Backups Quotes

But she wasn’t around, and that’s the thing when your parents die, you feel like instead of going in to every fight with backup, you are going into every fight alone.

What did Isabelle want?" Jace asked. Alec hesitated. "Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us." "Sure," said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour.

Shapeshifter parenting motto—if your kid slits somebody's throat, always have a backup plan to make the body disappear.

If I ever have any back-up dancers, I want the penguins from Madagascar.

I'm kind of a low-key guy. The spotlight doesn't suit me. I'm more of a side dish--cole slaw or French fries or a Wham! backup singer.

The second bathroom's downstairs - that's kind of the emergency backup bathroom when Shane's in there moussing his hair for like an hour or something...." "Bite me!" Shane yelled from behind the closed door.

Finally, Cinder gulped. "I'm sorry I had to --" She gestured at the unconscious wedding coordinator, then waved her hand like shaking it off. "But she'll be fine, I swear. Maybe a little nauseous when she comes to, but otherwise...And your android...Nainsi, right? I had to disable her. And her backup processor. But any mechanic can return her to defaults in about six seconds, so..." She rubbed anxiously at her wrist. "Oh, and we ran into your captain of the guard in the hallway, and a few other guards, and I may have scared him and he's, um, unconscious. Also. But, really, they'll all be fine. I swear." Her lips twitched into a brief, nervous smile. "Um...hello, again. By the way.

Tagged by a whiny little vamp. Rache, take this sword and stick it in me. Just go and stick it in me. I'm a back-drafted, crumpled-winged, dust-caked, dew-assed excuse of a backup. Worthless as a pixy condom. Taken down by my own partner. Just tape my ass shut and let me fart out my mouth.

i have survived far too much to go quietly let a meteor take me call the thunder for backup my death will be grand the land will crack the sun will eat itself - the day I leave

Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with is" Sure" said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour

What did Isabelle want?" Jace asked. Alec hesitated. "Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us." "Sure," said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour." Alec looked puzzled. "Who's Madonna?" "Who's the Queen of the Seelie Court?" said Clary. "She is the Queen of Faerie," said Magnus. "Well, the local one, anyway." Jace put his head in his hands. "Tell Isabelle no." "But she thinks it's a good idea," Alec protested. "Then tell her no twice.

Isabelle says the Queen of the Seelie Court has requested an audience with us." "Sure," said Magnus. "And Madonna wants me as a backup dancer on her next world tour." Alec looked puzzled. "Who's Madonna?" "Who's the Queen of the Seelie Court?" said Clary. "She is the Queen of Faerie," said Magnus. "Well, the local one, anyway." Jace put his head in his hands. "Tell Isabelle no." "But she thinks it's a good idea," Alec protested. "Then tell her no twice." Alec frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Oh, just that some of Isabelle's ideas are world-beaters and some are total disasters. Remember that idea she had about using abandoned subway tunnels to get around under the city? Talk about giant rats—" "Let's not," said Simon. "I'd rather not talk about rats at all, in fact.

If we feel like deers in headlights, let us tread lightly, back up for some time, and rebound later while building on our desire to empower our backbone and guts, restore our identity and kindle our fury of living. ("Resilience")

Never depend on those luck moments – they are gifts – but instead always build your own back-up plan.

[novan]: bassists are very good with their fingers [novan]: and some of us sing backup vocals, so that means we're good with our mouths too... (~ IM chat with Novan Chang, 18, bassist)

The dreams that you hold for your future are what you dream about at night. They’re always at the back of your mind. They’re what your heart desires. They keep you going. Accept reality and have a backup plan, but always follow your dreams no matter what.

And what if they win?” Burn demanded. “They won’t,” Scarlet said. “But of course killing them ourselves is a solid backup plan.” “Excuse me,” Tsunami interrupted. “You know we’re right over here, right? Don’t you want to hatch your evil plans somewhere more secretive?

At the last minute, she bobbed left so that he stabbed the wall she'd hit, trapping the blade in the Sheetrock. As he went to try to get the thing free, she whirled around and nailed him in the gut with her backup blade, springing a hole in his lower intestines. Meeting his shocked stare, she said, "What, like you didn't think I'd have a second knife? Fucking idiot.

Everything good in there, T? Niko quipped. You need backup or anything? Bag of marshmallows to roast over that little campfire you just started?

Simon whispered to me, “But is everything okay?” “No,” Tori said. “I kidnapped her and forced her to escape with me. I’ve been using her as a human shield against those guys with guns, and I was just about to strangle her and leave her body here to throw them off my trail. But then you showed up and foiled my evil plans. Lucky for you, though. You get to rescue poor little Chloe again and win her undying gratitude.” “Undying gratitude?” Simon looked at me. “Cool. Does that come with eternal servitude? If so, I like my eggs sunnyside up.” I smiled. “I’ll remember that.” *** “Oh, right. You must be starving.” Simon reached into his pockets. “I can offer one bruised apple and one brown banana. Convenience stores aren’t the place to buy fruit, as I keep telling someone.” “Better than these. For you, anyway, Simon.” Derek passed a bar to Tori. “Because you aren’t supposed to have those, are you?” I said. “Which reminds me…” I took out the insulin. “Derek said it’s your backup.” “So my dark secret is out.” “I didn’t know it was a secret.” “Not really. Just not something I advertise.” ... “Backup?” Tori said. “You mean he didn’t need that?” “Apparently not,” I murmured. Simon looked from her to me, confused, then understanding. “You guys thought…” “That if you didn’t get your medicine in the next twenty-four hours, you’d be dead?” I said. “Not exactly, but close. You know, the old ‘upping the ante with a fatal disease that needs medication’ twist. Apparently, it still works.” “Kind of a letdown, then, huh?” “No kidding. Here we were, expecting to find you minutes from death. Look at you, not even gasping.” “All right, then. Emergency medical situation, take two.” He leaped to his feet, staggered, keeled over, then lifted his head weakly. “Chloe? Is that you?” He coughed. “Do you have my insulin?” I placed it in his outstretched hand. “You saved my life,” he said. “How can I ever repay you?” “Undying servitude sounds good. I like my eggs scrambled.” He held up a piece of fruit. “Would you settle for a bruised apple?” I laughed.

Hey Boo, I'm in this now, too, & I got a lot of experience playing assholes like they're fucking harps. You need backup, I got you. Stop trying to convince yourself that you're in this alone.

Jesus had two Dads and he turned out okay.

Tomorrow is not another day; tomorrow is today's backup plan.

A spare. That’s all I ever was, I realize. A spare part kept in captivity. A backup weapon in the case that all else failed. Shatter me. Break glass in case of emergency.

What does it feel like to be alive? Living, you stand under a waterfall. You leave the sleeping shore deliberately; you shed your dusty clothes, pick your barefoot way over the high, slippery rocks, hold your breath, choose your footing, and step into the waterfall. The hard water pelts your skull, bangs in bits on your shoulders and arms. The strong water dashes down beside you and you feel it along your calves and thighs rising roughly backup, up to the roiling surface, full of bubbles that slide up your skin or break on you at full speed. Can you breathe here? Here where the force is the greatest and only the strength of your neck holds the river out of your face. Yes, you can breathe even here. You could learn to live like this. And you can, if you concentrate, even look out at the peaceful far bank where you try to raise your arms. What a racket in your ears, what a scattershot pummeling! It is time pounding at you, time. Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation's short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.

I wouldn't miss this fake-homo show for all the Gucci Shoes on Rodeo Drive.

Only wimps use tape backup. REAL men just upload their important stuff on ftp and let the rest of the world mirror it.

What kind of plan B?" Hale asked. He was almost holding his breath when a voice answered, "My kind." Macey tried to read the look on his face then, but it was gone in a flash. It had been a simple moment of peace and joy and pure happiness. That voice made Hale happy. It kept him calm. It was his backup and his conscience. Macey couldn't help herself, she envied him.

You know the law, Dresden." "He who kills the cheer springs for beer," chanted the rest of the table.

He's Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull, with a big leather coat and a .44 revolver in his pocket.

You need backup, I got you. Stop trying to convice yourself that you’re in this alone.

I'm feeling pretty motivated," Dylan said. "Cuz the sooner you leave, the sooner Alec and I can get back to that sex swing." Tyler paused in the midst of picking up the remaining boxes. "Alex doesn't have a sew swing." The grin that hijacked Dylan's face was huge. "He does now.

How you figure that, grom? Your mother’s the Destroyer. It’s a title she not only earned, but one she relishes. And you’re sending me in with only a few Charonte as backup. What did I ever do to you? (Savitar) Man up, Sav. You’re whining like a little girl. (Acheron) If your mother has her way, she’ll turn me into one, and I look like shit in pink. Thanks, kid. (Savitar)

Who takes the Pandorica takes the Universe. But bad news everyone. 'Cause guess who! Hah! Listen, you lot, you're all whizzing about. It's really very distracting. Could you all just stay still a minute because I. AM. TALKING! Now, the question of the hour is, who's got the Pandorica? Answer: I do. Next question: Who's coming to take it from me? Come on! Look at me! No plan, no back-up, no weapons worth a damn, oh, and something else. I don't have anything to lose. So if you're sitting up there in your silly little spaceship with all your silly little guns and you've got any plans on taking the Pandorica tonight, just remember who's standing in your way! Remember! Every black day I ever stopped you! And then! And then! Do the smart thing! Let somebody else try first.

You’re not a fucking backup plan, Cami! Why are you letting someone treat you like one?

Three questions," I said. "First: Thor has a giantess friend?" "Yes," Blitz said. "Not all giants are bad." "Second: do all giantess names begin with G?" "No." "Last question: "Thor is a martial artist? Does he have, like, backup nunchucks, too?

And Raphael will be joining us,” Andrea said. “So you get twice the backup. Nobody will be killing you on our watch.” So that was what this was all about. I got a cookie after all. “Aww. I had no idea you cared. I’m touched.” “You should be.” Andrea bit another bacon slice. “I’m willing to abandon the tender embrace of my future mother-in-law for your sake.” “About that,” Aunt B said. “I’m coming, too.” Dear God, the cookie was poisoned." 12% in 'Magic Rises' by Ilona Andrews

A backup plan means somewhere in my head, I think I might fail and that word is not in my vocabulary. Plus I'm too talented to fail.

Ty rolled his eyes. He reached to the small of his back and took out the backup gun he’d taken off one of the bodies, checking it before handing it to Deuce. “Put that under your pillow.” Deuce looked down at it with a heavy sigh but didn’t take it. “Yeah, okay. But you can keep that. My regular schedule doesn’t involve shooting myself in the ass in the morning

All I need is backup. He’s the little angel that sits on my shoulder whispering in my ear, “You can do it!” It’s funny. I’m thirty years old now and I still feel like a little girl. I’m still looking around to check and see what other people are doing to make sure I’m not completely different; I’m still looking around for help, hoping for a quick nudge and a whisper of advice. But I can’t seem to be able to catch anybody’s eye. Nobody else around me seems to be looking around and wondering what to do. Why is it that I feel like I’m the only person who is confused and concerned about the choices I’ve made and where I’m headed? Everywhere I look, I see people just getting on with it. Maybe I should just follow suit and get on with it.

Tagged by a whiny little vamp," he said gesturing. "Rache, take this sword and stick it in me. Just go and stick it in me. I'm a back-drafted, crumpled-winged, dust-caked, dew-assed excuse of a backup. Worthless as a pixy condom. Taken down by my own partner. Just tape my ass shut and let me fart out my mouth.

Let's get something clear up front. I'm not Harry Dresden. Harry's a wizard. A genuine, honest-to-goodness wizard. He's Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull, with a big leather coat and a .44 revolver in his pocket. He'll spit in the eye of gods and demons alike if he thinks it needs to be done, and to hell with the consequences -- and yet somehow my little brother manages to remain a decent human being. I'll be damned if I know how. But then, I'll be damned regardless. My name is Thomas Raith, and I'm a monster.

You’re basically Sophie’s telepathic backup, aren’t you? Is that why you’re so bothered about what happened at the storehouse? She was supposed to need you, and she didn’t?

Always have a backup plan to the backup plan.

What we could really use is some loud, unequivocal backup. Or, I guess, front-up. And not just in public, when the tide of opinion has already turned and a little “woke”-ness might benefit you—but in private, when it can hurt.

Four shapeshifters are missing, the office smells like blood, you see some weird woman in a transparent gown who clearly shouldn't be in the building, and you run after her?" "It's my job to run after her." "Without backup?" "I am the backup.

And you can keep the pin.” “Uh-uh, it’s yours.” “But you want it.” “And I want you to have it! So how about we call him ours? Will name Krakie, and he can live right here.” He pointed to the bandage covering her right hand. “That way Krakie can protect you from the echo – not that you need protection. He’ll just be your backup.” 246 His smile softened into something that made Sophie’s cheeks warm. And her heart seem to trip over itself as he leaned close and carefully pinned Krakie to the back of her hand, right in the center. His palm rested over her is when he finished, and she got the sense that there was something he wasn’t saying. But then his eyes skipped past her, landing on Fitz for a beat before he shifted his focus.

The Heir and the Spare—there was no judgment about it, but also no ambiguity. I was the shadow, the support, the Plan B. I was brought into the world in case something happened to Willy. I was summoned to provide backup, distraction, diversion and, if necessary, a spare part. Kidney, perhaps. Blood transfusion. Speck of bone marrow. This was all made explicitly clear to me from the start of life’s journey and regularly reinforced thereafter.

The woman I wanted to spend my life with was gone. I wasn’t in the mood to find a backup.

They walked to school, talking about how much they were longing for the summer holidays. "Oh, I am planning things," said Jamie. "Great, great things. I could join a band." "You gave up the guitar after two lessons." "Well," he said, "I could be a backup dancer." "Backup dancers have to wear belly shirts and glitter," said Mae. "So obviously, I support this plan.

And you can keep the pin.” “Uh-uh, it’s yours.” “But you want it.” “And I want you to have it! So how about we call him ours? Will name Krakie, and he can live right here.” Keefe pointed to the bandage covering her right hand. “That way Krakie can protect you from the echo – not that you need protection. He’ll just be your backup.

You run?” “Yup. I have a love affair going on with food

I'm the one shot, the heir and the spare, so you have to make damn sure your one investment pays off because there's no backup.

How could I ask for a better friend? Someone who gives me a backup plan. Instead of someone who makes me the backup plan.

They see the water reclaimer as a critical survival element. There’s no backup, and they think I’ll die instantly without it. To them, equipment failure is terrifying. To me, it’s “Tuesday.

Alec sounded defeated. "You just don't know when to shut up, do you?" "It's a gift," Dylan said.

A good strategy should dictate the right actions. Any action mustn't be impulsive, but analyzed along with all its possible outcomes. A solid plan always includes many backups and alternatives.

Did you at least get the maintenance history on the bike?” “Uh…” Alec scratched the back of his neck. “It was kind of an impulse buy.” “Candy, gum, and porno magazines are impulse buys,” Dylan said drily. “Not motorcycles.

Even officers who don't approve of your lifestyle choices would still take you as backup over Kirkland, or most anyone else. They'd say how you're bad for shaking up with vampires and wereleopards, but in a firefight they'd take your vampire-loving, furry-fucking ass over most anyone else's.

You are far too amazing to be someone's backup. You're someone's first choice.

When the person you hit doesn’t have the grace to fall over, it’s generally best to have a backup plan.

I don’t believe we should carry backup plans in life’s suitcase— they’re too easy to unpack like living a life in yoga pants, so comfortable our hips spread into new timezones...

1. Society needs laws. While anarchy can often turn a humdrum weekend into something unforgettable, eventually the mob must be kept from stealing the conch and killing Piggy. And while it would be nice if that "something" was simple human decency, anybody who has witnessed the "50% Off Wedding Dress Sale" at Filene's Basement knows we need a backup plan—preferably in writing. On the other hand, too many laws can result in outright tyranny, particularly if one of those laws is "Kneel before Zod." Somewhere between these two extremes lies the legislative sweet-spot that produces just the right amount of laws for a well-adjusted society—more than zero, less than fascism.

My backup plan is to challenge Bearbreaker to single combat, defeat him, become Queen of the Zerkers and spend the rest of my life riding a giant motorcycle over frozen tundra.

And there's no such thing as too much back-up.

Please?” asked the girl. “I AM BUSY. I AM TRYING TO FIX CONTINENTAL DRIFT.” “I…didn’t know it was broken.” Uriel’s face became more animated, his speech faster. “IT HAS BEEN BROKEN FOR FIVE WEEKS AND FIVE DAYS. I THINK IT BROKE WHEN I RELOADED NEW ZEALAND FROM A BACKUP COPY, BUT I DO NOT KNOW WHY. MY SYNCHRONIZATION WAS IMPECCABLE AND THE CHANGE PROPAGATED SIMULTANEOUSLY ACROSS ALL SEPHIROT. I THINK SOMEBODY BOILED A GOAT IN ITS MOTHER’S MILK. IT IS ALWAYS THAT. I KEEP TELLING PEOPLE NOT TO DO IT, BUT NOBODY LISTENS.

What happened to you?” Seth was out of his chair and circling her. “You look like Britney Spears, back when she was dating backup dancers and walking around gas stations barefoot.

It’s my job to run after her.” “Without backup?” “I am the backup.

He wouldn't just be facing her, he thought with genuine, back-sweating fear, but all of them. The four of them, with Mrs. Grady for backup. They'd roast his balls.

Backup backpacks.

I want to talk about creating your life. There’s a quote I love, from the poet Mary Oliver, that goes: Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? I so clearly remember what it was like, being young and always in the grip of some big fat daydream. I wanted to be a writer always, but more than that, I wanted to have an extraordinary life. I’m sure I dreamed it a million different ways, and that plenty of them were ridiculous, but I think the daydreams were training for writing, and I also think they spurred me to pursue my dreams for real. Daydreaming, however awesome it is, is passive. It happens in your head. Learning to make dreams real is another matter, and I think it should be the work of your life. Everyone’s life, whatever their dream (unless their dream is to be an axe murderer or something.) It took me a while to finish a book. Too long. And you know, it doesn’t matter how good a writer you are unless you finish what you start! I think this is the hardest part for most people who want to write. I was in my mid-30s before I figured it out. The brain plays tricks. You can be convinced you’re following your dream, or that you’re going to start tomorrow, and years can pass like that. Years. The thing is, there will be pressure to adjust your expectations, always shrinking them, shrinking, shrinking, until they fit in your pocket like a folded slip of paper, and you know what happens to folded slips of paper in your pocket. They go through the wash and get ruined. Don’t ever put your dream in your pocket. If you have to put it somewhere, get one of those holsters for your belt, like my dad has for his phone, so you can whip it out at any moment. Hello there, dream. Also, don’t be realistic. The word “realistic” is poison. Who decides? And “backup plan” is code for, “Give up on your dreams,” and everyone I know who put any energy into a backup plan is now living that backup plan instead of their dream. Put all your energy into your dream. That’s the only way it will ever become real. The world at large has this attitude, “What makes you so special that you think you deserve an extraordinary life?” Personally, I think the passion for an extraordinary life, and the courage to pursue it, is what makes us special. And I don’t even think of it as an “extraordinary life” anymore so much as simple happiness. It’s rarer than it should be, and I believe it comes from creating a life that fits you perfectly, not taking what’s already there, but making your own from scratch. You can let life happen to you, or you can happen to life. It’s harder, but so much better.

Connect with supportive people who empower you. The more you jump into your life, the further away from Ed you can get. Don’t have a backup plan for living. Live today. […] Trust in God. Believe in yourself. Get friends and family members to stand behind you. That’s the only backup you’ll need.

It’s breaking my heart the way this world is so mean to people with pure intentions and soft hearts. With time I’ve seen much cruelty towards good people that instead of being cherished, they are actually being used. Instead of being appreciated and valued, they are being taken for granted and considered as an option or a backup plan. Because whenever those ones are needed they gonna be there and their doors are always wide open. So there is no need to wonder why this world is only getting filthier and uglier. Since we have always been ruining everything beautiful left around . even those rare, kind and loving souls in our life...

That’s tough. Anything I can do?” “Just stay in play as my backup.” I nearly swerved the car off the road. “I’m sorry—your backup?” “You know, in case it doesn’t work out with Fallon.” “And what about Ethan?” Jeff chuckled. “I just figured he was your backup for me.

I had to take a moment to wonder who else fell into this category of default enemy. I went through a mental list of people who, in theory, I’d want to hit in the face with a meat tenderizer. My coworker from ten years ago who owes me like three grand? It was ten years ago! You were addicted to OxyContin! Go! Be free! My seventh-grade teacher, who told me that most child actors don’t succeed as adult actors? You just wanted to scare me into having a backup plan! Farewell! Good luck! Tori from fourth grade, who accused me of writing mean stuff about all our friends on the playground wall? BURN IN HELL, TORI. I KNOW IT WAS YOU!!! I’m still working on it.

Convincing - and confident - disciplines, say, physics, tend to use little statistical backup, while political science and economics, which have never produced anything of note, are full of elaborate statistics and statistical “evidence” (and you know that once you remove the smoke, the evidence is not evidence).

Blitzen clapped my shoulder. "Good luck, kid. I'll be waiting at the exit to pull you out. Unless Hearth needs backup..." He glanced at the elf as if hoping for more details besides I have it covered. Hearthstone signed, I have it covered.

I think I need to give you a hockeymacation.” “Hockeymacation?” “Yes, I am going to school you in the art of hockey" “What! Seriously?” “Yes, you need to be educated.

A long-standing commitment to living in the present—because screw the past. She was a done deal. And screw the future cuz she was a fickle bitch.

That wasn't so bad," I said. It wasn't bad at all, really. The nerve-racking buildup had been the worse part. The Chancellor was sweating like a pig, but this was nothing new. I smiled gratefully at Tove. It had been nice having him at my side. Backup and support were never a bad thing. "Those little hobgoblins freak me out." Duncan shuddered at the thought of Ludlow. "I don't know how they can live with them." "I'm sure they think the same thing about you," Finn muttered.

Peabody, are you wearing a cross?" "What? Me?" Her cheeks went pink as she clear her throat. "It just happened that I know Mariella in Records, who just happened to have one, and I happened to borrow it. Just for backup." "I see. And would you also be carrying a pointy stick?" "Not unless you mean McNab." Eve stopped at a light and turned around in her seat. "Repeat after me: Vampires do not exist." "Vampires do not exist," Peabody recited.

Waiting for him I check behind me, to be sure I haven’t accidentally activated my backup tank of oxygen, and that’s when I notice the universe. The scale is graphically shocking. The colors, too. The incongruity is stupefying: there I was, inside a small box, but now—how is this possible?

So they wanted to take Tansy to a different doctor and her husband refused", Ryland said. "I wonder why he would do that." He frowned and leanede close to Kadan, sniffing. "Cinnamon?" "Shut the hell up", Kadan said and pushed past him. Ryland took another whiff and gave a low whistle."You smeel yummy. I'm getting hungry. Maybe cinnamon buns". Kadan flipped him off rudely. Nico stood waiting by the front door. As always he was their backup. He frowned when the two Ghostwalkers got close. "What the hell is that smell?" "Kadan's new spicy cologne". "Go to hell Rye", Kadan said ans shot him a look thaty should have withered him on the spot. "Both of you can go to hell". "I think his blood sugar's dropping", Ryland explained. "Must have been all the cinnamon candy he got tonight".

This is starting to look less like a rescue mission and more like you going on a leisurely road trip with two hot chicks,” Nine grumbles. Sarah rolls her eyes. I glare at Nine. “It’s not like that. You know we need you here, in case something happens.” “Yeah, I’m backup,” he snorts. “Johnny, do I have to start dating you to get some action around here?” Sarah winks at him. “It might help.” Nine looks me over. “Ugh. Not worth it.

Grace doesn't grease the wheels of the law. Grace isn't God's way of jury rigging a broken law. It's the other way around. The law is just one small cog in a world animated entirely--from top to bottom, from beginning to end--by grace.

I’d have to prove to everyone, including Ellia, that I was more than some guy she used to know, that what we shared had and still mattered. She may have forgotten the promise we made on the beach, but I hadn’t, and it was up to me to backup those words with action. Memories and ghosts were for the dead. Living things moved, and I was never one to stand still." ~Liam

Prepare to evacuate soul in ten, in nine, eight. Chloe's splashing through the ankle-deep back-up of renal fluid from her failed kidneys. Death will commence in five. Five, four. Around her, a parasitic life spray paints her heart. Four, three. Three, two. Chloe climbs hand-over-hand up the curled lining of her own throat. Death to commence in three, two. Moonlight shines in through the open mout... h. Prepare for the last breath, now. Evacuate. Now. Soul clear of body. Death commences. Now.

Wesley, you asshole,” Eriksson says. “Aren’t you going to tell us?” “Tell you what?” I growl. My sex life is none of their goddamn business. “How is he? Jesus Christ. The TV news makes it sound like your boyfriend might be getting last rites.” My fingers falter on the buttons of my bright green checked shirt. “W-what?” Our backup goalie Tomilson speaks up wryly. “I think what Mr. Sensitive is trying to ask is, is your partner okay?

Backup?" Tori said. "You mean he didn't need that?" "Apparently not," I murmured. Simon looked from her to me, confused, then understanding. "You guys thought..." "That if you didn't get your medicine in the next twenty-four hours, you'd be dead?" I said. "Not exactly, but close. You know, the old 'upping the ante with a fatal disease that needs medication' twist. Apparently, it still works." "Kind of a letdown, then, huh?" "No kidding. Here we were, expecting to find you minutes from death. Look at you, not even gasping." "All right, then. Emergency medical situation, take two." He leaped to his feet, staggered, keeled over, then lifted his head weakly. "Chloe? Is that you?" He coughed. "Do you have my insulin?" I placed it in his outstretched hand. "You saved my life," he said. "How can I ever repay you?" "Undying servitude sounds good. I like my eggs scrambled." He held up a piece of fruit. "Would you settle for a bruised apple?

If something happened to Suzanne I don’t think I would want to go through with finding somebody else either. I’d feel quite lost without her. It would be like separating Siamese twins, as we’ve been through everything together. Which can also be handy, as my memory isn’t what it used to be, so I use hers as my back-up memory drive. Meeting someone new would be like getting a new phone. You have to start again, input all of your information into them while trying to get to know their functions.

Although he was a young and virile man at 37, he was not inexhaustible. In addition to food and drink, he had better lay in a couple thousand tablets of viagra. The drug would probably remain potent if he vacuum packed the pills in groups of 10 and kept them in a freezer. That would work unless civilization completely collapsed and power companies were unable to function. Fortunately, Jim had a propane-powered backup generator with half a dozen tanks of fuel already on hand. If Henry added to the propane supply, and he used the generator only for essential maintenance like keeping the viagra freezer operating in warm weather, he would be happy here on the farm for a looong, looong time. Unless, even now, dead Jim was out there in the generator shed sabotaging the machinery.

Q: Your warehouse workers work 11/5-hour shifts. In order to make rate, a significant number of them need to take over-the-counter painkillers multiple times per shift, which means regular backups at the medical office. Do you: A. Scale back the rate ---clearly, workers are at their physical limits B. Make shifts shorter C. Increase the number or duration of breaks D. Increase staffing at the nurse's office E. Install vending machines to dispense painkillers more efficiently Seriously---what kind of fucking sociopath goes with E?

How many are we talking about? What percentage of females in Chicago are ready to have sex with you right now? What happens if one of them needs to travel? Do they have a phone tree? Is there a coverage plan or a backup plan for emergencies?” Quinn covered the bottom half of his mouth with his free hand, too late to mask the smile, his shoulders started shaking with silent laughter. I continued, feeling a little better knowing that he was able to laugh at himself, “Is there entry criteria? An established search committee? An interview process? Skills test? What kind of radius do you require? Do you have one circling the block now? Do you always keep one nearby? Was there one at the restaurant? At the bar maybe?

Leila, I love you so much that it’s sometimes hard for me to breathe. You have changed my life. You have altered every cell in my body. You completely own me. By simply staring into my eyes, you can bring me to my knees. I want you to know, I will do everything in my power to make you happy. I will laugh with you. I will cry with you. I will keep you safe. I will remind you how much I love you every day for the rest of our lives.

there are girls lined along the street, girls in miniskirts, thigh-highs, and halter tops. The girls stand at the curbs as cars cruise by. Key-lime Cadillac's, fire-red Tornadoes, wide-mouthed, trolling Lincolns, all in perfect shape. Chrome glints. Hubcaps shine. Not a single rust spot anywhere. But now the gleaming cars are slowing. Windows are rolling down and girls are bending to chat with the drivers. There are calls back and forth, the lifting of already miniscule skirts, and sometimes a flash of breast or an obscene gesture, the girls working it, laughing, high enough by 5am to be numb to the rawness between their legs and the residues of men no amount of perfume can get rid of. It isn't easy to keep yourself clean on the street, and by this hour each of those young women smells in the places that count like a very ripe, soft French cheese…They're numb, too, to thoughts of babies left at home, six month olds with bad colds lying in used cribs, sucking on pacifiers, and having a hard time breathing…numb to the lingering taste of semen in their mouths along with peppermint gum, most of these girls, no more than 18, this curb on 12th street their first real place of employment, the most the country has to offer in the way of a vocation. Where are they going to go from here? They're numb to that, too, except for a couple who have dreams of singing backup or opening up a hair shop...

Webs barely had time to say “What?” before Cirrus was suddenly on his back, pinning him to the ground. His wounds from the SkyWing soldiers flared up with bright new pain. One wing was twisted behind him, and he could feel the IceWing’s serrated claws digging into his scales. “What are you doing?” Webs yelped. “I’m one of you! I’ve been with the Talons of Peace for seven years!” “And you failed us,” Cirrus hissed. “Now, now —” Nautilus said, then paused. “No, that’s fair.” “I’m going to dig your heart out and feed it to the fish,” Cirrus growled. Won’t that be ironic. Webs thought gloomily of the fish he’d just eaten. “But we’re the dragons for peace,” he said, his teeth gritted with pain. “If we kill each other, aren’t we as bad as Burn and Blister and Blaze?” “Sorry, Webs,” Nautilus said. “Peace is more important than any one dragon. And you would disrupt our backup plan. We’re doing this for your own good. For the prophecy. For peace.” Webs

You know, Piggly Wiggly never could hang on to a night stock manager. Your math skills would be a plus, maybe even your Spanish, and you don't mind staying up late." "Piggly Wiggly, wow. I hadn't thought about that. I'll swing by, pick up an application tomorrow. But if it doesn't pan out maybe ... Never mind, it's a crazy idea." "No, tell me. I want to hear it." "Well, just as a backup plan, I did hear that Sony has an opening. They're, um, they're looking for a rock star. The hours suck, but it's no worse than night stock manager at Pigs. I bet it pays better too." Isabel stopped in her tracks, playfully slapping his arm. "Aidan, that's genius! That's what you should do! I've heard you sing, you can carry a decent tune." She looked him up and down. "With a little work, you can probably pull off the image." He tugged on her arms until she was in his. "Only if you're sure. Only if it's what we want." "Aidan, it's who you are. I've known it since the day we brought that first guitar here. I'd never want to take that away.

Aaron opened his mouth, closed it again, and fixed Nicky with an annoyed look. "You're explaining this to Andrew when he gets back." "Oh, hell no," Nicky said, and jerked a thumb at Neil. "I'mma leave that one to him. Thanks for taking one for the team, Neil. You're a real friend." Nicky grinned over at Neil, but his amusement didn't last. He seemed confused by whatever he saw on Neil's face and backpedaled with, "Don't worry, we'll send Renee along with you for backup. Last I checked Andrew only wins half their fights, so you might actually survive. Uh. Neil?" He should just let it go, or at least leave it to think about later, but Neil couldn't resist. "Are we?" he asked, because hadn't Betsy said it just a few days ago? He hadn't understood it then and hadn't even tried, too angry and upset over everything else that was happening. Tonight it almost meant something, though what, Neil didn't know. Realizing Nicky couldn't follow his twisting train of thought, Neil forced himself to say, "Friends?" It was like that one word punched all the joy out of Nicky, but the look that crossed Nicky's face next was too fast for Neil to decipher. Nicky's smile was back a second later, but it didn't reach his eyes. Neil might have apologized, except Nicky reached out and scrubbed a gloved hand through Neil's hair. "You are going to be the absolute death of me," Nicky said. "Yeah, kid. We're friends. You're stuck with us, like it or not.

I opened the bag and pulled out a small box of chocolates. “Happy anniversary.” “Oh. Thanks.” She flashed me a huge smile that would have looked totally real … if I didn’t know her better. “Simon said that’s what I should get you. That or flowers. So you like it?” “Sure.” “Liar.” Her face went bright red now as she stammered, “N-no, really. It’s great. It’s—” “Completely and totally impersonal. Like something you’d buy in bulk for all your teachers.” “No, I like this kind. You know I do and—” She stopped as I held out the bag. “Your real gift,” I said. She looked in and let out a choking laugh. Then, still grinning, she reached in and pulled out a penlight, a Swiss army knife and a purse-sized can of mace. She sputtered another laugh. “This is …” “Practical?” I said. “In my life, it is definitely practical. But I was going to say thoughtful.” She smiled up at me. “The most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” “And the most completely unromantic? Simon almost had a heart attack when I showed him. He made me get the chocolates, as a backup.” “I’m sure he did. Which I suppose explains why I ended up with you instead.” She rose on tiptoes again and put her arms around my neck. “Because buying me gifts to keep me safe? That’s my idea of romantic.”

I’ve had enough I’m sick of seeing and touching Both sides of things Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody Nobody Can talk to anybody Without me Right? I explain my mother to my father my father to my little sister My little sister to my brother my brother to the white feminists The white feminists to the Black church folks the Black church folks to the ex-hippies the ex-hippies to the Black separatists the Black separatists to the artists the artists to my friends’ parents… Then I’ve got to explain myself To everybody I do more translating Than the Gawdamn U.N. Forget it I’m sick of it. I’m sick of filling in your gaps Sick of being your insurance against the isolation of your self-imposed limitations Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people Find another connection to the rest of the world Find something else to make you legitimate Find some other way to be political and hip I will not be the bridge to your womanhood Your manhood Your humanness I’m sick of reminding you not to Close off too tight for too long I’m sick of mediating with your worst self On behalf of your better selves I am sick Of having to remind you To breathe Before you suffocate Your own fool self Forget it Stretch or drown Evolve or die The bridge I must be Is the bridge to my own power I must translate My own fears Mediate My own weaknesses I must be the bridge to nowhere But my true self And then I will be useful