but, sure enough, offers his elbow to Aras as well.

She takes it, “Two handsome gentlemen. What a treat. Now this one just needs to keep his mouth closed and he’d be perfect.” She looks up at Kevin with a smile.

Kevin, as he has since Aras arrived, just smiles back at Aras’ warm tone looking very much like a pleased golden retriever.

Nicky turns to head towards the door, “He doesn’t want to see us?” Neil asks and Nicky stops.

Neil looks uncomfortable and Andrew has the line on his forehead that he’s experiencing an emotion he isn’t comfortable with.

Nicky is a man with grace.

“I think he might just want to make sure this isn’t going to be Interrogation 2: Electric Boogaloo. I’ll promise that NO ONE,” he points a finger at each of the younger men, “is going to do that. Right?” He asks.

Aaron nods, Andrew gives off an aura of agreeing, and Neil opens his mouth, “We won’t.” He promises.

Nicky nods, “I’ll come get you guys in just a bit.” He says and heads for FF’s room.

Nicky finds FF sat up in his bed with tear marks under his eyes and feels his heart twist at the sight.

FF looks at him with a baffled look on his face, “You think I’m Pan?” He asks.

Nicky can’t help his laugh.

“I gotta cover my bases!” He says and fully steps into the room.

“I don’t even know if I like anyone like that!” He squawks, a flush rising to his cheeks and this is why Nicky has to control his laughter whenever someone says that FF seems like a chill guy.

“That’s why I was covering ALL of them!” Nicky teases unable to stop the laughter that bubbles up from his voice as he takes a seat next to his friend, “You feeling better? That must have been scary with Ichirou.” He says gently.

FF looks at Nicky, “It was.” He says, “I just…I hope I didn’t upset him in any way and make things hard for Captain Neil.” He looks at Nicky who is already shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about that. He seemed,” Nicky thinks back to Ichirou’s expression as he called FF ‘bright’, “pleased. Did he say anything to you about like a deal with Neil?” He asks.

“Not really, I just…he offered a reward and I told him to give it to Captain Neil. I can’t imagine how he was handling those kind of men being after him. I thought he deserved it more than I do.” FF says expression worried, “You really think it’s okay not to worry?” He asks.

Nicky could just eat him up.

He knows FF’s family aside from his grandma is a complete write off, maybe Erik and him could discuss adoption.

FF’s his anyways.

“Yeah, you did great Smithy. Don’t you worry about a thing other than what Kevin might be trying to sneak into your food.” He pats FF’s cheek.

“Yeah, it’s too early for protein powder is what Gran said.” FF nods as if it being too early in his recovery for the vanilla protein powder in his chicken broth was the singular issue.

Nicky decides to not pursue that further, if for nothing other than his own sanity.

“The others won’t bother you about Ichirou anymore or if they do I’ll stop them. Can they come back in?” Nicky asks.

FF doesn’t hesitate before he nods, “Yeah, sorry I just…thank you for having them step out. It would have been embarrassing for them to see me cry like I did.” He says.

Nicky looks at the obvious signs that FF had cried but doesn’t offer to clean them off fully. He thinks that the sight of it will stop any further inclination to interrogate.

“Of course Smithy. If they start overwhelming you again I’ll kick them right back out.” He promises and he means it, Andrew could threaten and scowl all he wants.

FF is Nicky’s friend and Nicky is going to do right by him.

***

Nicky goes and gets Andrew, Aaron, and Captain Neil from where they were waiting.

“Where’s Kevin?” FF asks looking at the three shorter men.

“He went off with coach and your grandma. He wants to know about your recovery and probably irritate them into releasing you if only so they can get rid of him.” Aaron answers taking a seat next to Nicky. “How was the soup?” He asks.

“It was good, I was pretty hungry.” FF smiles at Aaron. They hadn’t had much conversation and in all honesty FF didn’t really know what their relationship was, if they were friends or just acquaintances but he wanted to believe it said something in favor of them being friends that Aaron was here at all visiting him.

“That’s good.” Aaron offers him a smile that looks weird on a face that is identical to Andrew’s in so many ways even if there are just tiny differences.

He chats with Nicky and Aaron about inane things. Aaron tells him about Kevin’s multiple clashes with the nutritionist, Nicky talks about how Aras baked the pie with the ingredients he’d gotten, and Captain Neil and Andrew remain silent in the chairs they had sat down in. Maybe they don’t want to talk to him other than getting information that Nicky has deemed ‘off the table’. Captain Neil keeps looking at his face, opening his mouth, and then shutting it.

Maybe they just don’t want to be friends anymore after he blew it with talking to Ichirou.

FF comforts himself that at least Nicky is his friend, Aaron seems to be friendly enough with him, Kevin cares enough about him as a player to want to find out about his recovery and that could be counted as a friend. He has a vague sense that he also made a friend along the way to the hospital but that might have just been the blood loss and shock.

Maybe the EMT was just being nice.

His Gran comes back with Coach Wymack and Kevin both of them bringing her in on their elbows for some reason. Kevin looks a little irritated but he smiles at Gran before she takes the seat left open for her at Nicky’s side. Coach Wymack lets him know that after a final check from the doctor he’ll be free to leave.

“Are…are you going back to Palmetto?” Captain Neil asks him as Coach Wymack and Kevin were taking their seats.

FF blinks.

“Yeah, why? Am I off the team?” He asks and is quite proud that his voice doesn’t shake when he asks. This will keep him from playing for the rest of the semester. It might be better for them to-

Captain Neil smiles and he sees Andrew’s shoulders loosen. “Of course you’re still on the team Smith. We’re keeping you.” He says reaching over and squeezing FF’s shoulder once before moving and sitting back and sharing a relieved look with Andrew who merely rolls his eyes.

“I told you he wasn’t going to go back home.” Andrew says in Russian.

“We made him cry.” Captain Neil says in the same language and it takes everything in FF to not go red in mortification. Oh god he thought he had escaped anyone realizing that he had sobbed like a baby to his Gran.

The mortification passes quickly when he realizes why Andrew and Captain Neil had been quiet. They had been worried he’d leave and maybe a part of that was that they’d be losing two players but…

He looks at Andrew’s relaxed body language now and knows that Andrew wouldn’t care about losing a member of the team the way Captain Neil might.

…but maybe it’s that they wanted him to stay.

The thought leaves him feeling the best he has in months.

***

Signing out of the hospital takes a lot of paperwork. There are plans being faxed over to Abby. There are follow-ups being scheduled at the hospital down in Palmetto. There are discussions about who will go get FF’s stuff from his dorm so that his stay at Abby’s can be more comfortable. There is also the fact that his Grandma has asked if she can take up the other guest room to help with his recovery.

It makes him happy and guilty all at the same time.

Eventually he’s in a wheelchair being pushed out by Nicky and loaded into the Maserati with Nicky, his Gran, Neil, and with Andrew at the wheel. He notices how Andrew’s hands are solidly on 10 and 2 and feels better even if he wishes he had asked for that medical coma.

It’s a quick trip to the cousin’s house to grab their stuff and load it into both Wymack and Andrew’s cars and then they’re on their way back to Palmetto.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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SO I’M AT THE MENTION LIMIT. 

Moving forward I’m going to put the people who want a ping in a separate post with a link to the new part. As always if your name is there, it’s spelled right, and you didn’t get a notification then it might be something in your settings.

#Fluent Freshman AU #Nicky is going to ride this wave to shore #He's feeling great #Oh were you the one that Smithy asked to see personally? #No #Okay then Andrew maybe you should let the PROFESSIONAL talk #Smith may not have been totally ready to leave the hospital #especially after his little walk #But the admin they spoke with is lunch buddies with the nutritionist #and that Nutritionist has given an exact description of the kid who keeps bothering him #'He looks like Kevin Day from that Exy sport but just SUPER irritating' #That gentleman who is escorting that sweet old lady sure does look like Kevin Day doesn't he #Ok lets sign this kid out #When the Admin asks if Kevin will leave if they sign Smith out Wymack says yes #'Ok let me expedite this. Where do I send the follow-up care instructions?' #Kevin is VERY offended but Aras pats his cheek and he's back in goo mode again #AFTG #AFTG AU #AFTG OC #Andreil #Nicky Hemmick #My Fics #FF - Pt. 31

[slasherholic]

(psst... did someone say Mikey whump? guys I think someone said Mikey whump…) 

Frisky February Prompt: Electricity~ (yes it’s 15 days too early shush)  @slashthedice

synopsis: Michael gets served up some nasty, nasty revenge by someone who really, really has it out for him.

warnings: torture in a medical setting, sexual assault, mikey has a bad time ok

foreword: the opinions expressed here by the POV character about certain sensitive topics in no way reflect my own beliefs <3

No Faith in Medicine | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The hospital corridor is long and grey and stretches onward toward a single bolted door, labeled by the rectangular sign hanging above it as Therapy Theater No. 5.

This deep within the bowels of the sanitarium, below the patient wards and the enrichment centers and the checkered courtyard, there is hardly any of the familiar clamour; so as you stride closer to the door the clack of your bootheels over the beige linoleum carries like thunder.

Smith’s Grove was never the sort of place you had pictured yourself ending up during all those sleepless nights studying for your Ph.D, and truthfully, you can’t stand it here. The deliberate blandness of the hospital, with its color palettes limited to inoffensive whites and blues and greys—meticulously designed so as not to provoke its residents—wears on you more than anything else.

You feel like you’re suffocating here; but it doesn’t matter.

This job was never about you to begin with. It was never about some commendable interest in the healing of troubled minds, either; oh-no. There are two-hundred-and-forty-nine permanent patients living inside these sound-proof walls, and while it may not be a very doctorly thing to admit, you don’t give a rat’s ass about two-hundred-and-forty-eight of them.

...and as for that last “troubled mind,” well…

The breezy summer afternoon that Michael Myers was sentenced to life imprisonment exists in your head as vividly as a snapshot picture.

Almost as vivid is your memory of the Halloween that a policeman had come knocking at your front door to inform you in a strictly-business-voice that your sister was found dead in her kitchen, her throat slit open from ear to ear.

You remember watching from your couch as the gavel came down and the judge ruled the man who had taken your sister’s life away as criminally insane—and not responsible for his actions on that fateful October night—and therefor not legally a candidate for the death penalty.

You remember the burning, frustrated tears streaming down your face, the shatter of glass as you hurled the remote at the television screen, and then sinking down in a heap on the floor and screaming until your lungs were raw and your voice was in tatters, because it wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair, wasn’t fair.

So when the news came out that Myers was to be transferred back to Smith’s Grove—hardly a forty minute commute from your own house—you had been out the door that very same day, speeding in your car down the highway, ready to accept any available position the Sanitarium would offer you for your credentials.

It had been your one shot at revenge on the sick, evil fucker who had ruined your happiness; and you were prepared to move heaven and earth just to bring Myers hell.

It had taken eight months before you even laid eyes on the man for the first time.

You’d landed yourself a patient therapy position, but only had the clearance to treat patients who fell under the “medium” and “high-risk” categories. In the entire hospital there were only two patients who fell under the third and final category: a spitting lunatic of a man, who couldn’t be safely approached without first being drugged half-asleep with antipsychotics...

...and Myers.

You had possessed the patience of a saint, climbing through promotion after promotion.

And the very minute that you were handed back a fresh copy of your I.D, now with a little red stamp at the bottom, the stamp that meant you were cleared to work with Myers, you had raced down to the front desk to file your recommendation for treatment.

Three days later, after hours of debriefing by Dr. Ashton, Myers’ new court-assigned psychiatrist, you came face to face with the worst criminal the sanitarium had ever known.

You had seen Myers’ face pictured in black and white on newspaper articles and in fuzzy low-definition on T.V. 

And absolutely none of that could have prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh.

The thing that had startled you most when you were led by Dr. Ashton into Michael’s barren, cramped room—the thing that practically had you reeling when your eyes fell on the motionless figure sitting on the cot in the corner, chained at the wrists and ankles by a metal link fastened to the floor—the thing you still despise yourself for thinking—

—is that Myers was jaw-droppingly, stunningly handsome.

His were the kind of ethereal good looks that you might expect to find in some renaissance painting, or a Grecian statue, or a fantasy book.

You had stood staring across the room at the motionless young man, drinking in all the features of his vacant, pretty face; overcome by complete and total disbelief that this was actually the person responsible for all your grief.

And the very next second, that disbelief was shattered like a dropped vase; when you looked into Myers’ stare.

It brought down the temperature in the room like a cold-snap. It was not directed at you, only at the floor, yet it had you shuddering anyway, had all the hairs on your arms standing straight up. It was not a lights-on-but-nobody-home sort of gaze, the kind you were expecting from how Myers had been described by his former psychiatrist. His face was blank, yes; that was accurate enough.

But his eyes, they were the furthest thing from it. 

Michael Myers had the eyes of a ruthless, calculating, viciously deliberate predator.

The longer you had stood there, gawking at Myers as if he were a tiger in a cage, hardly listening to Dr. Ashton’s rambling about his admiration of your interest in his patient’s treatment, the more you became aware of the charge crackling in the air; like the moment in a thunderstorm just before lightning rips through the sky. It was as if every fiber in your body could sense the danger radiating from this man; you could all but see and smell the invisible blood staining his hands.

It had turned your vision into a seething cloud of red. 

Here was a murderer—the worst kind of murderer, who was perfectly, undoubtedly aware of his crimes, a fact you could tell from just his eyes—who carried in his heart not a single shred of remorse for the lives he’d ripped away. Who, when he was unable to kill, had resigned himself to sitting and anticipating the day when he might once again have his hands around a warm throat, the day when he would pick right back up where he left off and take another life as carelessly and thoughtlessly as one snuffing out a candle.

And this man had been allowed to keep breathing.

You think of all these things as you reach the end of the corridor and swipe your I.D card on the door to Therapy Theater No.5. Hidden locking mechanisms whirr and click open.

You place your hand around the cool metal handle. For a moment, you just stand there. Feeling your pounding heart in your chest.

It pounds not because you are fearful; you don’t care if you get caught because of what you are about to do. You don’t care if you get fired, or if you get your license taken away, or even if you go to jail. Those are the most trivial, unimportant things in the world. No. Your heart does not pound for those reasons.

It pounds because, finally, there will be justice.

Finally, the evil son-of-a-bitch who slaughtered your sister is getting what he deserved all along.

And you get to be the one to flip the switch.

You turn the door handle and step into the room.

Therapy Theater No.5 is bathed in bright fluorescent light and smells strongly of antiseptic and sterilization. Three people are already in the room: two armed guards, who nod in acknowledgment at you when you enter.

And laid out at the center across a white padded table, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown, strapped tightly down at the wrists and ankles by hospital-grade cuffs, looking up at the ceiling as if utterly uncaring, motionless save for the rise and fall of his ribs—Myers.

A nurse had come in before you to prepare the room for treatment. The therapy you’re meant to be administering is simple and painless: electrodes are fixed to the patient’s body and a weak electrical current is passed through, stimulating choice muscle groups—and in more recent cases, even parts of the brain.

You had emphasized that part specifically in your pitch of the therapy to Dr. Ashton, referencing a study which showed how violent tendencies could be soothed in patients who underwent the treatment.

And no, you’d reassured him, it was nothing like electroconvulsive therapy.

The electrical current used in E.S.T is never strong enough to induce seizures. The only thing the subject feels is a mild, if not pleasant, buzz...

·…or at least that’s how it’s meant to be administered.

Tampering with the wattage of the machine had turned out to be laughably easy. A few snipped wires here, a few crunched numbers there, and now the bulky device sitting atop the roll-around table beside your “patient” can deliver a shock nastier than a taser with every throw of the switch.

It’s not strong enough to stop a human heart (god, you wish.) But it is enough to make Myers hurt.

Enough to make him writhe on that table.

Maybe even enough to make the heartless bastard feel something for a change.

You thank the guards before dismissing them. They leave the room but you know they won’t go far; no further than right outside in the hall, waiting through the entire session with their hands on their batons in case Myers gets out of hand.

Their security would be a welcome thing, if you were actually about to /treat/ Myers instead of torturing the living daylights out of him. But now, the guards are just another problem in need of a solution.

Though you are almost confident that Myers will retain his silence throughout the ordeal—that he’ll uphold his veil of distance and aloofness and total lack of care with the stubbornness of an ass—you’re not about to bet your shot at justice on it.

That’s what the ball gag in your coat pocket is for.

Reaching down to check that it is still there, excitement swells in your belly as your fingers graze the black silicone.

On the table, Myers is still motionless. He doesn’t tilt his head to regard you. He pays you no attention at all, in fact, as if you aren’t even there to begin with. Never do his steely eyes move from their fixed place on the ceiling light hanging above him.

As you walk up to the roll-around table, plucking a pair of latex gloves from a box stashed on the shelf beneath before snapping them curtly on, for a reason that you can’t put into words, you find yourself hesitating to look Myers in the face.

It doesn’t matter that he’s restrained; it doesn’t matter that there are two armed and capable guards standing watch right outside. Despite both these things, that vitriolic, charged aura you had felt in his cell still surrounds him now, polluting the room, hanging like a storm cloud over your head. 

It’s as if some submissive animal instinct has gripped your brain and now screams warnings at you: Predator. Danger. Don’t look it in the eye. Don’t provoke it.

You do your damndest to dismiss the feeling as nerves.

In a little white tray next to the E.S.T machine sits a filled syringe; a sedative. Dr. Ashton has insisted on it to better ensure your safety, as well as Myers’ cooperation. In the psychiatrist’s exact words:

“These days Michael is, ah, fussier about this kind of treatment—you know, the kind they gotta bring in the guards for, the needles, the cuffs, the whole nine-yards. 

It’s a theory of mine that, after living with the sort of power Michael did, the loss of his own control doesn’t sit as nicely anymore. He doesn’t like it. And he’s not afraid to let us know just how much he doesn’t like it.”

Fussy. That was the word Ashton had used to describe Myers. 

It had taken every shred of self-control you possessed not to scoff in the Doctor’s face at that; as if the man laid out before you now were some sort of stubborn, overgrown toddler, and not a remorseless, murderous psychopath.

You don’t spare the sedative a second glance as you unravel the bundle of wires and nodes connected to the E.S.T machine; Myers is going to be awake to feel every goddamned second of what you do to him.

Only after you’re finished with him will you finally send him under.

You can picture the conversation with Ashton now: Yes sir, the sedative worked like a charm, he was out like a light the entire time; no sir, no complications at all.

You take your time setting up the machine because you’re still hesitant to even look at Myers, let alone touch him. But when the wires are all connected, the red power button flashing idly in standby, there is nothing left to do except attach the electrodes.

You force yourself to look him in the face as you approach. You should not be afraid of this man; you should resent him, should despise him, but should not fear him. He doesn’t deserve to hold that sort of power over you, or anyone else, ever again.

So you look.

Michael is still watching the ceiling. According to his eyes, he does not acknowledge you.

But just from how the hair on your nape stands on end you know you’re being watched.

Myers is regarding you coolly in his periphery with the curiosity of a feline, feigning detachment and disinterest; but the weight and pressure of that penetrating gaze could not be more obvious if it were a ton of bricks coming right down on your head.

With a deep breath to rein in your resolve, you reach down, your fingers working to undo the first knot on Myers’ hospital gown.

Quickly, you discover that it is one thing to look at Myers; to feel for yourself his ruthless awareness, the raw intensity of his presence.

But to touch him is another thing altogether.

He draws a breath of his own as you fidget with his gown, his strong rib cage expanding beneath your fingers. You shudder at the sudden pressure of his body; whether out of disgust, or anger, or some fucked up fascination, you aren’t sure.

After undoing the ties on both sides, you lift the front of his gown up and off—

—and find that Myers is totally naked underneath.

Standard hospital procedure for a therapy like this one. Nothing new.

But it’s different when the patient looks like this.

You hate yourself for ogling him. You detest the way your eyes rove across Myers’ body, lingering on all the features that your lizard-brain decides it likes; from the stark tendons in his neck to his sharp and angular collarbones, from his broad, rounded shoulders to the beautiful definition in his abdomen, and down even further than that before you can stop yourself.

To the V of his obliques—to the trail of curly brown pubic hair on his pelvis—and all the way down to his flaccid penis.

You snatch a towel from the roll-around and drape it hurriedly over his hips. Not for the sake of his modesty; just so you don’t have to worry about your eyes straying down to the cock of the man who murdered your sister.

As far as the placement of the electrodes on his body, you honestly haven’t given it much thought. It seemed like the sort of thing that would come to you like an epiphany, as if suddenly, in the moment, you would know exactly where to hit Myers to really make him suffer.

But no such epiphany comes. Oh well; you have an hour to experiment.

Grabbing the two nodes off their holders, you run the wires across his chest and press the little round circles down flat against his pectorals.

When your gloved fingers graze Myers’ skin you nearly jerk back your hand, startled. The man is hot like a stove.

Your medical fascination is instantly piqued—Myers must have the hottest resting body temperature you’ve ever encountered. You have to force away intrusive thoughts of sticking a thermometer in his mouth to see that number for yourself.

Focus.

Tugging up on the wires, you test the integrity of the node’s suction. They don’t budge from his chest, lifting his skin with them as you pull. Perfect; It’s nearly time. 

Now for the gag.

You just have to cross your fingers and pray that you can actually get it in his mouth.

Looking Myers in the face a third time proves to be no less jarring than it had been the second or the first. You’re just relieved that even after all your poking and prodding he is still pretending not to be interested in you, or in the things you’re doing to his body.

You clear your throat before speaking to him because you don’t trust it enough not to crack.

“Open up,” you command him, mustering every authoritative bone in your body and sounding very official even to your own ears.

Removing the gag from your pocket, you hold it up as if to show him, taking care to conceal the black silicone ball with your hand.

“Mouthguard.”

You doubt that Myers has seen this sort of gag before. Or that he even knows what a gag is. Still, you’re not taking that risk. If this doesn’t work then you’re going to have to drug him just to get the damn thing in place, then wait for him to sober up again—a colossal waste of time.

For a tense second, Myers does not respond to your command. He just lays there on the table, inhaling and exhaling, looking incredibly bored with you, with his nakedness, with the electrodes strapped to his chest.

Your jaw goes tense. You nearly repeat yourself.

But then, he opens up his mouth.

Beneath the harsh overhead lighting his teeth gleam wetly. You suspect immediately that he’s going to try and bite your fingers off the second you get too close.

Game on, fucker. 

From the shelf below the roll-around you snatch up a small blotting rag. Walking around to stand at the head of the table, you gaze down at Myers again.

“The strap goes underneath.” You inform him. “I need you to lift your head up.”

He does.

And you strike. Faster than you had thought yourself capable.

You drape the rag over his eyes so that he can’t see what’s coming. Thrusting the gag hard into his open mouth, you wedge it firmly between his teeth. In the corner of the room, Myers’ heart monitor spikes suddenly, the electronic beeping speeding up momentarily—a sound that has you beaming with pride.

You’ve actually managed to startle him.

As you clip the strap into place around the back of his head, a strange sense of accomplishment floods your body—you’ve done it. You’ve actually done it. Everything is ready. 

Every sacrifice you’ve made in these past eight months, every hour spent in this godforsaken hellhole, it was all worth it just to bring about this single moment.

The moment is made only sweeter when you rip the rag away from Myers’ face.

Oh. Now you have his attention.

Those pale eyes are looking straight up at you. Considering you with the cutting gaze of a hawk. Working out the situation. 

You glare right back down at him. You stare deep into his eyes, the triumphant fire now raging in your chest burning hotter than the ice in his stare, more furiously than all the danger—and you find that you are not afraid of him anymore. Like this, Myers is nothing. He’s not a boogeyman. Not a phantom. He’s just a man—stripped of all his mysticism. Strapped to a table. Naked. Gagged.

Powerless.

Just as powerless to stop what you’re about to do to him as each and every one of the people whose lives he took away.

“Hello, Michael.” You hold his fierce eye-contact as you speak. “Ten months ago you broke into my sister’s house and murdered her.”

Myers doesn’t blink. But neither do you.

“When they tried you, you were supposed to leave that courtroom a dead man walking; you were supposed to die. That's how our justice system works—when you do the things you did, you don’t get to keep on living.”

Nothing changes on Myers’ face as you speak. Nothing changes in his eyes. Not one molecule in his body has an atom of care to give about the words you’re saying. He breathes around the gag, his heart monitor beeping slow and steady.

“I don’t give a single fuck about what that judge said,” You continue. “And I don’t care how sick in the head you really are. You knew exactly what you were doing that night. I can see it in your eyes, Myers—you loved every fucking second of it. And that’s the only thing that matters.”

You draw a long breath. One that you hold in your lungs before letting slowly out again.

“You’re the evilest son-of-a-bitch on this entire fucking planet; and you deserve to die.”

Walking over to the E.S.T machine, fighting back with tooth and claw against furious tears now threatening your eyes, you place your finger over the power switch.

Myers watches you; and you notice something flicker to life in his glacial eyes. Not an emotion. Just a realization.

Good. He understands now. He understands what you’re about to do to him.

“Someone has to make you pay. Someone has to.”

Michael just stares. Watching you. Watching your finger on the switch. His pulse on the monitor ticks as leisurely as if he were about to fall asleep.

“And guess what, you sick fuck?”

Still staring—not blinking—breaths coming slowly.

“I’m so fucking happy that it’s me.”

You throw the switch—

—the wires crackle with live electricity—

—and all of Myers’ deliberate, calculated control is shattered like a dropped glass.

His body seizes. His eyes snap shut. His fingers curl into fists that turn his knuckles whiter than the table beneath him. The tendons in his neck and forearms jump out, straining beneath his skin. His heart monitor beats erratically, the little green line on the screen spiking sharply, racing out of control.

Your eyes are glued to the grisly scene. You devour each and every involuntary reaction, relishing in the complete and utter breakdown of his control.

Fifteen gorgeous seconds pass before you remember that you were supposed to be counting to ten. Whoops. You might be frying his brain into an unfeeling stupor at this point. You flip the switch off in an instant because you need him awake, aware.

Myers’ back falls flat against the table, the current cutting off as abruptly as it began. The muscles in his chest continue to contract and seize beneath his skin long after the electricity is gone; you count the spasms as they tear through his pectorals like sets of waves.

When the spasming stops, his chest heaves up and down, winded. His breaths around the gag come heavily. His eyes are still shut; but no longer are they /squeezed/ shut.

For a moment, you really think that he’s passed out.

Then his eyes twitch beneath their lids and flutter open again. Blinking. Focusing—

—flitting right back on your face. Right back to the spot where he had left them before the current forced them shut.

Myers’ eyes are devoid of care. He is entirely unperturbed by what has just happened to him; entirely unthreatened. But now, that murderous intent—the charge which until now you’d only felt in the air around him—is written in his stare as plain as day.

I am going to kill you, says Michael’s gaze, as nonchalant as if he were stating some trivial fact about the universe, like water is wet, or the sky is blue.

It makes your blood boil.

Adding insult to injury, the speed at which Myers regains control of his body is nothing short of infuriating. You fume as you watch the way his breaths level out again, the beeping from his heart monitor falling back into the former slow, rhythmic pace.

You feel as though you should say something to him; like you should retaliate to this defiance in some way that isn’t staring, because you’ve already lost that battle; you cannot possibly hope to match the severity of Myers’ gaze.

But you don’t.

In your heart of hearts you know that your words will go right through his skull, unheard. There is only one language that Myers understands; only one language that he can comprehend down to his marrow. So you’ll speak it to him.

Without wasting another breath, your fingers find the power switch again. And those defiant eyes of his snap shut a second time.

When you shut the current off the results are the same as before; Myers is heaving on the table. But he takes back his control just as quickly, his stoicism prevailing.

By the third time however, his breaths have begun to linger in their heaviness—

—by the fourth he draws them as shallow as a winded sprinter running a race—

—by the fifth, the intervals between the violent seizing-up of his body are too brief for him to catch his breath—

—and the way he now gasps around the obstructing gag, fighting and failing to suck in air past its silicone, his nostrils flaring rapidly to compensate, is the most beautiful display of desperation that you have ever witnessed.

The sixth time you throw the switch, Myers actually does pass out.

When the current stops his body loses its tension with the abruptness of a cut wire. You wait impatiently for him to open his eyes again with your finger lingering over the switch, preparing to meet that steely gaze with another brutal jolt of electricity.

You wait; and Myers’ heart monitor chugs away like a freight train going up a hill.

Still waiting… waiting...

...and nothing happens. Myers is out cold.

The contentment now pulsing through your veins is what you imagine a shot of heroin feels like. Snapping on a fresh pair of gloves, you walk up to the side of the table to admire your work.

The first thing you notice is the sweat. Myers’ body is drenched in it. It beads up on his chest and clavicle, on his biceps and shoulders, on his brow and cheeks, the skin there flushing a shade of stark, exhausted pink. Gorgeous.

Your eyes travel down his body to continue the examination; you stop at his hands.

Myers’ hands are bloody.

Crescent-shaped cuts litter the skin of his palms, marking the place where his own blunt fingernails had dug in uncontrollably, over and over and over again. The fresh blood streaks in little rivulets down his hands and pools on the white padding of the table beneath. 

You chew the inside of your lip as you stare at the mess; these cuts might be tricky to explain away. You’ll have to gauze them and tell Dr. Ashton that his patient did it to himself; maybe recommend that he be switched to a higher Thorazine dosage to really sell the lie.

Luckily, that’s a problem for the future. As for right now, you’re rather enjoying the irony of Myers’ own blood staining his hands for a change.

The inspection continues. Further down his body, you finally notice it; the bulge beneath the towel strewn across his pelvis. 

Oh my god, he isn’t. You think, lifting the side of the towel for a peek.

And oh my god, he is.

Rather frustratingly, just like the rest of him, Myers is pretty down here, too. Pretty and big. Which is not a compliment, you reassure yourself. Just a medical observation. You let yourself stare this time, because you’re not ashamed anymore. You’re not threatened by the notion of admiring Myers’ physiology anymore.

Not when he’s so completely at your mercy.

Somehow, Myers doesn’t seem to be the masochistic type, so you highly doubt that actual arousal is responsible for this. Sheer adrenaline coupled with his frantically pumping heart are probably to blame, his brain mixing and misinterpreting the signals, resulting in this little accident.

The longer you stare down at the “accident,” the more you find yourself wondering what Myers would look like fully-erect.

You cannot rip the electrodes off his chest fast enough. Plucking the towel from waist and discarding it on the floor, you stick the two nodes down flat against his obliques, then hurry to rig up a third. That one you plant just above his penis; as close to its base as the curly dark hair will allow.

You stand with your finger ready on the go-button again, opting to let Myers’ still-racing pulse dip out of the red before you pull the trigger and plunge him back into hell. Bloodied hands you can explain away, but cardiac arrest? Not so much.

The beeping slows. The green lines on the monitor settle. You throw the switch.

Myers’ pelvis bucks uncontrollably up from the table—

—and he grunts.

The sound makes your heart sing. It is muffled by the gag, low and reverberating, not very loud to begin with. Most definitely not on purpose; just a reaction that’s managed to slip through while his barriers are down.

Myers’ groin is still quivering when you cut the current off. His cock stands upright, stiff and swollen, totally erect. A line of saliva now dribbles down the side of his mouth, trickling between the gag, collecting in a shimmering mess on his shoulder. He blinks sluggishly up at the ceiling light as if transfixed; still dazed, you would guess.

Something twisted occurs to you as you drink in the scene. Something that you can’t deny.

Seeing Myers like this—fighting for his very consciousness, struggling to retain some sliver of control—is the single most arousing thing you have ever witnessed. You want nothing more in the entire world than to climb onto this dangerous, wounded man’s hips and claim him. 

You want nothing more than to give him a taste of what true powerlessness feels like.

It’s a lovely fantasy, a beautiful temptation, and a real shame that it can’t happen. You don’t feel like getting knocked up with the child of your sister’s murderer today; or ever, for that matter. Instead, you think you’ll make a game out of guessing how many more shocks will have Myers coming on his own thighs.

Striding up to the head of the table again, you plant your arms on either side of his shoulders, leaning over him, hardly ten inches from his face.

“Looks painful Myers.” You jest. “How about I make you a deal?”

Michael looks up at you. Unfocused. Blinking slowly.

“I flip the switch,” you continue,

“—and I keep it flipped until you’re covered in your own semen, and after that I jam a needle in your arm, pump you full of drugs, and you get to live out your next eight hours as an unfeeling fucking vegetable. Fair?”

You wait for Myers to do something. For your words to register in his brain. For some flicker of a response to let you know that he’s even still in there.

To your immense disappointment, Myers does nothing. Absolutely nothing. He just...

...well, you can’t even call it staring anymore.

He doesn’t seem able to manage that sort of focus, you realize, inspecting his face closer. His eyes are alarmingly barren; there really isn’t much of anything there, now. None of the ruthlessness, none of that predatory awareness, none of the murder.

You’ve actually shocked the bastard totally, one-hundred-percent out of it.

Whoops.

Back at the roll-around, you snatch up a hand light. Returning to the table, you shine it in his eyes, assessing the damage. His functioning pupil is slow to dilate. Worryingly slow. You click the light off with a contemplative frown.

Half of your mind begs whatever force might be listening that this isn’t a passing affliction, that whatever damage that’s done is done. If the courts insist on keeping Myers alive, then maybe reducing his brains to soup is what it takes to keep him docile. To keep him from hurting another living thing ever again. You can only hope.

As much as you’d love to do so, electrocuting the living daylights out of him some more isn’t likely to bring Myers back to awareness; and the session is supposed to be over soon.

You glance at the clock on the wall—

—Shit. Very soon.

You need to find out right the fuck now if you’ve just rendered Dr. Ashton’s patient catatonic.

Walking around the side of the table, you take Myers’ swollen cock in your gloved hand—trying not to think about the fact that you’re jacking off a condemned murderer—and pump hard, stroking him all the way from the shaft to the swollen tip, squeezing the head, massaging your thumb over it, rubbing all the way back down again.

“Come on, asshole,” you spit. “That can’t be all the fight you’ve got.”

Myers’ hips jerk slightly up from the table as you touch him. Probably just an involuntary reaction. You’ll need him to do better than that. Stroking him faster, squeezing even harder, you pray that the friction of your latex glove against his cock feels just about as pleasant as a rug burn.

As you watch his vacant face like a hawk you see him begin to blink harder, his eyes squeezing shut, twitching beneath their lids, staying closed for a beat before opening up again, like he’s struggling to wake from a deep sleep. A much more deliberate motion; he’s coming back to it.

“Can you feel that? Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He breathes hard around the gag. His knees lurch up from the table, the cuffs around his ankles straining, holding him in place.

You give his cock another hard squeeze.

“Forget where you are Myers?”

His jaw goes absolutely rigid with tension.

Ah. He heard you that time. He’s back.

How unfortunate that his brain isn’t fried after all.

You can see it all coming back now as his eyes flit down, locking on your face, rebooting within him like a program on a script; the chilling intensity, the sharpness, all the things that had made your skin crawl in the days past. Despite the torture, nothing at all about Myers’ demeanor has changed.

“Welcome back.” You state dryly. “We aren’t done yet.”

As if to make your blood boil on purpose—as if the battered state of his body means less to him than dirt, as if he hasn’t spent the better part of the hour being brutally, mercilessly tortured by you—

—Myers just watches you. Damning you with his eyes alone to the same grisly demise as before.

An odd sense of something, not quite admiration, sparks in your gut. Looking into Myers’ eyes, there is one single thing that you are willing to give this monster credit for:

What sits before you is a creature that cannot be broken. One that will never be dissuaded from its primal, violent nature. To try it is an impossible task. You suspect that you could stand in this room for days, flipping the same switch, delivering the same current, knocking him to and from consciousness, and into all the states in-between.

And the result would never change. Not ever.

He’d still be looking at you with that same deadly stare. A stare as cold and sharp as the blade of a carving knife.

And it would only get more piercing.

And what a relief it is that your goal in the first place was never to break Myers,

just to bring the gates of hell down on his pretty, curly head.

And you have. You can hear it in every breath he takes; he’s struggling. Although he draws his inhales slowly, with mechanical control, the ragged wheezing in his chest is no longer possible for him to hide. Myers is hurting—he’s hurting bad.

As much as you would love to stay and twist the knife in even deeper, it's time to wrap things up. You’re all out of time.

Pulling the electrodes from his groin and thighs with one hand, you let two of the nodes dangle freely off the side of the table.

The third you stick against his cock.

“Count your lucky fucking stars that not everyone in the world is as heartless as you are.” You tell him, walking back around to the E.S.T machine.

Myers follows you with eyes the entire way, stone-faced, impassive. Like the fact that you’ve just fastened a live wire to his dick is about as boring to him as watching paint dry.

Flick goes the switch.

His back arches off the table like a bent bow. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing hard around the gag, tugging furiously at the cuffs, the muscles in his calves and biceps straining dangerously, pulling upwards with a brutish force that has table whining beneath him.

You’re transfixed as Michael comes. His mess shoots out in thick ropes, reaching further than you thought possible, coating the table, getting on his legs. The sheer power of his body is a stunning thing to witness. You keep the current running to milk him down to the very last drop.

When he stops coming, you power off the machine.

The node comes away from Michael’s skin in a “pop” that is all-too satisfying. Bundling all the wires and electrodes back into place on the machine you listen to the only measurable signs of the man’s distress; the tortured intake of his breaths, the elevated beeping of his heart monitor.

Then, picking up the needle from the little white tray, you cross back to Myers’ side.

The vein in his forearm is thick and pronounced and the needle slips in beautifully. You press slowly down on the plunger, grateful when he doesn’t try to yank his arm away, relieved when he accepts the drug without a struggle. He must be exhausted.

The sedative works its magic quickly. You pull up a stool and sit down beside him to watch.

The vitriol in his eyes begins to melt and soften. One by one his strained muscles are allowed to relax again, the tension ebbing away; from his jaw, his shoulders, his abdomen, his legs. The electronic beeping on the monitor slows and slows until its powerful rhythm beats steadily again.

Evidently, Michael has decided he isn’t ready to go under just yet. Though sleep pools in his eyelids he blinks it away, clinging in a death grip to his consciousness.

Just to leer at you. Just to picture in his mind the day he will have his hands around your throat; as if it is already set in stone. As if it is just a matter of when.

Then, Michael’s eyelids flutter—

—fighting to stay open, still staring—

—closing, for just a beat too long—

—lingering shut—

—staying shut.

You move to clean him up quickly. The gag comes out first. Lifting his head to unbuckle the strap, you tug out the black ball, letting his strained jaw fall shut again for the first time in an hour; then carelessly drop his head. It thunks satisfyingly as it comes down hard against the table. Glancing at the gag’s silicone, you notice the deep markings worn into it, perfect impressions of Myers’ top and bottom teeth. You almost shudder; a bite from him would have been nasty.

You blot away the drool dribbling down his chin and shoulder with a rag, and then move on.

The last thing you expect as you begin to clean Michael’s bloodied hands is the tears that spring to your eyes. Even with your fear of the man gone and buried, you wish that you didn’t have to touch these awful hands; let alone treat them, bandage them, heal them.

You wipe away the tears on your sleeve as you gather your supplies together on the roll-around.

Grabbing each of his wrists just above the restraint cuffs and turning them so that his palm is facing upward on the table, you hastily swab him down with alcohol pads, wiping up the clotting blood from his skin, squeezing out a blob of antiseptic from a tube to smear across his cuts. As you wrap Michael’s palms tightly in gauze you try your hardest to snuff out that invasive thought when it comes searing like a bullet through your skull—

—these are the hands that killed my sister.

You simply can’t afford to linger on those thoughts right now. Maybe when you’re at home tonight, alone in your bed, you will let yourself cry; but not now. Not while you still need to clean up after Myers’ unfortunate mishap.

Toweling him down from his forehead to his calves, you soak away the sweat. And the semen. Then, you fasten back up the front of his hospital gown, knotting each and every tie.

And just like that, the job is done.

You knock on the door. The guards come in and wheel Myers’ unconscious body out of the room.

The next day, you have a debriefing session with Dr. Ashton. You feed him your meticulously rehearsed lie: that the therapy went without a hiccup, that you firmly believe this treatment could be the key to alleviating Michael’s tendencies for violence.

The moron laps up your every word.

Ashton ends the session with a delightful little surprise; he’s pulled some strings to allow for Michael’s therapy to be carried out bi-weekly. He is so impressed by your drive to treat his patient that he’s offering you a position as Michael’s secondary caretaker. He only hopes that you’ll accept.

The smile you give him is bright and sincere, one that beams from ear to ear.

“Doctor, believe me when I say that nothing in the world would make me happier.”

#Michael Myers #Halloween #Slashers #michael myers x reader #writing

[tyravenholme]

Chapter 1: Unfortunate Timing

Author’s Note: Okay, so this is the first time I’ve done anything like this so please understand if things seem a little rough it’s because I’m trying something out that I’ve always wanted to, but just never had the confidence to really dive head first into writing fan fiction.

Some important notes to take into consideration about this piece, it follows entirely original characters set within the universe of My Hero Academia. I may allude to or mention characters like little Easter eggs from time to time, but they won’t be the focus of these stories. I also won’t be doing any NSFW type stuff because that really isn’t the type of stuff I write so don’t expect anything like that from me right now.

With that, I hope you enjoy this first chapter into what I hope will be a long fun story.

Chapter 1: Unfortunate Timing

For me, time moved how I wanted it to.

When everyone else was standing around and staring at the fight that was happening in front of them, I was watching the fuel of the piled up cars left behind by the villain pour out onto the ground. The villain had everyone’s attention, the heroes, the public, even me, but since I had more time to see what was happening, I could see that fuel.

And the fire that grew larger nearby.

“Take this!” The villain said and waved one heavy arm towards one of the heroes. Their hands dug deep into the concrete beneath them and hurled a handful of rocks in their direction. That hero was able to take the hits like they were nothing, and another with speed rushed to deflect the pieces with a sword that would have hit civilians.

“You people, move along, quickly now, so you don’t get hurt.” The sword bearing hero said.

The pool of fuel continued to grow. The fire inched ever closer to it. None of the heroes had noticed it.

Don’t get involved, I thought. Don’t do anything you shouldn’t. It’s not your business. Leave it to the professionals. They know what they’re doing.

Sometimes though, there are moments where you just can’t stand idly by. When I saw that child's face rise up in the back of the wrecked car, eyes tearing up, face covered in scratches, I just couldn’t stand it any more.

I let my quirk do its thing and cranked up the temporal factor to it’s absolute limit. Everyone around me was still moving, it just didn’t look like it to me at that point. I moved like I normally did, walked at a steady pace through the crowd and the chaos and made sure not to touch anyone as I did as I knew all too well what would happen if I bumped into anyone or anything when I moved at those speeds.

Improving my reflexes and perception time was not the only thing I could do. I wouldn’t have gotten closer to the cars had it been my only trick. I stood by the other car, the empty one, and hovered my hands over the hood where several sparks were in mid flight, almost like they were fireflies hovering in the air. I let my body return to the normal flow of time and slammed my hands down on the hood of the car, reversing the factor and imparting it onto it and everything connected to it.

That included the fuel at my feet that had just been ignited by the nearby fire.

“What the!” A hero appeared in front of me, standing at the other side of the car, surprised by my presence. “Where did you come from?” He rushed forward and was about to leap over the car.

“Stop! Don’t touch this car, you’ll get hurt.” I shouted. And they listened to my words, which was a surprise to me, “The fuel leaking from this car has just been ignited. I’m using my quirk to slow it down. Get everyone in the nearby vicinity to safety. The people in the other car also need to be evacuated. I can’t maintain my quirk in this fashion for very long, so please, hurry.”

I could already feel it, the strain of pushing my quirk to a factor this high. I needed to maintain concentration, long enough for the heroes not in the fight with the villain to do their job. Long enough until everyone was safe.

It was strange, and a little funny I guess, when I thought about it. I so desperately wanted that moment to pass me by so quickly, yet every second felt as slow as it did when I used my quirk on myself, but I wasn’t using it on myself, I was totally focused on the car and the fuel in front of me.

The heroes got the kid and her mother from the other car to safety. The people nearby were also moved along, though they weren’t being cooperative as many wanted to see the fight that was still ongoing behind me.

Ignoring the fight was easy when there were intense flames moving slowly towards where you stood. I realized I hadn’t thought of a way to escape once everyone was safe and I could let the explosion that was going to happen happen. The instant I removed my hand, that fire was rush towards me and the car and its fuel tank. Would I be able to switch the temporal factor fast enough, would I even be able to react fast enough.

I didn’t know, I had never tried, never had a reason to, I always took things at my own pace, this was the first time I was being pushed to take things at something else’s pace.

The same hero I first to before rushed up to me, avoiding contact with the car I was still holding onto

just I said he should. I could feel beads of cold sweat run down the side of my face. My body was shaking, the strain in my head had spread to every part of me and turn into a dull pain, a constant throb like it was being slow crushed under an intense weight.

“Are you all right?” The hero asked.

“No.” I could barely speak. I looked up to him, “I need your help.” I stammered every other word, but did my best to get them out quickly and consistently, all while maintain focus. “When I remove my hands, I don’t think I’ll be able to react quickly enough to avoid the explosion. In fact, I’m pretty confident I’ll just pass out once I do release my quirk.”

The hero nodded his head and his eyes darted around and took in the scene around us, “I’ll find someone with a speed based quirk, get you out of here when you let go of the car. Can you hold on until I do?” There was a look of concern and fear in their eyes, the eyes of a true hero.

I used what strength I had to nod my head and just the once.

The temperature was starting to rise within me, but whether that was due to me reaching some kind of limit or because of the fire at my feet, I wasn’t sure.

At some point, the fight had ended, the villain had been knocked unconscious and the heroes involved in stopping them had been informed of the new situation. One of them came to me while the others made sure nobody was within the blast radius.

“I understand you’re preventing this car from exploding.” The deep booming voice came from behind, and then stepping into my view, it was the big guy, the one who had held off against the villain the longest. “I may not be incredibly fast, but I can certainly take an explosion like it’s nothing.” He stood off to the side in such a way where it would only take him one step for him to get between me and the car. It seemed like he was ready to tackle me, line a line-backer ready to charge and shove me out of the way.

“Just tell me when you’re ready and I’ll take care of everything.” He said.

I nodded again and decided a simple countdown would be enough.

“3.” My head was getting faint.

“2.” My eyes started to get weak.

“1.” My words were slurred.

The strain in my head disappeared when I let go. The pain vanished and my whole felt like I had slipped into a nice cool bath. I could feel a hand on my chest push me and then something so loud my ears popped.

Then there was darkness, a deep black that stayed with me for a very long time. I was asleep, unconscious, my worst time of the day as it was always the slowest. Most people skip through their time of sleep, but not for me, I was aware for most of it.

It felt like hours had passed before I was able to open my eyes. That was far more than I was used to

The smell of the hospital was unmistakable. Everything had that clean bleached scent to it, almost like a swimming pool, but not nearly as intense.

“They said you’d wake up in a bit.” A voice said from one corner of the room I was in, and then the face of a suit popped into my field of view. They were about as generic as a government official could possibly get, combed brown hair, grey suit, forgettable face, the only interesting thing about them was their bright pink tie.

“What happened?” I said.

“You don’t remember?”

“I remember, just not what happened after when I fell unconscious.” I said sitting up with what little strength I had. I wondered just how long I was out this time as it had been a very, very long time since I had push my quirk to those limits.

The man with the pink tie smirked, “I guess that makes sense, but I had to ask anyway, just in case. My name is Rose, last name, not first. And you are unfortunately in some serious trouble, Oscar Smith.”

#my hero academia #mha #mha fanfiction #mha oc #mha fanfic #my hero academia fanfic #fanfic #oc #original characters #original story

[meteorite-aria]

OC Have you ever noticed that ARIA VULCAN from the MARVEL UNIVERSE looks a lot like LIZ GILLIES? But SHE also goes by METEORITE. Having the ability of PYROKINESIS AND FLIGHT sure makes them a force to be reckoned with. Rumour has it they are TWENTY EIGHT and is working as a FREELANCE ARTIST.

TW: Fire, Death, Gangs

Names are supposed to represent who you are, they are a title that your parents plan for you to go by for the rest of your life. Sometimes they chose names or sometimes they having meaning. They can change though, due to self discovery, or due to fear. Aria’s story is a story of names, changing and evolving throughout time.

Aria was born as Stella Davis, to William and Alexandra Davis, two renowned rocket scientist employed by NASA. They wanted nothing more than for their darling daughter to follow in their footsteps. And she tried, she really did. It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart enough, no she was pretty intelligent, she just didn’t have the same passions or desires. Her parents wanted to explore space and make space ships, she wanted to paint starry nights. She loved art, and she was quite good, but her parents couldn’t accept it. When she was getting ready to go to college, she decided she would leave, get a job somewhere, and save up for art school, but her parents had another proposition. If she went to the college by where they worked, which they pulled many of their future employees from, did a year in the aerospace department, and decided she hated it and still wanted to pursue art, they would pay for her to go to any art school of her choosing. She felt that is was an easy decision to make and took them up on their deal.

About 6 months in she was woken up in the middle of the night by her roommate and friend. Apparently a meteor that had crashed not to long ago had been given to the head of the aerospace department, after nasa had inspected it all they could. It was for the graduate students to look at, and do tests on. Her roommate wanted to try and sneak into the room where it was kept, just to see it. Stella would be lying if she had said she wasn’t intrigued, and agreed to help her friend. They snuck to the lab where it was held and saw the gigantic meteor. Stella felt drawn to it and began to walk towards it until she was right in front of it. When she reached out and touched it, the meteor exploded into bright flames, engulfing Stella inside.

The next thing Stella remembers was blinding bright lights. Stella woke up 2 months after the incident, in the hospital. Apparently she has quickly collapsed in the flames, and went into a coma. It didn’t make any sense to the doctors though. Her friend had told them they were just finding a place to study when she collapsed. She returned to her home, hoping for time to recover, but her parents wanted her to return as soon as possible, saying that she was too behind, that their daughter couldn’t be caught slacking. The argument continued to escalate, and in the heat of the moment her hands ignited into flames. Her parents were astonished at this display, and immediately rushed to start taking notes, attempting to call coworkers, muttering about the test they would need to run, finally a super powered human they could test. The more the talk continued, the larger the flames got and the more of her body they engulfed. She wasn’t going to just be some lab rat. No, she was terrified, she needed parents, not the scientist that stood before her. Soon the flames grew so large that they began to engulf curtains and the furniture. She was too far gone in her terror and rage to realize she had set her own house on Fire, leaving nothing but ash in the end. Stella panicked as the firemen arrived, and took off running, eventually finding herself in the air. She blindly took off in a random direction, hoping to escape what she had done. That was were the book closed for Stella Davis, and opened for Emma Smith.

Stella had flown all the way to Detroit from her home in Florida, before crash landing in an alleyway. She was found by a man who called himself Hawker. She said her name was Emma, Emma Smith. A generic enough name that there had to be plenty of others. She was taken in by Hawker, and his gang. They quickly found about her abilities, as she had no control over them, and often found herself igniting when stressed and frustrated. Instead of being scared though, hawker decided that she could be their secret weapon, an enforcer of sorts. If people didn’t want to pay up and tried to cross them, all they would have to do was send her in and she would handle it. She lived like this for almost 2 years until she got an assignment she refused to do. Up to this point she may have done a lot of property damage, and hurt a lot of bad people, but she never had been put in the position where she was asked to hurt innocents. But when a former member tried to rat the gang out to the cops, she was told to light his house up, as a warning. This was a common request. But she got there, and heard the loud laughter of children inside, there were bikes in the front yard. She got angry, and started to ignite, but instead of launching it at the house, attacked hawker, leaving him alive but severely burnt, before taking off once more.

Aria Vulcan is now her name, it is the name she has gone by for the past 7 years, since she landed in Chicago after Detroit. She met her two best friends, twins named Bella and Victor. They were the ones that helped get Aria back on her feet. They aren’t super powered, but are super smart and between the three of them, they helped her learn to control her powers, at least more than she had, they developed fire immune clothing, giving her the ability to practice with her abilities in things other than an old fireman’s suit. She was happy.

They were also the ones that convinced her to take up the name Meteorite, and become a hero for the city. Now she doesn’t ever see herself of a hero, more a vigilante/anti hero. She killed people, her own parents, you don’t see Captain America doing that do you? She wants to help though, to make up for what she had done.

She left Chicago to head to New York to protest the registration acts, and while she does plan to go back to Chicago eventually, especially now that everything is over, she hasn’t yet, and got herself a little apartment in New York, for the time being at least. She misses Chicago, and flies back to visit when she can, she just can’t help but feel like everything isn’t done just yet.

She is a freelance artist by day and vigilante by night, she has a fantastic art studio, and has an orange kitten named Supernova, Nova for short, and these days she finds herself happy, for the first time in years.

But yeah so that is kind of long, sorry, but basically Aria is

A freelance artist, so come hit her up if you want art work done, she mainly works in sculpting and water color, others tend to go up in flames if she gets too frustrated.

Her powers are Pyrokinesis and Flight. Her weaknesses though are that she can not create fire if she is wet, she just sizzles and steams, and she can’t create fire if she is anywhere where the air is thin, so she has to be careful how high she tries to fly. Her pyrokinesis is also attached to her emotions. She has learned to ignite on command, but if her emotions get too out of control she will end up singeing everything around her. 

She was against the registration acts, and went to New York to protest them.

If asked, she just says that she is a high school dropout. She did finally find someone to get her fake identification though.

She is a total superhero nerd, always following the exploits of heroes like the avengers (if she meets black widow or captain America she may die of excitement.) she tries to emulate them in what she does, but on a scale of thanos to Superman, she is a solid Deadpool. She had the right intentions usually, but knows that her way of doing things will end up with people, bad people, dying.

She is Ace. She figured that out in her earlier 20’s. She loves cuddles, and if she is in a bad mood, she will totally find any of her friends and do a snuggle fest. She isn’t repulsed, she just has no real interest in all that stuff. Why do it when you can make a blanket fort on the ground and watch movies.

Plots!!

So girl needs some friends, because even introverted hot heads need friends!

That being said, she had a horrible temper, and probably has a few people that just tick her off so much that she gets to her breaking point.

Still with the temper, I would love to have someone who would be willing to help her learn how to control her emotions, as her powers are triggered by passionate emotions, like anger or frustration.

Someone she had confided in about her past. She rarely ever talks about it, but I’m sure after a night of too many drinks or when her guilty conscious caught up with her she would let something spill.

Customers, she is a pretty great artist, and specializes in watercolor scenes and portraits, as well as small busts and statues.

Other vigilante/heroes she teams up with from time to time. She typically works solo, but will work together with others when she has too!

Big name heroes that she knows and is a little star struck when she meets them, because man she acts all tough, but she is a big nerd.

#thephoenixintro #aria intro #tw: fire #tw: death #tw: gangs

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

The Bodyguard

Chapter Ten

Master List  |  Bucky Barnes Master List

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC  I Word Count: 5212 Warnings: Fluff, Bucky being Bucky, smexy

This chapter brought to you care of @diinofayce through Coffee Updates. Thanks for your support, hun!

Bucky shuddered gently against Penny, while his mind whirled with her revelation. "You have to tell Steve.”

"I can't. Not just yet.”

"Penelope Grace," he growled against her neck.

"Bucky. Not just yet. I'll tell him when I've gone through all the options, but until that time, how can I place more stress on him? He's off saving the world. He doesn't need to be thinking about me while he's doing it.”

"Penny…” Bucky sighed and looked at her, but gave up when she gave him the stubborn face.

"I'm not giving up, Buck. I won't. I promise, but I have to do this my way.”

"Stubborn as a mule,” Bucky grumbled, tugging her close so he could rest his cheek on the top of Penny's head.

"Ma'am? Sorry to interrupt,” Friday said into the silence. "The detective is back, and he brought friends.”

Bucky growled a second time against Penny, far more feral and angrier than before. "What kind of friends?”

"Special Agent Julie Markov and Special Agent Anthony Barrow of the FBI, and his NYPD Captain, Ryan Harris.”

"Run all three.”

"Bucky.” Penny rested her head on his chest. "I'm too tired and worn out for this.”

"I know, baby girl. You head upstairs and get changed. I'll deal with them until you're ready.” He stroked her hair, then her cheek. “I'll even make you some tea.”

She smiled and nodded. "What will you tell them?”

"As close to the truth as I can. But I think it's better to let SHIELD deal with the money aspect. It's still Hydra. Regular cops aren't equipped to deal with them.

Penny winced. "Um, Buck? We need to talk about the money. I have something to tell you about… all that.”

"Pen?”

"Sergeant? The police are still requesting entrance,” Friday interrupted.

"Did you contact Tamara yet?” he asked, still staring at the fidgeting Penny.

"Miss Smith is on her way. She will be here as soon as she can.”

"Let them up,” Bucky muttered. "Talk fast, Penny.”

"I've been screwing with Hydra's finances for years, so even though they've stolen eighty-two million from me, I've cost them eleven times that much.”

"What!” he shouted.

"Through back channels and anonymous reports to the Attorney General, Miss Rogers has shut down numerous Hydra fronts, false charities, and exposed a number of high powered Hydra supporters. In total, Penelope has removed nine hundred forty-six million, three hundred twenty-seven thousand, four hundred eight dollars and twelve cents from Hydra's coffers,” Friday announced.

"Holy fuck!” Bucky bellowed. "That's motive to kill you, Penny! Why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier?”

"I didn't think it was relevant because they don't know it's me! I swear my trail is untraceable. I've been doing this as long as I've had Marquis, and everything is sent via hardcopy and flash drive to the AG's office. Not even a trace of DNA or a fingerprint left behind. I'm good at this, Bucky. Really good.”

"I want to see it. Your files. Your setup. All of it.”

"It's all in my lab at work.”

"Jesus, Penelope! Anyone could gain access to your damn lab!”

Her hands framed his face. "Shut up for one damn minute and listen!” She waited until he nodded before speaking. "Not my regular lab. My secret lab. The one beneath the building.”

"That's some fucking mad scientist crap, dollface,” he smirked when the shock wore off.

She breathed out a sigh and shot him a wink before returning her satchel of serum to the safe in the wall. “What more would you expect from a literal genius?” she snickered over her shoulder.

“Sergeant Barnes. The police will be arriving in sixty seconds.”

“On it, Friday.” Bucky took one more long look at Penny. “You okay, Pen?”

“Too much exertion today, but I'm steady now. I’ll be fine and down in a few minutes. Don’t shoot anyone unless you have too.”

He beat her to the doorway and took her by the waist. “No more secrets. What you know, I need to know. Promise?”

She tilted her chin up and looked him directly in the eyes. “That’s it. I swear.”

“I believe you, darlin’.” Ducking his head, he kissed her quickly, a swift mating of lips which didn’t last nearly long enough. “Go on,” he murmured when he lifted his head.

“I was going until you sidetracked my brain,” she grumbled, heading down the hall to the secondary set of stairs.

Bucky chuckled as he returned to the living room and took a quick look around. He had weapons stashed everywhere from behind the couch cushions to taped to the undersides of the tables and more in the kitchen. There were four of them coming, all armed, all trained. "Friday, can you turn the kettle on?"

"Of course, Sergeant."

He shook out his flesh arm and rolled the metal one hard, calibrating it from the shoulder down like Stark had shown him. “Give me the rundown, Friday.” Having not bothered to remove the Bluetooth from his ear, she spoke directly to him.

“Special Agent Julie Markov. She is a ten year veteran of the FBI, currently assigned to the Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch. In her years there she has been accredited with taking down a number of dirty business relating to drug or gang crime, as well as white-collar crime. If I had to guess, Penny’s attack and subsequent investigation by the IRS has caused them to launch an investigation of their own. Her partner, Special Agent Anthony Barrow, is an expert in white-collar crime and computer-based crime. It is perhaps better not to inform them of my presence. Knowing she employed an AI to compile the data on Taft will only cause them to collect a warrant so they may compile their own data apart from what I’ve already done, and poke their noses into parts of Marquis they have no business getting into. I have put together a file with all our relevant information, the reports submitted by Taft, and the real data, cross-referenced and correlated, along with the money trail from the subsidiaries Taft was using.”

“Thought we’d decided to leave it to SHIELD?” Bucky murmured when the door announced their arrival.

“Well, I only gave them the money as far as I could follow prior to Jarvis’ involvement. If we stonewall them, Sergeant, they will not let it go.”

“Tricky girl,” he chuckled.

“The Captain, Ryan Harris. I do not know why he is here,” Friday murmured. “His record is impeccable with only a few minor incidents in his beat cop days. It appears he had difficulty with authority.”

“Don’t we all.” This time, Bucky didn’t meet them at the door but off to one side, his gun in his hand. Once all four were out of the elevator, he stepped silently from the shadows with the weapon pointed at their heads. “That’s far enough.”

“Barnes!” McGilvery snarled. “You really want to get arrested, don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” Bucky muttered, “But there’s four of you and only one of little old me, so I’ll thank you to remove your service weapons slowly, and the backups, and place them on the table one at a time. You can pick them up on your way out.”

“Sergeant,” the woman took a step forward but froze when Bucky arched a brow. “My name is-”

“Special Agent Julie Markov. Ten year veteran with the FBI, CCRSB. I know who you are, ma’am. At the moment, I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re the President. You aren’t coming near Miss Rogers armed. Not after today.”

“We want to talk to you-” McGilvery started in.

“Do I look like I care at all about what you want, McGilvery? Last time you were here you made unfounded accusations in regards to Penelope. How was the phone call from Steve? That go well for you?” The first thing he’d done out of the shower was send in his report to Steve. Not all of it, of course, but enough, including McGilvery and his asinine comments.

Steve may have been flying over the Atlantic on his way to a mission, but nothing would stop him from coming to Penny’s defence. And when Captain America called, you picked up the damn phone. Bucky knew McGilvery had gotten an earful, likely Harris as well.

“That’s why I’m here, Sergeant. To offer my sincerest apologies to Miss Rogers and assure both of you Detective McGilvery will be on his best behaviour from here on out.”

“Fantastic. Weapons. On the table.”

“If you think I’m going to give up my gun because some washed out Avenger tells me to-��

“Barrow!” Markov snapped. “The Sergeant is well within his rights to ask us to remove our weapons. Miss Rogers has been put in mortal danger twice. As head of her security, it's understandable he’d be… distressed having four unknown and armed people anywhere near her.”

“Look at you go, doll. Got it in one. Weapons. Table. Then you can sit in the living room and ask your questions. Or you can get back on that elevator, and we can meet you at SHIELD’s New York office and conduct this interview under Director Fury’s watchful eye.”

Markov was the first to relent, pulling her service weapon from her hip and placing it on the table. She dropped into a slow crouch and added the ankle revolver before moving further into the room. “We can all be civilized, can’t we, gentlemen?”

Harris was second, his service weapon and back up landing beside Markov’s. McGilvery gave his up begrudgingly, but it was Barrow who crossed his arms and glared at Bucky.

“It’s not happening.”

“Then get out of my house.”

Bucky didn’t look; he didn’t need to. Penny’s oddly beating heart had betrayed her the moment she made her way down the hall to the top of the stairs.

“Miss Rogers, we’re FBI. Surely this isn’t necessary.” Barrow turned on the charm as Penny descended the stairs.

She’d changed out of the pink dress but was no less stunning in skinny jeans and a floaty white top covered by a grey sweater. The knot she’d worn in her hair had come loose in their mad run through the hospital, but she’d somehow managed to pile her wealth of blonde curls up on her head. Penny appeared casual, but there was no mistaking the quality of anything she had on.

Poised and polished, she stopped halfway down the stairs with her hand on the railing and let the ice queen out. If it was wrong getting a thrill watching her go cold on people, Bucky didn’t want to be right, because when her eyes went glacial, and her chin jacked up, it kicked him right in the balls with a hard shot of lust.

“I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England. You will remain unarmed in my home, or vacate it immediately. I have been blown up, shot at, and shot at again by people who were supposed to be some form of security or protection. Perhaps you can see why I am reluctant to have anyone enter my home with a weapon.”

Tall at six feet two inches, Barrow still had to tilt his head up to look Penny in the eyes. His skin had taken on a ruddy flush of anger, causing the pock marks from acne scars to surface white in the red. He thrust his hand through his shaggy mop of curling chestnut hair, but finally tugged his service weapon from beneath his arm, and crouched to remove the one at his ankle. Both landed with a thud on the table.

“And the one at your back,” Bucky said.

Narrowed eyes of sharp obsidian glared at him, but Barrow complied and added it to the pile. Bucky lowered his gun and returned it to the holster beneath his arm.

“Excellent. Now, we can finish, and you can all get the hell out.” Penny made her way down the final few stairs.

“If someone wanted you dead, Miss Rogers, removing their gun isn’t going to stop them,” Barrow stated, clearly angry as he stomped toward Penny.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Agent. You could try to hurt me, but that’s why he’s here. And if you think for one moment you could lay a hand on me while there was still a single breath left in the Sergeant’s body, well then, you’d most likely be dead. Right, Buck?”

“Right,” Bucky growled from directly behind Barrow who flinched a lot harder than McGilvery had.

“Damn,” Harris muttered. “He is quiet,” he said to McGilvery who only rolled his eyes.

Penny made her way into the kitchen where she turned off the boiling kettle - thank you Friday - and reached for a teapot made of glass. “Can I get anyone anything?” she asked, adding loose tea to the filter.

“Answers,” grumbled McGilvery.

“I’ll take a tea,” Markov spoke over him.

“Tea would be great,” Harris agreed.

“Coffee?” Barrow asked.

“Fresh out,” Bucky said, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

“Bucky. Don’t be an ass.” Penny shoved him in the ribs and stuck a cup beneath the fancy coffee maker of hers. “Strong, super strong, or stand a spoon in it, Agent…?”

“Barrow, ma’am. Special Agent Barrow and this is Special Agent Markov,” he motioned to his partner, “and the stronger, the better.”

She set the dial and walked away to place the teapot and three mugs on the island. “I’m assuming this is about the hospital today?”

“Among other things.” Markov sat on a stool at the island, clearly working to make Penny as comfortable as possible. “Miss Rogers, we don’t believe for a moment you have anything to do with the attack on you at your office or the one that took place today.”

“Ain’t that a relief.” Sarcasm laced Bucky’s voice.

“But we do believe someone is using your company to clean dirty money.”

Penny nodded, not bothering to look at any of them. “And why would you think that?”

“Your profit and loss margins are out of sync,” Barrow said, eyeing Penny like she was fresh meat and he was a vulture.

Bucky plucked an apple from the bowl beside him and flicked a knife out of nothing he used to begin peeling it. He'd never seen four people come to attention so hard before and had to fight not to laugh.

“They’ve been taking bigger risks. Moving larger sums of money at one time and causing red flags to show across the board.” Markov frowned. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Penny. Wait for Tamara,” Bucky cautioned, the thin strip of red apple peel getting longer.

“She’s stuck in cross traffic, and as Agent Markov has already stated, I'm not a suspect,” Penny murmured, returning for Barrow’s coffee. “His name is Marcus Taft. He's been in charge of finances for my company since the beginning, and from what I’ve been able to piece together, he’s been washing money through my company since the beginning.”

“You didn’t think this information was relevant last night!” McGilvery snapped.

Penny’s head whipped up, and her eyes ran cold a second time. “Before last night I knew nothing about it!”

“McGilvery! Zip it!” Harris snapped. “My apologies, Miss Rogers for your poor treatment at the hands of my officer.”

She waved off his apology. “I care very little for the politics which happen within agencies, Captain, but I won’t tolerate being spoken to and blindsided like that a second time.” She tugged her phone from her back pocket, tapped a half dozen keys and swiped upward. All four of them beeped at roughly the same time. “That is everything you will need to charge Marcus Taft with money laundering, theft, and embezzlement. The financial statements go back ten years, since the beginning of my company, and I’ve followed the money as far as I can. You’ll have to work outward from there.”

Barrow was already scrolling through the document. “This is impossible! You couldn’t possibly compile all this data in one night!”

“Agent Barrow, I build and maintain the most complex set of computer servers in the world, rivalled only by those of Tony Stark. Yes, I assure you, I can put that together in such little time.”

The Duchess in her voice made Bucky's cock throb. He just wanted to pin her to the fridge and kiss the sass right out of her. When he finished peeling the apple, he set a single uniform width strip of apple peel on the counter and began to slice small sections off he ate from the blade.

“Why is some of this blacked out?” McGilvery asked, clearly trying to ignore Bucky and his knife.

Penny placed a jar of honey and a small bowl of sugar on the island. “The redacted files are Government contracts. I can guarantee none of you have security clearance that high.”

“I could get it if I needed it,” Markov muttered, still reading.

“No, Agent. You couldn’t. Not even Captain America has clearance to read those files. You certainly won't obtain clearance to know even the names of those contracts.” All four of them looked at her in surprise. “He may be my brother, but I sure as shit don’t tell him everything,” Penny smirked as she poured the tea.

“I’d like a chance to go over these with you, Miss Rogers,” Barrow said, continuing to scroll.

“That won’t be necessary. It’s all perfectly self-explanatory.”

“Is this the real reason behind the attack on you?” Harris asked. “Rather than the bogus story SHIELD fed us?”

“We suspect so,” Bucky answered when Penny glanced his way. “But can’t rule out a Steve connection until Taft is brought in and questioned.” He held out a piece of apple Penny plucked from the tip of his knife and ate without thought.

Harris shot McGilvery a look.

“I’ll call it in,” the Detective murmured and walked away to use his phone.

“We’re going to want first crack at him. We need to know who he’s been laundering the money for. Unless you figured that part out already?” Markov asked.

Penny shrugged. “Not so far.” She blinked innocently, sipping her tea. When the coffee maker beeped, she retrieved Barrow's cup.

The steely eye Markov observed her for a long moment, but Penny didn’t flinch. If he hadn't been able to hear the odd beat of her heart, Bucky would have assumed she was entirely honest.

“Hm,” Markov hummed. “Now, Sergeant. You want to tell us how you deflected three bullets with your arm?”

“Nope. SHIELD tech. Proprietary information. Clearance would have to come through them.”

She rolled her eyes, Barrow gritted his teeth, but Harris only grinned. It appeared the Captain was having a very good time getting out from behind his desk.

“If I do have questions about this,” Barrow pointed at his phone, “is it alright if I call?”

“If you must. Email is better. I’m good at multitasking,” Penny said, wandering toward Bucky. She leaned into him, hip cocked, and one knee bent to drink her tea. Bucky’s arm went possessively around her waist, solidifying the statement she was making. They were a team, and Bucky the only one of all of them she trusted.

Markov ran an appreciative eye over him before sending Penny a smirk and a nod. Evidently, the Special Agent approved.

“The men at the hospital were hired guns. Both had a reputation for collateral damage and more than two dozen confirmed kills to each of their names. No one is sad to see them go, but we’re going to have to get your statement of what happened,” Harris said.

“Can’t you just use the hospital’s security footage?” Penny asked.

“There are discrepancies in how it looks on film. Why did you stop before you exited the ER? How did you know to turn when you did? Where did your car come from to pick you up when, from what we could tell, you two were alone?”

Bucky scowled at McGilvery returning from his call. “You gonna ask if I’m in on it this time?”

“Are you?”

“Watch it, McGilvery. One day your mouth is gonna run, and you’ll find yourself with fewer teeth,” Bucky warned. “I’ve been a sniper a long ass time. You learn to listen to your instincts, and when the hair rises on the back of your neck, you make a tactical retreat until you figure out why. Something didn’t feel right when we made to leave out the front, so I changed the plan. When the guys who’d been milling around out front came at us with guns drawn, I fired back. Then I got Penny out of there as fast as possible.”

“Picking her up was just a bonus?”

He shifted his glare to Barrow. “Faster that way. She always wears these ankle-bustin’ shoes.”

“You opened fire in a crowded hospital. You could have missed.”

Back to McGilvery. “Like I said. Sniper. I don’t miss. Only one with more accuracy than me is the Hawk.”

“Hawkeye? Clint Barton?”

“Yeah. We done here?” Bucky looked to Markov who seemed to be running the show.

“How’d you move the car?”

“SHIELD tech. Classified.”

McGilvery’s lip curled up into a snarl. “Convenient.”

“We’re done here.” Markov pushed from her stool. “Thank you for the tea, Miss Rogers, and your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll be plugging that hole by cutting off access to those monetary channels as soon as you pick up Marcus,” Penny said, following them to toward the elevator.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you do that until we get in there and follow-”

Penny cut Barrow off with a raised hand. “And is the Bureau going to compensate me millions of dollars if I leave it open? I’m eighty-two million in the hole as it is these last ten years. You want me to leave those channels available you’d best be able to get me my money back.”

“Close the holes, Miss Rogers,” Markov nodded, returning her gun to her hip.

“Will do, Agent Markov.” Penny smiled at the Captain. “And thank you for coming, Captain. It’s allowed cooler heads to prevail.”

He shook her hand when she offered it. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

“Let’s hope the next time we cross paths it’s at the NYPD Gala.”

“Looking forward to your speech, Miss Rogers.”

“Penny, please,” she smiled. “Well, in a few weeks then.”

They collected their weapons as Bucky watched and got on the elevator. Once the doors closed, Penny sagged into him.

“Whoa, Pen. You okay?”

“Tired,” she sighed. “Need to lay down.”

“And call off Tamara.”

“Did that when I found out she was stuck in traffic. Better she isn’t around for the Marcus bits anyway.”

Bucky swept her up into his arms and took the stairs three at a time as he returned her to her bed. “Rest, Pen.”

“Mm,” she hummed, eyes already closed.

He covered her in her red blanket, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and quietly left the room. He and Friday had work to do. “You let me know if there’s any change in her heart, Friday.”

“Yes, Sergeant. And Sergeant?”

“Yeah, Friday?”

“I am… happy she told you the truth.”

“Now all we have to do is figure out a way to fix her.”

“I have accelerated my work with the artificial heart. Already I have had an increase of ten percent in my success rate when paired with Penny.”

“What’s your success rate at in total, Friday?” he asked, a smidge of hope filling him.

“... ten percent,” Friday whispered. “It is not as easy as it looks.”

“Considering it doesn’t look easy at all...” Bucky sighed, returning to Penny’s office. “Keep working at it. We’ve got to do something. Penny dying isn’t an option.”

“I agree. Sergeant?”

“What, Friday?” He pulled up the images of her original assailants. Something about their use compared to the two hitmen of today seemed… off to him.

“May I have a sample of your blood?”

Bucky froze, then slowly sat back to look at the wall. “Why?”

“I have a hypothesis.”

“Which is?”

“A hypothesis is-”

“I know what hypothesis means, Friday! What is it? Why do you want my blood?”

“I’d… prefer not to say. In case I am wrong.”

Bucky pulled a knife from his sleeve. “How much and where?”

***

Penny dreamed. She dreamed of a soft bed and a hard body beneath her hands. Of warm muscles and quiet moans.

She dreamed of Bucky's hands on her skin, calluses and metal. His lips were soft when she kissed him. They felt even softer moving down her throat and over her chest to pull at her nipple.

A moan escaped her lips. “James…” she sighed.

“Penny,” he whispered, his hands touching her everywhere.  Then his grip tightened, turned bruising.

"You sure grew up pretty,” hissed maliciously against her skin before sharp pain flooded her belly. When he lifted his head, he wasn't Bucky anymore.

Penny screamed herself awake.

“Pen!” Bucky rushed to her side, and she recoiled. “Easy, easy, Penny. It's just me. You're okay.”

He knelt at her bedside while Penny tried to catch her breath. “It wasn't you,” she whispered and threw her arms around him. “It wasn't you.”

“What wasn’t me, baby doll?” he asked, rubbing soothing circles on her back.

“The one who hurt me. I was dreaming of you, and then you were him…”

“Penny.”

“I want to not be afraid anymore. Just for one damn moment, can I not be afraid?” she sobbed.

“It's gonna work out, Pen. You'll see.”

“Will I?” she whispered. “I have six months to save my life. Six. I've spent so much time working to save everyone else; I haven't done any living.” She pushed away and wiped her eyes. “I wanted to travel. See the world. Visit Tokyo, Paris, London. Instead, I've worked myself into an early grave.”

“No!” Bucky took her by the shoulders. “Don't you dare give up!”

“I'm not! But what am I doing it for? What did I do all this,” she thrust a hand out, “for if I'm not enjoying it! No life. No relationships. I may as well be a damn computer for all the good it's doing me!”

“Then change it! Figure it out and change it! Fix your heart and take a fucking vacation! Hell, I'll take you to Paris if that's what you want, but you're not allowed to quit on me, Penny!”

A smirk twitched her lips. “You're gonna take me to Paris, Barnes?”

“Damn right.”

She arched a skeptical brow. “And what would you know of Paris?”

He rocked back on his heels and dragged Penny around so he knelt between her spread knees with her feet dangling from the side of the bed. It made her heart kick in excitement and breath hitch with the same.

“I've been a lot of places, Pen. I know what colour paints the sky over the Eiffel Tower at dawn. I know the Arc looks like it's made of butter at dusk. Like you could reach out and touch it, and it would melt beneath your palm. I've seen the glass of the Louvre's pyramid sparkle after the rain, and ate pastries and drank coffee from cafés along the Rue de Seine.”

“Bucky.” His eyes were like sapphires, dark with want and memories.

“There's a hotel, out of the way and off the tourist track, with the best beds I've ever slept in, piled with blankets and pillows. The windows all have these fragrant flower boxes and Evangeline who runs it waters them each day. She makes breakfast from croissants and mandolins, fruit and cheese, and fresh squeezed orange juice. There are eggs and sausage, bacon and fruit tarts with fresh cream.” Bucky's arms wrapped around her hips and drew her closer, intimately so until her legs were spread wide around his torso, and his face level with her suddenly aching breasts.

She swallowed thickly. “Evangeline, huh?”

“She's seventy if she's a day, with wrinkles and laugh lines, and a head full of curly white hair. I adore her. Learned French just for her.”

“You speak French?” Penny was astounded.

“Oui, et si la dame veut se lever du lit, le dîner peut être servi.”

She blinked at him for a moment before smiling. “Calling me a lady and serving me dinner? Look at you go, turning on the charm. And here you are enticing me out of bed instead of into it. I'm impressed.”

Bucky's arms tightened around her hips. “Darlin’,” he purred. “I assure you, I want you in bed just as bad, but I'm not gonna seduce you after you wake up from that kind of nightmare, especially when you need to eat. Your body's gotta fight ahead of it.”

“You know, you're kinda sweet when you want to be, Barnes,” she smiled and slid her hand through his hair.

A devilish look came into his sapphire eyes. “Baby girl, I can be sweet, or I can be sinful. You fix your heart, and I'll show you just how sinful.” He turned his head and closed his mouth unerringly around her nipple through the fabric of her shirt and bra, granted neither was overly thick, and scraped his teeth over it, making Penny gasp in shocked pleasure. “Then I'll take you to Paris and introduce you to Evangeline.”

He pushed to his feet and drew her up with him, holding her so she was pressed full length to his body without any hope of wiggling away.  When his teeth scraped her ear, she shivered, and a drum beat thudded in her womb.

“And then I'll show you just how soft and sexy the beds can be.” Bucky released her with a wink and sauntered out of the room. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

Penny sat with a thump and pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart raced, but it didn't feel laboured, only excited. He'd seduced her with words and barely a touch, given her an incentive to work toward, but Penny had never been a patient woman when it came to getting what she wanted.

And right now what she wanted most was more of the man whistling as he walked away. The reason she’d been hesitant in agreeing to anything this morning was because she didn’t want to hurt him when he found out the truth. But now he knew. He knew, and he still wanted her. He would be with her till the end, and clearly, he was offering her an incentive to work faster.

But what if she didn’t want to wait that long? What if she still ran out of time? What if this was her last chance to grab for a slice of happiness?

Penny let the sweater fall to the bed behind her. “Two can play that game, Barnes.”

Next Chapter

#the bodyguard #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction #avengers au

[hunterhey816]

Alex Smith

Alex Smith

Alex Smith Contract

Coming into this year, I think we could all agree that should Washington quarterback even step onto a football field during a game once again in his career, it would be an absolutely massive victory, and pretty much seal his victory in the race for NFL Comeback Player of the Year.

Mac is bad hotlinemac is bad. Redskins quarterback Alex Smith suffered a devastating leg injury in Week 11 of the 2018 NFL season, and he spent four weeks in the hospital battling an infection that required multiple surgeries. Dec 13, 2020 Washington Football Team quarterback Alex Smith exited Sunday's game against the San Francisco 49ers late in the first half with a right leg injury. He was replaced by backup Dwayne Haskins. Alex Smith Smith with Washington in 2020 No. 11 – Washington Football Team Position: Quarterback Personal information Born: (1984-05-07) May 7, 1984 (age 36) Bremerton, Washington Height: 6 ft 4 in (1.93 m) Weight: 215 lb (98 kg) Career information High school: Helix (La Mesa, California) College: Utah NFL Draft: 2005 Pick: 1 Career history San Francisco 49ers (2005 – 2012) Kansas City.

Well, not only did Smith play a single down, but he stood in as the QB for Washington for two full quarters against the Los Angeles Rams earlier this year, going 9-for-17 for 37 yards in the loss, while taking a total of six sacks. Luckily, the stats are far and away from what anyone was paying attention to, just happy with the fact that Smith could finally cap off his long and arduous comeback after a gruesome leg injury threatened both his career and his life. https://hunterhey816.tumblr.com/post/657250843579596801/best-vm-software-for-mac-redditsitevivid.

So now that Smith can successfully look back and know that he achieved what nobody ever thought he would, where does he go from here?

“Those are conversations for an offseason,” Smith said, via NBC Sports Washington. “For me, I love lacing up my cleats every single day. I love throwing the helmet on every single day. I’m having an amazing time. There’s a long time I didn’t think this was ever going to be remotely possible. I love going out there and competing and so for me about moving forward and getting better and getting ready to beat the Giants.”

Though Washington still has Dwayne Haskins on the roster, it is Smith who holds the QB2 spot, and should Kyle Allen be unable to play, No. 11 will be the one who takes the field. Whether or not he will try to earn a starting spot somewhere, or continue his role as a backup with Washington in the years to come is unclear, but that’s not something that Smith is worried about right now.

“I know you don’t want to hear that but certainly, there’s so much time in the offseason to obviously reflect and make those kinds of decisions and you leave that for that kind of time.”

© Geoff Burke-USA TODAY Sports Jul 25, 2019; Richmond, VA, USA; Injured Washington Redskins quarterback Alex Smith rides on a golf cart off the field after practice on day one of training camp at Bon Secours Washington Redskins Training Center. Mandatory Credit: Geoff Burke-USA TODAY Sports

Alex Smith has had numerous complications since he suffered a compound fracture in his leg back in 2018, but most people don’t realize just how difficult the road to recovery has been for the veteran quarterback. An upcoming documentary will give us a better — albeit terrifying — understanding of that.

ESPN’s “Project 11,” which will air on May 1, provides a detailed look at the gruesome injury Smith suffered while playing for the Washington Redskins two seasons ago. Smith’s doctors describe the injury as “warlike” in the documentary, and you’ll understand why when you see some of the footage of his leg. The clip below shows Smith explaining the origin behind some of his scars:

When @Redskins QB Alex Smith broke his leg in 2018, no one thought it would take 17 surgeries to fix. Here’s a look at #Project11pic.twitter.com/lwcj1l0fV6

— E60 (@E60) April 28, 2020

There’s content in the documentary that is far more gruesome, such as an image that shows Smith’s leg when he developed an infection four days after the injury. We won’t feature it, but you can see it here.

Alex Smith

Alex Smith Contract

Reports in the weeks following Smith’s injury indicated his career was in jeopardy, and now we see why. His injury was as bad as it gets, but the horrific details we heard previously are hard to grasp until you see the actual carnage.

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, February 1

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Conspiracy Exposed! White Supremacists Caused Capitol Riot 

Page 2: Friends of scandal-scarred Shia LaBeouf fear he is sliding off the rails now that galpal Margaret Qualley has suddenly dumped him and Shia feels deserted and completely alone since Margaret walked out on him and he was blindsided when the actress took off in the wake of abuse accusations by his past girlfriends and colleagues labeled him difficult -- Shia thought he could count on Margaret to be at his side while he defended himself but she’s been warned by friends and family he’s toxic in Hollywood and that staying with him could ruin her career 

Page 3: Siegfried Fischbacher’s sad last days have been full of tears and regret as the ailing entertainer prepares to be reunited in the afterlife with cherished partner Roy Horn -- the German-born illusionist has been fighting pancreatic cancer but after having a malignant tumor removed during a 12-hour surgery last month, Siegfried left the facility to die at Little Bavaria which is the Las Vegas home he long shared with Roy

Page 4: Angelina Jolie has been digging up dirt on ex-husband Brad Pitt’s pals in a desperate bid to get the upper hand in their toxic divorce war -- Angie and her team are still looking for whatever they can get on Brad but he’s so squeaky clean these days they’re turning their attention to the rockers and grungy types that he hangs with in L.A. and it’s all very twisted but Angie is willing to try anything at this point -- Angie and Brad’s custody battle is at a standstill with Angie refusing to budge with her demand for full custody of the kids while Brad wants more visitation rights -- Angie is likely to be barking up the wrong tree because Brad’s friends are sober clean-living types who have been a huge influence in helping him turn his life around but she’s leaving no stone unturned in this divorce fight 

* Consciously unconventional Gwyneth Paltrow and husband Brad Falchuk are taking mini-breaks to prove that absence makes the heart grow fonder -- the love is there but Gwyneth is suggesting they try mini-me breaks to keep the embers burning in their relationship and she believes separating from time to time will stir up the passion ad anticipation between them -- Gwyneth often slips off for short trips without Brad and feels no guilt or remorse for it and she encourages Brad to do the same and says it makes her miss him when he’s away

Page 5: Sandra Bullock has become buddies with Will Smith and wife Jada Pinkett Smith and is reaping the benefits of the longtime couple’s hard-earned advice and Sandra’s five-year romance with photographer Bryan Randall has never been better -- the new friendship blossomed after Sandra appeared on Jada’s Red Table Talk show to celebrate frontline workers during the pandemic and Sandra and Jada have gotten really close since then and Jada’s been giving Sandra tips about how to handle the highs and lows of a relationship and learning to appreciate her man 

Page 6: Newbie twosome Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles are already shopping for a love shack and they want to be with each other all the time and they both need permanent places to live because Olivia’s been staying at a temporary place and Harry’s been staying with friends and they both want someplace where they can be together in private -- Olivia wants two places which is one where she can be a mother to her kids with ex Jason Sudeikis but she also wants a love nest to share with Harry and they’ve been looking in the Pacific Palisades and Malibu areas because they’re in love but they don’t want to flaunt their relationship in front of her kids; Olivia has too much fondness and respect for Jason to do that

Page 7: Carrie Underwood and husband Mike Fisher have been gushing all over each other but they’ve worked 24/7 for months to avoid a divorce -- they had very real problems that stretched back years because Carrie was either working too hard in the recording studio or on the road or in their home gym and their issues never really got addressed head-on and they were even talking divorce but lockdown has done them both a world of good by forcing them to get to know each other all over again 

* Covidiot of the Week -- Bruce Willis got booted from a Los Angeles Rite Aid rather than put on a mask to protect his freaked-out fellow shoppers -- Bruce was wearing a bandana around his neck as he strolled the aisles of the pharmacy but he apparently lacked the strength to pull it up and over his nose and mouth because he refused to wear a mask and he walked out of the store leaving his intended purchases behind rather than respond to a manager’s plea to have some respect for other people 

Page 8: Love-starved Kelly Clarkson is having a little “Office” romance with one of the beloved sitcom’s former stars Craig Robinson -- a recent flirt-fest on Kelly’s chat show has left the newly single mother of two singing the comic actor’s praises to pals and he totally swept her off her feet and she thinks he’s cute and one of the funniest guys she’s ever met -- the mutual attraction between the two was immediate and obvious and she’s been reaching out to him on the phone and they’ve been continuing their funny and flirty repartee -- Kelly thinks he’s the perfect catch and wants to start 2021 off on the right foot after all the hell she’s going through in her divorce from Brandon Blackstock 

* Embattled Ellen DeGeneres has cooked up a new plan to save her troubled career and marriage: a baby -- last year was the toughest year of her life let alone her career and she’s hoping a baby may be the answer to all her problems -- it was hell at home for wife Portia de Rossi because Ellen was blasting her about anything and everything and Portia declared she had no intention of being Ellen’s personal punching bag and Ellen has now realized how harsh she had been on her spouse of 12 years and that’s when Ellen cooked up the concept of having a baby to bond over and Ellen is convinced that sharing a child will bring them closer together again and is willing to go the surrogate route to make it happen -- she also believes bringing a baby into her life will improve her image and it’s a can’t-lose scenario in her mind 

Page 9: Kelly Ripa is pushing pal Ryan Seacrest to find new romance online -- Ryan spent the holidays alone after being dumped by his on-off galpal Shayna Taylor but Kelly believes he can find lasting love with an age-appropriate partner -- Ryan is 46 and he’s dated some of the most beautiful women in the world but Kelly thinks he’d do a lot better if he looked for women closer to his age and Kelly has been pushing him to try a dating app like Raya which caters to a star-studded clientele -- Kelly has been happily married for 21 years and wants the same happiness for Ryan and she thinks he can find that by using an app where he can find a woman in his age bracket with similar interests and attitudes 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Malin Akerman hit the road on her bike in L.A., shirtless Justin Bieber hitting the shore in Hawaii, Good Morning America co-host Robin Roberts smoothed back her hairdo on the morning show set, Larsa Pippen posed on her Porsche outside her Miami mansion, dapper dresser Chris Pine shot scenes from the upcoming thriller All the Old Knives in London 

Page 11: Dustin Diamond has been hospitalized with searing pain and is undergoing tests to pin down the cause of the mystery ailment but he feared prognosis is cancer which is said to have a history of the disease in his family

* Carol Burnett is overjoyed her temporary guardianship of grandson Dylan Hamilton-West has been extended but remains heartbroken her troubled daughter Erin is not yet prepared to resume her role as a parent -- Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Deborah L. Christian extended the guardianship until November 30 and praised Carol and her husband Brian Miller saying that everything seems to be going along swimmingly -- the judge also ruled Erin will be allowed supervised weekly visits with Dylan 

* The house that tragic Glee star Naya Rivera shared with her son Josey in Los Feliz, California is up for sale for $2,695,000 -- Naya purchased the four-bedroom, three-bath home in May 2018 for $1,660,000 just a month before her divorce from Ryan Dorsey with whom she she shared custody of Josey 

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Katie Couric desperately hopes her guest host stint on Jeopardy! will turn into a full-time job replacing the late Alex Trebek -- it will be positioned that Katie is guest-hosting for a week but it’s actually an audition; all the upcoming Jeopardy! guest hosts are being tested out and depending on how they do and how the audience responds one of them will get the gig full-time -- the show is moving very carefully to replace Alex because they get one shot at this and if they hire the wrong person the show is over 

* Kathy Griffin won’t ever be able to mend fences with former BFF Anderson Cooper after she posted a gruesome image of Donald Trump’s decapitated head -- Anderson holds a grudge like no other and once you upset him it’s for life -- he isn’t rude and he’s not vindictive but he has zero interest in ever being friends with Kathy ever again 

* Image-obsessed Tom Cruise has boosted security since audiotapes were leaked of his meltdown on the Mission: Impossible set -- all phones and non-official recording devices have been banned from the set and Tom has become increasingly annoyed at anything being leaked from his closed set and he’s very controlling when it comes to his image and he’s upped his security to make sure a breach in protocol like that never happens again 

* Selling Sunset’s Christine Quinn glams it up for a photo shoot in Bel-Air (picture)

Page 13: Sylvester Stallone is ready to relinquish his title as Tinseltown’s reigning action champ to enjoy the final rounds of his heavyweight career at his new Florida mansion surrounded by his family -- he isn’t hanging up his gloves in the movie business just yet but is content to coast to the final bell at the $35 million West Palm Beach estate with Jennifer Flavin his wife of 23 years -- Sly’s been working his butt off for decades and he’s finally got the perfect place where they can settle down and host their children whenever they want a proper family gathering 

* Jennifer Garner hasn’t even moved into her $7.5 million home yet but she’s already installed a state-of-the-art security system to keep it safe -- the safety-conscious mom of three is building her Los Angeles dream home from scratch right around the corner from where she lived with ex-husband Ben Affleck and while the finishing touches aren’t complete she has made serious security arrangements like motion detectors and lights and safes and up to 20 surveillance cameras around the posh pad to keep intruders away from her and the children she shares with Ben: Violet, Seraphina and Samuel -- it’s costing her a fortune but she’ll spend whatever she needs to keep her family safe 

Page 14: Crime 

Page 15: Accused rapist Danny Masterson could be dumped by the Church of Scientology to protect its leader David Miscavige -- the Church of Scientology is not loyal to anyone but itself and it has no interest in its parishioners even Danny Masterson and if their leader is going to be exposed they will take out Danny in a heartbeat; he’d be excommunicated -- Masterson faces criminal charges he raped three women and he’s also battling a civil suit filed by four women who accuse him of rape and Scientology of intimidating them into silence and not reporting the crimes to police -- attorneys for the fourth woman Marie Bobette Riales are trying to serve a subpoena on Miscavige in a bid to expose the ruthless tactics used by Scientology to hide the twisted secrets of its celebrity members -- the controversial church will do anything including dumping Danny to prevent Miscavige from being dragged into court but if Scientology turns on Danny he could spill all their secrets on the stand 

Page 16: Hollywood kid Rumer Willis has rewarded herself for four years of sobriety with a plastic surgery tune-up -- in a photo she recently posted to Instagram her face appeared more streamlined and her new look is likely due to cosmetic enhancements 

* Nagging allegations that Kanye West is gay and had affairs with two male beauty gurus could not have come at a worse time for the troubled rapper -- Kanye is furious at the salacious accusations just as his marriage to Kim Kardashian is hanging by a thread and although Kanye is far from homophobic but the last thing he needs right now is to try and fight off rumors about his sexuality just when he’s desperate to save his marriage and he thinks the accusers are just trying to capitalize on his current problems and trying to crush any hope he has of staying together with Kim -- TikTok influencer Ava Louise dropped the first bomb in early January when she claimed Kanye slept with male YouTuber Jeffree Star and that it played a role in the current fractured state of his marriage and less than 24 hours after Ava shared her shocking claims she received a cease-and-desist letter from Kim’s mom Kris Jenner’s communications company -- Jeffree Star took to YouTube to deny the affair -- another male beauty influencer Cole Carrigan then jumped on the bandwagon and claimed to have had a sexual encounter with Kanye at Hollywood’s W hotel and said he had receipts and texts between him and one of the rapper’s bodyguards adding he didn’t want to say too much because he didn’t want a lawsuit from Kim Kardashian West but two days later Cole posted a video of himself with a cease-and-desist letter from the bodyguard’s attorney 

Page 17: Only a week after Larry King was hospitalized with a life-threatening COVID-19 diagnosis his estranged wife Shawn splurged on a three-hour shopping spree -- Shawn didn’t seem to have a care in the world when she was snapped browsing for beauty supplies and home furnishings in L.A. while at the same time her soon-to-be ex-husband remained hospitalized in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center after being transferred from the intensive care unit 

Page 18: American Life 

Page 19: Kim Cattrall’s feud with Sex and the City co-star Sarah Jessica Parker just won’t die -- Kim who played Samantha Jones recently liked a tweet from a fan praising her for not joining her former castmates in an upcoming SATC reboot -- Kim and Sarah reportedly clashed behind the scenes for years 

* Amber Heard splashed out more than $1 million in donations toward fulfilling her pledge to give away her $7 million divorce settlement from Johnny Depp -- one of Amber’s attorneys challenged charges from Depp’s legal team who claimed Amber had pocketed the princely sum -- Amber has been delayed in that goal because Johnny filed a lawsuit against her and consequently she has been forced to spend millions of dollars defending his claims against her 

Page 20: Daring Duchess Sarah Ferguson has written a racy romance novel and she’s taken inspiration from her very own love life -- the ex-wife of Britain’s Prince Andrew who was scandalously snapped having her tootsies sucked by a suitor in 1992 penned Her Heart for a Compass which is set to be released this summer -- Sarah said the page-turner was inspired by the life of her great-aunt Lady Margaret Montagu Douglas Scott and the work incorporates research into the duchess’ heritage and draws upon her own unique life journey and experiences -- the historical saga is set in the late 1800s 

* Hollywood Hookups -- Luke Evans and boyfriend Rafa Olarra split, Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly move into together, LeToya Luckett and husband Tommicus Walker split 

Page 21: Prince Harry’s sporting a new crowning glory which is a ponytail -- that’s the dish from Rob Lowe who spotted Harry’s new ‘do while driving in their California neighborhood -- Rob said it looked that his hair had grown very long and was pulled back very tightly in a ponytail and he even followed the car to Harry and wife Meghan Markle’s mansion to make sure it was him -- Rob said Harry lives about a mile from him and he’s been very reclusive and seeing him is like seeing the Loch Ness Monster 

* George Clooney’s face has blown up like a balloon -- he looked painfully gaunt for months after rapidly dropping 28 pounds to play an ailing scientist in his latest movie The Midnight Sky but once the sickly star has bounced back and judging from his mug he’s apparently been pigging out in a bid to regain the weight he lost 

* Brendan Fraser is gearing up for a big career comeback as a 600-pound recluse in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale -- the choice of the role is ironic as the once-chiseled star seemed to fall out favor with Tinseltown bigwigs when his own weight ballooned -- Brendan is poised to make a whopper of a return to leading man status with meaty character Charlie who is a grief-stricken compulsive eater who seeks to reconnect with his estranged daughter 

Page 22: Explosive evidence reveals Earth is in great danger from attacking space aliens but despite a 3000-document cache released by the CIA, the government is still finding ways to classify extraterrestrial information -- the CIA dossier was obtained by John Greenewald Jr. and published on his Black Vault website -- the documents were likely released because of a new law that is part of the recent $2.3 billion COVID-19 relief package passed by Congress requiring government agencies to spill the beans on the UFO data they’ve amassed over 70 years 

* Agonizing health woes threaten to push long-suffering Lisa Marie Presley over the edge -- Lisa Marie has been in a lot of pain and years of drug and alcohol abuse have devastated her body -- she’s recently battled liver ailments and an abdominal muscle tear and suffered a hernia and had to have two teeth removed -- in addition to being in physical torment Lisa Marie had to move out of her Los Angeles home while workers addressed a problem with toxic mold -- Lisa Marie was already close to rock bottom after her son Ben Keough killed himself in July and amid her grief she’s still embroiled in a lawsuit with her former manager  and locked in an ugly divorce and custody battle with fourth husband Michael Lockwood the father of her twins Harper and Finley 

Page 23: As more shocking details emerged from Armie Hammer’s former girlfriends about what they claim are his sick and twisted fetishes for rape, bondage and cannibalism his career is crumbling before his eyes -- although many had trouble believing the depths of depravity allegedly revealed in private messages an anonymous woman claimed the actor sent her, even his estranged wife is shocked and sickened by Armie’s tawdry reported sexual tastes -- this is not the kind of scandal any actor would want to be linked to -- his pals are urging him to get counseling as the scandal could kill the trust-fund actor’s career 

Page 25: Cover Story -- It’s just the beginning! Capitol riot conspiracy exposed -- Proud Boys led blood-soaked siege -- 5-page investigative special 

Page 29: Outspoken Arnold Schwarzenegger likened the recent attack on the U.S. Capitol which left 5 dead to Nazi violence -- the former California governor and staunch Republican compared the January 6 riots by protestors, who refused to accept the outcome of the 2020 presidential election, to German’s Kristallnacht in 1938 -- in a video address Austrian-born Schwarzenegger who’s held U.S. citizenship since 1983 said Wednesday was the Day of Broken Glass right here in the United States 

Page 32: Health 

Page 38: Tormented actor Gabriel Byrne confessed he finally confronted the priest who abused him when he was 11 years old and it didn’t go well -- Byrne phoned the pedophilic priest in 2002 but the sicko said he has no recollection and even thanked Gabriel for reaching out -- Gabriel wanted in those last seconds to say that even though he doesn’t believe in Hell he hopes the priest did because he wanted him to be terrified and burn forever but he said nothing because some part of him did not want to hurt an old man with a kindly voice stuck in a retirement home 

* Miley Cyrus decorates her home with X-rated doodads -- she said in an interview that she likes sex toys and she buys them for herself but ends up using them for interior design

Page 40: Sleazy sex creep Jeffrey Epstein was nearly snared in a To Catch a Predator-style sting almost five years before the pedophile’s suspicious death in a Manhattan prison dished journalist Chris Hansen -- the former NBC host recently claimed in 2014 or 2015 after Epstein’s first jail stint for soliciting a minor he met with lawyers for some of the sex offenders alleged victims who claimed the financier was abusing underage girls -- they had a big file on it according to Hansen and he was trying to fashion a Predator-like sting operation in which they could catch him but he gave up on his quest because security at Epstein’s NYC and Florida homes made it very difficult to come up with something -- Hansen admitted not nailing Epstein was his biggest career regret 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Taylor Swift at the Grammys 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Mayim Bialik on the premiere episode of her sitcom Call Me Kat 

Page 47: The Odd List 

#tabloid #grain of salt #tabloid toc #tabloidtoc #capitol attack #january 6 #shia labeouf #margaret qualley #siegfried #siegfried fischbacher #angelina jolie #brad pitt #gwyneth paltrow #brad falchuk #sandra bullock #jada pinkett smith #olivia wilde #harry styles #jason sudeikis #carrie underwood #mike fisher #bruce willis #kelly clarkson #craig robinson #ellen degeneres #portia de rossi #kelly ripa #ryan seacrest #dustin diamond #carol burnett

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1149

Monday, January 30, 2017

 It's the Chinese Year of the Rooster folks and there's a cock in the White House. We are living in interesting times indeed. I am trying my best not to get riled up by the d-bag but it's difficult. The empathy I feel for others means I cannot ignore the affect the changes have on everybody. I just hope we all get through these difficult times relatively unscathed.

 I'm going to have a fun Sunday on February 5. I'll be at the Walkley Arena for the Capital Trade Show where my partner Chris and I will be flogging old comic books. Then it's Super Bowl 51 with two gun slinging quarterbacks. I am cheering for a high scoring affair.

 Civil War II: The Oath #1 - Nick Spencer (writer) Rod Reis, Raffaele Ienco, Szymon Kudranski & Dono Sanchez-Almara (art) VC's Chris Eliopoulos (letters). Didn't see that coming. While it makes sense to appoint Captain America as the new Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. (again) the surprise is that I don't think it's Steve Rogers under the mask. I don't particularly like the new political landscape that the Marvel U is headed towards but it does make for some easy enemies for the good guys to fight with. Nick put in a lot of rah, rah patriotism in this book so it was a tough slog trying to get through it but the payoff at the end is worth it.

 Kamandi Challenge #1 - Part One: Dan Didio (writer) Keith Giffen (pencils) Scott Koblish (inks) Hi-Fi (colours) Clem Robins (letters) Part Two: Dan Abnett (writer) Dale Eaglesham (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Clem Robins (letters). He's the last boy on Earth and he's going on a wild adventure to find his parents. One of Jack Kirby's creations is getting a round robin of comic book creators to excite fans like never before. Each part of the story will be done by a different team that will end with a cliffhanger that the next team must find a way to resolve. I have a nagging feeling that this stunt has been done before but I can't remember when so I'm going to tag along to see who does what. I'm not a fan of Kamandi but I want to see who all are going to be involved on the creative side.

 Loose Ends #1 - Jason Latour (writer) Chris Brunner (art) Rico Renzi (colours). The cover says that this 4-issue mini is a southern crime romance. They got that right. We're looking at a trailer dwelling war vet whose friend gets him mixed up in running drugs. You can expect that the vet and the friend get into a heap of trouble and they do. I like how Sonny and Rej each wind up where they do at the end of this first issue so you bet I'm going to keep reading. Not much romance so far but I'm sure Jason will get to that.

 Star Wars #27 - Jason Aaron (writer) Salvador Larroca (art) Edgar Delgado (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Yay Yoda. Root for him I will.

 Batgirl #7 - Hope Larson (writer) Chris Wildgoose (art) Mat Lopes (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). Part 1 of "Son of Penguin" introduces Ethan Cobblepot and I don't care if there is no reference to him anywhere else in the DCU because he's going to be a great adversary for Barbara Gordon. I like how Chris draws her older than Rafael Albuquerque did. This is going to be fun.

 Briggs Land #6 - Brian Wood (writer) Mack Chater (art) Lee Loughridge & Jeremy Colwell (colours) Nate Piekos (letters). I really like Grace Briggs. The risks that she is taking will hopefully keep her people safe. Brian has crafted a story fit for cable TV.

 Totally Awesome Hulk #15 - Greg Pak (writer) Mahmud Asrar (art) Nolan Woodward (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Greg continues to feature heroes of the Asian persuasion in this story about Amadeus hanging out with Jake Oh, Kamala Khan, Cindy Moon, Shang-Chi, and Jimmy Woo. It does play on some stereotypes but I think it's okay because they're true for these guys.

 Odyssey of the Amazons #1 - Kevin Grevioux (writer) Ryan Benjamin (pencils) Richard Friend (inks) Tony Washington & Tony Avina (colours) Saida Temofonte (letters). This 6-issue mini has a lot of women but not a wonder one in sight. Kevin features Diana's sister Amazons in a tale worthy of Homer. If you like classic sword and sorcery, you'll like this.

 Dead Inside #2 - John Arcudi (writer) Tony Fejzula (art) Andre May (colours) Joe Sabino (letters). The plot thickens like congealed blood and murder suspects start to emerge. Linda has plenty to deal with inside the prison but she's surprised when she gets home after work by a sight I did not expect to see. This mystery is crazy good.

 Inhumans vs. X-Men #3 - Charles Soule & Jeff Lemire (writer) Javier Garron (art) Andres Mossa & Jay David Ramos (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). There are three more issue to this mini but it seems to me that Charles and Jeff have already come up with a solution to the Terrigen cloud that would end the war. The mutant Forge has built a machine that can collect the Terrigen gas and compress it into a solid in this issue. Wouldn't that solve the problem of the gas killing the mutants? Works for me.

 Justice League vs. Suicide Squad #6 - Joshua Williamson (writer) Howard Porter (art) Alex Sinclair (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). All is well that ends well. Both teams join forces to defeat Eclipso and Max Lord is at the mercy of Amanda Waller. Batman sees the light and gathers another team together to fight evil forces. Get ready for a new Justice League of America #1 hitting the racks on February 22. DC is sure spreading Bats pretty thin these days.

 Skybourne #3 - Frank Cho (writer & artist) Marcio Menyz (colours) Ed Dukeshire (letters). The identity of the bad guy was a nice surprise. I like Frank's comic books because they're simple stories about good versus evil that are beautifully drawn.

 Hulk #2 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Nico Leon & Dalibor Talajic (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Waiting for Jennifer to Hulk out is one of the things I like about the new book. She has a lot more self control than I have. The scary thing about the eventuality of her losing control is that this new Hulk will be an uncontrollable creature of rage but we'll have to wait and see what happens. Until then I'm enjoying Jen's life so far.

 Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps #13 - Robert Venditti (writer) V Ken Marion (pencils) Paul Neary & Dexter Vines (inks) Alex Sollazzo (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Now that the planet Xudar has been saved, what now? It's time for a bedtime story that's what. This is a nice interlude issue before we launch into the next story. I've been enjoying this team book now that my loyalty to the Avengers has waned. We'll see if Robert can keep me hooked with his next adventure.

 Saga #42 - Brian K. Vaughn (writer) Fiona Staples (art) Fonografiks (letters). And fade to black. No, really. It's hiatus time again but this issue didn't leaving me screaming profanities about the long wait until the next issue hits the racks. There is a new character introduced who I will be very interested to find out more about.

 Doctor Strange #16 - Jason Aaron (writer) Chris Bachalo with Cory Smith (art) Al Vey, John Livesay, Victor Olazaba, &  Tim Townsend (inks) Antonio Fabela & Java Tartaglia with Chris Bachalo (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Dormammu is finally going to get his chance to kill Doctor Strange after he has been weakened by his fight with the Empirikul. Jason does find a neat way to save Stephen however. The next bit of nastiness involves someone close to the Doc. Oboy.

 Wonder Woman #15 - Greg Rucka (writer) Liam Sharp (art) Laura Martin (colours) Jodi Wynne (letters). Part 1 of "The Truth" finds Diana in a mental hospital. How she got there has yet to be explained but I'm sure I can handle it.

 Punisher #8 - Becky Cloonan (writer) Laura Braga with Iolanda Zanfardino (art) Frank Martin (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). That little old lady toting the double barrelled shotgun from last issue is named Ethel. She looks scary but she's not what you think. The change in art took some getting used to but it isn't bad enough to make me bench this book. I do have a couple of complaints though. If you're going to call a motorcycle a Harley, don't show what looks like a BMW logo on the gas tank. Also, draw the bad guy from the chest up when Frank says that he opened up his guts, not a full body shot that clearly shows an abdomen without any wounds at all. I don't know if the art had to be rushed after Steve Dillon passed away unexpectedly but that's just shoddy editing.

 Action Comics #972 - Dan Jurgens (writer) Stephen Segovia (pencils) Art Thibert (inks) Ulises Arreola (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). Trust Dan to come up with a non-violent way to stop Lex from being executed by the bad guys. It also served to show what possible futures are in store for this new Superman. DC has managed to revive my interest in this iconic character.

 Daredevil #16 - Charles Soule (writer) Goran Sudzuka (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). We find out why Daredevil put out a hit on himself to lure out Bullseye. There's some soul searching this issue which leads into the next storyline. I liked how Charles sets it up.

 Detective Comics #949 - James Tynion IV & Marguerite Bennett (writers) Ben Oliver & Szymon Kudranski (art) Ben Oliver, Gabe Eltaeb & Hi-Fi (colours) Marilyn Patrizio (letters). The finale of "Batwoman Begins" is a very good prelude to Batwoman's solo book which hits the racks on February 15. It looks like James and Marguerite are going to have a Raymond Reddington and Agent Keen thing going on between Kate and her dad. That's got me interested.

 Infamous Iron Man #4 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) Alex Maleev (art) Matt Hollingsworth (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Brian must have a thing for mother and son stories. He did it in International Iron Man where he introduced Tony's biological mother. Now he's showing us Victor's mom. I really do believe that Doom has reformed and I hope he stays a good guy.

 Spider-Man/Deadpool: Monsters Unleashed - Joshua Corin (writer) Tigh Walker (art) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). The boys save Toronto eh.

 Thanos #3 - Jeff Lemire (writer) Mike Deodato (art) Frank Martin (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the Imperial Guard of the Shi'ar versus Thanos. A perfect opportunity to give a history lesson on the life of the Mad Titan.

 Spider-Woman #15 - Dennis Hopeless (writer) Veronica Fish (art) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). Jessica subdues the new Porcupine and finds out who put the hit out on her friend Roger. Now she's gunning for the Hobgoblin but he's protected by an army of super villains. I hope little Gerry doesn't become an orphan.

[sinrau]

Some states and counties are delaying and even reversing reopenings as virus cases mount in the South and West. Experts say more opening and closing could go on for months.

Patrons at Gritty’s enjoyed outside seating on Tuesday in Portland, Maine. Credit…Greta Rybus for The New York Times

By Jack Healy, Mitch Smith and Giulia McDonnell Nieto del Rio

June 24, 2020Updated 3:43 p.m. ET

DENVER — Soaring cases of the coronavirus are forcing cities and states across the country to halt plans to restart their economies and even reimpose earlier limits on public life, increasing worries that premature reopenings could lead to a second round of closures.

In Texas, which reported a record high of more than 5,000 new cases on Tuesday, the governor told local officials they could restrict outdoor gatherings to 100 people and urged residents to stay home. Maine officials called off plans to allow bars to resume serving drinks inside on July 1. The governor of Kansas said rising cases showed that the state was “not ready” to continue easing restrictions. And in parts of central Idaho, where coronavirus cases have exploded in recent weeks, bars are shutting down and gatherings of more than 50 people are again outlawed.

“We may have let our guard down a little bit,” said Julie Gibbs, the health officer in Riley County, Kan., home to Kansas State University, where officials said they would tighten restrictions on large gatherings after the county’s total virus cases increased by 50 percent over the past week.

With the number of new daily cases now rising in more than half of the United States, the debate over whether to reimpose restrictions or push ahead with reopening is creating divides between neighboring cities and states that mirror the scattershot responses that emerged as the country went into lockdown this year.

A store worker in Kansas City, Kan., counted customers as they entered on Tuesday. The governor said rising cases showed that Kansas was “not ready” to continue easing restrictions.Credit…Kendall Short for The New York Times

“There’s very little appetite among the American public to go backwards,” said Michael Mina, an assistant professor of epidemiology at the Harvard T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “As reopenings started there were no plans for what would constitute a red flag to close things down. People just said, ‘We’re reopening, everything’s fine, let’s move ahead.’”

But public health experts who supported the original shutdowns now worry that governments will not be able to constrain the resurgent coronavirus with a blizzard of shifting restrictions that can change the moment a person crosses a city limit or state line.

Hundreds of city, county and state governments have created their own reopening plans, each with different “phases” of economic reopening and each with their rules for how many people can gather at a party, what portion of a restaurant’s tables can be full and when people must wear masks. The results can be a baffling patchwork, and one that residents are left to navigate on their own.

Much of the new tension over the safety of reopening is playing out in the West and South, where the numbers are getting worse, and has split along partisan lines.

The governors of Louisiana and Oregon, both Democrats, recently paused their plans to ease restrictions on businesses and public life, saying it was not yet safe to more fully reopen. And on Tuesday, Gov. Jay Inslee of Washington ordered most people to wear face coverings in public.

“It is clear that Covid is alive and well in Louisiana, and as we see more people testing positive and admitted to hospitals, we simply are not ready to move to the next phase,” Gov. John Bel Edwards said, noting that about 90 percent of new cases were coming from spread in the community, not within nursing homes or other group living facilities.

But Republican governors in Florida, Arizona, Texas and other states grappling with rising daily case levels have resisted the prospect of locking down again.

Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas has declined to require Texans to wear masks and said that locking down the state again would be a last resort. But on Tuesday he urged residents to stay home in an interview with the television station KBTX.

“Because the spread is so rampant right now, there is never a reason for you to have to leave your home unless you do need to go out,” he said. “The safest place for you is at your home.”

In Utah, Gov. Gary Herbert, a Republican, said he had “no plans to shut down Utah’s economy” after the state’s epidemiologist warned that the “only viable option to manage spread and deaths will be a complete shutdown” and urged the governor to reimpose tougher limits on public life.

Shelby County, Tenn., which includes Memphis, was poised to ease its coronavirus restrictions to “phase three” last week, allowing businesses to operate at 75 percent of their normal capacity, but county leaders reconsidered as the number of active cases grew to more than 2,000. Since the start of the pandemic, about 8,000 people have been infected across the county, and 165 have died.

“We ramped up to reopen too quick,” said Tami Sawyer, a county commissioner who has urged the county to impose even tighter limitations. “We weren’t ready.”

Restaurants and bars underwent a phased reopening in New Orleans last month. Gov. John Bel Edwards of Louisiana recently paused plans to ease restrictions, saying it was not yet safe to more fully reopen. Credit…Emily Kask for The New York Times

With guidance from governments hard to pin down, the burden of deciding whether to stay open or shut down again in the face of a positive coronavirus test is falling on individual businesses.

Restaurants, electronics retailers, salons and bakeries across the country have been reopening only to shut down weeks later after workers or customers report illnesses — a pattern that business owners fear will repeat itself for months until there is a vaccine or treatment for Covid-19.

#web #website #copied #to read# #highlight #link #news #read #blog #wordpress post# #posts #breaking news# #Sinrau #Nothiah #Sinrau29

#IFTTT #WordPress

[insurancepolicypro]

Air Ambulances Woo Rural Shoppers With Memberships That Could Go away Them Hanging

FORT SCOTT, Kan. — On a scorching June day because the Good Ol’ Days competition was in full swing, 7-year-old Kaidence Anderson sat within the shade along with her household, ready for a medevac helicopter to land.

A crowd had gathered to see the show prearranged by workers on the city’s historic fort.

“It’s going to indicate us the way it’s going to assist different individuals as a result of we don’t have the hospital anymore,” the redheaded lady defined.

Mercy Hospital Fort Scott closed on the finish of 2018, leaving this rural neighborhood about 90 miles south of Kansas Metropolis and not using a conventional hospital. The neighborhood has outpatient clinics run by a regional nonprofit well being heart and — at the very least quickly — an emergency division operated as a satellite tv for pc of a hospital within the subsequent city over.

For the reason that hospital closed, air ambulance promoting has turn into a extra widespread sight in mailboxes and at the very least one firm’s consultant has paid visits to a neighborhood nursing residence and the Chamber of Commerce, providing memberships. A pay as you go subscription would assure that if an AirMedCare Community helicopter involves your rescue, you’ll pay nothing.

Nationwide, although, state insurance coverage leaders, politicians and even one of many nation’s largest air ambulance corporations have raised alarms concerning the slickly marketed membership campaigns.

The air ambulance trade expanded by greater than 100 bases nationwide from 2012 to 2017 and costs elevated as properly, in response to a latest federal report. The median value charged for a medevac helicopter transport was $36,400 in 2017 — a 60% improve in contrast with the roughly $22,100 charged in 2012, in response to the March report from the U.S. Authorities Accountability Workplace.

Insurance coverage seldom covers the journeys and shoppers usually are stunned to get a invoice exhibiting they’re chargeable for the majority of the price. Nevertheless, each Medicare and Medicaid management the value of the service, so enrollees in these authorities insurance coverage applications face a lot decrease out-of-pocket prices or have none.

AirMedCare Community, which incorporates 340 bases throughout largely rural America, has greater than three million individuals enrolled in memberships, mentioned Seth Myers, president of Air Evac Lifeteam, one of many medevac corporations underneath the AirMedCare Community umbrella.

One brightly coloured AirMedCare commercial mailed in southeastern Kansas promised entry in a summer time trip giveaway as an incentive to enroll. A one-year membership is $85 — until you might be 60 or older, which qualifies you for a reduction. Shopping for multiyear memberships will increase the percentages of profitable that summer time journey.

“We’re a security internet for individuals in rural areas,” Myers mentioned. “Typically, if I inform you the names of the cities that the majority of our bases are positioned in, you wouldn’t know them until you lived in that state.”

More and more, although, state regulators have a skeptical view.

North Dakota Insurance coverage Commissioner Jon Godfread referred to as the memberships “one other loophole” that air ambulance corporations use to “basically exploit our shoppers.” The state banned the memberships in 2017, noting that the subscription plans don’t resolve the issue of shock medical payments as promised.

Too usually, the corporate responding to a affected person’s name for assist just isn’t the one the affected person signed up with, Godfread mentioned. North Dakota has 9 totally different air ambulance operators who reply to calls and sufferers haven’t any management over who might be referred to as, he defined.

Air Evac’s Myers mentioned his firm, which operates largely within the Midwest and Texas, doesn’t get many complaints from clients about different corporations choosing them up. He counted three this 12 months.

Texas Rep. Drew Springer, a Republican, launched a invoice handed by the state legislature this 12 months that may require corporations to honor the subscriptions or memberships of different air ambulance corporations.

However Texas Gov. Greg Abbott, additionally a Republican, vetoed Springer’s reciprocity invoice, saying it could unnecessarily intrude on the operations of personal companies.

Myers mentioned that AirMedCare Community was “very cautious to teach the legislature and the governor’s workplace” in Texas. A letter signed by Myers and different trade executives famous that the 1978 Airline Deregulation Act — a legislation created for the business airline trade — protects them. The federal legislation limits states’ potential to control charges, routes or companies. The legislation is on the core of the trade’s protection of its costs.

Like North Dakota, although, Montana used insurance coverage rules to restrict the memberships. A 2017 legislation requires air ambulance subscriptions to be licensed by the state’s insurance coverage division. As of August, no firm had utilized for certification — basically opting out of the state.

Air Strategies, one of many nation’s largest non-public air ambulance corporations, determined memberships “aren’t proper for sufferers,” in response to Megan Smith, a spokeswoman for the corporate.

Whereas membership applications promise clients will keep away from out-of-pocket bills, in actuality the contractual wonderful print “isn’t as reduce and dry,” she mentioned in an electronic mail.

Sufferers who join memberships and have non-public insurance coverage would nonetheless obtain a invoice after which should work by their insurance coverage firm’s claims, denial and enchantment processes.

And whereas Air Evac’s Myers mentioned the AirMedCare Community memberships or subscription charges exchange copays and deductibles, Air Methodology’s electronic mail highlighted in daring print that “a membership just isn’t essential” for Medicare sufferers as a result of federal legislation prohibits corporations from charging greater than copays and deductibles. Myers mentioned having a membership presents peace of thoughts, notably to these Medicare enrollees who shouldn’t have an added supplemental insurance coverage plan that covers transportation.

Additionally, as a result of the memberships aren’t formally insurance coverage or a coated profit, air ambulance corporations can finish them at any time “with out obligation to inform the shopper,” said the Air Strategies electronic mail. This implies a affected person may consider his or her emergency air transport was taken care of, solely to face a impolite awakening when the invoice got here.

Air Strategies is the popular helicopter service for Fort Scott’s dispatch service, in response to metropolis officers. But, Midwest AeroCare operated the helicopter that dropped in throughout the Good Ol’ Days competition.

Pilot Michael Samuelson has been flying for 3 a long time, which, he jokes, is “why I obtained all the grey hair.” The Midwest AeroCare helicopter behind him flies about 130 mph and takes about 40 minutes to move a affected person the roughly 90 miles from Fort Scott, Kan., to the Kansas Metropolis metro space. “It’s fairly quick,” Samuelson says.

Midwest AeroCare is a part of the AirMedCare Community — not Air Strategies. Households just like the Andersons have been there searching for reassurance that somebody would come for them if wanted, mentioned Daybreak Swisher-Anderson, Kaidence’s mother. Her son, Connor, has frequent and extreme bronchial asthma assaults that require hospitalization.

“It’s clearly scary with a younger one when he’s having respiratory issues,” Swisher-Anderson mentioned.

As soon as the helicopter landed, a tall pilot and two crewmembers stepped out and the onlookers rapidly shaped a line on the grass. Susan Glossip, who introduced her grandchildren to see the helicopter, inspired them to pose for an image.

Midwest AeroCare consultant Angela Warner stood close by and requested if she may publish the image on the corporate’s Fb web page.

After Glossip mentioned sure, Warner started speaking concerning the membership program emphasizing that “with Fort Scott dropping its hospital … having a helicopter have the ability to fly in can imply the distinction between dwelling and dying for some individuals.”

Glossip agreed and requested for a membership brochure.

from insurancepolicypro http://insurancepolicypro.com/?p=1212

[thisdaynews]

Cricket World Cup: Australia thrash New Zealand at Lord's

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/cricket-world-cup-australia-thrash-new-zealand-at-lords/

Cricket World Cup: Australia thrash New Zealand at Lord's

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Highlights: Australia thrash New Zealand

ICC Men’s Cricket World Cup, Lord’s Australia 243-9 (50 overs):Khawaja 88, Carey 71; Boult 4-51 New Zealand 157 (43.4 overs):Williamson 40; Starc 5-26 Australia win by 86 runs Scorecard;Table;Schedule

Australia threw New Zealand’s bid to reach the World Cup semi-finals off course as they beat their old rivals by 86 runs.

The Black Caps made a poor fist of chasing 244, bowled out for 157 after a Trent Boult hat-trick earlier restricted Australia to 243-9.

Usman Khawaja (88) and Alex Carey (71) were the only batsmen to settle for the defending champions, adding 107 for the sixth wicket.

But New Zealand struggled to build partnerships in reply as Australia strangled them with disciplined bowling, Mitchell Starc taking 5-26 to lift his wicket tally for the tournament to 24.

In a repeat of the 2015 final, Australia emerged victors over their Trans-Tasman neighbours once again.

But having already booked their semi-final place with victory against England on Tuesday, this win maintained momentum in their bid to retain the trophy.

New Zealand’s second defeat in a row after going unbeaten for the first six games of the tournament leaves them still uncertain of reaching the knockout stage.

Their final group game comes against hosts England at Chester-le-Street on Wednesday, where both sides could need victory to reach the last four.

Having been edged out by Pakistan last Wednesday by six wickets, this defeat may well have left a few mental and physical scars after an impressive display in the field seemed to put them on course for victory.

David Warner headed off to hospital not long after the game to join his wife Candice, who is set to give birth to their third child either later tonight or overnight.

Advantage Pakistan: World Cup permutations

Thrilling Pakistan increase pressure on England – report

Spirit of 92 – uncanny echoes to Pakistan’s World Cup triumph

Relive Australia’s win over New Zealand

World Cup group table Rank Team P W L T NR RR Pts

Top four go through to semi-finals

1 Australia (Q) 8 7 1 0 0 1 14 2 India 6 5 0 0 1 1.16 11 3 New Zealand 8 5 2 0 1 0.572 11 4 Pakistan 8 4 3 0 1 -0.792 9 5 England 7 4 3 0 0 1.051 8 6 Bangladesh 7 3 3 0 1 -0.133 7 7 Sri Lanka 7 2 3 0 2 -1.186 6 8 South Africa 8 2 5 0 1 -0.08 5 9 West Indies 7 1 5 0 1 -0.32 3 10 Afghanistan 8 0 8 0 0 -1.418 0

Australia show versatility in victory

For the first time since West Indies had them in disarray at Trent Bridge in their second game, Australia’s top-order batting failed to fire.

It left them, through some much-needed runs for number three Khawaja and another impressive effort by wicketkeeper Carey, to set New Zealand a modest 244 on a baking-hot June evening.

But back at the scene of their impressive win over England and on the same pitch where their seam bowlers better-exploited the conditions, it was a real team effort in this victory.

Captain Aaron Finch decided to use eight different bowlers, potentially to find out what alternative plans could be called upon in the semi-final.

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Boult takes final over hat-trick

But left-armer Jason Behrendorff (2-31) helped set the tone with another fine spell that accounted for openers Martin Guptill and Henry Nicholls while Starc again proved too hot to handle.

However, surprise appearances with the ball from both Finch himself and Steve Smith – bowling in an ODI for the first time since January 2016 – helped turn the screw.

Smith’s occasional leg-spin saw him dismiss big-hitting Colin De Grandhomme for a golden duck and effectively ended New Zealand’s hopes.

Boult hat-trick caps off fielding blockbuster

Earlier in the contest, it all seemed set up for a New Zealand victory after an eye-catching display in the field.

Despite losing the toss and fielding first on the hottest day of the year, the Black Caps were straight into the much-vaunted Australia opening pair of Finch and Warner.

The tournament’s two leading run-scorers were back in the pavilion inside the first 10 overs for eight and 16 respectively, two dismissals which set up some show-stealing moments.

Martin Guptill, who had earlier put down two tough chances when Finch and Khawaja were both on nought, clung on to arguably the catch of the World Cup so far.

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‘Are you serious?’ – Smith out to ‘fantastic’ Guptill catch

Not for the first time Steve Smith was on the receiving end.

He launched a full-bloodied pull shot off Lockie Ferguson, but Guptill clung on full stretch at short fine leg with a spectacular one-handed grab to bring the Lord’s crowd to its feet.

Not to be outdone, Jimmy Neesham joined the party by snaffling a superb caught and bowled low down to his left that accounted for the dangerous Glenn Maxwell for just one.

But the man to steal the show would be Trent Boult.

He took on the last over of the innings from the Nursery End and with it the wickets of Khawaja, Starc and Behrendorff with searing yorkers to complete the second ODI hat-trick of his career.

Walking off with a very tidy 4-51 and with Australia restricted to 243-9, the Kiwis seemed set for the win they needed.

But even that feat of fine left-arm bowling would later be upstaged by his opponents from across the Tasman.

Reaction

Australia captain Aaron Finch:“I’m very happy, from 92-5 a great partnership from Alex Carey and Usman Khawaja to get us to a really competitive total on a wicket that we knew was really going to slow up and turn.

“It was important that we tried to get some time in the middle, but not in the way that we did. It was a difficult surface to start on but I thought the way that Alex played, to strike the ball in the middle, was a really great innings.

“Mitchell Starc got the chocolates today and Nathan Lyon was as good as you would see in those conditions.”

On Smith’s unlikely wicket-taking contribution:“There was a bit of discussion – JL (coach Justin Langer), Punter (Ricky Ponting), myself, Smudge himself – he was confident, Brad Haddin as well. A lot of ideas go into planning meetings, it was nice one of them worked.”

New Zealand captain Kane Williamson:“Obviously it was a fairly challenging surface. We were able hit the wicket hard and put the ball in the right areas to get some rewards. It was a position of strength at the halfway stage of the first innings. A lot of credit goes to them for the way they rebuilt the innings and got to a competitive total.

“It was a tough old surface. Australia adapted better than we did with the big lads who hit the wicket hard.

“As we saw in the first innings, we needed one major partnership of 100 plus to soak up pressure and turn momentum. It wasn’t to be today. We need to improve and we move on quickly.”

Australia fast bowler Mitchell Starc:“We keep learning when we have to bowl second. But as a unit today, we were fantastic to keep such a good side to under 160.

“It was a fantastic effort from everyone. The fantastic thing with all 15 of our squad is we’ve got guys ready to go if called upon.

“Those picked today did a fantastic job and we’re finding ways to scrap and restrict teams. I think we’re improving with every game and we’ve executed really well over the past few games.

“We probably had the rub of the conditions bowling second, but we knew we had to take wickets throughout against a powerful batting line-up.”

Read More

#Lord's #Zealand

[kennethherrerablog]

This Is What Happens When You Become Debt-Free at a Heart-Wrenching Cost

When it comes to getting a large financial windfall from a relative, you hope it’s from a long-lost uncle you’ve never heard of. Unfortunately, it rarely happens that way.

Most of the time, the payout comes with a painful loss and a range of feelings — even if you decide to use it for something your loved one would be proud of, like paying off student loans.

Rachel Smith and her husband, Travis, spent 14 months cutting back and working extra to pay off their student loans. When Rachel’s dad died unexpectedly, her mom gifted them part of the life insurance payout so they could become debt-free.

“I just remember feeling so confused, excited, happy, angry,” Smith said. “I mean, it was a full spectrum of emotions.”

The payout lifted the burden of their debt, but it also marked the start of a journey with no clear action plan or timeline for completion.

How They Started Paying Off Their $185K Debt

Rachel and Travis met as engineering students in Michigan. Rachel was an out-of-state student from Anchorage, Alaska, and took out $25,000 in student loans. Travis was an in-state student and thought he had about $60,000 of debt at graduation in 2015; he didn’t pay much attention to the exact balance.

Weeks after getting married in June 2015, they calculated their total debt and found Travis’ estimation had been off by over $100,000.

Their actual student loan debt was $185,000.

“I’m like, ‘$50,000 to $60,000, that’s a lot, but we’ll deal with it. We’re both engineers,’” Rachel said. “And then when it was that much more, it just shattered our world.”

To top it off, they were expecting their first child in a few months.  

They committed to paying off their student loans as quickly as possible. They waited until their daughter, Riley, was born and started putting all their extra income toward their loans in January 2016.

Thanks to a gift from her mom from her grandmother’s estate, Rachel knew she would be able to pay off $20,000 shortly after her graduation later in 2016.

The Smiths didn’t ease into a frugal lifestyle. They stopped going out, began budgeting, planned meals around sales and even made their own baby food.

They lived with family for a few months while they looked for a cheap rental. It allowed them to wait for something at the right price.

“It was a very dated rental,” Rachel said. “You would look at that place and go, ‘There’s two engineers living there?’”

They were putting thousands of dollars every month toward their loans, and they were ready to continue it for years to come.

After only 10 months of focusing on their debt, they’d paid off over $56,000, not including the gift from Rachel’s grandmother.

The Windfall She Never Wanted

Rachel’s dad had no known health issues, so when he was hospitalized in November 2016, no one expected he’d be gone just a few days later.

Rachel and Travis used their $3,000 emergency fund to purchase last-minute tickets to Anchorage and cover meals while they were there. When they returned to Michigan, they went right back to their frugal lifestyle.

A few months later in May 2017, Rachel’s mom called and said she wanted to pay off the rest of their loans.

Rachel knew her dad had life insurance. She thought she might get something someday when her mom died, but she never expected anything so soon or of that magnitude.

“I’d literally put in an additional payment that day for a few hundred dollars,” Rachel said. “I mean, we’re talking hours before.”

Rachel made sure her mom was positive about her decision. Then, she made a lump-sum final payment of $109,000 the next day.

But it seemed almost like blood money to Rachel.

“I felt like, ‘This is so wrong,’” she said. “Like my dad has died, and now my loans are getting paid off.”

Using Money to Honor a Legacy

Rachel felt guilt for a long time. She would’ve gladly spent years paying back the loans to have her father back.

Travis struggled too, but in a different way. The majority of their student loans were his, and this man he barely knew paid them off.

With their student loans gone, Rachel felt like the real debt began: the debt of obligation she felt to use her money even more responsibly.

They tried to do things with their money that would honor Rachel’s dad, including buying a house in a neighborhood where their kids could go to a good school. But grief and guilt intertwined with the joy that their investments brought.

One of the ways Rachel processed her guilt was through her blog.

Before her dad died, she had started a blog to chronicle her debt-payoff journey. She thought it would take several years. When her windfall came, she felt like she was a failure, like she couldn’t finish the race she’d started running.

While it took time for her to reconcile her real situation with her planned one, her blog gave her a place to grieve and process her loss through writing. It eventually gave her the foundation to leave what she says was a toxic work environment. She now works from home as a freelance writer.

It’s another thing she can thank her dad for.

The biggest factor in resolving their guilt was time. Now, Rachel and Travis view their financial decisions not with guilt or obligation, but as a part of her father’s legacy.

“It’s pretty much taken until this year to be like, ‘This is OK,’” Rachel said. “This happened. It’s OK to make sure you’re making the most of it and do things that do honor him.”

Jen Smith is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She gives money-saving and debt-payoff tips on Instagram at @savingwithspunk.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here’s why you can trust us and how we make money.

This Is What Happens When You Become Debt-Free at a Heart-Wrenching Cost published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/

[kennethherrerablog]

This Is What Happens When You Become Debt-Free at a Heart-Wrenching Cost

When it comes to getting a large financial windfall from a relative, you hope it’s from a long-lost uncle you’ve never heard of. Unfortunately, it rarely happens that way.

Most of the time, the payout comes with a painful loss and a range of feelings — even if you decide to use it for something your loved one would be proud of, like paying off student loans.

Rachel Smith and her husband, Travis, spent 14 months cutting back and working extra to pay off their student loans. When Rachel’s dad died unexpectedly, her mom gifted them part of the life insurance payout so they could become debt-free.

“I just remember feeling so confused, excited, happy, angry,” Smith said. “I mean, it was a full spectrum of emotions.”

The payout lifted the burden of their debt, but it also marked the start of a journey with no clear action plan or timeline for completion.

How They Started Paying Off Their $185K Debt

Rachel and Travis met as engineering students in Michigan. Rachel was an out-of-state student from Anchorage, Alaska, and took out $25,000 in student loans. Travis was an in-state student and thought he had about $60,000 of debt at graduation in 2015; he didn’t pay much attention to the exact balance.

Weeks after getting married in June 2015, they calculated their total debt and found Travis’ estimation had been off by over $100,000.

Their actual student loan debt was $185,000.

“I’m like, ‘$50,000 to $60,000, that’s a lot, but we’ll deal with it. We’re both engineers,’” Rachel said. “And then when it was that much more, it just shattered our world.”

To top it off, they were expecting their first child in a few months.  

They committed to paying off their student loans as quickly as possible. They waited until their daughter, Riley, was born and started putting all their extra income toward their loans in January 2016.

Thanks to a gift from her mom from her grandmother’s estate, Rachel knew she would be able to pay off $20,000 shortly after her graduation later in 2016.

The Smiths didn’t ease into a frugal lifestyle. They stopped going out, began budgeting, planned meals around sales and even made their own baby food.

They lived with family for a few months while they looked for a cheap rental. It allowed them to wait for something at the right price.

“It was a very dated rental,” Rachel said. “You would look at that place and go, ‘There’s two engineers living there?’”

They were putting thousands of dollars every month toward their loans, and they were ready to continue it for years to come.

After only 10 months of focusing on their debt, they’d paid off over $56,000, not including the gift from Rachel’s grandmother.

The Windfall She Never Wanted

Rachel’s dad had no known health issues, so when he was hospitalized in November 2016, no one expected he’d be gone just a few days later.

Rachel and Travis used their $3,000 emergency fund to purchase last-minute tickets to Anchorage and cover meals while they were there. When they returned to Michigan, they went right back to their frugal lifestyle.

A few months later in May 2017, Rachel’s mom called and said she wanted to pay off the rest of their loans.

Rachel knew her dad had life insurance. She thought she might get something someday when her mom died, but she never expected anything so soon or of that magnitude.

“I’d literally put in an additional payment that day for a few hundred dollars,” Rachel said. “I mean, we’re talking hours before.”

Rachel made sure her mom was positive about her decision. Then, she made a lump-sum final payment of $109,000 the next day.

But it seemed almost like blood money to Rachel.

“I felt like, ‘This is so wrong,’” she said. “Like my dad has died, and now my loans are getting paid off.”

Using Money to Honor a Legacy

Rachel felt guilt for a long time. She would’ve gladly spent years paying back the loans to have her father back.

Travis struggled too, but in a different way. The majority of their student loans were his, and this man he barely knew paid them off.

With their student loans gone, Rachel felt like the real debt began: the debt of obligation she felt to use her money even more responsibly.

They tried to do things with their money that would honor Rachel’s dad, including buying a house in a neighborhood where their kids could go to a good school. But grief and guilt intertwined with the joy that their investments brought.

One of the ways Rachel processed her guilt was through her blog.

Before her dad died, she had started a blog to chronicle her debt-payoff journey. She thought it would take several years. When her windfall came, she felt like she was a failure, like she couldn’t finish the race she’d started running.

While it took time for her to reconcile her real situation with her planned one, her blog gave her a place to grieve and process her loss through writing. It eventually gave her the foundation to leave what she says was a toxic work environment. She now works from home as a freelance writer.

It’s another thing she can thank her dad for.

The biggest factor in resolving their guilt was time. Now, Rachel and Travis view their financial decisions not with guilt or obligation, but as a part of her father’s legacy.

“It’s pretty much taken until this year to be like, ‘This is OK,’” Rachel said. “This happened. It’s OK to make sure you’re making the most of it and do things that do honor him.”

Jen Smith is a staff writer at The Penny Hoarder. She gives money-saving and debt-payoff tips on Instagram at @savingwithspunk.

This was originally published on The Penny Hoarder, which helps millions of readers worldwide earn and save money by sharing unique job opportunities, personal stories, freebies and more. The Inc. 5000 ranked The Penny Hoarder as the fastest-growing private media company in the U.S. in 2017.

The Penny Hoarder Promise: We provide accurate, reliable information. Here’s why you can trust us and how we make money.

This Is What Happens When You Become Debt-Free at a Heart-Wrenching Cost published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/