#JOHN IS THE SHORTEST IN THEIR GROUP AND I WILL FIGHT FOR IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-am-the-oyster · 3 months

Note

hey! you know icke braun’s autobiography? i saw a post that you made about the book and that you and somebody were working on translating (the post is from like 2022) and i was wondering if you had a pdf or something of the translated version?

Yes! Icke Braun should get so much more attention from Beatles fans.

@packyourromanticmind has very kindly shared the full text that she and her mother translated (below the cut).

If you'd like to follow along the analysis of Icke and Paul's relationship that I've been working on with @ilovedig go here (we're hoping to continue the series soon).

Anyway, back to the translation:

Kathia heard from a friend that a great group was playing the Kaiserkeller in the Grosser Freiheit area . She kept going on at me that we should go see them play. When we talked about it in the Pigalle, people all pulled skeptical faces.. ‘That’s rock n’ roll that they’re playing, it’s absolutely below our level’. And anyway, for us it was a dangerous area, but still, I was very intrigued. One could go and listen to them and then decide what we thought of the music, and so I went with Kathia.

It was a sort of wake up experience. This music meant, without exaggeration, a total change in my life. For the first time, I saw The Beatles, I was totally out of my comfort zone; that was my music. From one moment to the next, Earl Alexander and the whole jazz scene was yesterday’s news. The Beatles brought much more dynamic energy and aggressiveness to the stage. I could feel myself bodily transmorph into the music. It wasn’t just the music that I found amazing, I also found the way that the boys presented themselves on stage - their choreography was amazing. Paul was left-handed and stood with John or George together who were right-handed and the microphone was in the middle. So they stood with their faces to the microphone but the public saw them from the side and it was a wonderful symmetry which fitted their music. At this time the band consisted of five people, Paul McCartney on bass guitar and song, John Lennon; rhythm guitar and song, George; lead guitarist and song, Stu Sutcliffe; bass, and Pete Best on drums. In the shortest time possible, I became a fervent fan. I went to the Kaiserkeller several times. The atmosphere was rough there, sometimes even dangerous because most of the guests there were rockers. Rock n’ roll was their sole music and they had no patience with people next to them who weren’t Exis. The Beatles at that time had their own style. As I said, I don’t understand music a lot, but to my ears, there was everything in their music that later became their sound. Above all, it was rock n roll. They covered Chuck Berry, and of course the rock fans loved him. The music and the beer would flow freely, the atmosphere could change quickly, and they would have start a fight. This was not allowed by the Kaiserkeller and its owner, (who was called Horst and was a former boxer). For the rockers, it was a seal of honour to poke fun at the people who that didn’t fit in with them, especially their enemies, among them of course the Exis to which I belonged. The best thing was to ignore the poking altogether and take yourself to another corner. Luckily I always managed to keep away from the fights, without completely losing face.

After a few weeks, the Beatles went into the Top Ten on the Reeperbahn, where their concerts were mostly visited by people who allowed themselves greater musical freedom. So, visitors like Kathia and I weren’t in the minority anymore. We were at the Top Ten most evenings, where a certain trust situation between The Beatles and us developed. There were situations where I really regretted that I hadn’t learnt better English, otherwise I would have had many more chances to have contact with the boys. One morning after a long night in Top Ten, Kathia and I went to bed between 3 and 4am in the morning. We went to her house and fell into bed exhausted, where we spent the rest of the day in bed. In the evening around 8 or 9pm we made our way to Hamburg again, back to the Top Ten. On the way from Ahrensburg, we came past a large strawberry plantation. Because there were no people around, Katia said, let’s steal a few strawberries. The strawberries were small, red and sweet and after we had eaten enough, we said, let’s take some for The Beatles. Kathia went into a barn and came out with a big basket. We picked so many strawberries that the basket overflowed, and on the way to the car, most fell into the road. We put the basket behind my seat and drove off. At 10pm at the Top Ten, The Beatles were already in full swing, and the dance floor was thick with people. Between two sets, we took the strawberries to the stage. The other guests joked and called us the young strawberries. We could have invited the band for a round of beer or schnapps, like the sailors or rockers did, but the strawberries were something else. The Beatles were overjoyed like children, and Paul said ‘what a wonderful idea, you can do this again!’ (He said this in bad German, which he had learnt in school). The four boys started to eat and couldn’t stop. The interval became longer and longer because the basket was so full and took a long time to empty. The public began to protest, so John decided to start throwing strawberries at people, and then Paul and the others copied him. The public then threw back the squashed strawberries and it became a food fight…Luckily most of the strawberries had been eaten. Paul then came down from the stage and asked Kathia and myself if we had a musical wish. There was a song which we liked called ‘Till There Was You’ and Kathia whispered to me that we should choose this song. It was a love song and didn’t actually fit into the whole rock n’ roll genre that they normally played. Unfortunately Paul didn’t understand that this was Kathia’s music choice and thought for years that this was my favourite song . Every time that I went to the Top Ten or The Star and he saw me, he would play ‘Till There Was You, which was was quite embarrassing for me because it wasn’t my taste of music at all, and also because the rockers bombarded me with rude gestures and remarks. Years later, when the boys were already famous, and I was allowed backstage, we were sitting in the Ernst Merck hall and George Harrison mentioned ‘Till There Was You. I told him that it was actually Kathia’s music taste and not mine. So he understood, but there is still footage from The Star Club where one can hear “And now we will play ‘till there was you’ for Icke”.

After the strawberry episode, we came to know The Beatles better. Sometimes we went with them to a bar. Down below in the port, there was an English speaking pub where you could get English food and be served by English waiters and we went there a few times to eat. It was called British Sailors Society. Pete Best was very rarely there, he usually stayed in the background. And also we didn’t see much of Stu Sutcliffe, he was already dating Astrid Kircherr and concentrating more on his studies in his art school, instead of the music. The best contact I had was with Paul, not only because he was the only one who spoke German, but to me he was the most likeable. I went with him a few times to the Raa-Wiese. At one point he wanted to sleep with a girl, a groupie who he met in the Top Ten. He didn’t want to meet in the little room that he shared with John, George and Pete, so there were very few other opportunities for inviting girls back . He asked me if he could take the girl back to mine. Although I didn’t have much space either, but I still said yes. So I invited both of them into my little beatle car; Paul sat next to me on the passenger seat, and he had the girl on his lap. Even though she was small and dainty, it was a very tight squeeze. In a convivial mood we drove along the river at 4am in the morning, reciting tongue twisters. It was my job to say ‘red lorry yellow lorry’ three times. It was very difficult with my bad English…it was even more difficult because I was laughing so much. Suddenly the girl shrieked as in front of us a car appeared. I could only steer the car to the right and we narrowly avoided a crash. However I turned the wheel too sharply and we turned around full circle and came to a stop in the middle of the street. We really had amazing luck that at this time of day, as there was very little traffic. The car that we nearly hit was a taxi , a tank-like black Mercedes. The driver was standing next to his car and shouting like a lunatic, and he was not far from starting a fight. I was in two minds whether to drive off or not, because the taxi driver was a bullish type and he wanted to lay into me. However I decided to walk over to him, and with great effort and honest regret, I persuaded him not to report us so we were able to continue our journey in peace, although the girl now had to sit behind us. That was the worst near fatal collision of my whole life. We had been laughing so much, I didn’t notice that we had somehow ended up on the other side of the road, and we were a hairs breath away from a head on crash. We were uninsured, without airbags or safety belts and it could have been curtains for all three of us and the lorry driver. One could imagine how much poorer the world would have been without Paul.. no Beatles! The band would not have made it without Paul. George might have become an electrician, John an artist and Ringo, well he wasn’t even in the picture. No, I don’t want to imagine it. I later relayed the story to Thomas Struck, a Hamburger underground filmmaker who went on to make a small film of our near accident .

It’s strange that there is a rumour in this context which has been going around since 1969, and that is that Paul McCartney apparently died in a car accident in 1966 and has since been impersonated by a double. This rumour became almost a conspiracy theory which the 74 year old Ringo Starr corroborated in an interview in 2015. The theory, he said, was that Billy Shears played the double for Paul. At first, everyone wanted to keep the story going, so that record companies, and concert venues and the public were spared the gruesome details of the reality, and because Shears played his role so perfectly and nobody noticed the exchange of personality, they left it at that. Even on stage, Shears played Paul perfectly . In fact, Ringo asserts, he was better than McCartney! I don’t know what was going on between him and Paul, but such differences to me seemed very hateful. Paul apparently, after this unveiling, very angrily retorted that it was the senile gossip of an old man.

I met Paul long after the supposed accident and I never had the feeling that I was talking to a double. On the contrary, in 1991, at the Hamburg premiere about their previous world tour, I visited him in the Hotel Atlantic. He was standing with his wife Linda and two men at reception and was just about to leave when he saw me. Spontaneously he came over to me and greeted me. Billy Shears couldn’t have reacted like this, because he didn’t know me. Ringo got his comeuppance for his angry diatribes later when a post on Twitter dated 2016 declared him dead. This rumour (and naturally it was nothing more), spread like wildfire over the whole internet. I am curious to see which rumour will be the next one to make the rounds.

Anyway back to reality. When we arrived in Rahlstedt, we had to drive through a little housing estate, and it was night when we arrived; the moon was shining brightly, and the little allotment houses looked like normal houses in miniature form. Paul laughter and said; ‘I’ve never seen anything like this, do dwarves live in them?’ No I said, these are garden houses , they belong to normal people and I live in one of these houses (I was joking). In Paul’s defence , he had had a few drinks, and his tolerance wasn’t very high.

My little room suddenly became quite tight for three people; Paul, his girlfriend, and myself. Paul thought that there was even less space here than the room the group shared above the Top Ten. Because I was feeling hospitable (and because I had a bad conscience about the accident), I gave him my bed, and proceeded to make myself comfortable on the floor. Sleep however, did not come to mind, because the girl tried repeatedly to charm Paul and to pull him into her arms. Instead, he lay with his head supported by the headboard and told us stories about how he and his friends spent their nights in Hamburg. He was talking about himself, John , George and Pete Best. Stu Sutcliffe was better off because he lived with his girlfriend Astrid Kircherr . For the first time I discovered that the four Beatles lived together in a room above the Top Ten with only a little skylight, and that was only a small improvement to the hellhole their previous boss, Bruno Koschmider had put them in when they first arrived in Hamburg. They were still with Stu at that point, so it was five of them in total. Bruno, who owned the Bambi Kino, vacated a room for them that previously housed the film reels. It was small, unheated, had no window and in comparison to their current abode, it didn’t even have a skylight. To sleep, they had to lie on straw sacks on the floor. The only positive, Paul said, was that this room was directly behind the cinema screen and the boys were able to listen to the dialogue and music of the films that played from 4pm in the afternoon. The room was lit with one tiny bare lightbulb which hung from the ceiling, and there wasn’t even a wash basin in the room. To wash themselves, they had to go to the mens toilets in the cellar. That’s where they got know Tante Rosa, the toilet attendant. Paul was charmed by her, she washed all their sweat soaked clothes, otherwise, they would have had nothing to wear. Without Tante Rosa, they would have long ago been buried in their own dirt. He also told us of the first time they went on stage at the Indra, a strip tease joint, which was also owned by Bruno. Because it was such a bad joint, the Beatles had to share billing with the strip tease dancers. For two months they had to endure this crap, because their previous manager, Alan Williams had told them that they would be appearing in a huge nightclub, (which actually turned out to be the Kaiserkeller). Unfortunately, Derry And The Seniors were appearing there, who were of the opinion that The Beatles had nothing to offer in Hamburg, and they would bring the place into ill repute with their English rock n’ roll. However it wasn’t long before The Beatles were allowed to appear, because the Senior’s contract had expired. However, their living situation didn’t change.

Paul couldn’t stop telling these stories, and I felt very privileged and honoured that he trusted me to share so much. In the meantime, the girl had long since fallen asleep and was snoring loudly, whereas we two talked deep into the night, and our conversation didn’t find an end. Very late in the night, just as it got light outside, Paul suddenly stopped speaking mid-sentence, fell asleep and began snoring louder than the girl. I tried to find myself a bearable place on the floor, but I couldn’t fall sleep for a long time because of the snoring.

I never got to know Bruno Koschmider but after Pauls stories, I’m assuming he must have been a dreadful man. Small, hunched and constantly with a miserable face.. strangely, in World War Two, apparently he performed as a clown, although he never made us laugh. This is the story that Pete Best told us anyway; that ‘he was never a clown and he never made us laugh’. In some strange way however, he had came into the money and was able to buy the Indra, the Kaiserkeller, and the Bambi-Kino cinema . His only merits was he was the first one to bring a British sound to Hamburg; he had started with Tony Sheridan, then came Derry And The Seniors, Rory Storm and The Hurricanes and finally, the Beatles. On the other hand, one could say that he misused these young people shamefully. For instance, The Beatles had to sign an agreement that for 30 marks per person, they had to play four hours a night from Monday - Friday, and on Saturday they had to play for six hours. Bruno even took money during their intervals. When they moved above the Top Ten and were earning 5 marks more a day, they had to play for longer. But even so, they thought it was a move in the right direction, because they got on better with their new boss, Pete Eckhorn. Bruno threw it in their faces that they ‘deserted’ him. Then he became nasty and threw all sorts of accusations at them. First of all, because George Harrison was underage, he reported him for this. Then he reported Paul and Pete, accusing them of trying to burn down his cinema. In reality, they had only left their old boss two used condoms as a farewell present . In the end, it was only John who stayed behind in Hamburg, however he became very lonely without his friends and later returned of his own free will back to the U.K. So the story of The Beatles in Hamburg could have come to an end without much ado . But as luck would have it, they had signed a contract with Eckhorn, which means they could travel back to Germany very soon.

I once had Paul, John and George stay with me at my home in the Raawiese. My landlords weren’t home, only their 12 year old son who hung around us, and their Chinese Nightingale, who were heard singing in the background. We made a small fire in the garden and started to empty a bottle of whisky that we had bought with us. The little boy showed us a mass of twigs which were waiting to be burned, the wood was a little fresh and it was hard to light. After a short while, we had a little campfire, although the smoke got into all our eyes! Perhaps it was the whiskey talking, or our sporting aspirations , but we decided to start jumping over the fire. After every jump we were allowed to take a slug of whiskey. Even the young boy dared to join in. When John made a misjudged jump and nearly landed in the fire and burnt his trousers, we stopped playing. He complained his only lederhosen was now kaput, although they didn’t seem damaged to me. In the meantime, the whiskey flask was nearly empty and we were all quite drunk. It was late and the three wanted to get home to rest before their next performance. With my drunken head on, I told them I could drive them, but John wanted to borrow my beatle car instead. The fact that he had no driving license, and probably couldn’t drive anyway, didn’t matter to him. Unfortunately it mattered to me, so instead of driving my taking the car, I took them to the bus stop. It was really hard for us to walk even the few hundred meters with our wobbly legs. If we had driven there definitely would have been another accident!

When I returned to the Raawiese, the little boy came to me in great distress and told me that the nightingale was dead. ‘Which nightingale?’ I mumbled. I let myself be taken to the house where the birdcage hung. Then I saw the problem…The nightingale lay on his back with rolled up feet and he wasn’t moving. Even when I gently nudged him, I couldn’t bring him back to life. Perhaps our campfire had killed him. I actually thought to myself, when the landlords find out about this, I will be out on the street. So I told the boy that our adventures with the fire had to be kept a secret from his parents. He agreed, and we threw some water onto the campfire and moved everything away that was still lying around from the garden party. I was hoping the neighbours were away, and wouldn’t tell on us. Anyway, my fears were ungrounded, because although the landlords were sad about the death of my bird, they never asked any questions. Obviously the little boy stayed true to his word. I met him recently after a visit to the Kleingartensiedlung. He still lived in the little old house. In the meantime, he had renovated and extended, but otherwise it looked exactly like it did in bygone days. He told me proudly that he tells our story to the people on his estate, and they fall about in surprise when he says that The Beatles once came to his house and jumped over their camp fire.

From April 3rd 1962, The Beatles played in the Star Club. Kathia and I had a sort of place of honour in the upper circle which was always reserved for us. We never paid any entrance fee and we always had a great view. Although since then, I’ve had another girlfriend - we still sat together in the same box. On the box in front of us was Astrid Kirchherr, Klaus Vormann and Jurgen Vollmer. There were the first guard of Beatles friends, and we belonged to the second. The great thing about our box was that we were allowed to use it even when other musicians appeared in the star club . In those days, these were the prominent people in the rock n’ roll scene of the time; Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis. For all these visits, we didn’t have to pay a penny, except for Ray Charles, who we once saw in the Star Club; that cost me 20 Marks.

Next to the Star Club, there was a place called Zer Holle. This was where I often sat with The Beatles, but also with other bands, such as Gerry And The Pacemakers. There was sometimes a woman joining us called Mary Brown, who was the leader of the Beatles fan club. I was once here with Mary, Paul McCartney, Gerry and a few others. Gerry went on at me that I should become his fan too. He spoke nonstop and he kept repeating the same sentence. “Icke, you should become MY fan”. At the beginning I felt very honoured and flattered, but after a while he got on my nerves . I ordered him a beer and although he was already fairly merry, he toasted me and said, “now I’m becoming an honorary Beatles fan”. I asked Mary to show me my fan passport which she showed me immediately. I was member number 62. Until the late 60s, Mary Brown sent every member of the fan club a vinyl recording of music and best wishes from The Beatles. As an honorary member, I also had to pay very little for the beer. Once, a waiter who was new to the Star Club, asked me for 1.50 Marks and I didn’t have any change, so I gave him a 20 Mark note . He said to me, ‘when I’ve got the change i’ll come back to you’. I tried to attract his attention when he passed by my seat, but he looked at me like he didn’t recognise me. He insisted that I’d only given 1.50 and I became very stubborn and started arguing, and he threatened to throw me out. At that moment Horst Fascher walked past. I didn’t know him very well but he knew me. I told him I’d given the waiter 50 marks but he hadn’t given me any change. One moment said Horst. The waiter was a head higher than the owner but he knew what was coming. Horst grabbed him by his arm , turned him away from me and said a word I didn’t understand . Then he waited until the the waiter opened his pocket book and gave me 48.50 as change. Normally I’m an honest person, but when I’m being swindled, the war-child in me comes through, who has learnt to insist and get tough, even if it’s at the cost of other people. I didn’t have a bad conscience because of what I had done. First, I did to him what he did to me, and second, on his evening round, he had probably done the same to the rest of his evening guests.

Horst was the eldest of three brothers. They were all small men under 1m 70, but they were feared fighters. He was the first one to have the idea to bring English rock music to Germany. In 1959 he appeared as a lightweight fighter in a match in London. That evening after the fight, he partied through Soho and landed in a club where rock n’ roll bands were playing live. The German version of this music was also playing at the moment in the Kaiserkeller, but this was a different format. The singer was Tony Sheridan. His appearance was as strong and authentic as Bill Haley or Elvis Presley, who one only knew through Hollywood films. Horst was amazed. Back in Hamburg, he told Bruno Koschmider of his discovery. Bruno flew instantly to London and engaged Tony for his Kaiserkeller . Horst was the second string to his fiddle; he was later responsible for bringing the Beatles from the Kaiserkeller into Peter Eckhorn’s Top Ten, and then to Manfred Weissleder in the Star Club. Both his brothers were waiters in the Star Club but otherwise they didn’t really play a large role. Freddie, on the other hand, who was the youngest brother, became my protector. I was only a little player, and the impression was sometimes that people could push me around. But if I became cross with somebody and Freddie noticed, he would come between us . He was little, and his opponents were mostly bigger so he would grab them by the shirt, pull them down to his level and give them a headbutt, then there was peace.

With his brother Horst, I once had a special adventure. At Christmas of ’62 I had made The Beatles a special Christmas plate (as I had done the year before), where amongst other things I always distributed were bags of Liptons tea. That was a trademark - it was meant to be a quirky reminder of home. I also placed candles on the plates, and I wanted to bring all of this onto the stage, but Horst told me off and said, ‘you can’t do this with lit candles on stage - its much too dangerous…What were you thinking? Give them to me!’ So he dimmed the lighting in the room and took the coloured plates with the lit candles to the stage. The Beatles were already throwing tea bags and biscuits at each other, and Paul took the microphone and said, ‘Icke, you are so considerate’. Because of the teabags, they recognised the plates were my invention, even though Horst had taken them to the stage. The hardened rockers in the audience thought it was a bit feminine and misplaced that I should give such Christmas presents for them. But for me, every appearance The Beatles made was a present that was bigger than I ever could have given them back. Every time I listened to them, an intense feeling of happiness flowed through me . In them, I could forget everything around me. I never experienced such a total immersion in any other rock band who appeared at the Star Club. Perhaps there was something feminine about it , but I didn’t care.

Something feminine was at play the first time I met John. I sat with him and the rest of the band at The Star Club at the end of the night after their gig. The bar was the shape of a large oval on which one side John sat with George and a few other guests, whereas Paul and I were about five meters away on the other side. We chatted about who was our favourite author. Naturally the guys only knew English or American authors, that was clear. Who mentioned who I’m not so sure. One said Lewis Caroll, another said Dylan Thomas. I had recently seen the play Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas, otherwise I knew nothing of him. ‘And you Icke?’ Asked Paul.. ‘who is your favourite author?’. ‘Henry Miller, I find him really great’, I replied. At the same moment, John glanced over to me. Up until then, he had been watching - with his usual slightly bored expression, Bettina the bar lady as she washed up glasses and cleared up the bar. Our conversation didn’t seem to interest him enormously. Now he looked at me directly in the eyes. Silently and without taking his eyes off me, he came around the whole length of the bar, kissed me on the mouth and walked back to his place. At first I was very surprised and didn’t know what to do about this. Then I found it slightly amusing and didn’t think any more of it . A few days later, it happened again. I met him on the walkway behind the stage and again he took my hand and kissed me. That made me actually think about the fact.. ‘Oh my God, am I gay?, because I don’t know if I can do this’. But what was really behind this, I don’t know, and never knew. Maybe the kisses were a sort of overture? Because amongst homosexuals, he was known as a Klemm-schwuler (‘camp gay’ /closet case). I have no idea. In any case, I saw his girlfriend Cynthia, who visited him in 1961 and who he married a year later. Quite apart from that, he was often seen in the company of girls a lot.

On the 10th April, 1962, the fifth Beatle, Stu Sutcliffe died of a brain tumour. It was the same day that his band colleagues, (apart from George), landed at Hamburg airport a few days later to appear at the Star Club. I had very little contact with Stuart, because he left the band a year before I knew them to concentrate on his studies at the art school. Amongst his friends, his death was a huge shock. Especially hard hit was John, who was at art school in Liverpool with him and was close friends. For days he ran around like a corpse through the city, until he found himself again.

In the first half of Nov 1962, when The Beatles appeared at the Star Club again, the drummer was Ringo Starr and not Pete Best. I couldn’t get used to it at first. Even though I had very little personal contact with Pete, I felt that an important part of the brilliant ensemble had been lost. After a while, I became used to Ringo and strangely, the music became somehow rounder, and in any case, not as loud as before. Perhaps I’m just imagining it, as I’ve said, I’m not the greatest music expert. My impression was that Pete always drummed like a madman, whereas Ringo fitted in with the music. What Paul had said to me was that it was Brian Epstein who replaced Pete. It was already then very obvious the enormous influence this man had on the group. From the beginning of November, he monitored their performances and they appeared in a new, specially made outfits which they had overlooked so far in their Hamburg performances. Now they were in preppy clothes. And accordingly, they behaved themselves on stage. No more mucking around and no insults. It was only when Epstein left Hamburg on Nov 10th, they were able to go back to their old style of performance. Already on the Sunday evening, just a few hours after they had taken their manager to the airport, they were wearing their old leather rags and dancing on the stage as normal. John as usual, offended the whole audience by insulting them.

The Beatles last performances at the Star was Dec 18 -31st, 1962 . On New Years day, they were due to go back to England. I took Paul in my little beatle car to the airport, where he met with the others. Then the announcement came that the flight to London was delayed by four hours. Wonderful I thought, I have more time to hang out with them. It was in these last hours that I could talk to them all on the same level; because what happened in the next few months in England, at the crazy speed it developed, none of us, the Beatles or the fans could have imagined. The next time I saw them, they were absolute world stars and they lived in a different world. That time in the airport bar we were still thinking that in a few months, they would be appearing at the Star Club again . They were in good spirits, and not just because of the previous night where we had celebrated all night, and drunk a lot of alcohol. It was more because they were heading off on small tour in Scotland, which was due to take place the next day beginning in Keith. But most importantly, they were beginning a tour with Helen Shapiro, where they would appear as one of the six warm up acts. Helen was 16 years old, so a few years younger than The Beatles, but much more famous and much more savvy than the boys. Musically they didn’t think much of her, but her fame was hard to discredit. It was going to be their first professional tour. Us Hamburger fans followed their journey via newspapers and the radio, how they were celebrated by the public, and soon Helen Shapiro was displaced. This tour lasted a month from February to March 1963, and catapulted The Beatles into the heavies of rock music. Together with Tommy Roe and Chris Montez-Tournee, they had broken through. Brigitte Janner, who was my girlfriend at the time, kept me up to date with how famous the band were becoming and the welcome they received whenever they appeared .

It was three and a half years later that I saw them again. A teen magazine called Bravo had organised a lightening tour through Germany with them, and three weeks before had started creating an advertising frenzy . Even the people from Der Bild and Bravo stood outside my house and wanted to interview me. I said they could interview me if they could get me into the Beatles press conference . They didn’t want to do that, perhaps they couldn’t do it. In any case I didn’t give them an interview. The next day in Der Bild newspaper, there was a big article entitled ‘Icke And The Beatles’. There was a photo of me with wide open eyes, which somebody had shot the moment I had opened my door for them. It was not exactly a good image of me and I would have stopped the publication of it had I known. Also in this article, there were loads of made up stories . These stories started circulating at my work which made me uncomfortable, not least because my colleagues were gossiping about me. After all, I was head of the department, and I didn’t want to be compromised. There were newspaper articles in Der Bild and Bravo about me in Reinhold & Mahla (my workplace) which was uncomfortable for me, because it meant my colleagues had ratted on me.

The tour was booked from the 24th - 26th June; three days in three cities. Through the press photographer, Peter Bruchmann, I found out the Beatles would be arriving at 5 30 am on a special train at the Ahrensburg station, so I got up at 4 in the morning not to miss this moment. As the train approached, I stood very close to the edge of the platform. A mass of journalists, fans and other commuters also stood on the platform. It was terribly noisy and nobody could understand a word anyone was saying. Luckily, I found a favourable place on the platform - facing the wagon in which the Beatles were basically stood right outside my nose. I saw the guys standing at the window and Paul saw me too. He moved his lips as though he wanted to say something to me, and pointed to the front where they were going to disembark. Unfortunately this was about 10 meters deep with people who were all trying to see the band. I tried with all my might to push through but I was still stuck in the middle. It was just impossible to get through. The Beatles had already disembarked. They were corralled straight away by the bodyguards who had freed a walkway through the crowd. However, Paul managed to turn around, he called to me, ‘We’ll see you later!’, and then they ran at speed through the walkway, out to where the cars were standing, surrounded by journalists and fans who were waiting for them. They were taken with a police escort to the Castle Tremsbuttel, where they were staying the night.

The whole thing happened so quickly that on the way home, I thought it had been a dream. On the way back in the car, I asked myself, what did Paul mean when he called out to me? How should I approach him, how was it going to work that we would see each other when the instructions had been so vague. The two concerts were scheduled for 3pm - 4.45pm and then 7pm - 8 45 pm. In between both concerts there were press conferences being held, to which unfortunately I wasn’t invited. I managed to get a ticket for the second concert, but I still hung around for three hours with the other fans in the hall. Suddenly on the loudspeaker I heard my name. ‘Icke Braun is asked to come to the desk’. I thought to myself, what do I need to come to the desk for? but I went anyway. A man was standing there who I had met before - he was from the newspaper, Der Bild. He told me that Paul McCartney wanted to speak to me, then turned around and went into the conference room and I followed him. Already outside I could hear John Lennon’s voice and as the door opened, I saw him joking with the journalists. As everyone was only speaking English, I didn’t understand much of it. The Beatles were sitting on a podium together with a man I didn’t know. Later I discovered that that was Neil Aspinall who was the personal assistant to the Beatles. George saw me and waved me to his side. I went a bit nearer to the stage but kept my distance. Why should I stand around on the stage looking stupid when I had nothing to say? So I stayed where I was and waited until the end of the conference until I said hello to the guys. A few journalists then left the room but most stayed. When the Beatles came down from the stage, George asked me ‘how are you and what are you doing with yourself’? I said, ‘yes I’m good, I’m now married!’, John heard that and called, “Where’s your wife, let’s see your wife!” and Neil said to me; the Beatles wishes must be obeyed! So I called Evelyn and told her the Beatles wanted to meet her. She was able to come straight away because we had talked about something like this happening. We withdrew into a little room, and suddenly I saw that there was Kathia and Bettina from the the Star Club. I must have overlooked them amongst all the chaos. When Evelyn appeared, she was the first to be introduced to the Beatles. Everything revolved around her and as they were all speaking in English, I stood by looking stupid, so I took the chance to go to the toilet. in order to do that, I had to go through the hustle of journalists who were waiting to grab one of the Beatles. When I came back from the toilet, they were begging me to take them back into the conference room. One said, if you take me with you, I will give you 1000 Marks. When I got back to the Beatles, I asked if I could bring a few people in to meet them, but John and the others were emphatic; no way, we want this to be just us. Bettina took a few photos out of her bag, which showed the Beatles in the Top Ten and the Star Club. The boys were delighted and told her that they would like to have the photos. I told them that the photographer who took them was standing outside the door. ‘Fetch him in, fetch him!’ said John excitedly. The photographer was called Peter Bruchmann, and was absolutely delighted to be the only journalist to be allowed into the conference room. It was he who had given me the tip that the band would be alighting off the train at Ahrensburg . I knew him from the time when the Beatles played at the Top Ten. At that point he hadn’t heard anything about them, and I had to persuade him to come and see them and take a few photos. These became the most famous photos he had ever taken.

A few years ago, we spoke and he told me that his career never got better than these early days. Sadly in 2014 he died. The last photo that he ever took of The Beatles in Germany, he took at the Ernst-Merck-Halle concert venue. The other people in the picture were Bettina, Kathia, Evelyn and i. Unfortunately he couldn’t supply photos from their Hamburg time to the boys at this moment, but he promised them he would send them on if they gave him a forwarding address, however, in the general melee this conversation sadly got forgotten.

All together we stayed for two hours and told each other what we had been up to in our lives. Amongst other things, I asked if they and The Rolling Stones were enemies like the German press insisted. They said that was total nonsense; they were very friendly with them. Then we went into the dining room where we ate fillet steak with lots of onions. Ringo pushed the onions fussily to the side of his plate, and said ‘the whole world knows that I don’t eat onions apart from Hamburg evidently’. During the second concert, we sat int the first row in reserved places, so I could have said myself 20 Mark fee! The Beatles only played half an hour because they wanted to introduce some Hamburg band which included The Rattles. A few of these bands ended up being a bit disappointed because they were just pushed to the side and their music was hardly listened to. Unfortunately, I as an audience member, could understand because everyone had came to see the Beatles, not the Hamburg side acts. Paul told me before the band went onstage that we would see him afterwards, however they disappeared from the stage straight away; while the public was still clapping and calling for more, they were already in their cars. That was the only way to take them from their fans in safety. This was the only contact that my wife Evelyn had with the Beatles.

I myself had two more opportunities to meet Paul McCartney. The first time was in Scotland in 1988. I had long been married to Uta and she was pregnant with our first child. The car we had brought along was a Renault, a fairly long car, where we were transporting a canoe which wouldn’t fold, so it didn’t look very elegant. We had came to a town called Campbelltown, to meet our friend Mary who we had worked with at Amnesty international in Jagerberg . Mary remembered visiting us and seeing a picture of Paul, and told us that her mother had worked for him, at his estate which was not far from here. I said to Uta; ‘come on, let’s go and drive to see him’. But she did not want to go, so therefore I drove there alone. On the way, I had a rethink about what I was actually doing. The estate was guaranteed to be a tourist attraction for journalists and fans, so Paul would likely always have bodyguards on duty. If I were to arrive in my completely filthy Renault with a monster of a canoe on the roof, I wouldn’t stand a chance to get past the bodyguards. They would think that a lousy jerk was coming, who has no reason to be here. That I was once a friend of the famous Paul McCartney, they simply wouldn’t believe. The estate was quite a way away, but I stopped the car and really thought this through - should I carry on with this adventure, or would it be best to simply turn around and just go home. The humiliation that I could be turned around and sent away… I would never get over . For a while I fought with this, backward and forward, then I turned the car around and drove back at a snails pace.

So the last opportunity where I met Paul was in 1991 at the world premiere of Get Back, directed by Richard Lester. After the press conference, I met him and his wife Linda in a room at the back of the cinema. In the room with me was Astrid Kircherr, Ulf Kruger and Achim Reichel and his wife, who had won a place at this this meeting in a competition. During our chat, I mentioned my adventure in Scotland. Even though it was embarrassing to talk about this in front of people, I told Paul that I had planned to visit him, and that I was fearful of the consequences, didn’t trust my courage enough and therefore turned around. He said, “Oh for Gods sake Icke, that’s such a shame. It would have been wonderful if you had actually visited me”. It sounded like he really meant it. I’m still angry at myself over this, sometimes I’m too much of a doofus for this world.

#bonithica ask #packyourromanticmind #thanks again!#icke braun #paul and icke #tillthereweretangents

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deadpresidents · 9 months

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I don't read a ton of books about science or scientists, but Katie Spalding's book, Edison's Ghosts: The Untold Weirdness of History's Greatest Geniuses (BOOK | KINDLE | AUDIO), which was released in May, is easily one of the most entertaining books I've read in the past couple of years.

When you're sitting down to read a book by someone with a PhD in mathematics, you don't expect it to be fun from cover-to-cover, let alone flat-out funny. In fact -- and I know that the fine folks at Hachette won't be able to use this in a blurb -- but Dr. Spalding's book is fucking hilarious! And that description is especially fitting because Katie Spalding had to have set some sort of record for creative profanity in a book primarily about science and scientists, an achievement that only makes Edison's Ghosts more entertaining by the chapter.

Speaking of chapters, I can't do justice to Dr. Spalding or Edison's Ghosts -- which was published in Harding's native UK under the even better title of The Limits of Genius: How Some of the World's Greatest Minds Were Surprisingly Stupid -- with a couple of quick paragraphs, so I'm just going to share some of the actual titles of the chapters of the book from the table of contents so you can get a hint of how amazing this book truly is:

1. The Mathematical Cult Leader Pythagoras, and His Incredibly Stupid Death 2. Confucius Was an Ugly Nerd with Low Self-Esteem 3. Never, Ever Hire Leonardo da Vinci 4. Galileo Utterly Fails to Read the Room 6. When René Descartes Got Baked 10. Émilie du Châtelet Cares Not for Your Social Mores, and She Will Fight You in Her Underwear to Prove It 13. Lord Byron, the Patron Saint of Fuckboys 16. John Couch Adams Ignores His Mail, Loses Neptune 18. Charles Darwin: Glutton; Worm Dad; Murderer? 20. Sigmund Freud Used Cocaine So Much He Thought Numbers Wanted to Kill Him 21. Arthur Conan Doyle Gets Pranked So Hard He Claims Fairies Exist 23. Real-Life Supervillain Nikola Tesla Takes the Term 'Pigeon Fancying' a Bit Too Literally 24. Marie Curie Defies All the Odds to Accidentally Poison Both Herself and Thousands of Strangers 25. Albert Einstein: Public Nuisance, Love Rat 29. Yukio Mishima and the Shortest, Gayest Fascist Coup in History 30. NASA Forgets about Women, Toilets and the Metric System

And those are just SOME of the actual chapter titles. If you don't want to read Edison's Ghosts: The Untold Weirdness of History's Greatest Geniuses after that taste, you're as big of an idiot as many of history's geniuses, as Katie Spalding so colorfully reveals in this brilliant book, available now from Hachette Book Group's Little, Brown and Company

#Books #Edison's Ghosts #Katie Spalding #Edison's Ghosts: The Untold Weirdness of History's Greatest Geniuses #Hachette #Little Brown and Company #Hachette Book Group #The Limits of Genius #The Limits of Genius: How Some of the World's Greatest Minds Were Surprisingly Stupid #Book Suggestions #Book Reviews #Book Recommendations #Science #Scientists #Genius #Geniuses #Biographies #Scientist Biographies

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brookstonalmanac · 4 months

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Events 2.19 (before 1950)

#Events

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checkurwindow · 4 years

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i’m so scared

Book: Open Heart

Warnings: It’s a lot longer than my usual fic and much angstier, but hope you enjoy it!

Rating: Teen for light swearing.

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC

Word count: 5200+ I KNOW!! It’s the single longest piece of writing I’ve ever written.

Author’s note: I’m actually really proud of this fic so please reblog and let me know what you thought of it! Here’s my masterlist for more content! I wrote a sequel to this fic too!

One

That’s how old she was when her father left. Her mother knew that he was never going to stay, but that didn’t stop her from breaking down every night for 3 months when she thought her beloved daughter had fallen asleep, when instead she lay awake, wondering what could have happened to make her mother hide her sadness every day, only letting her walls come down when she thought nobody was watching.

She didn’t understand much beyond that, just knowing that her dear old dad had left for a pack of cigarettes and milk, but left behind only a stack of legal papers on the counter while her mother had gone off to work, desperate to give her little girl the best life she could.

Two

The number of people in her family. She and her mom, her mom and her. It was just the two of them, or at least that’s what her mother told her every time she asked. She was fine with that, she loved her mother with all her little heart. She didn’t need anybody else.

Her mom had found a job in Providence, a job that could support both of them, and an apartment that had a reasonable rent. She was scared at first, moving to a “big city”, but her mom assured her that it was a kingdom, and she was the princess.

Three

That was the number of bracelets she had gotten for her fifth birthday. She and her mom had been walking downtown, running some errands, when they walked past a jewelry store and saw the set of three bracelets in the store window.

She had asked her mom if she could have them, even resorting to using her best puppy dog eyes in an attempt to persuade her.

Her mom had told her that they were too expensive, and they didn’t have enough money to buy them. She was disappointed, sulking the rest of the way home.

3 weeks later, her mom returned to the jewelry store, spending almost a month's worth of her salary to buy that special set of bracelets for her daughter. She was beyond excited when she woke up on her birthday and saw that bright pink box next to her bed.

She started showing off those prized possessions of hers to all her friends at school. One was gold with a diamond charm, the other was silver with a ruby charm. The last was bronze with a deep sapphire charm. The bronze one was her favourite, even after Derek Reagan said it was ugly. She told Derek that he was ugly.

Four

That was the grade she was in when she met him.

It was a usual Monday, she was rushing through some unfinished homework when Mr Kingston, her teacher entered, accompanied by a boy who looked just a little taller than her.

Turns out it was a new student, transferring from another school that had just closed down. He was wearing a blue button-down, a big difference from the rest of the boys in her class whose t-shirts were either dinosaurs, or cars, or superheroes. He introduced himself as Ethan Jonah Ramsey while the rest of the class stared blankly at him, before returning to their own friends. Mr Kingston assigned him to the seat next to her.

“Hi, Eefen Jonah!” She waved excitedly at him as he sat down next to her.

“My name is Ethan, Jonah is my middle name,” he corrected.

She made a small ‘o’ with her mouth, thinking for a short while before responding, “I prefer Eef,” she smiled, making him blush slightly.

She took a container out of her bag, opening it to reveal large apple slices. She took one in each hand, careful not to let them slip as she turned back towards him, offering the slice in her left hand.

He slowly took one and smiled, “thanks,” he said when he noticed the set of sparkly jewelry on her wrist, “I like your bracelets.”

Five

That’s how many people were in her friend group by middle school.

First, there was Jackie Varma. She thought Jackie was a little mean when she first met her, she always picked fights with everyone. But she soon learned that she was only mean to people she didn’t like, and she even called Derek stupid when he was mean to her. She asked Jackie if she wanted to have lunch with her after that.

Next was Sienna Trinh. She was nice to everyone, and her first friend at school. She always shared her food, usually sweet treats, with everyone in class, even when Jackie was convinced they were poisonous, she never stopped radiating her positivity.

Bryce Lahela was a flirt. And rightfully so, as every girl in her class had a crush on him. Every girl except her. Bryce was convinced he knew the reason why, and voiced his opinion every chance he got, “She doesn’t have a crush on me because she’s in love with Ramsey, that’s the only reason.”

She would always blush when he said that, which was often seeing how he and Jackie bickered daily about it. Yes, she and Ethan had been best friends since fourth grade. Yet that was all they were. Best friends, never venturing out of that sacred zone.

And then there was Ramsey himself. He had gotten tall, very tall. He was easily the tallest of the group, while she was one of the shortest, barely taller than Sienna. He was a bit gangly and awkward, sometimes very quiet as well, but he was her best friend.

Six

That was the day of the month Ethan was born.

He was turning fifteen, and begged his dad for money instead of his usual books. His dad thought it was strange, as reading had quickly become one of his favorite pastimes, but waved it off as typical teenager behaviour.

A couple days before, she had lost her treasured bracelets. She had taken them off during art class, careful not to spill paint and ruined her favourite set of jewelry. She had rushed off after class because she wanted to get the cafeteria pizza while it was still fresh and hot for all her friends, and accidentally left the bracelets behind. When she came back to get them after lunch, however, they were gone. She cried for the first time in what felt like forever.

Ethan’s dad had done what he had asked of him, giving him cash for his birthday. Upon receiving his present, he rushed up to his room and took his box of savings out from the top of his closet, almost falling off the chair he was climbing to get them.

He hurriedly counted up all his money, adding to the amount he had been saving, ecstatic when he realised he had a little more than what he needed. He quickly ran out, wallet in hand, barely able to tell his dad that he was going out as he sprinted out the front door.

He finally made it to the jewelry store that, after much research, he knew carried the same set of bracelets as the ones his best friend had lost. The attendant asked what a young man like himself was doing buying such an expensive set of jewelry, teasing about if using all his hard-earned cash by doing extra chores was really worth it for a girl.

He smiled widely, heart racing from the sprint over, but nodded rapidly, forking over the money he had planned to use to buy a new set of books. When he got home, he put the shiny new bracelets in a box, doing his best to wrap them in bright red wrapping paper, her favourite colour.

At school the next day, he got in early and slipped the box into her desk drawer before she arrived.

“Eef,” that’s what she called him when something big was happening, “you won’t believe what I found!” she squealed to him after class.

She told him all about the bracelets she found at her desk, while he smiled and nodded, telling her he was happy for her. Jackie made eye contact with him and gave him a knowing look, his eyes darting around the room when he realised, but she didn’t say a word about it after that.

Seven

The number of med schools she applied to. They all applied to med schools.

She applied to Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Princeton, Brown, NYU, and Johns Hopkins.

She was accepted to all of them, which was more than impressive. Her mother had never been prouder of her.

Ethan never told her, but he applied to the same schools as her, all seven. He got into all of them except Harvard, so hoped to every powerful being up beyond the night sky that she wouldn’t accept their invitation. He wasn’t ready to lose her, not yet, maybe not ever.

After spending countless coffee-fueled nights sorting through and weighing the pros and cons of each school, she finally decided on Johns Hopkins. Ethan did too, after he determined that they had the best professors there. At least, that’s what he told her when she asked how he decided.

Sienna, one of her closer friends in the group, was her shoulder to cry on if Ethan wasn’t around, which was rare but had happened a couple times throughout the years. Sienna decided to go to Princeton, along with her boyfriend, Wayne, or was it Dwayne? Nobody really knew as he never bothered to show up most of the time when they reluctantly invited him per Sienna’s request.

The rest of their friend group split up, each going to a different med school. They made a pact one drunken night the summer before they all headed out to med schools all across the country.

They promised to meet up every chance they could, even if it meant driving in the middle of the night through storm and snow. Jackie insisted it was way too cheesy when Sienna half sobbed, half stated it while they sat on Bryce’s rooftop, bottles of alcohol and snacks surrounding them, but in the end, the tears made Jackie agree.

Ethan helped her pack for college, something she assured him she could easily do herself but he insisted anyway. He helped move her things into her dorm, something he hadn’t yet done for himself but he didn’t care. They met her roommate, Grace Young, who upon first seeing them, mistakenly assumed they were dating. She quickly corrected Grace, properly introducing Ethan as her best friend.

Eight

That’s the number of years it took for Ethan to realise he was in love with her.

Why it had taken him so long, he didn’t have a single clue. He should’ve realised it sooner, but now he couldn’t not see it. Ethan was completely sure he was mind-blowingly in love with her.

Why hadn’t he noticed the first day he met her, when she immediately shared her apple slices with him, making him feel welcome and accepted unlike most of the class. Sure, he had figured out long ago that she was beautiful, but he never thought it was love.

Why hadn’t he noticed it all through middle school, when Bryce mercilessly teased the both of them about it. “Damn,” he thought, “I hate it when Bryce is right.”

And why had he not realised it in high school, when he spent all his savings he earned over countless summers to replace the bracelets that she lost? When instead of bullying her, Derek Reagan started flirting with her, which made Ethan so angry when he saw it happen, but ecstatic when she turned him down in front of the whole school, citing all the times he had bullied and picked on her. Friends don’t do that for each other. But she was more than just a friend, wasn’t she?

Ethan should’ve known when he followed her 370 miles away from their hometown just to be at the same med school as her. Sure, it was a great school, but that wasn’t the reason he was there. He was there for her. You don’t just do that for a friend you like or even have a crush on. No, he loved her.

It was quite ridiculous, really. How had she gotten him wrapped around her finger, and without him even realising for so many years? Ethan knew he was helpless to her charms, he would do anything she wanted him to do, he would’ve followed her to the ends of the earth if she had asked.

But did she know? That was the thought that circled around his head during sleepless nights as he tossed and turned in his bed. Did she know how weak she made him? How helpless he was when it came to anything that had to do with her?

He quickly decided that she couldn’t have known. She wouldn’t have let him spend all his birthday money and savings on her, let him follow her to med school, let him torture himself all these years if she knew it was all for her.

Nine

That’s how many apartment listings she had to choose from.

She sat in the coffee shop near the hospital reading over the listings. Now that they had started their residency, Grace had been matched with another hospital and moved in with fellow interns there.

This one was too expensive, that one would be too loud. She had no idea which one to choose. And to add to her troubles, she had no roommate. There was no way she could find a reasonable place in downtown Boston without a roommate, it was impossible.

That’s when Ethan walked through the door, his hair combed to perfection as usual.

“Ethan, thank god you’re here. Come help me pick out an apartment,” she pleaded, showing him pictures of all the listings.

He shrugged his jacket off as he sat down next to her, inhaling the comforting scent of hers he had grown to love over all these years that wafted through the air.

“This one looks nice,” he pointed to one of the listings, “barely a block away from the hospital, great lighting, tons of restaurants around, and the rent would be affordable for two people.”

“I know, it’s perfect but I can’t afford it,” Ethan frowned and looked up at her in confusion.

She let out a defeated sigh, “I haven’t found a roommate yet, and there’s no way I can afford that place all on my own,” she admitted and turned back to the other listings in search of a cheaper place, the frown still evident on her face.

“I’ll be your roommate,” he mentally cursed himself the second those words escaped from his mouth. He had just offered to be roommates with his best friend that he just happened to be hopelessly in love with. What could possibly go wrong?

His regrets immediately ceased to exist when her face lit up, full of delight. She threw her arms around him gratefully, hugging him as tightly as she could, and he knew every single moment would be worth it for her, “thank you so much, Eef!”

Ten

That’s the number of times he had tried to tell her.

The first time was when she came home after a bad day. It was pouring rain outside, and she had walked in completely drenched and in a mess of tears. After many attempts on Ethan’s part to try to get her to tell him what was wrong, he eventually gave up and stuck to comforting her instead. As she cried, soaking his clothes with not only her tears but the rain her clothes and hair had absorbed on the way in, he wanted nothing more than to tell her how much he loved her.

Then there was the time she convinced him to bake a cake together on their day off. He had accidentally gotten cake batter on her nose, and she laughed as she smeared some of it across his face, which resulted in a war using their leftover ingredients still on the counter. He never thought she was more beautiful than she was right there, and was tempted to risk it all. But he never did.

The third time was over the phone, he had gone home but she was still at Edenbrook, filling in patient charts when he received a call from her.

“Hey, Ethan.”

“Hey, what’s the call for?”

Her voice was momentarily shaky on the other end, it made his heart rate go up significantly, “I just wanted to tell you...hi,” was what she said after a long pause.

“You called just to say hi?” he laughed.

“Yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up before he had a chance to respond.

The next time was when they watched a movie. “Maybe a romantic movie would help,” he thought to himself as he loaded up The Fault In Our Stars. He was wrong. The movie only made her cry again, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell her then.

The next time, he was determined to finally do it. He stopped by the florist on the way home, picking up a bouquet of her favourite flowers, bougainvilleas. He even rehearsed the exact words he was going to say when he professed his love to her while walking back. But he opened the door only to be met with her wearing a stunning blue sundress that left him was speechless. Only she had that effect on him.

The sixth time was in the middle of the night, around 1 am. Ethan couldn’t sleep, his head was clouded with thoughts of her and her alone. He convinced himself he was going to tell her. Yes, he was going to march into her room and tell her. He got up to tell her, but instead heard her throwing up when he approached the door. He spent the rest of the night comforting her and making sure she was okay.

Then he decided he couldn’t do it himself. He called up Sienna, who had long since figured out who Ethan was in love with. Sienna actually laughed when he had asked her to tell her on his behalf. She thought it was a joke. When she realised he was being serious, her lighthearted behavior dissolved, instead, she firmly told him that he had to do it himself, and promptly hung up the phone.

Eighth time’s the charm, right? Wrong. He thought of writing a letter, “it’s easier this way,” he thought. All he had to do was write his feelings down on a piece of paper and hand her the letter, easy. He then realised that it was far too impersonal. He knew her, hell, he spent more than half his life with her. And that’s why he knew that if he ever did it, she’d want to hear it in person from him directly.

Then he tried to tell her as they walked back from Edenbrook after a long shift. It was a typical Boston day, and Ethan decided there was no time like the present to tell her. He had every intention to tell her, he really did. But she received an important phone call that she needed to take just as he was about to open his mouth.

Finally, he decided that he had had enough. He wasn’t going to let anything come between his plans to tell her the truth for a second longer than he needed to. He planned a delightful picnic for the both of them. They headed to a nearby park that she loved on a cool but sunny day, it was a perfect day. And that was what stopped him from telling her this time.

They were having so much fun, what if by telling her the truth, he ruined the day. What if he ruined their entire friendship, years worth of time spent together wasted and down the drain all because he was so selfish? What if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings, and that was the last good memory of her that he had? He gave up trying to tell her after that.

Eleven

That’s how many times she tried to tell him.

The first time was immediately after she found out. It was a shocking discovery, and she was lost as to what to do with the new information. It didn’t exactly help that it had been an awful day. On her way back to the apartment, it started to rain heavily. A terrible end to a terrible day, really. When she finally made it indoors, she instantly fell into his arms. She knew she could’ve told him there, but she didn’t.

She decided that they needed to be doing something more fun and lighthearted, so she suggested baking, and was surprised when he actually agreed. But seeing him there, covered in cake batter, who knows how much flour, and grinning at her, she wanted to keep this memory.

After feeling guilty for not telling him that day, she called him while taking a break from charts.

“Hey, Ethan,” she said, building herself up to finally tell him.

“Hey, what’s the call for?”

Her voice quivered, the nerves building up, “I just wanted to tell you,” she decided it was too much, she’d tell him another time, “...hi.”

‘You called just to say hi?” she heard his laugh on the other end.

She closed her eyes tightly, embarrassed, “yeah. I gotta go now, bye,” she hung up as quickly as she could.

The next time she tried to tell him was during movie night, but the bastard just had to pick The Fault In Our Stars. Since when did Ethan even start voluntarily watching romantic movies anyway? And he couldn’t have picked any other movie. She spent a good part of the rest of the night cursing the tears that choked back all the words she wanted to say.

Then she was going to tell him when he got back to the apartment. She spent so long in the bathroom practicing what she was going to say to him in the mirror. Time and time again, pacing in her favourite blue sundress to calm her nerves as she recited the words back to herself. But then he showed up with a bouquet of her favorite flowers. He had always been so sweet like that to her. She really didn’t deserve him, and she hated herself for not telling her then.

At 1 in the morning, she felt sick to her stomach, and rushed into her bathroom. She threw up all of her dinner from hours before, no doubt looking awful while doing so. Then Ethan showed up and spent the entire night comforting her. She knew she could’ve ended her own torture right then and there, and she was planning to. Up until she fell asleep on his shoulder.

Maybe she didn’t have to be the one to tell him? And so she drove an hour back to Providence to see her mom, seeking advice. There must’ve been a better way to tell him, a way that wouldn’t be putting her through so much agony. Her mom only hugged her tightly. She told her that she was the only one who could make the decision to tell him and wished her the best of luck.

She sat at her desk and attempted to write a letter, but how could you write someone a letter to tell them about such a subject? There was no way words on a piece of paper could explain how she felt. It wasn’t fair to Ethan, it had to be done in person.

And then there was the time they were walking back home from the hospital. She would’ve told him there, she should’ve told him there, but she didn’t. Instead, she received a phone call. She knew exactly what the call would be about even before she tapped the ‘answer’ icon.

The next was the time he set up a picnic for the both of them. It was a perfect day, it was the perfect time to tell him, but that was the moment she realised she loved him. She just wasn’t willing to stain the moment she realised she loved her best friend with her horrible news.

Finally, there was the time she actually told him the truth. It was cold, but she asked him to go up to the rooftop with her. He agreed, and they made their way up to the empty rooftop garden. They stood in silence as they looked out at the city around them, the city lights glittering like diamonds in the dark, or shooting stars in the night sky. Ethan tried to tell her first.

“I love—”

“Ethan, I’m dying.”

Twelve

That’s how many months are in a year. That’s how many inches are in a foot. That’s how many signs there are in the zodiac. That’s how many days of Christmas there are.

That wasn’t how many malignant tumours she had, Ethan refused to believe it.

Well, as he soon learned, that there were most likely more than 12 tumours in the person he grew up with, the person he loves, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, the person who had much less than a lifetime to live. There were twelve tumours over a month ago, and she hadn’t told him.

He was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t know his best friend had stage 4 pancreatic cancer. It was needless to say he felt like absolute shit. She had end-stage cancer and he, a doctor, couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it.

He waited until he was out of her sight before he let all his emotions out, he asked her if she could go back in the apartment and leave him on the roof to process what had happened, she did.

He knew all about pancreatic cancer, he knew that the symptoms usually don’t show up until it was too late, he knew that it would’ve already spread all across her body. Yet, it didn’t stop him from completely breaking down after she went back down.

He sobbed, he sobbed until all the tears were gone, then he shouted, he shouted at the night sky, shouting at every being up there, screaming at them, asking how they could possibly curse the most perfect person in the world with an untreatable tumour.

Once he was done, once his tear ducts were dry and his throat was hoarse, he returned to the apartment, his eyes red and his throat sore. He quietly crept into her room, seeing those teary eyes of hers that broke his heart, that made every cell in his body hurt and scream. He wordlessly climbed into her bed and wrapped his arms around her. That was how they spent the rest of the night, him silently holding her in his arms, not willing to ever let go.

She fell asleep fast, she was tired, she was always tired nowadays. He was the opposite, his mind racing. He spent the entire night hating himself for not realising sooner, for missing all the clues. All the clues that were right in front of his face this whole time.

He remembered the first time he tried to tell her when she came home upset, was that when she learned the news? He thought about how she reacted to the movie they watched, he finally realised why she was crying so much more. Then there was the night she threw up, he cursed himself for missing that. It had been so obvious. But he hated himself the most for not spending all his time with her when he had the chance.

Now as he sat in the hospital room, his head in his hands as she slept soundly, all he could do was wait. Wait for the cancer to take her from her friends, her family, from him. That’s all he could do now, wait. Ethan had been in the hospital for a week now, she’d wanted to be at Edenbrook so that he could see her during his breaks, but he hadn’t worked since the day he found out.

He only went back to their apartment to take a shower every now and then, and even then he sprinted to and fro. They didn’t know when her time would be up, it could be hours, days, weeks, or even months. And he had to be around when she ran out of time, he would hate himself even more if he wasn’t.

He had called all of their friends, and they all took turns showing up at her room to see her. Bryce showed up with a gigantic stuffed teddy bear that didn’t fail to make her laugh. Jackie came with a million stories about her horrible intern, attendings, and patients alike. Sienna came in everyday bearing fresh home-cooked food for her.

His dad and her mom showed up most days too, providing words of encouragement for not only her, but him as well. They both figured out one way or another how he felt about her, and they knew how hard it was for him.

Ethan was always at the hospital, but limited the time he spent in her room. He couldn’t stand being at her bedside, watching her groan and moan in pain as he was completely fine. Everything just felt too real for him.

“Doctor Ramsey, she’s asking for you,” a nurse said. He looked up and nodded. His feet felt heavy, like they were made of bricks as he approached her room. He pushed the door open, and his heart dropped at the sight before him.

She was staring back at him, her eyes hadn’t changed a single bit. The rest of her didn’t share the same fate as her eyes. She was thinner, her face pale and gaunt, she looked exhausted. The hospital gown looked as if it was wearing her, and not the other way around. And despite all of that, she was still beautiful in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said in a whispered tone.

He pressed his lips together, choking back the tears that were beginning to form. He couldn’t handle this.

“You look awful,” she teased, which earned a pitiful laugh from him as he wiped the sides of his eyes where tears were moments away from falling.

She moved to one side of the hospital bed to make room for him. He hesitated for a moment, afraid that he would hurt her some way, but he eventually laid down beside her. Her frail frame clung to him, and he felt the dreadfully familiar feeling of her tears staining his shirt.

“I’m so scared, Eef,” her use of the enchanting nickname she gave him that he wholeheartedly loved made the tears fall from his eyes as he closed them tightly, holding back a sob.

He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t find the right words, so he just hugged her as tightly as he could without hurting her and pressed his lips against her forehead. After all, what were you supposed to say to someone whose life you would trade your own with when they’re dying?

Was he supposed to lie and say “everything’s going to be okay”? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her any longer after all the wasted time he spent lying about his true feelings. No, he would hold her. He would hold her and love her until he couldn’t love her anymore.

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hmsjiara · 4 years

Text

pretty hot for a pogue » jiara

gif credits to @jackpearcsn

The words slip past Rafe’s lips without him having to think, a taunt that he knows will hit JJ where it hurts— right in the heart.

“Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue.”

Because they have a history, him and JJ, and those words call back to a comment he’d made at the Boneyard a year ago, immediately followed by JJ punching him in the face.

So, Rafe knows what’s going to happen next before it does: JJ goes still, and then he snaps.

—

or jj and rafe have a history, and kiara carrera just happens to be at the center of it.

trigger warnings: roofies, implied/attempted sexual assault, panic attacks, brief mentions of abuse.

read it under the cut or here on ao3!

Normally, Rafe actively tries to avoid paying attention to the Pogues. Because they’re not worth his time, and it just gets depressing after a while, if he’s being honest.

But a few of them, like JJ Maybank, have gotten under his skin.

And his dad always says that you should know your enemy better than you know yourself and despite what he thinks, Rafe listens to him, so he pays attention— knows how JJ moves in a fight, how his fists clench and his entire body tenses whenever someone mentions his father.

He also knows that above all, JJ is loyal to John B, like a dog is to it’s owner, so when he spots him at Midsummers with a split lip and a suit that doesn’t fit quite right, it’s easy to guess that John B isn’t too far away.

Then Rafe has JJ cornered, just like he’s always wanted, trapped in a headlock and with no friends to help him, but before he can give him the beating he deserves, a security guard walks in and interrupts their fun.

But it doesn’t matter, because Rafe already knows exactly what he needs to say to make JJ throw himself back into the fray.

The words slip past Rafe’s lips without him having to think, a taunt that he knows will hit JJ where it hurts— right in the heart.

“Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue.”

Because they have a history, him and JJ, and those words call back to a comment he’d made at the Boneyard a year ago, immediately followed by JJ punching him in the face.

So, Rafe knows what’s going to happen next before it does: JJ goes still, and then he snaps.

•••

The first time JJ sees Kiara with Rafe, he’s working a shift for Heyward on Figure Eight.

It’s during that strange period of time where Kiara’s drifting away from the Pogues but is still technically their friend— her name pops up in group chat sometimes, and she goes surfing and parties at the Boneyard with them, but it’s not the same.

It’s different, the kind of different that means someone is about to leave, like how JJ’s mom had snuck into his room when she’d thought he was asleep and hugged him before she left and never came back.

Kiara doesn’t do that, in fact she barely acknowledges the new divide between her and the Pogues, but he gets the message loud and clear.

So JJ starts to pull away, distances himself from Kiara in the way he never had the foresight to do with his mother.

It’s hard, and he gets this strange ache in his chest whenever he sees her, an arm around Sarah’s shoulders at the Boneyard or laughing with Kelce in an Instagram story, has to remind himself that Kiara can be friends with whoever she damn well pleases.

And that’s true for the most part, except when that someone is Rafe Cameron.

Because Rafe’s the ringleader of the Kooks, he’s a rich, disgusting slime ball (Kiara’s words, not his), and JJ has no idea why she would even associate with him.

But there she is: laughing with Rafe’s arm thrown over her shoulders, rolling her eyes and shoving at his chest when he leans in to whisper something in her ear.

Kiara looks good, she always does these days, wearing a crop top and the shortest shorts JJ has ever seen on her, having swapped her usual mud-stained converse for wedged sandals. But the worst part is that he’s seen Kiara fake a smile before, and that isn’t it.

No, this one’s real.

And fine, it hurts a little, because it’s easier to pretend that it’s not personal when Kiara’s at some fancy party at the Island Club or having a girls night with Sarah, but this isn’t a Kook thing— it’s a Kiara and Rafe thing.

JJ’s not sure why it makes him so mad, why he curls his hands into fists and storms away, kicks a dumpster when he’s out of their line of sight.

It’s not until later, when he’s three beers in and icing his foot in the hammock at the Chateau, that the word jealous comes to mind.

But he ignores it, because it feels hot and bitter and dangerous, and JJ has enough to worry about as is. He doesn’t need to fight Kiara’s battle for her, and if she wants to ditch him and the Pogues, then she’ll have to figure out for herself that Rafe is a disgusting piece of shit.

If she doesn’t want JJ in her life, he’ll stay the hell out of it.

•••

JJ thought pulling away from Kiara first would make it hurt less when she inevitably abandoned them.

He was wrong.

It’s mostly subconscious, but his sighting of her and Rafe speeds up the process a little, and he starts calling Kiara out on her bullshit more. John B and Pope are pissed too, but they’re too chicken to actually say anything to her, so it kind of all falls on JJ.

It culminates into a screaming match at the Chateau between him and Kiara, and of course JJ’s mouth gets away from him, so it ends with her slapping him in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gets in her car and drives away.

John B and Pope try to reason with him, tell JJ to go after her and apologize, but he just grabs a beer and collapses into the hammock, his cheek still stinging from where Kiara had hit him.

He’s angry for a while after that, enough that John B and Pope learn not to bring up Kiara’s name unless they want JJ to punch something and potentially break his hand.

JJ’s not quite sure what he had planned to do when he saw Kiara next, kind of builds it up in his mind as this big confrontation, so it’s honestly anticlimactic when he runs into her at the gas station one afternoon.

Kiara’s basket is filled with a few miscellaneous items— those organic granola bars she likes, a few bags of chips, economically-friendly sunscreen, and a pack of cloth headbands. JJ doesn’t have a basket, but there’s a stolen candy bar in his pocket.

He tries not to think about how when he swiped it from the shelves, Kiara wasn’t there to take it from him. She used to have an annoying habit of paying for anything JJ tried to steal, which took all the fun out of it.

Her hair’s down, and she’s not wearing makeup like the last time JJ saw her, with mascara staining her cheeks as he’d screamed at her, but she’s wearing a high-waisted jean skirt and a cropped tank top. And don’t get him wrong, she looks good, but it’s... not Kiara.

Or maybe it’s just not the Kiara he’d known. She seems like an entirely different person these days.

But the strangest part is now that she’s standing in front of him, staring at JJ like she’s worried he’s about to start screaming at her in the middle of the store, he’s not even angry anymore.

“Uh... hey,” JJ says when it’s clear she’s not going to speak first, which he realizes is an epically lame greeting, but what else is he supposed to say?

Hey, I’ve been so pissed at you that I didn’t even realize how much I missed you, and now that you’re standing in front of me I kind of just want to beg you to come back?

No. JJ can’t say that, not if he wants to keep his dignity.

“Hey,” Kiara repeats, though she still seems hesitant, as if she thinks JJ is luring her into a trap. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. The truth is that John B’s at work and he doesn’t want to go back to the Chateau alone since there’s still a giant Big-John-sized-hole there, and he can’t go home either, so he’s here. But he’s not about to tell Kiara that. “You?”

“The usual,” she says, mirroring his shrug. JJ almost reminds her that he doesn’t know what the usual for her is anymore, but he bites his tongue. “Sarah’s having a party tonight, I was just... grabbing supplies.”

JJ just nods, because the mention of the Cameron’s seems to automatically reinstate the divide between them. He wasn’t invited to Sarah’s party, wouldn’t have gone if he had been, and he ignores the part of him that wants Kiara to offer to take him and the Pogues with her like she used to. But she doesn’t, and just like that, he remembers that they’re not friends anymore.

Kiara must notice the closed-off expression on his face, because she bites her lip like she always does when she’s upset and slips past him without a word, heading for the register.

JJ’s planning to let her go, but then he remembers how Rafe had seemed so comfortable with her the other day, and he grabs Kiara’s arm as she passes.

She whirls around, glances at JJ and then at the hand on her wrist, and he lets go immediately, shakes his hand a little to get rid of the strange, lingering sensation where Kiara’s skin had touched his.

“Sorry,” he says, trying to recall what the point of him stopping her was. “I know it’s none of my business but... you’re not going with Rafe tonight, are you?”

“What?”

JJ hesitates, because he knows how Kiara gets about people trying to protect her, but he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t say something. “It’s just... I saw you two the other day, and it looked like there was maybe something going on there. And I know you can take care of yourself, but I want to make sure you’re not making a mistake—”

“Okay, I’m sorry, you’re following me now? What? Can’t trust a Kook?” Kiara snaps, hands on her hips and fire in her eyes, and JJ starts backtracking immediately.

“No, that’s not— I was working a shift for Heyward, okay? And you and Rafe were there, and I know how much of an asshole he can be, so—”

“It’s like you said, I can take care of myself,” she hisses, cutting him off again. “And you’re right, it’s none of your business, JJ. So stay out of it.”

“I’m just trying to help,” he tells her, fighting to keep his voice level. JJ doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to care— it’s clear that Kiara doesn’t. “You can play Kook all you want, Kiara. But you don’t have to do it with him.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kiara practically growls, her gaze burning a hole in JJ’s chest. “Rafe’s not all bad, you know? And he’s much nicer when he’s sober.”

“Wow,” JJ scoffs, because since when was that the kind of bar Kiara was setting for her friends? “Sounds like the man of your dreams. I hope you two are happy together, Carrera.”

“It’s not—” Kiara starts to say, but then she stops, bites her lips and shakes her head. “Nevermind. The point is that I’m handling it, okay? You don’t have to worry.”

“Right. Sure.”

After, when she’s gone, JJ regrets not calling after her. Because he genuinely didn’t want to start a fight, and he’d meant what he said. Rafe was bad news, and while JJ knew Kiara could handle herself, the idea of him doing anything to her made his stomach turn.

Still, he hopes that he’s wrong— that Rafe will leave Kiara be, and that there’s nothing going on between them. He hopes that she’s telling the truth when she says she has it all under control.

Because JJ’s not sure what he’d do if she doesn’t.

•••

JJ’s sprawled across the pullout couch at the Chateau, John B already passed out in his bedroom and Pope asleep on the couch outside, a freshly lit joint in hand, when his phone rings.

Kiara’s name pops up on the screen, and he considers not answering, but there’s this strange pit in his stomach that won’t go away, so he picks up.

Later, he refuses to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t.

Because Kiara’s not the one who answers the phone.

“Hello?“

It’s a girl’s voice, one he doesn’t know, and JJ is already leaning forward, forcing himself to focus. He tries not to jump to conclusions— it’s a party, Kiara’s probably drunk, she might have lost her phone. It’s possible that nothing’s wrong.

JJ doesn’t realize he hasn’t answered yet until the girl starts repeating herself. “Hello? Is someone there?”

“Oh, yeah,” he stammers, stamping the joint out on the coffee table. “Who is this? Where’s Kiara?”

“I’m Callie,” she says, her tone firm. “Who are you?”

“JJ,” he tells her, his voice short and to the point, because she’s not telling him where Kie is and he’s starting to get worried. “Where’s Kiara? Why do you have her phone?”

“You’re her friend?” she asks, still sounding suspicious, like she doesn’t quite trust him.

“Yes, I’m her friend,” JJ snaps, even though that hasn’t been true as of late. It doesn’t matter— he just needs to know that Kiara’s okay, and then he can hang up the phone. “Is she okay? Why isn’t she answering her phone?”

“Something happened,” the girl says, her voice wavering slightly, and JJ’s heart jumps to his throat. A dozen different scenarios are running through his head, none of them good. “She’s okay, but she needs a ride. Can you come get her?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation, springing to his feet and stumbling towards the door, grabbing the keys to his bike off the counter as he goes. “I’m leaving now. Be there in ten.”

“We’re at the Cameron’s place. It’s—”

“I know where it is,” JJ tells her, winding the keys around his fingers to distract himself from the panic coursing through his veins as he runs to his bike and shoves the keys into the ignition. “Is she there? Can I talk to her?”

The girl seems to hesitate, but then there’s a crackle of static as she hands the phone to Kiara.

Her voice filters into the air as JJ hits the gas, softer than he’s ever heard it. “JJ?”

He has the phone off speaker and pressed to his ear in a heartbeat. “Kie? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I can’t—” Kiara breaks off, her voice cracking, and JJ’s grip on the phone is so tight that he’s surprised the screen doesn’t shatter. “Everything’s fuzzy, and I can’t move. JJ, I can’t move, I can’t—”

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, fighting to keep his voice steady. “You’re okay. Just hold on, okay? I’m right here.”

“JJ, I’m scared,” she whimpers, still struggling to breathe, and JJ’s heart breaks a little at the confession. Because Kiara doesn’t get scared, she’s the bravest person he knows, and if she’s admitting it to him of all people, then it’s bad. “Can you come?”

“I’m on my way.”

•••

On his way to the Cameron’s house, JJ drives the fastest he’s ever driven in his life.

He doesn’t even bother checking the speed limit as he roars through the empty streets. It’s well past midnight, so the lights are out on the Cut, but he eventually turns into a neighborhood with trimmed hedges and streetlights that don’t flicker, and he knows he’s in the right place.

His hands are white on the handlebars as he screeches to a halt in the driveway, sliding between two shiny, spotless sports cars and yanking the keys from the ignition.

JJ’s phone is already in his hands as he fires a text off to Kiara’s phone, praying that the girl is still with her.

JJ: Where are you?

Kiara: By the bushes at the front of the house.

JJ is moving immediately, shoving his phone in his pocket as he heads towards the hedges. He finally spots them— a girl with long brown hair wearing a leather jacket, leaning over Kiara, who’s lying back against a tree with her eyes closed.

His throat goes tight at the sight, and there’s a moment where he wants to run away and pretend that this isn’t happening, but then Kiara groans, shifting away from the girls hands, and JJ forces himself to calm down. He can deal with his own emotions later, once he knows that Kie’s okay.

“What happened?” JJ demands as he approaches, the girl (Callie, he remembers) jumping up and turning to face him. “What’s wrong with her?”

Even as she opens her mouth to explain, JJ doesn’t take his attention away from Kie. She’s wearing jeans shorts and a tank top, her skin pale and gleaming with sweat. If he didn’t know better, she might just be some girl who’d partied too hard and passed out drunk.

But he does know better, because Kiara can’t seem to keep her eyes open and she’s whimpering under her breath, and it starts to remind JJ of himself when his dad is beating on him, and then he really wants to run away but he knows that he can’t.

“I think someone drugged her drink,” Callie says, as if this is normal. He guesses that maybe it is, if you’re a girl, and that only pisses JJ off more. “I found her before anything happened, but she’s still pretty out of it.”

“Who?” JJ asks, struggling to keep his voice level. Because he thinks he knows, and if Kie didn’t look like she was about to pass out at any moment, he’d already be inside that house beating the shit out of the bastard who’d done this to her.

Callie must notice the dark, haunted look in his eyes, and her expression is grim as she says, “I think you know.”

JJ nods, grinds his teeth and curls his hands into fists to try and curb the rage that’s lighting every single bone in his body on fire.

Rafe.

The next time he saw that rich, sadistic fucker... well the island’s golden boy would be walking out of that fight with a few less teeth and lot more broken bones.

“Hey,” Callie says, her voice sharp and her eyes on JJ’s clenched fists. “You good to take her home?”

His attention shifts back to Kiara, and all of the righteous anger vanishes from JJ’s body at sight of her lying on the ground, eyes half-closed and entirely unable to defend herself. And he knows that no one deserves this, but Kie is the kind of person who’s meant to be laughing after riding the perfect wave or screaming for justice at some climate change rally. This... this was just wrong.

JJ takes a step closer, crouches down on the ground beside her, hyper-aware of the fact that Callie is watching his every move and will knee him in the balls if he tries anything.

“Kie?” He whispers, his voice so quiet he wonders if she can even hear it, careful to keep his distance so that he doesn’t spook her. “Kie, can you hear me?”

Kiara stirs a little, eyes fluttering open to look at him, her gaze still hazy from the drugs and the alcohol. “JJ?”

She says his name like she’s not quite sure if he’s real or not, and her voice is so quiet and weak and un-Kie like that he can’t help but reach out and touch her hand, just to make sure she’s still there.

JJ doesn’t realize he still hasn’t said anything until Kiara lifts her head, slowly, as if it’s an effort to even move, and squints at him. “JJ, is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he murmurs, taking Kie’s hand in his, running his thumb over her skin as she flinches and tries to pull away. He thinks about letting go, but then her grip tightens ever so slightly and he decides to stay right where he is. “I’m here.”

“I’m scared,” she whispers, an echo of her words on the phone, and his heart breaks just a little bit more. “Can we go home?”

Home. JJ thinks he knows what Kiara means, can see the real question in her eyes without her having to say it.

“Yeah, Kie, we can go home,” he says, trying not to sound too shaken, because the last thing Kiara needs is someone freaking out on her right now.

She seems to relax at that, leans back against the tree and closes her eyes. JJ eases an arm around her waist and lifts her into his arms, and Kiara automatically buries her head in the crook of his neck, her soft puffs of breath hot against his skin.

Callie follows them to his bike, still studying JJ as if she’s waiting for him to do something untrustworthy. He lets Kiara down, supporting the majority of her weight as she leans into him, her hands curled in the fabric of his t-shirt. If this was any other situation, JJ would probably be over the moon, but Kiara clinging to him because she’s scared is a lot less enjoyable than he would have imagined it to be.

“Is she—” he hesitates, not wanting to voice the thought out loud. “Do I need to take her to the hospital, or something?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Callie says, her gaze soft as she studies Kiara. “I’ve seen this happen before, she just needs to sleep it off.”

“Okay,” JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Uh... thanks, I guess. For looking after her.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she tells him, giving him a small smile. “You were the first person on her speed dial, you know? Are you her boyfriend?”

”I’m her friend,” JJ says, and his voice may be a little too sharp given the nature of the question, but Kiara’s practically unconscious in his arms and he decides to give himself a break.

The look Callie gives him is a little too knowing for his liking, like she can tell the kind of thoughts JJ has about his friend at times.

But then she smiles at him, tilts her head and gestures towards Kiara. “You seem like a good friend, JJ. She’s lucky to have you.”

JJ doesn’t say what he’s really thinking, which is that if he was really a good friend, he wouldn’t have let Kiara go to the party with Rafe in the first place.

Instead, he just nods and returns Callie’s grim smile, climbs onto the bike and helps Kiara onto the back of it. She falls limp against him, wraps her arms around JJ’s waist and buries her face in his t-shirt.

“You good to hold on?” He asks, turning his head to look at her.

Kiara nods against him, as if she’s too exhausted to even talk, and she’s quiet as JJ starts the engine and pulls out of the driveway.

They don’t speak until they’re back at the Chateau, when JJ guides Kiara off of the bike and into the house, a hand on her back to keep her steady.

Her eyes are slightly less hazy now, but she’s still swaying on her feet, and JJ keeps an arm around her waist as they make their way to the pullout. Kiara’s looking around at the Chateau, her gaze almost wary, and he knows it must be weird for her to be here after everything that’s happened.

The lights are still on, but John B’s bedroom door is closed, and the couch where Pope had fallen asleep on was now empty. He must have gone home.

JJ makes sure Kie is settled on the pullout before grabbing her a bottle of water and some Advil for her inevitable hangover. When he returns, she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floorboards with a blank expression on her face.

“Kie?” He asks, pausing in the hallway, scanning her for any obvious signs of harm. “You okay?”

It’s a stupid question, because of course she’s not okay, but he wants her to say yes so badly that it just slips out. Even then, Kiara just blinks at him, as if she’s struggling to process reality.

“Kie?” JJ tries again, trying to keep himself from panicking as he takes a step forward and crouches down in front of her. “Can you hear me?”

He places a hand on her knee, but Kiara automatically flinches away from him and curls in on herself. JJ raises his hands immediately, cursing himself for even trying to touch her, because he knows exactly what it’s like to feel entirely out of control of your own body.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low and his movements slow as he sets the water on the side table. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, Kie. I would never hurt you, I swear.”

That seems to trigger some semblance of recognition in her, because Kiara lifts her head and looks at JJ with wide eyes, as if she had just noticed he was there in the room with her. “JJ?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he reassures her, still keeping a safe distance away. “You’re at the Chateau, you’re safe. I promise.”

His words are apparently exactly what Kiara needs to let go, because her shoulders immediately sag and she buries her head in her hands. She’s shaking again, and JJ thinks about letting her calm herself down on her own, but then she lets out a choked sob and he decides to screw it.

He reaches out and takes her hand, ready to move away at the slightest sign of discomfort on Kiara’s part, but the moment his fingers brush hers she lets out a low, trembling breath and falls into him. Their hands wind together, and he gives hers a firm squeeze, a silent I’m here, I’ve got you.

JJ knows from experience that touch like this can be both grounding and painful, so he doesn’t expect Kiara to want him near her, but she inches closer and leans her head on his shoulder, the noises coming from her something between gasps and sobs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, slowly moving a hand up to card through her hair. “You’re safe Kie, I promise. Just breathe, okay?”

Miraculously, his words actually seem to calm her down, and JJ starts rubbing circles on Kiara’s back as her breathing returns to normal.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs into his shoulder a few moments later, before JJ can tell her she doesn’t have to apologize. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no,” he says, a little harsher than he intends to, because the idea of Kiara apologizing for any of this makes JJ sick to his stomach. “Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, Kie. None of it is.”

“Maybe it is,” she counters, and JJ has to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming. “If I had just listened to you, none of this would have happened—”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he tells her, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “I shouldn’t have been such an ass about it, I screwed up.”

“No, you didn’t,” she says, her voice firmer than he had expected it to be. “You came. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” JJ whispers with a shake of his head, the guilt he’d felt earlier returning. “You were in trouble, Kie. I was always going to come.”

“Even after everything?” She asks, her voice faltering, as if she thought JJ would reject her all over again. “I abandoned all of you; I abandoned John B. Why would you forgive me?”

Because you’re you, and I couldn’t stay mad at you if I wanted to. Because I might be a tiny bit in love with you, even if I know that you don’t feel the same.

But JJ can’t say any of that, so he settles for pulling Kie into his side and resting his head on hers. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’re all good now, I promise.”

“Okay,” Kiara sighs, her eyelids fluttering closed as she collapses into him. “Thanks again, JJ. For everything.”

JJ has no idea what he’s supposed to say to that, so he just helps Kie lie down on the pullout. She’s still in her party clothes, but he tugs off her boots and watches as she drinks the water and pops some Advil.

After, when Kiara’s lying on the bed with her eyes closed, drifting in and out of sleep, JJ moves to leave, planning on crashing in the spare bedroom. But then she murmurs his name, tugs him back towards the pullout by his wrist, asks him to stay with her.

“Just for tonight, JJ. I— I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

And he knows it makes him a fool, but he obeys, because how is he supposed to say no to that?

And it’s not like it means anything to Kiara, because she’s hurt and scared and JJ is just there, but he can’t help but feel like he’s taking advantage of her when she lies her head on his chest and his brain short circuits.

It might be a problem in the future, he realizes. The fact that looking at Kiara makes him want to do a thousand different things to her, all of which break the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule she herself had set.

But JJ doesn’t want to think about that, and he needs a distraction, so he focuses on the person that’s been hovering in the back of his mind all night. “The next time I see him, I’m going to kill Rafe.”

And normally, Kiara would caution him against something like that, but she just laughs softly under her breath and says, “Okay, JJ. Whatever you want.”

She falls asleep not long after that, her breathing slow and steady against his chest as JJ works his fingers through her hair.

And in that moment, he thinks that Callie got it wrong. Kiara’s not lucky to have him, he’s lucky to have her.

•••

After, JJ asks Kiara why he was still number one on her speed dial after all those months.

”Oh,” she says, and it might be his imagination, but he thinks she might be blushing. “You know, I just never got around to changing it. And John B never picks up his phone, so if I ever got in trouble, I just...”

She doesn’t finish the end of that sentence, and it’s kind of a cop-out answer anyway, but he lets it go.

Kiara’s back now, that’s all that matters.

Even if in that moment, despite his better judgment, JJ wonders if there’s more to it than she wants to admit.

•••

JJ’s father is the kind of man who’s known for breaking promises. He’s broken almost every single one he’s ever made to his son, and JJ had always promised himself that he would never be like him— he’d keep his word.

And he’d meant it when he’d told Kiara that the next time he saw Rafe, he’d kill him.

His chance to make good on his word comes a few weeks after that night, when JJ is refilling his drink at the keg during a party at the Boneyard.

Kiara had slipped back into the group with ease, almost as if she’d never left, and he could tell that they were all better off for it. John B was smiling for the first time in months, and Pope kept looking at Kie like she was the best damn thing he’d ever seen. Even Kiara seemed perfectly happy to be back slumming it with them, had started trashing the Kooks even harder than before.

And as for JJ... he had no idea how to feel.

He’d tried to tell himself to not get too attached, because just because someone came back didn’t mean they were going to stay, but when Kiara wraps her arms around his shoulders on the HMS or presses her body against his in the hammock, it’s hard not to.

She’d asked him not to tell the other Pogues about what happened with Rafe, and JJ had kept his word with that too, but that didn’t change a thing about his own feelings.

The truth is, JJ couldn’t get that night out of his head— how Kiara had been lying on the ground, limp and defenseless, when he’d found her. The empty, glazed look in her eyes, how she’d flinched away when he went to touch her.

And Kiara’s fine now, for the most part at least. He keeps asking if she’s okay, if she wants to talk about it, but she just brushes it off and insists that she wants to forget her Kook Year altogether. And sure, it wasn’t like anything had actually happened, but JJ can tell that it’s affecting Kie more than she’s letting on.

Like how she had hesitated before climbing out of the van tonight, eyed the crowded beach and sea of red solo cups with something like fear in her eyes. The other Pogues hadn’t noticed anything, but JJ had been paying attention.

He hadn’t said anything, of course, because he knew Kiara would bite his head off if he acted like she needed protecting, but he’d wrapped an arm around her shoulders and promised that the moment she said the word, they could leave.

Kiara has nodded her head, gave JJ a small, tight-lipped smile, and even though she didn’t say thank you he saw the unspoken gratitude in her eyes.

So, he had stayed by Kie’s side the entire night, filling her in on all the shit she’d missed, handing her a can of unopened Coke to pour into her cup herself, made excuses when John B and Pope asked why she wasn’t drinking.

And he knew Kiara didn’t need him to fuss over her, that she could take care of herself, but she was more relaxed than she’d been in weeks and hadn’t told JJ to cut it out yet, and he wasn’t about to stop unless she asked him to.

He’d even bitten his tongue and kept his fists to himself when some Kooks had called her a snitch, giggling behind their hands and giving Kiara dirty looks. Kie had just rolled her eyes and brushed it off, whispering for JJ to leave it and giving his hands a pointed look until he’d unclenched his fists.

And JJ’s never been one to shy away from a fight, but he knows the last thing Kiara needs is more shit to deal with, so he keeps his hands to himself.

But then he sees Rafe, and all bets are off.

It might’ve been fine if he’d just ignored JJ, gotten his drink and left without saying a word, but of course that’s not what happens.

Instead, it’s Rafe with a knowing smirk on his face as he clamps a hand on JJ’s shoulder and squeezes hard, telling him to pour him a beer while he searches the crowd for a special girl of his. JJ doesn’t need to ask to know who he’s looking for.

So yes, it’s Rafe with that smug smile and cocky expression on his face as he opens his fucking mouth and has the nerve to ask JJ, “So, how’s Kie?”

“None of your fucking business, Cameron,” JJ snarls, all attempts at keeping the peace forgotten. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the hell away from her.”

“Is that so?” Rafe says, eyebrows raised, shooting one of his cronies an incredulous look. “What are you going to do if I don’t, Pogue? Trim the hedges crooked? Put too much salt in my Margarita?”

“I’m warning you, Rafe,” JJ growls, stepping closer until they’re chest to chest, his rage hot in his veins. “She’s done with you. Leave her alone.”

“What’s wrong, JJ?” Rafe asks, his voice tainted with false sympathy. “Scared your whore’s gonna find a new—”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish before JJ lunges forward, the cup of beer he’d been holding spilling onto the sand as he twists the fabric of Rafe’s shirt in his hands and tugs him closer until he’s practically spitting in his face. “If you so much as touch her, Rafe, I swear to God—”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that, Maybank,” Rafe croons, seemingly unbothered by JJ’s proximity and the tension lining every part of his body. “I got what I wanted, but if it pisses you off so much, I might just have to try and fuck her myself—”

And just like that, the thin hold JJ had on himself slips, and his fist slams into Rafe’s face. They’re on the ground a moment later, and he’s straddling Rafe as he rains blow after blow down on him, oblivious to the hands tugging at his chest and the distant screams of the other partygoers.

It takes Pope’s hands on his shoulders and his voice in JJ’s ear for him to stop, to return to a world that doesn’t revolve around the desire to rip Rafe Cameron limb from limb.

“If I ever hear her name in your mouth again, you’re dead,” he snarls over Rafe’s limp and groaning form, his voice sounding feral even to his own ears. “Got it, Rafe?”

JJ’s not quite sure what happens next, just remembers Pope’s arm around his shoulders as he swore at JJ under his breath and demanded to know what had happened.

And normally, the rush he gets after a fight scares him a little because it reminds him of his father, but all JJ can feel is the satisfaction of seeing Rafe almost as vulnerable and defenseless as Kiara had been.

Her name is the first thing that really registers, and then he realizes that she’s probably going to find out what he did, and JJ doesn’t know why but the thought doesn’t sit well with him.

“Don’t tell Kie, okay?”

“JJ—”

“I’m serious. Just... leave this one between us. She doesn’t need to know.”

So, Pope keeps his mouth shut, and JJ doesn’t discuss the fight with Kiara, even when she sees the bruises on Rafe’s face a week later and shoots him a pointed look, her gaze hard and eyes narrowed. JJ just shrugs when she asks him if he did it, says he’s glad the son of a bitch got what was coming to him, and that’s that.

They don’t talk about it, and JJ decides that it’s for the best. Because what Kiara can’t know won’t hurt her, and things are finally normal again. He can’t screw that up.

Even if the fight with Rafe isn’t the only thing he’s decided to keep a secret.

•••

All in all, Midsummers is a disaster.

Because sure, there’s Kie flinging herself into his arms by the end of it, colliding with JJ’s bruised chest in a way that should be painful but isn’t, smelling like fresh flowers and champagne, laughing into his neck and smiling as if JJ’s the best thing she’s seen all day.

But before that Kelce has his arm around JJ’s neck and Rafe is about to land a metaphorical golf club through his skull, and there’s a brief but very real moment of panic where JJ realizes he has no idea how to get himself out of this one.

And then the security guard arrives, tipping the scales in JJ’s favor for once, and he smirks as he’s escorted from the room, tosses a final taunt to Rafe and his boys over his shoulder.

He thinks it’s over, that he’s won, but then Rafe says the magic words.

“Tell Kiara she looks pretty hot for a Pogue.”

After that, all JJ sees is red. It doesn’t even matter what Rafe said, because it involved Kiara, and he knows they both remember the threat he’d laid down after their fight at the Boneyard all those months ago.

If I ever hear her name in your mouth again, you’re dead.

He’d said it, and he’d meant it. And JJ doesn’t break promises— especially where Kiara is concerned. It’s too damn important.

She’s too important, and he’s not sure what it says about him, but Rafe says those nine damning words, the smirk on his face telling JJ that he already knows what’s about to happen, and then JJ snaps.

#jiara july #jiara #jj x kiara #jj maybank #kiara carrera #rafe cameron #obx #outer banks #outer banks fic #jiara fic #my writing

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theorynexus · 4 years

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Unrelated to the Epilogues

Apologies for not getting back to liveblogging, yet; however, that’s going to begin again with my next post. This one is simply to express some thoughts that have been kicking around in my head for a few days, which I did not get the chance to express because I was sleep deprived and then briefly sick. Namely: All weapons (or Strife Specibi, I should say) in Homestuck seem to be symbolically representative of the character who owns them to some extent. A few easy examples would be: * the Dualing Pistol (White Magnum/White Wand), which is elegant and precise, only needing to be fired once to provoke massive, impactful change, and doubly representative of Alt!Calliope’s subtle orchestration of events behind the scenes; * The Dudely [Fire]Arm[ament]s (Caliborn/Lord English’s canes/rifles), which the aforementioned doubled set is contrasted to: whilst they are equally intended to convey mastery of events (and particularly the people taking part in them), these are more brutish, and make their impact through repeated blows (a pool cue arranges things through a loud, meaningful break, and then many serious blows to follow--- and while these blows might in theory require precision in order to make the balls fall where they must, in practice, Caliborn’s talent is in ensuring that every hit eventually brings things to a favorable conclusion, rather than in the shortest route possible). Brute force methods are used to bring about the desired conclusion--- an inevitable death, generally ---and the overkill that Caliborn (the Lord of Death, in some ways) utilizes whenever his rifle’s sights fall upon a target (for it’s never a single bullet that hits) is representative of his general methodology and spirit. * Dave’s broken/mended sword, split over time, is obviously representative of his own Aspect, how it gradually affects him (time heals all wounds, as the saying goes, despite the fact that he seems to become quite incensed with it at some points, and struggles with it to the point of refusing to embrace it for a very long time), and especially how his personal history ties into his personal arc (Dave is more affected by his time with his Guardian than perhaps any other kid, despite the fact that Jade is fused with the replacement surrogate that might arguably be said to have usurped the position from her grandpa, and this is also a reflection on the Aspect of Time in his life, I should think). How Bro (Dirk) Broke his Heart, and how Dave struggled to mend it over the course of the series has been much better discussed elsewhere than I could attempt to express in the brief space I’m allotting to this discussion, here, though, and thus I shall cut this off right here, just as both brothers have a habit off symbolically cutting things off, themselves. ~~~ The train of thought that I am wanting to express herein started with a thought that caught me by surprise: I continue to have no idea what, precisely John’s Strife Specibus is supposed to represent, you see, so when I remembered that there was a method of inheritance called Gavelkind, it struck me that it could be related to this, as a pun. Unfortunately, this seems like a dead end, unless it is a very forward thinking joke about every member of his party taking up the main character mantle after he dies in the “more canon [more relevant in Dirk’s eyes]” Meat Epilogue (or, alternatively, Davesprite and Rose’s inherited self from the timeline having to clean up John’s mess after the idiot got himself obliterated in the deal he made with Typheus after Terezi tricked him). It could also be related to him forging the group through his Heir of Breath inspiration toward a path mechanic, but what are the chances of it being that simple an answer? Unfortunately, said inheritance business seemed more promising than it was, because I was initially confusing it with the Elective method of kingmaking that is to be found in German historical culture. That truly fits with who John is, and resonates with the “I’m not your leader, I’m your friend” humblepie that was served up to us (and everyone else in his party). ... This line of thinking was useful, however, because it led me to thinking about Karkat’s own weapon. Obviously, the “Heh, heh, Communism” line of thinking briefly occurred to me, but more relevantly, I thought of the reason why the sickle is used as a symbol of Communism. It is a classic symbol of the lower class--- farmers, in particular ---which hints at the very beginning to Karkat’s rather humble origins. While many people might like to think of his mutant blood as “potentially higher than fuschia,” or some such nonsense, more realistically, one has to realize that Karkat was placed in the lowest of low positions: not only was he the only member of his kind, but he would have been without a Lusus and immediately abandoned to death, if the worshipers of his Ancestor had not ensured that he had the dimmest possibility of a relatively normal life. At the same time, he wanted to defy this lowborn status and become a mighty general in )-(er Imperious Condescension’s army. While this initial spark of revolution was not much, it is representative of all that was to come-- you see, the sickle is to some extent also a symbol of revolt, and while peasant revolts would generally be brutally put down throughout history (just as the waves of opposition to the Condesce were in Alternian lore), this would not in fact be the case with Karkat, or the session that he (and Aradia) would lead. You see, Karkat’s own ideals and the weapon that represents them are but the tip of the iceberg. The Beta Trolls’ entire session was littered with themes of rebellion against the established social order, and the consequent turning of it upon its head. First and most obviously, it would be two Lowborn trolls that would come to lead the two “teams” which the session had to offer. Both of these figures acquired this position by usurping it from Bluebloods, who might traditionally have taken up this role in a circumstance where the empress-to-be didn’t show interest in leadership and the Purple Blood in the group appeared to be an incompetent, serially inebriated sack of garbage. This theme particularly shown through in [concupiscent] romance, where we saw pairings that, without exception (other than possibly the crush that Ms. Leijon bore for Karkat, which saw no fruition and arguably did not count for anything, just as Eridan’s flushed feelings for Feferi didn’t “matter” in the end, and Kanaya x Vriska, while being a borderline issue for this topic, doesn’t count either, also due to it just being a crush), all saw subversion of social hierarchy:

Equius x Aradia, Gamzee x Tavros, Feferi x Sollux {I just noticed that these relationships all have the same social distance from one another for some reason.}, Terezi x Karkat. Vriska x Tavros is one-sided, and thus debatable, but also fits this pattern, intriguingly enough. Equius was hit with this subversive force in their social lives particularly hard, possibly because he was the Heir of Void, and thus was more inundated with forces of subtext than the rest of the group [particularly since he was a failure in that role]. Not only could he not resist the drive to submit to those it was “perverse” for one of his “station” to bend the knee to, when the opportunity to truly embrace the anti-normative forces that he had been dipping into (despite his Classist upbringing) came, he was so confused and uncertain that he could not properly understand what he was being pushed to do, and the necessity of it--- and thus froze, allowing himself to be swept away by the Rage Gamzee filled him with. These themes play out in Operation Regisurp, both in name and its practical implementation. Furthermore, I have just, in the course of writing this post, come to the conclusion that this is why Gamzee had to be the final obstacle to the true end of the Beta Trolls’ session. He was a crystallized manifestation of the old regime, and its established order: Gamzee acted as a shadow of the Condesce’s will, the Hemospectrum’s implications, and the brutal reality that was Alternia. It was thus quite fitting that Karkat was the one to stop his rampage, for he was the Knight of Blood who cajoled everyone to work together as a single team, rejecting the classical restrictions that would have spelled DOOM for their party in favor of bonds beyond the literal nature of the blood that flowed through all of their veins. Furthermore, I think this is why that confrontation ended in the Shush Pap scene. Not only was it true that Karkat had literally zero percent chance of actually killing Gamzee in the fight (and a very small chance, indeed, to defeat him through violence), but this would to some extent additionally be an endorsement of the old Alternian way of life. Rather than through violence, Karkat used his bond with Gamzee to find a solution, and by this means, turned him away from his role as brutal Subjugglator--- though unfortunately this also meant that Gamzee would take a turn for the worse, becoming even more firmly cemented in his role as a servant to the Mirthful Messiah’s. ... Heading back to the meaning of Karkat’s weapon for a moment, I think that the sickle has another implication to explore: it is an implement of the harvest. Karkat initially wanted to be a sort of grim reaper, slaughtering Alternia’s foes and claiming glory for himself and for his empress. While he was correct in thinking that he just needed an opportunity to prove himself (and thus, he was embracing the symbolic “one must wait until the fruits of the harvest are ripe” implications of the sickle in his own life), the climax of this narrative arc would come when Karkat found himself at the head of Meenah’s united army of all the trolls in the afterlife and bravely charged to meet a foe he knew could destroy the soul with very breath--- and the very real equivalent of the Grim Reaper, himself ---wielding the closest thing he had to a weapon painted with the rainbow (Fuschia an Lime Green bound together betwixt bands of black and white, thus singled out amidst all the colors of the light spectrum). This was his ultimate rejection of the Alternia that was, as he challenged the hidden hand that had twisted it into the place of horror it had been; and upon the fulfillment of that destiny, Karkat would vanish.

Yet, by some miracle, this was not the end: in a place separated beyond barriers of space and time, he would awaken, and but a short time later, he would be granted the Ultimate Reward that had once been wrenched from his grasp. ....................................................................................................................... One last matter of note: It should be pretty obvious, considering the fact that universes are shaped to reflect the wills and designs of the Players involved, but I am pretty sure humans’ singularly colored blood is an explicit rejection of the hemospectrum, and the particular color that was “chosen” may very well be reflective of the important role Karkat in particular played in the session. What may not be so obvious is how fitting, symbolically, it is that it is a human that stands triumphant over the corpse of )-(er Imperious Condescension. Curse baggage aside (which still has been irksomely unexplored, to my knowledge), the fact that it is essentially the Beta Trolls’ rejection of her world order that does the empress in feels very right and, upon reflection, is quite beautiful. Obviously, there’s also a nice splash of revenge playing into that too, as visibly denoted by the weapon used and the handle wrapping, in particular. I am curious as to the implications of Roxy’s typing color being the same as the blood of said fishy tyrant, though. That, I can’t quite figure out.

#Homestuck Analysis #Homestuck Spoilers #Karkat Vantas #Symbolic Meaning #Thematic

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hockeybabestars · 5 years

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New Year, Same Us - Auston Matthews - Eight

a/n: im going out of town for a football game/visiting friends this weekend and i’m not bringing my computer so i thought i would post this early for yall!! thank you to every person who has been keeping up with this story and liking or reblogging! you mean so much to me! i hope yall enjoy the longest chapter of new year same us, to make up for the shortest in chapter seven (yikes!) we’re almost through with this story yall! we have a lil flashback in this chapter! (in italics) and finally have the prompt that started it all! (in bold)

September 18, 2018

Austons P.O.V

“Aus?!” She yelled from her room. “Are you almost ready?”

I had been ready for 20 minutes and was sitting on our couch waiting for her to finish up. “Yeah I’m ready now!” I rolled up my sleeve to get a better look at my watch, “are you almost ready? It would look really bad if my plus one made us late.” I snicker as I heard her heels clack, the light to the hallway going off simultaneously.

I got up from the sofa as she entered, and boy, was I going to have to keep an eye on her tonight. She looked stunning. The light pink dress cinched her curves in all the right places, and her hair was in waves. She was like something out of a dream. She didn’t bat an eye as she went to the kitchen looking for the keys. I came up behind her and dangled them in her face, and before she could snatch them I pulled them away. She reached for them again but I held them behind my head, and suddenly she was all too close to my face. I glanced down at her lips, wanting to kiss them badly but then I quickly diverted back up to her eyes. “You look stunning (Y/N).”

I could feel her breath hitch against my own lips and the minty flavor of her gum hit my nose before she smiled genuinely, her signature smile where her lips tilted a little crooked at the corners, and it made my heart flutter. “Thanks Aus, you don’t look too bad yourself.”

She stepped away and we did a once over of our apartment, making sure we didn’t forget anything. I grinned and opened our front door for her, watching her walk as she went. I locked the door and we went down the hall towards the elevator, “just out of curiosity,” she toyed with a strand of her hair, eyes flicking up to me through long lashes, “how much did your suit cost?” She was smirking at me and I couldn’t resist really. “Wanna bet on it?” The elevator dinged for us to get on and she rolled her eyes, “do I even have a choice?”

“No use fighting at this point babydoll.” I flashed her my signature smirk as the floor indicator ticked down.

“Does that really work on girls?” She played.

“Apparently not on you.” I laughed but deep down I kinda hoped it did.

“It’s because I know you better than you know you.” She stated matter of factly. She did though. That was the scary part. We hit the first level and strolled out, before she added thoughtfully, “did you want it to work on me?”

I felt my cheeks flame, and was thankful she was walking slightly ahead of me, “uhh,” I faltered before gaining my confidence back, “depends on if you wanted it too.”

She stopped for a split second, giving me a chance to catch up before she continued walking, this time leaning into me a little bit, “maybe.”

My heart jumped at that, “Still wanna make that bet?” I opened the car door for her. She thanked me and I hopped in the drivers side.

“Am I betting high or low.” She gave me side eye as she buckled her seat belt and we were off.

“What do you think?” I grinned. There’s no way she gets this. “Do you know your suits? What brand am I even wearing?” I smiled.

I could feel her eyes on me as mine were on the road, and she reached over and ran her finger down the lapel of it, feeling the fabric. I tried to concentrate on the road but she was leaned over the console examining the details of my suit, looking for anything that would give away the designer or price. I needed to think fast, I could tell this would be a long night already and it hadn’t really even begun.

I swatted her hand away, “hey stop it! that’s cheating.” I smiled and looked over at her as we hit a light. She placed her palm flat against my chest as she mocked me, pulling her lower lip into a pout. I could feel my heartbeat pick up and surely she could too.

“Just seeing what I have to work with Aus.” The nickname melted off her tongue like butter and really I only like it when she says it anyway. The light flashed green and I grabbed her hand off my chest, entwining our fingers together and resting them over the middle console. “I’m betting high, what like $7,000? Is that too much for a suit? What is it Gucci? Aren’t you like their poster boy or something?”

I laughed at her accusations and she squeezed my hand a little too hard. “Ow! Jeez woman that hurt. Those are my money makers!”

She swatted at me again, “sorry not sorry. Isn’t like half your closet Gucci or something. I feel like I should know this but I’m really drawing a blank here.”

A smile crept up onto my face. She’s cute when she’s thinking too hard. She always over thinks or over-analyzes everything. It’s like it’s written in her DNA or something.

She looked over at me and I attempted to keep a straight face, “it’s Gucci isn’t it.” I nodded. “$7000 close?”

I kept a tight lip. She turned towards me, “it’s fuckin higher isn’t it!!!” Her voice raised towards the end and I burst out laughing.

“$10,000.” Her jaw dropped, “what do I get since you couldn’t guess it?”

“I can’t believe you spent $10,000 on a suit.” She was in awe, “that’s like a trip to Europe, or a down payment on a car, what are you psycho?”

“Are you really belittling me right now?” I chuckled, “you guessed $7,000 that’s just as high!!!”

“Yeah but-“

“But what? $7000 okay to drop but $10 is too much?” Her face went blank as she tried to process it and I howled as her eyebrows knit together. She was something else.

“I hate you.” She fought to keep the smile off her face.

“Your mouth says otherwise.” She covered her lips with her hands as we pulled up to the venue, she finally pulled them off as we valeted the car. And as we walked into the rustic barn I elbowed her a bit, grinning wildly, “seriously though, what’s my prize since you didn’t guess right?”

She linked our arms as we tried to figure out where we were sitting and smirked at me, “Bragging rights.”

“I bet we could make it a little more interesting.”

“Oh of course you bet huh.”

“You owe me a dance.”

She pouted. “Aus-“

“Nuh-Uh. We’re dancing later, it’s the least you can do.”

I can tell she wanted to press me further but instead she just nodded, “Okay.”

“Wow, I didn’t think that would be this easy. I need to win bets more often.” I knew how much she hated dancing. It was because she had two left feet and literally tripped over herself on any normal day. She didn’t like to embarrass herself. The truth was, she wasn’t a bad dancer at all. She could dance fine by herself, especially after a drink or two. But she was clumsy enough that partner dancing wasn’t really her thing. I always try to get her to at weddings and events but she doesn’t budge. She's stubborn as hell, but it’s why I love her. She doesn’t change for anyone. Not even me. I always ended up finding some random bridesmaid to dance with at these things, but tonight she was mine.

We wandered further into the barn stopping for a few pictures together before the ceremony as Paige snapped away on her phone and a film camera as well. Mitch and Steph found their way to us too and soon enough we had group pictures with the six of us, then guys, girls, and finally as we finished up it was about time to find our seats.

The Tavares wedding was really going to be something. Greenery was everywhere and there was a modern feel to their set up even with the more natural elements. I put a hand on (Y/N)’s lower back and guided her to our seats on the grooms side. We were in the middle back and slid into the refurbished white bench with ease, the rest of our group following suit, filing into the row after us. I wrapped an arm around the back of (Y/N)’s seat as she crossed her ankles, leaning into me while we waited for the ceremony to start. A comfortable silence settled over us and somehow both our free hands found each other on their own accord. Soon enough she was playing with my fingers, clasping and unclasping them, tracing the outline of my hand and holding our palms up to watch our hands align. It was something we had done plenty of times before. Whenever we got bored or were watching Netflix or at family events. It was inevitable that our hands would meet. Her hand was a lot smaller than mine, and we quietly played a game of thumb wars before the loud chattering settled down. I could hear the preacher say to rise, so I gently grabbed her hand in mine and lead her up. She was still leaning into me as we waited for the bride to make her way down the aisle.

John and Aryne chose to say their own vows although short and sweet. It was nice. Being here, celebrating them. (Y/N) was the perfect wedding date. She was classy and reserved when needed but could definitely open up and make conversation with anyone who approached her. And soooo many people approached her. Which was crazy because she was the plus one. But that’s just (Y/N), stealing everyone’s heart the way she stole mine.

It had to be obvious at this point. I thought my incessant flirting and annoying her every chance I got would be enough to give her the hint, but apparently not. I thought that living together was another sign that maybe I was kind of into her but she just took it at face value since it was the most logical option. I think I really realized how I've felt this past May. I mean, it was there all along, but I didn’t admit it to myself until then. She started hooking up with some random guy at college, and when I walked into some kid in our apartment it made my stomach lurch. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that sick in my life.

I had talked to her earlier in the day. We were on a long road trip in the west and I was excited to get back and see her.

It felt like maybe things had been changing between us lately, and I wanted to get back and test the waters a little just to see if she even felt a tiny bit the same. It was easy with her. I missed her like crazy, constantly texting to see what she was up to, and sending snapchat updates of what the boys and I were doing, just because I knew she would send a picture back and I could see that gorgeous face again.

Our flight was delayed because weather in Toronto was pretty bad. And we didn’t end up landing till pretty late. I texted her when we landed at 12 that I would be home soon. I never got a response so I figured she was asleep.

What I didn’t expect, when I came home at 1am on a Saturday, was some random guy going through the cupboards in our kitchen with just his boxers on.

“Uh who are you?” I had a sour taste in my mouth.

The guy looked up from his position on the floor, going through the bottom cabinets and I swear almost shit himself. “Oh my god you’re Auston Matthews.” I frowned. Oh jeez a hockey fan, how rare in this city! He shook his head in disbelief and stood up, walking over to me and put his hand out for me to shake. I took it, begrudgingly. “I’m Reese, it’s really nice to meet you, although I never thought it would be like this.”

I scoffed, but he didn’t seem to notice. He found (Y/N)’s post it notes on the kitchen island and pulled one off handing it to me, “do you think you could sign this for me?”

“What the hell is going on here? Reese I thought-” (Y/N) ‘s voice sounded a little groggy, like she might’ve been sleeping, but when she came out of her room, only clad in black lace underwear and a t-shirt I presumed to be his, my breath caught in my throat. One because she looked damn good. And two because she was wearing his clothes and practically nothing else. I felt a fire in my chest. I swallowed hard and tried to remain neutral.

When she finally realized I was home her eyes went wide. “Oh, uh, hey Aus.”

“(Y/N) you didn’t tell me your roommate was the Auston Matthews.” This guy was still here?

She uncomfortably glanced over at me. Yeah me too. “Uh roommate? Try best friend.” I said smugly.

“I didn't see a reason to bring it up.” She said. Ouch that hurt.

“Sorry Reese bro, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, I really need to get to bed and I’m sure your friend (Y/N) here can fill you in on all the dirty details later. Have a great night.” I walked past them and into my room, shutting the door. Trying to get ready for bed without my head exploding from everything that just happened. I waited until I could hear him leave before I went and knocked on her door.

“What Matthews?” I opened it slightly and peered in, leaning on the door frame and watching her fix her bedding a bit, now in another old t-shirt.

“Matthews huh? Can I come in?” She nodded and crawled under the white comforter patting the spot next to her. I sat down on top of it before rethinking this whole situation. “Actually can we go to my room?” I wasn’t really comfortable that they just fucked in here and wasn’t too keen on sitting in the bed that someone else got to touch her in.

She nodded and as I grabbed her hand, I felt tingles. I didn’t dare to look behind me as I lead her to my room. We crawled under the covers and sat against the headboard.

We stared up at the ceiling a bit before she turned to me. “You’re so dramatic.”

I looked over to her and I could tell she was slightly upset. “But I know that’s not exactly the most fun thing to come home to and I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. Were you ever gonna tell me you were kinda seeing someone?” My jealousy got the best of me, and I couldn’t help but let it seep into my voice a little as I ask.

“No not really, you never tell me when you do...So.” She shrugged, and I tilted my head back a little, groaning.

“You don’t tell people we’re friends either?” It sucked knowing that maybe she was ashamed of me for whatever reason. I always told everyone about her. I loved to talk about her and how proud I am of her for working hard in college and her internship which she officially secured, and just being the amazing, kind hearted person that she is.

“It’s different… I- I don’t tell strangers or people I just met or at least until I have a grasp on their personality. I stopped doing that a long time ago. I can never tell if they want to be friends with me, or have a relationship with me, for me or to get to you.”

“Oh.” It sucks, but it makes sense.

“Oh. Is right. Also I don’t want people to be up either of our asses if they're just clout chasers.” She smiled, shaking her head as I laughed, “Just not how I want to spend my time.”

I sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick him out, that was just weird and I wasn’t expecting you to have company and-“

“Auston. It’s okay. I should’ve warned you in some way, or gone to his place. Maybe this whole thing could’ve been prevented. I’m the one who’s sorry. That situation was pretty awkward.” I don’t want her at some guys place. I want her with me.

I grabbed her hand and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. My stomach churning as I did so, “Stop worrying. Don’t be sorry either. We good?” She nodded and entwined our pinky’s. “Always.” And with that she slipped out of the darkness of my room and back down the hallway to hers. And my heart ached with every step.

Maybe I wasn’t doing enough, maybe I just needed to be upfront.

I took a swig of the beer I was drinking and set it back on the table as I watched her converse with Steph, Paige, and Aryne, Probably complementing the bride on her gown and the allure of the wedding.

Pretty soon we were eating steak, mashed potatoes and wedding cake, and my stomach was all too full when the bride and groom shared their first dance. I looked to (Y/N) to see her swooning at John and Aryne adoringly. She was facing the back of her chair, hands resting on the back of it, and chin resting on her hands. “Don’t you just love those two together?” Her nose crinkled. It was really cute.

I stood and held my hand out to her as other couples started to join in on the dance floor. She looked up to me, eyes slightly glazed from her glasses of champagne, but I knew she was at a good level. Sober enough to make good decisions, buzzed enough to have a good time. “Are you gonna dance with me?” My heart felt like it was racing as I waited for her answer.

She took my hand so I took it as a yes. I lead her out to the dance floor, Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran coming on as we stopped in the middle. She wrapped her arms around my neck and my hands settled on her waist, pulling her close. My stomach churned with nerves and a little bit of excitement. I looked down at her, her head on a swivel, looking everywhere but me. Other people are looking at us and her brow knit in confusion. Her hand was burning a hole where it was placed flat against my chest.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” I touched her forehead lightly, then bringing my hand back down and wrapping it around her waist securely.

She looked back to me, eyes widening, “It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything right?” I tried, pulling her back into me as she slowly tried to pull herself away. “That’s what friends are for. And hey, quit trying to leave me!” I laugh, grinning. “Were kind of in the middle of that dance you owe me.”

She smiles back softly but glances around the room again, this time almost self consciously. “It’s just that… I don’t know- I don’t really know how to say it without sounding weird.”

“Are you okay? Is something wrong? You know nothing you say will ever sound weird to me? I’m pretty sure we’ve been through it all.” I leaned my forehead against hers and try to ease her mind but she seems so off. I don’t know what happened because everything seemed normal when we first got here.

She took a breath and pulled back a little looking right at me, “Everyone thinks we’re a couple.” I could see the nerves riddling her features and it made me curious as to why. It’s not what I was expecting, but it made me grin, “I know.”

“You know? It doesn’t bother you?” Her nose scrunched again.

“Should it? Does it bother you? I mean, personally I think I could do worse as far as fake lovers go, but…” She playfully shoved me and we fell right back into place, swaying as the song went on melodically.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” She seemed unsure, but avoided my question nonetheless, looking up at me as if the only answer I could give would be yes. That it does bother me. And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

I shrugged trying to play it cool, “why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know…” She looked away, back to the surrounding crowd as the song changed. “You’re Auston Matthews.” She huffed. “You can get any girl you want. Wouldn’t people believing that… we’re an item… wouldn’t that get in the way?”

I grabbed her hands in mine, looking down at them. She instinctively clasped them together and my heart warmed as I glanced back up at her. “That’s just the thing.” We had stopped dancing at this point, and I’m pretty sure we were in the way of people trying to dance, but I didn’t mind. “You don’t see me as the Auston Matthews. You never did. You just see me as Auston Matthews, your extremely good looking and talented best friend.” I smirked.

“Way to ruin it.” She laughed.

I gently pulled her closer, “you see me as the dumb kid who broke his arm at your eighth birthday party, and the horrible friend who spilled punch on your prom dress, and the annoying son of bitch who always tries to force you to dance. You never see me as someone who’s untouchable,” I grab her hand and place it over my heart, “you always touch me.” She looked as if she lost her breath, eyes swirling with emotions. She carefully removed the hand that was over my heart and stood still for a second. She looked back up to me meticulously, “let’s get some air yeah?” I let my hand rest on the small of her back and nodded as she lead the way out, one step ahead of me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

I couldn’t be more grateful for the little piece of privacy that we had out here. The air had turned slightly cooler, and I could see her shiver a little, although she would never admit she’s cold. I shrugged my suit jacket off anyway as we walked along the outside of the barn. The sun was starting to go down and the chill in the air picked up. I wrapped my jacket around her shoulders, and used it to pull her in closer to me.

She muttered a thanks and I sucked in a breath. Now or never Matt’s.

But she turned to me sharply, beating me to the punch, “you can’t just say stuff like that you know?”

“Why not?” Her eyes met mine and the wary look on her face told me what I needed to know. I know what she’s thinking. And she means more to me than anyone. She must know that. She has too.

“You could never get in the way of anything (Y/N).” I tucked a lone strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes sparkled and flickered up to mine. “It doesn’t bother me because I don’t want just any girl.” I toe around the subject, hoping she can figure it out before I have to say it outright.

“Well, what do you want Aus?” I want you. Don’t make me say it. Don’t make me ruin a good thing (Y/N). I don’t want to lose us.

My eyes flicker down to her lips. I close my eyes and lean in a little, nudging her nose with my own. Slowly but surely closing the gap between us. I could feel the electricity radiating off her, our lips barely touching before I heard a voice coming from the door. We broke apart, wide eyed, hearts racing, both looking to see who joined us outside.

Kappy looked drunk. And Paige looked like she was dying from laughter. They spotted us and made their way over. I looked back at (Y/N), her cheeks flushed and managing to look anywhere but me, although my arm was still wrapped around her. She leaned into my touch as they approached.

“Youuuuu guyssss.” Kap slurred and Paige just seemed to notice the position we were in.

“Uh Kappy needed some air, but I see you guys did too.” She grabbed his hand and tried to lean him into her for leverage. “We’ll just let you guys have some privacy.”

(Y/N) turned her face into my shoulder as Paige tried to shove Kappy back into the reception. I looked down to her and laughed. She did too, bringing her face out of my shoulder. I would’ve tried to recreate the moment but it seemed like it was lost as she grabbed my hand and tugged me back inside. “C’mon Aus, we should get back.” And I had no choice but to follow.

#auston matthews #auston matthews imagine #new year same us #nysu fic #toronto maple leafs #hbsimagine #hockeybabestars #friends to lovers #friends to more

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darling--michael · 4 years

Text

Made For Him - Chapter 10

Plot: She was made for the Antichrist. How will she change Michael’s fate?

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love lately! I originally was going to end this story around chapter 14 but I think I have a few more ideas I want to play around with. Let me know if you want me to continue this!

Halloween was an interesting time at the Academy.

The girls were preparing the shortest of skirts and tightest tops for the parties they would sneak off too. The boys fixed their hair and conjured spells to make them look buffer. But before they could strut around town, they had to prepare for Cordelia’s celebration.

Since this was the first time the boys and girls were together for the holiday, Cordelia was planning a small get together at the Academy. She filled a punch bowl with rich red juice, turning a blind eye to the girls and boys who snuck alcohol in it. They’d start the party by watching the spirit world open.

Violet was siting before Coco as she did the girl’s hair and makeup. Violet watched as the neighborhood carved pumpkins and hung bats in their windows. Coco had dragged her to her room, going through her closet for the perfect costume. Violet wore a thin white dress with an aluminum halo strapped to her head.

“Is all this necessary?” Violet sat still as Coco caked her face in makeup. Violet couldn’t ignore the beauty it added to her face but she hated to think of how long it would take to wipe off at the end of the day.

Coco smiled at her. She wore a flowy black dress and pointed hat she found in the attic. “Don’t you want to have the boys eating you up?” Mallory was brushing her hair, her own costume making her look like she fell from the heavens. She looked like a goddess with gold dusted cheeks and hair.

Violet thought of Michael at the mention of boys. Her cheeks burned when she thought of what he would think.

Michael and Violet had taking regular outings from the Academy whenever they could. Violet was able to grow her powers, which seemed to come from the very earth. She could make flowers pop from between concrete. She even watched a weed wither and turn to ash in her palm.

When they gave up on training her, they spent time simply roaming New Orleans. They roamed the graveyards, watching funerals from a distance. Or Michael would wave his hand, causing chaos to release from the people. They’re inner most thoughts blurted from their lips. The two of them laughed as they watched it all unfold.

When she mentioned it to the other girls, they made faces. “Wasn’t that a bit cruel?” They’d asked. “Shouldn’t we use our powers to make everything better?”

Violet stopped telling the girls about her outings.

Sometimes, Michael would wander off to see a friend of his. Violet wanted to follow him, to see who this friend was but sensed Michael needed this alone time. He always came back reenergized, coming up with a new plan to have some fun in the neighborhood.

When Coco and Mallory let her go, Violet wandered the halls as the girls ran around and giggled. The sun was low in the sky, waiting for the night to begin. As they gathered in the decorated dining room, Violet looked around for Michael. Many of the boys were dressed up as macho superheroes, trying to get the attention of the girls across the room. Then there were a group of boys flirting with each other in the corner as a group of girls let their hands roam each other. You could feel the hormones in the air.

“Looking for someone?” Violet jumped as she spun around. Michael stood before her in his costume. A long red cloak draped across the floor as a red devil’s mask covered half his face. His beautiful blue eyes broke through the mask.

Suddenly she could sense everyone’s eyes on them. Girls and boy’s eyes took in Michael, eating up every inch of him. She felt their eyes watching her too as she tried to pull her short dress down.

Michael tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, pulling white feather back. “Seems like you did fall from heaven.”

You blushed as Cordelia got everyone’s attention. Misty stood beside her in her usual gypsy attire. John Henry Moore stood on her other side, his eyes staring Michael down. Violet could feel the anger coursing across the room. She let her hands brush Michael’s letting him know she was there.

“Let’s begin the festivities.” Cordelia waved a hand as mist began to fill the room. The sun had finally set outside. When Violet squinted her eyes, she could see figures moving through the mist, leaving the house for their yearly haunting.

She felt a hand clasp her elbow. Michael leaned down, his lips lingering on her ears. “Let’s get out of here.”

Violet nodded, following Michael out of the room. She laughed as they ran down the streets, far from the witchy doings at the Academy. They blended into the crowds that filled the streets. Children ran around waiting for their sugar rush to run out. Teens sauntered down the streets, looking for trouble to get into.

Michael stopped in front of a house that was booming with music. Flashing multicolored lights filled each window. College kids fell out of every door, stumbling drunk despite how early it was.

Michael turned to Violet, an evil smirk playing on his lips. “Want to have some fun?”

The house was crowded and reeked of alcohol. Drinking games and drugs seemed to fill every room. Someone put two red solo cups in her hands. “Chug!” The drunk frat boy yelled, forcing the cup to her lips. Violet drank them both, letting the warm drink fill her stomach. Michael disappeared somewhere, leaving Violet to wander the house. Someone refilled her drink every time it emptied. Couples made out in one room, people snorted something white in another, and some kid was dancing on the roof.

As the alcohol began to fill her blood, the room began to spin. Violet found herself in a room with people dancing. She moved through the crowd, letting her body take over. Her hips swayed to the music as she let her arms float through the air. She was sure she looked ridiculous but the alcohol made her care less and less. She felt a body press against her back. Some guy in a Scream mask as thrusting his hips against Violet’s. She pushed away stumbling into a familiar red cloak.

Michael glared at the man, a strange gray look crossing his face. The boy ran off, and Violet swore she heard him vomit in the next room. The music filled her ears. Feeling brave, Violet threw her hands around Michael’s neck and began to dance to it.

Michael simply watched as Violet danced with him. He was awkward at first, barely moving to the beat. But as Violet coaxed him to loosen up, he let his hands rest on her hips. Violet let her hands tangle in Michael’s hair as she rested her head on his chest. His heart beat was rabid. She breathed in his scent. He smelled of fire and brimstone.

“Can you keep a secret?” Despite the loud music, Violet heard him clear as day.

Violet looked Michael in the eye. Her body felt warm and her fingers tingled. “I can.”

Michael leaned close. His breath tickled her cheeks. All she wanted was to close her eyes and lean into him.

“I’m the son of Satan.”

Violet stared into Michael’s eyes. Nothing in them held any humor. His serious demeanor made her heart race even faster. She let her mind wander to all that had happened. What did it mean if she were made for the Song of Satan?

Her arms tightened around his neck. “I know.” She whispered back.

Michael’s lips pressed against hers. They were soft and barely grazed hers. All the world disappeared as Violet pulled him closer. She took control, letting her emotions fill her whole being. Michael’s hands ran up and down her back as he felt her pull closer.

Michael pulled back, his eyes focused close to hers. “Follow me.”

Michael led her upstairs. They found their way to the roof, where they could see all of New Orleans. Michael sat on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling off the edge. Violet sat next to him, her feet pulled under her to fight the chill. She let her fingers graze Michael’s, an electric shock filling her whole body.

“So,” Violet looked out to the town. The lights of the houses making it look like stars on earth. “Son of Satan huh?”

#michael headcanon #michael langdon #michael langdon fanfic #michael langdon fanfiction #michael langdon imagine #made for him #AHS #ahs apocalypse #writing #fanfic

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Take care of you

A Roger Taylor imagine requested by the lovely @rogersrager I hope you like it lovey.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No one ever said catering for Queen was going to be an easy job, and yet no one ever said how hard it would actually turn out to be. (Y/n) wasn't informed of how much effort was needed in looking after the four divas of the band that was so adequately named. Freddie, as dear as he was, simply refused to do any kind of lifting or hard labour or even any easy labour, he couldn't mark his hands that were 'too dainty' for any kind of work. Other than scribbling down the lyrics that flowed from his mind like a river. This factor often ended with (Y/n) trotting around after the singer grabbing the things he simply refused to carry or bring anywhere with them. This wasn't strictly in her contract to do so but then again nothing she seemed to do for the band was ever written in her contract for working with them. Brian, though he was very clever and always on top of things, was a clutz to put it plainly. When playing his guitar he wouldn't stand in one place and left (Y/n) trailing after him so he wouldn't pull the wire from his guitar that connected it to the amp. Or making sure that he didn't trip over the various wires he stood between when he wandered to quickly jot down the lyrics he thought of. John was the more quiet member of the group, he was more laid back in whatever they did and seemed to live in his own world. Leading him to be forgetful. He would head to the recording barn without his lyrics, forget where he left his bass guitar, make half a cup of tea and then wander off without it and sometimes forget to stop to get something to eat. Due to this habit (Y/n) followed him around, holding out his cup of tea, grabbing his sheets of paper that she knew he left at the kitchen counter. And direct him towards his lost instrument that he left behind in his room. And then there was Roger. The flirtatious drummer who gave the impression he was an airhead but underneath was anything but. Roger was very high maintenance which was putting it lightly. He was like (Y/n)'s shadow that was always there to make her feel better but at the same time make her job ten times harder as if he was just there to keep her on her toes. He often caused the arguments because he was passionate about their music and if it didn't sound right Roger was in no position to hide his opinions. (Y/n) had to step in to stop the arguments he always created, rushing around after him if he took the hump and wandered off somewhere for a while. Making him his order of tea consisting of three and one-seventh sugars because he was an awkward bastard at the best of times, and then having to fight him off when he wrapped her up in an embrace to stop her from doing her never-ending job. Roger was the more demanding of the group but that was simply because he was her boyfriend. Today was one of those days where the band were more high maintenance than ever. John had forgotten where he put his lyrics and this time even (Y/n) couldn't remember the last time she had seen him jotting down his lyrics onto pieces of paper. Both of them scrambling around the farmhouse, out in the recording barn and then just wandering outside before finally finding them in the living room of the farmhouse. After running around for John's lyrics (Y/n) had to go and find a nail file for Freddie who was having a fit at a broken nail. Then Roger tried his best to set the kitchen on fire making breakfast leading (Y/n) to shove him out of the kitchen by force so she could clean his mess, get Brian to reach up and turn off the fire alarm and then make them all something to eat. Hurrying herself to make the drinks including Roger's fussy cup of tea before trailing into the recording studio in the barn. It was only half past one in the afternoon and everything was getting on top of her because of the demanding job she thought was going to be a piece of cake when her boyfriend insisted she take it. "Brian- oh my God." (Y/n)'s hand pressed to her forehead when the taller man stood on a wire leading to one of the various amp machines set up around them. His hands flying out to grab onto one of the amps to steady himself, his eyes burning into the drummer who sat behind the drumkit on the drum risers. Clattering his drumstick to the snare drum and then the cymbal with raised eyebrows and a smirk plastered to his face. "Like you never trip up, I can't see the ground like you can." Brian's words effectively wiped the smirk from Roger's lips for a brief moment at the comment that he was short. It was clear to them all that although John and Freddie weren't that tall, Roger was still the shortest of them all which seemed to be something they all liked to joke about. Roger had become used to these kinds of remarks, though they were all in good fun. He had often been called tidge in school. "Least I'm pissed when I fall, and we all know I'm more graceful than you." "Is it time for lunch yet?" John sighed, eyes glancing around his bandmates and their great helper as his eyes pleaded for them to leave. He didn't want to be cooped up here anymore without the energy he needed to keep him awake through their rants and arguments and music. Brian and Roger locked eyes before nodding, their banter dying down as Brian recovered from his small trip, steadying himself and pushing himself back onto his feet. Leaving his guitar propped up on the stand against the far wall as he walked a little slower to avoid the various wires he was close to treading on. Walking around from the drum kit Roger jumped down from the risers, arms stretching up above his head as he felt his spine clicking into place. Pushing the light blonde strands of hair over his shoulders as he glanced around the others, walking over to Brian. Watching Freddie also stretching from having sat down in front of the piano for too long, his fingers lightly brushing his hair out of his eyes as John set down his guitar and got to his feet also. At least today wasn't one of the days where (Y/n) had to battle all four of them to get them to take a break and eat something. Always having to either pester each and every one of them until they cracked or simply make them something and bring it into the studio so they didn't have to leave when they were just getting their inspiration. (Y/n) was thankful that today wasn't one of those days because she didn't have the energy needed to pester them. There was a hammer hacking away at her head right between her eyes and it was getting worse as the morning progressed. Planting her hands down either side of her on the sofa (Y/n) took a breath before pushing herself so she was standing up, her eyes snapping closed as she tried to balance herself. "Babe, you ready?" Roger questioned, eyes narrowing slightly when he watched his girlfriend make no attempt to move when she stood up. Panic rushed through (Y/n) as she knew this feeling all too well. It was a feeling that she hadn't experienced for some months now, a feeling that she thought she had been lucky enough to have escaped for good. Now seeing that was to much for her to wish for. Her mind instantly knowing that this sudden feeling was because of her condition that forced all of the blood in her body anywhere but her head. Rendering her useless and prone to blackouts when her brain simply couldn't find the blood it needed to function. A hitched breath escaped her lips as she tried to bring a hand up to rest to her forehead that was beginning to feel like it was stuffed with cotton wool, but even the small movement of her arm was too much for her weakening frame. "Babe." Roger only managed to get one step closer to her before he froze to the spot, his eyes glueing to her frame when she suddenly crumpled like a piece of paper. Her body creating a thud that vibrated around the soundproof walls when she landed against the carpet covering the wooden floorboards, her head bashing quite harshly against the floor when she landed. "Shit, shit she's collapsed!" The drummer couldn't help but state the obvious as he jumped over the bundle of wires in front of him before collapsing down on his knees beside (Y/n). The sound of the boys rushing around behind him seemed to fade from Roger's ears as he carefully moved (Y/n) so she was laying on her back instead of on her side. His index finger pressing to her neck to check her pulse as Brian bent down beside him. "Baby, can you hear me?" His voice was a little higher than usual as he tried to stop it from shaking. His thumb pressing to the side of her face, gently brushing over her cheekbone as he prompted her to give him some sign that she was awake so he knew if she had blacked out like he suspected she had. His heart violently pounding in his chest when he noticed her eyes twitching and closing tighter, her breathing picking up as her head turned to the side pushing into the palm of his hand. "Does this normally happen?" Freddie questioned, not remembering any point where (Y/n) casually mentioned that she was prone to some kind of blackout or fainting spell like this. She had seemed perfectly fine this morning as well if a little tired and put out from having to run around after them all. "No, she's never just blacked out for no reason." Roger couldn't think of any point in their relationship or friendship where (Y/n) had just downright collapsed without being ill beforehand. Nor had she ever said anything to him about this kind of thing happening before or having an underlying condition that would cause this. Meaning that she was either under the weather and this was a one-off or something else was wrong and causing this. "Come on sweetheart, open your eyes." "She did eat breakfast with us, didn't she? She's not got low sugar levels or something?" Brian pondered on the thought out loud as he looked down to their assistant who was like a nanny to all of them. She catered for them all with anything they needed and they depended on her maybe a bit more than they really should. Brian tried to think back to breakfast that felt like it was weeks ago from all the music and ideas floating around in his head. Maybe (Y/n) hadn't eaten as much as she needed, maybe she didn't get a drink and was dehydrated and in need of some sugar to boost her levels. But the shaking of Roger's head diminished those thoughts immediately as the drummer remembered (Y/n) had eaten with him at breakfast. Making herself a cup of coffee before attempting one of Roger's cups of tea that had an uncommon amount of sugar to be added. "She's coming around." Roger commented, leaning a little closer to her when he noticed her eyes slowly trying to open, not wanting to overwhelm herself and be blinded by the artificial lights of the barn. Continuing to brush his thumb underneath her eye Roger smiled lightly when he was finally met with her sparkling eyes that always seemed to light up the room however dull it was. Her hand becoming back under her control to shakily press to her forehead, a whimper leaving her lips at the feeling of her blood rushing back through her head. Reaching out Brian rested a hand to her shoulder, going to attempt to help her sit up but stopping when Roger shook his head. The drummer knew better than to sit her up right now if she attempted to straighten up gravity would simply pull all of the blood that was going back to her head right down to her legs. It would render her unconscious if her blood was the reason she had blacked out in the first place. Rubbing at her shoulder Brian smiled kindly before taking one of the small red cushions from the sofa and slipping it under her head to give some kind of comfort if she was to sit on the floor for a while. "How are you feeling darling?" Freddie questioned, moving so that he was sitting on the sofa looking over at her, a smile on his face as he watched Roger reach to take her hand in his own. Entwining their fingers as he tried to calm down his breathing that was running away with him. "Headache." She mumbled weakly in response, feeling her breathing returning back to normal as her head was still battering but not as bad as it was before she blacked out. "Don't do that to me again... Are you alright?" Roger breathed through the words as a look of guilt appeared on her features. Maybe she should have told him a while ago about her condition, but she had been put off the thought because there seemed to be no point in telling. (Y/n) hadn't suffered from her condition since she got into a relationship with Roger and telling him seemed pointless if she wasn't suffering from it up until now. Realising that telling would have been the better option since she had clearly given the drummer a run for his money and taken a few years of his life from the shock she seemed to have given him. "Sorry... I have a disorder, it causes fainting if I sit for too long a-and the blood doesn't go to my head." Pulling lightly on Roger's hand (Y/n) pressed her other hand to the floor, trying to slowly ease herself into a sitting position feeling too awkward to lay down and talk to them all. Roger gave her a warning look before resting a hand to the back of her head, his other hand moving to her waist to ease her up so she didn't overwhelm herself. His lips moving to press to her temple before she rested her head on his shoulder. "You should have said." He mumbled, his lips hovering over her ear causing a shiver to run down her spine. "It hasn't happened in months-" "Until today." John quipped, raising his eyebrows at her knowing she couldn't argue and couldn't really say anything when he was right. Just because it hadn't happened for a while didn't mean to say that her condition had just gone away or that it wasn't important. It was to do with her health and so she should have told them so they knew how to take care of her. "We need to know so we can take care of you." Roger mumbled, his head moving and tucking into the crook of her neck as a smile pulled at her lips. The words sending her heart rocketing in her chest as a swarm of butterflies were released in her chest. Even if they all ran circles around her, they still gave her the best family she could have asked for.

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger x reader #queen band #imagine

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brookstonalmanac · 1 year

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Events 2.19

197 – Emperor Septimius Severus defeats usurper Clodius Albinus in the Battle of Lugdunum, the bloodiest battle between Roman armies. 356 – The anti-paganism policy of Constantius II forbids the worship of pagan idols in the Roman Empire. 1594 – Having already been elected to the throne of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1587, Sigismund III of the House of Vasa is crowned King of Sweden, having succeeded his father John III of Sweden in 1592 1600 – The Peruvian stratovolcano Huaynaputina explodes in the most violent eruption in the recorded history of South America. 1649 – The Second Battle of Guararapes takes place, effectively ending Dutch colonization efforts in Brazil. 1674 – England and the Netherlands sign the Treaty of Westminster, ending the Third Anglo-Dutch War. A provision of the agreement transfers the Dutch colony of New Amsterdam to England. 1714 – Great Northern War: The battle of Napue between Sweden and Russia is fought in Isokyrö, Ostrobothnia. 1726 – The Supreme Privy Council is established in Russia. 1807 – Former Vice President of the United States Aaron Burr is arrested for treason in Wakefield, Alabama and confined to Fort Stoddert. 1819 – British explorer William Smith discovers the South Shetland Islands and claims them in the name of King George III. 1836 – King William IV signs Letters Patent establishing the Province of South Australia. 1846 – In Austin, Texas the newly formed Texas state government is officially installed. The Republic of Texas government officially transfers power to the State of Texas government following the annexation of Texas by the United States. 1847 – The first group of rescuers reaches the Donner Party. 1859 – Daniel E. Sickles, a New York Congressman, is acquitted of murder on grounds of temporary insanity. 1878 – Thomas Edison patents the phonograph. 1884 – More than sixty tornadoes strike the Southern United States, one of the largest tornado outbreaks in U.S. history. 1913 – Pedro Lascuráin becomes President of Mexico for 45 minutes; this is the shortest term to date of any person as president of any country. 1915 – World War I: The first naval attack on the Dardanelles begins when a strong Anglo-French task force bombards Ottoman artillery along the coast of Gallipoli. 1937 – Yekatit 12: During a public ceremony at the Viceregal Palace (the former Imperial residence) in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, two Ethiopian nationalists of Eritrean origin attempt to kill viceroy Rodolfo Graziani with a number of grenades. 1942 – World War II: Nearly 250 Japanese warplanes attack the northern Australian city of Darwin, killing 243 people. 1942 – World War II: United States President Franklin D. Roosevelt signs executive order 9066, allowing the United States military to relocate Japanese Americans to internment camps. 1943 – World War II: Battle of Kasserine Pass in Tunisia begins. 1945 – World War II: Battle of Iwo Jima: About 30,000 United States Marines land on the island of Iwo Jima. 1948 – The Conference of Youth and Students of Southeast Asia Fighting for Freedom and Independence convenes in Calcutta. 1949 – Ezra Pound is awarded the first Bollingen Prize in poetry by the Bollingen Foundation and Yale University. 1953 – Book censorship in the United States: The Georgia Literature Commission is established. 1954 – Transfer of Crimea: The Soviet Politburo of the Soviet Union orders the transfer of the Crimean Oblast from the Russian SFSR to the Ukrainian SSR. 1959 – The United Kingdom grants Cyprus independence, which is formally proclaimed on August 16, 1960. 1960 – China successfully launches the T-7, its first sounding rocket. 1963 – The publication of Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique reawakens the feminist movement in the United States as women's organizations and consciousness raising groups spread. 1965 – Colonel Phạm Ngọc Thảo of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, and a communist spy of the North Vietnamese Viet Minh, along with Generals Lâm Văn Phát and Trần Thiện Khiêm, all Catholics, attempt a coup against the military junta of the Buddhist Nguyễn Khánh. 1976 – Executive Order 9066, which led to the relocation of Japanese Americans to internment camps, is rescinded by President Gerald Ford's Proclamation 4417. 1978 – Egyptian forces raid Larnaca International Airport in an attempt to intervene in a hijacking, without authorisation from the Republic of Cyprus authorities. The Cypriot National Guard and Police forces kill 15 Egyptian commandos and destroy the Egyptian C-130 transport plane in open combat. 1985 – William J. Schroeder becomes the first recipient of an artificial heart to leave the hospital. 1985 – Iberia Airlines Boeing 727 crashes into Mount Oiz in Spain, killing 148. 1986 – Akkaraipattu massacre: the Sri Lankan Army massacres 80 Tamil farm workers in eastern Sri Lanka. 1989 – Flying Tiger Line flight 66 crashes into a hill near Sultan Abdul Aziz Shah Airport in Malaysia, killing four. 2002 – NASA's Mars Odyssey space probe begins to map the surface of Mars using its thermal emission imaging system. 2003 – An Ilyushin Il-76 military aircraft crashes near Kerman, Iran, killing 275. 2006 – A methane explosion in a coal mine near Nueva Rosita, Mexico, kills 65 miners. 2011 – The debut exhibition of the Belitung shipwreck, containing the largest collection of Tang dynasty artifacts found in one location, begins in Singapore. 2012 – Forty-four people are killed in a prison brawl in Apodaca, Nuevo León, Mexico.

#Events

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the--blackdahlia · 5 years

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Armageddon Chapter 15 (Dean x Reader)

Title: Armageddon Chapter 15

Summary: Space. The Final Frontier. But for Dean Winchester, space was the last place he thought he would ever go. His family life isn’t perfect, his job isn’t ideal, but he has (Y/n), the woman he loves. Sam Winchester never thought his life would turn out the way it did. He is divorced, alone, and his brother most likely hates him. Working for NASA was not going to be easy. But, when a threat to the earth has him calling on his family for help, what can he do? can Sam and Dean push past his family issues to keep the Earth spinning another day? Based on the movie of the same name.

Pairings: Dean x Reader; Sam x Jessica

Warnings For this Chapter: Angst, language, injuries

Song for this chapter is Knockin' on Heaven's Door by Guns n' Roses

Mission Control

“I WANT A STATUS REPORT!” Bobby yelled as everyone began scrambling. “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!”

“Well sir, there was a disturbance and….” A scientist said. Charlie could tell Bobby was about to blow up.

“There’s debris and it’s messing with the comms.” Charlie told him. “We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Bobby growled and rubbed at his temples.

“I WANT SOMEONE TO PATCH ME TO JO OR GABRIEL NOW!!”

(Y/n) looked worridley to John and Jess. Jess was doing her best to keep (Y/n) from panicking. John was trying to help, but those were his men up there, and his sons.

“You can get your wish, to keep Sam, because if I die on this mission, you get your perfect son, and (Y/n) can find someone better.”

John closed his eyes and did something he had done since Viet Cong were killing his brothers around him, or since a little Sam weighed 4 pounds, 8 ounces and was born months before he was supposed to be born. He prayed.

“Mission Control! Do you copy! Mission Control this is Jo Harvelle! Do you copy!” Jo’s voice came in over the system.

“Jo, It’s Bobby I need a status report!” He tried to calm down.

“Bobby? It’s Sam!”

“Sam? What’s going on? I need someone to talk to me!” Bobby was trying to take deep breaths. “Sam?”

“Garth’s Dead, Dean’s hurt… The timer to the bomb got damaged.” Sam’s voice was shaky. “Bobby… We got hit by debris coming at us. A stray smaller asteroid hit us.”

“How bad is he hurt?” Bobby asked, closing his eyes.

“His leg… we have it in a splint at the moment he seems ok, but he’s out of commision for drilling,” Sam explained. “That’s not all… the time detinator got damaged… we need to fix it fast, so good thing I have the designer on board,” Sam joked.

“Shit…” Bobby groaned. “Just….just get it done okay Sam?”

“Yes sir,” Sam sighed.

(Y/n) could feel her chest constrict. Dean was hurt, she placed her hand over her bump and bit her lip. She was scared, she looked to Jess. Jess looked scared too.

****

“I think we have the parts Dean needs in the Independence.” Mick explained. Dean had been examining the timer and figuring out what parts were needed. “Let me go get them. I’ll be right back.”

“Dean, how are you?” Sam rasped.

“Peachy,” Dean grumbled. “Sam… I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Sam asked, looking over at him. His anxiety was through the roof, and he was trying to move as much as possible to help keep him calm.

“I don’t make it out of here…”

“No, no no. We’re not doing this.” Sam said. “None of this goodbye crap okay. You’re getting home, even if I have to push you there myself.”

“You let me get this out… I’m the older brother I PROTECT YOU, got it?” Dean growled. “I don’t make it… you take (Y/n) you go to the apartment... “ Dean took a shaky breath. “In the closet under all my vinyl records… is a deed and a house key.”

“Dean…”

“Before my blow out with dad, I bought a house… I was going to surprise her with the house before I proposed to her, but I got in that fight with dad, and got the job with Crowley,” Dean’s voice broke. “You tell her I love her… Make sure she moves on… don’t let her stay hung up on an ass like me… a coward who could have been with her for a long time…”

“Stop it!” Sam threw a wrench at the wall. “Just stop it okay! You’re going home and you’re having a family! And you’re not going to fuck it up like me! You’re going to have kids, and a house, and a good job! You’re going to die old with your family surrounding you! Now just stop it!” Never before had Sam blown up like that before.

(Y/n) covered her mouth listening to the altercation between the brothers. She looked to Jess whose eyes were filled with guilt. John ran his hands across his face. He looked to the little boy oblivious to the scene as he played with his toy cars. John walked over to Ashton and knelt down in front of the small boy.

“Hey, Kiddo,” He gave him a teary smile, “What kind of car do you have there?”

“Bird car.” Ashton said, holding it up to show John. “It flies.” He had a big smile on his face. “And it goes vroom.”

John chuckled, Ashton reminded him so much of Sam when he was little. “That is an amazing car, did your daddy get that for you?”

“Yeah! We’re going to watch cars someday.” Sam had promised to take Ashton to a race when he was a little older and could sit still for longer than five minutes.

“Would it be ok if grandpa came too?” John smiled as he ruffled Ashtons hair.

“Yes! We can see the cars together!” He clapped his hands. “Daddy will like that!”

As the camera shook and everyone in mission control scrambled. Sam held on to Dean as he tried to get up. Dean hissed in pain,

“What the hell was that?” Dean called out.

“Dean,” Benny’s voice sounded over the com.

“What Benny? What’s going on?” Dean leaned on the wall of the shuttle giving a knowing look to Sam.

“Dean I have good news and bad news, which do you want first?” Benny sighed.

“Bad news first.” Dean sighed.

“Well, uh, bad news is Mick is dead.” Benny told them. Dean and Sam stared at each other. “Good news is, the hole is done. But we can’t fix the timer so...emergency meeting.”

Dean ran a hand across his face. He looked at the timer and held out his hand, “Get me a screwdriver.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shook his head.

“Trust me,” was all Dean said as Sam handed him the screw driver and he began tinkering with it. Everyone climbed into the shuttle. They all stood around, watching as Dean tinkered away.

“Dean…” Sam said. “Is it working?”

“Don’t worry, when everyone gets here I’ll explain it,” Dean mumbled.

“Everyone’s here.” Sam said. “This is us.”

Benny, Ash, Ketch, Jo, Gabriel, and Cas came in. Dean looked around then looked at the timer. Closing his eyes, he looked to Jo.

“Are communications with mission control back and stable?” He breathed.

“Stable, no. But they’re here for now.” She told him. “All the debris is making it hard to keep a constant.”

Dean made his way over to the coms, “Is video working?”

“It’s scrambled.” Bobby’s voice came through. “We can hear you better than we can see you.”

Dean took a deep breath, “I want to talk to my wife.”

She wasn’t his fiance right now, even if the papers weren’t signed and they didn’t have their ceremony, he considered her, his wife. He wished he could see her, but hearing her would be just as good.

“Dean?” her voice was music to his ears. “What’s going on? You’re scaring me?”

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean smiled some. “I’m sorry I scared you. I just wanted to hear your voice.” He closed his eyes and pictured her there. “I love you (Y/n). Everything's going to be okay, you hear me?”

“Why do I have a feeling you are going to try and be a cowboy?” She muttered, “I swear Dean, don’t do anything stupid please?” her voice broke.

“I’m not honey. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I promise.” He smirked some. “I just really needed to hear you.”

“Dean?” She sobbed, “I love you, please come home.”

“I’ll be home before you know it.” Dean laughed, trying not to cry. “Just make sure you’ve got the details planned for our wedding.”

“Ramble on going down the aisle,” she chuckled.

“A little Black Dog that night?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

(Y/n) sniffled, “I love you.”

“I know.” Dean laughed. “I love you too (Y/n).”

“Go save the world cowboy,” she rasped before blowing a kiss.

Dean blew a kiss back before turning off the com. He ran his hand across his face clearing up the tears that were falling. With a groan he hobbled back to the group and leaned on the table.

“I fixed the timer… but you are not going to like our options,” Dean gave them a solemn look.

“What are they?” Sam asked, nervously.

“One of us has to stay behind and manually detonate the bomb. Or I volunteer myself to stay behind and detonate the bomb,” He looked at Sam.

“No way!” Sam said. “You’re not giving yourself up like that. We can,” He found a couple straws and cut them into different pieces. “We can draw straws to see who stays behind.”

“Shortest straw stays,” Dean agreed. They took turns drawing straws, dread behind each pull. And finally, someone had the short straw.

Dean looked to Sam holding up the short straw, “told you so.”

John closed his eyes as mission control heard the audio. (Y/n) held back a sob as she sank to her knees, Jessica with her. The audio and video were gone then, leaving them in the dark.

Sam was numb as he watched Dean get ready. Sam grabbed his own helmet and put it on.

“I’m walking you out at least.” Sam said. “Not taking no for an answer.”

Dean simply nodded as he limped to the elevator to the asteroids surface.

“You remember what we talked about?” he rasped, “You make sure my girl moves on… make sure the next guy treats her right.”

“Yeah Dean.” Sam sighed as they headed through the elevator onto the asteroid. Sam played with the loose path on his arm, slowly pulling it off. “Hey Dean, can you do something for me real quick?”

Dean closed his eyes, “yeah baby brother. What do you need?”

Sam reached out and pulled the hose on Dean’s suit, damaging the oxygen. He pushed him back into the elevator and tucked the patch into a spot on his suit. He shut the doors so Dean could breath.

“Make sure dad gets that.” Sam said, looking at Dean through the glass doors.

Dean beat on the door, “SAM OPEN THE FUCKING DOORS RIGHT NOW, YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS. I DREW THE SHORT STRAW!”

“You have a life waiting for you back home Dean. I don’t.” Sam told him. “I need you to go live that life for me. It’s time I pay you back for everything.” He pressed the button, letting the elevator go back up into the shuttle.

“DON’T DO THIS SAMMY, NO, NO NO NO! DON’T DO THIS! DAD’S GOING TO HATE ME FOR THIS SAM! IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE ME.” Dean began beating at the doors. “SAM YOU HAVE A SON WHO NEEDS YOU.” he tried using his shoulder to break the door but it was no use.

“You have a son or daughter that needs you too!” Sam yelled at him. “So just tell them I was cool or something, okay?” He turned away from Dean. “I love you Dean.”

The elevator doors opened into the shuttle. Dean felt two strong arms grab him and pull him in.

“LET ME GO! SAMMY! I NEED TO GET BACK TO SAM!” Dean tried wrestling away from Benny.

“Easy brother. We gotta get home.” Benny said, getting him into a seat and tightening the straps so Dean couldn’t get out. “And your oxygen is damaged. You can’t go back out there.”

“Then you get me a new suit, get me out of here. I drew the damn short straw it should be me!”

“There are no more suits.” Cas told Dean.

“And I think Sam’s made up his mind.” Ash sighed.

“He got what he wanted.” Benny shook his head. “He got to kill himself.”

“How did you know about that?” Dean growled at Benny, “How did everyone know but me!”

“I didn’t know!” Ketch said.

“I only knew because I had to take the kid to therapy one day.” Benny told him. “We went out for beers and he told me.”

“Dad’s going to hate me for not protecting him,” Dean sobbed, “the old man might as well kill me himself.”

****

Sam had the communication device that they were supposed to use outside of the shuttle. He sat down by the bomb and closed his eyes. With a deep breath, Sam powered it on.

“If...if anyone can hear me,” Sam said, tears filling up in his eyes. “I...I’d really like to talk to my dad.”

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @dekahg @marvel-af-imagines @feelmyroarrrr @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @sandlee44 @shatteredabby @caswinchester2000 @supernaturalwincestsblog @lauravic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @teller258316 @horrorpxnk

Dean Winchester/Jensen Ackles Tags: @queenslandlover-93 @screechingartisancashbailiff @strab0 @maaryisafangirl @deathofmissjackson @hellabrothers @fandom-princess-forevermore @x-waywardaf-x @webcraft4eveh @deansgirl-1968 @2dead2function @jjjjjjjoshdun @stella20131991@luciathewinchestergirl @sheris532 @bobasheebaby @bella-ca @akshi8278

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @cloudyskylines @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories @huntingfreewill @ocholove @princessofthefandomrealm @getbackhonkycatt

Armageddon Tags: @thefaithfulwriter

#Armageddon #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #Jensen Ackles

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asofterfan · 6 years

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Winter Winds

Prologue: Crying in the Club

Summary: Remy carries the sting of a thousand small cruelties. But he knows who he is, and he’s not going to change for anyone. After all, he’s never met anyone worth changing for.

Yet.

Warnings: underaged drinking, mentioned drug use, transphobia, enbyphobia, nbphobia, acephobia, arophobia, general ignorant asshattery

Remy is fifteen when he realizes that he has no friends.

He had always been popular- adults called him “charismatic” and “good with others” and a “social butterfly”. The kids called him “cool as fuck”. He held his head high, wore his shades inside, spoke sass like it was his native tongue. He didn’t walk, he sauntered.

For as long as he could remember he had been surrounded by people- people laughing with him, and inviting him to every event, and crowding around him at lunch, and maybe he kept them at arm’s length a bit but he still called them ‘friends’. But then one day his dad has to work late and Remy sat on the front steps on the school to wait for him, scrolling through apps on his phone, when one of the students sitting around him asks, “why doesn’t your mom just take you home?”

It feels like ice water over Remy’s head, and he’s glad he has his sunglasses on so they can’t see the way his eyes widen as he snaps his head to look at the girl who spoke. Her name is Emily and they’ve gone to school together since middle school, and Remy sees her almost everyday, and they talk at lunch and during science, and she has no idea that Remy’s mom is out of the picture. He looks around and realizes that no one in the crowd around him knows about the messy divorce his parents went through when he was twelve, how he started sleeping with his headphones on and blasting music to drown out the yelling and then never stopped because now he needs to drown out his own thoughts, and that his mom isn’t allowed to be around Remy unless his dad is there but she’d rather not be around either of them so it works out he guesses. They don’t know that it was Remy’s fault.

And if he’s really honest with himself? If they knew they wouldn’t care.

Because they’re not his friends.

Remy smirks, tilting his head to look at Emily over his glasses, “Gurl, you know I never miss an opportunity to loiter.” There are some laughs and chuckles, and Remy turns back to his phone and frowns, turning up some music so he doesn’t have to think about it.

“So you don’t like sex?”

Remy shrugged, scribbling in answers to the worksheet for her next class, “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”

“But you said you’re asexual.”

She had said that, yes. She just hadn’t realized her coming out required a goddamn lecture, “Yeah, being ace doesn’t automatically mean you don’t like sex. It’s about attraction.”

“But if you’re ace and have sex, then what’s the point of even saying you’re ace?”

“It doesn’t work like that, it’s-” Remy let out a huff of frustration, turning to the boy hassling her, “you literally carry a supercomputer in your pocket. Put it to use and Google it, bitch.”

The other student rolled his eyes, “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t say you’re ace if you’re willing to have sex! It’s just pointless!”

“Not nearly as pointless as this conversation,” Remy deadpanned, gathering her things as she stood from the table.

“Where are you going?”

“I lose IQ when I’m subjected to bullshit for too long.” She doesn’t wait to hear any replies, just saunters off without a second glance.

Remy doesn’t know how she feels about sex. But she stops trying to figure it out. The last things she needs is more ammo used against her identity.

Kevin enters the picture in the middle of Remy’s sophomore year.

The junior had transferred from a school on the other side of town. It was another boy in their circle who introduced Kevin to the rest of them, otherwise Remy doubts he would have ever noticed the boy- blonde, average height, average build, so plain he could star in a Disney Channel show.

Remy didn’t expect to get along, if only because he spent their first meeting dragging the boy to Hell and back. “There are still people named Kevin?” He raised an eyebrow, “that’s so basic. Next you’re gonna tell me you have an Aunt June or something.”

“Um, well…” the junior seemed caught off guard by the snark, but flushed slightly at the last comment.

“Nooooo….” disbelief spread across Remy’s face, “You’re shitting me.”

He shrugged, “My dad has a sister named June.”

“Okay, well… You dad isn’t named like… John, or Bob, or whatever, right?”

“Uh….” Kevin glanced around the lunch table, searching for some kind of support, but was met with glances ranging from amusement to pity, “His name’s Carl?”

"For fucks sake Kevin,” Remy threw his hands up in exaggerated exasperation, “Let me guess your mom's named Alice or some shit with an A huh?"

Across from him, the junior sighed in defeat, “…Allison.”

Snickers rang through the group, but Remy found himself pushing his sunglasses up onto head so he could look Kevin in the eye as he grinned good-naturedly, “Any siblings?”

Luckily, the newest student seemed to get the message that it was all in good fun, grinning back, “I have a sister.”

“I swear if her name is anything related to Britney or Jessica I will scream.”

Kevin smirked, “Tiffany.”

Remy clapped his hands together in emphasis, “BASIC. BITCH.”

“Oh come on, Sleep,” the girl next to him pushed him playfully, “not everyone can be as extra as you.”

He gasped dramatically, “I am not extra,” He pulled his sunglasses back on with a grin, “I’m elite.”

The teens around him laughed, even Kevin, and he decided the kid wasn’t so bad.

Remy had been 15 when she got her pronoun necklace. At that point she had identified as genderfluid for almost two years. She had tried to wear pronoun pins before, but always seemed to forget them in the morning or misplace them in her disaster of a room. The necklace lives on the side table beside to her bed, right next to her sunglasses. On the first day wearing it to school, she pointed it out to the students surrounding her at the lunch table.

“I know y'all can read, so I made this real simple for ya,” Remy had always been open about her gender, and figured this would help curb the misgendering, “It’s color coded and everything.” The other kids laughed and nodded, carrying on with their conversations, but Remy felt a little better, and her smile was a little more genuine that day.

Just that day, though.

It didn’t surprise her, exactly, the way no one bothered to even glace down to check her pronouns. The way she was waved off dismissively when she tried to correct them. But it still stung.

“How was I supposed to know?” Ariel, Remy’s partner for an English assignment snapped out after the third time Remy corrected her on her pronouns.

“I don’t know, maybe the ‘she’ hanging around my neck, or one of the multiple times I’ve told you. Take your pick, cause if you can’t read or listen, this project is gonna be hell and I will not hesitate to drag you down with me.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, “You say you’re a girl or whatever, but you look the same as you always do!”

“Yeah, genderfluid people don’t acquire their shapeshifting abilities until they turn eighteen. Is that not common knowledge in the cis community?” Remy mocked.

“I mean you’re dressed the same, bitch,” the other girl crossed her arms, glaring, “Like, you’re not wearing a skirt or anything girly!”

“Neither are you, bitch,” despite her best effort, Remy raised her voice, gesturing at Ariel’s jeans and shirt, “I didn’t realize you were born in the 1930’s, but honestly if we’re judging based off clothes I’m gonna assume your pronouns are ‘ignorant trash’!”

“Remy!” The teacher stormed over to the girls’ table, “That’s enough!”

“Damn straight it is,” Remy crossed her arms, “I want a new partner. Ideally someone who doesn’t have a negative IQ.”

Ariel screeches and soon both girls are yelling, words and curses blending together as the teacher shoves her way between them and fights to regain order.

Remy gets a new partner.

Remy goes to a college party wearing the shortest skirt she owns and too much makeup. Someone offers her some sort of pill and it’s not a school night so she takes it. She doesn’t remember much, but she remembers she didn’t feel sad, and in the morning she decides to start growing out her hair.

For awhile, Kevin is just another face in the crowd Remy surrounds themselves with. But the more Remy felt distant from the rest of their peers, the closer Kevin seemed to feel. He had been so nonchalant when Remy came out to him, not hassling them about it or badgering them with questions. Whenever he sat down at lunch, Remy would catch him glancing at the pronoun necklace and following it’s guidance like so few in their group did. For every hurtful word or ignorant comment, Kevin would be there, complementing Remy’s comebacks or rolling his eyes, smiling at Remy and stating “some people are so dumb”. He sits next to Remy on the front steps of the school and puts his arm around their shoulders and Remy lets him.

It should feel natural, the two of them getting together.

“Come on,” Kevin whispers, hand on Remy’s cheek to pull them closer, the two of them behind the bleachers after school like a bad cliche, “I like you. Do… do you like me?”

Remy doesn’t know how to answer that. But they know how they should.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

People always say you’re supposed to date your best friend, right?

Dating Kevin is… weird. Not too much changes, they suppose, but the things that do change make Remy’s stomach clench in a way they don’t really understand. They think kissing is supposed to feel nicer than it does. They think having a hand around their waist should feel safe instead of nerve wracking. They think they should be grateful to be given flowers instead of off put.

But all the good is still there. Their friend is still there. So it’s fine. It’s worth it.

They’re in Kevin’s room, laying on his bed, homework forgotten on the floor as they kiss lazily. Remy had kind of been hoping to actually just work on homework instead of being tugged onto the bed again, but he doesn’t think much of it anymore, happy enough to be spending time with the older boy. Or at least, he was, until Kevin slides his hand up Remy’s thigh and starts tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

Grabbing Kevin’s wrist, Remy immediately pulls away, “That’s a no-fly zone, hon.” He tries to keep his voice light, despite the confusion he feels because Kevin knows this, knows Remy.

But Kevin moves to kiss his neck, twisting his wrist out of Remy’s hand and placing it on Remy’s hip, “Babe, it’s been almost six months. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Remy pushes him away a little more forcefully, “Uh, I don’t know if you’re suffering some sort of amnesia right now but I’m ace. This isn’t something we wait for it’s something we don’t do.”

“Come on, I’m your boyfriend.”

Something about the way he says it, like it should be the end of the conversation, makes Remy acutely aware of his position lying beneath him; the way Kevin looms over him and won’t back off.

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest when he abruptly sits up and pulls away, finally getting some distance between the two of them, “Yeah, and I’m still ace. You’ve know this practically since we met!”

Kevin starts getting a little heated, throwing his arms out in frustration, “Yeah, but we’re dating. I didn’t think it applied to me.”

“Excuse me?” Now Remy is standing, fuming, fists clenched even as he backs away from the bed, “You didn’t think my orientation ‘applied’ to you?”

“Well I thought you loved me.”

And that makes Remy’s breath catch in his throat. His vision tunnels till all he can see is his best friend. And he wants to say ‘I do’, he wants to say ‘not like this’, he wants to say ‘don’t make me prove it’.

He wants to say, ‘I thought you loved me, too.’

But he can’t get any words out, and so Kevin keeps talking, patronizing, “Look, I get if you don’t want to bang random people or whatever, but I’m your boyfriend. You’re not being fair to me.”

Remy swallows thickly, and finally managed to grind out, “I didn’t take you for the ‘dumb jock’ type, but I find it hard to believe you’ve got multiple brain cells when you sprout ignorant shit like that.”

“Oh, well sorry if I don’t know all the intricacies of you being a prude.” It hits like a punch to the gut, and Kevin rolls his eyes, his face smug like he’s just won, like he’s waiting for Remy to fold and like Hell is that happening. Remy feels like he’s on autopilot, spine straightening, chin up, eyes cold, looking down his nose at Kevin like he was the dirt on his shoe instead of the crumbling remains of the best friend he had ever had.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have realized “no” was too complex of a concept for you. After all, you’ve barely known me a year and most dogs take at least a week to learn that word.”

Across from him, Kevin’s face fell, first into shock, then into fury. He opened his mouth but Remy didn’t let him get a word in.

“It’s okay, most toddlers have trouble with it, but I’ll try to explain the best I can. No, we’re not having sex. No, you don’t always get what you want. No, you can’t tell me what to do. No, we’re not dating anymore since I have become suddenly acutely aware of how out of your league I am. You need me to say it again slower? Or would you rather have a visual?” Remy flipped him off, stone faced even as Kevin’s turned red with rage.

Gathering his things, Remy ignores all the names hurled his way, all the accusations and curses and insults. He refuses to flinch when he hears something crash, though he walks to the door a little faster.

Kevin tries to get the last word in, shouting at his back, “Good! I didn’t sign up for half a boyfriend!”

Remy doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even turn around.

“You couldn’t handle half.”

The door slams behind him.

His footsteps seem to echo through the empty street. Evening has fallen, the sky darkening from pink to deep reds and orange. Remy manages to get a few blocks away from Kevin’s house when he can’t hold it back anymore, and he ducks into an alley between two apartment complexes. Leaning against the brick wall, it feels like everything in him collapses and he finds himself sliding down to curl on the dirty ground and sob into his knees.

The worst part is, Remy already knows that everyone will pour out false sympathies for the breakup, for the fact that he doesn’t have a boyfriend anymore. And Remy won’t correct them; won’t explain that he honestly doesn’t care about the end of the romantic relationship, but that he broke down in an alleyway because he lost his best friend. His only friend.

And logically he knows that he’s been here before. He remembers having no friends before Kevin, being alone in a crowd and he knows that he survived it before. But he doesn’t remember it hurting quite this bad.

This aftermath is so much worse than anything from before, and Remy decides that none of the good times in between were worth it. Not at all.

For about a week Kevin and Remy’s breakup is the talk of the school. The masses that huddle around Remy coo and send him pitying glances, telling him there are more fish in the sea while Remy smiles stiffly and nods along. Kevin has a lot to say and he says it loudly. But Remy stays so calm and cool, saying nothing except to cut down anyone who tried to make him explain his side, it was hard to take much of what Kevin said seriously. To an outsider Kevin seemed like a rambling peasant, trying to smudge the Ice Queen’s name. Remy ignored him. Soon everyone else did too.

His dad tries to talk to him. Remy had come home, face blank and empty as he explained that he had broken up with Kevin.

“What happened?” Picani asked, concerned, “Things seemed to be going so well.”

Remy had only shrugged, “It just wasn't working out.”

“I'm so sorry, Sleepyhead,” he pulled his child close in a one sided hug, “I know breakups are tough. I'm here if you want to talk, okay?” Remy had nodded against his chest, and then locked himself in his room.

Picani tried to bring it up a few times after that, even offering at one point to see if one of his old coworkers from the therapy practice he used to work at could fit Remy in for a session or two. But Remy always smiled and shook his head, “It's just teen angst, pop. I'll be fine, promise.”

Still. For about two weeks after that, Remy comes home after school and immediately collapses into bed. Being awake wasn’t very fun.

Finally, almost a month after Remy had their heart ripped out, they sit up in bed, where they’ve been for the three hours since they got home, and realize how pathetic they are.

Fuck this. Remy doesn’t want to sit at home and feel sad. They don’t want to be frustrated and confused and alone with their goddamn thoughts. They decide right then and there that that’s not who they’re going to be.

Filled with determination, they get to their feet, pulling their phone out and scrolling through old messages- there was always someone having a party in this city. Sure enough by the time they’re dressed and pulling on their jacket they have the address of some rich senior who doesn’t mind a bunch of teenagers destroying his parents’ house.

“Hey dad, I’m going over to a friend’s house tonight!” Remy calls out as they head for the front door.

Picani peeks his head out from his office, “Oh, I didn’t know you had plans.”

Remy turned and shrugged, “It was kind of a last minute thing. But I’ll be back in the morning.”

The counselor had a look of concern on his face, “Alright. Text me when you get there?”

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay,” Remy was already walking away, not noticing their father’s worried eyes following him, “Stay safe, Sleepyhead.”

Remy is just killing time before his next class, leaning against a wall and fiddling with his phone, when the jock approached him.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the other student smirks.

Raising an eyebrow, Remy looked the boy up and down. He recognized the boy as a recent transfer, a stereotypical football player that Remy thought only existed on tv and cliche teen movies.

“‘Sweetheart’? That’s your opener? Do you get all your lines from B movies? Try silent films, you’ll have more luck.”

A flash of annoyance crossed the other’s face, vanishing as he straightened to stand a little taller, “You know, when they said you had a mouth on you, I was hoping they meant in a… different way,” he leered blatantly.

Rolling his eyes, Remy turned back to his phone, “You clearly weren’t listening then. Any “they” talking about me knows I’m not into that,” he responded cooly.

The other boy only raises an eyebrow, “What, don’t tell me you’re actually straight?”

Remy scoffed, “Did I say I’m straight? I’m ace.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, “So you’re straight.”

“Are your ears just for decoration?” Remy crossed his arms, “I’m ace. I’m not interested in sex with anyone, gender’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe you just need the right person to change your mind,” the boy purrs, putting a hand on Remy’s hip and leaning over him, looming.

Remy gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his chest in sarcastic shock, “Oh my God! I didn’t know it was possible!” He leaned forward, looking straight into the other’s eyes, “You’ve managed to make me even less interested!” The jock sputtered indignantly, but Remy just smirked and slid around him, not bothering to lower his voice as he walked away, “If I wasn’t ace before, picturing you in bed turned me off for good.”

The hallway fills with whispers and giggles, and Remy knows he won, but he still needs to hide in the restroom for ten minutes because his heart is still pounding from the feeling of being cornered.

He’s not short, but he starts wearing boots with a bit of a heel on them anyway. He feels safer being able to look down on most of his classmates.

Maybe being awake wasn’t the problem, it was being sober, Remy decided.

Her laugh came easier after a few cheap beers. A couple shots and she could dance without a care. If she gets drunk enough she can forget that her happiness is an act.

It’s a solid system.

Remy is sitting on the steps outside of school, the usual suspects sitting around him as they all passed the time before classes started. Tired and frustrated from a long week, Remy had started ranting about the number of fuckbois at the school, when one of the guys next to them rolled his eyes.

“I mean, you do lead them on.*

Pushing their glasses up onto their forehead, Remy raised an eyebrow, “Literally everyone knows I’m ace. I don’t exactly hide it. How is that leading them on?”

“Well you don’t act asexual.”

“You don’t act like a single-celled organism and yet here we are.”

“I’m just saying,” the boy held his hands up in defense, “that you‘re always flirting with people.”

“Uh, yeah. Flirting is fun. But last I checked talking shit wasn’t the same as agreeing to do the nasty in a broom closet between classes.”

“Wait, did that happen?” A girl on the other side of him chimed in.

Remy shrugged, “No, it didn’t, which made a certain asshole very upset because apparently I broke some sort of unspoken contract by putting a stop to all that nonsense.”

The first boy leaned back, waving his hands in surrender, “Whatever man. I just don’t know what you expect when you…. You know,” he gestured vaguely at them.

Huffing, Remmy leaned forward on their knees, “Yeah, well, my expectations get lower everyday.”

Remy loves getting drunk and dancing in the very center of a crowd of people. He loves the warm buzz, and the feeling of human contact without any sort of obligation. He wears tanks and crop tops just to get some feeling on his skin.

“So, Sleep, interested in anyone these days?”

The girl leaning next to Remy’s locker bats her eyelashes, an unspoken but clear, interested in me? She’s vaguely familiar, just like everyone else. They don’t know each other.

Glancing over, Remy snorted, “I’m more interested in the state of my cuticles than anyone in this school, hon.” For a moment, the girl looks almost hurt, and Remy finds herself softening, “I’m not into dating. I realized I’m aromantic.”

There’s a beat of silence as the other girl absorbs the information. Suddenly, her eyes widen, “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, that’s so sad!”

That made Remy raise an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean,” she has her hands over her heart, looking at Remy with pity like she was a Hallmark movie widow, “you’re gonna be alone forever.”

“Riiiiiight,” Remy drawls, hiding her hurt beneath patronization, “I forgot about how you’re only allowed to interact with a significant other. Ever since that ban on friends and family. Rough times for all single girls.” She wiped away a fake tear.

“You know what I mean,” the other girl frowned, “Are you sure you want that? I mean you’ve dated before, isn’t it better to not be alone?”

And Remy decided right then and there, “No.” She slammed her locker shut, keeping her gaze haughty as she sauntered away, “None of you fuckers are good enough for me anyway.”

Remy is in someone’s basement, belly full of whiskey, laughing with a group of people whose names she doesn’t know and pretending she didn’t come here alone.

During lunch, Remy noticed a boy, Travis he thinks his name is, staring at Remy’s backpack.

“Dude, if you want the homework answers all you had to do was ask, not stare a hole into my bag.

Travis jumped, startled, but then he smirked, “I was just looking at your pins,” He gestured to the large buttons on the front of Remy’s bag. They were all different flags- a rainbow, the nonbinary flag, genderfluid flag, ace and aro flags, and a large pink button that just had the word “QUEER” in curly black font. Travis shook his head, still smiling, “You have too many things.”

Remy raised an eyebrow, “Pardon?”

“I just mean, most people are just gay, or trans, or whatever. You don’t have to be every letter in the alphabet you know.”

He said it so nonchalantly, Remy felt his teeth clench, “Sorry we can’t all be minimalist straight boys.”

Snickers sound through the group, and Travis snorts and rolls his eyes jokingly, and the conversation is forgotten.

That night Remy can’t find a party, so he sneaks into a club. He stands in front of booming speakers and loses count of how many shots he has, and doesn’t think about how he somehow manages to be too much and not enough at the same time.

Remy is eighteen when he stumbled through the front door, trying to close the door quietly behind him. But the effort was for naught, as the lights turned on, and when he twisted around, his father was standing in the entryway, eyes alight with worry and anger.

“Where have you been? It’s after two in the morning on a school night, I left you five messages and I don’t even know how many texts!”

“I’m sorry, I just lost track of time,” the teenager rubbed his forehead, slipping his sunglasses off to hold at his side. “Can we talk about this tomorrow?” He tried to walk past his dad, one hand on the wall to try to keep his balance, but Picani grabbed his wrist.

“No! We are talking about this right now! You can't just-” he paused when he noted how the teen was swaying, “Remy are you drunk?” His voice was incredulous.

Remy blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his clouded thoughts, “I-“ he pulled his arm roughly out of his father’s grip, “I had a few drinks, that’s all! It’s not like I drove or anything-“

“It’s still irresponsible, and unsafe!” Picani raised his voice, brows furrowed with anger and worry, “You didn’t even tell me where you were going tonight! What if something had happened? I wouldn’t even know where to start looking!”

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Remy rolled his eyes, “It’s high schoolers drinking, it’s not that big of a deal!”

“It’s a big deal because I know you’re lying to me!” The counselor’s voice continued to increase in volume. He knew he needed to calm down, to keep his composure and discuss what was happening rationally, to explain his side with a level head. But it was hard.

Because this was Remy. This was his child standing in front of him, swaying on his feet, hands trembling at his sides, with dark circles under his glaring eyes and hair a wild mess. It was jarring to see how very not okay his child seemed. And Picani felt his rationality slipping through his fingers.

“You’ve been staying out later and later, you never talk to me, your grades have been slipping, and now this-?”

“I get it dad, I’m a problem child!” He tried to look angry, but he couldn’t hide the tremor in his voice, or the glassy look in his eyes as he ran shaking fingers through his hair.

Picani felt something like desperation rise in him as he took a step forward, “That’s not what I’m saying. But Remy, this isn’t you-“

“I am so sick of everyone telling me who I am!” There was a quiet crash as Remy hurled his sunglasses at the wall, the lenses splintering into several shards. Chest heaving, the teen looked up at his father with venom in his eyes, “It’s like mom all over again.”

The words are quiet, and sharp, and suddenly Picani feels like he can’t breathe.

For a moment they both stand, looking at each other and wondering how exactly they got here. Then Remy turns, and without a word, he walks into his room and slams the door behind him.

~~~~

The next morning, Remy comes downstairs and sits across from his dad at the kitchen table before school and lets out a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Picani stares down into his coffee, “Me too.”

Remy keeps his eyes on the table, “I’ll do better. I promise.”

There is still something wrong. All his years of training as a therapist and a counselor scream at him to do something- to skip work and school and stay here and find out why his child looks so tired and hurt and what happened and they can’t just leave things like this-

But when he opens his mouth, the words die in his throat.

Remy doesn’t need another controlling parent.

“Okay,” he nods. And then he stands, because if they don’t leave soon they’re going to be late. “Okay.”

Picani gives him more space, and Remy gets better at hiding his habits, and they don’t talk about it again.

Graduation comes and goes in a blur. Remy hugs people he has no intention of seeing ever again. His dad cries, holding him close and taking an absurd amount of pictures. A part of Remy feels a spark of warmth at how his father glows with pride, how he had jumped up and down during the ceremony, shouting when Remy’s name was called, “That’s my kid! That’s my kid!” like he wanted the whole world to know. The counselor had been so understanding when Remy had chosen not to go to college, instead applying to be an apprentice at a tattoo shop downtown. When he got accepted, Picani had grinned widely and demanded they celebrate.

“Oh, I can’t wait to get something done by you!” He had clapped his hands excitedly.

Remy smirked, “I mean, you *did* kind of give me the idea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Picani winked sarcastically, crossing his uncovered and heavily tatted arms in emphasis.

A huff of laughter escaped Remy as he turned back to the computer in front of him, continuing to fill out the apartment application open in front of him. As he typed, his father moved to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder at the form for the small studio apartment.

“Remy… are you sure you don’t want to just live at home a little longer? You know I don’t mind.”

“I know,” Remy looked up to smile gently at him, the man’s face apprehensive and cautious, “and I know it doesn’t look like much, but I don’t mind having a smaller space while I work through my apprenticeship. I’m just…” she took a moment to consider her words. Trying to work around the truth without lying, “I want to start the next phase, you know? Start being an adult.”

Picani still looked concerned, so Remy smiled, leaning against his shoulder, “I won’t be far. You’ll still see me all the time, and I’ll still come by to raid the fridge and do laundry and watch Steven Universe.”

The counselor grinned, putting his arm around his child in a half hug, “Well, I guess when you put it that way…” He swiftly pulled Remy into a full embrace, crying out dramatically, “I guess I just wasn’t ready for my little Sleepyhead to grow up so fast!”

“Daaaaaad!” Remy laughed, halfheartedly struggling to escape.

It doesn’t take long to move Remy into his apartment. The space is small, so he only brought a few pieces of furniture. A mattress on the floor, a thrift store loveseat, an old crate to serve as a temporary side table, and a couple lamps. A few boxes and a suitcase held the rest of Remy’s life that he wanted to take with him.

Picani still seems apprehensive, but Remy does his best to soothe him, “I literally just moved in. It’ll look better once I get settled.”

“I know, you’re right,” his dad smiled, “I just can’t believe you’re all grown up now.”

“Taller than you and everything,” Remy joked.

“Only by a couple inches!” Picani cried indignantly, his lips twitching towards a smile.

Shaking his head fondly, Remy opened his arms, “Come on, it’s getting late and you have work tomorrow.”

Pulling his child into a hug, Picani gripped him tight, “I’m always a phone call away.”

“I know dad.”

Their goodbyes stretch a moment longer before the counselor finally takes his leave. The door clicks shut, and Remy moves to sit on the mattress, staring ahead blankly and waiting for twenty minutes to pass, as though his father might come back and catch him if he doesn’t wait. But he’s suddenly struck by the knowledge that he’s on his own now.

Nothing is against the rules anymore.

He doesn’t have to sneak around. He can leave his music blasting while he dumps out his suitcase and finds his fake ID and his favorite club outfit. There is freedom in being alone. No one to tell him who to be, or tell him to change, or be disappointed whether he does or not.

He’s free.

It’s dark outside by the time Remy finishes his makeup and grabs his keys. He grins as he walks down the street, heading towards a night of strangers and mindless noise and bodies pressed against each other without obligation and alcohol to drown out whatever the music couldn’t.

Yeah. Being alone is better.

Remy repeats that to himself a few more times as he makes his way into the night.

#punk au #winter winds #punk remy #remy/october #(sleepy hallow)#transphobia #transphobia tw #enbyphobia #nbphobia #exorsexism #hahahaha watch no one like this story #I tried #YEET

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randommusicalfluff · 6 years

Text

Tickle Headcannons (Hamilton)

Alexander:

- Ticklish. SUPER TICKLISH. Like he’s REALLY bad.

- Will fight you if you try.

-Worst spot is behind his ears.

- Very cute and squeaky laughter.

- Unless your John, The squad, Or Washington (Aka his farther figure)

- He’s a ruthless ler tho.

- Very spontaneous.

- One second he’s tickling your ribs the next he’s blowing raspberries on your stomach.

- Has bitch slapped Thomas for trying.

John:

- Almost as ticklish as Alex.

- very ticklish feet.

- Bubbly and loud laughter.

- First person to figure out he was ticklish was, Burr, Suprisingly. He grabbed Lex’s sides and he screamed-

- This is why he wears slippers 24/7

- Won’t fight much though, He enjoys the tickling.

- Alex found out he was ticklish when they where hanging in their tent. They where goofing around and Alex poked his side and John giggled.

- Also a pretty ruthless ler.

- TONS of teasing (Mainly because @robbie-lee-zombie made him super friggen teasy when we RP’d them)

- Will stop is asked (maybe)

Hercules:

- Shit he’s up there with Alex. D a m n.

- Worst spot is his belly.

- low, yet bubbly laughter.

- Tries to curl up into a ball when you try to tickle him. (Because he’s the right size to do so)

- Snorts a lot when tickled.

- If he knows your going to he’ll stary smiling, from one, Nervousness, and the thought of it.

- Lafayette found out he was ticklish. They where probably cuddling or somethin’ and Laf was tapping his fingers against Herc’s sides and he started squirming and giggling quietly.

- If he doesn’t know you you’ll get socked in the face. Or kicked in the nuts.

- He’s a pretty gentle Ler. He knows their boundaries and respects them. Unless your Laf, John, Or Alex. Then your doomed.

- When theirs a group tickle fight he’s the one to pin the person because he’s a strong boi.

Lafayette:

- Not as ticklish as you’d think actually. But is still pretty ticklish.

- Extremely Ticklish ribs. Which makes him completely open to attacks.

- Screams at your in French.

- Squeaky and loud laughter.

- Very tall so if your short you don’t have a CHANCE.

- Well, Maybe.

- Covers his face when he’s tickled because he flusters easily.

- I would love to say Herc was the first to find out he was ticklish buuut- Nope! It was John! John being the little prick he is he decided to see if the lanky Frenchman was ticklish. He tazed Laf’s ribs and he screeched. John then ran off to tell the squad.

- Ooooh boy your doomed if he’s tickling you.

- He’s the teasing MASTER.

- He can just look at you and tell where your ticklish. It’s scary.

- In group tickle fights everyone tries to avoid Laf or at least get him down before he can go after them-

- Which never works cuz’ he’s the tallest in the group so he can just scoop them up and pin them.

- Very skilled at tickling. No one knows why. This also scares them.

Aaron:

- Being the shortest out of the squad is terrible because they always go after him.

- Not to mention he’s always grumpy or salty.

- So that gives them more reasons to tickle him.

- This boi is SOMEHOW more ticklish then Alex.

- Everyone Flips their shit when they find out.

- He will literally die is you tickle his underarms.

- Bad at fighting back.

- But he has to admit he doesn’t FULLY hate being tickled.

- Has obtained the nickname “Burr-Cub” from the squad.

- No one really knows who came up with it but it just, Y’know, Stuck.

- It was Lafayette

- Alex found out he was ticklish. He was angry at Aaron and so he grabbed him from under his arms. Aaron punched Alex in the face-

(The rest are coming soon!)

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@hetalialover800 @robbie-lee-zombie

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Who Was The Leader Of The Democratic Republicans

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Who Was The Leader Of The Democratic Republicans

List Of Presidents Of The United States

How Many Republicans and Democrats Have Been President – Brief History #4

The president of the United States is the head of state and head of government of the United States, indirectly elected to a four-year term by the American people through the Electoral College. The officeholder leads the executive branch of the federal government and is the commander-in-chief of the United States Armed Forces.

Since the office was established in 1789, 45 people have served in 46 presidencies. The first president, George Washington, won a unanimous vote of the Electoral College; one, Grover Cleveland, served two non-consecutive terms and is therefore counted as the 22nd and 24th president of the United States .

There are five living former presidents. The most recent to die was George H. W. Bush, on November 30, 2018.

The presidency of William Henry Harrison, who died 31 days after taking office in 1841, was the shortest in American history. Franklin D. Roosevelt served the longest, over twelve years, before dying early in his fourth term in 1945. He is the only U.S. president to have served more than two terms. Since the ratification of the Twenty-second Amendment to the United States Constitution in 1951, no person may be elected president more than twice, and no one who has served more than two years of a term to which someone else was elected may be elected more than once.

Vindication Of The Constitutionality Of Alien And Sedition Laws

A large minority in the Virginia legislature opposed the passage of the Virginia Resolutions asserting a states right to declare a federal law unconstitutional and specifically declaring the Alien and Sedition Laws unconstitutional. That group of state legislators published this statement as a vindication of the constitutionality of the Alien and Sedition Laws.

The Awful Crisis which has arrived Must be felt by us all. . . . : T. Nicholson, 1799. Pamphlet. Rare Book and Special Collections Division, Library of Congress

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Trying To Break Through

The rest of the Democratic field is a mix of seasoned politicians, wealthy business people and others looking to break into or regain their toehold in the top tier of contenders.

MICHAEL BLOOMBERG

Former New York City mayor and billionaire media mogul Michael Bloomberg, 77, formally announced his candidacy on Sunday. The move was an about-face for Bloomberg, who had said in March that he would not make a run for the White House.

Ranked by Forbes as the eighth-richest American with an estimated worth of US$53.4 billion, Bloomberg will have the advantage of being able to self-finance his campaign and pour millions of dollars into advertising and hiring staff. He has won allies in the Democratic Party with his advocacy and philanthropy on climate change and in fighting gun violence. Bloomberg served as mayor of New York, the largest U.S. city, from 2002 to 2013.

READ MORE: I was wrong: Former N.Y. mayor Bloomberg apologizes for stop-and-frisk practice

ANDREW YANG

The New York entrepreneur and former tech executive is focusing his campaign on an ambitious universal income plan. Yang, 44, wants to guarantee all Americans between the ages of 18 and 64 a US$1,000 check every month.

READ MORE: U.S. Democratic debate: Presidential candidates clash, again, over Medicare for All

AMY KLOBUCHAR

Amber Alert for 3-year-old Ontario girl cancelled after she was found safe, police say

READ MORE: One year to go until a divided America faces 2020 presidential election

TOM STEYER

Don’t Miss: How Many States Are Controlled By Republicans

Why Did The Democratic And Republican Parties Switch Platforms

02 November 2020

Around 100 years ago, Democrats and Republicans switched their political stances.

The Republican and Democratic parties of the United States didn’t always stand for what they do today.;

During the 1860s, Republicans, who dominated northern states, orchestrated an ambitious expansion of federal power, helping to fund the transcontinental railroad, the state university system and the settlement of the West by homesteaders, and instating a national currency and protective tariff. Democrats, who dominated the South, opposed those measures.;

After the Civil War, Republicans passed laws that granted protections for Black Americans and advanced social justice. And again, Democrats largely opposed these apparent expansions of federal power.

Sound like an alternate universe? Fast forward to 1936.;

Democratic President Franklin Roosevelt won reelection that year on the strength of the New Deal, a set of Depression-remedying reforms including regulation of financial institutions, the founding of welfare and pension programs, infrastructure development and more. Roosevelt won in a landslide against Republican Alf Landon, who opposed these exercises of federal power.

So, sometime between the 1860s and 1936, the party of small government became the party of big government, and the party of big government became rhetorically committed to curbing federal power.;

California Republic And Conquest

In 1846, a group of American settlers in and around rebelled against Mexican rule during the . Afterwards, rebels raised the at Sonoma. The Republic’s only president was , who played a pivotal role during the Bear Flag Revolt. This revolt by American settlers served as a prelude to the later American military invasion of California and was closely coordinated with nearby American military commanders.

The California Republic was short lived; the same year marked the outbreak of the . When Commodore of the sailed into and began the military occupation of California by the United States, Northern California capitulated in less than a month to the United States forces. After a series of defensive battles in , the was signed by the on January 13, 1847, securing American control in California.

Read Also: How Many States Are Controlled By Republicans

World War Ii To Present

Like in World War I, the state enjoyed a big stimulus to its gunpowder and shipyard industries in World War II. New job opportunities during and after the war in the Wilmington area coaxed African Americans from the southern counties to move to the city. The proportion of blacks constituting the city’s population rose from 15% in 1950 to over 50% by 1980. The surge of black migrants to the north sparked white flight in which middle class whites moved from the city to suburban areas, leading to general segregation of Delaware’s society. In the 1940s and 1950s, the state attempted to integrate its schools. The University of Delaware admitted its first black student in 1948, and local courts ruled that primary schools had to be integrated. Delaware’s integration efforts partially inspired the US Supreme Court’s decision in .

However, integration only encouraged more white flight, and poor economic conditions for the black population led to some violence during the 1960s. Riots broke out in Wilmington in 1967 and again in after which the National Guard occupied the city for nine months to prevent further violence.

This border extends all the way east to the low-tide mark on the New Jersey shore, then continues south along the shoreline until it again reaches the 12-mile arc in the south; then the boundary continues in a more conventional way in the middle of the main channel of the Delaware River.

Civil War And Reconstruction

In the 1850s, the debate over whether slavery should be extended into new Western territories split these political coalitions. Southern Democrats favored slavery in all territories, while their Northern counterparts thought each territory should decide for itself via popular referendum.

At the partys national convention in 1860, Southern Democrats nominated John C. Breckinridge, while Northern Democrats backed Stephen Douglas. The split helped Abraham Lincoln, candidate of the newly formed Republican Party, to victory in the 1860 election, though he won only 40 percent of the popular vote.

The Union victory in the Civil War left Republicans in control of Congress, where they would dominate for the rest of the 19th century. During the Reconstruction era, the Democratic Party solidified its hold on the South, as most white Southerners opposed the Republican measures protecting civil and voting rights for African Americans.

By the mid-1870s, Southern state legislatures had succeeded in rolling back many of the Republican reforms, and Jim Crow laws enforcing segregation and suppressing Black voting rights would remain in place for the better part of a century.

Also Check: Most Republican States 2018

Biden Meets With Executives To Push Vaccine Mandates

President Biden met on Wednesday with top executives from Microsoft, the Walt Disney Company, Kaiser Permanente and other companies that have endorsed vaccine mandates, days after he announced a federal effort to require employees of large companies to be vaccinated against the coronavirus or be tested regularly.

The administration sought to use the meeting to show that vaccine mandates are good for the economy while spotlighting employers that have mandates for workers or have praised Mr. Bidens order. The meeting was meant to rally more business support for mandates.

Its about saving lives thats what this is all about, said Mr. Biden, who was flanked by Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen and Jeffrey D. Zients, the White House pandemic coordinator.

Vaccinations mean fewer infections, hospitalizations and deaths, and in turn it means a stronger economy, he added.

One of the invitees to the meeting, Tim Boyle, the chief executive of Columbia Sportswear, said in an interview on Wednesday that his company had drafted a policy mandating vaccines months ago. But it had held off carrying it out until Mr. Biden announced last week that he was directing the Labor Department to issue an emergency safety declaration that would effectively function as a vaccine mandate for tens of millions of workers. Columbia Sportswear told its workers that it will put a vaccine requirement in place next week.

Right Of States To Judge Constitutionality Of Federal Laws

Trump ‘still the leader’ of the Republican Party and Democrats are ‘terrified’

Thomas Jefferson and James Madison secretly drafted the Kentucky and Virginia resolutions to counter a perceived threat to individual liberties from the Alien and Sedition Acts. Jefferson and Madison were particularly concerned with charges of sedition brought against Republican critics of the federal government. These resolutions asserted the rights of states to judge the constitutionality of federal laws.

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Read Also: Did Trump Say He Would Run As A Republican Because They Are Dumb

Democrats From Clinton To Obama

After losing five out of six presidential elections from 1968 to 1988, Democrats captured the White House in 1992 with Arkansas Governor Bill Clintons defeat of the incumbent, George H.W. Bush, as well as third-party candidate Ross Perot.

Clintons eight years in office saw the country through a period of economic prosperity but ended in a scandal involving the presidents relationship with a young intern, Monica Lewinsky. Clintons conduct in the affair eventually led to his impeachment;by the House in 1998; the Senate acquitted him the following year.

Al Gore, Clintons vice president, narrowly captured the popular vote in the general election in 2000, but lost to George W. Bush in the electoral college, after the U.S. Supreme Court called a halt to a manual recount of disputed Florida ballots.

Midway through Bushs second term, Democrats capitalized on popular opposition to the ongoing Iraq War and regained control of the House and Senate.

In 2008, Senator Barack Obama of Illinois rode a wave of popular discontent and economic concerns during the Great Recession to become the first African-American U.S. president.

Opposition to Obama and his policies, particularly health care reform, fueled the growth of the conservative, populist Tea Party movement, helping Republicans make huge gains in Congress during his two terms in office.

The Fourth Party System

The Fourth Party System lasted from about 1896 to 1932, and was dominated by the Republican Party, excepting the 1912 split in which Democrats held the White House for eight years. American history texts usually call it the Progressive Era, and it included World War I and the start of the Great Depression. The period featured a transformation from the issues of the Third Party System, instead focusing on domestic issues such as regulation of railroads and large corporations , the money issue , the protective tariff, the role of labor unions, child labor, the need for a new banking system, corruption in party politics, primary elections, direct election of senators, racial segregation, efficiency in government, womenâs suffrage, and control of immigration. Foreign policy centered on the 1898 Spanish-American War, Imperialism, the Mexican Revolution, World War I, and the creation of the League of Nations.

Don’t Miss: Who Were The Leaders Of The Radical Republicans?

Demographics Of American Liberals

A 2005 Pew Research Center study found that liberals were the most educated ideological demographic and were tied with the conservative sub-group of the enterprisers for the most affluent group. Of those who identified as liberal, 49% were college graduates and 41% had household incomes exceeding $75,000, compared to 27% and 28% as the national average, respectively. Liberalism has become the dominant political ideology in academia, with 44â62% identifying as liberal, depending on the exact wording of the survey. This compares with 40â46% liberal identification in surveys from 1969 to 1984. The social sciences and humanities were most liberal whereas business and engineering departments were the least liberal, although even in the business departments liberals outnumbered conservatives by two to one. This feeds the common question of whether liberals are on average more educated than conservatives, their political counterparts. Two Zogby surveys from 2008 and 2010 affirm that self-identified liberals tend to go to college more than self-identified conservatives. Polls have found that young Americans are considerably more liberal than the general population. As of 2009, 30% of the 18â29 cohort was liberal. In 2011, this had changed to 28%, with moderates picking up the two percent.

Survey Of The Site For The Federal City Of Washington

An Act for establishing the temporary and permanent seat of the Government of the United States, was signed into law on July 16, 1790. After giving cursory consideration to other locations, George Washington selected a site for the seat of government with which he was very familiarâthe banks of the Potomac River at the confluence of its Eastern Branch, just above his home at Mount Vernon. Andrew Ellicott , federal surveyor of the District of Columbia, prepared this plan in 1792 of what would become the District of Columbia. The outline of the cityâs grid system and the location of the Capitol, the Presidentâs House, and the mall are clearly visible.

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Don’t Miss: Democrats For Trump

‘trumpism Is Not Dead’: Gov Gavin Newsom Wins California Recall Battle And Slams Former President For Suggesting The Election Was Rigged As Top Republican Hopeful Larry Elder Says ‘let’s Be Gracious In Defeat’

Californians went to the polls Tuesday to decide whether Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom gets to keep his job in a special recall election;

Newsom won easily with the race called within an hour of polls being closed in the state – and he proclaimed victory from Sacramento;

‘Democracy is not a football. You don’t just throw it around. It’s more like, I don’t know, an antique vase,’ Newsom said in his victory speech, calling out ex-President Donald Trump for saying the race was ‘rigged’;

Republican Larry Elder was the candidate most likely to replace Newsom;

Instead of challenging the result, Elder said at his election night party in Orange County: ‘Let’s be gracious in defeat’ and kept the door open for a run next year when Newsom is on the ballot again;

Liberalism During The Cold War

American liberalism of the Cold War era was the immediate heir to Franklin D. Roosevelt‘s New Deal and the somewhat more distant heir to the progressives of the early 20th century. Rossinow argues that after 1945 the left-liberal alliance that operated during the New Deal years split apart for good over the issue of Communism. Anti-Communist liberals led by Walter Reuther and Hubert Humphrey expelled the far-left from labor unions and the New Deal coalition and committed the Democratic Party to a strong Cold War policy typified by NATO and the containment of Communism. Liberals became committed to a quantitative goal of economic growth that accepted large near-monopolies such as General Motors and AT&T while rejecting the structural transformation dreamed of by earlier left-liberals. The far-left had its last hurrah in Henry A. Wallace‘s 1948 third-party presidential campaign. Wallace supported further New Deal reforms and opposed the Cold War, but his campaign was taken over by the far-left and Wallace retired from politics in disgust.

Most prominent and constant among the positions of Cold War liberalism were the following:

In some ways, this resembled what in other countries was referred to as social democracy. However, American liberals never widely endorsed nationalization of industry like European social democrats, instead favoring regulation for public benefit.

You May Like: What Caused Republicans To Gain Power In Congress In 1938

First Bank Of The United States

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William Birch & Son. Bank of the United States with a View of Third St. Philadelphia, from The City of Philadelphia in the State of Pennsylvania, North America, As it Appeared in the Year 1800. . . . Hand-colored engraving. Springland, Pennsylvania: William Birch and Son, 1800. Rare Book and Special Collections Division, Library of Congress

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Linking Jeffersonian Republicans To The French Revolution

Trumps RNC wrap up put the ‘fear of God’ into the Democrats

In 1792, political pamphleteer William Cobbett settled in Philadelphia and began writing pro-English and anti-Republican articles under the pseudonym Peter Porcupine. Cobbett once described Thomas Jefferson as a deist, a Frenchman in politics and morality and a man as much qualified to be president as I am to be an Archbishop!

Stop the Wheels of Government, illustration in Peter Porcupineâs Political Censor or Monthly Review of the Most Interesting Political Occurrences Relative to the United States of America. Philadelphia: William Cobbett, April 1796. Rare Book and Special Collections Division, Library of Congress

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Recommended Reading: Did Trump Say Republicans Are Stupid

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