text:
Pairing: Steve/Tony, OMC/Tony (reference)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers.
Rating: nc17/18
Word Count: 8743
Note: In the comics Tony Stark has blue eyes, so mine has too. The poem is taken from Neon Genesis Evangelion.
Summary: After Harry's burial, Tony stays at his grave for the rest of the day and throughout the night.
Butterfly of Courage
Mountains. Heavy are the mountains, but that changes with the passage of time.
Sky, blue sky. What your eyes can't see. What your eyes can see.
The Sun. One, only one.
Water. It is agreeable.
Flowers. So many the same. So many without purpose.
Sky. Sky of red. Red the color, the color I hate.
The liquid flows, it drips, ripples and pours.
Blood. Scent of blood. A woman who does not bleed.
From the red soil the humans come.
Humans made by man and woman.
City, a human creation.
Terror, a human creation as well.
What are humans?
Are they creations of God?
Humans, that which is created by humans.
This is that which is mine, my life, my heart. I am a vessel for my thoughts.
A throne for the soul.
Who is this? This is me.
Who am I? What am I?
I am I. This object that is, is myself. That which forms, is me.
This is the self that can be seen, and yet this is not like that which is myself.
A strange feeling. My body feels as if it is melting.
I can no longer see myself. My form, my shape fades from view.
Awareness dawns of someone who is not me.
Who is here, there, beyond me here?
This person I know
Rhodey. Stealing.
Natasha. Hitting.
Bruce. Hulking.
Pepper. Taking.
Thor. Booming.
Clint. Silencing.
Happy. Driving.
Fury. Gloating.
Coulson. Disapproving.
Harry. Loving.
Steve. Betraying
Who are you?
After Harry's burial, Tony stayed at his grave for the rest of the day and throughout the night. He leaned against the beautiful marble stone, switching between total and complete apathy to bouts of incontrollable sobbing.
The day after it rained, but he didn't move. He was too indifferent to realize his driver and bodyguard, the one who'd replaced Happy, had spent the night waiting for him, leaning against the car. He was now kneeling next to him silently, holding a black umbrella and shading him from the worst of the elements.
That man, Roman Parnell, had worked for Tony for two years by then. When Harry had realised Tony didn't have any personal protection he'd immediately began researching, eventually finding Roman and assigned him to Tony.
Apart from Harry, Roman was undoubtedly his only friend. And now that Harry was dead? Probably the only one he had left. Because the man Tony loved, who had loved and cherished him back, who'd taken care of him and had offered him everything, was buried six foot under Tony, slowly rotting and getting eaten by putrid and disgusting insects. What would become of Harry's beautiful face?
Tony shuddered and it had nothing to do with the cold that had settled into his very bones.
"Come on, boss," Roman murmured gently as he ran a hand through his damp hair. "Let's go home."
Tony didn't have enough strength to tell Roman his home was now decaying in the earth.
Tony had expected the drop in the stock exchange concerning Stark Industries. Everyone waited with bated breath for him to break down and start drinking again.
What they didn't expect, however, was for Tony to bury himself in his work and double his production rate in three weeks.
"Hey boss," Roman called, gently kicking the chair where Tony sat, bent over a worktable with his blowtorch in hand. "Ya haven't been out for four days. Let's go on a stroll."
Without waiting for Tony to answer, the tall, black man plucked the blowtorch out of Tony's hand and turned it off, before grabbing Tony by the arm and literally dragged him out of the lab. He pushed him towards Tony's room and forced him into the bathroom. While Tony showered, he grabbed a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and a black leather jacket, putting them on the chair next to the bathroom door. He sat at the foot of the bed, leaned back on his elbows and sighed.
Tony emerged an hour later, freshly shaven and hair combed back. He dressed slowly, as if every muscle in his body hurt and stood in front of Roman.
"Sharp," the black man approved. "C'mon, let's go."
They didn't go anywhere specific actually. Roman just drove around, stopping on the side of the road above the hills of Hollywood and they simply sat on the hood of the car, eating strawberries and drinking coca.
"What should I do, Rome?" Tony asked after a while, gazing at the setting sun with an expressionless face.
Roman shrugged. "Keep on, I guess," he answered simply, doing his best not to wince at the sound of Tony's hoarse voice. It was the first time Tony had talked since the funeral.
"And if I don't want to?" Tony whispered brokenly.
Roman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Then you don't."
Tony spent every Tuesday (the day Harry died) at his grave. He just sat and stared at the engraved words, sometimes talking to Harry, sometimes humming to him and sometimes just in silence.
"Came here to gloat?"
Steve was standing behind Tony, several feet away, flowers in his hands. "I would never do something like that," he replied quietly.
Tony shrugged. "I wouldn't know," he muttered, "I wonder if I ever did."
Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat and took the steps separating him from Tony. He knelt gingerly and deposited the flowers against the grave stone. "I knew you loved him," he said softly, "I wouldn't ridicule his memory by doing something so hurtful to you," he stated calmly.
Tony scoffed disbelievingly. "I can't trust you on anything."
Steve froze at that, nodding slowly and painfully. "Will you be able to forgive me one day?"
Tony's head whirled in his direction so fast, Steve actually flinched. "It is neither the time nor the place to assuage your petty conscience," Tony snarled, blue eyes blazing with fury. "You don't have any right to come here and ask me that! Not in front of Harry!" he yelled, standing and walking back to the car where Roman was waiting for him.
Steve scrambled after him, his hand on Tony's shoulder turning the shorter man around. "When is the right time then?" he asked desperately. "Do I even stand a chance?"
Tony choked back on an angry sob and wrenched himself out of Steve's grip. "You had your chance!" he screamed, his fist lashing out against Steve's chest. "But you blew it! You had me! I loved you so, so much, you bastard! I loved you so much!" He repeated in a broken voice. "But it wasn't enough! I'm never enough!" he rasped. "I'm always lacking, aren't I, Steve? There's always something wrong with me. I push people away, don't I? My mom left me with a man who never loved me, Pepper left me because I was doing the right thing but she couldn't handle it and you left me because I wasn't good enough—"
"No, Tony—" but Steve was interrupted by Tony hitting him again.
"What didn't I give you? Why wasn't I enough for you?" he cried miserably.
He rubbed his face with hands that shook, and suddenly Tony screamed. Screamed with every cell in his body, screamed until his voice broke and his throat refused to utter any more sounds.
Steve had Tony wrapped in his arms, supporting him when his legs buckled and they fell on the ground, Tony straddling Steve's laps who rocked him in the cradle of his arms. "And what am I gonna do now?" Tony whispered flatly, every string cruelly cut off from his body.
Unable to do anything.
Unable to even resist Steve's embrace.
"What am I gonna do without Harry?" he asked pleadingly, tears falling freely from his blue eyes. "Why did he leave me too?" he sobbed. "I don't understand anymore."
Steve closed his eyes, unchecked tears falling down his cheeks. "I don't know, baby. I don't get it either."
Tony didn't dream this time.
He slashed his wrists and closed his eyes.
He woke up three weeks later, bright white bandages around his wrists, bright white hospital room surrounding him, bright white nothing swallowing him.
He called for Harry but he never came.
He was lost and couldn't return.
Steve sat at his bedside during the time he was hospitalized.
He was there.
Even when Tony yelled, screamed and whispered that he hated him.
Steve took it all.
Steve never left.
Tony hated him even more.
Harry told him Steve was his one weakness. That Tony was the strongest person he'd ever seen but that he'd always have this enormous softness in his character where Steve was concerned.
For Tony it became a flaw.
A stain on his perfectly white world.
Harry had been so, so white.
Steve was disgusting, leaving his greasy fingerprints on the perfectly clean walls of Tony's soul.
He missed Harry's cleanness.
"Humans are fickle."
Tony watched the creature stalk back and forth in front of him, its strange pincers clicking in the damp underground where it had dragged him to. It looked like an insect and it wanted to use Tony to lure the Avengers to it.
"Humans are defective."
He didn't know how it happened. In one moment he was giving a conference speech on quantum physics in Hanoi, Vietnam, and in the next he woke up in a cave, cold and trying to stop the bleeding cut on his right forearm.
"Humans are flawed."
Tony didn't say anything.
But he agreed.
Steve hissed as he gently removed the blood soaked fabric bound around Tony's forearm. The wound underneath was deep and bleeding sluggishly.
Tony looked at it and caught a glimpse of white bone thought the open skin. He frowned and absently watched Steve's hands work on cleaning the wound and sewing it shut.
They were stranded somewhere in the Vietnam jungle, from what Tony could guess, as he'd been in the capital at the time of his capture, and they were running away from the insects that had apprehended him.
Apparently the cave where he'd been brought was the nest and he was supposed to be the bait to bring all of the Avengers to the Queen—the demented insect that had been rambling.
The cut apparently came from a sharp mandibular when an insect soldier had dragged him down into the nest.
It was disgusting.
"Here," Bruce said gently, "drink this."
Tony looked blankly at the cup the man was handing him and caught a whiff of hot water mixed with herbs. "It's tea-tree. Helps against infection," he explained.
Tony wordlessly took it and sipped the steaming brew without a word or a glance at the man. He saw Bruce's intense gaze fixed on the heavy scars he had on his wrists.
"You took it off," Steve whispered into the night.
The supposed superheroes hadn't planned Tony's rescue well. They were still stranded and had no way of reaching SHIELD or any kind of civilisation. Tony could hear Romanov mutter about stupid love fools and lack of preparation.
Apparently Steve hadn't been willing to wait for the Avengers to assemble before running after Tony.
Tony wasn't able to sleep in the damp forest. Insects buzzed everywhere around them and every few minutes rain would pour down on them without warning for about ten minutes. Then the heat returned to suffocate them.
He didn't look at Steve when he answered but clenched his left hand, thumb rubbing against his ring finger. "I took it off when I realized keeping it was hurting Harry more than that fucking cancer," he whispered. "And even then it was too late because he died in my arms an hour after I took it off," he sighed.
Five months after Harry's death and he felt numb. Where before was a sharp pain piercing his heart every time he thought about Harry, now was only a dull throb and a clench of his stomach. It still hurt, but he guessed time really did make grief pass.
Steve's sharp intake of breath didn't deter him. "I'm sorry," the soldier whispered.
"So am I," Tony intoned flatly.
"So, I heard you were doing pretty okay with the company," Clint tried jovially.
Tony raked a trembling hand through his hair, combing it back and winced when the move jolted his arm a bit too sharply. "Obviously," Tony muttered, one of his booted feet slipping into a puddle of mud. He frowned and looked down, gritting his teeth in annoyance.
He now understood why soldiers of the Vietnam War had gone completely crazy. How were people supposed to survive in this kind of hell? It was all heat, rain and insects. And the fucking humidity. His white shirt, caked with mud, blood and sweat was permanently stuck to his skin and his custom made fitting black pants hugged him like the worst skinny pants on the market.
Fucking jungle. He hated trees.
Bruce hissed in sympathy—not unlike Steve two days earlier—when he pulled away the makeshift bandages from Tony's arm. "Oh, Tony," he breathed out sadly.
Tony didn't say anything, just stared aloofly at the ragged, angry red inflated skin. As it seemed, Steve's careful stitches were now a gruesome sight; seeping with semi coagulated blood and pus. The heavy humidity made it impossible for Tony to heal and the wound had now become infected.
"Not so pretty, uhm," Tony muttered.
He ignored Bruce's glance at him and busied himself with leaning back against a massive tree root, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He could feel the fever draining his strength and will. He felt weak and dizzy, disgusting in his own skin and aching. He wanted out.
"It's infected," Bruce provided unnecessarily. "How do you feel?"
Tony closed his eyes and looked away, turning his head from Bruce inquiring face. "Sick," was his only answer before he leaned over and threw up what little water he'd been able to sip not an hour ago.
"So…I see you've opted for the silent treatment," Barton said from somewhere behind Tony.
Tony gnashed his teeth, more from the pain in his arm than from anything else, and simply levelled the man with a blank look.
Barton smiled uneasily and shrugged with faked nonchalance. "I get it, you know," he sighed, sitting in front of Tony on the trunk of a dead tree. "'s'what I did to you."
Tony stared some more before averting his gaze and gingerly shifted his legs under him. They were down for the night but Tony, despite his complete and utter exhaustion, couldn't seem to find sleep.
"Sooooo," Clint trailed off, "what's with the shaved face?" he asked out of the blue.
Tony glared at Clint tiredly, fever red face drenched with sweat and sunken eyes dark in the shadows of the canopies, even though the sun was still giving them a little light above the trees. "Harry likes it," he offered simply.
It shut Barton up and he didn't ask anything else.
No one listening to their conversation seemed willing to correct Tony's use of present tense.
Tony shivered and unconsciously buried himself in the strong arms wrapped around him.
"Harry?" he whispered in a lost voice.
A quiet, soothing noise was his only answer before he succumbed to unconsciousness.
"So, tell me about this new driver you have," Steve asked quietly, Tony's burning forehead scorching the skin on his neck where it was buried.
Tony jerked slightly in his arms and blinked sluggishly. "He's…my friend," he slurred after a full minute.
Steve tightened his arms around Tony's thin frame. "You've lost weight," he commented absently.
Tony hummed and scratched his fingers against the leather of Steve's uniform. "Harry cooks," he muttered. "Is he…gonna be mad at me for miss—ing dinner?" he asked in a wrecked voice.
Steve closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against the top of Tony's head. "No, baby. Harry's not gonna be mad."
"Hold him," Bruce barked at Steve and Thor. "Hold his legs!"
Tony struggled violently when the two men restrained him and screamed when Steve grabbed his arm, maintaining a firm grip on it with big hands. He moaned and pleaded, sobs spilling from him. "No, no, Harry! Please, help!"
Bruce's hands were trembling badly as he quickly but professionally sterilized the blade of the sharp bowie knife above the lighter Clint was holding. "I have to remove the dead tissue," he said out loud, more for his sake than for the others. He brought the knife to Tony's right forearm. "I'm sorry Tony," he whispered in a suppliant voice.
Steve actually moaned with Tony when the blade entered the skin and started to cut away the dead, rotting tissues. The wound was so infected and bloated the skin had started to rot and turn black in some places.
Steve tried to ignored Tony's desperate cries and calls for Harry, but soon found it too hard and shook his head. "Stop Bruce! Stop! You're hurting him!" he yelled above Tony's shrieks of pain. "Please!"
Bruce turned his drenched face, haggard and grey with horror and glared at Steve, his eyes glowing green. "I can't stop!" he snapped. "Tony's gonna die if I don't cut the infection away!"
Where Steve wanted to sob, he clenched his teeth and shook his head instead, never relinquishing the hold he had on Tony's shaking form. "It's okay," he murmured in Tony's ear. He was sitting on the ground, mud and blood and dirt sticking everywhere with Tony trapped between his legs and against his chest. His left arm was holding Tony firmly against him; his right hand was clamped around the injured limb while Thor was effortlessly pinning Tony's legs to the ground.
Steve's eyes were locked on Bruce as he was performing the brutal surgery, face worn and pale and sweaty, and he seemed to suffer nearly as much as Tony from doing it.
Clint was pacing around them, hands in his hair, nearly putting them over his ears when Tony's cries became too loud, and Romanov was sitting away from them, seemingly emotionless, but Steve could discern the guilt, anguish and sorrow in her eyes. He knew she was the one who had hurt Tony physically the most. It was nothing compared to what Steve had done, but he knew she felt remorse now.
He'd seen her crumble when she thought she was alone, when they all learnt from Fury that Harry was dead.
The man—as painful as it was for Steve to say—had saved Tony from death and had been the man Steve had stopped being for Tony.
Steve owned everything to Harold King.
Steve licked his lips and gently traced the tears still streaming down from behind Tony's closed eyelids. How he longed to see those bright, blue eyes, so much bluer than his own. Tony's eyes had always held his very soul and Steve craved to have those wonderful orbs looking at him with love and trust…like before.
He still couldn't understand what he'd done. He couldn't quite grasp the moment where everything had toppled over, where he'd taken the leap and done what had seemed like the best thing right then.
He just didn't get it.
Why? Why had he done it? Why had he destroyed the best thing happening to him in his life since…since even before being frozen?
How could he have done that to Tony? And with one of Tony's rare friends, the man who'd been Tony's anchor since MIT…who'd found him after Afghanistan.
Hell, Steve thought miserably, how could Rhodes have done that to Tony too?
Bruce grimaced when he peeled the bandage from Tony's arm, hand coming up to rub over his mouth. "Damn."
Tony turned to eye the wounded limb warily. "What're you gonna do now?" he slurred breathily, a dark laugh devoid of any humor following his words.
Bruce continued to stare at the arm and pinched his forehead before running his hand through his hair and tugging at it in self-punishment. "I—I don't—"
Tony hummed slightly and shifted on the floor, booted feet stretched out in front of him. "Y—You know what you…have to do," he said weakly, his voice cracking on every word.
Bruce ran his trembling hand down his face again and stopped on his mouth. He shook his head, eyes wide and bulging out in horror. "I—I can't—"
Tony snorted derisively. "Infection's…gone too far. You—you have to…to do it."
Steve came back from his watch and knelt down next to them. He froze when he saw Bruce's ashen face and Tony's sickly grey complexion, now grim and resigned. "What is it?" he asked softly, tracing the back of his fingers along Tony's still smooth cheeks. Two days captivity and two more days wandering the jungle had only made a shadow appear on his cleanly shaven face. "Tony, what's going on?" Steve asked again, more urgently, panic starting to grow in his chest. "Bruce?"
Bruce swallowed, looking like he was going to be sick. He exhaled shakily, a sob lodged in his throat. "I can't do anything about the infection, I can't control it!" His voice wobbled, barely controlled. "I—I can't…can't save, Christ!" he yelled suddenly and stumbled back, away from Tony as he hulked out unexpectedly.
The Hulk towered over them, green face contorted in fury, snarling down at the heroes, teeth displayed. Steve took an instinctive step in front of Tony, shield at the ready, his other hand on the gun he had at his hip. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Thor, Natasha and Clint readying themselves to attack or defend at any given moment.
"And what are you gonna do now?" Tony's voice, weak and breaking around the edges snapped from behind Steve. Steve swirled around, brows furrowing before he realized that Tony wasn't talking to him. "Are you gonna let me die? You gonna snarl and tear us and this jungle apart just because you can't handle it?" he growled. And even in his weakened and exhausted state, Tony was still the same powerful and charismatic man he'd always been. "Are you going to let me die?" he repeated cuttingly, voice dripping with pure disgust.
The Hulk's face crumbled.
The Hulk disappeared.
Bruce fell to his knees, sobbing and clutching his head.
Tony was staring up at the dark sky barely visible through the dense canopy. The small glimpses he was able to catch of the stars were beautiful, but so, so wrong.
It wasn't his sky.
Not the sky he'd gotten used to stare at with Steve…and later Harry.
He was dimly aware of Steve's apologies, his pleas for forgiveness, for pardon and then Steve's hand was pressing down over his nose and mouth without mercy.
No way to breathe, Tony quickly succumbed to the darkness.
Waking up in a hospital was familiar.
Waking up with only one arm wasn't.
"Sir?" JARVIS's careful voice echoed through the brightly lit workshop. "Sir, Mr. Rogers is asking to see you."
Tony didn't answer, too intent on his work.
A month later, papers published the first pictures of Tony Stark after his 'tragic experience in Vietnam'.
He had two arms.
"Mr. Stark, how do you feel about people calling your new technology as a step towards dehumanization? Coming from some of the most fervent detractors it is even called unnatural…against God's will."
Tony stared at the journalist and slowly raised his right arm, showcasing a perfectly healthy, normal looking hand. "Where was God when I had my arm cut off?" he wondered mirthlessly.
"It's…" Bruce stopped himself and exhaled loudly. "How the hell did he do that?" he asked in a voice dripping with wonder and admiration.
The other Avengers shook their heads as they all stared at the TV screen.
Sitting at the kitchen table, not taking part in the discussion between his teammates, Steve smiled. He could barely breathe, so overwhelmed by the pride he felt for the man he loved more than anything else.
"Is it…pig skin or something like that?" Natasha asked, face blank as a clean sheet of paper, but in her voice was a note of uneasiness.
Tony didn't remove his gaze from Harry's name etched on the tombstone. "It's synthetic," he answered, gently pulling out some weeds that had grown around the memorial.
Natasha nodded in understanding, knowing perfectly well that Tony couldn't see the motion. "I—came to tell you we're all happy that you're okay," she said, the slightly embarrassed intonation barely there, but Tony caught it anyway.
Tony hummed noncommittally and gently trailed the fingers on his right hand over the engraved letters on the stone.
"Does it hurt?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.
Something dark flickered over Tony's face, before going back to the detached expression he usually wore nowadays. It had not escaped anyone's notice; be it the media or former teammates, everyone was aware of the lack of emotions and the smiles that never reached the eyes of the Iron Man.
Not the hero, not the suit. Just the man.
"Of course it hurts," he answered, head tilting on the side, eyes still riveted on the grave.
Natasha nodded.
She didn't know if they were talking about the arm or the man lying dead under their feet.
"Tony, open the door!" Steve yelled. "Tony, open the god dammed door!"
Tony rocked back and forth, holding his unbearably aching, artificial arm protectively against his chest. Every time Steve's fist slammed against the door, Tony flinched, jolting his pained limb and increasing the hurt tenfold.
"Tony…Tony, please," Steve pleaded.
He sounded defeated, unlike anything Tony had ever heard before.
"Please…I don't—Tony I'm not gonna make it." Steve gave a small, dreary laugh. "I thought…I thought I could. That I could handle not having you because—because it was my punishment, my atonement for doing…that to you."
Tony blinked through his tears, beads of sweat forming at his hairline to drip down his forehead. His white t-shirt was drenched, his skin slick with cold-sweat, body wracking with shivers and teeth chattering from the fever raging in his veins.
"Please, baby, open the door," Steve pleaded, letting himself slide down to slump on the floor. "Roman called me, he said you were sick. God, Tony."
Tony gritted his teeth against the pain as he managed to drag himself to the door, reaching up and unlocking it with a shaking hand. Crawling back into the corner between the far wall and the toilet, Tony stared at Steve when he came in through wet eyelashes.
Steve looked like he wanted to take Tony in his arms, but refrained with obvious effort. He slowly took a step towards Tony, not wanting to frighten him with sudden movements. "Where do you keep the painkillers?" he asked gently, eyes sweeping over the bathroom before he opened the cabinet above the sink.
"I don't have any," Tony rasped, shaking his head. A second later he lunged for the toilet, just in time to throw up the meagre contents in his stomach. He'd been unable to eat for several days, and as he'd only gotten some water in him, he only had that and some bile coming up, burning his throat.
Steve grabbed him around the waist when he slumped in exhaustion and ran a hand over Tony's burning forehead. "Christ," he muttered. "The doctors had to give you something?"
He was angry, so, so angry, but not at Tony. Never at him, but at the doctors who'd fixed the prosthetic on the precious man in Steve's arms.
Tony grunted and gave an agonized groan from deep in his chest, good hand catching Steve's shirt in a weak grip. "I don't want any," he croaked, voice rough from screaming and vomiting.
"What?" Steve breathed out.
"I don't want anything that could get me addicted!" Tony growled, anger making him—for the moment at least—forget his pain.
Steve froze in sudden realization. Because of course. Tony had a past with addiction, and while alcohol had been a given, his drug abuse and many failed trips to rehab had been less commonly known. Tony had confided in Steve, in what felt like thousands of years ago, back when they'd been happily married, when Tony had been his, when Tony loved Steve without hating him.
In present day, Tony was thirty seven and sober. But his drug problems had ended in his mid-twenties; taking anything remotely addictive today could end up in disaster.
Steve had never really thought about it, but every time Tony had been hurt in the past, he'd only been treated with opiate free antalgics. Steve had on more than one occasion begged Tony to take something stronger, to make it easier for himself, but Tony had always refused, saying it made his head fuzzy and kept him from thinking clearly.
"It's not a broken arm this time, Tony," Steve reproached through his teeth, his hold on Tony remaining strong. "It's been cut off, the prosthesis is connected to your nerves, it's—"
"I know that!" Tony snarled, pushing weakly at the arm around his chest that kept him anchored against Steve. "I know!"
He dragged himself away from Steve when the bigger man relented, managing to get on his feet through bouts of pain and nausea. He staggered out into the adjourning bedroom, using the walls as a mean to keep upright. "I can't," Tony slurred, "I can't." He stumbled but refused the hand on his back offered as support, shying away from Steve's touch as he let himself fall on the bed, whimpering when it jarred the hurting limb. Tony kicked off his shoes clumsily; none of his former grace present as he wriggled out of his pants and curled up on his side, his aching arm tenderly cradled against his chest by his good one.
Steve bit back on an aggravated sigh and walked to the bed, gingerly helping Tony out of his t-shirt, comforting Tony when fresh waves of pain shot through him. "Shh," Steve soothed, gently running a hand through Tony's hair, smoothing it back from his clammy forehead. "You're gonna be okay."
The shivers running up and down Tony's spine intensified, growing to full-body trembling, his skin rising in goose bumps despite the intense heat radiating from him. "I can't," he moaned, tormented and lost.
Steve got up and walked briskly to the bathroom, coming back with a damp cloth. He sat next to Tony and draped it over his forehead. "I know," he whispered, taking Tony's good hand in his. "I know."
The night was long. Tinged with nightmares, panic attacks, body fluids, tears and vomiting.
Steve tried to be strong. Tried to help Tony through his ordeal of pain and grief. Tried to assuage his bone crushing, soul tearing guilt.
He didn't know if he managed to do it.
Looking at Tony, body prone and pale sprawled over the bed, naked except for a pair of boxers and shivering even when in exhausted unconsciousness, Steve wondered.
He wondered if he would ever be able to get Tony back.
Competing with the dead was an impossible task.
Tony struggled feebly in Steve's arms where the soldier held him under the warm spray of the shower. He moaned in pain and clawed at what part of Steve's body he could reach, leaving shallow, bleeding scratches in his wake. The bigger man hissed when Tony's blunt nails caught his cheek and grabbed the flailing hand to firmly restrain Tony to his chest, mindful of the injured arm. "Calm down," Steve urged over Tony's delirious cries of pain. "Tony, it's me, it's Steve! You need to calm down. I know it hurts but you need to calm down now."
Tony didn't hear him; deaf and blind to anything but the water beating down on him and his struggle to get away. "Stop, please, please, stop!" Steve clenched his teeth as he felt Tony tensing again, another spasm causing him so much agony he had tightened his left hand around Steve's wrist; trying to bend in two against the soldier's arm.
Twenty minutes later, in the aftermath of the episode, Tony inhaled deeply. Trying to control his breathing, he drew another through his mouth and exhaled slowly through his nose. "I want to leave," he told Steve when he felt calmer.
Steve frowned and looked down at him, noting the drawn face and the deep bruises under Tony's eyes. He wasn't sure what Tony was talking about but he was lax against him, and the fever seemed to have lessened a great deal. He turned off the shower spray and bundled Tony in a towel, carefully carrying him into the bedroom and placing him on the bed.
"I want to leave," Tony repeated at length. He was staring at the bedside table with unseeing eyes, curled up on his side with his right arm resting against his chest.
"And where do you want to go?" Steve inquired gently, brushing Tony's hair out of his eyes.
Tony's whisper was broken. "Away. I just want—" He stopped for a moment to rub his cheek against the linen of the bed. "I just miss him so much," he almost sobbed. "I just want him back."
Steve closed his eyes and sat down on the floor, back against the side of the bed. He rubbed his face as he exhaled heavily. "You know you can't go…and he can't come back," Steve answered steadily without turning to face Tony, masking the pain stabbing his heart. He didn't know if he could, if he was strong enough. He wasn't…Harry enough. "He's…he's not there anymore."
Steve wasn't sure if Tony even heard him, as the other man spoke again, eyes filled with tears but unblinking. "Why did he leave me? Why did he have to leave me too?"
Steve shook his head. "I don't know," he whispered. "I just don't."
Harry was standing right next to Steve now.
The Abandoner and The Betrayer.
"I hate you," Tony whispered late into another night.
Steve had stopped counting the days. Had stopped counting the nights.
Only Tony counted now.
"I know," he answered flatly.
"I love you, Tony."
Tony snorted and scraped the fingers of his artificial arm against the bedclothes. "I love Harry."
Slumped against the headboard, Tony lazily flicked from one channel to another. Stopping on the news, he watched with a sense of detachment as the man on screen and his guests debated on the topic of the new revolutionary prosthetic technology Stark Industries had launched.
"No, no, no!" one of the guest interrupted the anchor-man, apparently some kind of theologian. "The question we should ask ourselves here is whether Tony Stark is trying to play God or not!" The other guests started to talk at the same time, almost screaming at each other as they all tried to voice their opinions.
Tony looked on, indifferent, as the presenter loudly cut them off and steered the conversation towards calmer ground. "Let's hear your opinions, but one at a time," he moderated.
"Don't listen to them," Steve said, suddenly appearing on the threshold to the bedroom.
Tony gave him a sideway glance, not moving his head as he shut the TV off. "Am I?" he asked after a long moment of silence.
Steve gave him a curious look. "Are you what?"
Briefly closing his eyes, Tony turned to face Steve. "Playing God?"
Steve came into the room, carefully placing the tray in his hands next to Tony on the bed. He took the two pills next to the plate with sandwiches and held them out for Tony to take, smiling reassuringly at Tony's wary expression. "It's aspirin."
Tony eyed the pills suspiciously but took them and swallowed them with the glass of water Steve handed him. "Am I?" he asked again.
Steve shook his head. "No. You've revolutionized what already exists. Prostheses have been used for a long time now. What's scaring them is that now, people can't tell whether they were there from the beginning or not." Steve gave Tony's artificial arm, draped over his belly, a pointed look.
Tony scowled down at said limb, the grimace directed at the angry scarring surrounding the Graft, about half-way up his right forearm. It was a project he'd worked on for over a decade, and now when he'd had to use it for himself, he felt divided about the result. He felt elated over having two working arms, but a not so little amount of disgust was mixed in there too. It was strange.
Having taken upon himself the role of the unwilling experimental subject, as soon as the board of Stark Industries had heard of the achievement of the Graft, they hadn't hesitated to commercialize the success, spreading the news worldwide. Five weeks ago Tony had had his arm cut off in a horrible Vietnamese jungle by a ragged Bowie knife; today he was earning billions—again—for the same reason.
His association with Omni Corp Med had permitted the miracle. It was like having their CEO's arm chopped off had been the only signal the board had needed.
Slimy moneygrubbers.
"The question a lot of people have asked you isn't about the process, but about the morality behind it. What do you have to say about that?"
Tony licked his lips and shifted slightly behind the table. The woman who'd asked him was watching him with curious eyes, she and the rest of the reporters waiting for his answer with baited breaths. The airy room where the press conference was held was so quiet, you could've heard a pin drop. It was miles away from the conferences from years ago, when Tony had commended everyone's attention with obnoxious, charming and snarky comments. The man sitting in the spotlight that day was impassive and controlled. Tony had realized he needed to do some damage control and hiding in his bedroom wasn't going to cut it. He could've chosen to send a spokesman from S.I, but it was too important.
He had to be the one to do it.
"What moral?" Tony asked seriously, "We've revolutionized what already exists. Prostheses have been used for a long time. What's scaring people is that now, they can't tell whether they were there from the beginning or not," he finished confidently.
Two hours later, in the back of the car Roman was driving, Tony received a text. [I could charge you for plagiarism. How about making it up to me with lunch? Tomorrow, 1:00 pm at Ginno's?]
Tony stared at the text for a long time, thumb hovering above the answering button. He swallowed thickly and swiped his thumb over the screen.
Looking at the familiar streets of New York passing by, Tony felt his heart constrict and with a flick from his finger the screen lit up again, thumb dancing over it as he typed his answer. [Alright.]
He turned off his phone and closed his eyes.
He didn't know what he was doing anymore.
Ginno's was a small, but great pizzeria. The owner, Ginno Salieri, was an old acquaintance of Tony's. He'd eaten there on more than one occasion with Pepper and Rhodey, even once with Howard and Obi.
The place held as much bitter memories as good ones.
He'd gone there with Steve on the day they'd returned from their honeymoon, and it had been glorious, hours full of laughter and joy.
Steve was already there. His face lit up with a smile and he waved at Tony as he walked up to the booth and slid down in the seat across from Steve; expensive leather shoes, crisp black suit and white shirt clashing with Steve's trainers, jeans and hoodie.
"Hey, Tony. How are you?" Steve smiled nervously, sneaking a furtive glance at Tony's right arm tucked in his pocket.
"I'm good," Tony answered slowly, avoiding Steve's gaze by eyeballing the menu, which he knew by heart. "You?" he asked politely.
Steve nodded and rubbed his mouth. "Yeah, I'm good."
They lapsed into silence and Steve followed Tony's lead and made himself busy with the menu too
"The others sends their greetings," Steve finally sighed after putting down the menu and drawing a shaky breath. "Thor specifically ordered me to pass along that: 'you are greatly missed'." He paused and bit his lip. "The Tower isn't the same without you," he added quietly.
Tony shrugged, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. He gave a small sigh and got ready to get up. "Look, I don't think it was a good idea for me to come here."
He froze when Steve placed a hand over his, stilling the nervous tapping. "Stay," he begged with a pleading look. "It's just—it's just pizza, alright? We don't have to talk about—about them, okay? Just—" He stopped himself and tried again, a frustrated look crossing his face. "Let's just have some pizza," he finished lamely, shoulders slumping.
Tony hesitated, not really sure even as he sat back down, his edgy drumming resuming. "Okay…" he agreed reluctantly.
Steve smiled wanly. "Thank you, Tony."
The smaller man shrugged again. They remained silent until Ginno came out from the kitchen, all smiles and hugs, kissing Tony on the cheeks. "Tonio!" he exclaimed. "It has been so long!"
Tony smiled softly and gave the man a one-armed hug. "Yeah I know, sorry about that, Ginno."
The older man shook his head sadly. "It's no good at all," he lamented. "Los Angeles is not the place for pizzas."
Tony chuckled and sank back in the seat.
"So, the usual?" Ginno asked, giving both of them a pointed look.
Tony paled slightly and shook his head. "Uhm, no. I'm not that hungry. I'll just take a small classic, please." There was no way he was taking the usual with Steve. They had used to share the biggest pizza on the menu and feed it to each other playfully, each bites accompanied with soft words or a loving caress.
Ginno nodded, his face neutral but his eyes sad. "And what will you have, Steve?"
Reeling from Tony's words, he shook himself. "Uh—I'll take the same as Tony." Ginno gave them a smile and Steve watched him as he went back to the kitchen, silently berating himself.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Of course Tony would feel uncomfortable coming here. Sharing a pizza like when they'd been together was out of the question. Tony could barely stand to be in the same room as Steve as it was; much less share a meal and get nostalgic about better, happier days.
They ate mostly in silence; each of Steve's attempt to start a conversation stumped by Tony's icy silence or his simple disinterest. Tony barely touched his pizza, Steve noting that his right arm was still stuck in his pocket and wasn't moving much. "Is—is your arm bothering you?" he asked carefully.
Tony glanced at him and pursed his lips. "It's been cut off, of course it bothers me," he snapped quietly. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pushed his plate away. "Look, Steve…this isn't going anywhere. I shouldn't have come and I don't know what you're expecting to get out of this but—"
"Why did you come?" Steve interrupted desperately.
This was probably his last chance.
Tony stilled, half-way out of the booth, wide eyes staring back at Steve over his shoulder. "I don't know," Tony said at last, as he turned away. "I don't know."
Steve closed his eyes, as if in pain. "Do I even have a chance?"
Tony's jaw clenched and he looked down at his left hand, idly playing with the hem of his sleeve. "I—" He shut his mouth and was out of the booth in a heartbeat, throwing a handful of bills on the table before striding out of the diner. He nodded politely as Ginno stuck his head out of the kitchen, watching him go.
Steve followed him.
He followed Tony and cornered him in the garden in front of Tony's mansion; the one he'd not seen the inside of for years until a couple of hours ago. The Tower held too many memories for Tony to be able to go back to.
"Tell me," Steve all but growled as he grabbed Tony by his shoulder to stop and turn him around to face him.
Tony was pale, his face drawn and exhausted. His eyes were dark and pleading but also full of hurt and confusion. "I don't know," he growled back at Steve, doing his best to mask the emotions trying to surface.
Steve opened his mouth to speak but Tony pushed him away with only one arm, hitting his chest angrily. "I told you I don't know!" he yelled. "I don't know if I'm strong enough!"
Steve blinked in bewilderment. "Strong enough for what?"
"To forgive!" Tony exclaimed frantically. "To forget! I don't know if I'm going be able to ignore what happened and go on! I don't know if I'll be able to not use what you did against you in an argument!"
Understanding dawned on Steve. "Tony, I'd never ask you—"
"I can't!" Tony yelled, his hand slicing through the air between them sharply. "Even if you say it's okay now, we'll end up tearing into each other so badly we'll hate each other even more."
Steve shook his head. "I can't hate you," he whispered, taking a step closer, as if he wanted to take Tony in his arms.
Tony flinched and backed away, shaking his head. "You won't stand to be with me if I remind you every day of the rest of our lives. You'll leave," he said blankly, face returning to its emotionless emptiness. "If—if I were to return to you," he whispered, "it'll be when I have finally managed to forgive you and accept what you did. Accept it's done and in the past. Accept it's over." He exhaled shakily. "If I forgive you, I have to forgive Rhodey. And that I can't," he finished in a downcast voice. He turned away, slowly walking in the direction of the steps leading up to the front door. He climbed them with Steve's gaze burning a hole in his back, stopping at the top. "Go back to the others, Steve," he murmured, knowing Steve would hear him despite the low quality of his voice, "Don't—don't wait for me."
Tony should've thought about it sooner, but in reality it never crossed his mind to change to codes allowing Rhodey entry to the Malibu mansion.
It was a nasty shock to find him sitting at the kitchen isle waiting for him when Tony got back from New York.
Tony paled as soon as he set his eyes on his formerly best friend, instinctively taking a step back. "Harry's dead, you can't take him away from me too," was the first thing coming out of his mouth.
Rhodey's face crumpled and his shoulders slumped. He looked haggard, thinner than before and dishevelled. "God Tony," he breathed out shakily. "I—I wouldn't—"
"—wouldn't what?" Tony interrupted, giving Rhodey a wide berth as he made his way to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. "Wouldn't take my husband?"
Rhodey blinked and paled even more. "You married Harry?"
Tony shrugged, wincing a little when it jostled his right arm. "He was going to ask me, I found a ring. But then he had cancer. And it was over," Tony said flatly. "Why are you here?"
Rhodey inhaled deeply. "I came to return your suit," he said.
Tony's eyebrows arched, but he didn't say anything.
"I—I left the military." Rhodey paused to lick his lips. "After…I couldn't really go on. I came to return the suit and I just…I heard about your arm and I'm—" He stopped abruptly, swallowing heavily and looked as close to tears as Tony had ever seen him. "I'm so sorry," Rhodey chocked at last.
Tony turned away, biting his lip viciously, right arm tightly shoved in his pocket. "A lot of people seem sorry nowadays…" he murmured, turning to face the windows on his left.
Rhodey got up from his seat and walked up to Tony, the both of them staring at the breath-taking ocean view in silence. "I'm leaving Tony," Rhodey spoke up eventually, eyes trained on the rolling expanse of waves far below. "I'm leaving and you'll never have to see me again. I just—wanted to tell you…don't—" Here he finally turned his head to look at Tony, eyes imploring. "Don't waste your life because of me."
Tony snorted derisively. "It's too late," he almost snapped, returning Rhodey's gaze with his own blazing one. "It's too fucking late," he hissed, knowing what the other man was talking about without needing to hear it out loud.
Rhodey shook his head. "No…you still love him."
Tony laughed cheerlessly. "I hate him."
Rhodey nodded. "But you love him more."
He left.
Tony never saw him again.
The Grafts were a success.
Tony didn't know how many letters of thanks he received.
That year he won his second Nobel Price.
In his speech he thanked Harold King for believing in him. Again.
Tony battled long and hard but in the end, his invention was affordable for everyone in the world.
Even the orphan children in Africa and the war refugees in Afghanistan.
Tony didn't see the Avengers for a whole year afterwards.
He deleted and blocked Steve's number and rewrote JARVIS's codes to allow no entrance to anyone who wasn't Tony.
It felt good.
But he felt lonely.
"Hello, Tony Stark."
Tony smiled lightly. "Hello, Bruce Wayne."
Bruce eyed him up and down. "You look sad."
Tony shrugged and accepted the hug the other billionaire gave him. "You look sad too."
Bruce nodded and gently tapped Tony's cheek. "Come, let's talk privately."
Tony allowed his friend to lead him into the private chambers of his mansion and sat in one of the armchairs facing a raging fire.
Bruce sat down facing him, offering him a mug of hot tea.
He talked.
In the end it came naturally.
Tony dreamt of Harry/Steve and he woke up with his right hand looking for the man lying next to him on the bed. The billions of tiny sensorial receptors sent the message to his brain that the sheets were cold and Tony frowned.
He didn't like the idea.
He visited Harry that morning.
He sat in front of his grave and after a while, he took out two rings from his pocket.
A silver ring with a small blue sapphire and another, plain silver with words engraved on the inside.
"I love you, Harry," he whispered, smiling serenely. He dug a small hole in the grass and buried the plain silver one. "I'll always love you and I would've married you." He kissed the gravestone and put the familiar ring with its sapphire back on his ring finger. Looking down at it, he smiled. "But I love him too," he simply said, standing up and taking a step back. "It might be some time before I come back…but I will."
He walked away but stopped halfway to the car, looking back at the grave. "I'll come back," he promised.
Harry had left him a letter.
And when Tony opened it, curled up in bed surrounded by Steve's warmth, he cried and told Steve all about what a great man Harold King had been.
It started like that:
Steve was holding Tony in his arms, his strong limbs wrapped lovingly and protectively around the smaller man. "Tell me, Tony," Steve whispered in his ear. "Tell me about the people in your life. Tell me about Harry."
And that same day, it ended like this:
Rhodey. Smiling.
Natasha. Scoffing.
Bruce. Chuckling.
Pepper. Beaming.
Thor. Laughing.
Clint. Grinning.
Happy. Laughing.
Fury. Smirking.
Coulson. Snorting.
Harry. Loving.
Steve. Loving.
The End.


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by Staff Writers
Karo, Indonesia (AFP) Feb 02, 2014
Indonesian officials searched through thick ash for bodies Sunday after Mount Sinabung volcano erupted, killing at least 15 people, with the only sign of life an ownerless mobile phone ringing inside an abandoned bag.
Dark, searing clouds engulfed victims during the eruption on Saturday, leaving rescuers with little hope of finding survivors as they searched through ash up to 30 centimetres (12 inches) thick.
Officials said about 170 people armed with chainsaws and oxygen apparatus spread out through the destruction in Sukameriah village, just 2.7 kilometres (1.7 miles) from Sinabung's crater, Sunday before the search was called off.
"There's no sign of human life. All the crops were gone. Many houses were damaged and those still standing were covered in thick white ash. It was hard to walk in ash which nearly reached my calves," Gito, who like many Indonesians goes by one name, told AFP.
"We didn't find bodies but we picked up a bag belonging to one of the victims. The cellphone was ringing," he added.
Sutopo Purwo Nugroho, the spokesman for the National Disaster Management Agency, was unable to put a figure to the number of people still missing, but said there was a "chance" that the death toll might rise.
Residents had been evacuated from the village, located in the "red zone" around the volcano where human activities are strictly banned.
"It's very dangerous and completely out of bounds. But many of the tourists still secretly went to the area to take photographs," disaster official Tri Budiarto said.
The search was halted Sunday afternoon, said Lieutenant Colonel Asep Sukarna, who led the operation.
"After two visits to the village, the volcanology agency recommended that we stop search for safety reasons. Visibility is low because of the thick smog and we could hear volcanic tremors," he told AFP.
They hoped to continue the search tomorrow, he said.
Sukarna was pessimistic about finding anyone alive.
"I doubt it would be possible for anyone to survive the heat clouds yesterday. So far, we have not found any more bodies," he said.
The volcano on the western island of Sumatra started erupting in September, but on Saturday spewed hot rocks and ash 2,000 metres (16,00 feet) into the air, blanketing the surrounding countryside with grey dust.
Fourteen people -- mainly local tourists, including four high school students on a sightseeing trip -- were killed by lethal heat clouds which cascaded down the volcano.
Amid the apocalyptic scenes were ash-covered bodies, their faces swollen and their tongues sticking out, an AFP reporter on the ground said Saturday.
A 24-year-old man who was accompanying his father to pay respects at the graves of their relatives died from his injuries early Sunday, raising the death toll to 15, Nugroho said.
Two other people are being treated for serious burns at a local hospital.
Officials are putting up more signs to warn people not to enter the area, officials said.
Mount Sinabung is one of 129 active volcanoes in Indonesia that straddle major tectonic fault lines, known as the Pacific Ring of Fire.
The country's most active volcano, Mount Merapi in central Java, killed more than 350 people in a series of eruptions in 2010.
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Thursday, March 13, 2008
Cistera Networks Hires McDowell as CFO
Cistera Networks Inc., a developer of enterprise application platforms for the IP communications industry, reported Wednesday that it has hired Richard P. McDowell as chief financial officer. The 50-year-old McDowell succeeds company co-founder Cynthia Garr, who was filling the CFO role on an interim basis. Cistera described McDowell as a financial and treasury operations veteran with more than a quarter-century of experience. Before joining Cistera, he was chief financial officer for Dallas-based technology startup Enlightened Age Entertainment Inc. He also served as senior vice president and treasurer of Blockbuster Inc. Cistera Networks is headquartered in Plano, Texas.


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Licence : All Rights Reserved


text:
Bangladesh fans stone West Indies team bus
DHAKA: Angry Bangladesh fans stoned the West Indies bus on Friday after the home team crashed to a humiliating nine-wicket defeat in the cricket World Cup.
Two windows of the bus were smashed as it was leaving the Sher-e-Bangla stadium after the match in what police claimed was a case of mistaken identity.
"The fans thought it was the Bangladeshi team bus and they hurled stones at it," Imtiaz Ahmed, deputy commissioner of police in Dhaka said.
"The window panes were shattered, but no one was injured."
West Indian star Chris Gayle, a former national captain, had tweeted from the vehicle during the attack, claiming the players had been terrified.
"This is ridiculous. Damn. World Cup with so much security and this happens. Big joke. Trust me I am not keen here. Every player lay flat," he wrote on his Twitter account.
He added: "This is some bullshit…..Bangladesh stoning our bus!!! Freaking glass Break!!! This is crap, can't believe..what next, bullets!!!!"
Bangladesh Cricket Board president Mustafa Kamal apologised to the West Indies for the incident.
"We are sorry it happened," Kamal said. "We have already ordered an investigation and the police are working on it.
"There was enough security for the buses, the fans may have thought it was the Bangladesh bus. The stones were thrown from a long distance.
"It is nothing serious. No serious damage was done, but still we are very sorry this happened."
Violence also broke out in the Dhaka University campus as angry students torched Bangladeshi team jerseys and placards after the home team's comprehensive defeat, a top police official said.
"A crowd of around 3,000 gathered inside the campus. They were very angry and shouted slogans against the players," Rezaul Karim, police chief of the university area said.
West Indies spokesman Philip Spooner, whose team were playing in Bangladesh for the first time since 2002, confirmed there were no injuries.
"We left the ground and on our way back to the hotel, a couple of stones did hit our window. Two windows were racked, but not shattered. Both teams are back at the hotel and are safe. Nobody is injured," he said.
"Our manager ( Richie Richardson) will notify the respective boards and the ICC (International Cricket Council). There is no panic, everybody is fine."
Bangladesh, one of the tournament's co-hosts along with India and Sri Lanka, had earlier slumped to a nine-wicket defeat to the West Indies in front of a 25,000 sell-out crowd.
They had been bowled out for their lowest ever one-day total of just 58 in 18.5 overs, with the West Indies cantering home in the 13th over of their innings with the match taking under two-and-a-half hours to complete.
Bangladesh had been expected to perform well in the event, especially in favourable home conditions. But two defeats in three games have dealt their hopes of making the quarter-finals a major blow.( Times of India )


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text:
Advocates welcome Royal Commission into child abuse
An advocacy group on the New South Wales far south coast says there's no better time for the Federal Government to launch a Royal Commission into child abuse.
The enquiry will examine abuse in church groups, schools, and state care providers; as well as responses by the police to such allegations.
The spokeswoman for the Eurobodalla Family Support Service, Mary Lowa, said the announcement is particularly poignant since the New South Wales Government decided to discontinue funding to sexual assault hotlines in the region.
She said they are vital services, and it would be disappointing to see them go.
"The State Government is saying that those services won't be funded after June next year," she said.
"The service in Moruya receives about 50 referrals and that doesn't sound like a lot, but each one of those fifty children or young adults are part of a family and one referral can become six or seven people."
Ms Lowa said the investigation is a big step forward.
"It will take an incredibly long time, it will unearth numerous people who have suffered for years and not been heard," she said.
"I think it will unleash feelings that people have been hiding for so long that the entire place will just erupt."
She said the enquiry will allow children to be protected into the future.
"I think it's amazingly brave and wonderful thing that the Federal Government is doing," she said.
"Finally, people will feel as though they are being heard and cared about."
Topics: child-abuse, law-crime-and-justice, bega-2550, batemans-bay-2536, moruya-2537, eden-2551, cooma-2630


text:
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text:
Dixie Caviar's 'Spotlight On' showcases both established and up-and-coming Southern artisans across a variety of creative fields. We'll be talking shop, the South, and their very best recipes. Read on! Today I'd like for y'all to meet Miss Emily Ann Quattlebaum Tatum of Tin Roof Cutting Boards. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting Emily Ann in person, but I've known her husband John for as long as I can remember! He is just the sweetest guy, and comes from a fantastic Alabama family.
Tin Roof's cutting boards are simply stunning. (I can safely say that Christmas gift giving is going to be easy this year.) Read on for more about this cute couple and their growing brand. I wish you two so much success!
Tell me about yourself: To many of my childhood and college friends, I'm known by my maiden name "Quattlebaum." Many nicknames derived from my unique German heritage, however, if I were to meet you today, you'd know me as Emily Ann Tatum.
Born and raised in small town Alabama, I quickly developed a love for Auburn University because of the big opportunities nestled in a quaint southern town. I graduated with a degree in public relations in 2008 and three weeks later married the love of my life, Auburn graduate and Opelika native-John Tatum. We now reside in Sugar Land, TX (a suburb of Houston) managing self-started businesses. On any given day, I'm doing, talking, or thinking about hanging at the beach, boating, running, or traveling.
Tell me about Tin Roof Cutting Boards: Tin Roof Cutting Board products are handmade with solid, reclaimed wood. Each cutting board is unique, individually crafted, and as eye catching as it is functional. Our cutting boards are not stained. They are only sealed, sanded and moisturized with mineral oil to enhance each board's natural colors. Tin Roof specializes in Pecan wood, but we also use a variety of hardwoods that include Walnut, Maple, Oak, Mesquite, Padauk, Purpleheart, Teak, and many more. Whether for daily preparation needs or full-scale gatherings, these reclaimed wood beauties are a cut above the rest!
Tell me how Tin Roof got started: What started out as the perfect Christmas gift for board creator and dear friend Kurt Pratka, quickly turned into a passion. With his resources, Kurt personally chose the wood, aligned it to create a beautiful design, sealed the board and sanded it to perfection. In a matter of weeks, Kurt was fulfilling orders throughout the town. It didn't take Kurt and the Tough County Sawmill team long to see the potential. With John's expertise in e-commerce sales and my background in marketing and public relations, we teamed up with Tough Country Sawmill to offer the products on a website and in stores all around the south.
Tell me the biggest challenge you have experienced thus far? The greatest success? My husband and I had a vision to create a work environment we could embrace for years to come. In October of 2011, we were faced with the opportunity to sell our house in Alabama, quit our "real jobs" and give our dream life a chance. We knew at the time it was now or never. We moved out of our house with no living arrangements made and unsure of our next step. After a couple of months of living out of our cars and staying with friends and family, we settled in Texas. Today, John runs an internet business he started two years ago and I manage Tin Roof Cutting Boards. We work side by side running websites, brainstorming ideas, researching products and people, and of course troubleshooting. It's always an adventure!
What is Southern about Tin Roof: The inspiration for the name Tin Roof comes from many long days John spent at the family farm in central Alabama. It represents a simpler time when all you needed was a comfortable pair of jeans, a dirt road, land to work and a cabin with a tin roof. For us, it's more than a place; it's a state of being. We find such joy in rediscovering the peace that comes by simply surrounding yourself with nature.
All of our products are personally designed and hand crafted in Texas by Tough Country Sawmill. Board creator, Kurt Pratka, learned and developed a passion for woodworking as a small child from watching his dad. Today, we offer those same treasured family items to people across the country.
Tell me who and/or what currently inspires you: As mentioned before, the brand Tin Roof was inspired by the Tatum Family Farm. On our website, you will see that each cutting board is named after a place or a memory that is near and dear to our hearts. I believe it is life's experiences that enlarge your vision and mold you into the person you were meant to be. It is exciting for me to incorporate these experiences and warm memories into the Tin Roof brand.
Tell me about your relationship with food and/or cooking: At the ripe age of 22 I married John. One of my biggest fears was that I didn't know how to cook, and honestly did not have a desire to learn. I've come a long way in the kitchen these past four years and can proudly say that I love to cook! About once a week, you'll find me cooking at night with John Mayor on the iPod and red wine in my glass. I keep it pretty simple, but I guess you need to walk before you run!
Tell me your best food story: This past Christmas, my family decided to spice things up a bit with a little cuisine competition. In an effort to help mom out with all the cooking responsibilities, we divided into teams and had a cook off. My dad and sister were assigned a meal, my brother and I were assigned a meal, and the spouses were the judges. We were judged on presentation and taste. After much deliberation, the winners were announced and presented with a special gift. We had some great meals, made fun memories and mom was able to relax a bit. It was a great idea and I am sure we will continue this new tradition for years to come.
Any favorite MADE IN THE SOUTH brands worthy of your shout out:
Jack Deloney is an artist from my hometown of Ozark, AL. Like Tin Roof, his work reflects the simpler days. Blue bell Ice Cream is a favorite in the Tatum family. We enjoy it best from the Railroad Creamery in Opelika, AL! TieTry is a great resource for our southern gentlemen. Viv-Vah-Chey Designs for personalized invitations and holiday cards.
I'm a magazine junkie, so I enjoy tearing out pages of products and recipes from Southern Living and thumbing through Garden and Gun each month!"
Please share your favorite Southern recipe and what it means to you: My husband John is one of four boys. His mother Lynn is a spectacular cook and knows how to satisfy her boys' appetites when we all come to visit. She shows her love through her cooking and treasures the time around her table when everyone slows down to enjoy a home cooked meal. Her version of green bean casserole is amazing. Once you try this, you'll never use the recipe on the back of the can again!
Source: Emily Ann Tatum Yields: Feeds a crowd
1 (10 3/4 ounce) can cream of mushroom soup 4 cups French-style green beans 1 cup sour cream 1 teaspoon garlic powder 1/8 teaspoon pepper Crushed crackers (amount and type not specified) 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese 1 cup fried onions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
In a mixing bowl, combine cream of mushroom soup, green beans, sour cream, garlic powder, and pepper. Pour into a 9" x 11" casserole dish.
In a separate bowl, combine crushed crackers, melted butter, and cheese. Sprinkle over the green bean mixture. Bake casserole, uncovered, for 25 minutes. Top with fried onions and bake for 5 more minutes.
Last of all, tell me what you love most about the South/being Southern:
I feel blessed to be a true Southerner! There are so many things I love about the South—home-cooked Sunday lunches, friendly faces, hand written letters, and sweet tea. Being from the South comes with an ingrained appreciation for authenticity, attention to detail in everything and greeting old friends and new faces with a smile. (Hear, hear!)
ATTENTION: Tin Roof is offering 25% off of their products for Dixie Caviar readers now through September 30th! Use Promo Code ""DIXIE25"" at check out.
Find out more about Tin Roof Cutting Boards here and follow them on Facebook and Twitter. For more of Emily Ann and John's adventures, check out her personal blog.


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Pisa Matt Mussel Kitchen Doors
Pisa Matt Mussel
- FREE Delivery over £250
- Dispatch by 14th August
- Available in Made to Measure and Standard Sizes
- Made in the UK
- Made with sustainable wood
- 6 year guarantee
Check out our DIY Video Guides for useful tips on how to measure and fit your new doors.
You can also get a quote over the phone, where our Customer Account Managers will be able to answer any questions you may have.
Pisa Kitchen doors in Matt Mussel
The Pisa door from the Bella style kitchen door range has a chamfered external edge to the left and right, with a deeper and more obvious chamfer to the top and bottom. This produces areas of light and shade, clearly revealing the space in between your cabinetry. This design element really works flawlessly with the simple fronts and drawers which offer you a selection of options in terms of colours and finishes. Contemporary or traditional - the choice is yours.
If you're hunting for a color selection that is a organic earth tone and which is guaranteed to work perfectly with other eco inspired earthy colours, this one is for you. Matt Mussel within the Bella colour range is neutral without being bland and if you require a peaceful and relaxing environment this colour choice will supply it. Mix with wood and some other organic colours.


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April 24, 2015, Fairfax, Va.—Americans for Limited Government President Rick Manning today issued the following statement urging the new Attorney General, Loretta Lynch, to investigate the Clinton Foundation's ties to the Russian company, Uranium One, which donated millions to the foundation, seemingly in exchange for a lucrative U.S. uranium contract:
"Loretta Lynch's first act as Attorney General should be to launch a full-scale investigation of the Clinton Foundation's ties to the Russian company, Uranium One. The appearance that Hillary Clinton sold approvals to foreign governments puts a stain on every foreign policy decision she made as Secretary of State. The national security team had to know about this, and went along with it, and the notion that President Obama knew nothing is simply unbelievable. Our national security is now for sale."
To view online: http://getliberty.org/new-attorney-general-should-investigate-clinton-uranium-one/
Americans for Limited Government is a non-partisan, nationwide network committed to advancing free market reforms, private property rights and core American liberties. For more information on ALG please visit our website at www.GetLiberty.org.


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ASTPP is a billing solution for Asterisk and FreeSWITCH. It supports pre-paid and post-paid billing with call rating and credit control. It also provides many other features such as calling cards, least cost routing (lcr), did management, resellers, callbacks, etc. ASTPP is able to integrate with OSCommerce to provide a Web store for your users to purchase calling cards and sign up for VoIP accounts.
AWbot is a bot that connects to your Web site and makes URL requests like human visitor. It's not a Web indexing robot, but a Web client tool that emulates visitors browsing your Web site to test its stability after a development change, its reliability, and its response to heavy loads.
AWFFull is a Web server log analysis program, forked from Webalizer. It adds a number of new features and improvements, such as GeoIP capability, internationalisation, style changes via CSS, extended front page history (more than 12 months), resizable graphs, and lots of backend changes and simplification. The long term goal is to focus on Web Analytics, not just Web Reporting.
AllWorldIT DBackup is a backup system which creates one archive per directory it backs up. This makes searching through the backup much easier, as you can look for which files you're after in the directory hierarchy. It will only back up directories which have changed, which makes it rsync friendly.
Advanced Web Statistics (AWStats) is a free powerful Web server logfile analyzer (Perl script) that shows you all your Web statistics including visits, unique visitors, pages, hits, rush hours, search engines, keywords used to find your site, robots, broken links, and more. It works with both IIS 5.0+ and Apache Web server log files as a CGI and/or from the command line. It also supports around 40 languages.
AXP stands for Arch eXtension Platform. It features a pluggable command set that extends the GNU Arch functionality. It includes high level operations on revision library, searching for the locations and content of world-wide arch repositories, advanced branching and merging commands, and more.
A backend for the Core Five file manager.
A simple DDNS client


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Mumbai: The Indian cricket team should take three spinners during their tour to Australia next month if they wanted to put up a decent show, according to former Indian Test star Bapu Nadkarni.
Speaking on the sidelines of a function at the Cricket Club of India (CCI) to announce the list of Indians to be feted for their performance at Lord's on October 19, Nadkarni said that "Three spinners -- leg spinner Anil Kumble, offie Harbhajan Singh and left arm spinner Murali Kartik-- are a must to Australia because the wickets over there have become slow". "The think-tank should change their mindset that the wickets in Australia are still fast and bouncy. That is not the case in most of the wickets abroad as the wickets every where have become slow and three spinners are a must during foreign tours to any parts of the world", he added.
"If the Indians decide to play three pacemen and just one or two spinners in any of the four Test matches they will be playing over there, then they will be asking for trouble as the Aussies are good against pace and a little bit suspect against spinners, particularly left arm spin", Nadkarni said. "If they take three spinners, it will add variety to their bowling and will have an edge over the rival batting line-up", he added.


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All three major indexes ended lower for the week in the wake of a weaker than expected March jobs report.. The Dow lost 0.09% this week, while the S&P 500 dropped up 1.01%. The Nasdaq ended the week down 1.95%.
Below are links to the top economics news for the week:
- BLS Jobs Report: Hiring slows in March
- Weak economic indicators bring down oil prices
- U.S. Rig Count is down 10 rigs from last week at 1,738
- Trade Deficit declined in February to $43 Billion
- Consumer Credit Jumps on Student, Auto Loans
- Initial jobless claims spike
- March Job Cuts Total 49,255
- AAR Reports Mixed Rail Traffic for March
- U.S. Consumer Outlook Index Hits 7-Month High
- ADP National Employment Report – March 2013
- March 2013 Non-Manufacturing ISM Report On Business
- Texas Economic Indicators
- U.S. Shopping-Center Rents Climb as Less Space Is Added
- Demand for U.S. office space improves – barely
- New Home Prices to Rise Strongly This Year
- Texas Employment Update
- Construction spending rose in February
- U.S. manufacturing growth slows in March


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Terrell Owens Reminds Us All How Annoying He Still Is In New GQ Interview
Terrell Owens is making his own playoff run.
Never mind that the wide receiver/former reality show star doesn't play in the NFL anymore...
Terrell Owens is making his own playoff run.
Never mind that the wide receiver/former reality show star doesn't play in the NFL anymore...
Evansville, Indiana has become the epicenter of one of the biggest mysteries in the country — a hole filled with porn.
We're sure the first time you turned on WWE wrestling, and saw two men in little tights and knee pads dancing around the ring like ballerinas, you thought to yourself, "What a bunch of idiots...
Listen up all you winter sports lovers! February 11 and 12 are the perfect excuse for you to fulfill both your need for cross-country skiing and getting out of the states. That's the time you need to be making your way up to Quebec, Canada for the Canadian Ski Marathon (CSM), the longest, and perhaps most grueling cross-country ski race on the planet.
Although doctors typically gauge a smoker's willingness to quit before offering help in doing so, new research indicates that help should be offered to all smokers.
Rising young star Amanda Seyfried has signed on to play Linda Lovelace in 'Lovelace,' one of two Hollywood stories about the famed porn star and her abusive relationship with husband and the porn industry at large.
If this woman looks like someone you know, trust us, she's not. In fact, no one knows her — yet she's been dubbed the world's "ultimate celebrity."
The NFL playoffs enter the divisional round this weekend. Just eight teams remain with a chance of playing in the Super Bowl in Indianapolis on February 5. Green Bay, San Francisco, New England and Baltimore will all host games after enjoying a bye during wild card weekend.
Here's a preview of this weekend's contests:
Animation, action, or comedy? Take your pick — there's one of each opening in wide-release this weekend.
Archer Matt Stutzman has an impressive record for an athlete. He's won several tournaments. He's set world records. He's even qualified to compete in the 2012 Olympic Games. And he's done it all using only his feet.
That's because Stutzman was born without hands or arms.


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Why do you like or dislike this movie?
Uploaded: 2015-11-23 Rating: % / Votes
Description: We never thought we'd see Chris taking a dick in his ass, but then we never thought we'd see him hungrily sucking on Brian's uncut cock either. The guy is looking a little more muscular these days.


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Slow Food Mother City aims to be a convivium which organises regular, affordable events, focusing on taste education, farm visits, relaxed meals, artisan food demonstrations and visits to small producers in the wider Cape Town area.
Archive | November, 2009
Why Join Slow Food Mother City?
November 11, 2009
Comments Off on Why Join Slow Food Mother City?
Terra Madre Day at Kwalapa
November 10, 2009
Good news! Early in 2010, Cape Town will have a new Slow Food group (or convivium, as the Italians like to call it): Slow Food Mother City. We will be offering regular events that celebrate good, clean and fair food. So if you're interested in farm visits, picnics, CSAs, artisan food demonstrations and tastings, as well as meeting like-minded Capetonians, read on.


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King Of The Hill: Season 3 (DVD)
Brand: Twentieth Century Fox
Product Code: 660705
Availability: In stock
With the Huxtables long gone, the Hills of Arlen, Texas, may just be television's most functional family. They are certainly one of the funniest as they struggle to appreciate "the little things in life while some big things are wrong and evil," as "sweet and trusting" Peggy learns in the classic episode "Peggy's Headache," in which Peggy is the last to discern that Dale's wife has had a decades-long affair with John Redcorn. Likewise, in "Death and Taxes," Peg is conned by an alleged former student, now a Death Row inmate, to unwittingly smuggle him cocaine. Hank, who is aptly described at one point as "a good husband with a good head on his shoulders," is the lone voice of reason in "Nine Pretty Darn Angry Men," in which he joins a focus group to rate a new "yuppified" model of his beloved lawnmower. At least he has come to terms with his son Bobby's desire to become a prop comic, and his wistfulness at the prospect of Bobby one day leaving home in "Hank's Cowboy Movie" is just one of many "sweet family moments" that elevate this series. The third season is a pivotal one for Bobby, whose coming-of-age misadventures include his devastating first adolescent crush on an older student in "And They Call It Bobby Love," a father-son hunting trip in "Good Hill Hunting," becoming Connie's boyfriend in "Love Hurts... And So Does Art," and marriage (don't ask) in "The Wedding of Bobby Hill."
*This product is recertified and packaging may be substandard.?ÿ


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Say Yes to the Dress
I am a bride on a budget
Season 14 Episode 4
Lauren has a $2,000 budget but is in love with a dress that will blow her budget to shreds! Shoshana is a struggling actress, paying for her own dress to complete her special day. Sara is way over budget and has to convince her father it's worth it.
- 22 min
- Premiered 03/11/2016


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Les FrancaisesFavorites [+]
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Running Time: 132 minutes
Released: 12/2015
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Is motherhood 'the only job which matters'?
As one royal watcher noted, Kate Middleton was always going to be expected to produce a child "quite soon after her wedding", it's part of her job.
But is having a baby, or babies the "the only job which matters" for women? That sure feels like the message as of now.
Last week when actress Kate Winslet received an OBE from the Queen, the monarch asked if she enjoyed her work, to which Winslet said yes but she preferred being a mum.
The Queen replied "that is the only job which matters".
Maybe for the Duchess, but what about the rest of us?
I was quite surprised to read the way popular radio host, Fifi Box, kind of downplayed the value of the rest of her life, pre-pregnancy, in her recent statement that she was expecting.
"Despite the happiness I have experienced with career and friendships, there has always been something missing… like many women in their thirties I was starting to wonder if it had come at a cost, and for me it was the greatest cost.
"Because despite loving my life nothing could replace what I truly wanted more than anything, to be a mother."
You can't blame Box or any other woman for putting motherhood up on a pedestal, for the last few years it has certainly been marketed as the ultimate aspirational achievement for young Western women.
As Antonia Kidman pops out her sixth child, and celebs such as Beyonce and Pink wax lyrical about motherhood being everything they need ("Your career goes up and down, but at the end of the day, if I didn't do another thing, I'm blessed," says Pink, and "It just gives you purpose and all of the things my self-esteem was associated with, it's all completely different," says B), motherhood is very much the thing to do. And to prioritise.
Even former wild child supermodel and former Mick Jagger paramour, Carla Bruni, last week said she doesn't need feminism, and prefers "family life, doing the same thing every day" to the movement's values of empowerment.
I reckon it's great to see motherhood acknowledged for the engrossing, glorious and meaningful job it is (particularly for those of us who can do it in safety and with support).
It's great that so many celebs are helping spread the word that motherhood is, in and of itself, a respectable job.
But, thinking about all the women doing development and aid work to improve the lives of millions, or dedicating themselves to disease or other scientific research that could also directly save and enhance quality of life, maybe it wouldn't hurt to just keep things in proportion.
Pink is right, motherhood is a blessing, and a job at which every mum I know pushes herself to excel. But the only job that matters? I'd love to know what you think.


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|Message view
|« Date » · « Thread »
|« Date » · « Thread »
|Felix Meschberger <fmesc...@gmail.com>
|JCR 1.0 API OSGi wrapper
|Tue, 11 Aug 2009 09:33:09 GMT
Hi all, Over in the Sling project we had a project/module/bundle, which re-exported the JCR 1.0 API because that library is not distributed as an OSGi bundle. With the advent of JCR 2.0 and the API library being an OSGi bundle said SLING bundle will of course not export the JCR API any more (and maybe shoudn't have in the first place). Thus, we need an OSGi bundling of the JCR 1.0 API library. We could do that in Sling, where we (Sling) need it. We could do it Apache Felix, which has a section of wrapper bundles. Or we could do it in Jackrabbit, which is the home to many things related to JCR and which would probably also be the first place to look at for such a wrapper. I have created JCR-2254 to set up such a project, which will be very simple and just consist of a single POM and required license files. As part of this I will create the necessary structure in jackrabbit/commons and cut a release candidate shortly. WDYT ? Regards Felix [1] https://issues.apache.org/jira/browse/JCR-2254
|View raw message


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Product ID: 163685
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4 ounce dropper bottle. Keeps clipper blades and bearings lubricated for maximum efficiency. Refined white mineral oil
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upper and lower parts of the blades.


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A Place To Call Home
The Conservatory has been "home" to countless young people. A home where you can be yourself without being judged. A home that provides trusted adult guidance and character-building. A home with "siblings" who share your ups and downs.
- A place where walls do not confine or redefine
- A safe haven for positive peer interaction and the chance to build lasting friendships
Memories from Alumni
Our alumni blend the inherent discipline of their studies and the personal character traits they have developed to embark on careers that include medicine, engineering, law, history, literature and education.We celebrates numerous alumni that have gone on to professional arts careers including national touring companies, Broadway, New York City Opera, international opera houses and arts organizations
Katie Medved graduated from Fordham University with a BA in theater performance and minor in environmental policy. In addition to acting, she sound designed and staged managed.
Most memorable Conservatory moment: Going into Linda's office those nights (every night) at 9 when classes were over and knowing I should get home to do the piles of homework I had, but instead staying until 10 my other Conservatory "siblings", teaching Linda hip lingo, or talking about Baroque music, with Linda's composer finger-puppets contributing all the while and Shantell, holding baby Madalin telling us to get out already. There is nothing I cherish more than that laughter.
Biggest crash and burn: My first ever jury (remember those?) when I had to sing "The Girl I Mean to Be." I'm pretty sure I had no idea what a jury was, so when I walked into the center room, gave my music to Linda, and turned around to sing to three scary people I did not know, I forgot how to breath, how to speak, and especially how to sing. She played maybe 3 measures before I burst into tears…
Best conservatory life lesson: Always thank people, anything is possible if you say it is, there is always a solution to a problem – you just have to get creative about it, big hairy mistakes are better than staying quiet, make sure to laugh at yourself and don't take yourself too seriously, and of course DDD.
Most poignant moment at Conservatory: My work with Birgitta, Julie, and Zoe on The Effect of Gamma-Rays on Man-in-the-Moon Marigolds. Also, the time I performed a piano piece for studio class and got through the whole thing without messing up once.
Song I hope to never sing again: "Wouldn't It Be Lovely" from My Fair Lady
Advice for CSC students: Clean the lounge and practice. Take advantage of every moment while you are there; such a family is hard to come by.
Advice for kids thinking about studying at CSC: Do it!
David Siegel graduated from the Manhattan School of Music. He returned to the Colorado Springs community as an El Pomar Fellow and is currently the executive director of the Bee Vradenburg Foundation. David enjoys playing violin with the critically-acclaimed gypsy jazz band "Mango fan Django" and country/bluegrass band "Grass It Up."
Most memorable moment: Playing a set with the CSC Jazz Combo and Earl Klugh at one of his concerts.
Biggest Crash and Burn: "Thief!"
Best Conservatory Life Lesson: Why yes, I could be at that gig in in 8 minutes. DDD. Oriental themed Christmas carols? Sounds like fun. Glad I always carry performance black…
Most poignant moment: Packing up the last load at 1430 N Hancock. Made me realize what an incredible a home The Conservatory has been for me.
Song I sang at CSC that I hope never to sing again!: JRB Christmas Lullaby…don't kill me Linda. It's just always a let down after Menotti.
Advice for CSC students: 'Yes' is your friend, 'no' is not.
Advice for kids thinking about studying at the conservatory: It's true, Linda very well might be a blood thirsty alien but it's ok, be she doesn't bite most of the time. No but seriously, do it. It will prepare you for life in (or out of) the performing arts in ways that you can't find anywhere else.
Tripp Fountain grew up in Monument, Colorado. He studied drama at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts. He made his Broadway debut in Hair at the St. James Theatre and performed on the national tours of Evita, Cats, and Hair. Tripp often returns to direct Conservatory productions including Oklahoma!.
Most memorable moment: Second Sundays!!! Especially "Bohemian Rhapsody" interpretive dance with Lindzey Martucci, singing "I Can Go The Distance" for Mother's Day, and the Nisá Show!
Biggest Crash and Burn: Singing "King Of The World" in the park in Manitou… Yeah, I didn't sing that one for a loooooong time after that…
Best Conservatory Life Lesson: DDD.
Most poignant moment: Every year of people leaving for college. (Getting to see them when they came back to visit helped.)
Song I sang at CSC that I hope never to sing again!: "Where Is Love?" – Last sung at a Second Sunday circa 2000.
Advice for CSC students: Acknowledge that you have a million things to do, and acknowledge that they all have to get done. Then do them all as well as you can.
Advice for kids thinking about studying at The Conservatory: Consider if you want the arts to be a part of your life. If so, go to CSC.
Academic and Personal Achievement
- Records show that youth engaged in the CSC curriculum and environment
- Attain and maintain higher GPA's
- Become role models and leaders in everyday social situations
- 100% of the students who participate in our CORE after school program attend colleges, universities and conservatories of their choice; most with significant scholarships.
A Few of Our Accomplished Alumni
Ian Ferguson
Graduated CSC in 2001
Attended CSC from 1998-2001
Lead Music Mentor at the Conservatory, and adjunct faculty member at the University of Denver's Lamont School of Music. Performs regionally as a jazz pianist, vocalist and trumpet player and has released 4 CDS.
Josh Franklin
Graduated CSC in 1999
Attended CSC for 4 years
Starred on Broadway in the Tony Award winning Anything Goes, Jersey Boys, Ghost, Grease and Legally Blonde. Singer-songwriter with his 2nd album currently in production.
Nisa Ari
Graduated CSC in 2004
Attended CSC for 9 years
Getting her PhD at MIT in Art History. Formerly, Associate Director at The Elizabeth Foundation For the Arts in NYC
Jacob Eichengreen
Graduated CSC in 2009
Attended CSC for 6 years
Fulbright Scholar in Uganda researching & piloting an alternate micro finance bank
David Siegel
Executive Director of the Bee Vradenburg Foundation in Colorado Springs. Accomplished in all genres of violin. Currently plays with the critically-acclaimed gypsy jazz band "Mango fan Django" and country/bluegrass band "Grass It Up."
Tripp Fountain
Graduated CSC in 2004
Attended CSC for 6 years
Made his Broadway debut in the revival of Hair. National tours with Evita, Cats, and Hair. Currently resides in New York and is working regionally.
Kristen Leich
Attended CSC for 4 years and was also a mentor at CSC
International mezzo soprano
Currently works for for Citi Opera in Melbourne singing the role of Cenerentola in La Cenerentola. Will be touring with Opera Australia in their new production of The Marriage of Figaro. Major accomplishments include an International solo career and making my New York City Opera debut under the direction of the late Julius Rudel in Cosí fan Tutte.
Drew Fountain
Company member of River North Dance Chicago. Toured internationally with New York's MOMIX Dan Theatre.
Mim Ari
Graduated CSC in 2001
Attended CSC for 6 years
Physician for Denver Health doing primary care internal medicine for an underserved population.
Kimberly Anne Stattman
CSC alumni 2015 now attending New England Conservatory as a composition major.
Kristen Bray
Graduated 1998 attended Oberlin Conservatory and Vocal Academy in Philadelphia. Currently performing opera internationally.
Matt MacMahan
Graduated 2002 attended Oklahoma City University for Musical Theater. Appears consistently on Broadway
Stephen Ochsner
Graduated 2003 attended Oklahoma City University for Theater. Currently employed full time in Russia as an actor.
Zoe Dostal
Graduated 2003 attended Vassar. Currently curating various museum projects in Europe.
Rebecca Siegel
Graduated 2004 attended Stanford. Currently working with the Democratic Party.
Devin Malloy
Graduated 2004 attended UNC Greeley. Currently pursuing a Masters in percussion in Spain.
Ian Ferguson, Ben Bubeck, Mark Autry, Christina Wells, David Musante, Adelia Adam – CSC alumni currently employed at Colorado Springs Conservatory.