Warnings: It’s sometimes sad, but overall cute. Mentions of torture.
Summary: After the events in the Leipzig airport, queen (Y/N) is taken to the Raft and tortued to say something about the whereabouts of Captain Rogers; she endures everything and even got rescued by a fellow monarch whom she knew from a life that she thought she would never get back to. Diplomacy is key.
A/N: Feedback is love.
“What you did to them
was not as cruel as what they did to you.”
It was the first thing (Y/N) typed down. She
was home at last, and more or less safe and she firmly needed to believe her
The medical team that took care of her told her
that if she wasn’t keen on talking, she could probably write things down, let
her memory and fingers do the job, but that was easier said than done;
especially when her memory only played the same images again and again. She
took a deep breath, feeling her chest inflate with the income and slowly
exhaled everything away. The thoughts wandered in and out, and following her
meditation teacher’s instructions, she tried not to make a whole story around
begun in Vienna. I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have been there. I
shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. But I did. I
went there and I can’t change that. I was there only to hear what fat men
wanted from people with powers; people like me. But I am not their property and
I don’t want them to register me or mark me as something I am not. I am a
queen, I am a ruler and I am powerful. I am graceful in what I do and god knows
I am. I just wanted people to feel better, but their emotions turned confusing
and I just couldn’t do that anymore.”
By the end of her first stream of consciousness
session, (Y/N) was already shaking and crying. She grabbed her head in her
hands tightly, trying to shake away all the images that followed those
inauspicious events. Leipzig, and then the Raft. She remembered hiding in the
shadows, unbeknownst to everyone, as she toyed and manipulated their anger and
their feelings of blind justice.
Captain Rogers had hidden friends outside the
avengers, and she was a most appreciated one, so it was not a surprise when he
told her to please help him out with a little something. He mentioned the
dangers and the exposure, but he also explained how important it was for him to
have his friend back and the accords not signed. (Y/N) understood that very
well. The meaning of family and the promise of a free life.
Once she was there, hiding behind the
structures, containers and trucks, she felt a familiar presence. But she could
not recognize anybody; not their breathing and not her thoughts. She moved
around like the shadows and with them, trying to remain unseen from everyone.
But then the fight was over and the million tricks under her sleeve were gone
and people were dragging her to a plane to throw her into a prison in the
middle of the ocean. The Raft, they called it.
There she met her fellow inmates, the archer,
the man that could shrink, the man with the wings and the woman with the mental
abilities. She could not escape and she could not use her powers to feel less
lonely. Little by little, she locked herself into her own mind, unwilling to
maintain a conversation with anybody, and each passing day she seemed more and
more unbreakable, even though she was tortured in several ways to get the
information about Captain Rogers and his whereabouts. She knew and believed in
the value of loyalty, even if it meant rotting in her cell.
She was about to give up on everything and
everyone, but then she saw the light, or more like the light going off. Steve
Rogers appeared, almost horrified by what happened to his dearest friends and allies.
Cap’s team was taken to Wakanda, a nation she didn’t know she knew.
They were all welcomed by the king himself, a
tall man of dark complexion; he irradiated authority and kindness, even though
he saw before him the people that he once tried so hard to get rid of. (Y/N)
felt even smaller next to him; being a queen herself, she knew in her heart
that she wasn’t as good as he was. People around him smiled as they vowed their
heads, but when her people passed by, they bowed their heads in fear.
King T’Challa was a very caring man, not only
for his people, but for people he didn’t know too. He was in charge of all the
attentions the newly arrived would have; from their bedrooms to the different
recovery therapies they would be under. Each one of them different for each
The physical therapy was one thing, getting
regular check-ups with the castle’s medical team, but then there were the
therapy sessions that (Y/N) dreaded to attend. T’Challa was informed of this
and of course he worried, he wanted everyone to be as mentally healthy as
possible, even though he understood if it took a long time.
The king decided to ask (Y/N) why wasn’t she
attending the sessions and if there was another thing she’d like to try so he
could make the arrangements for it to be done, but before he could put the
question into words, she had already disappeared.
The queen came back to her own palace, in the
safety of her walls and the safety of her people. She still thought about
T’Challa and the brief encounters they did happen to have. She couldn’t escape
all day from him, and even though she never tried to, she still had little to
no words to say to him other than answering his questions. Among those
questions, there was the moment when he found out she was a queen also, a very
young one; younger than him. Later he found out that his deceased father was
once an ally with hers, and a light-bulb lighted up inside his mind.
“You got a letter, your highness.” One of the
maidens said, carrying with her a golden envelope with the queen’s name on it.
The queen didn’t pay much attention until the maid said where it came
from. “This comes from Wakanda.” (Y/N)
turned her head to look at the envelope and reached out her hand for it to be
handed to her.
“Thank you.” The queen bowed her head and
smiled lightly, and the maid turned on her heels and left (Y/N) alone again
with the pile of papers she still had to revise.
Ever since (Y/N) came back to her lands,
everything was busier than ever. The world was now aware of her secret society
and trying to get the press away from the limits was a terribly exhausting job.
She was not very good at the social contact and she preferred not to do it
anyway; she had people to take care of public relationships, but there was one
thing she couldn’t escape from. Diplomacy.
She opened the letter to find a handwritten
I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a
few months since you left Wakanda without even saying goodbye and I believe we
have a few matters to discuss. Political ones mostly, but I suppose we can find
the time to discuss other things.
As you might be aware of, our fathers shared a
close friendship, and both kingdoms were war allies before and we also did a
lot of commerce; that is relationship that I wish to re-build now that we have
become public personas and that we have properly met (the circumstances were terrible,
but at least everyone got something positive out of it). Would it be okay if I
ask you out for dinner soon? Whatever your answer may be, reply this letter as
soon as possible and I’ll make the arrangements to meet your convenience.
Looking forward to hear from you.
(Y/N) held the letter for a few more minutes
before she could realize that she was thinking about the ruler of the peaceful
kingdom that received her just months ago. She was still surprised that he did
it, and on top of that, he was asking to meet her again. Yes, they had some
important topics to discuss, but for the words and their underlying meaning, he
was quite eager to see her.
She took a deep breath and wrote the reply
herself. She didn’t want to waste any other precious second. She called the
same maiden and asked to send the letter away and that it was extremely
important that she made sure it would arrive as soon as it could be.
The venue for their dinner would be the
gorgeous city of Marrakesh; they agreed that a neutral place was the best
option for their not-official diplomatic meeting. (Y/N) appeared in a
restaurant wearing a tight black dress. It had no back, and the cleavage was low,
but not low enough to show her breasts or to look tacky. T’Challa was blown
away by her beauty; he remembered quite well the girl in his palace, but the
girl back then used to hide herself under baggy clothes, or hide herself in her
bedroom if possible.
“It’s nice to see you out,” T’Challa commented
as he conducted her to their table, “how are you feeling?”
“It’s hard to get back on track,” she nodded,
feeling the weight of her words, “but I got some good people to take care of
The drinks started to pour on their glasses and
the food arrived to them. Spicy food was one thing, but the dishes there were
more condiments than actual ingredients. It was a fun meal, and even though
they could not speak very much, the looks they shared said more than a hundred
(Y/N) felt how he observed her every move, from
the way she ate, to the way her lips captured the glass and the liquid went
down her throat. She started to like the way that his feelings were so out
there, she was not even having an insight of his mind, but instead; he was
giving it all away as if he wanted her to witness everything that he was going
“It’s kinda funny to think our parents were
once allies,” (Y/N) started, “I still have your father in my memory. He’s one
of the memories I cherish the most.” She smiled almost to herself. “I remember
that he gave me, for one of my birthdays, a small sculpture of a panther.” She
giggled heartedly. “I never thought I’d learn the hard way that apparently the
panther is the national animal in Wakanda.”
“I actually made that,” T’Challa admitted,
scratching the back of his neck and feeling a strong warmth spreading through
his face, “and I wanted to give it to you so badly, because you were the only
other child I knew that knew exactly what I was going through, but I got sick
the few days before that and… I was bound to be in bed for about a week so… I
was destroyed by that.” He chuckled. Just a few seconds after, they fell
silent. They searched in each other’s eyes for conversation, and that was
enough, but T’Challa broke the silence between them. “You know, I spent my
teenage years imagining how you had grown up, and if there could be a chance of
us keeping a future together—for the sake of our kingdoms, of course.” He
hurried to add.
“That’s a heavy wonder to carry for a teenage
boy.” (Y/N) conceded, swirling the liquid in the glass with her powers. She was
absent minded, thinking about the little boy she once met; it was hard to
believe that the boy had grown up into such a majestic man, not to mention how
handsome he was. She shook her head, as if it made the thoughts go away, but
she still had in mind the words he said, and how he thought about the future.
“You know, my father was not a very sentimental man, and he was most probably
worried about the future of the people rather than my future, but he always
said that it would’ve been a good idea to keep relations with Wakanda.” She
pursed her lips into a smile. “He said, it was one of dreams to see me married
to the heir. And now that I know him… I believe my father knew what he talked
“And what is that?”
“He must have had some idea about the kind of
man you have turned into.” She exhaled heavily and let her back rest
comfortably on the chair. “I’m not the kind of girl that’s good with words, let
alone those words being about my inner thoughts and the mind beyond my mind, so
I’ll say this quickly: I like you, and I like the man you’ve become. I like you
because you took care of me like no one else would have, even though I was the
one who made you feel so enraged. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life, and
playing with your feelings was one. If you want me to answer your teenage
question: yes, there is a chance of keeping our kingdoms together, but I don’t
want to be with you because of that, I want to be with you because the feeling
is corresponded. If not—”
“I thought those words would never come.”
T’Challa chuckled. “I’ve been thinking about those words since I can remember,
and… they feel a hundred times better.” He rested his elbows on the table and
reached out for (Y/N)’s hands, but she couldn’t move. “I’ve been in love with
you, and the thought of you for long, and you can’t imagine how broken my heart
was when I saw you under arrest… and what they did to you at the Raft…” He
clenched his fists and his knuckles whitened from the strength used. “I
couldn’t stand it. I mean, the thought of what you went through still keeps me
up at night.” He stopped for a few seconds, just to get his thoughts straight.
“I don’t care about what you did; that’s buried in the past and I have no
interest in bringing it back. I like who you are now, and I want to learn from
you… Let’s give this a try, and if this does not meet your expectations, or if
something happens along the way, just promise me you’ll be as sincere as you
have been throughout the night.”
“I—I will.” (Y/N) stammered nervously, as she
timidly intertwined her hands with T’Challa’s.
She smiled at the contact between them; it was so childish, so innocent,
but she knew she was making the right decision. “I’m just so… I thought that,
once you found out that it was me who toyed with everyone’s mind and that I was
involved with Captain Rogers, you’d shut me out and probably you wouldn’t even
talk to me about diplomacy… I thought you’d… exile me out of your life.” She
said, with a taint of gloominess in her voice. Her fingers gently traced the
veins on the back of T’Challa’s hand. She took a deep breath, experiencing in
first person the feelings that occupied the mind and heart of the king. “Have
you always been this intense?” She giggled when she saw herself affected by the
“Only when the woman I’ve loved all my life is
wearing something like that.” T’Challa smiled slyly, not even feeling
intimidated by being busted. He let go of (Y/N)’s hands and stood up to take a
few steps next to her. “May I take the fun somewhere else?” He offered his
“Yes,” she nodded, taking the hand and standing
up, “you may…” Before T’Challa started to walk away with her, she tugged at his
arm and made him turn around to pull him closer to her and kiss those plump
lips that had hypnotized her all night long. His kiss was soft, and his hands
on her hips were even softer. She held on tightly to him, feeling every inch of
his body mold to hers and his muscles tightening. She pulled away, needing some
air to think straight. “Perhaps we could take the fun to my room… My king.” She breathed to his ear,
knowing the reaction it would have in him.
Prompt 27: Katniss’s father is an undocumented worker, Peeta is a sympathetic federal agent sent to investigate or an employer willing to do anything to help. [submitted by @567inpanem]
Author’s Note: I’m late (as usual) but I went for the second option on this one. I jumped at this prompt because of my own feeling about this whole situation. Hope I didn’t hijack a lovely prompt by being politically didactic. I relied on my experiences with my family regarding picking fruit and the migration of workers as they follow the different harvest, together with the research on how the ICE conducts raids in this current political climate. It’s a different world from when my grandfather was a migrant worker.
For the time being if you’d like to help my mom and sister move from Kentucky to upstate New York so that my mom can move in with me until she’s able to get on her feet (she’s single and out of work at the moment, has bad arthritis in her neck and shoulders and has worked in difficult and demanding jobs her whole life) it would mean so much to both me and them
The biggest expense she’s worried about is the move itself (shipping containers or a truck to haul whatever she can bring up here). I’m in the process of buying a house so I don’t have a lot I can spare to give her bc I gotta make sure the house is ready for us all to live in once I close on it. I know I’ve been asking for donations for myself to make my move easier but she needs it more than I do.
Please send anything you care to spare to my square cash which $devonrae or my PayPal which can be provided upon request. My mom is the reason I’m at where I am in life today and she’s worked so hard her whole life to take care of my sister and I and it’s her turn to be taken care of for once. Thank you for your time 💖
If you’ve ever wondered, the giant mantis footage over the opening
credits is from Son of Godzilla, which was the Godzilla movie
after this one. Also, the reason this episode will never be
released on DVD (and keeps getting taken down off YouTube) is because
Film Ventures International never owned the rights to it – they released it and sold it to MST3K illegally. Even more bizarre, this movie has in
common with Godzilla vs Megalon not only appearing on MST3K,
but being a Godzilla movie that was not originally supposed to
have Godzilla in it. Megalon was intended to be a
stand-alone Jet Jaguar vehicle, while Sea Monster would have
starred King Kong. The Fun Facts that surround this movie are more
entertaining than the movie itself!
The plan was in motion. Leonard and you were on his bike, Lisa and Cisco were in the truck, and Joe was in the car with Caitlin. Barry was setting up barricades all over town wherever there was traffic so the truck wouldn’t have to stop for any reason. You had a bad feeling about this and you couldn’t help but squeeze Leonard’s waist and parka tighter.
“What’s wrong?” His drawl was heard even in the loud noise and wind buzzing past your ears. You shook your head, “nothing.”
You didn’t want to worry him with your problems, especially when you knew deep down that he had an ulterior motive to helping. You loved Leonard Snart, but his criminal side infuriated you more than normal. Yet you could hardly bring yourself to hate him.
Now that you’ve had a fight with Negan, it’s time to figure out your own way
around the Sanctuary. And that begins with finding a guy named Dwight.
Negan, Elizabeth (My OC), Arat, Dwight
Warnings: Cursing, eventual smut, masturbation
*Don’t forget to read the other chapters! The masterlist is HERE.
you stalked away from Negan, you couldn’t believe what an absolute asshole he
was being (and you didn’t mean it jokingly this time). It was incredible what
an ass he was to you just because you told him you didn’t want to be his wife.
His ego was clearly out of control. You were furious.
10 Things I Learned Directing My First Feature Film - By Ari Bach
As many of you know, production recently finished on my first feature film, Jealous Gods. It was quite an educational experience. Here are a few of the most important lessons I learned while shooting the project:
Movies are all about sight and sound, the image and the audio track. Focus on expressing these senses rather than how your scenes smell, feel or taste, as those may not come across in the theater.
Nudity is almost never necessary. Though you may think it’s critical for a scene to tell the story or justify a character trait, I found by the end that I was able to direct all these things while wearing at least pants.
Blocking or choreographing the action is critical during rehearsals. Had we rehearsed the lead actor’s movements for the train track scene in rehearsal he might still be alive today.
Movie sets are just that- Sets. The toilets in them do not work even if they appear to be filled with water. Be sure your cast and crew know this as well.
Always maintain a professional atmosphere on set. Things can quickly degenerate into laughter or horseplay, and you may not be able to regain control before your gaffer sticks his penis in the wind machine. Again…
Be sure to tell the owners of any locations you use when you are starting to shoot and what you will be shooting, especially if you are shooting an improvised murder scene that you’ve cast their children in.
If you have a chase scene or car crash in your movie, use a devoted “crash car” instead of the truck containing the sensitive camera equipment, several actors and the ice sculpture prop.
When shooting a scene where a character eats, don’t make them eat an entire meal in every take, or if you must have them eat entire meals, give them a long bathroom break before the bear hug scene.
If you choose to save money by recording over your old footage, wait until you’ve transferred the original footage onto a computer first. If you fail to do this, lie to the cast and crew about why they must reshoot.
Never let ambitious crew members usurp your place as director. You must assert your position early on to maintain respect. For instance, the first time the cinematographer made a suggestion, I hit him quickly and harshly with my director’s 2x4. Once he was down on the floor, I administered a few harsh kicks to his side, followed by a resolute curb-stomping and taser to the eyes. Thus the crew is certain to respect my authority when I am released from prison in 2096 to continue the shoot.
The prison had seemed too far for you. You didn’t want to go back to your cell, walking past Daryl’s in the process, so you stayed out for the night. Now the cool wind nipped against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.
Subconsciously, your arms snaked around yourself, trying to hold the broken pieces of your heart together. Your teeth clattered, though the temperature was anything but freezing. Daryl’s harsh words must’ve created the cold feeling.
You glanced up to the stars, your chest feeling empty. You could no longer appreciate the beauty they held or the saddening fact that only after the apocalypse struck you could really see them. No longer feeling much of anything, other than the ground beneath your feet, you stood up.
But you footsteps didn’t near the prison’s doors, they didn’t take you closer to your warm bed; instead, they brought you to the front of the guard tower’s door. You knew someone would be on watch, and knowing there was no way you’d be sleeping tonight, decided to relive them.
The metal door creaked as you opened it to expose a dark staircase. You pulled a small flashlight from your pocket, one that would fit on a keychain. It flickered slightly before shining an inadequate ray of blue light forward. It was enough to see the first step, which was really all you needed.
You walked up the steps, a somewhat blurry sight ahead of you. You could feel your eyes moving, your feet landing on the hard ground, but everything else appeared as a blur.
You didn’t really take in who was keeping watch, they were a Woodbury survivor and tried to make small talk. But when you told them to go get some sleep, they were quick to take your offer.
Within a few hours, someone else had come to relieve you. Originally they were a little confused it was you up there and not the other person, but didn’t ask. You were thankful they didn’t pry. Of course, you told them you had everything under control, to which they responded with a ‘bullshit’. You gave them a small smile, your eyes a little heavier than before.
“Look, sleep a bit, I can tell you need it,” They smiled back, “I’ll go take watch in the other tower, if you want to be alone.” The offer was kind and extremely tempting. You imagined your figure. Obviously, you looked tired. Hell, you were hunched over yourself, not even paying attention to your surroundings. “The other tower has a better view anyway.”
You nodded, muttering a small thank you before moving to the small mattress just to the right of you. You cuddled into the thin blankets, a small amount of warmth beginning to overcome you.
They began climbing down the tower, leaving you alone to succumb to sleep.
The morning sun hadn’t woken you up, instead, an equally tired Michonne did.
“(Y/N),” Michonne called from the stairs. You snapped awake, eyes wide as the adrenaline began pumping through your body. But when no danger was near, you sighed, rubbing your eyes as you called back.
“Can you help us burn some of the bodies? We could use the help.” She asked, walking over to your figure. You raised your upper body onto your elbows, head hung back and eyes slowly adjusting to the harsh sun.
“Mhmm,” You mumbled, nodding softly as you began to stand up. She gave you a small smile, but you didn’t notice as you rolled your shoulders, stretching a bit. “Wait,” You realized, “who’s ‘us’?”
“Hershel and I. We’re leaving now, so come on sleepy-head.” She chuckled, walking down the stairs as you followed, still half asleep.
You walked out of the tower together, grass at your feet and conversations erupting around you. It’d been quieter recently, probably because half the prisons population was being treated or quarantined, but it didn’t stop the others from talking.
From across the field, you were caught in Daryl’s sight. He didn’t mean to stare, but the words you shared from the night before were haunting him just as much, if not more, than they were you. He walked as you walked, slightly hunched over from what he presumed lack of sleep.
You’d told him you loved him. That was something new for Daryl, extremely new. Of course, the word had been thrown around before, but that was simply Merle trying to convince him he was the only one that’d ever care for him. When in reality, he had you, Rick and the others. They cared about him, and you loved him.
He knew that feelings made you stupid, and stupid got you killed. So in effort to hide his heart from pain, to lock it in it’s own cell and throw away the key, he broke yours.
But that was the only way. You wouldn’t risk yourself for him. You wouldn’t save him, sacrificing yourself in the process. You wouldn’t die.
“So why were you sleeping up there?” Michonne questioned you, walking by your side to the red pick-up truck where Hershel stood. The bodies were already all loaded, but he was throwing some gasoline in there as well.
“I was uh–” You sighed, not really knowing what to say. “I just felt better out here last night.”
“Anything happen?” She hesitated, but nevertheless asked. You inhaled the crisp autumn air, the wind brushing against your face and ending your hair flying.
“I’ll tell you one day, Michonne. Just not today.” You mumbled, holding back the memories of last night. You could barely even look her in the eye.
“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” She comforted you, patting your shoulder softly before you both reached Hershel. He stood straight, smiling at you both.
“We ready to go, ladies?”
You threw the bodies on top of each other, not caring for delicacy as you did. You grabbed a walker by one of their remaining limbs and pulled the body from the truck. It collapsed hard to the ground, ad you used your strength to whip around, releasing the dead from your grip as you did so.
It was efficient, and got the job done. Part of you felt bad for the human’s they once were, but walkers weren’t them anymore. You knew that.
Gasoline coated them all like a blanket, dripping from one body to the next as you and Michonne tossed the flammable liquid over the pile.
Hershel threw a lit match into the centre, the bodies quickly catching flame. You stepped away, walking to place the half full container in the empty truck. But as you turned to face Hershel and Michonne, you saw a man you hadn’t seen in weeks.
The Governor’s gun connected with your face, swiftly knocking you out. Your legs gave out, leaving your body to collapse to the ground. Michonne watched with a glimpse of fear in her eyes, but only she reached behind herself to grab her sword– which wasn’t there, did she feel the terror take over her.
Hershel reached to grab his gun, pulling it out of it’s holster, but the Governor was quick to aim his own firearm their way. Hershel raised his hands as Michonne glared at the one-eyed man.
“Don’t make a move,” He begun threatening. He motioned to you. “or I’ll kill her.”
The Colorado Springs offices of the NAACP were attacked Tuesday morning in what’s almost certainly an attempt to inflict fear and terror upon black Americans and those who support them.
According to reports, an improvised explosive device was detonated on the side of the NAACP’s building, and the FBI confirmed that it was a deliberate attack. Officials are seeking a “person of interest,” described as a balding, white male in his 40s driving an older-model pick-up truck. A container of gasoline was left near the bomb, apparently with the intent to cause an even bigger explosion, but that part of the plot failed. The result was minor damage and no casualties.
In the current context of national protests about police brutality and racial justice, the effect of such an attack can’t be understated. But only after #NAACPBombing became a worldwide trending topic on Twitter did the incident start to become a national news story late Tuesday night.
This Reddit user’s dad did something with a hunk of junk that quite possibly made him the coolest person on the planet. He decided to buy an old fire rescue truck that was formerly used by German fire departments and tinker with it. However, he wasn’t interested in restoring the vehicle or keeping it as a collector’s item… instead, he did something much cooler with it.
This is what the truck looked like when he first purchased it.
It was a MAN FAE 8.136. It was built with custom support so that the bed in the back would always be flattened out and wouldn’t bend.
He fitted the floor with heating coils.
Then, he stripped down the cabin, sanded it and got it ready for a new paint job.
Already looking brand new.
Then, they began putting the walls together of the living space in the back.
Complete with a special power and heating unit.
The water and waste water tanks would be hidden by frames covered in seating.
Plenty of room for windows and doors in the back walls.
With the windows and hatches mounted into place.
The truck even contains it’s own cooling unit for the back.
And a custom-made elevator that could hold a motorcycle or other equipment.
The truck was also fitted with a cage with roof racks.
The spacious interior, with a bed for two.
Complete with a kitchen (double sink and electric stove).
There is also a full bathroom inside.
Not to mention bench seating and a fold-out table.
He converted an old truck into a BEAST of an RV.
You can take this thing almost anywhere…
And be completely comfortable while you do it.
The man who fixed up the rescue vehicle worked for Van Haandel Schadeherstel, a vehicle repair shop. Because of the off-roading mobile home’s success, they were able to expand the company and form Outbound4x4, an organization dedicated to providing the coolest excursion vehicles:
Through combining a shared passion for travel with motor vehicles, Outbound Expedition Vehicles came into being. Whether you decide to take in the wild and magnificent beauty of Scotland, travel across the Australian outback, pay a visit to the hot springs and geysers in Yellowstone National Park or admire the impressive glaciers, the beautiful nature and the many animals of Alaska, Outbound Expedition Vehicles is the right address for all these options.
Share this article if you think that this would make for an awesome vacation.
Spoiler: nobody benches anybody in this part. Second spoiler: but you get both Dickens AND Amanda. And things are considered, and actions are taken, and we will just see how it all shakes out. Earlier things and actions: amatterofcomplication’s masterpost, as always, plus part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5.
Helena has had the note from Artie near her, at the bookstore till, on her desk in the apartment, on the long table in the restoration room, for almost a week. It is an extremely sweet note, very similar in the meticulousness of its wording to the one he sent her, after. She had never thought of Artie as a person of great tact, but he surprised her then, and he has surprised her, now, again, by inviting her so delicately to his wedding to Vanessa Calder. He says that he will completely understand if she would prefer not to be reminded of that part of her life, but he has such fond memories of their time working together. And Vanessa does as well, of course, and would so love to see Helena again, on such a happy occasion, one that he has been so foolish to delay for so long because of doubts and uncertainties.
GM Bison, 1964. A gas-turbine powered prototype truck presented at the New York World’s Fair. The Bison featured GM’s proposal for a system of standardised cargo containers “which can be automatically loaded, unloaded, sorted and stored by electronically-controlled equipment”. Global dimensional standards for shipping containers didn’t come about until January 1968, however