Marsha > Recent Status Updates

I'm aware these final moments of anticipation should probably terrify me, but for some reason fear is the last thing on my mind. I've had time to mentally prepare, of course, but that doesn't quite explain the unexpected emotions as I cinch my boots and lock them to the pant leg, creating an airtight seal.
The odds of me never returning from this plunge into the infinite are substantial, and that's fine.

He walks over to a large building. The doorframe has been burned. The building contains a room with big windows that have been broken. He thinks the space must have dows that have been broken. He thinks the space must have been a restaurant. There are built-in chairs that weren't removed. Most of the tables are gone, but two remain soldered to the floor. There's an elongated structure that could have been a bar.

"Few arrive dead, but every so often we get one. When that happens, the FSA is informed and they come take the head away." He knows that this is the official truth, which makes it a relative truth. He knows that the employees leave a few for the Scavengers, who slaughter the meat with machetes and take what they can. They don't care that the meat is diseased; they run the risk because they can't afford to buy it.

The next hour passes by with them discussing everything from a company that IPO'd earlier that week to the season finale of a dark comedy on HBO.
Somewhere between their next round of drinks and their current conversation about working remotely with kids, Maya feels like a proper adult. A real grown-up in the outside world, not just someone who has spent the past months measuring out everything in ounces.

Once Morjune was tied to the upright stake, Parson Lebone made one last attempt to coax confession and repentance out of her. For his own part he was convinced of her innocence, but he thought it might comfort the girl to feel that she had put herself right with Heaven. "Will you not pray with me for Christ's forgiveness?"
Morjune peered at him, blinking. "No, father," she said. "I think I won't."

"What happened to the Duke?" I ask. Please be dead, please be dead.
"He and his cronies f**ked off," Gena says. "Heading northwest, last I saw. Probably keep running until he gets to his own sh**hole castle. F**king crabs decided they'd had enough not long after, haven't seen 'em since." She narrows her eyes. "Where were you hiding the Prince?"
"A bunch of them chased us, but we managed to take care of them."

"Why do you want to go to Essex?"
"Essex Fashion Week."
"Is this a dream? Why the hell do you want to go to Essex Fashion Week?"
Because there's a man I can't stop thinking about. Because I feel terrible and I want him." "Research," I said.
"You're setting the next Rik Glass in Essex?"
"Uh, yes. It's going to be called..." I waited for inspiration to strike. "...The Glass of Fashion."

Human rights are broad and aspirational. Those in power--government institutions and individuals--are responsible for ensuring access to the key services and programs that proactively advance such values as dignity and full participation in society. The human rights approach focuses on protecting those who are most marginalized, excluded, or discriminated against.

The Center and its clinic clients were between a rock and a hard place that echoed Casey, just as the anti-abortion movement had planned. Should they appeal to the Supreme Court, they risked a loss with nationwide impact. If they let the law stand, not only could it shutter more clinics in Louisiana, but it could inspire copycat laws in other states around the country.

"Hooray!" I say, and immediately start arranging us all in the best formation--Leila in the middle, me and Nate flanking her, Elliot in front, on his knees. My proposal that we all pretend to be looking at something random and strange in the distance is accepted, and we all pose with expressions which vary between wonder, disgust, and horror, with Leila actually pointing at the pretend thing, whatever it actually is.

Jack's just acting like everything's cool, but he must have noticed I'm barely talking to him. "So the hot tub pic went down a storm," he says to me. "It's an absolutely mint photo--looks really glamorous--laughter, bubbles, hot teens in a hot tub!"
"Good." At least that's something. I hope Tariq's seen it. I hope I was laughing in the picture. "It's unlikely, but I hope it.

The stranger was babbling ecstatically, begging Alice to take it out, don't take it out, let him come, please, please, please.
In spite of myself, I shuddered. I could too easily imagine Toby's hands upon me, the slick-slow invasion of metal.
Robert had never done that to me. He liked control, but Toby liked to be under my skin. He wanted to be inside me, in my body and in my mind. In my heart.

I broke, and it felt like peace or hope or love and I didn't care. "Anything. anything you want."
"Everything."
Sweet, greedy, impossible princeling, he could have me.
Because, truthfully, he already did.
We sat there for a long time, doing nothing except holding each other, Toby's body curled into mine, utterly quiescent, almost as if he slept. But he was wide awake, and I sensed his eyes upon me, never straying.

It felt strangely indulgent to be awake. Nights were for sex and sleeping. Blue lights and urgent skies. Death. And sudden life. I couldn't remember the last time I'd stayed up simply to talk.
"It's just how will I know it's okay? I put the tie round your eyes, you said you didn't want it and I did it anyway, and it turned me on. A lot." His cock stirred and he tried to shove it out of the way. "God, I'm sick."

Evie smiled softly, folding her hands in her lap. "Becky, without you, I likely would have died twelve times over by now." She chewed on her lip. "I think I've gone most of my life without any sort of structure, and when you presented it so steadfastly, my first instinct was to hate it. But that isn't fair, especially when it's come to make me feel so secure and safe."

"Anavar, I have no proper court. The best service you can give is to attend me. Call those whom I seek; relay my words. When we're home in Stryx, protocol will sort itself out. Chamberlain Willem will help. Let's find Raeth."
In the courtyard, Tursel had made great progress in settling the displaced townsfolk. His men had improvised rough shelters, in which villeins and merchants alike huddled.

The dust of forty horsemen would raise alarm, especially if no patrol of that number had been sent our way. It was our forerunners' task to hold open the gates to the keep. A flaming arrow into the dusk was to be our signal.
We waited int he ruins with growing unease. Rust would ride with us; I could not prevent it. But he'd sworn on his very soul to turn away from Llewelyn, should they meet.

In principle, Rustin might have accepted my foray. But there was much advice to endure--most of it worth the hearing--before we were allowed to leave and even then, my party had swelled to six.
Two picked soldiers were to escort us to the edge of Stryx, to ward off brigands and await our return. A third, a burly young fellow, was to dress in peasant garb, ride into town and keep us in sight.

I'd feared he'd find Rustin a bloated corpse, crawling with feeding mites. On the other hand, Rust had deserted me and fled to the safety of Seawatch; so much for my loyal vassal. More than once, I'd spat out mouthfuls of grass and hay, when he'd lost his temper over some careless remark. I saw the advantage of Eiber's paid and full-time soldiery; they played at no hypocrisy of oaths and pretended allegiance.

He dropped to a knee. "I pledge myself to thee as vassal, from this moment unto our deaths or my release. I shall serve and protect thee with honor. I do swear my loyalty, and vow I shall take no other as my liege save thee." In the age-old gesture, he touched his palm to my chest and bowed his head.
For a moment I stood transfixed, almost in dread. He'd proffered me his life, his independence.

Evie pushed up on her toes and kissed the healer's cheek. "Thank you, my friend." She turned to smile at Clare. "And thank you, too."
The Villain's sister eyed the vial in her hand with a sympathetic expression. "Your father has the Mystic Illness?"
Evie nodded and placed the medicine in the pocket of her skirt before moving over to the table to pick up her cloak.

"Make yourselves at home," Clare called as they entered the small archway, and Evie's widened as she got her first real look inside. Whatever enchantment was on this house, it made the structure look a significant amount smaller on the outside than the grand splendor she was currently looking at.
The room had floor-to-ceiling windows that opened on a large living space, facing a wall filled with shelves.

Despite his other obviously nefarious doings, the boss had a strange and confusing set of moral checkpoints that he followed rather diligently--first of which was to never harm innocents, to her relief. His evil was very much the vengeful kind. She also liked that his moral list included treating the women of the world with the same level of respect and esteem as the men.

Abby had one other all-consuming addiction: celebrities. She had alerts on her phone for hundreds of models, pop stars, Bachelorettes, Real Housewives and the occasional female criminal, especially if she'd killed more than one husband. We can gossip about famous people we'll never meet because, as Abby once explained, "They're more interesting than us, they can afford to make themselves more attractive than us."

Monica is that friend in the group that tells you like it is. Monica don't do meek, subtle, or quaint. One time when Jim Rhodes was Iron Man, he said to her, "What's happening', babe?" Monica replied, "Let's make a deal! You call me 'Captain Marvel' instead of 'babe' and I'll call you 'Iron Man' instead of 'Bozo.'" Needless to say that's the last time Iron Man called her "babe."

LOOK, FAM, EVERYONE got their rituals, nah mean? Some folks like to eat a particular meal every first of the month. Some folks rearrange their furniture. Me? I watch Batman: Under the Red Hood. Every. Month. I be scoping all these DCU animated films and for the most part, I can dig something out of all of them, but they all be fighting for second place, you.

"Get dressed," he whispers. "I'm starving."
"Yeah, starving for my d**k." It comes out childish and clumsy, not seductive like I'd intended, and Joaquin gives me a weird look, probably because he's not used to that kind of talk from me. But I don't regret it. This is my second chance, the start of my true redemption arc. I'm not going to mess this up.

He could be unkind to me. Point out that we broke up months ago, that I've been the one pathetically grasping at threads that are no longer there. Hanging on his every word, taking notes about his life like his personal secretary. But he stays quiet. Our shoulders are brushing, but it's not like that. We're friends, and for the first time, I feel like it's true.
"We should probably talk about boundaries," he says.

If I don't take this opportunity, someone else would and isn't it better that I benefit from this arrangement? I'm using the money to help Golden River, a non-profit, while others would waste it on themselves.
I'm just doing what needs to be done, for Acorn and Cashew, Hoot and Squawk and all the others. I'm going to be honest with Erin, open. Trustworthy, wholesome. I'll show her how good I really am.

We were in what had been East Germany, shooting this film, so there were examples of Communist-era architecture all around us--and also in Czechoslovakia. There were buildings from that time period that were intact and also buildings that had been modified in that period, so you kind of could get comfortable with this style of Brutalist renovation, for lack of a better term.