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writings-of-dumpy · 4 years ago

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Night Crawling: Punk!George Weasley x Reader Smut

Summary: Based on the song Night Crawling by Miley Cyrus and BILLY FUCKING IDOL.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit.

The lights in the club were daunting to anyone who hadn’t seen them before and a disco ball hung above the lasers and fog. The dance floor was heating up as the night wore on. Fred and George frequented this club and enjoyed their wiles with the mix of witches and wizards. The twins prowled the dance floor and enjoyed the attention from the girls that they got, but they’d never take their flirting too far. They mostly did this to relive the stress of their days and to get out the extra creative energy out of themselves. Not that their clients were particularly testy, but they had become a rather popular tattoo shop in Diagon Alley so busy schedules and time crunches sometimes made their jobs as artists not as fun. George loved being a tattoo artist, though, and wouldn’t change it for anything. Fred felt the same.

The thumping of the club’s music egged George on as he danced like an animal with strangers. He loved the attention his body got from various girls, which he figured was partly why he loved his tattoos and piercings so much. Not very many wizards had recreational body art, but it was becoming more acceptable in their world. Fred and George had started their business idea after venturing through London in their first year and seeing all of the colorful and unique patterns on Muggles' arms. The pair were fascinated and as soon as they were old enough, they both started getting tattoos. George had found that pierced ears were fashionable, too, so he now often sported various jewels and hoops in his earlobes.

His movements were interrupted by the need to use the bathroom. The club had a small and dingy bathroom that was relatively soundproof. Although he had no proof of that, he was sure that nobody would be able to hear anything in the bathroom anyway. He relieved himself and as he turned around to wash up, he accidentally scraped his arm against the bathroom wall.

“Fuck,” he hissed and looked at his arm that was now bleeding. He washed his hands and looked for something to sop the blood up with, but suddenly the door clicked open.

“Oh shit, sorry, I didn’t—are you okay?” a girl in a crop top and mini skirt said to George gesturing to his bloodied forearm.

“Cut meself on the wall there, careful, love,” George said in a charming voice. He looked her up and down and felt his eyes grow hungry. Normally he wouldn't do more than flirt with the pretty girls in the club, but he had never seen her before and the beating in his chest told him he might break that rule.

“Oh no, let me help,” she said and entered the bathroom letting the door close behind her.

George let her sop up the blood with a few paper towels from the dispenser and he let his eyes wander over her body. He felt himself licking his lips as he watched her.

“What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asked. The more time he spent with her, the more he seemed to realize that she wasn't the usual girl to walk into a club like this one.

“My friend is getting married next week, we're having a celebration,” she said with a smile. George felt a smile creep onto his face.

“Oh yeah? Congratulations to your friend then! Good of you to celebrate with them,” George said.

The girl smiled and shrugged. “This usually isn't my scene, but I'm glad you think I'm being nice.”

George admired her work and the two cracked a jokes about the dingy bathroom. Once she was done placing a bandage on him that she had pulled from her bag, he caught her chin with his thumb and fingers.

“Thank you...” he said. They made eye contact and George could see that she was blushing.

“It's no trouble at all,” she said to him and made no effort to move away.

“I have the urge to kiss you,” George thought aloud.

“By all means,” she said. He smirked and crashed his lips to hers. Their kiss was sloppy and full of tongue, George was impressed. He'd snogged plenty of girls before, but this kiss gave him meaning. He flicked his wand to lock the door and hoisted her up on the small counter that was attached to the sink. A small moan escaped her lips as George's tongue found its way to her neck.

“I cannot believe I'm making out with a stranger in a club,” she said just above a whisper. George smirked devilishly and kissed her neck more gently.

“What's your name, love?” he asked between kisses along her jaw.

“Y/N... Yours?” she said and gripped his black and loose-fitting shirt.

“George, darling,” he said.“Got a boyfriend?”

“Psh, no,” the girl scoffed.

“Good,” George said and made a dark mark on her neck. He felt connected to this girl. Underneath his exterior, he had always been a hopeless romantic, and this kind of interaction gave his club trips meaning, this was just what he needed.

Their lips found each other again and George pulled her impossibly close to him as they kissed fiercely. He didn't want to push her too hard or make her uncomfortable, so for the most part he let her take the lead. Moans escaped their lips and their kisses became more and more like a fight for dominance that George absolutely won. They found themselves out of breath with Y/N pinned against the wall and George's hands holding her wrists above her head. When their kiss slowed, George let go of her with a smirk and saw the bruises starting to form on her neck.

“That was nice,” she said with a small laugh.

“Next time I'll take it farther,” George said with a wink and slipped hr a piece of parchment with his number on it. He glanced at himself and saw several bite marks and purple bruises starting to form on his neck and he smirked, then walked back onto the dance floor. He was hot and bothered, but he didn't want to make a one-night stand of that girl. He wanted to see her again, but was worried he might not be able to control himself.

“What the bloody hell happened to you tonight, mate? You were gone for almost an hour!” Fred asked as they exited the club. “Oh my god, you shagged someone, didn't you! Look at your neck!”

George rolled his eyes. “Not quite, but damn was she hot.”

~*~

The next day, George distracted himself with his work and made sure each client went home happy with their new artwork. He wore the hickies from last night like a badge of honor and reveled in glances toward them. He looked at his schedule and his heart jumped when he saw that his last appointment was under the name Y/N.

As if on cue, Y/N walked through the door and they made eye contact. He smirked widely and strode over to her.

“Well, hello there, Y/N. What can I do for you?” he said with a smooth voice.

Y/N looked shocked, but pleased. “Well, I'd like a tattoo.”

“Perfect, you've come to the right place,” George said with a wink. He brought her over to his station and thanked the heavens that Fred decided to go into the office.

Y/N showed him a picture of some lettering and a heart, and he smiled at her.

“And where would you like it, love?” he asked her. His heart jumped when she pointed to her hip.

“I was thinking here? Do you think that would look good? I don't want it any place too obvious... not that daring yet,” Y/N said with a small laugh.

“That wasn't my impression of you,” George joked. She blushed a deep red and George called her over to his station in the back corner of the shop.

She sat in the chair and George smiled at her as he sat down and drew up the stencil.

“So... can I ask why you haven't given me a ring?” George said. “I won't be offended, I promise.”

“This may come as a shock to you, but I don't often get serious offers. I assumed you were drunk last night,” Y/N said with a hint of sarcasm.

George's face fell and he began to worry. “I wasn't drunk. Were you?”

“Not at all,” Y/N said.

George relaxed and smiled at her, then instructed her to pull her shorts down enough for him to place the stencil. She ended up unbuttoning the pair and pulling half of them down, which gave George a peek at her purple panties. His eyes, he was sure, went darker with lust and his pants tightened as he gently placed the stencil on her skin. He pressed it down gently and he saw goosebumps form around where his hands were.

“Go ahead and look in the mirror and see what you think,” he said and gestured to the mirror behind him on the wall. Y/N smiled and nodded, then walked past him and looked in the mirror. He couldn't help but let his eyes wander across her, and he snapped his head away as she looked up. He remembered the way she felt against him and smiled to himself as he got set up for her tattoo.

“Looks great!” Y/N said and turned to him with her thumb holding her panties and shorts down. George smiled and patted the bench for her to lie on once again and he put his gloves on.

“You ready, doll face?” he asked her. She nodded and he got to work.

“Oh. This isn't bad at all,” she remarked once he had made a few strokes. He laughed.

“Some people are more dramatic than others...” he said. He smiled at her and finished the tattoo in pretty short order what with it not being very big. She smiled widely at the finished product and thanked him.

“Alright, I'll wrap it,” he said and pulled out the cling wrap from his drawer. He ripped off a long piece and started smoothing it over her middle. He noticed her lick her lips and her chest started to move quicker. He smiled devilishly and dangerously slowly smoothed the wrap over her middle.

“George...” she whispered breathlessly. George smiled and ran his hand over her back and kissed her neck.

“Gotta listen when the Devil's calling, love,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh, yeah? And what's being said?” she said with her head tilted toward him.

“Fuck this girl,” he said in her ear and bit her lobe lightly. He gripped her hips, careful of her new ink, and pressed himself against her. He flicked the sign to closed and locked the door with his wand and turned her to him.

“Well I suppose we should do that, then,” Y/N said and no sooner did she finish speaking did George have her pinned to the opposite wall and kissed her with all the passion he could muster. She moaned and he ground his hips against her. His hands smoothed over her chest and then slipped under her shirt. He grabbed a fistfull of her breast and squeezed, eliciting a moan from her.

“Sometimes my thoughts are violent, dear,” he whispered into her ear.

“Sometimes I stab people in the back,” she responded with a suggestive look.

George made quick work of getting her naked and on the couch that sat in their waiting area. He attached his lips to her breasts and sucked and bit much like he did to her neck the night prior. His hands freed his throbbing dick from the confines of his pants and he hovered over her.

George grinned and slipped his hand over her chest and wrapped it around her throat. Her eyes went wide in delight and he smiled after confirming that this was a welcome move. In one quick motion he applied pressure to her neck and thrust into her. He was egged on further by the guttural noises that she emitted. The wet and warmth that surrounded him sent his body into a frenzy. He bucked into her and howled like a maniac in response to her moans.

“Fuck, baby doll, never knew I'd get such a good shag,” he moaned in her ear.

“George, don't stop,” she gasped out.

“Oh darling, I'm not stopping until we're done,” he assured her. His hand moved from her throat to her nipple. He pinched it hard and sent her to arch her back and nearly scream in pleasure.

“George!” she howled. George momentarily looked up to make sure he was out of view of the office and saw Fred with headphones on facing the other way.

“That's it, baby girl,” he moaned. He hoisted her up and pressed her against the wall and fucked into her with purpose. She WOULD come for him.

He could tell he was getting close but he refused to hold out on her. He pulled out of her and directed her to crawl on all fours and he pressed into her from behind. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. Her hands wandered over her body until she started circling her clit.

“Oh-ho-ho, baby that's it... come on dirty little girl,” George encouraged. He could feel his own climax approaching and suddenly, Y/N went rigid and cried out for him with breathless gasps. He laid her down on the couch once more and finished into the bin next to the couch with a deep moan and cry of her name.

“That was intense,” Y/N commented and reached for her clothes. George laughed and dressed himself next to her.

“I've never done that before,” he admitted.

“Me either... Now, how much for the tattoo?” she asked and pulled out her wallet.

“A date,” George said. “A real one.”

Y/N blushed. “Alright...”

#george weasley smut #george weasley x reader

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starry-knight-skies · 5 years ago

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Title: Nonstop Ambition Hamilton Au (collab story I’m working on with the wonderful and talented @fanatic-kay, who used those wonderful skills to write this chapter) also obsessed logan au but it’s more of a subplot Chapter summary: Roman arrives in America and makes some interesting friends

Roman took a breath, entering the bustling pub. His eyes scanned among the people, laughing and chatting in the low-light setting. He had heard through the grapevine that the man usually spent his Friday nights here. A smile graced his lips, spotting his target. Black hair? Check. Square glasses? Check. Sharp features? Check. Looks rich? Double-check.

He squared his shoulders, walking with a purpose towards him. Once close enough to be heard, he cleared his throat to capture the other’s attention. “Excuse me, would you happen to be Logan Burr?”

Logan let out a small hum of affirmation, his eyes flicking over Roman’s appearance. “May I help you...?” he trailed off, clearly searching for a name.

“Roman, Roman Hamilton, sir. I just moved to New York from the Caribbean,” he smiled as Logan shook his hand, sitting at the barstool next to him. “I’ve been studying at Princeton and I’ve been hearing your name a lot. You’re a bit of a legend. They say you graduated in two years.”

“That would be correct,” the alum nodded with a hint of a smile.

“That’s absolutely incredible! I would be honored to follow your footsteps, See, I want to join the revolution. My classmates think I’m insane, which- which I’m not! I was hoping you could impart some wisdom to me on how you managed to graduate so quickly,” The immigrant’s deep brown eyes shone with hope as he eagerly awaited an answer.

Logan’s expression fell, his whole demeanor becoming stoic. He didn’t spare Roman a glance, the pint in front of him appearing much more interesting. After a count of two, he answered. “It was my parents’ dying wish… upholding their legacy and the family name.” His knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the handle of his drink.

Roman’s gaze softened with empathy. “You’re an orphan.”

“I don’t see why that should change anything,” despite everything, his voice remained even and monotonous, but Roman took that as a sign of him hiding his true feelings.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t! That came out wrong, apologies. I’m an orphan, too. My mother passed away when I was twelve. People often mistake us as weak and helpless without parents, but damn, we’re so much more than that. I wish we could prove that to anyone, hell, if there was a war I’d be the first to sign up and show the world what I’m made of,” Roman claimed brazenly.

A light chuckle brought him out of his passionate reverie. “Can I buy you a drink? Perhaps offer some advice?”

“Please and thank you,” Roman nodded, watching the bartender pour his pint.

Logan took a meaningful drink of his beer. “Talk less. Smile more.”

“Excuse me?” Roman looked puzzled.

“It’s easier for some to speak their minds, have their words heard by the masses. Easy and foolish,” Logan gestured with his free hand as he spoke. “If one talks too much, enemies come flocking behind you. Confrontations are meaningless endeavors as well. You get farther in life, in power, when you sit quietly and smile.”

He sighed, trying to piece together what Logan was saying. “So, what? You just stay silent and agree with everyone?”

“Not agree, but you don’t disagree either. You’re simply being polite and not causing an upset. People like you, and it’s easier to build a solid, respectable reputation. Those who talk too much are often found dead not long after. And you’re no good to anyone if you’re not around.” With that, he finished his drink, handing the bartender some money. Logan started to get up to bid farewell to his newest acquaintance but was interrupted by two joyful shouts and an arm around his shoulder.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Logan Burr!” One smiled, his arm squeezing the other’s shoulders in a side hug. His French accent was hard to miss, but his English was decent. He was tall with broad shoulders, his long hair pulled back into a bun.

“How are you, sir?” The calmer of the two smiled kindly, though there was a hint of mischief behind her eyes as well.

Logan sighed. “I am fine, thank you. Though, I was just taking my leav-”

“Nonsense! Please, join us. You can’t leave when the fun has just arrived,” the girl insisted.

“Veronica is right!” The Frenchman added on. “And you can bring your friend, too!”

Roman smiled at that word, ‘friend’. It sparked a pleasant, warm feeling in his chest. He never had friends before, most of his childhood taken up with trying to make a living. Countless hours spent cursing his father for leaving them as he had to resort to pick-pocketing for necessities. At age twelve, when he was sure he was going to die by his mother’s side, he had no one else to depend on. With his cousin committing suicide a year later, Roman was sure he broke everything he touched. But still, he persevered. Now, he was living in New York, finishing his education and making a new beginning.

He felt himself being led to a table by the unnamed man along with Logan. He sat down, Logan on his right and the girl, Veronica, to his left. After a short discussion about getting drinks, Logan conceded in buying a round for the table. While he was gone, his friends gave their attention to Roman, introducing themselves.

“I’m Veronica Laurens, and this here is Remus de Lafayette,” Remus smiled as his girlfriend (?) greeted him. “You are?”

“Roman Hamilton. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

They fell into an easy conversation as if they had known each other their whole lives. Roman felt the click almost immediately. He learned Veronica and Remus were, in fact, *not* dating, though he found it hard to believe with how they both were fighting blushes at the question. The two were also revolutionaries, wanting to bring change to the world, free the colonies from King George’s reign. They had their own personal goals with how freeing America would change the world for the better.

“The monarchies need to, oh how you say,” Remus searched for the right words, “fuck on?”

Roman snorted and Veronica was unable to control her laughter. “It’s *off*, Remus. Fuck *off*.”

He waved off her suggestion, “You understand what I’m saying. Their only concern is how much land they own and how much power they have.”

“Royalty is a huge issue, but what about the slaves? They need to be freed as well, they’re people too! Just because they have a different skin tone doesn’t make them inferior to us.”

Roman hummed, “War is fast approaching, but once we’re free there needs to be order. We have no financial plans for the nation, and without those, there won’t be a nation to run.”

Veronica and Remus made various statements of agreement. Logan, however, seemed slightly agitated. “Lower your voices, you’re making yourselves targets. I agree with what you’re saying, but we could go about this conversation more tactfully, and quietly.”

“C’mon, Logan, everyone is talking about the revolution in one way or another nowadays. No one is going to pay us any mind,” Veronica assured him. “Everyone here is drunk anyway, they probably won’t even remember us being here.”

Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before giving in. Sensing his urge to move on from the topic, Roman decided to tie it all up.

“To the revolution?” Roman asked, raising his glass.

“To the revolution,” the other three chorused, also raising their pints and then taking a drink.

The conversation died down again, becoming more light-hearted. Laughs and quips were passed around. Roman sat back, letting himself observe for a few moments. He thinks he can get used to this whole ‘friends’ thing.

#hamilton au #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #veronica clarke #prinxiety #its the main ship so i'm tagging it #obsessed logan

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redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years ago

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Of Dust and Ashes (chapter 4)

Pairing: Eventual clint x ofc

chapter warnings: (yes, this again) death, gun violence, references to what happens to those who breath the dust.

And! We get to check in with Clint this chapter. See how hes doing. Because, aren’t you curious how he was holding up in the first few weeks? I was. Thank @winterisakiller for not killing me to stop me from killing characters. And thank @tnystrk-exe for encouraging me to kill characters.

Chapter 4: The road to a new life

~~~~~<3

Ten Days Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

Deanna carefully navigated the large RV down the road behind Lewis’. In time she knew it would get easier to drive the beast but right now, it felt like she was driving a tank that was at risk of tipping over at the slightest bump. As she drove, she had Frankie’s blanket draped over her shoulders and Aurora’s stuffed fox in her lap. Absently she would reach down and pet the worn fur along the fox’s back.

Lewis signaled that they would be turning left and she absently followed him. Eventually she was going to have to start thinking for herself, she was sure of that. But right now all she wanted to do was check out and let him take the lead.

The RVs rolled and rocked over the uneven pavement in the parking lot she had no memory of entering as they came to a stop. She was far more focused on keeping her breathing even and pushing every nonessential thought away. Each breath mattered more than what horrors her mind could bring her if she let it roam free.

Deanne reached down and grabbed the gallon jug of orange juice and took a long drink from it. The sky had cleared up and it was looking to be a nice day even if the haze seemed to hang on the horizon. It was peaceful and the engines were quite for their size, doing little to disturb the peace. She closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the warmth of the sun through the windshield and the taste of the juice, focused on that and that alone.

There was a thump as Lewis’ door slammed shut. He raised his hands high over his head and stretched, a groan slipping out of him as tension was pulled out of his torso. The sun was warm on him and he told himself that it was going to be a good day. Today was going to be a good day because he would make it so. There was no reason to dwell on the past when he was moving forward.

“Hey Dee, Come on. Let’s get inside and get on the road soon.” There was an almost sing-song quality to his voice that made her smile.

For just a moment she allowed herself to pretend peaceful it was just another summer day and that she was just another woman and it was until everything went sideways.

~~~~~<3

There was a sharp crack that filled the air, jarring her from her peaceful relaxation. It was loud and for a moment Deanna wondered what the hell it was Lewis was doing out there. The sound came again and again and yelling filled the air. Deanna was up out of her seat and had the door open in an instant. She leaned out and looked up toward where Lewis’ driver’s side door was open.

Lewis stumbled toward her, red blossoming on his too nice blue dress shirt. As he tripped over his feet, moving toward her, he reached and patted his abdomen and pulled his red stained hand back and looked dumbly at it. Another crack filled the air and he fell hard against the body of the RV.

A man ran forward as Deanna tried to process what was happening in front of her eyes and failed. Before she could look at the running man, Lewis grabbed her attention. He was waving his arm at her, motioning for her to do something. What she should have been doing was escaping her. All she could see was blood.

“Go!” His voice finally reached her ears as he yelled and waved for her to leave him.

“I can’t.” She was out two steps. “I can’t leave you.”

“Go.”

Another crack filled the air and while she could do nothing but watch, the side of Lewis’ neck ripped open. Red poured down the side of his neck in a waterfall and quickly soaked the left side of the blue shoulder and sleeve of his shirt only to quickly merge with the large red stains in the middle.

Lewis slipped down the side of his RV inch by painful inch. A shaking hand went to his neck in a helpless effort to slow the bleeding. What for, she couldn’t begin to guess. It was a lost cause.

If she called for an ambulance, would one make it in time? Would one even come at all? Perhaps it was simply reaction and survival instincts driving the action as he lowered himself to the ground one small shuffling step at a time, leaving a smeared trail of bright red that seemed almost cartoonish above his head. She always expected blood smears to be a darker shade of red than what was on the side of the RV.

The man ran closer and her throat froze when she tired to call out to him for help Lewis. Clutched in the man’s hand was a heavy looking handgun. With a start, she realized it was again Mr. Taft doing everything that a teacher shouldn’t do. He didn’t even stop to check Lewis’ condition.

Another man was in the doorway of the sports store and Deanna didn’t wait to see if it was another teacher. Swallowing the bile that threatened to spill from her throat, she backed into the cab of the RV and slammed the door shut. The doors clicked locked automatically as she threw it into gear. Everything violently rocked as she took off less than gently.

Mr. Taft leaned out of what had been Lewis’ RV and yelled. The words were lost to her over the roar of the blood rushing in her ears. Distantly, or so it seemed at least, the crack of gunfire reached her ears but she paid it no mind. The only thing that mattered was getting away. She had to get away from this insanity. Far away.

She drove and drove, not stopping until the city fell away around her and gave way to large open tracks of land. When the road was empty and not a building was within sight, she finally pulled herself to a jerky halt. In the cabinets and storage spaces, things rattled and clanked into eachother.

For a moment she simply sat with her hands gripping the wheel, knuckles white with the effort. Then everything became too much and she pushed the door open with more force than required and all but fell out of the cab as the system pinged repeatedly, reminding her that the engine was still running while she emptied her guts with one painful heave after another. She retched as the bile mixed with the citric taste of the orange juice covered her tongue.

When her stomach was empty she stumbled back, sitting down hard on the step of the cab with her head hung limply. Reaching up with trembling hands she warped them around the back of her head, curling in on herself more as the reality of what had happened only a few short hours ago dawned on her.

She had watched one of her children’s teachers kill a man- he was hardly more than a boy really. She watched him die. If she closed her eyes she could still see how the blood poured out of him and they didn’t even seem to care.

The interstate should be busy at this hour yet not cars drove by. The silence was eerie as she sat there, tears drying now on her face.

This was the world she would live in now. This was the world after the decimation. As she sat, Deanna wondered if had she not put her children on the bus that morning, could she protect them in this new world? She wasn’t even sure she could protect herself, she had no weapons. Deanna wondered if it wasn’t a painful blessing that her two children

Running her hands through her hair, Deanna looked up at the hazy blue sky. The sun was warm on her face as she pulled herself together. Silently, she said a prayer for Lewis and all those like him who were spared turning to dust only to die violently. She said a prayer for her children who suffered the same type of fate.

On shaking lags, she pushed herself to stand and slowly made her way into the cab. After a glance up and down the road, she decided she was safe enough for now and killed the ignition With the beeping silenced, she pulled the door closed. Moving into the back, she carefully walked down the narrow path into the bathroom and brushed her teeth.

When she sat back down in the driver’s seat, she had half a mind to throw out the jug of Orange juice. The thought of it alone was enough to make her stomach roll. Yet she had no choice but drink it- there was no room to stash it in the refrigerator and she simply refused to waste a valuable resource.

~~~~~<3

Just Over Two Weeks Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

In the time that followed, Deanna slowly made her way farther East. Before long, she had guns stashed in the front and back of the RV and made strides toward perfecting the art of parking the RV far enough off the road to be unseen. It was always better to go unseen, the world had become a dangerous place.

On the radio she would sometimes catch news broadcasts reporting a country fractured. King Manson was seizing control of the coastal area in the west, leaving bloodshed in his path. There were others like him in the south but he was the largest it seemed. Faceless, nameless bands of thieves roamed the highways, each trying to do just as Mason was- take control of some land and secure some security for themselves at the cost of others.

She wished she could say that she’d never fired any of her guns at another human being in the last week but that wasn’t the case, each shot intended only to scare those who intended to do her harm back. As the days marched on, she had done what she had to do to survive, drawing on the plans Lewis had spoke of. She had picked up a trailer shortly after she crossed the Nevada state line.

~~~~~<3

In Saint George, Utah she found the town largely empty. On the buildings she found scriptures painted in messy brush strokes. On other buildings were messages left by the faithful who had left their homes behind. They had gone south and advising her to pick up a bible and to follow. The sight made the hair on her arms stand on end.

She wondered if these people were still alive and if this was the biblical rapture for a moment before pushing the thought away. She couldn’t say if she believed in God. Like many, her thoughts on that subject had become confused with the discovering of the reality of the Norse Gods Thor and Loki. There was many who found faith lacking, not knowing the exacts of who or what they had been praying to. Others found renewed faith in a God they could see, a God they knew was real. Faith in the Norse Gods had been growing in the years since Thor had become known.

She made it a habit to park on the outskirts of town. It was a lesson she had quickly learned to not draw attention to herself. A thirty plus foot RV running around all over town would draw every bit of attention. Though it looked deserted, she couldn’t ever know for sure. Most of what she found in these deserted towns was elderly and disabled people, simply waiting for death to take them while they try and survive as best they could.

She parked on a back road just far enough away from town to feel safe. Or at least as safe as she could ever feel near buildings. She wanted to be close enough to homes with parked cars that she could avoid spending the whole of her day walking. Locking up her home after slipping a gun onto her hip, she started out.

There was a chill in the early morning air, giving just a hint of how summer was beginning to fade in the higher elevations. She huddled deeper into her jacket as she quickly began to approach the first house she spotted with a parked truck and overgrown grass. Crouching down, she carefully made her way closer.

A truck was in the drive and there didn’t appear to be any new tracks. Still, she watched for signs of life. In the distance a deer grazed on the edge of the lawn but otherwise the world around her seemed dead. Still, she waited. The curtains in the window moved, or so she thought. It just as easily could have been her mind playing tricks on her. Deanna had begun to see demons in the shadows and darkened homes. Perhaps this was how madness started? If she’d ever get the chance to ask a Norse God, perhaps Loki could tell her. He was mad himself, after all.

The wind blew dust around her and rustled the trees. The air smelled fresh and she couldn’t help looking toward the sky. The haze had begun to fade from the sky as the dust had slowly began to settle. On the roof, painted in red was a bible verse she didn’t care to read. If there was an even a God, he had turned his back on her the day he allowed her children to burn before her eyes.

Peeking into the window, she watched for signs of life. Inside was a mess, trash spilled everywhere. There was a commotion of thumps and scratching as a large dog jumped into the window. A scream locked in her throat and though she tried to keep to on, it echoed through the empty land when it ripped forth.

The black and brown fur did nothing to hide the way the creature’s ribs, hips and spine all protruded from the body. Jumping on the window and looking out at her, she could see the tail wagging excitedly. The beast was indifferent to the heart attack he had given her.

It seemed safe enough to assume the house was empty and abandoned by the state of the excited dog. The door was unlocked and when it opened she had expected the dog to rush out and run off. Instead he simply danced around her, jumping excitedly and tail lashing back and forth in a blur. Though the creature was clearly half starved, he seemed to care more about greeting her than running off.

After he danced around her legs for a few hyperactive moments, he dashed inside and Deanna followed, though clearly not fast enough for him. The dog came prancing back toward her to dart around her legs some more, nearly tripping her.

“Hello?” Silence was all that answered her.

The dog showed her toward a pantry door in the kitchen. When she opened it the dog barreled inside and wasted no time ripping into a bag of dog kibble.

She left him to his meal and instead started opening cabinets and searching for supplies. While it was clear the house had gone untouched since the inhabitants had probably turned to dust, there was little in the way of food stores. Clearly, this family wasn’t one for cooking.

She found some dried pasta in the pantry and a few gallons of water. Both were tossed onto the counter behind her. Overall the shelves were fairly empty. There was an opened box of pancake mix and instant potatoes but when she peeked inside she found the dried up bodies of dead bugs inside. Figures. These people didn’t know to transfer that sort of thing to a nice air tight container so when the end of the world happened, the woman scavenging through their home would have pancake mix and instant potatoes to feed herself with for a few days.

Oddly enough, she found herself cursing these people who had left the world in a rain of dust almost two weeks ago, people she did not know. She cursed them under her breath as she gathered some candles and searched for keys to the truck parked outside. If they had bothered to keep their pantry stocked and boxes sealed she would have found more things useful for her.

“Huzzah!” The cheer brought the dog running to her side, wagging his tail as keys jingled in her hand.

Absently, she ran her hand along his too thin back as she moved back into the house, grabbing up what few boxes of pasta she found. The dog followed. She took them to the small back seat of the truck outside. The dog followed. She quickly grabbed the jugs of water, all three and went back outside, putting them inside the truck as well. The dog followed.

“Are you going to follow me everywhere?” The dog barked and she rolled her eyes. The dog danced around her once more before jumping into the passenger seat. “No, get out. I’m not taking you with.”

The dog barked.

“Out.” As if to drive her point home, she pointed to the ground next to her.

The dog barked.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Deanna came to the realization that she now had a dog. This was how people ended up cat owners but apparently it works for dogs in this new world. Turning, she went back into the house to rummage through the kitchen, looking for containers to put the dog’s food in.

It took some time but she was able to stumble upon a few larger containers. It would have to do for now until she could scavenge something something that would fit better. She scooped up the spilled food the best she could and tossed in the dog’s food and water dishes. The last thing she needed was one more thing to take care of while she waited a few weeks for the world to start righting itself. It would just be a few more weeks, wouldn’t it?

The power gird in this town had failed and so she wanted to get a move on quickly. She wouldn’t waste her time looking through freezers for supplies- everything would be spoiled. Meat turned quickly and flies would be buzzing about. Part of her mind wanted to remind her what else flies would be buzzing about in some of the homes but she pushed it away. Thoughts like that did no good.

While from what she had seen the small city looked to be abandoned, she knew better than to trust in it. A truck driving around could draw attention during the day but the lights needed to navigate the dark streets would draw even more eyes toward her. It was all a balance of risks.

With the dog in the passenger seat, she pulled out of the drive. The trip to the town was uneventful, all in all. The road into town was smooth and yet she still kept a slow pace. It was better, slower movement drew less attention. On her hip sat the pistol that had become her constant companion. The dog whined and drew her eyes to him. It looks like she has a new companion, one that she wouldn’t feel bad talking to.

Without much thought she turned into a garden store. It was large and greenhouses were lined up outside, covered in a heavy dust. The doors were locked but much like the house she had just come from, it looked just as abandoned as the house she had just come from. A large rock made breaking the glass door easy enough.

~~~~~<3

The trip to New York felt like a waste of time. It was so largely unproductive that it was frankly comical. It had been creepy and unsettling to be flying through American airspace and not having a single plane on the radar. They had yet to manage to get in touch with Tony and the simply reality that none of them wanted to face was that he could be dead.

Dr. Stephen Strange could be dead. Peter Parker could be dead. Tony could be dead.

If Clint could have his whole family turn to dust, it wasn’t unreasonable to fear the same for Tony, Strange and Peter. That was assuming that where ever they had ended up in the space doughnut, they survived long enough to be dusted in the snap. There were other more painful ways to die.

Now as his boots kicked up the layer of dust that had settled on his field, he walked away from the small jet. It was hard not to think about what that dust had been. As the days went by, it got harder to ignore the haze in the distance. In a way it was almost nice to be back at his home, away from the heavy dust cloud that clung to the cluster of buildings that was New York City.

The air was hard to breath in the city. The team had worked hard through their worry, pain and defeat to quickly distribute masks to all those they could locate but there were still many suffering from the poor air quality. It was just one more way Thanos was claiming lives of people who had already suffered so much from the repercussions of his actions.

Those with compromised breathing were dropping like flies in areas with dense populations and what remained of The Avengers were only working the east coast. The dust was found to behave much like ash when mixed with water. The paste that would form in the lungs if exposed to too much air born dust was much like concrete, thickening until they suffocated on the goop.

Clint sat down on the dusty ground in front of the shed he had been sleeping in for the better part of the last two weeks and tried to pull himself together. It seemed he was always on the edge of breaking down, shattering into a million pieces. He couldn’t stomach the thought of going into the farmhouse, to sleep in the bed he shared with Laura when they were all gone. Sleep had been fleeting at the best of times.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night he would wake swearing that he had heard them. In his sleep deprived state he would search the farmhouse, search the lands and never find them. He would spend hours searching, making his way into the town at times. His anguished screams when he realized what he was convinced had surely been a twisted nightmare brought on by too much work and coffee was a reality he wanted no part in would echo over the hills during the night.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: Want in on it? Let me know.

@usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids

#clint barton x oc #clint barton x reader #clint x reader #Clint Barton x Female Reader #clint x oc

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bisexualstokes-archive · 6 years ago

Note

Is it too personal or may I ask what the long story that got you back into George is?

honestly i could use this ask as a way to really sit back and reflect on what’s going on in my life so yeah here’s the story:

(warnings for depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts)

so going way back to my junior year of high school, september 2009-may 2010, that was like…one of the happiest years of my life. I had some really great friends at the time, family life (from what i remember) was more or less going okay (although i remember my parents were pissing me off when i was in driver’s ed), i was getting out more, things changed in my youth group and over all it was just a great year?? and CSI?? Season 10?? was so good??

and then my senior year of high school started, I got into some shit with not just one, but TWO of my friends, one of which I was like..in love with, and I was getting scared because Things Were Changing and I had all this pressure on me to get a job, go to college, etc, etc. (I also did start a job in the summer between my junior and senior years and I had a crush at this job and our relationship got Complicated and we never did anything, I sort of pushed him away cause I thought I was too young to be with someone who was a couple years older than me, and I was just scared about it in general.) But I was still watching CSI. I still loved it. I still loved Nick Stokes/George Eads.

And then came my first year of college, again, still watching CSI, and I was trying–oh god I was trying so hard to keep my anxiety under control as everything was changing, I was in a brand new school where I knew like…nobody (well a few people here and there–I went to a popular community college in my vicinity so I did see a few people from high school) and again getting this pressure to succeed in college cause college just wasn’t a thing people did in my family–not until everyone began to realize how important it was (some of my cousins went back to school and got degrees and such)

and I was also trying to do my best to keep in touch with my friends, trying to mend the cracks in the two friends I had beef with, but another friend–who I had since seventh grade at that point–and I were getting closer and closer (she’s my absolute BEST friend at this point in my life tbh and uhm yeah I don’t know where I would be without her but I’ll get to that later)

and I was still watching CSI, still in love with nick, etc etc–but I was also getting into another obsession…Doctor Who

Sophmore year of college?? I think this is where depression was starting to get to me a bit.

I had absolutely NO idea what I wanted to with my life. Family still pressuring me to succeed, things were getting Complicated with that guy at work, I started another job–so I was working two jobs at one point in my life and going to school which is uh Fun. I can’t remember much but I do remember in general being a bit freaked out over having to change schools cause that was a New thing and I was not good with change (because of my anxiety)

SO then we come to my junior year of college, and so began my dangerous Apathy phase, where I didn’t give a shit that I was failing tests because I wasn’t studying because Doctor Who basically consumed my life. I didn’t care about myself–It’s such a little thing, but I stopped brushing my hair at one point and wasn’t taking care of my body the way I should have–I had never gone to the doctor since my high school days, so I never had regular check-ups

things at this point had ended with my first job and I’ve never seen or spoken to that one guy that I have Regrets with–to this day I wish we gave it a shot tbh, cause he seemed like a geuninely caring, nice guy? (not without his faults of course)

and also uh…I think this was the year I stopped having a regular period.

I’m talking like…I didn’t have a period for months, and I sure as hell wasn’t pregnant

I also stopped watching CSI, for many reasons, for the way GSR was being handled, for the way Nick was getting the promise of all these interesting storylines but NEVER DID and watching Nick/George obviously going through his own shit (cause he definitely gained weight in that season–and NO JUDGEMENT FROM ME TBH cause I’m, uh…technically classified as obese myself), and again, I was also SUUUPER obsessed with doctor who to the point where it was probably hindering my life

at some point in 2015 i did get my period again and was like “OH LOOK I’M ALL GOOD ON THAT FRONT” probably cause this is when I entered my first almost-relationship, a frequent customer at the store I used to work at asked me out and it didn’t work out in the end cause he was um…idk just Not For Me (and a gross ass kisser) but then after that one period, it disappeared again.

OH but in 2015, when CSI ended, I did watch the finale–Immortality even though I was SUPER pissed about Nick being gone (I did go back and watch just his final scene and cried like a baby) and then proceeded to rewatch grave danger for the first time in years at that point–I actually documented that on my blog here lol (and I did all of that instead of studying for a test that I failed the next day lmao)

so blah blah blah had tons of shit going on until 2016, which was possibly the lowest point of my life in terms of depression/anxiety, even though I had finally graduated college, I got a full time job (the same one I’m in now, three years later, very successful I might add–I just got promoted last year and I’m held in very high esteem by many of my superiors so it gets happy)

but in this full time job, I was moved to third shift for a few months, and was forced to work with this one woman who I like DESPISED–although not completely at the time, but to this day I really just can’t stand her (thankfully she quit lol)

so the third shift transition was rough enough, but at least I was into a new show–Person of Interest and I was having the Time of My Life with it but it really did start getting me to think about my depression and mental health, which up until that point I had been ignoring, despite that one friend I mentioned earlier having pointed out to me many times throughout 2015-2016 that I needed to go to therapy (and I just didn’t think it would work, I didn’t want to do it, my social anxiety was screaming FUCK NO the whole time)

also the trump election thing happened and uhm yeah there was that. Got into a LOT of heated discussions…and lost like ALL respect for my step-father (who you’ll still see me refer to as “dad” but i’m pointing out he’s my step father in this instance because I would be ashamed to be blood related to him)

and despite our uh, troubles, my dad did try to get me to watch Macgyver, telling me that “hey, nick stokes is in it!”

but my depressed dumbass was like “oh really? nice” AND THEN DIDN’T WATCH IT LIKE A FUCKING MORON

and on top of that, my house got INFESTED with mice and my parents did nothing outside of setting up mouse traps but it was getting to a point where we found like…five mice in a day and I was starting to see them in the daylight (which is a sign you have an INFESTATION) and ALL of my belongings were getting mouse shit and pee on them (my room is right next to the kitchen) and I ended up purging A LOT of things (including a binder of friendship from the one friend I had trouble with in senior year–which man that hurt to get rid of ((side note, you know what really fucking hurts the most about breaking away from that friend? we’ve known each other since pre-school and I mentioned in tags before about how we do still talk and shit and i am one of her wedding bridesmaids and shit but yeah…not like it used to be)))

and i was getting to a point where I honestly?? just wanted?? to die??

I would say it was like, late 2016 where I was even starting to think of scenarios where I could just…like…disappear? kill myself? I just did not want to exist anymore

2017 came along, fresh start, I kept telling myself. Still had mice in the mouse, but I was fully aware of my mental health issues at this point, and was starting to really listen to my friend more and more, really starting to consider going to therapy (especially now that i had health insurance)

(and also I was beginning to realize I have Feelings for this friend as well–although I gotta wonder if it’s actual romantic love and just not intense friendship cause we really are close friends but like…I could also see us as more? if she were open to it? but I know she doesn’t feel that way about girls and she’s got her own shit to deal with, and i respect that so I never push it or bring it up)

and then? twin peaks: the return came along. Season 3, episode 3, “Call for Help” a fucking masterpiece of an episode and something just…CLICKED in me. Something made me realize, I need to call for help

and so I did.

2017 was the year of therapy, in which I talked about a lot of the shit above, and then I stopped going in I think 2018? when the therapist moved away, but my sessions were getting farther and farther apart anyway, and I felt like I was finally in a better place in my life. I had more coping mechanisms, more awareness of how to handle myself, and I began to realize I really needed to take care of myself more

so i went to the doctor for the period thing, seems like it was some hormonal imbalance cause i was put on birth control to get my hormones back in order (this is my first month off of them so fingers crossed it still works) and by the time august/september rolled around?

I started writing again

and I’m not talking fan fiction, I suddenly had the inspiration to write this original story idea I have for a series that was HEAVILY inspired by CSI–in which the third book in the series is about a guy getting buried alive (and a girl trying to save him but doesn’t because ANGST but that’s another long ass story lol)

which, naturally, made me want to watch grave danger again, for the first time in three years. and then…I suddenly wanted to watch more csi?? from the very beginning??

and so I watched the first four episodes of season 1 again, and Nick/George was back in my life again. And it felt SO FREAKING GOOD.

Then, I watched Macgyver because I wanted to see new George content, and immediately fell in love with jack

Caught up with Macgyver and then finished my csi rewatch, this time watching all of season 13 (which I STILL HAVE MIXED FEELINGS OVER just like season 9) and 14-15 (which i regret not watching when it first aired cause it’s SO GOOD)

and I’m not saying like…Nick/Jack/George is the sole cause of my happiness, the cure for my depression/anxiety (cause that shit never goes away, you just learn to manage it better), nor is he the sole love of my life or anything, but…he’s a huge part of who I am, because in those years, when I was struggling, I lost myself. I lost Nick. But now I found myself again, I re-discovered my passion for Nick Stokes, and i’m just as happy as I was back in 2009/2010, and life is just so good

#aaaaaaand now i'm crying #just...fuck man #i may have gone into uh...TOO much detail here #but honestly maybe not even enough?#but yeah trust me when I say #i'm happy to have nick/jack/george in my life #cause you know that quote nick says about warrick #about warrick being a huge source of strength?#that's how nick is for me #personal #nonny #about me #2019 #reflections

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ceruleanbrooke · 8 years ago

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Scarlet Mansion: Brooke’s Possession

Cast: All Major Characters of Scarlet Mansion

This story is based on a currently going on roleplay, that I do not plan on making public at this time.

”Heh. This'll be far too easy..." a ghostly figure muses, possessing Brooke's body, forcing her soul out of it. "Now, just to make everyone think I am her." She laughs maniacally, knowing the person beside her is deaf. She falls asleep shortly after, saving her energy to destroy her daughters life.

Meanwhile,

"No! No no no no! How?! How the hell did she manage to come back?!" Brooke yells, but nobody hears her. "How is she stronger than I am?! Thoth help me..." she starts to think of ways to get of Christine, once and for all.

The next morning, once everyone is up, Scarlet wakes everyone up with a breakfast she and Lucy made to celebrate the anniversary of George and Christine's divorce.

"Of course that harlot and her net navi thing would celebrate the worst day of my life," Christine thinks, putting in a pair of emerald green contacts, and putting Brooke's glasses on.

"Honey bunches, are you almost ready?" Jarvis asks, wondering what's taking her so long.

"Almost hon!" She replies, touching up her makeup, joining him on her way downstairs.

Once they're in the dining room, Lucy makes a toast.

"On this day, June 20, in 2012, One dumb Bitch, and a caring ex-husband parted ways, leaving 2 children with their father, and the other with an abusive as hell mother. The next week, that same bitch was arrested for child abuse, assault of a minor, and attempted murder. How the fuck she got out of prison early is beyond me. Anyway! To the toast of love conquers all, even when some can't see it"

"Here here!" Cheers the rest of the table. Christine fakes it, so she can't be distinguished from Brooke.

One particular 8 year old asks the wannabe Brooke a question. "Are you okay Brooke? You seem sad..." Her second older brother scoots her away.

"Aw Flo, she's always like that." Crow explains

"No, she's right Crow. It's because this is the anniversary of the second worst day of my life. I'll be okay though." 'Brooke' replies.

"You bitch." The actual Brooke comments, trying to get someone, anyone to notice her! Just then,

"Androne? Did you feel that?" Asks Crescent, feeling a surge run through her circuits

"No... why?" He asks her.

"I thought someone else was here with us... Probably my imagination." She responds.

"If you say so, muffin"

"So close! Scarlet, you're next!" She floats behind Scarlet for a few seconds, knowing she's afraid of ghosts.

"Wh-who's there?!" Scarlet asks, thinking someone's behind.

"Relax Scarlet. It's just me. Want a coffee?" Asks Jacob.

"That'll be wonderful! Thank you Jacob." She replies. As her back is turned, Brooke manages to possess her.

"Sorry Scarlet, this'll only be temporary." Brooke whispers.

She sneaks her way to the server room, finding Crescent's not in a robot and is away from Androne. She triggers Crescent's shutdown, and rewrites code 0x42726F6F6B65 to allow herself to control Crescent's body with a simple phrase.

"CROSSFUSION!" Brooke silently yells. Brooke's soul leaves Scarlet's body as she inhabits Crescent's core code, causing Crescent's outer appearance to change.

"Brooke?!" Asks a very concerned Scarlet, wondering what the hell happened.

"Ssh!" She shushes her as she logs into Crescent's robot and makes her way upstairs.

The first person to notice the apparent change is Androne.

"Crescent? Why do you look like that?" He asks.

"Androne, you need to listen to me. I'm Brooke. You need to get my body out of the house. Tell her that Lucy left a present in the garage. Can you do that for me?" She asks, begging that he understands the urgency.

"Can do 'Crescent'" he winks.

A few minutes later,

"Hey Brooke? Lucy told me she left a present for you in the garage. She didn't tell me what it is though." He tells Christine.

"All right. Thank you Androne!" She dismisses him with a wave of her hand, getting off the couch.

Christine barely makes it out the back door before Brooke attacks her.

"THINK YOU CAN STEAL MY FUCKING BODY?!" Brooke's voice distorts from the volume. “Cr-Crescent?! What the hell are you doing?!” Yells Christine, throwing Brooke off her.

“Don't play coy with me, Mom! This is all a plot to get back at me and my friends!” Brooke yells in response. “Crescent Blaster!” Her arm morphs into a gun “Crescent! Stop!” Lucy yells, not understanding the situation. Androne holds her and the rest of gang back, taking a moment to explain. “Christine's ghost has come back from the depths of hell and has possessed Brooke's body, leading Brooke to find the hex code for her name and modifying the region. By default, us as robots can't be possessed, but I think Brooke has always had a fail safe, for some reason or another. So, Shall we help our friend?” They nod. Helen steps into the field, pinning Christine down. “Now now, Mrs. Summers, I think you're being a total cunt.” “What the FUCK do you know, you god damned freak!” She retorts, venom in her voice, and it stings because it's Brooke's voice. “Stay back Flo. We've got this.” Rook and Crow say in unison, Crow pulling Helen off Christine, and Rook dislocating Christine's shoulders. “OW! IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT THE DAUGHTER OF THE GRANDMASTER OF YOUR GUILD?!”

“I'll have you know, I'm an upstanding gentleman, much like your ex husband. I only treat you like this because you're an asshole infected with AIDS” He replies calmly. Jarvis steps up to Christine next. “I don't appreciate you possessing my bride-to-be. I certainly don't appreciate you making my friend's mother cry. Especially when you're the freak in the room.” He comments, rather coldly, punching her jaw out. Jacob and Scarlet follow behind Jarvis. Not commenting farther on the matter at hand, holding her up, allowing Christine's shoulders to be put back in place.

Brooke steps back in to Christine's field of view. “So mom? How does it feel to be hurt by the people you're supposed to love? Doesn't feel good does it?” She asks, holding her up by her neck. “I was finally ready to forgive you last year for all the shit you did to me, but, after you put a hit on my girlfriend, well, I was all for killing you.”

“Fuck you Brooklyn. You caused me nothing but strife. I thought finding George would make us both happy. And he did, and then he cheated on me. WITH THAT BLIND SLUT!” She retorts. Brooke slaps her. “At least she treats George with respect! At least she treats children like they're supposed to be treated! You deserved to be cheated on. You don't deserve to be happy. You never did. I know you think I'm a burden, I know you've tried to kill me, on more than one attempt, and I know that I should kill you right now, but first, do you have any last words, Christine Dawn Frost?”

“I-I'm sorry Brooke. I truly am. If only I had learned from 2008.” Christine pleads. “The only thing you learned, is how to make others miserable.” Brooke gestures to Jacob, and he proceeds to pull Christine's soul out of Brooke's body.

The long argous process is soon complete, and Jacob holds Christine's soul in a temporary robot body that Crow whipped up on the fly as Brooke re-inhabits her body, cracking her neck.

“Much better!” She walks to Christine, menacingly. “Now, I could just shoot you and end it, but, I have a better idea.” She says as she takes on her Thoth's Blessing form.

“Oh Thoth, I call on your holy and divine powers. Please Help me wash away this blight on my life once and for all!” Suddenly, the ground starts shaking violently. “CHRISTINE DAWN FROST-SUMMERS, FOR CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY, FAMILY, AND THE GUILD, YOU WILL BE SENTENCED TO ENTERNITY BACK IN HELL, BY LUCIFER'S SIDE! BE GONE FOUL WENCH!” Commands Thoth, opening the portal to the pit, throwing Christine in.

“I WILL GET OUT OF HERE! BELIEVE ME!!” She screams. “As long you're in Lucifer's grasp, you shall not!” Brooke soon collapses as her Thoth's blessing disperses. “Thank you Thoth! I'm forever in your debt!” Everyone comes rushing to Brooke's side as she loses consciousness.

“Is she going to okay Crow?” Flo asks, about to cry. Crow nods in response. “She'll be just fine, small fry. She'll be just fine.” He says as Jarvis carries her in and lays her on their bed. “Brooke really did that?” Crescent asks, undoing the changes Brooke made to her code. “She nearly killed her mother, because she was fucking done with Christine's shit.” “Pretty much. She also made another cheesy Mega Man Battle Network reference while she was at it” Scarlet replies. “Of course she did” “Anyway! I'd say it's time to end this story!” Crow exclaims. “What the hell are you on Crow?” Asks Jacob “Oh nothing~!” He replies as he does the Looney Toons closing. “Th-th-that's all f-f-folks!”

#bryandbj writings #Scarlet Mansion

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thegloober · 6 years ago

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Centrists Media Myths Part 1: Reality is Moderates Out of Dem Leadership

There is a long list of pervasive problems in the political press, and we’ll go into different facets in future posts, but two false stereotypes related to centrists and pragmatists in the Democratic Party have gotten to the point where they’ve become a problem in need of a fact check and thorough debunking.

Some in the media have been spreading the blatantly false narrative that, in the Democratic tent, you’re either a progressive, or an establishment centrist. The problem with this is that the proverbial map doesn’t match the territory – the reality being that the Democratic Party leadership struggle is between liberals and progressives, with the shrinking minority of moderates left in the party not having nearly enough votes to have any chance of leading the party.

This misconception is bizarre, as centrist observers and activists – many of us being ex-Democrats because of things like this – know that that battle was lost years ago. Centrists and moderates are a small minority among elected members of high office in Washington now, and have effectively no power in the Democratic Party leadership (even less in the Republican leadership).

The battle for control of the Democratic Party is between liberals and progressives – not centrists.

Centrists form the smallest faction in the Democratic Party tent now, and it’s been that way for years. As the party has progressively (pun intended) moved left over the last several election cycles, moderates have lost seats, while liberals have continued to keep the most power within the party. As moderates have left, or been pushed out, progressives have grown to being the second largest faction – to the point now where they might be able to become the dominant faction in the party within a few election cycles, and already have a good deal of sway in the party.

Centrists have nowhere near the amount of clout as progressives in the Democratic tent now, and liberals – corrupt liberals in particular – control essentially all of the party ‘machinery’ (the DNC, for example). A great illustration of what I’m talking about here comes from Democratic party strategist Ed Kilgore, in a recent column at New York Magazine:

“There’s no question that the story of the Democratic party right now is about the ascending left. There’s a bumper crop of self-consciously progressive candidates running for office this year, while many relatively nonideological “Establishment Democrats” are embracing policy positions and political messages long associated with party insurgents.

But with the 2020 presidential election cycle soon to begin (the first candidate debates will probably be held about this time next year), it’s looking like progressives may have many more viable options for champions to send up against Donald Trump than do the centrists. That’s news in part because centrists have arguably controlled the presidential wing of the party since George McGovern’s nomination in 1972.”

For one, there really isn’t such thing as a ‘nonideological establishment Democrat’ in Washington. That’s just plain not a thing that actually exists in Washington.

Secondly, it’s just plain false to say that centrists have controlled the “presidential wing of the party”. Beyond the fact that that isn’t really a thing to begin with, the reality is that the only center-left presidential candidates the Democrats have fielded over the last few generations have been John F. Kennedy and Bill Clinton.

Let’s look at their last two presidential candidates.

Hillary Clinton’s voting record is squarely in the middle of the Democratic tent, and aligns with the liberal majority of her party, as you can see from the GovTrack chart (on the right – who ), and where she lands at the chart from OnTheIssues.org (on the left – who plot politicians based on public stances):

Barack Obama’s voting record in Congress was that of a progressive Democrat (see chart on the right, below), and his public stances (chart on the left) also place him comfortably to the left – perhaps most accurately labeled as a liberal with strong progressive streak. Not remotely a centrist.

President Obama’s time in the White House showed someone who wanted positions similar to that, and voted for them every chance he got, but he compromised when he didn’t think he could get more, and wasn’t a flaming zealot. This which just makes him reasonable in that respect – not centrist:

Every indication points to progressives having a shot at becoming the dominant faction in the Democratic tent within several election cycles, unless there is a schism in the party that results in the Sanders/Warren wing cutting ties, and the Democrats going back to the big tent party it once was, pretended to be between 2006 and 2009, and could be again.

The latter is a nice fairy tale – similar to the fairy tale that left wing elements have been pushing that claims that the Democratic party is currently a centrist party, (which isn’t surprising given that most have no clue what centrist means), but with so few moderate Democrats left, and the momentum headed the opposite direction.

Democratic Tent Has Even Fewer Pragmatists Left

The second misconception is that the fight for power in the Democratic Party is between pragmatists and progressives. The reality is that pragmatism is an exceedingly rare – and more so every year – commodity among those in Washington. It is even more rare among the leadership of either major party, given how many corrupt politicians you need to get the support of, and special interests one needs to sell out to, to ascend into major party leadership today.

The reality is that the aforementioned corrupt liberals that largely control the Democratic Party are far from pragmatists – even farther than they are from being centrists.

If either major party was controlled by pragmatic leaders, we wouldn’t have seen the electoral pendulum swings of the last couple decades. The Democratic Party knew that they were doing things that the American people would punish them for at the ballot box in 2010, most notably the individual mandate, and – the polar opposite of pragmatically – chose to do them anyway.

Instead of strengthening their electoral gains by continuing the ’50 State Strategy’ of focusing on recruiting candidates that were better electoral fits for their districts or states – the overarching strategy that won them such large electoral gains in 2006 and 2008, they did the opposite. They squandered those majorities and zeroed in on a legislative agenda that included an array of bad ideas that many in their base liked, but the American people at large – and swing voters in particular – had strong disagreements with.

Instead of pragmatically learning from those mistakes, and starting to actually listen to more of the American people, the Democratic party has doubled down on them and gone even farther away from center, while also doubling down on corruption and nepotistic changes to party rules. This was, and continues to be, neither pragmatic, nor centrist.

The party continues to move farther left today, pushing an agenda that drifts closer to the Sanders/Warren wing of the party every year, and now those who are openly hostile to centrists and moderates in their party are much more numerous than moderates, while the aforementioned corrupt liberal faction mostly just sits back and watches it happen, and hopes they can co-opt enough votes from the progressive left and moderate center-left to gain a congressional majority for a few years (before they squander it and cause another 2010-esque wave election).

Including more centrist ideas, that conflict with progressive priorities, in the party agenda is a non-starter as well. The party base isn’t interested in pragmatically building a governing coalition with millions of independent swing voters and voters on the sidelines because they can’t find anyone on the ballot remotely deserving of their votes.

Just like in 2009 and 2010, the party would rather push divisive positions like abolishing ICE, and forcing single-payer healthcare on the country – without even pretending that they’re going to pay for it, and even stooping to attacking those who call for them to share how they’re going to do it without stealing even more from future generations than we already are. They’d rather ram through what they can, and lose a wave election after that, knowing that the Republicans will assuredly hand them the majority back a few years later.

Rinse, repeat – each time causing more and more harm to the long term stability and strength of our country.

False Binaries, and Media Blindness to Centrist & Pragmatic Thinking

The problem here is that so many in the media have adopted this wildly false narrative – similar to the false narrative that the American political spectrum is a binary between red and blue, that there is a binary in the Democratic tent, where anyone more than a few inches to the right of Elizabeth Warren is a centrist. In both the American political spectrum at large, and inside the Democratic tent, reality is far more complex.

In some cases, this seems to partially stem from the problem of so many completely ignoring the huge number of people that stand in the widening chasm between the two major parties. This creates a bizarro, obviously false map where non-left wing liberals are called the same label as non-right wing conservatives like Marco Rubio, even though they’re light years apart ideologically, and their stances are far closer to their more extreme party bases than they are to the center of the political spectrum.

How to solve this is relatively straightforward, though obviously not easy. The fourth estate should educate itself in the full spectrum of the American populace, and stop pushing narratives laden with false, black and white thinking. Even breaking it down to just progressive, liberal and centrist/moderate factions isn’t very accurate, as there are a number of groups within those three, as well as groups that don’t fit into any of them.

Unfortunately, more and more in the media seem more interested in co-opting the language of those selling agendas, rather than representing reality – in search of more clicks, retweets and likes that you get when you preach to the echo chamber choirs those talking points speak to.

Those in the media that push these narratives, that paint a picture where tens of millions of people don’t even exist, not only do centrists, moderates and other people whose views don’t fit in red or blue cookie cutters a disservice, but they’re in no way part of the fourth estate our country so desperately needs right now. They need a reality check, and we need them to start representing that reality, instead of the hyper-partisan fairy tales they’re helping sell.

Author Details

After a few years of blogging on other sites, Solomon launched ‘Rise of the Center’ – the precursor to Uniters.org, leading to a number of interviews and freelance opportunities, most notably covering the 2012 election cycle on WNYC.org – the website for the largest NPR station in the country, in New York City – and reported from the floor of the 2012 Democratic & Republican National Conventions. After a hiatus from politics, the horrific circus of the 2016 election, and more generally increasing extremism and corruption, brought him back to this project.