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youbloodymadgenius · 3 years ago

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Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 4

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello’s masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 2877

Additional note: This is the final chapter. There'll be an epilogue, but you'll have to wait a bit because there are a lot of challenges I've signed up for and I'm way behind schedule.

Enjoy 🙂

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Devastated and angry at the world. That's how Ivar is feeling.

Holed up in his room since the night before, and despite Lagertha incessant requests, he doesn’t plan to come out, not now at least. Come to think of it, he might as well decide never to leave his room again.

He can't stand the idea of facing his brothers. He doesn't want to have to tell them about his failure. He doesn't want to endure Ubbe's pity and condescendence. He doesn't want to see the look of triumph on Sigurd's face. The thought makes his stomach lurch while at the same time a murderous urge creeps into his mind. No, he definitely can't see his brothers.

Surprisingly, and unlike Lagertha, his brothers have left him alone, as if sensing that entering his room would be as moving into a minefield. Only Hvitserk had taken a chance earlier, cautiously poking his head through the door. His disapproving look obvious when his eyes had taken in the scene before him, Ivar's belongings scattered on the floor, some of them smashed into pieces.

"I got you a chocolate muffin from the kitchen, baby bro," he had explained, putting it on a nearby shelf, and it had almost brought a smile to Ivar's face. To Hvitserk, there's no predicament that can't be improved with comfort food.

"Look, Ivar," scratching his neck, Hvitserk had then said, "I don't know what happened and I don't want to pressure you. You tell me when you're ready, if you are. But I'm here, okay? Whatever the time of day or night, you don't have to be alone if you don't want to. If I'm upstairs, just call me, okay?" With these words, he was gone, the door closed.

Ivar can't get the events of the previous evening out of his mind. Like a waking nightmare, they are playing over and over in his head: how he had freaked out when he heard the beeps; the confused and then so disappointed look you had given him when he sputtered his need to leave; finally, his shameful escape into the night.

What could he have done? What should he have done?

He does know the answer. He should have been more cautious. He should have checked the time, asked for your number and just walked away.

On the other hand, what difference would it have made? He would still have no future with you, right? He would still be a cripple, and you would still be... you... perfect... too good for him.

So yeah, he had run away like a coward. He lets out a bitter chuckle to himself. Run away? Who is he kidding? He hadn't run away, that would have been too easy. Cripples don't run away. Without his cane – why the fuck did he leave it behind?? – he had pathetically limped away, stumbling, his feet sinking into the sand. He had still been on the beach when the battery had died. He had had no other choice but to crawl like a worm the rest of the way, silently praying to the gods that the darkness of the night would prevent you from seeing him like this.

Tears of despair run down his cheeks for the umpteenth time. He's used to feeling humiliated, but feeling humiliated and heartbroken simultaneously is really too much to take. He feels like he's dying from the inside over and over again, cursing himself for wanting to attend the party, for wanting to see you again. He should never have let his walls down, he should never have dared to hope. What was he thinking? He may have walked, and even danced with you, but at the end of the day, he still is a pitiable cripple with stupid, crooked legs, in love with a girl way out of his league.

If he's being honest, that's what hurts the most. He now realizes how delusional he had been. Holding on to a dead dream for years, he had not forseen the painful yet unavoidable reality check. And now, it's like he's been hit by a train. Because there's no denying it, dreaming of a life with you is no longer an option, not after last night. And even though it's almost unbearable, he knows now he has to let go of you, of the idea of you and him being together. As much as this mere thought is devastating, he has no other choice. He has to stop fooling himself, for his own sanity, if nothing else.

Giving a guttural cry, much like that of a wounded animal, Ivar doesn't hear when the front doorbell rings. Not that he would have reacted even if he had heard it, too busy wallowing in self-pity.

***

"Thank you for having us here on such short notice, my dear." Your uncle states joyfully, his eyes sparkling, as Lagertha greets him with a handshake and a tight-lipped smile. Even though you don't know why, it's obvious that she's not his biggest fan.

Your uncle, who doesn't seem to notice – or doesn't care, you're not sure – keeps giving her a beaming smile. "My niece here," he turns his head toward you for a short moment, "has a weird request. She met a boy yesterday, during the party. He lost something and my sweet Y/N has been adamant since this morning that she wants to find him and personally return it to him. We were wondering," he turns his gaze in the direction of the couch, "if it could be one of your wards."

There are indeed three young men, half sprawled on the couch, who get up as one when Lagertha gives them a stern look. If you vaguely remember having seen them before, a single glance is enough for you to know that the one you're looking for is not among them.

You're on the verge of saying so but your uncle doesn't give you a chance to. "See boys," he unceremoniously grabs the cane you're holding behind your back, "here is the lost item. A cane! Fairly uncommon, if you ask me. Anyway... Does this... thing belong to any of you?"

Since you know it doesn't, you're surprised when two of the guys both take a step forward. "Actually, it's mine," they say in unison, each of them only then becoming aware that the other is speaking.

Dumbstruck, you look at one then the other successively. They've got a lot of nerve! You know they're lying, and you would have known it even if these two idiots hadn't spoken at the same time. They just look nothing like your handsome stranger – if he's a stranger.

"Sigurd, you know it's mine!"

"Don't play dumb, you never use a cane, Ubbe! Whereas me, I do sometimes. Everyone knows artists tend to be eccentric, right?"

The blondest one – Sigurd if you heard right – points his finger at a guitar leaning against the wall and then winks at you, "I'm a musician, you know?" You don't even have time to roll your eyes as the other one – Ubbe? – yells, his nostrils flaring.

"Shut up Sig, you're so full of shit! You know I've got a sprained ankle!"

"A sprained ankle, no kidding? Who did a ten-kilometer run today, huh? It's not me! So, you are the one going to shut up, you fucking douchebag!"

It's almost funny to watch them arguing back and forth. If you weren't so pissed off, you'd laugh. But right now, you're mostly mad at them. Their blatant lies make your blood boil with anger.

Are they really thinking you're a complete idiot? That you can be fooled so easily? Who do they think they are? Who do they think you are? Some stupid chick ready to fall for their good looks? If they think that, they're kidding themselves.

"You're the fucking douchebag, Sig!! Don’t forget I'm the oldest!"

"And what's the difference, huh? You can't have all the girls, Ubbe! Keep fucking Margrethe and just let me be! Stop being a controlling asshole!"

"STOP!!!! BOTH OF YOU!!!"

Lagertha's shout is deafening and if looks could kill, these two morons would be lying dead on the floor right here, right now.

"Y/N, my dear," Lagertha gives you an apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry for that. I swear they usually know how to behave, better than that at least. Guess they don't know how to handle your striking beauty. Now sweetheart, tell me, is one of these two knuckleheads the one you were with last night?"

The silence that falls on the room after her question is so complete that you could hear a pin drop. Acutely aware that all eyes are on you, you shyly lower your gaze, shaking your head slightly, as you clasp your hands over your belly. You eventually speak, your eyes meeting Lagertha's, and you can see she knows what you're going to say. "No, the guy I was with last night is not one of them."

"How can you be so sure?" Sigurd's voice is soft and tentative now, and Ubbe adds, seemingly for once in agreement with his younger brother, "yeah, how can you? It was pretty dark after all."

You give them a smile. "How can I be so sure? You mean beside the fact that you obviously don't need a cane? Neither of you?" The third brother, who still hasn't opened his mouth, chuckles, giving you a thumbs up. "Look, I appreciate your interest, I really do, but neither of you are the one I am looking for. Therefore," you look at your uncle, "we should leave, don't you think?" Checking the time on your watch, you shrug. "What about the Eyvindsson family? Didn't you tell me about three brothers? We may have time to go and see them tonight if we hurry."

Your uncle nods, handing you back the cane. "You're right, Y/N, we should leave." Taking two steps forward, he grabs Lagertha's hand. "Sorry dear, we will waste no more of your time."

You're about to thank her when one of the boys clears his throat. "Ahem..."

Turning your head, you're surprised to see the third brother, the silent one, raising his hand. "I think I might know who this cane belongs to." Frowning, he glances at his brothers. "And you both know it too."

"Shut up, Hvitserk!" Sigurd spits, clenching his hands into fists. "Don't bring the fucking cripple into the conversation."

"Sigurd! Keep your mouth shut!" Lagertha glares at him for several long seconds then her face softens as she looks at Hvitserk, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What are you trying to say, Hvitserk? Do you think this cane belongs to your baby brother?"

Hvitserk nods. "I know it does, actually."

"Come on, Hvit, you're talking nonsense. It cannot be, it just cannot. That guy was standing. It wasn't our brother. Our brother wasn't there last night." Ubbe stubbornly insists, but Hvitserk just shakes his head.

"Of course, he was. I saw him. And don't bullshit me, Ubbe, you saw him too. With Y/N." Hvitserk states. That's when you realize that your palms are sweating and your pulse is racing.

Hvitserk keeps going, now speaking to his guardian. "I know what I saw, Lagertha. It was him. I don't know how, but he was standing, Ubbe is right. He was even walking. It may sound weird but I swear, it was him."

Lagertha nods. "I believe you, Hvitserk." A beaming smile spreads across her lips and she tilts her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if Floki had something to do with such a miracle. Go get your brother, Hvitserk, please."

Your heart leaps at these words, you're barely able to contain your excitement and as you let out a nervous chuckle, you cannot help but jump for joy. Needless to say, Ubbe and Sigurd seem much less enthusiastic than you.

***

Reluctantly following his brother, Ivar mutters under his breath, "you're pissing me off, Hvit. I'm fucking not in the mood for whatever you have in mind."

Hvitserk pays him no mind though, a small smile dancing on his lips. "Trust me, baby bro, you'll be in the mood."

Ivar wants to protest, or maybe just turn around and wheel back to his room but all at once the sound of your voice reaches his ears and he stops, frozen in place, his eyes wide open. He may have stopped breathing.

Patting his shoulder reassuringly, Hvitserk whispers, "It's Y/N, baby bro, but I have a feeling you already know. She's here for you, she was looking for you, Ivar. Go..." before giving a single push to his brother's wheelchair, his right hand on the backrest.

Ivar honestly doesn't know how he manages to wheel himself into the living room. What he does know, however, is that you're suddenly standing right in front of him. The heart stopping smile you flash him blows all the air out of his lungs, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and the outside world – Lagertha, his brothers, Harald – ceases to exist.

A little voice tells him he should be feeling self-conscious with his hair all messy and wearing worn sweatpants, but he can't bring himself to care, not when you kneel in front of him with stars in your eyes.

"Here you are, finally," you breathe, gently placing a hand on his knee. Ivar didn't know until now that one could die of happiness, but that's exactly what he's feeling and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Swallowing, he blinks several times. When he speaks, his voice trembles, his bottom lip quivering. "Hello Y/N, you were... looking for... for me?" He has trouble getting the words out, his nervous fingers fidgeting on his lap.

Grabbing both his hands in yours, you nod, your thumbs stroking his knuckles tenderly. "I was, yes, and for a very long time."

Shyly lowering his head, Ivar, almost feeling dizzy, can't wrap his head around your words. They're just too good to be true. "But... why?"

"Why?" You giggle, your laughing eyes lighting up your face, and he's positive, you're even more beautiful like this. "Isn't it obvious? I want to know more about you, what's your favorite color, what you eat for breakfast, where you see yourself in ten years. I just want to spend time with you, Ivar."

'Ivar' You've just said his name and it's like the sweetest music to his ears. He can't believe it. Wow. "You... You recognized me?" There's so much hope and joy in his voice, he cringes.

You shrug, your smile never leaving your lips. "I wasn't sure at first. You've changed a lot." Your hand cups his cheek. The sensation on his skin is so overwhelming he has to hold back the tears threatening to gush. Yet, he can't help but think you're speaking about his legs.

He grits his teeth. "Yeah... Standing tall can change a man."

"No! no, no, no," you retort without missing a beat, "That's not what I meant. In my memory you still looked like you did when we were ten, but look at you now, all grown up! Your hair was so short back then." Reaching out, you brush a strand of hair back and tuck it behind his ear before letting your fingers run slowly down and up his bulging biceps, your hand finally lingering on his forearm, "Plus, you clearly work out a lot. So, yeah, I thought it was you, but I wasn't sure. When we were dancing last night, I thought I'd ask you right after, but then you left and... well... I didn't have a chance..."

Ivar wraps his fingers around yours, a frown creasing his forehead. "About that, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left like–"

You shush him, holding a finger to his lips. "It doesn't matter, Ivar. You don't have to explain. All that matters is that I found you." Standing up, you lean forward and gently kiss his cheek and he feels like he's floating. Intertwining his fingers with yours, you whisper in his ear, "I reckon we got some lost time to make up, you and me. Can we go stargazing now?"

Hearing this makes Ivar's insides turn to jelly. Barely able to think, he is on cloud nine and wishes with all his heart never to come back down to earth again. But despite the daze, despite the fog in his head, despite the blinding happiness, he knows one thing: no matter how many stars he sees, you'll be the brightest one.

"Yes, Y/N, you're right," bringing your hand to his mouth, he gives it a kiss, "let's go stargazing."

And as he leaves the room, you walking alongside him with your hand on his shoulder, his heart filled with joy and wonder, he doesn't miss the thumbs up Hvitserk gives him, nor the scowl on Ubbe's and Sigurd's faces.

For a fleeting second, he thinks he should – he could – taunt them. They deserve to be laughed at, don't they? But then, he realizes he doesn't have time for that. The time for happiness has come, and it's far more important.

Giving you a beaming smile, Ivar inhales deeply before releasing a sigh of satisfaction. Yeah. Happiness. Happiness sounds good.

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Ivar’s taglist: @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace @grimeundglow @quantumlocked310 @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @adrille88

Ivarello's taglist: @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @hashimily @prepare4trouble @supernaturalvikingwhore @funmadnessandbadassvikings @heavenly1927 @dini73

#ivar #modern ivar #modern!ivar #modern-ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #ivar fic #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #cherrypie’s500 #fairytale retelling #ivarello

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 4 years ago

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The Only Living Thing

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Language.

Synopsis: You’ve been friends with BIlly Russo for as long as you can remember. Then, on that one night in New York, feelings get mixed up with the liquor that burns and everything spins out of control. So much for being the only living thing that Billy Russo has ever cared about... Or is it? A/N: This just sort of happened. I may be writing more if you guys want, I think I can definitely take this further? I have a pretty hectic schedule but I might make it happen x

Song : Adam French - The Only Living Thing

New York, November 2019.  

Breathtaking.  

You are breathtaking, like the most beautiful view from atop the mountain or his biggest fear coming alive under his stare.   You’re a mix of excitement and terror, and you are enchanting enough to keep him on the tips of his toes, second-guessing everything, his every decision and every word...

You are meant to leave him wanting more.

The night New York has never looked so good on a woman before.

Billy’s vision goes blurry for a second, his stomach hot and heavy.

You are glowing.

You radiate a kind of a warm sepia glow, so beautiful and genuine and so fucking effortlessy...

Smooth and unapologetic.   

Messy strands of hair framing your face, your blushing cheeks, as you laugh your heart out, throwing your head back. Your pearl teeth flash in the dimness of the bar. Your thin black tights are torn at the thighs, your lips are red and irritated as you sink your teeth in, again and again.

Your laugh is flamboyant, intoxicating. Raw.

You are something else...

When suddenly, you see him, your black eyelashes fluttering as you wink at him. Billy’s chest feels too wide, too fragile and too hot. Do you see those unspoken words shining out of his drunken eyes?

When you make your way to him through the crowd, he’s paralyzed, afraid to move forward, afraid to scare you off, but mostly, afraid to let everyone see how desperate he is for your touch.

This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but why in hell when you come over, throwing your elegant arms around his neck, your cute perky nose touching his chest - it feels so. fucking. right?! Like you were custom-made for each other?...

Before he can stop himself, he slides an arm around your waist. You say something to him, something funny, for everyone around him snorts and chuckles, but his mind, his entire world - suddenly comes down to that spot just below his cheekbone where you plant a soft peck of your velvet pouty lips.

“Those twenty bucks we bet on? I win,” you half laugh, half exhale in his ear, your lips brushing against the lobe. “Madani is fucking obsessed with you”.

“Ah,” Billy smiles, both of his hands snaking around your waist now as he looks down at you.

...And I am fucking obsessed with us.

“And you just enjoy rubbing us - this! in her face right now, aren’t you?” he mutters instead, his temples buzzing with the gin and tonic he has been downing all night.

God, he hopes you’re too buzzed to have noticed his slip of fucking epic proportions.

He promised himself he wouldn’t drink, not with you still around - because whatever it was that he felt for you mixed with liquid that burned equaled a very bad outcome.

He might be well into the tipsy territory by now but Billy isn’t delusional. The chances that you would go back to his place or even kiss him back are entirely too slim.

Because friends don’t do friends.

Friends might as well become a new f-word for all Billy cares at this point.

When you throw your head back in an explosive laugh, Billy’s distracted. He gets an extensive view of your elegant neck, your delicate collarbones, but mostly - of the swell of your mouthwatering breasts, as your black silk top tightens over them.

Fuuuuck him.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you echo his thoughts somehow as you wink at him once you’ve restored your breath, not stepping away from his embrace, however, letting him keep his hands on you.

It’s always like this between the two of you. You’ve known each other for a while now - four, five years? After Billy bumped into you at a brunch at Liebermans’ and spilled his frappuccino all over your gorgeous rack. He wasn’t even going to come - but boy, was he glad he did - even though you wasted no time opening that sassy mouth of yours and verbally eviscerating him.

This wasn’t a love at first sight.   For you, at least.

“At least buy me a dinner first,” Billy barely manages, his vision a tad blurry.

He notices you giving him an unimpressed stare. Feeling stupid all at once, Billy blinks quickly and lets go of your waist...

Only to tremble on his feet and almost fall on his face.

“Heyyy,” he registers your breath on his cheek before he hears what you’re saying, your small hands holding him in place. Your touch burns through the fabric of his button down shirt as your palms slide up his sides to his shoulders. “You okay there, Russo?”

Billy squirms, chomping on his bottom lip as he grabs you by your elbows.

‘’M fine”, he says quietly, but doesn’t let go. When he lowers his stare to meet your eyes, he almost wants to cry. There’s concern in their bottomless depths, worry for him and desire to make it all better. He just wishes there was more heat there, and less of that f-word that ends with -riends.

“You don’t look fine, lover,” you retort, wiggling and pushing and pulling onto him until you’re snug under his arms and carrying his dead weight to the exit. “Let’s go get some fresh air, come on.”

Billy utters something half-heartedly, his head feeling like it’s filled with cotton. He didn’t even drink that much, as least he doesn’t think so. Must be your fucking intoxicating perfume, sweet but voluptuous and so fucking tempting...

Pure sin.  

Even drunk out of his fucking mind, he’s still the envy of every guy at that bar because he’s with a stunning, breathtaking, prettiest woman in the whole damn world that is you.

“If you were able to stand right now, that line might have gotten you laid,” you inform him with a laugh, basically carrying him to the exit on your shoulders.

Through the drunken haze, Billy realises he might have spoken those words out loud, but the terror is quickly replaced by...

“Are you shitting me?” He slurs, trying to stay vertical. “Are you saying you want me?”

By the time the words escape his mouth, you have pushed the exit door wide open and nudged him to step out. Losing his balance, Billy crashes into Frank, Stein and Madani, smoking outside.  Dina’s eyes flash mischievously as you step out of the bar, immediately throwing your arms around Billy protectively, helping him to steady himself.

“Oh, so it’s common knowledge now, then?” Dina ventures, licking her lips bloodthirstily, her eyes never quitting yours. “You’ve finally admitted you want to drag that fine Caspian ass in your bed?”

The running joke aimed at Billy looking like a Disney prince feels out of place; all conversation is silenced out as you narrow your eyes at Madani, your grip around Billy’s waist instantly becoming tighter. Frank clears his throat in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness, but doesn’t intervene.

And Billy is... well, happy. Over the moon, actually, and still drunk off his ass.

Apparently, you have been wanting to drag his ass into your bed for a while now!

That does mean you see him more than a friend, right?

What if... What if all this time you were just as hung up on him as he was on you, but neither of you had the balls to say anything?

In his picture perfect drunken world, Madani makes sense and his heart sings.

You want him.

If it were a Disney cartoon, animals would be singing and dancing around praising your couple.

Frankie would have probably made a sick unicorn.

“Oh Dina”, suddenly your voice cuts right through Billy’s happy fantasy, and there’s way too much sass in that voice for it to belong to a Disney princess. “Just because your friend Sam here and your own desperate fan-girling ass carry a boner for some fucked up teenage fantasy that involves boinking Prince Caspian, doesn’t mean all women have that same one-track mind. Some of us can actually look past a dick and see a friend. So why don’t you lay off that Cosmopolitan and fuck off, vodka-cranberry sure ain’t making you brighter”.

Billy frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead.

Frank snorts with laughter, not even bothering to conceal his reaction.     You hold Dina’s hateful stare.

“Whatever, bitch” the latter one finally utters, throwing her cigarette away. “I never fucking liked you. Maybe after this your little fanboy here will see you for what you really are - a fucking coward and a tosser”, Billy’s stares at her in disbelief, his mind still foggy. Madani’s dark eyes flash dangerously in his direction. “Of all women, Russo... Karma is a bitch, isn’t she? Your little princess here only loves herself, lover. Get out while you fucking can”.

Smashing her shoulder into yours, Madani goes back into the bar, leaving equally dreary and awkward silence behind.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Frank isn’t laughing anymore as he folds his hands on his chest, giving you a questioning eye.

You roll your eyes dismissively.

“Well, she’s obviously shit-faced,” you shrug, sliding your hands off of Billy. “What, you’re surprised she hates me?”

It’s a whole another world there, in Billy’s head. Have you just distanced yourself from him after what Madani said? What, you thought he’s so drunk he wouldn’t fucking notice?

“...so just because I have basic restraint and actually appreciate a man as a friend, I’m a damaged bitch with a twisted sense of humour? Look, I don’t know, Frank”, you rub your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.

“I do,” Billy suddenly chimes in hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and dark, darker than usual, as they narrow at you. “Know. I know.” Billy stutters, then takes a deep breath. “That’s all I am to you then, sweetheart? A friend?”

Billy wavers a bit as he speaks, but his words are deadly. Your eyes pop wide open at his words, like Russo has just grown a penis on his forehead. Frank’s mouth forms a silent O.

And just like that, the tension is back.

“Well, of course you are my friend,” you say slowly, stretching out your hand in an attempt to grasp Billy’s wrist. Your eyes are searching his face, but he’s locked, like a goddamn prison cell. “You’re my friend and I love you”.

Wrong answer, if Billy’s expression is anything to judge by as he recoils from your touch. His face is a mix of disappointment and anger, his lips a thin line as he turns away.

“Fucking idiot,” he mutters under his breath as he turns on his heels and makes a tentative step towards the bar. Only his body is ruled by gin and whatever shit he chased it with, so his feet get mixed up together. Billy trips over his own shoes.

“Hey, easy there, tiger”, Frank, who’s been standing closer, grips Billy by his arm to help him keep his balance. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

Billy chuckles, throwing his head back, and that has got to be the most bitter sound you have ever heard. You shudder involuntary, watching Russo like a hawk.

“I would have given you the fucking world, you know that?” Billy stares you dead in the eye, grabbing the door handle in front of him. “You just keep fucking with my head like a fucking sadist, and I live by the shit you give me!” you blanch as Billy goes on with the program, hurt dripping from his mouth. “Must have always thought that should be some spectacular pussy you’ve been packing, totally worth all your shit”.

“Bill!” Frank calls him out sharply, his expression terrified.

But the damage is done.  

Your eyes are brimming with tears, but you stay silent, unblinking. Your chest seems a little caved-in, but you hold your chin high as your trembling lips start to move.

“Fuck you, Russo”, you spit, “Fuck you, friend”.

The next thing he knows, Billy explodes in a fit of bitter laughter - even though all he wants to do is fucking cry.

This just goes to fucking show there’s no such thing as Disney fairytale in real life, is there?

“Oh don’t worry, friend, somebody will,” he promises you, swinging the door to the bar wide open. “Gonna go help Madani fulfil her teenage fantasy. While you can stay here, think about us fucking like rabbits and feel better about yourself”.

With those words thrown over his shoulder, he steps into the crowded bar, the sound of the door shutting behind him sounding final.

Plot twist. Curtain falls.

Frank can’t even venture a look at you - he doesn’t even hear you breathing.

“He’s just piss off drunk, that’s it. He doesn’t mean it,” Castle attempts to do some damage control, even though he knows that that ship has most definitely sailed.

“Thanks, Frank,” he hears you say quietly, and as he raises his eyes, he catches the sight of you wiping your cheeks quickly.

You inhale slowly, closing your eyes and fisting your hands.

“Tell Karen and the guys I wasn’t feeling so hot, okay?” you ask, and there’s definitely pleading in your voice.

You never plead.

Before Frank can ever mutter anything about Karen having his head if he lets you walk away at night all alone, you wave at him dismissively.

“I’ll see you”, you say as you collect your hair in a ponytail and walk off, your silhouette soon lost in the bustling New York night.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo #billy russo angst #the punisher imagine #billy russo imagine #billy russo story #billy russo au #the punisher story #the punisher

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beef-brisket · 2 months ago

Text

((Ima butt in 😝))

Lucifer glared at the fake Adam: Why am I still seeing you? Adam's alive! I don't need you!

Ghost Adam: Oh, yes, you do~. Why do you think I told you to double-check my body? You hoped I was still alive, to torture me~.

Lucifer: W-What!? That's not true!

Lucifer stormed out of the room. He didn't hear Adam weakly call for him, he couldn't focus on anything but his blood rushing in his ears. He doesn't know if he was angry at the fake Adam or at the situation. Maybe both.

Ghost Adam: Oh, definitely both~. You want to make me pay~. Punish me for those millions of sinners I took joy in killing~.

Lucifer: No.

Ghost Adam: No? Hm. I wonder if you'd feel differently if I told you that I can still feel your daughters neck between my hands~. I can feel the bones pop and her throat strain as she tries to breath~. My only regret? That I didn't crush her airway!

Lucifer: Shut up!

Ghost Adam: And now, after all of this! I'm still breathing! Even after being buried in Hell's dirt for days! Even after having the shit stabbed out of me! I'm still fucking kicking! The cunt that tried to kill your pathetic, delusional daughter is alive AND can't remember anything! You think you have another shot?! You have nothing! You want to torture me! Skin me! Throw me to the streets and let those sinners do whatever they want! And you'd watch. Every. Second~.

Lucifer: Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!

The walls around him burn, and the carpet melts as Lucifer's demonic form comes out. Hellfire surrounds him.

Lucifer: None of that is true!

Ghost Adam: Yes it fucking is! You're just too much of a pussy to believe it!

Lucifer: I'M NOT WHAT YOU THINK I AM!

Ghost Adam: You're the fucking DEVIL! Act like it! Deliver punishment! Make me fucking suffer! Make me BURN!

Lucifer glares as the fake Adam catches on fire, his clothes and flesh melting and falling off his bones.

Lucifer: GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD!

Ghost Adam: I'm not in your head. I AM your head. Your deepest thoughts. Your desires. I'm everything you're afraid of~. I'm everything the big boss of Hell himself is scared of~.

In Your Head

Lucifer sighed as he held the guitar that he took from the battlefield. It was Adams guitar and aside from a few scratches it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Lucifer: I'm going to miss you old friend.

Though, was friend the right word? Adam was so much more than a friend to Lucifer.

Watching him get stabbed like that had been very hard.

Was it though?

Lucifer snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked at the angel he thought to be long dead, his helmet gone and golden blood staining his robe.

Lucifer: A-Adam? What, how are you here!?

Adam smiled at him and it was too sweet for the Adam of today the one that he turned into. But not the Adam he knew in Eden.

Adam: Oh come on Luci, you're smarter than that. No one comes back from an angelic blade to the heart. Thanks for that by the way.

That nickname sliced through his core, he hadn't heard it in so long he almost forgot that's what Adam used to call him.

Lucifer: You're not real are you?

Adam: Bingo baby! Awww, it's actually sweet. You miss me so much that I actually take up space in that head of yours.

Lucifer: Why are you so..... Nice? But look like that?

Adam shrugged and moved to sit down beside him: Probably because you don't really remember what I looked like in Eden, but more how I acted. So you just kinda...... Married the past with the present. I don't know boo, it's your mind.

Lucifer felt Adam touch his hair as if to tuck it behind his ear, but since he wasn't real the hand just went right through him.

Lucifer: I don't get it, you weren't like this in Eden.

Adam: Maybe I'm a version you've always wanted.

That made sense in a way.

Lucifer: Why would I want a polite slightly flirty version of you?

Adam smiled gently and leaned in: Come on Luci, you know why. Stop lying to yourself.~

His breath hitched in his throat, sure he had always thought about what could have been between them but...... It was always just a fantasy.

Adam: A fantasy you could have made real.~

Lucifer: You didn't want me.

Adam: How would you know? You never asked or tried. You could have had me all to yourself.

Lucifer: I could have?

Adam: Yeah. But now you never will.

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

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a-singleboat · 4 years ago

Text

Serious

Word Count: 3.3k

Request: can you do emily prentiss x fem!reader with some angst? Thanks! - anon

Warning(s): Reader gets kidnapped, blood, stabbing, general gore

When you first started dating Emily Prentiss, you knew the risks. It wasn’t easy dating a high-profile government employee, especially when you were roughly six years younger than her. If anything, it made it even harder especially when your lives didn’t seem to line up at all. While she was Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in the FBI, you were working toward your first pHd out of, hopefully, two.

So while she was out catching serial killers and the rest of the mortal evil in the world, you were attending classes and conducting research on “The effectiveness of rehabilitation in prisons and the criminal justice system.” It was riveting stuff, really. A pHd in forensic psychology would put you on the path to becoming a criminal researcher like you’d always dream of.

Well, technically you wanted to be a criminal profiler but you weren’t all too athletic and based on knowing what your girlfriend did, decided on a career change shortly after gaining your bachelors. What Emily did seemed exhausting, quite frankly, and you could make just as much of a change as she did out in the field by sitting in a lab.

But what made things really hard between the two of you was the fact that due to who you were as a person and what Emily did for a living, you have attracted a very adamant stalker who was twice as likely to turn violent than the rest of them simply because he’d known you earlier on in life.

Unfortunately, your oh-so-loving stalker was a man by the name of James Carlton, who’d felt slighted in the way you’d rejected him several times over the course of your high school career. Yeah, you didn’t really pick up the sentiment of “Treat People with Kindness,” until about midway through your sophomore year of college. Some could say you’d brought this on yourself.

“I’m okay,” you assured your girlfriend through the phone, crossing your arm over your torso and leaning against the wall. It reeked of cigarette smoke despite the huge sign on the wall stating that smoking was prohibited within fifty feet of the establishment. You peered through the gauze-like curtains, searching the motel parking lot for the tell-tale sign of the FBI’s arrival. “I’m just a bit shaken up. Though, I think he might have my psychology paper. I can just reprint that though.”

“Of course out of everything you’re worried about, it's your goddamn paper. You shouldn’t be worried about your grades when your life is in danger,” Emily advised, the sirens blaring in the background.

“But my grades are all I have right now, well, except for you.” You risked another glance out the window. “How long until you guys get here?”

“Five minutes, tops,” Emily assured her. “We’ve already passed the library.”

A shadow passed in front of the window as you took a step back in shock, the frightening electric blue eyes of the very man you were running from staring straight at you. He pressed a sheet of paper against the window, a sadistic grin spread over his features as he leaned into the musty glass.

In crude sharpie, the words YOU CAN’T HIDE FOREVER had been scrawled over the careful ink of your psychology paper. You really couldn’t pass that in for a grade now.

Smoke started to creep into your room through the vents, forcing you into the center of the room as you covered your mouth and did everything you could not to breathe in. You just had to last four more minutes.

You whimpered as you saw the door handle jiggle, James having disappeared from the window to attempt breaking down the shoddy motel room door. You could barely hear Emily asking what was going on over the thumping of your own heart as your vision blurred. It was either you stopped breathing and passed out or took a breath in and passed out anyways.

You managed to whisper, “He’s here,” into the receiver before you collapsed, gasping for air. Not even a moment later, you felt a hand at your waist as someone heaved you over their shoulder. Unfortunately for you, it probably wasn’t Emily.

By the time you came to, you were already thoroughly scared. Your dreams had been anything but pleasant, flashes of torture blinding you even before you were awake. But still, you kept your eyes closed and your breathing even as you tried to figure out where you were.

It felt dark. With nothing covering your eyes, you could tell that it was as well. The air smelled damp, like an old towel that had been left sitting for too long. It was cold as well and as far as you could tell, you were underground. You were willing to bet you were in a cellar of some sort.

Slowly, you moved your left foot only to realize your ankles had been shackled to the extremely uncomfortable bed. It felt like you were laying on hay, which was completely possible. The prickly sensation at your back was either that or hair, which would have been extremely unfortunate.

A door opened on the other side of the room, causing you to stiffen. You choked back a sob as you struggled to keep your breathing under control.

“Oh, Y/n,” James cooed, running a finger down the side of your face. You heard more footsteps before the door slammed shut, causing you to tense up once more. “You’re awake, aren’t you, baby?”

You figured there was no reason to hide anymore, flinching away from him and his use of the pet name. Emily called you baby all the time, something you’d grown to like in your relationship. You never liked the name before her.

“What?” he asked, pulling down your blindfold. “You don’t like it when I call you baby?”

Instead of focusing on him, you turned your head so you could analyze where you were. You were right, it was dark. There was a dim floor lamp in the far corner, weakly emitting an eerie glow over the room. By the lamp, barely within reach of the light, was another man. He had a gun on his hip and stood protectively in front of the door, as if he were waiting for something.87

James was a lot more prepared for your abduction than you originally thought. This would make it difficult for your rescue but to be honest, you were doubtful that you would make it to the next day.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look up at him. You tried to sink further into the scratchy mattress but he followed you, a sadistic smile on his face as he just got closer the more you tried to shrink away. “You thought you were safe?” He got closer, chuckling. His rancid breath washed over your face and you held your breath until it subsided. “You’ll never be safe. Not as long as I’m alive. You know why?”

You really didn’t want to know why.

“Because I’d follow you to the ends of the earth, darling.” He traced a finger down the side of your face. “You’re never getting away from me again. You’re mine.”

“You’re delusional,” you managed through gritted teeth. “I’ll never be yours. I wasn’t in high school and I sure as hell am not now.”

James scoffed. “You popular girls were always the same. Always thinking you’re better than everyone just because you were well liked.” He slapped you, causing your head to whip to the side. The sting from his palm meeting your cheek hurt more than it normally would. You could already tell that it was already reddening even without the help of a mirror. “Though, I have to give you props. Ashlynn didn’t last this long before she was sobbing for her life. You really surprised me.”

“Ashlynn?” This was news to you. In high school, you’d surrounded yourself with like-minded individuals all more self-conscious than the last. Ashlynn was the “head bitch” as others put it. She was like the Regina George of your friend group. “So after me you’ll go for Georgia and Penny, is that it?”

“You always were the smart one, weren’t you?” James said, backing off. He walked over to a table just out of sight, picking up a knife and running it over a whetstone a few times. You winced at every stroke, watching as he sharpened his weapon with glee.

“You really should have saved me for last,” you said, choking down any fear. James raised the blade into the air, admiring the sharp edge before strolling back over to you. He pressed the knife against your collarbone, barely applying any pressure.

“And why’s that?”

“Because my girlfriend’s going to come for me,” you said, gasping as he forced the blade into your skin. You felt the trickle of blood slide down the side of your neck until it dripped off onto the mattress. “She’s an FBI agent, you know.”

James rolled his eyes. “And Ashlynn’s husband was a cop. She still died.” He pulled the knife back, resting the tip on your arm. “They still haven’t found her body, you know. It really shouldn’t have been too hard to find though. It’s where you and the rest of them used to hang out everyday after school.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You stiffened your arm, pushing into the mattress to escape the knife. There were two outcomes that you could see. Either Emily dramatically bursted into the cellar and managed to save you just in time or you got marked up and eventually bled out. You crossed your fingers and sent out a mental prayer that Emily would get to you in time.

The tip of the knife dragged over your arm, splitting your skin like the Red Sea. Strangely, it didn’t hurt. The knife was so sharp that you couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not but at least it saved you from the pain.

“Why am I telling you this…?” James brought the knife up and cut down the middle of your shirt, leaving you exposed. He traced a few letters over your stomach with his finger before turning the knife over in his hand, pressing the weapon blade-side down. It cut into your skin, the beginnings of an “M” blossoming on the right side of your stomach. “Because you’ll be dead by morning. If you refuse to be mine then there’s no point in keeping you alive. You think your idiot of an FBI agent can save you in time?” He finished carving his word into your stomach, pain blossoming across your entire midsection causing your sight to go blurry. He’d pressed harder that time which meant you actually felt each excruciating cut he made.

James took a step back, taking the moment to admire his handy work before thrusting the knife hilt-deep into your stomach.

You felt the pain, a searing white-hot pain right underneath where your belly button was. If you breathed wrong, you could feel the knife move, which was horrifying in many ways. You tried to make your breaths more shallow on purpose, not wanting to disturb the weapon jutting out from your stomach.

And, just like a movie, the door burst open a moment later. Shouts of “FBI!” and “Hands up!” could be heard. You watched through blurred vision as James put his hands up, laughing maniacally as the blood left your body. Not only could you feel the blood drip down your collarbone and arm, but you could tell that your stomach was doing a good job of acting as a waterfall, watering the mattress below you.

Unfortunately for you, your stomach’s waterfall performance was not beneficial to the cause of keeping you alive. The last thing you saw before succumbing to the darkness was your girlfriend’s extremely worried face and the muffled sounds of her beautiful voice. Too bad you didn’t stay awake long enough to hear any more.

Emily was struggling between acting as the Unit Chief her team needed her to be and playing the understandably worried girlfriend to the woman that was bleeding out in front of her not even four hours ago. Thankfully they’d gotten to you in time. You hadn’t been bleeding for too long and the knife hadn’t been taken out which improved your chances of survival by a good amount. Emily wasn’t really paying attention when Reid was prattling off your survivability rate. She was more focused on making sure you actually survived.

You’d lost a lot of blood. That wasn’t arguable. By the time they reached you, your neck was drenched as well as your arm. The pool of blood in your stomach wasn’t comforting either and the second she saw what had been carved into your skin, Emily had to excuse herself for a moment to go throw up in the bushes.

And the worst part… the worst part was that you looked dead. You looked exactly like a victim in one of the many photos she’d see in a day. Your hair was wet--from what, she didn’t know, and you looked awful. After years of looking at the photos and consoling grieving families, she never even imagined that she’d be the one to be consoled.

“The doctors are hopeful, but she lost a lot of blood,” JJ said, resting a hand on her shoulder. Emily didn’t react. She had your scarf clenched in her hands. It was the same scarf you’d given her after it started snowing on your fifth date together and you had to escape into your apartment that was nearby. You’d said that it looked better on her and smiled. God, she’d give anything to see you smile again.

It was crazy how five years of love could be erased in just a day. Five years of morning phone calls when Emily was away, five years of at-home dinners after a long case, five years of just existence with you… it hurt to think about how quickly it could all just be gone.

“This is all my fault,” Emily muttered, twisting your scarf through her hands. She let the fabric slip through her fingers, watching as it fell into a heap on her lap. “I should’ve never left her alone.”

“You can’t blame yourself for that,” Reid was standing in front of her on her left side, his arms crossed across his chest. As much as he tried to make it seem like he hadn’t been crying, he didn’t really do a good job with hiding it. His eyes were red and his cheeks blotchy. The fact that he was sniffling didn’t help either.

Reid and Y/n were best friends for years before Emily came along. The two of you actually met through Reid. You’d brought him lunch one day and it took about five weeks of seeing you around before Emily got the guts to ask if you were single--to which Reid had smiled wide at and answered that yes, you were single.

“I was the last person to see her,” he said. “If anything, it was my fault.”

Rossi scoffed. He didn’t know you as well as Reid or Emily but after years of having you as Emily’s plus one for dinners at his mansion, he’s gotten to know you better than most. You saw him as a father figure and he saw you as one of his own. “Neither of you should be blaming yourself. Y/n is here and she’s safe, that’s all the matters now. We can’t change the past.”

Says the man who obsessed over an unsolved case from his prime, Emily wanted to say. But she held back. Arguing wouldn’t get them anywhere and as much as she hated it, Rossi was right. You were safe with six government agents plus one technical analyst and one retired government agent sitting outside the room where you were receiving surgery.

“Y/n’s tough,” Morgan said, resting his own hand on Reid’s shoulder. He’d been there a lot toward the beginning of your relationship, quickly becoming the older brother type that you never get to experience as an only child. “You both know that. She’ll pull through.”

The night passed into its eighth hour when the doctors finally emerged. Emily was the first to stand, slapping Reid’s shoulder until he woke up and stood with her. The rest of the team had either passed out or left. Alvez had gone home, as had Lewis. The only other people that remained were JJ, Morgan, Garcia and Rossi.

“Most of the injuries she’d sustained were superficial. They should heal within a week or so,” the doctor, Dr. Smith, informed them. “She’ll be in pain for a few good weeks as she heals. The stab wound to her stomach will take longer to heal, the knife having gone deep enough to penetrate her uterus. We expect she’ll make a full recovery.”

Emily frowned. “And the carving?”

“Wasn’t deep enough to scar,” Dr. Smith assured her. “In fact, most of the knife injuries should heal without scarring. Just the stab to her abdomen should scar.”

Reid nodded, thanking the doctor before turning to Emily. He looked more relieved than worried, which was a good thing. Y/n would be okay.

“I thought I was going to lose her,” Emily said. Your scarf had become a bracelet of sorts, securly tied around her wrist. It still smelled like you, though it had faded since you’d given it to her.

“Do you want to go in and see her first?” Reid offered, looking over at the Intensive Care Unit you’d been moved into. They could see you through the glass now. You were asleep, most likely exhausted, and rightfully so. You looked peaceful asleep, a familiar and welcome sight, though she usually saw you like this when she came home late from cases.

“Shouldn’t we let her sleep?” Emily asked, eyes not moving from your still frame.

Reid looked over his shoulder. “Well, I don’t think anyone’s going to go home until she’s awake. You could go sit with her until she does.”

Emily nodded but she didn’t move. She was torn between wanting to be by your side and wanting to just leave you be. Reid pushed her toward you, motioning for her to get along with it.

She crossed the threshold, closing the door behind her. Immediately, the silence was apparent. Compared to the occasional sound of chatter in the hallways, your room was completely silent. It was a welcome change, though Emily would have much rather preferred the space be filled with your laughter.

Emily pulled a chair from the wall over to where you laid, sinking into the uncomfortable faux leather. She reached for your hand, taking it in hers. Your skin was still as soft as ever thanks to the hand cream you use nearly every chance you get. The dumb little habit had things slipping from your fingers more often than not but Emily was always there to catch the occasional glass.

You had a few paper cuts from the speed at which you read, and though you were nowhere near Reid’s 20,000 WPM, Emily swore that you consumed material faster than he did. For a brief moment, Emily thought about leaving you. The world was dangerous enough as is without a constant target on your back because of her occupation. Maybe you’d fare better with someone who wasn’t as high profile.

But then she thought about what you would say--you’d reprimand her for being an absolute dumbass before telling her that dinner was ready with a smile. Emily leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your palm before settling back into the seat. She refused to let go of your hand, bringing the chair as close as possible.

Emily would wait a thousand years if it meant you’d wake up and be in her arms once again. She drifted off to sleep with your hand still firmly intertwined with her own, a reminder that you were safe and that she would never let go of you again.

TAGLIST

PERMANENT

@beautiful-holland @toms-order @starlightfound @grandmascottlang @positiveparker @bippity-boppity-boopa @caswinchester2000 @andreasworlsboring101 @imladylunaticbitch

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 6 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs “Friendship Bracelet.”

So this next story is based requests I have been getting frequently. Know that this is a rather large topic, so I may do similar prompts in the future.

Please keep sending me your ideas, comments, thoughts, and questions. I love seeing any and all of the above.

It takes almost 25 years for human offspring to reach full cortical maturity.

The average human can weight anywhere between 90 and 300 pounds with outliers dipping down to 70 pounds and reaching up to 700+.

Human skin color ranges on a scale of mostly brows and creams with translucent white at one end and ebony black at the other end. Heights can be anywhere from 4.5 to 7 feet on extreme ends of the spectrum.

Human hair is likewise set out on a spectrum of blond to black or, rarely, auburn, red or strawberry blonde.

Due to the nature of the human physiological structure, their infants are born surprisingly underdeveloped. To keep these infants alive, the humans create pack structures known as families. The classic nuclear family usually includes two parents and anywhere from 1- 20 children (in extreme cases) the parents are in charge of taking care of the offspring until a predetermined age when the offspring is expected to take care of themselves.

A human child reaches milestones of maturity which determine the health of the child. A window of age determines when it is normal for a human to talk, walk, laugh, smile, and begin speaking.

Humans are one of the only creatures in this galaxy to mature at such a slow degree. They are also one of the only species known to give live birth to their offspring, which may be why their children are born so vulnerable.

Human social ties are what keep the offspring alive until maturity.

***

Krill sat in the back of the car squished between two of the three brothers inside his specimen tube staring down at the snow which was coming down in thick flurries. Captain Vir and his second oldest brother sat in the back seat of the car as the old human drove his way careful through the snow. The other two brothers had taken the oldest brother’s care and would be following shortly behind.

Waffles, the dog, sat on the floor just in front of Krill head resting on the captain’s knee.

Apparently, it was normal for the humans to go out in weather like this. Traveling in a blizzard wasn’t unknown or even all that thought about. It used to be more hazardous when cars didn’t have emergency steering override, but now attached proximity alarms could track the movement of other objects around them and intervene if an accident was eminent.

It didn’t mean that krill wasn’t scared out of his mind. This all seemed very dangerous, but Captain Vir insisted to him that the family had been invited to a “Birthday party” at his sister’s house, and it would be rude not to come.

Krill was under the impression it would also be very rude to die, but what did he know?

The car skidded softly on some ice, and the old human grunted wrestling control back from the icy roads as he took a slow controlled turn onto another residential street parking himself behind a long line of cars.

Jeremy and the second David pulled up behind them, and they all got out of the car, the dog taking the lead to the correct door.

Captain Vir Held Krill’s specimen tube under one arm and a sparkly silver bag in the other hand.

“Prepare for mayhem, it’s going to be loud.”

Stomping the snow from their boots, the humans made their way up the steps and knocked on the door asking to be let in.

The door opened with a blast of noise not dissimilar to military grade decibel weapons. All of the humans, accept for the alpha female, cringed. Krill became very grateful for the control he had over his sensory systems.

Stepping inside was pandemonium. There were at least ten adults sitting at the distant table playing a game of cards, and there were about as many tiny humans. They ran around screaming and chasing each other with boundless energy. Their unsuppressed predatory play made Krill feel very uneasy.

He had never met a human child. He had seen them once or twice sure, but he had never interacted with one directly.

As soon as they walked in one of the human females rose from her seat and walked slowly over. She was relatively thin, aside from the massive bulge at her stomach which she kept protective hand over. Captain Vir walked closer and put an arm around her. She hugged him back before pulling away and frowning at his eyepatch, “What did you do to yourself, Adam.”

Captain Vir gave a sheepish grin, “I uh accidentally lobotomized myself.”

She frowned at him, but before she could say anything they were surrounded by a mass group of children chattering and pointing at Krill inside his test tube. One of the little humans let of a shrill scream and scampered towards his mother hiding behind her legs.

“Eww, what is it?” One of the tiny humans asked stepping back eyes wide with fear.

The rest of the human children huddled behind that first child nodding with large eyes.

All accept for one of the tiny humans. She was blonde, hair pulled back into two little tufts of hair on either side of her head. The puffy little outfit she wore was somewhere in the red spectrum though Krill couldn’t tell exactly what color. He had a suspicion it was the hue that humans called pink.

She wore a paper crown and held a sparkly stick with a star at one end.

She was the only one brave enough to come up to his containment unit eyes wide with curiosity instead of fear.

She looked up at Captain Vir, “Uncle Adam, is he your pet?”

Vir laughed and knelt to look at the little girl, “No this is my friend.”

The containment unit hissed open.

A few of the children screamed and ran towards their parents hiding behind older adult legs.

The little girl held her ground, “Oh, HI what’s your name!”

She was loud, and absolutely horrifying. He scooted himself behind captain Vir’s legs and away from the tiny predator and he sharp little teeth. The tiny human frowned and circled around towards Krill, “Hey, its ok, I’m not mean.”

Krill looked up at captain Vir who stood grinning down at him, “Come on, and introduce yourself to my niece.”

Krill did so hesitantly, “Hello…. Human larvae, I am Krill.”

The little girl giggled, “My name isn’t Larvae, its Kimber, and you can be my friend.” She announced clearly pleased with herself reaching out to grab one of Krill’s arms before he could stop her.

He nearly keeled over and died. Terrified that she was going to bring him back to her lair and eat him.

“Kimber,” Captain Vir warned, “Be easy.”

“Ok.” Her grip loosened, but she still tugged Krill along after her. He went almost too petrified to think as the group of tiny predators parted around her. Some curious some scared.

The next few hours were some of the most terrifying, and interesting, moments of his life, the tiny human female seemed to have claimed Krill as her property demonstrating this action by placing one of the colorful party hats on his head. She claimed the dog in the same way insisting that both of them participate in her “Tea party” where they were made to participating in ritual of drinking imaginary tea and making Smalltalk. Not that Krill had to do much talking, the tiny human had a lot to say about things that didn’t seem to exist.

He wondered if the human grub was sick.

Was she delusional?

Not only that but he witnessed what happened before humans were tamed. One small human, deciding that he was not getting what he deserved fell to the floor and assailed the adult humans with a sonic attack that rattled the windows.

The older humans winced, but came over to try and tell the small human to stop. In anger, the small human attempted to attack the larger counterpart.

It didn’t work, and the larvae was shut into a room by himself. He continued attempting to use the sonic attack, but the adults just laughed it off. His weaponry had been effectively defeated by the door.

Eventually more of the small creatures became brave enough to approach Krill.

And they asked an incessant amount of questions.

Was he a boy or a girl? Where was he from? What was his favorite color? Were those his eyes? What was that thing for?

Kimber was the first to grow tired of the questions and made her claim on him by announcing that she, and her new best friend were done answering questions. They were going to make friendship bracelets instead.

He watched in confused amazement as the tiny human passed colorful spheres onto a string presently presenting Krill with the gift afterwards. He wasn’t aware that you had to make someone a bracelet to be friends with them, but she seemed to insist that it was necessary to keep their friendship solid. When the bracelet wouldn’t fit on one of his legs she decided that a necklace would work just as well and ordered that he wear it around his neck.

Ok, he didn’t want to anger the tiny predator, so he put on the colorful beads. She seemed pleased.

Afterwards, she grabbed his arm and dragged him with her to the grownups announcing formally that Krill and She were now BFFs.

Catpain Vir grinned at Krill, and at Waffles who had been faithfully following Kimber around in hopes that she would feed her more cheerios left over from the tea party.

The dog was still wearing the colorful party hat.

“An interesting entourage you have there, Princess Kimber.” Captain Vir said

She beamed up at him quite pleased before demanding that, as Princess she should get some cake.

At least the hiatus left Krill with time to relax from some of the stress, of course that was relative come to learn that you could in fact FEEL unborn human larvae moving inside a human mother. That, he thought, sounded exactly like the plotline to one of those human horror films, though none of them seemed to think so instead, insisting that the miracle of birth was beautiful and whatever.

Krill begged to differ, he knew how big a human birth canal was, and it was not, in fact, large enough for a grapefruit….

Apparently it stretches.

Dear Nebulon that was disgusting.

They spent a good few hours there before the humans began trickling away with their offspring. With her friends gone, Kimber cajoled him into a tour of her “Play” room insisting he memorize the names of each and every one of her stuffed animals, because it would be rude for him to incorrectly address them.

During their third “tea party” She formally dubbed Captain Vir the pirate king because of his leg and eyepatch.

By the time it was their turn to leave, She insisted that Krill keep on the bracelet or it would ruin their friendship pact, and that would be unacceptable.

He was scared she would come find him and hunt him down, so he kept silent.

***

Thinks I have learned

Human offspring use sonic attacks to get other humans to do what they want. Sometimes it works depending on the exhaustion level of the adult in question.

To have a good relationship with a human grub, one must make an offering of a friendship bracelet or necklace as a proper introduction.

It is a normal ritual right to drink fake tea with a dog. It may be some sort of primitive indoctrination ceremony.

Though human larvae are more fragile than their older counterparts, they are also more aggressive and would probably kill you if given the chance, be glad they aren’t bigger.

Also important to note that human larvae are spawned in the heart of darkness growing to final maturity in the belly of their mothers, feeding off her body, by way unholy attachment, to feed their own hellish growth at which point they will claw their way from her womb potentially breaking her bones and ripping her open as a result…. They have tricked their human parents into thinking that this as acceptable birthing method.

Ballerinas are terrifying, but the human larva is a creature spawned of blood and darkness.

It is advised to accept all colorful gifts of friendship from these creatures lest they destroy you in your sleep.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #earth is space australia #earth is a deathworld

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rwbyremnants · 6 years ago

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WARNING: A little Weiss/Neon. Rape threat (not carried out), some mild violence, (implied) minor character death.

Whoooooo... so THIS was a big one. Hope you guys enjoy the reunion!

=Chapter 35

"Focus, focus…"

No matter how often Weiss muttered the word to herself as she paced around her dressing room, glancing at her reflection to make sure she still looked pristine, it didn’t quite take. She could hear the thumping bass even this far away from the opening act – Sky Lark, some newly-famous guy whom she didn't particularly care about - and it was making it marginally more difficult to concentrate, to run through her usual pre-show prep in her head.

It mattered so much more tonight, since Neon and Neptune were going to follow her; she had to give the audience something to remember. Convert them all to being her fans, and not just remembering her as "that girl we put up with because she was there". She wasn’t delusional; she knew not all of them would wind up digging her. And that was okay. But if she didn’t go out and give 110%, she would stand no chance of winning them over at all.

But that pre-show meditation was interrupted by a knock at her dressing room door, only to have whoever was there immediately burst in, shutting the door behind them. Thankfully, it wasn't anyone to worry about if they were going to see her undressed.

It was Neon, dressed in the usual raver outfit that Weiss was so used to seeing before she got to know her, along with her signature pony tails and long “tail” hanging from her belt. Today's show she had added a special surprise: roller blades on her feet to incorporate into her dance moves. But she was more concerned about the ever-quiet Weiss who had been MIA for the past week, with no news other than “I'm at Berkeley for a while”. While Neon didn't mind that, she was worried her mood hadn't picked up yet.

Maybe she needed a pep talk. "So, you excited?!"

"H-hey," Weiss sighed with a weary smile. Just looking at Neon looking her best made her pace forward and wrap her arms around her, kissing her softly and enjoying the now-familiar sensation. "Yeah, if you mean 'terrified'. Oh, why did I agree to do this?! There's so many people out there!"

Even though she cuddled her back, she let a smirk pull at her lips. "Yeah, duh. But think about what that means: you're moving up in the world. Means you're amazing."

"No, you." One more kiss, and then she pulled back and ducked her head. "By the way… I'm really sorry about running off the way I did. I should have called you first."

Seemed they were going to talk about this after all. Letting her out of her grasp, she instead held her hands, idly swaying them side to side. "What'cha sorry for? Doesn't matter to me. I just assumed it was family shit or whatever."

"Well…" Weiss came very close to chickening out. After all, Neon didn't care, wasn't pushing. She wouldn't be a bad person for letting the topic drop, especially given how busy they were that day.

But she owed her more than that. "Close enough to family. You know my friend, Ruby?"

"Vaguely?" She tilted her head. The name was very familiar, but it took her a while to realise why. But then she suddenly lit up. "Oh yeah! The girl with the glasses, likes hoodies a lot, right?"

"Right, right," she laughed. "Well… I don't think I ever made it clear, but she's my ex's sister. You know… the, um…" Her voice dropped into a whisper. "The video."

"Which one? 'Changes come' or the sexy…" But as soon as that slipped out her mouth, she began to blush, and also look to one side. "Right, they're both the same girl. Sorry, that was dumb. But yeah, what about it?"

A smirk pulled at Weiss's mouth. "You want a copy of that, don't you?"

"Look, just because I thought your ex was hot doesn't mean I wanna get off while watching her porn. That's kinda… creepy territory for me." Even though she was completely red while saying that entire sentence, she shook her head to try and get herself out of the daze, immediately returning to the topic. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question; what about it? I thought she fucked off and left you."

Then Weiss's smile fell. "Well… she really did almost fuck off… forever."

“What?”

As casually as she could, and trying not to be too specific or make the story longer than needed, Weiss explained what had happened to Yang, from her sister's interference up through the phone call they had accidentally shared in Ruby's dorm room. All the while, it left Neon entirely speechless. At the beginning, she didn't seem to quite grasp what she meant, but as it went on, she grew even more worried and questioning by the minute. For more reasons other than Weiss's story. Piecing things together, Neon had managed to grasp the important factors; Yang was forced away, there was no break up.

Not only that, but the feelings Weiss still had for Yang were probably mirrored in Yang herself. Where Neon had just thought she was dealing with a dumped Weiss on the rebound, it was fast becoming a danger of losing her completely; that Neon really was just a rebound girl to fill the gaping hole in Weiss’s heart for a while. But that was selfish to think at this time, and she quickly shook off such thoughts. Weiss clearly needed her, and she was going to put her own feelings last.

But still, as she leant against Weiss's dressing table, she stared out in awe. "I can't believe your own sister would do that to you… It's just… just-"

"Just disgusting." Shaking her head bitterly, she growled, "And she'd better not come after you next, or she is going to get a real earful. Honestly, who does she think she is?!"

"Oh she'll catch hell from me, too, don't you worry! I get enough shit from Adam, don't think I'll let myself be bullied by her that way." Despite being angry toward Winter, she started to realise what she just said, and backtracked. "I-I mean… I'm not implying Yang’s a coward for leaving, that's not what I meant! Just, like… outing someone as trans is even more damaging than outing someone as gay, I guess, and I wouldn’t let her get away with it. I dunno."

"You're fine," Weiss reassured her with a weak laugh. "But I don't really think I'll be getting much grief from her anymore. I disowned her. She can be judgemental to someone else now."

"Don't blame you. But shit… I'm glad Yang's okay…" She continued to stare out blankly, tapping her fingertips against the wall to try and distract herself.

That brought a louder sigh from Weiss. "I just… can't believe it. I've never had anybody in my life who almost… who even thought about…" Frowning at the girl by her vanity, she said, "I feel like I failed her, Neon. I should have known, I should have figured it out, it's… how stupid am I?"

"Don't even go there, babe," she told her firmly. "How could you know? Winter manipulated you into thinking she had just… just ran away. That's an abuse of trust in your sister, not you messing up."

"You know what's really messed up? She seemed to think that just because she told me, a couple of months later, that somehow that made everything okay! Just because she had a guilty conscience when she found out she almost-" Again, Weiss cut off. Seemed she couldn't directly mention it so easily, even after a few days.

But Neon knew anyway. Pacing away from the wall to stand back by Weiss's side instead, she held the back of her chair. "You're way better off. And Yang's okay… obviously it could have been way worse, so it's a bittersweet ending, right? Sucks it came to this, but at least she’s alive."

Weiss's hand reached over her shoulder to one of Neon's on the back of her chair, holding it tenderly. "You're pretty awesome if you can be glad my ex is okay, with our history and all." Then she looked up at her with an oddly contemplative expression. "I… did think about calling you, asking if you'd go with me… but since the whole thing was about Yang, it seemed weird. Did I make the right decision?"

For a moment, she hesitated. That was the question that was haunting her. If Weiss was being secretive about Yang already, what was it going to be like further on in their relationship? What if she and Yang were to arrange to meet up, start ffresh? She couldn't compete with all that history. Maybe she wanted to fight for her hand, but their relationship was still in its infancy; she barely had a toehold to start from. Her prospects were grim.

Still, not telling Weiss of her worries just yet, she sighed. "I think it would'a made that phone call even weirder if she knew you had a girlfriend, babe."

"Well, the phone call wasn't something planned, but… you're probably right." She turned around in the chair, knees bracing herself up as she touched Neon's neck gently. "Thanks for understanding. I'm so lucky."

Starting to smile lightly, she pressed a small kiss up against Weiss's cheek. Even if Weiss's words meant well, it didn't particularly fill her with much confidence about her worries. The worries that no matter what, she would come in second place to Yang. Even if she didn't show it on the outside.

"Just feel glad it worked out okay, and sorry something so fucked up happened."

But their conversation was interrupted by a knock at Weiss's door, a voice calling up. "Five minutes, Weiss!"

"OKAY!" she yelled back. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Then she turned to Neon and pressed their lips heatedly together, quickly teasing Neon's with the tip of her tongue. There was a slight squeal of joy in the middle of that kiss as she pulled away, finally leaving with a more self-assured grin. Even if she was worried, that didn't stop her flirting – and it quelled some of her fears. At least temporarily.

"Save some for after the show, sweet cheeks. How about a quickie during the intermission?"

"What?! Don't be disgusting!" But Weiss was grinning and blushing. "I prefer to take my time with you. However… we'll see." As she got out of the chair, she gave Neon a quick swat on the backside as she asked, "Is my makeup still okay?"

"Nope. Ruined, start over," she teased. But the giddy grin was enough to give away that she meant the opposite. Finally heading toward the door, she winked back at her. "And I'll get you back for that little swat on stage in the overlap."

"Will you? How are you planning to-" But she cut herself off. The whole insane situation had depleted her of her ability to worry about her future, to give much credence to other people's opinions of her. She still wanted to be respected, but respected for being herself rather than just a statuette of "the perfect good girl."

"You know what? Surprise me." Then she joined Neon at the door and grabbed her ass again - really grabbed it and held on, fingers digging into the flesh. "Go ahead; open it."

Another delighted squeal followed, as her rear was deliberately groped and squeezed, making her turn around and smirk at the 'purer' if the two of them. Barely. "You better be glad you gotta go on in five minutes, otherwise I'd be making sure you can't walk, Schnee."

"Open the door, Katt. Or are you scared they'll notice I have a handful of your booty?"

Glaring right back at her, she started to turn the doorknob, raising one eyebrow as she slowly began to bring it backward to open it, testing both her own and Weiss's bravery at the same time. And the wider open it was getting, the more she smirked. Not that she expected their notions to be viewed.

"Good kitty," Weiss goaded very slightly, still flexing her hand, still teasing. "Nice kitty."

"You… are so getting… a million and one hickeys when today's ove-"

The clearing of someone's throat was enough to stop that dialogue in its tracks. Neon suddenly propelled herself forward, away from the offending hand – and for good reason. Stood before them was the same man that Weiss had encountered the first time she went to Neon's. In fact, the scratch across his face was still there.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Oh…" Recovering from her shock, Weiss's voice dropped into a lower register. "Oh. It's you."

"Aren't you supposed to be on stage?" Adam snapped toward Weiss, barely giving her any attention and immediately looking back to his own star instead, not even waiting for an answer before he asked, "A word? I have a solution that'll benefit us both, in regards to your contract."

"You don't have to talk to him alone," Weiss told Neon without mincing words. "Come backstage with me; you can watch my show until time for you to go on."

"Oh, I think I will. I'm ready to go on, anyway; no need to go back to my dressing room." Neon began to smirk instead, folding her arms. "And I think Adam and I should keep our conversations to public spaces from now on."

"You're making a huge mistake." He lowered his voice, hands clearly balling into fists as he glared at the two of them. "Trust me, a recording contract will be the last thing you need to worry about if you cross me. Just do what I tell you, and we’ll both be rich and happy, and I can quit having to put up with your annoying ass soon enough."

That was far enough; Weiss no longer felt any need to be kind to him. She stepped closer and glared up into his smug face. "Listen to me. You had better let go of the idea that you have any right to control what either of us do, you… thug! Neon might talk to you after the show, and she might not. Don't worry about it for now. But stop threatening her, or I will make your life hell. Do you understand me?"

He only glared straight back at her, not saying another word, moving another muscle. The two stared one another off for what felt like forever, until eventually Neon tugged at Weiss's arm, gesturing down the hallway. "Come on, Weiss. We'd better get going."

"You're right." But as she followed Neon, she glanced over her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at the jerk. She'd had enough of men thinking they could dictate people's lives, were entitled to women's bodies. It was disgusting to her.

"God, that asshole," she went on in a quieter tone once they were out of earshot. "Do you want to come with me afterward and avoid him completely? I'd be happy to wait for you."

"Please."

But as they turned the corner to head to the stage, eavesdropping was the last of their worries. Adam remained still for a moment longer as he glanced around the hallway. No one present, no cameras. Perfect. No one noticed as he walked down the hallway, nor when he entered the girl he was intimidating's dressing room…

This was it. The moment of truth.

Four days of mental preparation and practice had lead them to “the master plan,” as Winter had put it. Ruby and Penny were already there, having watched the few stars at the beginning of the concert before they withdrew at the back end of Sky Lark's act, giving them enough time to meet Yang outside the venue and exchange Penny for her instead. A hug good luck from Blake, Sun, and even Winter later, and she was heading into the crowd with her little sister.

She was dressed in the best way Weiss could notice her; the same outfit she'd bought for her on the first date of the tour. The brown leather jacket, yellow tank top, and black short shorts. The only thing missing was the completing feature, the snood which was in Weiss's possession. And if that wasn't enough, she made sure to carry her guitar on her back, on the off chance she could get backstage and play the same song to her. It was a vague chance, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Not that security was crazy about the guitar, but once they had checked it for anything dangerous they let her through – on warning that she not play it at random. The disturbance would get her thrown out. Ruby whispered that they probably were assuming she wanted to get it signed by one of the acts, which did make more sense than the truth.

Yang allowed Ruby to drag her on through the crowds, back toward their designated seats. And already she could hear the middle of one of Weiss's later hits. That was when she was starting to breathe heavier. Fear was creeping in.

"Don't act so nervous, sis," Ruby urged her, squeezing her hand in support as they got closer to the stage. They truly were incredible seats; Weiss had not skimped in the slightest. "Even if this doesn't work today, we'll have a couple more days to try something!"

"I know, I know! I'm just… What if she doesn't wanna see me? What if it hurts her too much? Oh geeze what a dumb idea this whole thing was!" she squeaked, having to raise her voice the closer they got toward the stage. But by now, it was all coming into view…

The Weiss herself was just leading into a Madonna cover, strutting confidently from one side of the stage to the other and singing her heart out into the mic leading out from her headset. Today's outfit was a knee-length sparkling silver dress with a slit halfway up the thigh and a train of lace leading down from the sash around her waist and fluttering behind her, feather-light. Matching platform sandals and three little silver stars on each cheek completed the look, along with her trademark side-ponytail.

"Oooohhh god she's right there…" In a turn of events, it was Yang who was the one feeling faint now that she realised who she was about to see, and possibly about to talk to. She swore her heart would jump out of her ribcage with how fast it was beating, how much faster and deeper her breathing was becoming. Even as Ruby continued to pull, she felt herself slowing down, quickly reaching her spare hand into her hair and pulling. "I-I can't do this. I'm still… I-I-"

"You're my big, strong, awesome sister, and you're not gonna let the girl you love get away just because… because of some flashy lights!" Ruby could feel her still resisting, so she stomped around behind her and began shoving into the small of her back, hoping to get her the rest of the way.

Biting her lip again, she continued to gaze out as Weiss's song was coming to a close. Between each number, she was taking a moment to talk to the audience, even if it was something as little as telling them it was a great crowd, or that she was happy to bet there. But hearing her voice again spoke volumes to her. The Weiss. Her Weiss… she missed her, missed her voice so much. All she wanted was to hear it at a reasonable volume again, speaking to her as they were cuddled on a sofa, about to fall asleep at night. In the end, that desire was enough to power through her fear.

"Okay." She finally nodded. "Okay!" And as she heard Weiss introducing the next act for their double performance together, a dubsteppy cover of Katy Perry's 'I Kissed a Girl', Yang finally began to walk forward willingly, pulling Ruby along so she could guide them to their seats.

"This was never the way I planned," Weiss began singing, bending slightly at the waist to let her hand trail through the wake of fans and besotted preteens, touching them all very briefly and thereby exciting them to no end. Of course, not all of them were that enthused; some were only there for Neon, or else Neptune at the end of the concert. But they still seemed at least vaguely pleased to be so close to a beautiful, talented woman such as she.

Even if Yang and Ruby weren't to be right at the very front, among them to be touched, it didn't matter. The seats they had gave them a good vantage point. From there, they could easily be spotted from Weiss's eye level, for when she stopped to speak to the crowd again. Neither of them took their seats, only watched as Weiss continued to belt out her notes, and occasionally interact with Neon, who skated across the stage with ease.

Each of them shared half the verse each, teaming up to sing the chorus together. In fact, said chorus also had various planned dance moves together, both mirroring one another. Apart from something that certainly didn't seem like it was a part of the dance at all: in the gap between the chorus and the next verse, when Neon leant right in and pressed a kiss against Weiss's cheek, along with clearly placing her hand on another cheek a little lower to give a firm squeeze of its own. Live in front of everyone. What gall!

And the crowd went crazy, not sure what to expect from the prim and proper diva — but instead of gasping in shock or slapping Neon, she only raised her hand to cover her mouth as if she were a 1950's pinup girl, arching her back to press her rear even more firmly against the errant grope.

"No, I don't even know your name," Neon continued as if it was nothing, casually skating away from Weiss once that action was done, even flicking one of her knees up as if she were a ballerina skating away. Clearly her mischievous nature was showing again, the typical flirty visage of Neon that everyone knew.

But for Yang, it was something that twigged a small nerve of jealousy. Even when it shouldn't. Of course, she had no clue as to Neon and Weiss's situation; Ruby hadn't the heart to tell her in the brief time they had been together, and the others thought it best to keep silent, as well. However, she did turn to Ruby.

"Well damn, they're really going all out for the song, huh?"

"Uhhhhhh yeah," Ruby half-laughed back, scratching her head. "You know Weiss! Always trying her best!"

"It's not what, good girls do," Weiss sang pointedly, winking at the crowd. She knew that was an important line for her to say, given her image when contrasted with this particular performance. "Not how they should behave!"

Then, as Neon went whizzing past her again, she timed it perfectly to flash her hand out and smack her just below the tail.

As Yang continued to watch their performance, the movements and dances seemed to get more and more suggestive. "Just… a bit…" More occasional spanking, more winks and exaggerated swaying of hips, even Weiss being the one to kiss on the cheek on another chance. The two were close. They'd either rehearsed this a lot, or something deeper was going on.

But on the last note, both of them harmonized the last note together, and raised an arm in the air to encourage a loud cheer from the audience. In the midst of that cheer, Neon even chanced one more movement, grasping Weiss's chin and pulling her in for a quick kiss on the lips. Instant, but enough to make the already loud screams even louder. Once that died down however, she gave a quick wink toward one of the cameras, speaking clearly into the mic.

"Well, I liked it."

Again, Weiss affected the exaggerated image of a suburban housewife from seventy years ago as she giggled and let out a "Well, golly!" and began fanning her face with her hand. "Neon, you're supposed to buy a girl dinner first! Oh, that's right… you did!"

"Well, that's the first time I'd consider McDonald’s a date, but whatever floats your boat." And the audience laughed. Of course, on stage she was still in the closet, at least despite the flirting with anyone that moved. As much as the comment was an actual reference to one of their dates, they still needed to keep it hidden from the public. For the sake of both of their reputations, Weiss's father, and Neon's contract.

At least, she thought that was the plan. But Weiss seemed to have something else in mind for the rest of this little interlude.

"Speaking of boats floating," Weiss began, and the crowd calmed very slightly when they realized she had more to say instead of just leading into Neon's next song before she left the stage. "Some people have been asking a lot of questions about me lately. About what kind of boats I like to float. And it's really none of their business, but here's my thing.

"It doesn't matter, does it? However you choose to love, whoever you choose to love. That's all you. And you shouldn't let anybody boss you around, tell you that any love between two consenting adults is 'wrong' or 'offensive', or 'sin.' Even just the little kiss I shared with Neon; some Bible-thumper in the Midwest is going to throw away my album because that happened. One little kiss! So what?"

As most of the crowd cheered wildly for what Weiss was saying, she scanned them… and her eyes alighted on Yang.

And Yang noticed. How could she not? She'd been watching her like a hawk after all, just waiting for that brief moment where she was spotted. It felt like her heart stopped, or that time had slowed in that brief moment as she looked back at her. The time was right to prove it was really her, give her a gesture to show her it had to be. Which came in the form of her slipping the guitar off her back, and instead holding it in front of her instead, like she would play her a song if she could.

"If you ask me, someone like that doesn't deserve your album," Neon joined in, oblivious to what she must have just seen as she stared at the audience instead. "But you guys out there, in our audience today… Whether you're gay, bi, ace, pan – otherkin, or whatever the hell you identify as, don't you let anyone tell you what to do. Because you are you, and if you feel like no one loves you, I can tell you now that we do! We love you for who you are!"

"We really do," Weiss echoed quietly, smiling warmly down at Yang. Her Yang, the beautiful, perfect person that she was — she had made it! Come all this way, just to show that they weren't completely broken forever, that they could see each other again.

And she had the guitar. There was only one thing she wanted to do… one stupid, ridiculous thing, but the moment she thought of it, she knew it had to happen.

"And now, without further delay… I think we have something for you up next that a lot of Snow Bunnies and bloggers will probably be excited about, and I hope Neon will try and join me for the chorus… if she's game?"

"What?" Ruby breathed, squinting up at her. "Bloggers? That's me! But… but I don't know what she's talking about!"

But Yang was drawing the guitar closer toward herself, beginning to grow nervous once again. Not enough to completely run, but the hints Weiss had dropped were enough for her to begin piecing together what Weiss was trying to do, and she knew it would make people recognise her.

"If I'm game for what?" Neon asked with a grin. The audience laughed; but that prompted her to quickly cover the microphone with her hand, mouthing to her. "Seriously, what thing is this? I don’t remember it from rehearsal."

Weiss did Neon the same courtesy, covering her mic to say, "That video from the blog, the acoustic song? All over the news?" Then she glanced down at Yang. "I want to sing it with her. She brought the guitar; it's…" There was some remorse in her eyes when she looked back at Neon. "Are you gonna be okay with it if we do? Like, I want you with me, and the chorus is pretty simple, but if it's too sudden-"

"Yang is here?!" she nearly shouted, struggling to keep the volume low enough for the microphone to pick up.

But when she glanced toward the audience to where Weiss was looking, and only just spotted the messy blonde hair in the audience, she grew quiet, only able to nod. This was everything she feared… and yet, everything Weiss wanted. It would be a crime to ruin that. Maybe her own feelings were in turmoil but if she cockblocked Weiss just because she was jealous, it would make her worse than Adam.

"No yeah, go for it. If I forget a line, I can fake it with like, humming or whatever."

"I'll make it up to you later, with my tongue," she whispered back, clearly still in the mindset that she was with Neon. Not ‘ditching’ her just because her old girlfriend was in the arena. It helped Neon feel way less like an afterthought.

Then Weiss lowered her hand and walked forward a couple more paces, calling out to the audience, "Everybody, we have a special guest, and she needs a little encouragement. Can you give it up for my guitar-playing friend here?" Instantly, the audience grew more deafening, cheering and stamping their feet, clapping tremendously. Even the ones who had no idea what was going on were out of their minds with excitement, merely catching it from their neighbours who had cottoned on.

"OH! Oh my God, she wants you to go up there!" Ruby was squealing, actually jumping up and down like a little girl. "Yang, you have to do it! This is your chance - for them to know how good you can play the guitar AND for you to win Weiss back! It's so perfect, you can’t NOT go!"

"Oh… oh fuck…" Yet again, her heart was beating faster and faster, even more so when one of the lights pivoted in her direction, shining directly onto her as she held the guitar. No doubt now the cameras would be on her, and the four-gathered outside would be hearing everything in the radio. She could hear now the ridiculous voices of Winter and Blake telling her to go in her head.

Swallowing the last of her fear, she took a deep breath. And giving a brief nod to Ruby, she finally moved from her seating area with the guitar in her hand. She didn't just walk, she ran. Ran as fast as she could past the other audience members, past the security. In this case they allowed it, seeing as one of the stars herself invited her up there. The standing was reasonable enough to let her by, some even patting her back and wishing her luck.

"Come on, Yang," Weiss was saying into her microphone, eyes watering. She was really alright. The shock of her suddenly being there, in the last place she expected to see her, had finally worn off enough for her to be overjoyed that she was apparently alive and intact. Hearing it over the phone was enough to help her stop beating herself up every other second, but seeing her in person? She couldn't describe it.

There was a loud, piercing "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!" from where Yang had been sitting, and Weiss winced and spared Ruby a little wave before turning back to where the staff were helping Yang onto the stage, guitar and all. Her heart thudded in her throat. They were really going to do this; going to sing their song in front of God and everyone, and her new girlfriend was even going to join in! Could this be any more perfect?

But just as she was lifted up, and when Yang's hand was inches away from Weiss's as she was about to help her onto the stage… everything took a horrifying turn.

There was a deafening boom. One that came from two different directions: behind them, in the general area of the dressing rooms off the stage; and more worryingly, above. One of the fireworks holsters had exploded incorrectly, causing huge damage to the lighting rig above them both, and completely destroyed its secure anchors to the ceiling above.

Thankfully when it fell, it narrowly missed the diva who was leaning out to try and pull Yang up. It had decimated the stage, destroyed the trap door in the middle that Neptune was going to use for his big entrance, and caused panic among the crowds. The security staff had dropped Yang back to the ground as they went to do their bit instead, guide everyone to safely.

"SHIT!" Weiss let out, hearing her voice echo over the entire stadium. How had all of that insanity and destruction not cut the feed from her microphone? "Everyone, please, just- just remain calm and exit the building!" She didn't know how she knew exactly what to say, but it sounded correct. "Follow the authorities!"

Then she looked wildly around for Neon and Yang; neither were in sight. Glancing down into the crowd, she saw Ruby's red hoodie was already moving far off toward the nearest exit. That was good, she was safe. Now… where should she go?!

"WEISS!"

There was the panicked call of Yang below, who seemed to be attempting to jump at the stage despite the obvious fact she wouldn't be able to get up on her own. She needed to get up there, fast. That was her job, right? Looking around frantically for a moment, she spotted one of the camera towers at the side of the stage. It wasn't the most stable of things, but given the situation, it would do. Just before she sprinted toward it, she dropped the guitar to the ground, and shouted as loud as she could.

"Stay there! I'm coming up!!!"

With all the sparks showering outward from the fallen lighting rig, Weiss wasn't inclined to argue; she wasn't sure which way to go to escape the worst of it, and didn't want to try to run only to find herself scarred and burning. "O-okay!" she called back in a shaky, shrill voice — still broadcast all over the place. "I'm right here, waiting!"

Sprinting as fast as she could toward the camera rig, Yang leapt up onto it, attempting to shimmy herself up the scaffolding as best as she possibly could, despite how much she could feel it tilt and rock. She had no time to worry about that, not when Weiss was in danger. She lost her once, and wasn't about to do it again.

Not knowing what powered her, once she was high enough, she managed to launch herself toward the stage, able to hear the camera collapsing in her wake. That was an exit route gone. But still, she quickly ran toward Weiss as fast as she could, immediately putting herself between the principal and any incoming sparks. It was part of her job previously, of course, but she knew she had to protect Weiss, protect her from anything. Even if she wasn’t technically employed by the Schnees anymore.

"Where's Neon?!"

Startled out of her gratitude that Yang was standing in front of her again, she lowered the hand that had been raising to touch her, to somehow reconnect. "I… I don't know, I didn't see her fall over the side! She must be backstage!" When she heard her own voice echoing, she angrily ripped off the headset and threw it out into the seats. "ENOUGH! I can’t think with that thing on!"

"Shit… Okay, that might be our exit, we gotta get there." But how was another question. Half of the stage was partitioned off with the huge lighting rig in the middle of it, which even though it appeared stable at the moment, didn't seem like a fun option to climb through. But they had no choice.

Grasping Weiss's wrist, she said “Follow me!” as she headed to the side away from any fireworks. Managing to lift one of the lights up out the way to create a path for her, she grunted, "You… First…!"

Heart pounding in her throat for about a thousand reasons, Weiss obeyed, ducking underneath what her ex-bodyguard had lifted and trying not to argue even though she was terrified of what might happen next. Why had this happened? Was it merely a technical failure, or was someone out to get her? Or get Neon? It might even have been Winter, given how horrible she had been of late. But she tried not to concentrate on that as she found the path offstage and followed it.

But just in her range of hearing, there was a loud scream from someone she had come to know oh so well over the past few weeks. Just to the side of the doorways to backstage, Neon was trying to shuffle herself away and out from some of the cables she'd managed to get herself tangled in. And trying in turn to shuffle away from the haunting man above her, the very same who had interrogated her earlier.

"What did I tell you?!" Adam shouted. "I told you I'd make you pay! None of this had to happen, and it's now all your fault! How do you feel now, miss high-and-mighty?!"

"No…" Her hands were frantically scrabbling at the cables, trying to free herself. “Y-you stay back! I’m sorry, okay? I’ll… just don’t do anything crazy!”

Weiss raised a hand to cover her mouth as she watched Neon retreating from her intimidator, and she felt her pulse quicken. This was terrible. The man was at least six feet tall, and would squash her like a grape if he was given half a chance. And she knew what she had to do.

"You get away from her, you fucking JERK!" she shouted, picking up the nearest thing she could reach — a folding chair, as it turned out — and hurling it in Adam's direction.

By the time he'd turned to face her and see what she was doing, the chair was striking him right across the face, impacting hard enough that when he fell to the ground, he didn't get back up. Only remained there as he lowly groaned out. It was totally a lucky shot, but Weiss knew it was only because he was so completely focused on Neon. In a fair fight, neither of them would stand a chance against a guy like that.

Maybe that should change. ‘Self defense classes,’ she told herself firmly. ‘Gotta sign up for those. Soon.’

But by then, Yang had managed to shift her way through, rejoining Weiss again. That was until she noticed Neon still down on the ground, tangled up in the wires. Pulling Weiss to come with her, the two ran as quickly as possible to her side, and tried to get her untangled.

But when Yang touched Neon's foot, she immediately winced. "My ankle… I think I twisted it, really really badly…"

"You get her out of here," she told Yang bravely, eyes full of fear for her costar and girlfriend, whose shoulder she touched affectionately. "I'll go see if Neptune and everybody else is clear and then I'll join you."

Nodding, she leant down and took Neon into her arms, lifting her easily and starting to pace toward the exits. But before she ran at full speed, she turned back for a moment longer, just enough time to shout out, "I'll be right back!"

But as Yang fled from backstage, avoiding the destroyed dressing rooms and heading straight to the fire exits, the groaning of Adam had only gotten louder. To Weiss's terror, he had started to fetch himself to his feet, slowly bringing his knees up as he pushed up to stand. A bloody nose seemed to be the only damage, along with the odd sway as he walked toward her.

"Weeks of meticulous planning," he growled out, wiping away some of the blood as best she could. "Weeks! And paying off security not to check bags, sneaking around and planting the explosives! And I'm not about to let some bible-fucking dyke ruin this for me!"

"Well, too bad – you already failed, you reject!" she snapped at him as she darted to and fro, trying to see if anybody else was back there. Every room seemed to be empty. At the last second, she ran into her own and grabbed her snood, tugging it over her head. That was probably a horrible use of her time, but she absolutely refused to leave it behind. Not ever.

But as she made her way back toward the stage, Adam was continuing to limp toward her, continuing to laugh to himself. "You know… This works out better." He grinned, and it was not the grin of a sane man. "Now the tragic accident that's taken the life of the darling Weiss is gonna be something Neon has caused. I wonder how she'll react to that… that's way better than letting her off with just dying. She can suffer first this way!"

But Weiss was already laughing at him. Hands on her hips, she walked right up to him and glared upward, face set and eyes steely. "Really? You're going to kill me just because I'm more important to her than you are? So pathetic! You are literally the most pathetic waste of space I've ever known if you can't handle life without Neon - whom you abused repeatedly, you- you complete jerk! I just don't understand why you can't let it go!"

"Shut your little MOUTH!"

He exaggerated such a word as he swung his hand around at full force, backhanding the side of her cheek as powerfully as he could. It was far more than enough force to have her on the ground, where he paced around menacingly.

"O-ohhhh…" She was a bit dazed from having the stuffing knocked out of her, so she didn't have much of an ability to respond. But she knew she wouldn't have to; in seconds, her knight in shining armour was going to swoop in and save her from the raging dragon. That she hadn't got there in time to stop him from landing a single blow was of no consequence to her; she would take a thousand slaps to the face if it meant being reunited with her. She had to have faith.

"Maybe you wanna take her place, huh?! Maybe I should take you back into the dressing room, instead! Is that what you want, you stupid little slut? God, all you starlets are all the same – you want to be sluts, but want to be treated with respect, and you don’t seem to fucking understand those two things don’t fucking go together! Why are you all so stupid?!"

But as he began to rant and rave at her, the bodyguard had returned. Hands empty, only curled into tight fists as she moved forward as quietly as she could. Cold fury burned in her eyes. Weiss had never seen her in such a state ever before. And an almost bloodthirsty smile crept onto her own face when she realised what would happen next.

"J-just try it!" she screamed up at him, desperate to keep his attention fixated on her just long enough for Yang to close that distance. "You filthy pervert, just you try and touch me! You'll be sorry!"

"You want me to try?! Because I will, darling! I'll screw the gay out of y-"

Before he could continue the disturbing monologue, or take another step closer, Yang managed to suddenly pick him up by his hips. Similar to the very first action she did to Weiss when they first ever met. Only this time, she didn’t bother resting him on her shoulder, or to restrain him; frankly Yang no longer cared what happened to the human scum. She threw him hard toward the open trap doors leading to the area beneath the stage, watching as he bounced on the floor once, before a panicked scream followed while he fell down.

And though Weiss was not at all sad to see him go, she did notice something fall from his open hand as he plummeted. Something glinting and metallic, with glowing buttons on it.

"Yang, we have to go!" she shouted as she scrabbled at the floor with her platform heels; they weren't exactly made for running but there wasn't time to take them off. "NOW!"

Everything in the next few seconds happened in what seemed like slow motion.

All Adam could do was watch as the small glowing device was landing elsewhere, and then look at the multiple rigged fireworks cases he'd set up under the stage. Even though he was in extreme pain, and no condition to move, he spared two words:

"Oh fuck."

But for Yang, she'd just managed to catch a glimpse of the metal as it fell to the ground. There was just enough time to either save herself, or do her job as Weiss's bodyguard. And it was no contest. Dashing forward, she managed to grab Weiss into her grip, pull her into her body as tightly as possible, arcing her back in an attempt to shield her with her own body as she stood with her back to the doors.

That turned out to be the right choice. There was a louder, even more deafening boom than the first that originated from below and the centre of the stage, sending the two girls flying. The entire time, Yang didn't let go. Even with all the shrapnel in the air that ripped her clothes and cut her skin, even as they were thrown against one of the on-stage camera rigs, her head and arm colliding with it incredibly hard. All that while, she shielded Weiss from the worst of it. Needing to save her, even if the cost was her own life.

Definitely the most shocking finale to a Beach Fest anyone had ever seen.

#White Noise #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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eurusholmmes · 7 years ago

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My Rant - Why TWD continues to be a disappointment!

So, I told you guys I was coming to rant, and for those of you who do genuinely still enjoy this show.. this is going to get lengthy and negative, so I’d steer clear. Once I really get into the nitty gritty I will put it under the cut!

Yesterdays episode, Dead or Alive, was one I have been looking forward to since finding out that Carol and Daryl reunited and Judith happened to be included in it! That’s about.. Eh, two weeks? See, little delusional me over here was under the impression that there would be an actual conversation, much like one of my favorite times Carol and Daryl come back together. Maybe some tender touch to make sure the other was alright. Because, you know..

These idiots clearly care about one another!

Man, I was wrong.

I was already rather irritated that I had to pause the episode to begin with, so I did watch it with a very negative attitude. But with how the writing has turned so sloppy - With the same recurring arcs just set into different characters, really no character development, my brain has changed gears and began picking out what was wrong with this show.. moreso when Season 8 aired.

There were several things about this episode that I did like, and alot I didn’t. It’ll all lead back into my pain point.

Pros

- I have had a really difficult time appreciating Daryl as a character this season, because I have been writing him as a father figure for three years.. and that is how I continue to see him. I was really appalled at how drastic of a change he took in Mercy, but what really set me off was when he shot a child, who also happened to be a Savior, because he was associated with them.

- CNT: This episode seemed like the old Daryl. The one who stepped up to lead when Rick disappeared, became Rick’s right hand man throughout Seasons 2-5. It was something I rather enjoyed, and to see that again after so long was refreshing.

- I also thoroughly enjoy the fact that we get to see him with Judith. I mean, the man was there when she was born.. He was the one who gave her the nickname, and I’m sure at some point that baby will be calling him Uncle Daryl. We went 5 seasons with absolutely no contact up until Honor. and it made my heart melt.

- I also REALLY was on board with Doctor Carson and Gabriel! That duo was much more interesting then I gave him credit for.. and then they killed him right in front of Gabriel only to take him back to the Saviors.

Cons

- I really don’t have to elaborate on this other then saying it like so.. I HATE THE SAVIORS, AND I HATE NEGAN. There is way too much focus on them, and there shouldn’t be! That is not who people want to see!

- This caught my attention faster then anything else did. You know that beautiful shot of Carol, where it’s only her.. and in the background you can clearly see Maggie staring at her?! Like.. when was the last time these two talked on screen?! Oh, that’s right.

The Same Boat.

- Sorry, but Enid was definitely not the reaction that the greater majority of this fandom wanted to see grieving Carl. While I do enjoy her and Katelyn Nacon both, I was much more interested in seeing Carol or Maggie or Daryl grieve the loss of a boy who literally grew up right in front of them. But yet they focus on a teenage girl who Carl barely knew for what.. 2 years? Less? And they had almost 0 screentime together in Seasons 6-8??

WHAT???

- PERTAINS TO HONOR: I’m still completely baffled at the fact that Rick Grimes defied his sons dying freaking wishes because he’s adamant that he be the one to slaughter Negan. Please, go ahead and tell me I’m wrong.

IF ANYONE SHOULD GET TO MURDER NEGAN,

IT SHOULD BE THE WOMEN.

- I still hate Eugene. I can’t stress that enough either. His character has been completely pointless from the get-go and honestly, I really really want him and Gregory to be the ones who die this season.

So anyways, Pros and Cons. Good and bad. There have been several good things to come out of this season, like Jerry and King Ezekiel. They are two of my favorite recurring characters.

For more info as to why, see below:

That entire episode is fantastic, because it actually shows something that we haven’t really gotten recently - character development! We saw a significant change in Ezekiel through the loss of Shiva, and we firsthandedly experienced Jerry’s unwavering loyalty to his Majesty.

Why is The Walking Dead a disappointment? Because it just keeps going in circles. There is no advancement to the plot. They keep knocking our characters down by taking away the ones who keep them going. They keep the remaining ones apart and essentially give them no contact with one another, which deteriorates their relationships they have formed. The All Out War storyline has done nothing but piss people off and take out half the fan-base by killing Carl Grimes.

And yes, in regards to deteriorating relationships, I’m talking about Caryl.

BEFORE YOU START SCREAMING, HEAR ME OUT

These two, both actor and actress, and characters.. are dearly beloved by alot of people. They have fantastic chemistry, and there is a deeper intimacy to their relationship that isn’t seen through most of the other couples. Daryl cares about Carol in a deep, tender way. If I didn’t know any better, I would say she is his world.

Scott Gimple knows how much we love this pair, so why not dangle the carrot in front of the horse?

Give us Mcreedus photoshoots. New Caryl content, promises of screentime.. Only to end up being a complete and utter disappointment. Alot of us thought that Carol and Daryl would finally tell each other how they feel this season, and it still has yet to happen. I am convinced that it will remain this way until Angela Kang (please correct me if I’m wrong) takes over as head writer.

The last time these two had a proper, in depth conversation was in New Best Friends. Canonically.. how far is that from where we currently are? Several weeks?

In order to further what they already have, you give the two of them interaction. Have them talk about Daryls torture with her, because we all know she would be the only one he’d tell it to. Have Carol finally get over the guilt of the Grove. Heart-to-heart conversations about their ghosts. Tender touches and wide smiles and heart eyes from across the room. The others taking notice of how they look at each other, how Daryl acts differently when it comes to Carol and her well-being.

We keep our hopes high for a show many of us used to love. Fact of the matter is, AMC simply doesn’t care what we want. It’s about making money. It’s not about utilizing the mass amounts of talent they have through phenomenal actors like Andrew Lincoln, Lennie James, Chandler Riggs, Steven Yeun.. and actresses like Danai Gurira, Mel McBride, Lauren Cohan..

To them it’s not about telling the story of these characters we love so deeply. Of these people who have endured Hell with one another, who have forged a love for their family that is so deeply rooted, it is the only thing that keeps some of them alive.

The thought of having something/someone to wake up to. Someone to die for.

No. To them its about the ratings.. which are already at a record low, and making more buck. It’s about the materialistic perspective, because what are we to them?

No one. And that, quite frankly, is sad.

#The Walking Dead #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #Caryl #Carl Grimes #trying to keep this as hate free as possible was seriously hard lol #TWD spoilers #The Walking Dead Spoilers #ooooooo i'm so salty

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qboo78 · 7 years ago

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JONSA IS ENDGAME

I just read a post that say if a meta is ended with this sentence, it diminishes the meta and makes it less credible. But I have to say that is pure rubbish. A good meta of a pairing is a good meta even when the end sentence declares a couple an endgame. Especially if the meta was presented with reasons/proof and are very well thought out. And I am not even talking about my own meta because even I myself will admit I am not very good at it. I’m talking about all those wonderful metas that I have read in the #jonsa tag and how I have realized that a lot of people love the Jonsa pairing because they have proof/basis and not because of “reasons”. And if one is still very adamant about the position of this sentence, then, fine, I will start my post with this sentence and not put it in the end. Also, posting a meta and declaring yourself not a shipper does not automatically make your post credible, it just make you not a shipper, that is all. For your post to really be credible then you have to present us with a basis for why you end up with your own conclusion and the more well presented it is the more your theories or meta becomes believable and would make people not necessarily agree with it but at least can say to you “you have a point there”

And saying “Jonsa is Endgame” is not a slogan my dear. It is a declaration of what that meta is all about. So if you have a problem with its position at the end of a meta then I actually don’t understand why you care to read that meta in the first place since that was the point of the meta you were reading in the first place.

Honestly, Fans just being “delusional” does not really bother them because that is what shipping is all about. They just like the couple that they like and that is the end of it. They will forever go down with that ship you know.

Saying Season 6 doesn’t count and declare that Jonsa will never happen is akin to a Jonsa fan saying Season 7 doesn’t count and that J*nerys will never happen. It is another rubbish sentence because if we start discounting what happens in canon then everything pretty much can be discounted including the “not so epic” boatsex. And yes it was NOT EPIC. I asked my sister-in-law before I watched that episode since I know she is such a huge fan of Jon and D*ny pairing and here is our conversation:

“Sister-in-Law: They did the boat bang.

Me: So was it romantic as you’ve hoped?

Sister-in-Law: Jon was fast. He could have waited. The romance is gone.

Me: Oh. Is the boat scene as romantic as Robb/Talisa, Jon/Ygritte scene?

Sister-in-Law: To be brutally honest…NO.

Me: Really? Does that mean my pairing still have a chance to happen?

Sister-in-Law: The scene was so quick. (Then she even gave a very sad looking and crying emoji)

Me: You mean it was not even as long as Missandei and Greyworm love scene???

Sister-in-Law: It was quick.

Me: Yay! Ok i will watch the episode then I will let you know the jonsa fandom theory about the boatsex. I want to confirm if I agree with the theory first”

That is what a huge fan of Jon and D*ny pairing can say about her most awaited pairing coming together. In other words, she was not happy.

And when I watched the episode I can understand why:

That is not how Kit does his leading man looks AT ALL. This is not EPIC. This was according to my sister-in-law a DISAPPOINTMENT.

But, never mind, the Jon and D*any pairing is now CANON. But it is filled with foreboding and dread. Not my cup of tea at all.

Now let’s move on to the purpose of this post:

JONSA is ENDGAME.

To be honest, personally, I blame the show - the directors, the actors, the writer’s D&D and George RR Martin.

Before Season 6, I have never even thought of Jon and Sansa together as a couple. All I wanted for these characters and all the Starks while we’re at it, is for them to be safe, alive, together and finally have justice for what’s been done for their family and their house. I want them to survive the Long Night and I want them all back in Winterfell were they belong. Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon and Jon to be exact.

I know a good story will become great when there is a very good plot twist done right. It happened with all the best stories out there. The most recent of which that I enjoyed are the Harry Potter story and the Hunger Games story. And with TV shows, it happened with my favorite show The 100. So, I know that one can actually expect a plot twist if a writer is any good. But GOT is different for me since the author George RR Martin is to put it simply THE KING OF PLOT TWISTS. It’s one of the reasons why this show/story is so popular and addictive. And inspires so many theories and metas.

A plot twist that the fans have all been waiting for was the R+L=J theory. This theory pretty much I’ve already believed in since I started watching the show in Season 1. I did not have any theories of the the possible effect/outcome for when this plot twist will come into play but I do know that Jon NOT being NED’s son is going to be important. I just don’t have any idea what the possibilities are.

Then, Season 6 happened, suddenly I am reminded of the feeling that I got when Harry started liking Ginny and Peeta no longer himself and no longer loving Katniss with Katniss having such a huge reaction to Peeta dying in front of her. I had hoped that Harry and Hermione will not be endgame because I like Hermione and Ron together and I had always hoped that Katniss will love Peeta but I was not so sure that it will happened since Katniss has a history with Gale. So I never thought I will witness the pairing that I liked come to pass.

With GOT though, I did not have much illusions since we were bombarded left right and centre with horrifying weddings and people loving each other and then dying, so I stuck with just hoping for my faves to be alive.

Then, the show gave us the best thing in this series:

And, I was like, Woah! this reunion was EPIC. I mean it had emotions, unexpected yet hoped for by fans factor, it had sweeping music and the acting was so ON POINT. Like you know something has changed. This scene was a GAME CHANGER for the show and the story, for both the characters and for us the audience. And honestly, I never expected them to be reunited first, much less it will be this EPIC.

So, I was suspicious at first, I was like Nah! it can’t be - remember I already believed in the R+L=J theory so I already looked at them as cousins. So I restrained myself even though I so much want to be in this ship like right then. I love to ship lol.

Then the show keep on giving me these scenes filled with SMILING JON AND SANSA

After seeing these two characters season after season in misery and pain, seeing them happy and being themselves when they are around each other gives me LIFE dangit! And I can only take so much, but I thought i have to be strong… But the show never let up on me, there are these scenes where they argue, bicker, banter and talk things out that basically scream #married

there are the declaration of protection, giving the other the kill, saving each other

then a very tender moment that is so very rare for Jon but seems to be his normal state when it comes to Sansa

And these are just season 6 you know??? Can you ever blame me that I caved but once I caved, I did so willingly and even with the knowledge that it can end in heartbreak if I ship them. Season 6 was just that EPIC. And they end the season with the two of them sitting/standing side by side as the northern Lords declare Jon the King in the North. Just EPIC.

So, i thought, that was it. It was enough my ship was wonderful and I enjoyed every second of when they are together. I thought season 7 will be different. The show will focus now on Jon and D*ny and I have to accept that. I am still gonna be a happy camper because of Season 6.

Unfortunately, or in my opinion, to my utmost happiness, the show did not allow me to forget this pairing at all… No, NO. In fact, they made it worse for me…

Bonus:

Then they gave me feral Jon

And all these scenes have nothing to do with Jon’s mission to fight the WW but everything to do with a certain kissed by fire Lady of Winterfell named Sansa.

then the bittersweet goodbye they had

Is it any wonder why we jonsa fans are hooked? Now and Always.

Because the show made it so difficult for us not to ship them.

Personally, I would have conceded that my pairing was not the endgame if Kit had given me a bit of these looks and smiles with his scenes with D*ny

If Kit would have at least given a smile on that boatbang scene i might be doubtful. But there were none of these leading man smiles and gazes from Kit.

What we saw in S7 with the Jon and D*ny scenes were Kit in misery and a lot of rolling of the eyes lol.

So, NO. THE SENTENCE at the top still is valid to me because I still have not seen anything to show me otherwise.

And yes. Jonsa is endgame.

Bonus:

They look beautiful and MAJESTIC.

Indeed, they are. The King and Queen in the North

Season 8 is THE TIME FOR WOLVES. And JON and SANSA are leading the pack.

gifs credit to: @tiny-little-bird, @jonsasnow, @dailyjonsa, @grahamewill, @whitewolfofwinterfell, @thelawyerthatwaspromised, @jonsnownoshow

if there is anyone i forgot to credit for the gifs let me know so I can include in the post.

#jonsa #actually jonsa #jonsa meta #jon and sansa #jon and sansa meta #jonsa is endgame #jonsa is coming #jonsa is here

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oneshotsalligot · 7 years ago

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The Call

Hey everyone, this is my first ever requested prompt. I didn’t include Erin because, while I lover her, she isn’t going to be in the show anymore so I thought it best to leave her out. I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: “Intelligence gets called for a hostage situation in the ED, but Will gets badly injured and Jay is worried AF while he doesn't want to admit it :p Some good old fashioned angst would be cool. Make someone die if you feel up to it. Enjoy! :)” - @monicaaaaatje

Word Count: 2063

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Chicago PD/Med characters but I definitely enjoying writing for them ;)

There was never a normal day in the intelligence unit, unlike a typical 9-5 office job Jay couldn't count on anything being 'normal.' That being said, he never expected to get The Call. You know, The Call. In movies or tv shows it the one that sets everything in motion by tearing someone's world apart.

The phone rang and Voight picked it up from his office and he was on his feet and grabbing his jacket before the unit knew anything.

"Let's go, gear up we have a hostage situation." He said.

"Where?" Atwater asked while everyone followed suit and put jackets on their backs and guns on their hips.

He hesitated and looked at Jay before responding. "Chicago med." he waited for Jay to process.

After years in the service and on the force it took a lot to shake Jay. He'd seen some truly gut wrenching things, but imagining his brother and friends at the hospital being trapped and possibly hurt, or worse, made his stomach turn. But in true Halstead fashion he kept his composure on the outside.

"What do we know?" He asked. All eyes were on him.

"Nothing yet. Just that there's someone with a gun in the ED." Voight explained. "Let's go," he added noticing everyone waiting for one of them to make a move.

Upon arrival all anyone could see in any direction was flashing lights. Police cars, police vans, ambulances, you name it.

Jay was coming out of his skin. He'd kept fairly calm but now, being here, he was starting to fall apart.

"Who's in charge?" Voight found the main command tent they had set up.

"I am, Sergeant." Jay tuned out at his name and rank knowing Voight would be in control within a few minutes.

"What's going on? Any contact yet?" He pulled at his vest in front of him, a habit he'd picked up.

"Two phone calls one from us to them, one from them to us. We know there are 6 patients, 3 doctors and 4 nurses inside, all the people from the waiting room were able to get out. One doctor has been shot, we are unaware who or how bad." Jay's head went fuzzy for a minute. Like someone turned his brain to 11 and he couldn't handle it. White noise sloshed around his head from ear to ear and back again before Olinski's voice pulled him back.

"Halstead, Jay!" He yelled.

"I have to go in," he started pushing by everyone.

"Jay! Absolutely not," Voight grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"That's my brother in there! You want me to sit and do nothing?!" He yelled finally snapping. Voight wasn't upset, he'd expected it, hell he'd bet it would have happened sooner.

"No, I expect you to sit your ass down while we figure out what the hell's going on." He guided him back to the tent. He didn't sit. He paced. He waited for 15 excruciating minutes while everyone around him ran in circles and did next to nothing.

In those 15 minutes they had learned the man inside waving a gun around called himself Trent. Trent Williamson. After doing some digging the unit found out his wife died in the hospital 5 months ago. She had a brain tumor and refused chemo because it was already in its later stages.

"Ruzek you're going in," Voight said.

"Sarg, just le-"

"No Halstead. Take a back seat on this one." Hank interrupted the young detective.

Jay had no intention of listening. Adam took off his holster and set his gun next to it, he then unstrapped his ankle gun placed it in a line next to his 9mm.

"You ready?" Voight asked him. He nodded and they all watched as he walked past the police line with his hands in the air. Jay inched his way closer and closer to the barricades and was about to sprint in front of them when a hand caught the back of his vest.

"Don't do it. You're just going to get yourself or your someone else killed." Alvin said quietly. Jay took a deep breath and let Alvin drag him back.

"Ruzek has a microphone in his pocket, we're gonna be able to hear everything okay, I want snipers ready! Nobody takes a shot unless I give the go ahead, go it?" Voight was handing out orders left and right but Jay was just focused on hearing his brother's voice come through the speaker.

"Come on. Come on Will. Talk to me. Please." He wasn't sure if he was saying it out loud or not but he didn't care.

"Hello Mr. Williamson, can I call you Trent?" There was no shakiness in Adam's voice, he was rock solid.

"Yeah- whatever!" There was a man who was not rock solid. He sounded as unstable as they come. "Did they tell you what I want?" He hissed.

"They did, they said you wanted to see your wife."

"Her name is Anna!"

"Right, Anna, they said you wanted to see Anna. While they work on that do you think I could send these people back outside? You have me in here now, you don't need them."

"No! No! They stay! I'm not an idiot!"

"Of course not, but if you know how these things work you know I have to send somebody out there. They need some good faith from you?"

He waited to answer. They heard shuffling.

"She can leave."

"Okay, Natalie can you walk?" Adam asked.

"No," they heard a muffled voice coming from her.

"Trent, could one of them push her out on a gurney? You still have plenty of hostages here."

"Just go! Quickly!" He ushered. Then nothing. The mic quit responding and the unit was left standing in a circle wondering what the hell just happened.

"COMING OUT!" Somebody yelled. Across the barricades they saw a patient pushing Natalie out in a wheelchair. Blood was pouring out of Natalie's thigh and her entire pant leg looked sopping wet with the deep red substance.

Once they were across the line everyone swarmed the two of them. Natalie was out in an ambulance and shipped off before Jay could ask her anything but the man, the one that pushed her out was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Jay pushed through and interrupted what ever question he was answering.

"Tall redhead, doctor, you see him in there? Is he okay?"

"Uh, yeah," the guy sounded terrified. "He was trying to help the lady doctor. The one who got shot. He kept telling the guy to keep him and let everyone else go." He said shakily.

"God dammit," Jay mumbled. "But he was alright?"

"Yeah but I was real afraid he was gonna go hero. He was itching to tackle the guy."

"No no no," Jay had heard all he needed to.

"Hank please, you have to let me go in there. He's gonna get himself killed." He begged.

"Adam is in there, talking him down. You know how delicate this is. You need to back off before I have you removed." Voight warned. Not 10 seconds later a shot could be heard from in the hospital.

"NOBODY MOVE YET!" Voight screamed from the front of the barricades. They waited. They waited. They waited some more. Jay thought he was going to pass out. He kept picturing his brother bleeding out and screaming for help.

Finally the hospital doors flung open and people ran out. Jay pushed past the front lines and ran towards the door, the line of people stopped and his brother was yet to be seen.

He ran inside the hospital and saw Adam cuffing who he assumed to be Trent and Will sitting, propped up against a wall next to them holding his shoulder.

Officers started filling in around them but Jay made a B line to his little brother and squatted in front of him. Will looked up at him and seemed fairly unfazed by the bullet hole in his arm. He was no doubt in shock.

"What happened? Are you okay? What the fuck!?" The questions flew out of Jay's mouth.

"I got shot," Will winced.

"How?!" Jay wasn't sure how to process.

"Just relax. It's just a scratch, I'll be fine." Will waved him off and tried to stand up. It resulted in him going pale and then sliding back down the wall with Jay guiding him so that he didn't just crash.

"Can I get some fucking help over here!" Jay turned and screamed.

Immediately Will was lifted up and set on a gurney and Dawson and Brett wheeled him out.

"Is he going to be okay?" Jay asked trailing right behind them.

"Looks like it. He's just gonna be really sore. Plus he's lost a good amount of blood so he'll be out in a few minutes but he's gonna be fine Jay." Gabby answered. Jay let out the breath he'd been holding in for what seemed like years but had only been hours.

"How the hell did you get shot?" Jay asked as they set up the IV.

"Tackled 'im." Will was quiet as he said it. Partly because he was moments away from passing out and partly because he knew how his brother was going to react.

"You what?" Jay raised an eyebrow.

"Jay, I'm putting an oxygen mask on him. He's not gonna be able to talk." Gabby explained as Sylvie started driving to the next closest hospital as Med was currently a crime scene.

"You better hope that that was you're delusional self getting shit mixed up because if I find out you tackled a crazy guy with a gun I'm going to fucking kill you Will." Jay threatened. Will responded by passing out.

At the hospital Jay waiting in Will's room, bedside, for him to wake up. His surgery was short, they just needed to get the bullet out and stitch him up. The surgeon had assured him Will would be back to his smart ass self soon.

"He saved my life ya know?" Jay looked up, a little startled until he recognized Adam. "I had the guy talked into letting everybody out. But something happened, I'm still not sure what, but he snapped. Lost it and started screaming about how we'd all meet his wife soon. He pointed his gun at me and Will came out of nowhere and knocked him over. Before I could even respond the gun went off." Adam said.

"I'm glad you're both alive." Jay smiled lightly.

"Tell him I said thanks when he wakes up." Adam took the hint to give him some space and left. There were more visitors in the next few hours but Jay was the only one there when Will woke up.

"Hey," Jay said from his chair.

"Ugh," Will groaned.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Like shit, how do I look?" He grinned.

"Even worse." Jay smiled back. "Come on, give me a hug." Jay stood up and Will pushed himself forward a little bit and allowed Jay to wrap his arms around him. He was careful not to touch his left arm or shoulder, they were covered in the cloth from a sling.

"How's Nat?" Will asked worried.

"She fine, just got out of surgery. She's gonna be okay." He said. Will nodded letting out a deep breath.

"Adam says thanks." Jay said once he was back in his chair. He had his eyebrow quirked up to let his brother know he was pissed.

"What was I supposed to do Jay? Let the guy shoot Adam then all of us?" He sighed.

"No. Just- I don't know." He huffed. After a few moments of silence he broke. "I'm proud of you. You did what I would do. But if you ever do it again I'll kick your ass." Jay smiled lightly.

"Yeah yeah, whatever." Will laughed, stopping to groan at his shoulder.

"I'll go get your doc," Jay left the room and did what he said, he found Will's doctor and told him Will was awake but he made a stop on his way back. He found himself in the men's bathroom, crying. He hadn't cried in, in he didn't know how long. He just couldn't stop thinking about how the call could have gone so differently.

#chicago med #Chicago PD #jay halstead #will halstead #my writing #prompt #@monicaaaaatje

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ecotone99 · 5 years ago

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[RF] Deterioration

I don’t know how I ended up like this, lying here still as a lifeless statue, unable to express myself to those around me. I can’t remember what happened, or when, I just know something did. I've lost any concept of time and my mind has become devoid of hope. Why can't they fix me? Why don’t they try? I can only look helplessly at friends as they cry for me, the tears like daggers in my already unhealable wound. I cry with them. They leave.

People come and go on a daily basis like clock work, 2pm every day until 5. And as the gears of the clock turn them away, I look at the hands that push them, they reach for nothing, forever chasing the endless loop. They wish to slow down, they want time to be longer, but nothings stops Father Time. He is a juggernaut of continuous power.

The routine has become monotonous and I long for something more, some change. But I cannot ask, I cannot try. I am my body’s prisoner and there is no escape. I can only observe what they are saying from afar. Talk of recovery comes rarely and it is solely about my communication, or lack thereof. My capability to form a single word seems to have left me and I can’t tell why. It’s a distant memory now.

However, the doctor’s conversation has changed today. She seems to have an unbearable burden on her back, crushing her under its weight.

“Paralysis, from the neck down. He’s not coming back from this.” The black words spilled from her mouth like molasses . My heart sank to the depths of the abyss, no return, no coming back. My life was over.. Those words were all that filled my head, it was all I could think of. I couldn’t do anything for myself, I was a useless,worthless sack of shit, destined to lie in a bed for the rest of my life unable to do ANYTHING! Something nobody wants to realise. But it’s my reality now. My blood boiled at that reality.

Then it came to me; surely she’s wrong. Even doctors can be wrong, medical degrees don’t mean anything when is comes to human error. She has to be wrong, I can feel it, there's still some feeling in my body. I'm not paralysed permanently, this won't last too long. Oh how delusional I was.

Days later, still in that bed unable to move and still confused about what has happened to me or when it happened, I knew I needed a change. I wanted to be fixed and was determined to make it happen but everytime I began to form the words I would choke. Still incapable of communication, I began to deteriorate. I would give all I owned and loved just to be fixed, put right. Even my wife and kids. They still haven’t visited me, they probably can't bear the sight of me like this. I can’t blame them because I can’t either.

My downward spiral continued that night; I started to dream of an accident. It involved a car. Someone was with me. Their blood was on my hands, on my face, on my clothes and in my hair. Blood of someone I had killed. I awoke with a scream which brought a nurse through. She found me in a state of fear and disary, wide-eyed in terror like prey caught by its vicious predator, frozen, immobile as any statue. She wiped the tears from my face as she called for a therapist. But it wouldn't help. I still couldn’t speak.

The rest of that night I spent trying to decipher the riddles of my brain, trying to find the identity of the one I caused to perish with my reckless driving. But my memories were lost in a labyrinth and I was trapped in the centre. Where to look for answers and a way out? The tears continued to flow, pooling on my cheeks, my muscles beginning to waste from the effects of paralysis. There was another pool, the blood of my victim. Oh God! What had I done?

I didn't want to awaken that morning, that afternoon or night. The therapist’s efforts were futile at best. Nothing could fix me, I’m useless and broken. If I could have pulled the plug, the flatline would be miles long by now. I wanted to know more about what happened but I couldn’t bring myself to attempt my speech therapy that day. They can’t help me, no one can. I was so deep into the void that it might as well have swallowed me. I should be with whoever it was who lost their life to me, just to apologise to them, to make sure they have found peace. My life is worthless now anyway.

Weeks passed. In spite of my earlier impressions I began to speak in broken words and then in broken sentences. Once I finally regained my ability to speak coherently I began to muster the courage to ask what had happened. But I was still haunted by the thoughts of my now recurring dream, it drew me like a moth to light, forever present in my thoughts. One afternoon, while a nurse fixed needles into my arm, I managed to croak out my question. She gave me a look of fierce sorrow, and called for my therapist again.

“Tell me Mr Adams, what do you remember of the incident?”The familiar, cautious voice of therapy.

I didn’t know what to say, I knew I had a passenger, I knew they had died, but I struggled to admit my knowledge of the accident. My very bones shook as the words spilled out. “ I- I ca- I can't remember who but, some- there was-” I choked on my own words. “There was someone else in the car when I crashed”.

What came next was worse than a sword to the heart. It was the destruction of my entire world, of my everything. My world began to crumble around me, the walls seemed to shake, the floor fell from under me, I slipped into the depths of the void seemingly never to return. The words dripped from his mouth like blood. It was my family. I had killed them in the crash, they had lost their lives to my mistake. I had killed them all, my beautiful wife and our little babies. I remembered the wine, the whisky, the loud music. I was drunk. The accident, my family asleep in the car after a New Year’s Eve party was down to me. I had decided, in fact I had argued with my wife over the keys, drunk though I was, to drive them home… We went through a barrier at 70 mph and straight off a drop. An 80 metre plummet. I shouldn't be alive. I should not have survived. I can taste the blood on my tongue again, I feel its metallic warmth on my lip, unable to move. I scream as in my peripheral vision are the lifeless bodies of my wife and little ones. I close my eyes. But I see them still.

There is no return now I have fallen so far. Mind and body unwind like string and the knots holding it all together unwravel. And I am left dangling by that last thread, deteriorating and grief- stricken. The thread will soon break. I accept what I did. I accept this deterioration as my fate. It already burns before me, emblazoned on my soul. I deserve it.

Epilogue

“The five stages [of grief], denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are a part of the framework that makes up our learning to live with the one we lost. They are tools to help us frame and identify what we may be feeling. But they are not stops on some linear timeline in grief. Not everyone goes through all of them or in a prescribed order.”

-Elizabeth Kübler-Ross, author of -On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss-

submitted by /u/urboiwildo425 [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/31sLIgE

#Blogger #Story

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chocolate-brownies · 7 years ago

Link

Marianne Williamson is an internationally-acclaimed author and speaker whose best-selling books have become essential New Spirituality reading. You’ve likely seen her on TV programs such as Oprah, Larry King Live, Good Morning America, or Bill Maher—or even at a Wanderlust event. Kerri Kelly is a spiritual disruptor and the founder of CTZNWELL, an activist organization working to expand wellness access.

Kerri launched the CTZN Podcast last month, and sat down with Marianne to talk about “the relationship between spirituality and politics, how to be a strong woman in today’s world, and getting back to loving America again.” Read on to be inspired and motivated by an excerpt of that conversation, and then join both of them at Wellspring this October in Downtown Palm Springs! For more information about Wellspring, click here.

CTZN Podcast is for truth seekers, bridge builders and emerging activists who are yearning to make a difference. We want to reimagine citizenship—not the kind the requires documents and papers. Trust us on this one. To subscribe on iTunes, click here.

Kerri Kelly (KK): Welcome Marianne Williamson.

Marianne Williamson (MW): Thank you. I’m glad to be here.

KK: Since the election a lot of people, especially a lot of people in our community, have been starting to see that the personal is in fact political, and have been leaning in and becoming more active in civic engagement and politics. So, can you share a little bit about your journey of becoming politicized in your life and in your spiritual practice?

MW: I don’t see politics so much a part of my spiritual practice. I see it part of my human practice and I see my spirituality as about being human. I don’t see spirituality as a separate category of existence. Here’s relationships. Here’s the body. Here’s finances. Here’s career and then over there is another category called spirituality.

KK: Right, like “now I’m going to be spiritual.”

MW: Well, spirituality is the underpinning to everything else we do, because spirituality has to do with self identity. Who am I? What is my relationship to the universe? What is my relationship to the earth? What is my relationship to other people? What is my relationship to tribe?

So, if my relationship to one person matters, then my relationships to larger groups matter. If my relationship to my family matters, then my relationship to my community matters, and my relationship to my country matters and my relationship to my species matters.

So, you know the original Latin root of the politics mean “of the people.” So, I don’t get precious with words like “spirituality” and I don’t get precious with words like “politics,” getting in to politics, getting in to spirituality. I think seeing any of those things, those types of things as separate categories is delusional. It all has to do with who we are as people and the stand we take, on whatever meaning we ascribe to, and whatever values we believe in.

If you want to heal a plant, to bring a plant back to live, you can’t just water the leaves, you have to water the roots. And that is what’s happening with our democracy.

KK: The new politics.

MW: This is something that’s been a little bit eclipsed and hidden for a while, but it’s really the reemergence of a conversation which was already brilliantly and eloquently articulated by [Dr. Martin Luther] King, by Gandhi and by others who knew than an internal as well as external shift would be necessary in order to fundamentally change the world.

I think at this point, and I think that if Dr. King were alive he would agree, I think we are clearly at a point where it is as true now as it was in his time when he was dealing with racism and the underlying racism that was at cause in the institutional horrors, such as institutionalized white supremacy, segregation in the American south and so forth, that we need that metanoia now. We need that change of heart now, just as urgently or any external changes we make will not be fundamental.

You can’t just water the leaves. If you want to heal a plant, to bring a plant back to live, you can’t just water the leaves, you have to water the roots. And that is what’s happening with our democracy and I think that the left is often far too focused on external issues. If we get it right with immigration or we get it right with the environment, or we get it right with food, or we get it right with income and equality or we get it right with education. But, there’s an underlying problem, which has poisoned all those areas, which is basically the hostile corporate take over of our government. The under influence of money on our politics. The fact that we are willing to give short term economic gain to multinational corporations, to give those financial profits and short term gains precedence over the health and wellbeing of our own planet and our own children. That’s the underlying poison. And we have to look into our hearts to see what’s going on there. And there are so many issues that have to be looked at internally, I think, before we can address them externally in a way that fundamentally makes a change.

KK: Well and a lot of what you’re naming, whether it’s capitalism, white supremacy, colonialism, are all a part of our core wounds.

MW: Well yeah, but I’m not enroll … You just said something that I’m not enrolled in. I’m not one of those people who sees capitalism in the same category as colonialism.

KK: Runaway capitalism.

MW: Yeah. Capitalism that has deviated from its ethical core. And some people would disagree. Some people think that capitalism is inherently evil. I don’t. I think that it is a … capitalism … Even Adam Smith said that it cannot exist, it cannot thrive outside an ethical core. So, I don’t … I think it’s the deviation of mono capitalism from and ethical core that is a problem.

KK: Okay, I want to shift gears. You recently posted on Twitter, this. “The old, I’m gonna call it paradigm, American women think, ‘Wow, that seems crazy to me’ but keep their mouth shut. The new paradigm is that American women think, ‘Wow, that seems crazy to me,’ and then they say, ‘No.'” And so I want to ask you about being a strong woman. Because I can relate to being an outspoken woman, but I’ve also been called a bitch. I’ve been called ambitious. I’ve been called aggressive. I’ve been made to feel unwelcome. I’ve been made to feel invisible and you too, move in male dominated spaces, whether it’s politics or publishing or business. And so, how do we handle that? Right? There’s this #MeToo movement, there’s clearly this uprising of women reclaiming their voice and their place as a part of the whole. And yet, you know still in our culture, strong women are characterized as too aggressive, you know, too strong, too violent, I mean, all of the things.

So, how do you deal with that personally, and what do you think is our role as women to disrupt that? Because I also believe that our voice is really necessary and we kind of need to blow through that.

MW: That fact that our voices have been so systematically silenced for so many centuries has not only oppressed women, it has not only hurt women, it has hurt the world, because we are driving with only one light, rather than two headlights. So, it has hurt the entire world that history, modern history, has been forged with only a male dominated, rather than and equally shared perspective between men and women.

I’ve certainly been called a bitch, a lot. It’s funny that you say that you’ve been called ambitious. If a man is called ambitious it’s considered a compliment.

KK: That’s right. That’s right.

MW: So, I think that we all realize that there’s an issue here, that quote, unquote, “strong women” are likely to be looked at a certain way and defined a certain way and described a certain way and criticized a certain way. Not just by men, by the way, but at least as much by other women, I am sad to say, as by men.

So, first of all, just us having that conversation right there, knowing that game for what it is, and speaking to it when we hear another woman criticized on that basis. Not shutting up right there.

I have always felt in my career, that I wasn’t saying anything everybody I know wasn’t saying, it’s just I was saying it when the lights were on and the microphone was on. I have a career saying things that everybody I know is saying but they’re saying it sort of in whispers or late at night on the phone and you hear people say, “That sounds crazy to me.” If it sounds crazy to you, it’s probably because it is crazy…. Don’t just whisper it, girls. Shout it from the mountaintops.

—

To hear the rest of this conversation, subscribe to the CTZN Podcast. To get even more Kerri and Marianne, join us at Wellspring this October. Let’s change the world—together.

The post Marianne Williamson: Weaving Politics Into Your Spirituality appeared first on Wanderlust.

#sleep sounds #sleep music #white noise app #nature sounds #relaxing sounds #rain sounds for sleeping

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starrfysh · 8 years ago

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The holiday we think of as Presidents Day is really a bit of a misnomer. Celebrated on the third Monday in February, what we today know as Presidents’ Day was first established by Congress in 1879 in recognition of President George Washington, and is still called “Washington’s Birthday” by the federal government. The holiday became Presidents’ Day in 1971 after Congress and the Nixon Administration moved to change it to the third Monday in February as part of the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, an attempt to create more three-day weekends for the nation’s workers. While several states streamlined the celebration of Washington’s and Abraham Lincoln’s birthday (the other President born in February) into Presidents’ Day, many states still have individual holidays honoring the birthdays of both patriots (though Lincoln’s birthday, February 12, is not a federal holiday). The collective holiday unofficially named in 1971 is today referred to as President’s Day,—or Presidents’ Day,—or Presidents Day. The given name seems to depend on whether the celebration is of one president, presidents plural or just presidents in general, (sometimes Thomas Jefferson and John F. Kennedy are folded in, too) and, also on how the opportunistic retail industry decides to name their holiday weekend car, mattress, or furniture sales event.

What’s more, though some states still celebrate Washington’s birthday on February 22, that’s not his real birthday. Though history books tell us he was born on February 22, 1732, Washington was actually born on February 11, 1731. But, because during his lifetime, Great Britain and her colonies switched from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, catching up with the rest of Europe which had made the change back in 1582, people born before 1752 had to add 11 days to their birth dates. Those individuals born between January 1 and March 25, as Washington was, also had to add a year to be in sync with the new calendar.

Interesting, how the thread of history will bow to opportunity and convenience, changing well-established truths into new truths or, alternative facts.

Since President’s/s’/s Day, or Washington’s Birthday is a federal holiday, federal employees get the entire week off and federal offices are closed. Congress takes the week off, too. The holiday is looked upon as a recess on the United States Congressional Schedule. On this, the first official recess of the year, congressional representatives put the process of governing “on hold,” going back ‘home’ to their respective states, taking respite from the grueling process of legislating in Washington. While at home, they customarily take this time to meet with their local constituents in what are historically referred to as town hall meetings. These “get to know one another events,” hallmarks of American democracy, are usually held at a local library, civic auditorium, or other gathering place big enough to accommodate a crowd, and are an opportunity for Senators and House Representatives to meet with voters, answer questions, and take the pulse of the communities they represent.

This year, however, the holiday recess proved more than a little chaotic and stressful for the homeward bound 115th Congress serving with the Donald Trump Administration. Almost unilaterally, Congressmen and Senators were met, upon arrival, by angry, frustrated crowds of constituents voicing their displeasure over critically pending issues like the uncertain future of health care access and The Affordable Care Act (ACA), antagonistic immigration policy and the building of a two-thousand mile wall along the country’s southern border, dwindling environmental protections, the fear of a future without Social Security, Russian interference in the 2016 election and—of course—the growing concern over the peculiar and erratic behavior of the 45th President.

One would have to be living on an alternate Earth not to know that these demonstrations are only the latest manifestations in the growing wave of resistance against the Donald Trump Administration. An administration that, at barely two months old, has not had a conflict or protest free day since it began.

An unofficial tally from the civic engagement website resistancerecess.com, a non-profit, public policy advocacy group, showed some 438 town hall meetings scheduled in cities across the United States for the week of February 18; some with, though most without, the attendance of the designated representative. Out of that number, only 19 Republican members of Congress were brave enough to schedule face-to-face town halls with their constituents. According to Town Hall Project, a grassroots effort out of Washington D.C. working to coordinate some of these meetings, some GOP Representatives were simply refusing to show up, and in a February 17, 2017 article, Salon reported that more than 200 Congressional Republicans “prepared to skip out” on previously scheduled town hall meetings rather than face their constituents. The web-based statistical platform Legistorm reported that most representatives’ offices wouldn’t even respond to requests for comment.

When Senators Cory Gardner of Colorado and Adam Kinzinger of Illinois both declined to attend their town halls, constituents took matters into their own hands, erecting cardboard cutouts of each representative, respectively, in order to “speak at” their absent GOP leaders images.

Those brave few that did show up suffered derision and criticism.

South Carolina’s Senator Tim Scott at a town hall meeting in Mt. Pleasant so big it had to be moved outside, was asked, “Are you proud Trump is president?”

“Given the two choices I had,” Senator Scott responded, “I am thankful.”

“You’re not proud!” a woman shouted back.

Entering through a back door to avoid the hundreds of outraged protesters outside, Kentucky Senator and Majority Leader Mitch McConnell presided over a ticketed town hall meeting at the Marriott in Louisville. Those that were lucky enough to purchase advance tickets got to hear the Senator answer three questions before a ten-minute warning was issued saying that the senator would have to leave for another engagement.

“A town hall is something that is open to the public. It’s a place where constituents can access their elected officials,” said Dawn Cooley, co-founder of Indivisible KY, an organization dedicated to ‘resistance to the Trump agenda.’ “What McConnell is doing are pay-to-play events.”

Mark Condon another Kentuckian unable to attend the closed event said, “It’s a ticketed event; the fact that he has not had a town hall where people can voice their concerns indicates to me two things: One, either he doesn’t care. Or two, he already knows what our concerns are and doesn’t care. It’s a terrible situation for a democracy where a representative doesn’t represent you.”

At a press conference on February 22, Trump’s Press Secretary Sean Spicer made it understood that the Administration did not consider the crowds representative of the members of each district. “There obviously are people that are upset,” said Spicer, “but when you look at things like this it is not a representation of a member’s district… it is a loud, small group of people disrupting something, in many cases for media attention…just because they’re loud doesn’t necessarily mean there are many.”

That same night the President tweeted, ‘The so-called angry crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually in numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists. Sad!’

But these protesters are not paid activists. These protesters are the citizens of The United States of America, deeply concerned about losing their health insurance, property rights, civil rights, and water quality. These people are middle class sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, students, teachers, healthcare workers, office clerks, customer service representatives, truck drivers, coal miners, farmers, you, and me. Their concern for their future, and their children’s future, and their passion is real. They are organizing and protesting because what they hear their representatives saying is not matching up with what they are doing. In fact, what the American people, now paying close attention see, is the growing ambivalence of elected officials towards the nation’s overall wellbeing and prosperity. And, of equal importance, and concern, is the widening gulf of unanswered questions regarding the deceitful, increasingly divisive, delusional speeches and behaviors of the President of the United States.

It must be understood that the confluence of events that has led us, as a nation, to this point in history is a shared responsibility. However, the more the Republican Party continues to indulge the President’s unorthodox behavior, excusing his senseless diatribes, smoothing over racist remarks, covering up obvious lies and possible corruption, the greater the probability that their future as a coherent party will be in question.

Howard Dean, Former DNC Chairman in an MSNBC interview with Lawrence O’Donnell said, “These are the things that eat politicians alive, and the Republicans are really in significant danger of looking like they don’t give a damn about the American people.”

It is certainly understandable, that the Republican Party, with majorities in both House and Senate, feels unfettered now, but in their zeal to get their conservative policies passed through Congress before a centrist public takes notice, they are irresponsibly putting aside the basic needs of the American people.

President Trump’s new preliminary budget “blueprint” favors a $54 billion increase in public safety and national security. He has said it will include a “historic increase” in defense spending to rebuild the depleted military. “This defense increase will be offset and paid for by finding greater savings and efficiencies across the federal government,” Trump says. “We’re going to do more with less.” Such an increase in military spending and homeland security will most likely be paid for with cuts to the State Department, foreign aid, and the Environmental Protection Agency, and it can also potentially mean cuts in discretionary spending across other federal agencies already at very low levels, including domestic entitlement programs like Medicaid, Medicare, Unemployment, and Social Security, traditional safety nets for all Americans. Real facts, devoid of Trump Administration alternative interpretations now show the majority of Americans disapprove of Republicans’ intent to repeal the ACA without a replacement. In fact, a POLITICO/Morning Consult poll from February 22, shows an almost even split between voter approval/disapproval of ObamaCare. One must question, if, as the Republican Party would have the people of the United States believe, ObamaCare “doesn’t work” and as the President of the United States is fond of saying, “it is a disaster,” why almost half of ACA recipients do not seem to think so.

And, what about the President’s reckless attacks on the media? Trump’s nonstop, baseless attacks on the fourth estate undermine the institution of a free and independent press, part of the fundamental underpinnings of our unique democracy and the First Amendment. Presidents have traditionally had difficulties with the media, but, as John F. Kennedy put it, “Even though we wish they didn’t write it…there isn’t any doubt at all that we couldn’t do the job in a free society without a very active press.”

It is time the Republican Party, and the rest of Congress stop gas lighting the republic and begin speaking honestly about their agenda, and about the state of mind of the President of the United States. The American people are patient, but they are not stupid. They feel the flux of disorientation and disorder at virtually every level in their government and they recognize the very real probability that there is no one leading the country right now.

President George Washington in his 1796 Farewell Address dedicated to “Friends and Citizens,” warned that the forces of geographical sectionalism and interference by foreign powers in the nation’s domestic affairs threatened the stability of the Republic. Warning against the influence of political factions, he said this:

“The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.”

We cannot continue to be the successful democratic experiment of liberty and union envisioned by our forefathers while the backbiting, vindictive partisanship of our present leaders continues controlling their decisions, taking precedence over the welfare of the American people. We now need entirely new leaders willing to put self-interest and revenge aside. The American people are beginning to see this, standing, speaking up, stopping the habitual patterns of being what journalist Walter Lippmann characterized as the bewildered herd, the real silent majority that watches from the sidelines but seldom takes action. It is evident that the continued protests and demonstrations organically sprouting across the nation are indicative of an American people no longer willing to be a silent majority.

On February 22, 1862, in the midst of the dark days of the Civil War, Congress adopted a tradition that has steadfastly remained: the annual reading of President Washington’s Farewell Address on his birthday. The official website of the United States Senate tells us that Tennessee Senator Andrew Johnson, later 17th President of the United States, introduced the petition into the Senate, saying, “In view of the perilous condition of the country, I think the time has arrived when we should recur back to the days, the times, and the doings of Washington and the patriots of the Revolution, who founded the government under which we live.”

Though a tradition to this day, it is no longer mandatory that Senators attend this yearly ceremonial reading of Washington’s Farewell Address and indeed, many opt out of the yearly event’s attendance. Perhaps, given the present state of leadership in the United States, a mandatory attendance should be required.

It is a real fact that 46.6% of the American population, almost half, disappointed in government and unable to decide between two candidates they did not like, did not vote in the 2016 election. Now, as a country, we are at a crossroads, demanding change, renewing ideals, and redefining what it means to be American in the 21st century.

There has never been a presidency so unpopular, nor an administration so wrought with conflict and the earmarks of corruption so early into its leadership than the Administration of President Donald J. Trump. As tensions continue to escalate, the body of Congress will be faced with making the following crucial decisions very soon: how to respond to its constituents’ rising demands and immediate need for real answers; how to deal with implementing the bulk of conservative policies to the ocean of moderate constituents who currently make up the majority of the American people; and, perhaps most importantly, whether to continue allowing a Commander-in-Chief who obfuscates truth for the lurid fantasies of his own reality, the continued indulgence of dangerously tampering with the governing of the most powerful nation on earth.

“The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their Constitutions of Government,” President Washington further stated in his Farewell Address.

It is becoming increasingly evident that, though the end game is still unclear, the American people are mobilizing as a unified force, toward this same conclusion.

The Real Rise of the Silent Majority The holiday we think of as Presidents Day is really a bit of a misnomer. Celebrated on the third Monday in February, what we today know as Presidents’ Day was first established by Congress in 1879 in recognition of President George Washington, and is still called “Washington’s Birthday” by the federal government.

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