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iril-the-warlock · 2 years

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Chapter 2 of my swarm in Mha fic below!

Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Dehaka/Izsha, Sarah Kerrigan, Yaoyorozu Momo Yaoyorozu, Momo's Parents, Dehaka (StarCraft), Izsha (StarCraft), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, starcraft elements in mha, changes to how the swarm works as a quirk, Quirk Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Yaoyorozu Momo is a Good Friend, Ghost (Starcraft) Momo Yaoyorozu, Queen of Blades - Freeform

Thirteen years later finds Sarah and Momo locked in a heated battle during one of their Saturday sparring matches as they train for UA.

Sarah ducks under Momo's punch as she throws a jab into the taller girls stomach before sliding around behind and kicking out her knee to throw Momo to the floor. Slamming her bone-wings into the mat around Momo and locking her in place as she gets Momo into a headlock. "Yield!"

Momo struggles for another moment, trying to break the headlock or toss Sarah off of her before tapping the mat three times. "Damnit Sarah, I'll beat you one of these days."

Sarah scoffs as she lets momo up. "You say that like you don't have me beat at any range over 5 meters."

"That's because we don't use your swarm in spars and you know it, those hydralisks you made would snipe me from 200 meters."

Sarah shrugs. "Sure, but I don't want to be reliant on just the swarm for resolving fights." Sarah lays back on the mat. "I think we should get you some support gear for your longer range fights, maybe a sniper rifle?"

Momo shivers as she drinks from her water. "My dad mentioned recruiting a support specialist from I-island for some assistance. Apparently he got a call from one of his old contacts on the island who said she was going to work on applying to UA next year and needed a place to stay while attending. Dad being Dad invited her to stay here in exchange for helping us with our gear."

"Oooh, what's their name? Anyone we know?"

A smug smile spreads across Momo’s face. "Melissa shield."

Sarah gasps and tackles Momo. "No way! She's a support gear celebrity!" Sarah squeals as she settles on her friend. "Momo this is huge, we're going to be so set up for UA they won't know what hit them."

Momo wheezes as Sarah lays on top of her. "Sarah, Babe, best friend. Get the fuck off of me."

"Oh, right yeah. Sorry." Sarah rolls off of her, letting her tail catch her as she splays her wings out behind herself, resting her head on her arm. "Not sure I'll ever get used to being like twice as dense as you, and that's saying something miss 'high density fat cells for her quirk'." Sarah sighs, letting her wings flop to the ground.

"You say that like your torso being immune to small arms fire isn't a good thing." Momo looks thoughtful. "Maybe Melissa could make body armor similar to your carapace."

Sarah sighs dreamily, red dusting her cheeks. "Must you tease me with my celebrity crush?"

Momo giggles as she sits up patting Sarah's thigh. "At least you're wearing clothes nowadays."

"It was one time! I was four!" Sarah gasps in indignant shock. She quickly summons and throws a larva at Momo before rolling onto her stomach and burning her head. "My friend is so mean to me, woe is me. How will I ever recover?"

Momo catches the larva and stands before lightly kicking her friend while she's down. "Yes yes, poor pitiful Sarah, woe be upon you with your adorable swarm and powerful mutations."

Sarah pops up and grabs her larva back from Momo. "Whatever madam 'I can make any inorganic item I want and could break the economy in minutes with a big lunch.'"

The girls stare each other down for a moment before breaking out in giggles and heading towards the gym showers to get out of their workout gear. Sarah sets the larva down and instructs it to morph into raptorlings as she gets out of her gym clothes to grab a quick shower. "Guard the doors you two." She pets the raptors as she heads to the shower.

As Sarah exits the shower area and wraps up in a towel to get dried off and dressed again she asks Momo. "Is your dad setting Melissa up with a workshop while she's here?"

Momo sits wrapped in her towel to brush out her hair. "Yeah, he's planning on setting up a workshop out back near your field since there's plenty of space for her to test out some of her inventions."

"Cool." Sarah runs a towel through her hair spines. "So I was talking with mom the other day and we figured out that my hair is a more limited version of her quirks mutation. So my hair isn't just freaky tentacles, they're actually psionic antennae."

"Oooh, so can you do your mom's jedi mind trick too?"

"Nah, the most I can do is read surface level thoughts and send a few sentences, but it gives me a headache since I'm not super used to it yet."

"Very cool. You know that sometimes it feels like your parents are a wild quirk marriage since your quirk is bullshit."

"I mean, yeah their quirks are super compatible, but they also love the heck out of each other. Just be glad you don't see them get all lovey dovey all the time, it's a wonder I don't have a younger sibling sometimes."

"Okay, moving on because I don't need to hear about any of our parents bedroom lives, thanks Sarah." She throws a smaller towel at her face. "Did you ever figure out that larva spawning creature?"

Sarah wipes the towel off her face and grabs one of her larger scrunchies her mom got her. "Yeah, I can show you later, but I think I'll call them queens, since they spawn other stuff, and the foods they're from are super weird."

"What'd you use to make them?"

Sarah gives a half grimace. "They're a mix of gator, lizard and eel. And they make this purplish mucus stuff that is just creepy to look at, but it seems to make the larva happy so I guess we're keeping it."

"Any supply issues?" Momo ties her hair back with a ribbon as they both stand to get dressed. "You were at 10 last month right?"

Sarah pulls her jeans on, using the button at the back to secure them around her tail. "Yeah, I think I'm going to take this month and see if I can figure out something to help offload some of the supply issues, it's gotta be possible since octopuses have that whole decentralized nervous system thing. So I'm hoping I can mix that and something that can burrow to hide or maybe something armored so they are harder to take out."

"Sounds fun! We can do sushi and you can try a shellfish that might do it? Maybe lobster?" Momo's musing on food are broken by her stomach rumbling. "Maybe soon I guess, I'll text the sushi chef real quick and we can eat dinner in the dining area." As they leave Sarah mentally directs the 'lings off towards the field.

After lunch Sarah and momo split off to practice their quirks, Sitting down near her field and beginning to channel her essences from her recent meal.

'So if I twist the octopus and lobster along with some of the essences from the egg in the rice…' As the strands twist and change shape, eventually she winds them into a central mass with twisting appendages that tie together in a brain-shaped husk covered in shell like chitin. 'That doesn't look too bad, let's see how it functions.'

Summoning the new creature type into the field, she sees as it rapidly grows to about two meters around and about one meter above the ground while she can tell it has spread further below ground. The slight weight along her mental shoulders lessens as it reaches its full size and she can feel it growing slightly lighter. 'Seems like that worked, let's do some tests on how many that gets me up to before I see about creating more of them.'

A few minutes later, Sarah gets up to a new maximum of 18 sets of 'lings along with her new creature. 'Seems like that each one gets me another 8 supply of creatures, let's try making another one before I figure out a name for them.' As the second one grows to its full size Sarah feels the limit reach higher again before a twinge of hunger flashes over her.

A desire to consume any and all food nearby builds at the back of her mind, easily suppressed at its current level, but a concern to be aware of for a higher supply limit. As she dismisses several of her 'lings she feels the desire lessen but remains lightly at the back of her mind.

'Okay, so I can go above my normal supply with them, but I'll need to be careful about that.' Standing and walking near the central mass of the first one she summoned, she snaps a selfie and sends it over to Momo.

Shortly after, her phone rings with Momo's contact. Momo's voice rings out as she answers. "Sarah why does it look like you're posing near a brain?"

"Hey Momo, the look super weird but the octopus and lobster worked for the supply increasing idea. Also there's possibly maybe slightly an issue with going too high over my limit."

Momo takes note of Sarah's waffling in her response. "Uh-huh, you going to go all 'queen of blades and her murder swarm' on us?"

Sarah blushes, embarrassed over the idea. "Look, we were six, we were playing heroes and villains and my mutations make me look like a great villain, okay?"

Momo steamrolls over her blustering. "Yeah, and you know I'd be with you if you take over the world, right?" Momo hmms as Sarah sputters on the other end of the line. "Anyway, what's the issue with going over your limit?"

Sarah sighs. "The issue would be that I could lose control of the swarm, they go rampant and devour all life on the planet or in the galaxy?"

"So you figured out space travel then?"

"Momo I'm being serious!"

"Yeah, but I trust you not to go over your limits to that extent and if you do I promise I'll stop you before you destroy the world, okay?"

"Okay" a soft smile finds its way onto Sarah's face. "Anyway, I'm thinking cerebrate for the name on them since they're kinda brain looking, what do you think?"

"Yeah that fits from the photo you sent. How much do they help?"

"With just one I can get up to 36 raptorlings out before hitting my limit and that whole hunger thing becomes a bit worse if I go for a second cerebrate."

"Daaaang gurl, the villains won't know what hit them. Seriously though, If you ever go villain you better have me on your side."

Sarah sputters again. "M-Momo no, I'm not going to be a villain."

"I don't know, if something ended up sending you down that path it'd have to be super messed up."

A heavy sigh comes across the line to Momo. "I promise Momo, if I go villain, you'll be invited."

"Great! Anyway, I figured out how to swap metals during the creation process from a blueprint, now I can use tungsten on my staffs."

"That's awesome Momo!" Sarah lays down on her nearby hammock, letting her wings wrap around herself and her tail flop to the side. "Think you'll start gold plating your weapons too? Maybe golden brass knuckles?"

"Maybe, I was thinking of trying to use more titanium and heavier metals like tungsten in my tools now that I can swap them in a bit easier." A similar flopping sound can be heard from Momo's end of the phone as she settles onto her couch in her training room. "I'm going to definitely have to work with Melissa when she gets here. Hopefully we can come up with some neat ideas using my quirk for quick prototyping."

"Ahh, I almost forgot she's coming here. Do you know when she'll arrive?"

Momo hmms. "Dad was pretty vague on it, but hopefully she has some time to settle in before her exams for UA."

"Agreed, celebrity crush or not, the practical exams are no joke for UA. I'm sure she has the written exams in the bag though, coming from I-Island and all."

–Sarah's swarm compendium–

Raptorling: a swarm essence created through manipulation of chicken, lizard and small quantities of dog essences. These four legged creatures have large wings along their back haunches allowing for rapid elevation changes including jumping up and down cliff edges. Their sharp mandibles at their jaw allow them to rapidly tear through many materials with assistance from two spiked claws along their front shoulder joints while stationary.

Their powerful musculature allows them to rapidly close in on a target, while their moderate armor can stop small arms fire with ease. Once Sarah began using larva for spawning her swarm units it was discovered that these raptorlings can be summoned in pairs while only taking a single supply per pair, allowing for rapid force multiplication among quick engagements with their rapid breeding pace. Their powerful quadriceps allow them to rapidly leap at a target from up to 10 meters away.

Raptorlings embody what the swarm means to both Sarah Kerrigan and her enemies as their large groups of attackers, ranging from dozens to a hundred in her pro hero years. Raptorlings attack quickly, move even faster, and scout through streets in packs as small as twos while providing information back to Sarah.

Few weaknesses are known about swarm units, though it is known among Sarah's friends that her raptorlings are allergic to lemon juice due to their odd makeup.

#Graphic Depictions Of Violence #Dehaka/Izsha #Sarah Kerrigan #Yaoyorozu Momo #Yaoyorozu Momo's Parents #Dehaka (StarCraft)#Izsha (StarCraft)#Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence #Crossover #starcraft elements in mha #changes to how the swarm works as a quirk #Quirk Shenanigans (My Hero Academia)#Yaoyorozu Momo is a Good Friend #Ghost (starcraft) Momo Yaoyorozu #Queen of Blades #my hero academia #mha #starcraft #iril writes

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tina--bean · 3 years

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In need of some help. My girlfriend and I were discussing what our Mastermind specialist subject would be and because I have way too much time on my hands due to this pandemic, I thought it would be funny to make her her own quiz and really test her knowledge.

Now, she’s an avid watcher of Bad Girls and decided that would be her subject.

She has made me watch the show and I loved it but due to binge watching all eight series, I now remember very little and so I can’t come up with questions that would really test her without huge research and I know the show has a huge following.

What I’m asking is if anyone has any question that would test her knowledge - throw it my way and I shall add it! Can be anything - eps, couples, characters, background info, etc!

Thank you!

#bad girls #Helen x Nikki #Yvonne Atkins #Pat Kerrigan #tv show #simone lahbib #Denny blood #I have no idea what tags will get this the most attention #Helen Stewart #Nikki Wade #Costa Cons #EastEnders #Emmerdale

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nikkiandhelen · 5 years

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Pat Kerrigan in every episode | 7x13

#bad girls uk #pat kerrigan #pkevep*#i didn't plan for the christmas ep to land in this month NOICE #series seven #7x13 #bad girls #my gifs

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ocmerunaway · 3 years

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Nikita Marie Perry has always trusted her destiny, but after she is left to ‘rot’ in jail she finds that only the sure way that Pat and Sheena look after her makes her feel safe... She can only trust them now, and hope...

#pat kerrigan #sheena williams #nikita marie perry #bad girls

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baby-grayson · 4 years

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Sweet Enigma: Part 2

Word Count: 2918

Tag List: @wheezeatmedolans @styles-dolan @prettyboydolan @evergreendolan @baby-turtles @dolanstacoma @not-gbd @graysavant @someonetogray @dolansficsandpics @ batgirl099 @voguekristens

Grayson’s eyes shifted from his seat in Kate’s car to his front door. His mouth folded into a tight ball, while he huffed out of his nose. His weak sinus responded by triggering a cough that filled the space of Kate’s car.

She winced and gave him a sideways glance from the driver’s side, “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

Grayson nodded and cleared his throat. He ran a hand through his hair and looked down, thankful to see that he was no longer wet—although he was highly disheveled. He pushed the passenger side door open and convinced his legs to walk toward his front door.

For a moment, he second guessed whether his key would open his own front door. Something about his house made it seem like foreign territory, like it belonged to another version of Grayson with much different priorities than the one that walked over that threshold.

Almost immediately, Grayson was faced with the tall, looming, svelte figure of Calvin Maddox.

Calvin Maddox was a slim shouldered, lengthy man with perfectly kept white hair: who walked with all the power, elegance, and traditionalism that came with having old money. Maddox had inherited a fortune from his bloodline: he maintained his money via his status as a Real Estate Tycoon in the deep South. Up until the night before, Calvin had liked Grayson. He had looked forward to being his father-in-law one day. Calvin would have never uttered this out loud in front of his family, but he even favored Grayson over his current son-in-law, Sherry’s sister Coral’s husband, Jackson White.

In that moment, Calvin’s steely blue eyes were forged with hatred and detest while he looked down his nose at Grayson while he made his way through the front door. Calvin’s figure reminded Grayson of a wolf, as the older man prowled his way across the living room and silently stepped in front of Grayson’s path. For a second, Grayson could have sworn he saw the man snarl at him.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Calvin’s Southern accent was thick and slathered with a calm anger, “Walking through that door, like nothing ever happened.” Grayson’s pupils trembled in his eyes as Calvin crossed his arms.

“I-uh,” Grayson stammered, “I just wanted to get a few things. I’m uh—I’m sorry—I am but—I’m not looking for a problem.” Grayson held out his palms in from of him, taking in a few shaky breaths. Calvin stepped toward Grayson, keeping his arms crossed. “You know my daughter wasn’t looking for a problem when she agreed to be your wife. But now I’m wondering if that’s really the case, son.” In the past year, Calvin had started calling Grayson ‘son’, in act of Southern hospitality. Usually, Grayson found it comforting; on that day, the word was charged with antagonistic energy.

Grayson gulped down, feeling his heart pound from deep within his chest. He opened his mouth to say something but found his entire mouth was dry, with his tongue hanging heavy against his palette.

“Now,” Calvin took another step toward Grayson. He narrowed his eyes at Grayson before continuing, “You want to tell me what happened last night Grayson.” Calvin took another step toward Grayson, leaving only a few inches of space between them, “Or are we going to have a problem?”

Grayson went blank, staring up at the older man with wide eyes and shallow breaths. His tongue flopped inside of his mouth, failing to create anything that could become coherent words. His bottom lip trembled as he tried to find a response that could face the moment.

From inside the house, behind the pair, a few footsteps came sauntering through the hallway.

“Hey,” Ethan’s voice was low and calm, “What’s going on out here?”

Grayson’s eyes immediately found Ethan’s: a pair of unsure, nervous eyes meeting an identical pair laced with assurance and relief.

Calvin did not shift from his position in front of Grayson. “Nothing Ethan,” he looked over his shoulder to find Ethan standing in an identical position: crossed arms and steely eyes. Calvin dropped his hands at his sides and stepped back from Grayson’s personal space, “Just asking your brother if he could explain why he decided to break my baby girl’s heart last night.” Grayson gulped again. He saw an accomplished look wash through Calvin’s eyes for a moment.

Calvin looked down, surprised to see Ethan place a hand on his shoulder, “I think my brother will talk, when he’s ready to talk.”

Grayson’s mouth fell into a tight line and he pushed his shoulders back: trying to feign confidence. Ethan patted Calvin’s shoulder chummily, nearly mocking the tension of the moment, “C’mon Calvin, I think you should eat something.” Grayson was extremely grateful to see Ethan lead the man away coolly. Finally alone in the room, Grayson breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t aware of it at the time, but Ethan had made excuses for Grayson’s disappearance the night before. In the weeks prior, Ethan had noticed his brother’s confidence slowly fade into a squirrelfish demeaner: he knew it was just a matter of time until Grayson’s façade broke. Ethan was shocked that Grayson chose his own engagement party to accept his inner qualms. Ethan wrote it off as another example of Grayson being the dumber twin.

From the car, Kate pulled down the sun visor in her car to inspect herself in the mirror. While Grayson mentally sparred with Calvin Maddox in the house, Kate discovered a few stress pimples forming between her temple and her left eye. She sighed and bored holes into the front door with her eyes, silently begging Grayson to come back as quickly as possible. She looked back in the mirror to recognize the under-eye bags and frizzy, unkept hair that came as a consolation prize with being a third-year doctoral student.

Grayson’s steps were hurried and frantic as he raced to his own bedroom: barely recognizing it under the hoards of overturned drawers and bags laying out the room. In a manic fit, Sherry had scoured and destroyed everything she could get her hands on, in a mad effort to understand where Grayson had gone and why he would want to leave her. Grayson’s heart stopped for a second, but his mind emphasized the importance of haste.

Moving quickly, he grabbed his orange, leather, Louis Vuitton duffel bag from the top shelf of his closet. He shuffled through piles of clothing to find the few pieces he though he would need in the coming days. He didn’t pay attention to the shoes he grabbed from his closet, putting whatever he found first in the bag. He was looking down at the bag, taking an inventory of what he had packed when the door to his on-suite bathroom slowly opened with a painful screech on its hinges.

In the door frame, was the image of Grayson’s exhausted, angry, and frenzied fiancé.

Sherry Kerrigan Maddox was drawn into the world with womanly curves and a Cheshire Cat smile. She knew nothing except for the high-class, debutante life of a Southern heiress. She grew up trailing her mother and sister at high-profile events: wearing big hats, drinking sweet iced tea, and laughing politely at the jokes of the country’s richest southern dynasties.

Sherry spent most of her teenage life away from her mother and father, attending a private boarding school with her older sister, Coral. Unlike Coral, Sherry never did particularly well in school. The only subject she was ever mildly interested in was French, which she learned to speak with superb proficiency, something that came in handy with her future modeling career. Once, Sherry had cried when she was handed a math test. Her teacher, who had just graduated from college, excused Sherry from taking the test in an act of kindness, not wanting to subject a young girl to public emotional strife. When the board of Sherry’s private school found out, they threated Sherry with suspension on the order of disobedience and violating the academic validity code. A cool word and hot money from Calvin Maddox promised that the teacher would be let go from the school, while his daughter could continue to happily doodle in her notebooks and forget about Algebra.

She was, objectively, beautiful. Her round face was complimented with full cheeks and a soft jawline. Her blue eyes were wide but almond shaped: inherently sensual. She wore a strong, arched brow: the brunette color of which exposed her as a fake blonde. But her hair was a gorgeous golden hue, always sitting exactly perfectly on her head. Sherry Maddox knew, quite well, that lipstick lasted longer, but always preferred to wear gloss, because it was more fun.

Her voice was choked with waves of torment, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Every muscle in Grayson’s body stiffened. In a deep place, he knew this conversation was coming he just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He swallowed hard, meeting his lips together in a flat pout. He let out a hard breath as Sherry spoke again, “What are you doing here?” Grayson didn’t turn to face her, “Sherry-I-“ “NO!” Her usual Southern elegance was gone from her presence, replaced with the unhinged pain of a woman with a broken heart, “You don’t get to say my name! You don’t get to just,” she motioned her arms in the air, “waltz in here!”

Grayson stammered and turned to find Sherry with tears in her eyes, shaking a pointed finger at him. He closed his mouth.

“So?” Her voice held a sharp edge, “You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” She gritted her teeth, “You leave me there. Alone. In front of everyone. And you can’t even apologize.”

Grayson exhaled; his jaw shook in the attempt at finding something to say. He signed, “I’m sorry. I—I don’t know—I” Sherry interrupted him, “You? You embarrassed me? You humiliated me? You left me to explain to TMZ and Page6 why you weren’t there? You left me there to listen to Ethan’s pathetic excuses for you?” She sneered at him, “You must think I’m really stupid.”

Grayson reached an arm behind him, placing it on his duffel bag. He silently wished that he could run away, and leave this moment frozen for a more prepared Grayson to handle. “I don’t think that Sherry. I just –I need time.” His eyes pleaded with her; his heart felt like it was being plucked at by a thousand angry, clawed birds.

Sherry laughed: a cold laugh without an ounce of humor in her face. “You need time?” Her voice was vicious. “You need? Wow. We’re talking about what you need. What about what I need? What about the fact that I needed you last night? Thought didn’t cross your mind did it?”

Grayson’s face folded into a pained position, “I’m sorry Sherry. I really am. I—We—I can’t do this anymore.” In one swift motion, Grayson picked up his duffel bag and headed for the door. He tried to block out the sounds of Sherry’s cries and screams.

Making his way to Kate’s car, Grayson’s internal structure was panged with guilt. His mind tremored with the realization of the gravity of his actions.

Grayson landed in Kate’s passenger seat in a hectic, distressed position. Kate silently wished she had suggested that Grayson call Ethan to collect his things. Grayson turned to face her; a distraught form of inner terror palpable in his eyes.

His voice was low, “We’re really doing this.”

She gave him a sideways glance, “You’re really doing this.”

Grayson’s mouth flatlined. His jaw locked with tension and guilt. He thought back to Sherry, peering at the front door through the car window, he turned to face Kate.

The wounds in his heart burned when she said, “I’m not the one who needs a second chance because I treated you right the first time.”

The car ride to Kate’s apartment was silent except for the gentle buzz of her engine. She parked on the street and didn’t say a word to Grayson as she exited the car.

With her keys dangling in her hand, she quickly marched up the stairs and through her front door. Her energy was fluxed by the sight of Wesley in her living room. “Hey,” his voice was heavy with concern, “I texted you. I thought we were going for breakfast this morning?” His big brown eyes were weighed down with his care for her.

Kate’s mouth went dry as he tongues floundered for a moment, “Sorry—I must have forgotten. You know how things have been lately, I’ve been working more than I’ve been breathing.” Her words mushed together, making her sentence sound like one over-extended syllable.

Wesley stood up and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, “You doing alright Katie? I’ve been worried about you but this—this isn’t like you.” He gently thumbed her clavicle, “Maybe you should put work down for a little bit.”

Kate shook her head quickly, “No-I mean yes. Yes. That’s exactly what I am going to do. I was going to call you. I’m leaving. For now. To go to..Philly! I’m going to spend time with my mom in Philly.” She nodded enthusiastically, trying to fake a smile.

Wesley seemed satisfied with this answer, as his eyes lost some of their murk, “Good. I’m happy for you. When are you leaving?” “Today!” Kate’s answer came a bit too fast and too loud.

Wesley furrowed his brow, “And when are you getting back? Maybe we can take a weekend together before you go back to work?”

“I’m not sure,” Kate gave a weak shrug, “I didn’t book my return ticket yet.” She sucked in her top lip, “I was going to wait—for the weather. Wouldn’t want to book a ticket during a snowstorm.” Wesley placed a gentle kiss on her head, “Say hi to your mom for me. And remember, I’m a phone call away.” Kate’s own heart betrayed her as her pulse quickened under Wesley’s lips, “Will do.” She sighed in relief when she stepped away and headed for the door, “Enjoy your trip. Love you Katie.” “Love y-“ Wesley shut the front door and she did not finish.

Kate was emotionally uncomfortable. Not from lying to Wesley because this was not the first time she had lied to him. She was uncomfortable with how nearly comfortable she was in this dialogue.

She shifted her emotions to a distant place in her mind, deciding to struggle with them later. She worked methodically to pack a backpack with the clothes and toiletries she would need for the trip. At the bottom of her closet, she pulled out a shoebox with the two t-shirts and one pair of sweatpants she was left with after breaking up with Grayson. She included the pieces in her backpack, figuring this was as good a chance as any to give them back to him.

Hustling out of her door, she looked down to see her school bag thrown against the floor. She picked it up, her research in the back of her mind. With two backpacks and a jacket slung over her shoulder, she made her way to Grayson in her car outside.

Kate shoved her things in the back seat, next to Grayson’s duffel bag. With a huff, she dropped herself in the driver’s seat and turned to face Grayson.

He started first, “I’m sorry.” He spoke quickly, “I’m so sorry. I know I’m dragging you into this when you don’t deserve to be here. I should have never assumed that you would even be remotely interested in trying to—” Kate held up a finger to his lips. “This is my decision too.” Her voice was steady, the opposite of his frenzied tone. Grayson shook his head, his mouth felt sparks under her slender finger. “You’re not responsible for sorting through my emotions.” She looked at him, a serene balance in her eyes. She spoke with a confidence, “If I didn’t want to help you, I wouldn’t be here.”

#im proud of how i wrote this #i usually think i am a shit writer #so this is a new feeling for me #i really hope you like it #grayson dolan #fanfic #grayson x oc #dolan twins #ethan #ethan dolan #grayson #youtuber #long fic #series #blurb #concept #romance #angst

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gilmoregirlsrevival2016 · 4 years

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Season 1 Gilmore Girls References (Breakdown)

Yay! All the season 1 references have been posted. Before I start posting season 2, I wanted to post this little breakdown for your enjoyment :) It starts with some statistics and then below the cut is a list of all the specific references.

Overall amount of references in season 1: 605

Top 10 Most Common References: NSYNC (5), Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (5), Taylor Hanson (6), Leo Tolstoy (7), Lucky Spencer (7), Marcel Proust (7), PJ Harvey (7), The Bangles (8), The Donna Reed Show (8), William Shakespeare (10)

Which episodes had the most references: #1 is That Damn Donna Reed with 55 references. #2 is Christopher Returns with 44 references

What characters made the most references (Only including characters/actors who were in the opening credits): Lorelai had the most with 237 references, Rory had second most with 118, and Lane had third most with 48.

First reference of the season: Jack Kerouac referenced by Lorelai

Final reference of the season: Adolf Eichmann referenced by Michel

Movies/TV Shows/Episodes/Characters, Commercials, Cartoons/Cartoon Characters, Plays, Documentaries:

9 1/2 Weeks, Alex Stone, Alfalfa, An Affair To Remember, A Streetcar Named Desire, Attack Of The Fifty Foot Woman, Avon Commercials, Bambi, Beethoven, Boogie Nights, Cabaret, Casablanca, Charlie's Angels, Charlie Brown cartoons, Christine, Cinderella, Citizen Kane, Daisy Duke, Damien Thorn, Dawson Leery, Donna Stone, Double Indemnity, Double Mint Commercials, Ethel Mertz, Everest, Felix Unger, Fiddler On The Roof, Footloose, Freaky Friday, Fred Mertz, Gaslight, General Hospital, G.I. Jane, Gone With The Wind, Grease, Hamlet, Heathers, Hee Haw, House On Haunted Hill, Ice Castles, I Love Lucy, Iron Chef, Ishtar, Jeff Stone, Joanie Loves Chachi, John Shaft, Lady And The Tramp, Life With Judy Garland: Me And My Shadows, Love Story, Lucky Spencer, Lucy Raises Chickens, Lucy Ricardo, Lucy Van Pelt, Macbeth, Magnolia, Mary Stone, Mask, Midnight Express, Misery, Norman Bates, Officer Krupke, Oompa Loompas, Old Yeller, Oscar Madison, Out Of Africa, Patton, Pepe Le Pew, Peyton Place, Pink Ladies, Pinky Tuscadero, Ponyboy, Psycho, Queen Of Outer Space, Rapunzel, Richard III, Ricky Ricardo, Rocky Dennis, Romeo And Juliet, Rosemary's Baby, Sandy Olsson, Saved By The Bell, Saving Private Ryan, Schindler's List, Schroeder, Sesame Street, Seven Brides For Seven Brothers, Sex And The City, Sixteen Candles, Sleeping Beauty, Star Trek, Stanley Kowalski, Stella Kowalski, Stretch Cunningham, The Champ, The Comedy Of Errors, The Crucible, The Donna Reed Show, The Duke's Of Hazzard, The Fly, The Great Santini, The Little Match Girl, The Matrix, The Miracle Worker, The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Outsiders, The Shining, The Sixth Sense, The View, The Waltons, The Way We Were, The Scarecrow, This Old House, V.I.P., Valley Of The Dolls, Vulcans, Wild Kingdom, Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory, Wheel Of Fortune, Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf, Working Girl, Yogi Bear, You're A Good Man Charlie Brown

Bands, Songs, CDs:

98 Degrees, Air Supply, Apple Venus Volume 2, Backstreet Boys, Bee Gees, Black Sabbath, Blue Man Group, Blur, Bon Jovi, Boston, Bush, Duran Duran, Everlong, Foo Fighters, Fugazi, Grandaddy, Hanson, I'm Too Sexy, Joy Division, Jumpin' Jack Flash, Kraftwerk, Like A Virgin, Livin La Vida Loca, Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds, Man I Feel Like A Woman, Metallica, Money Money, My Ding-A-Ling, NSYNC, On The Good Ship Lollipop, Pink Moon, Queen, Rancid, Sergeant Pepper, Shake Your Bon Bon, Siouxsie And The Banshees, Sister Sledge, Smoke On The Water, Steely Dan, Suppertime, Tambourine Man, The B-52s, The Bangles, The Beatles, The Best Of Blondie, The Cranberries, The Cure, The Offspring, The Sugarplastic, The Wallflowers, The Velvet Underground, Walk Like An Egyptian, XTC, Ya Got Trouble, Young Marble Giants

Books/Book Characters, Comic Books/Comic Book Characters, Comic Strips:

A Mencken Chrestomathy, A Tale Of Two Cities, Anna Karenina, Belle Watling, Boo Radley, Carrie, David Copperfield, Dick Tracy, Dopey (One of the seven dwarfs) Goofus And Gallant, Great Expectations, Grinch, Hannibal Lecter, Hansel And Gretel, Harry Potter (book as well as character referenced), Huckleberry Finn, Little Dorrit, Madame Bovary, Moby Dick, Mommie Dearest, Moose Mason, Nancy Drew, Out Of Africa, Pinocchio, Swann's Way, The Amityville Horror, The Art Of Fiction, The Bell Jar, The Grapes Of Wrath, The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, The Lost Weekend, The Metamorphosis, The Portable Dorothy Parker, The Unabridged Journals Of Sylvia Plath, The Witch Tree Symbol, There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Tuesdays With Morrie, War And Peace, Wonder Woman

Public Figures:

Adolf Eichmann, Alfred Hitchcock, Angelina Jolie, Anna Nicole Smith, Annie Oakley, Antonio Banderas, Arthur Miller, Artie Shaw, Barbara Hutton, Barbara Stanwyck, Barbra Streisand, Beck, Ben Jonson, Benito Mussolini, Billy Bob Thornton, Billy Crudup, Bob Barker, Brad Pitt, Britney Spears, Catherine The Great, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Charles I, Charles Dickens, Charles Manson, Charlie Parker, Charlotte Bronte, Charlton Heston, Charo, Cher, Cheryl Ladd, Chris Penn, Christiane Amanpour, Christopher Marlowe, Chuck Berry, Claudine Longet, Cleopatra, Cokie Roberts, Courtney Love, Dalai Lama, Damon Albarn, Dante Alighieri, David Mamet, Donna Reed, Edith Wharton, Edna O'Brien, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Elizabeth Webber, Elle Macpherson, Elsa Klensch, Elvis, Emeril Lagasse, Emily Dickinson, Emily Post, Eminem, Emma Goldman, Errol Flynn, Fabio, Farrah Fawcett, Fawn Hall, Flo Jo, Francis Bacon, Frank Sinatra, Franz Kafka, Fred MacMurray, Friedrich Nietzsche, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Gene Hackman, Gene Wilder, George Clooney, George Sand, George W. Bush, Harry Houdini, Harvey Fierstein, Henny Youngman, Henry David Thoreau, Henry James, Henry VIII, Herman Melville, Homer, Honore De Balzac, Howard Cosell, Hugh Grant, Hunter Thompson, Jack Kerouac, Jaclyn Smith, James Dean, Jane Austen, Jean-Paul Sartre, Jennifer Lopez, Jessica Tandy, Jim Carey, Jim Morrison, Jimmy Hoffa, Joan Of Arc, Joan Rivers, Jocelyn Wildenstein, Joel Grey, John Cage, John Gardner, John Muir, John Paul II, John Webster, Johnny Cash, Johnny Depp, Joseph Merrick AKA Elephant Man, Judy Blume, Judy Garland, Julian Lennon, Justin Timberlake, Karen Blixen AKA Isak Dinesen, Kate Jackson, Kathy Bates, Kevin Bacon, Kreskin, Lee Harvey Oswald, Leo Tolstoy, Leopold and Loeb, Lewis Carroll, Linda McCartney, Liz Phair, Liza Minnelli, Lou Reed, M Night Shyamalan, Macy Gray, Madonna, Marcel Marceau, Marcel Proust, Margot Kidder, Marie Antoinette, Marie Curie, Marilyn Monroe, Mark Twain, Mark Wahlberg, Marlin Perkins, Martha Stewart, Martha Washington, Martin Luther, Mary Kay Letourneau, Maurice Chevalier, Melissa Rivers, Meryl Streep, Michael Crichton, Michael Douglas, Michelle Pfeiffer, Miguel De Cervantes, Miss Manners, Mozart, Nancy Kerrigan, Nancy Walker, Nick Cave, Nick Drake, Nico, Oliver North, Oprah Winfrey, Oscar Levant, Pat Benatar, Paul McCartney, Peter III Of Russia, Peter Frampton, Philip Glass, PJ Harvey, Prince, Queen Elizabeth I, Regis, Richard Simmons, Rick James, Ricky Martin, Robert Duvall, Robert Redford, Robert Smith, Robin Leach, Rosie O'Donnell, Ru Paul, Ruth Gordon, Samuel Barber, Sarah Duchess Of York, Sean Lennon, Sean Penn, Shania Twain, Shelley Hack, Sigmund Freud, Squeaky Fromme, Stephen King, Steven Tyler, Susan Faludi, Susanna Hoffs, Tanya Roberts, Taylor Hanson, Theodore Kaczynski AKA The Unabomber, The Kennedy Family, Groucho, Harpo, Chico, Zeppo, and Gummo Marx AKA The Marx Brothers, Venus and Serena Williams (The reference was "The Williams Sisters"),Thelonious Monk, Tiger Woods, Tito Puente, Tom Waits, Tony Randall, Tonya Harding, Vaclav Havel, Vanna White, Vivien Leigh, Walt Whitman, William Shakespeare, William Shatner, Yoko Ono, Zsa Zsa Gabor

Misc:

Camelot, Chernobyl Disaster, Cone Of Silence, Hindenburg Disaster, Iran-Contra Affair, Paul Bunyan, The Menendez Murders, Tribbles, Vulcan Death Grip, Whoville, Winchester Mystery House

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sadzcv · 3 years

Text

Like any boy his age

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The Pelicans will throw Randy Beam (2 0, 3.27) on Friday against a likely zattini promoção de botas Justin Garcia (0 1, 11.81). In Ethiopia, 1 million people are estimated to mustang női cipő árgép be affected, while in Cameroon, a further 500 000 people air jordan aj4 are estimated to be affected. Toutes ces entreprises l ne contribuent en rien l'conomie. Jon could hear the creak of chains as the winch cage swung and scraped against the ice. Turn away. We do not say that Mrs. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. We've taken out tens of thousands of terrorists including Osama bin Laden. “We used to drag the dead down into the cellars. Anything may happen to a man, even what he’s never dreamed of . Then have the smarts to surround Tom Brady with enough talent to keep the club competitive. Fusco says, because that's typically when the hormone stabilizes.. Are sending hockey sticks in the mail, we got live Christmas trees in the mail, Hill said. I've been really thinking about 'Be Nice' of late. It really can't. I love being able to do that. He let the dwarf beguile him with that glib tongue of his. Bell on Wednesday afternoon called the development very recent and that it hadn't been announced outside of Superintendent Stephen Daeschner's cabinet, since details are still being worked out.

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mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Captain my Captain: Ch 1. Small Town Girl

A small little girl stood looking straight ahead with a mean face. Her brown skin was smooth, save the cut on her lip. With long red hair behind her, it was scattered into the air as she took a punch to the face. The girl fell onto her back, panting through heavy breaths. A Gerudo, just like her, but far older, picked her up by the arm, only to toss her away. The girl had to catch her feet to not fall on her feet. “Rise up Adda! You want to be a pirate? You want respect?”

“Yes Teacher!”

“Then put your arms up and block my punches properly!”

Little ten-year-old Adda turned around to face her instructor, raising her arms. With a fury of blows, her teacher turned them to jelly. Once again, on the fifth punch, Adda dropped her arms in pain. Once more, she was punished with another punch to the face, splitting her lip.

Her breath was hot, and she struggled to get up. If she lied down, she’d be properly beaten. This was just drilling. Just drills. And with all eyes on her, it was better then home.

“I’d be successful if it weren’t for you.”

“I know mother.”

“Instead I was knocked up by garbage. In turn I gave birth to trash. That’s what you are Adda. Trash.”

“Yes.” Adda was careful to not repeat herself, least she draw her mother’s ire. Didn’t help as a piece of paper was thrown at her head anyways. And she absolutely did not flinch.

There was a look in her mother’s eye that Adda tried to figure out, but no look like she was studying her mother. After a moment, she shrugged, looking back to her drawing board. “Get out of here.”

Adda took the opportunity, wanting to go to the beachside. Leaving the house, she came across a group of three girls. They weren’t like her, so they sneered as she walked by. However, when Adda turned on them, some of them flinched. Adda gave them a mean look, and they took off. The little Gerudo learned a while ago that no one was her friend, and if she didn’t want to be trampled by the world, she’d have to have to awful sometimes herself.

Reaching the beach, she grabbed a stick and dragged it along the sand. She wasn’t drawing anything in particular. She just wanted to see the sand change its surface. She liked making changes, be it with the stick or with her foot prints. Finally, she decided to write a message for herself.

The rest of the day, Adda kneeled by the seaside, feeling the hot air on her face. It felt good. It was the anything that did. As she finally left, she saw the sea sweep away her message. A happy tenth birthday. Some birthday.

Captain Kerrigan was in need of a fresh crew. The Gerudo chieftan looked over the sea chart and went over the flags. Every red flag she had was the location of a rumoured Gerudo. Most of her crew came from the Termina colony, but it was part of the code to seek out any Gerudo and have them join the greater crew. Plucking the last red flag, she had her sights on the port town of Rifraft.

“Collen. Pull into the docks. I’m going to scout out the market for information. I want you to do a count on our rations and see what we can’t replace. If there’s any mercenaries that we can throw away, I wouldn’t mind. But keep it to the budget.”

“Yes Captain.”

The Screaming Predator pulled into the docks, and the Gerudo crew of adults got to work on repairs and restocking. Captain Kerrigan looked around, musing to herself on the lives of these common folk. What kind of living was it to grow crops or fish for hours to acquire one fish at a time?

When she asked around, she got the location of a Gerudo woman who lived alone with a daughter. It sounded promising, until she learned that the Gerudo was a shut in, rude, and didn’t like to see other people that weren’t men for the night. Kerrigan doubted that she could break through to a woman like that. Her daughter, on the other hand, might be of use to her.

With enough searching, Kerrigan was walking along the beachside when she saw a redheaded spitfire running back and worth through the water. “Hey girl! Come here!”

The little Gerudo paused on the spot. There was a moment of worry before she relaxed slightly. She was still on guard, but to her there was no immediate danger. Smart kid. “You like the ocean?”

A question that was often one of the most important to Kerrigan. And the girl’s answer was promising. “I do.”

“That’s really good. I like the ocean too. It’s a large part of my life.”

“Are you a sailor.”

Kerrigan slowly cracked a grin. “In a manner of speaking. You’re a Gerudo right? Just like me. What’s your name kid?”

“Adda. What’s yours?”

“My name is Kerrigan. Captain Kerrigan. Would you like to know what it is exactly that I do Adda?” When she nodded, Kerrigan smiled some more. “I search the seas for treasure. Riches beyond the wildest imagination. And I do anything to acquire them.”

Adda knew what this woman was. A pirate. She had to be. However, she didn’t want to be rude and say it. “Are you here for treasure now?”

“No Adda. I’m looking for more Gerudo to join my crew.” She paused, letting the insinuation hang in the air. “How old are you Adda?”

“I just turned ten yesterday.”

“Ten years old. Must be fate.” Kerrigan noticed a bruise on Adda’s forehead, nodding slowly. “You a fighter Adda? I can’t help but notice that mark on you. People strike you, don’t they? But do you strike back?”

“I don’t like to take crap miss.”

Kerrigan flickered a devilish smile, if just for a moment. “I like the sound of that. Tell me Adda. You got any friends here? Family that’s important to you?”

Kerrigan saw the child look sad. That made her answer inevitable to her ears. “No.”

“Then how’d like to make better ones with me?” Kerrigan knelt down and extended a hand to Adda. “Join my crew Adda. Travel that sea that you love and explore its riches with me. Together, we can give your life the meaning its been looking for.”

Adda’s heart elevated to a quickened pace and she nodded with ecstatic joy. “Do you mean it?!”

“I really do. Think of it as a proper birthday gift to you. Work hard for me, and the world will be your oyster.”

Adda jumped into Kerrigan’s arm, receiving a rare gift from the pirate captain; a hug on the back. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s go kid. Future ain’t going to wait for us.”

Adda took deep breaths as her feet felt the sturdy foundation of the ship. Yes, there was the slight rock of the boat with the waves, but it was more stable then the gravel roads of her home town. No. Not home. Not anymore. Not ever again if she could help it. She had a small moment spared in thinking about her mother, until a fire in her mind burned that connection for good. Screw her.

Captain Kerrigan whistled behind her, and some more adult Gerudo flew into action. They quickly secured boxes of rations on the ship and readied the Sceaming Predator for leave.

Adda was captivated by the sails of the ship all the way down to the texture of the paint in the wood. She didn’t care about other people until she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Scarlet, get over here. I have new girl I want you to take down.”

A Gerudo girl, around the same age as Adda, but with a pigtail braid, hobbled over. “Yes, Captain Kerrigan.”

When they locked eyes with one another, Adda didn’t seem too impressed at first. With a square build, the pigtail looked like she was trying hard to look like a girl. “Huh. Hi.”

“Hi. Come with me please.”

Just as Adda was about to, a bell was rung by the second mate, and the ship started to turn. Captain Kerrigan straightened her hat and walked up to the wheel of the ship. “Everyone! We are going home!”

Adda looked at the island, then out at the direction of open sea. This was it. This was the start of her new life. Beside her, Scarlet tugged at her arm. “Come on. Captain Kerrigan said she wants us below.”

Adda begrudgingly followed the girl down below the deck. All she wanted was to smell the ocean’s breeze on her face. Sighing, she supposed she’d have time later.

The other girl turned to her, puzzled. “What, sad about leaving home already?”

“What? Oh, no. I actually was hoping we could have stayed out on the deck for a little while longer.”

“You like the sea?”

“I do. I think it’s really pretty and warm.”

“That’s cool. Give it time.”

Adda followed the girl down a couple levels and into a mess hall. There, there were a few dozen Gerudo girls ranging from her own age to about teenage age. Some were bustling about, others polished boots, and some even played with wooden swords for practice. No one really batted an eye at Adda. After all, she was just another Gerudo picked up.

Adda had a small pouted lip. First time meeting so many girls like her. Least they could have said was hi. Or perhaps she could. “Hello there.”

Some of the Gerudo looked at Adda. For her efforts, she earned a reply. “Hello there. Are you the only one?”

“I’m the newest girl.”

“Guess that makes you the last one too.” A girl with a golden braid down patted a seat next to her. “Why don’t you and Scarlet sit down? I was just looking at the world map.”

Scarlet took a seat, undoing her pigtail to let her hair fall. Adda took another one, looking at the sea charts. When she saw an elaborate image and paper stained with coffee, she frowned. “That doesn’t seem like the whole world to me. Looks more like a painting.”

“A what?”

“A painting.” Adda looked at the girl like she was stupid as a doorknob. “It’s a piece of art.”

“Oh... so is it real then?”

“Maybe? Could be an interpretation of events.”

The girl looked at her, growing frustrated with Adda rather quickly. “Stop saying weird words.”

“Yeah? I can use whatever words I want. Not my fault you don’t know what a painting is. Stupid.”

All the Gerudo turned their attention to Adda now. Was this going to be a trouble maker? The girl who sat them down pouted more, a trembling lip indicating she was going to cry. Scarlet gripped Adda’s arm rather firmly in what felt like out of nowhere, a mean face on her now. “We don’t be mean to one another here. Come on, we’re going to be a crew.”

Adda scowled, trying to pull away. “But its her fault for not knowing.”

“Just because someone doesn’t know as much as you don’t mean you have to bully them.”

Adda looked around, the frown on her own face growing with eyes on her. Not wanting to be beaten up, or lose her standing a minute in, she took a breath to calm herself. “I’m sorry for calling you stupid. That wasn’t nice of me. What can I call you?”

The girl seemed to just pull herself together to stop herself from a melt down. “My name is Natalia.”

“Well Natalia, my name is Adda.” She turned her attention to the rude arm grabber. “You can let go now Scar.”

“It’s Scarlet. Like the colour red.”

“Well Scar. Let go of me now please?”

Scarlet took a moment to register the pun, but when she did, the girl contemplated on squeezing as hard as she could. Not wanting to escalate things on the ship, she begrudgingly let go. She had a small feeling in the back of her head that this Adda would be trouble.

“Thank you. So, huh, what were you looking at on the map Natalia?”

“I wanted to see where we were going. And how far we traveled since I was taken by the captain.” She traced her finger from an island called Ush, traveling south-east from island to island. When they reached Adda’s island, she pointed to a continent they were going to travel to. “This country is called Termina. We’ll be hitting the western shore to a location called the Great Bay.” She frowned when she saw the picture of a giant monster fish next to the bay. “I hope that’s just some art and not real.”

“I heard that the ocean is full of sea-monsters just waiting to spring out from the depths.” An older teenager snickered from close by. “Killer sharks, carnivorous mermen, and ravenous squids! Heck, I heard of a monster that manipulates water to ensnare its prey, crushing their bones and dissolving them to consume.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

Adda took a breath into her tiny lungs and shook the cabin with her declaration. “Well I’m not afraid!”

All the young Gerudo were a little puzzled. As the teenager looked down at Adda with doubt, Scarlet spoke what she was thinking. “Really? You’re not afraid of any monster?”

“No. Because I want to see them all with my own eyes. And I’m going to beat them and take any treasures that we come across!”

That intrigued Scarlet enough to not immediately doubt her. “We?”

“Yeah. I mean, we’re all going to be a crew, aren’t we?”

Every Gerudo girl looked around the room at one another. This was true. They all willingly agreed to come aboard to serve. And with their age pool, they’d most likely work together for the rest of their lives.

The question lingered in the air. It wouldn’t be answered as someone call from above. “All you lot! The captain wants you to grab a bucket of water and start scrubbing the ship clean! Get moving!”

The girls all grumbled as they got up from their tables. Adda felt a tick at the back of her mind pry at her. Did anyone want to be a crew?

Just as her doubts started to smoke up, they were extinguished by the smile of Scarlet. “I’d like that.”

It was about a week and a half out at open sea. In that time Adda had learned very little about how to sail the ship. However, she did learn all of the levels of Screaming Predator and some history about Captain Kerrigan. The Screaming Predator was stolen from a country known as Danjur, a very rich monarchy with a mighty navy. Captain Kerrigan taught Adda and the other young Gerudo that brute force wouldn’t have cut it, so she stole the deed to the ship and lied about being its rightful owner. When the navy caught on, she was long gone from the kingdom’s borders. There was a time for a show of power, but also times to use your intelligence and wisdom. It was this brazen theft that gave her support from a majority of the crew to challenge the last chieftain’s position of power.

“I thought that you were captain? Not a chieftain?”

“Well Natalia, us Gerudo are different from the common ilk of other pirates and sailors. Our people make up a large tribe. Far, far west, is the land of Hyrule. Our Gerudo sisters there live out their lives in a dry, barren desert, waiting for any countless calamities in dwindling their numbers. Us sea worthy Gerudo can find our origins in Termina, where we are going now.”

Kerrigan tapped a ruby crest on her chest. “The Gerudo of Hyrule have been led by chieftains. Sometimes they call themselves Queens. Or maybe lords. Some just keep to Chieftain. Legend has it they even had a Gerudo King that lead them to bloodshed and darkness. Us Termina Gerudo are the same. Because I lead the Gerudo out to sea, I am your captain. I am the Captain. The highest authority. Because that is what it means to be chief.”

“What if you want to be Captain yourself?”

Kerrigan turned her attention to Adda now. “If you want to be chief, you can challenge me to the position. From there, I have a choice to make. I can be like my predecessor and step down willingly…” With a quick flip of her hand, she pulled out her flintlock, cocked it, and pointed it at Adda. “Or I can kill you, stopping the thought of challenge for quite some time.”

Before the girls could truly react to the threat, Kerrigan flipped her gun back with a smile and put the safety back on. “There’s going to be a lot of things that can kill you. That’s why most of you aren’t coming with me on the next quest. Not until you can handle the worst the world has waiting for you.”

The boat sailed beside a rocky sea wall now, and the captain ordered the young Gerudo to follow her to the edge of the ship. Down below, a colony of sharks was swimming about. “Look down there. See them beasts of the seas? True, killing machines. Can anyone tell me what we share with them?”

The young girls shook their heads, not knowing.

“We’re apex predators. We thrive on the sea. And we kill without mercy, because that’s just who we are.” Captain Kerrigan waved over some of her guards over, dragging a man to the deck. Adda had glanced his way once when he was locked in the brig, but didn’t give him much thought.

“Kerrigan. You slimy bitch. You think my brother is going to let you get away with kidnapping me?” Adda winced at his foul breath and thick western accent. It sounded like chalk grading against marble. The man looked like he had been starved on purpose for quite some time. He didn’t stop as he was pushed against the edge of the ship. “What? Am I some kind of show for these little shits? You fucking cu-”

The whole time, Kerrigan was examining her gun, not giving him much attention. When he was reaving up his vocabulary, she popped him right in the head. Blood bubbled onto the deck, but most fell into the water. The Gerudo Pirates holding him on the side dropped his body to free fall into the water. One of them dabbed her face with a bandana to clean the blood on their face. “Gross. Think I got some brain in the mouth.”

All the youngsters that had never seen death either flinched away or stood paralysed in fear. Natalia clasped her hands over her mouth to not scream aloud; no one did that. Maybe they felt the atmosphere didn’t allow for it. Adda eyes were glued to the smoking gun. The same gun that was lightly pointed with the barrel between her own eyes. With the same amount of ease that could have been her blood scattered across the sea.

Few dared to look over the side of the ship. A moment after the body hit the water, small sharks swarmed the body in a feeding frenzy. As they tore at bits of the limbs, a massive white hopped up and brought its jaws down on the torso.

Captain Kerrigan cleaned her gun with a light sigh. “That man tried to steal from me. Which in extension, tried to steal from you all. Let this be your first lesson! Because we are apex predators, we do not tolerate bottom feeders. There are those who try to steal from us our riches and our lives. If you don’t want your lifeblood sucked dry from you, then you must be willing to kill these parasites first. Now, every one of you grab a sponge and scrub this blood out the deck. It’s a smell you might as well get used to now.”

Adda did as she was ordered. Getting low to the blood with the others, she heard some sniffles. She didn’t turn to see who was on the verge of crying. Best she didn’t get that image in her head. As she took the brush to the deck, she held her breath. Was this the life she wanted?

#Original Story #Captain Adda #Origin Story #Gerudo #Pirates #Captain Kerrigan #Scarlet

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residentgoodgirl · 5 years

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Chances are that you know what made Lorena Bobbitt famous in 1993, even if you aren’t old enough to have experienced it in real time. Just over 25 years ago, Lorena — who now goes by her maiden name, Lorena Gallo — cut her husband’s penis off in the middle of the night, driving away with it and throwing it into a field. The trial and media coverage were sensational, as you might expect them to be around any penis-chopping case — and Lorena’s story became a punchline, an oddity, a way to consider supposedly hotheaded Latina women.

Amazon is now premiering a four-part docuseries about her, aptly called Lorena. The documentary, produced by Jordan Peele, covers the trial, of course, but also explores the context around it that people have largely forgotten, or never learned to begin with: the ways Lorena’s husband, John Wayne Bobbitt, allegedly abused her; the cruel treatment she received from the media, her tender age (she was 24 years old); and how this case brought the issue of marital rape to the forefront for the American public.

The timing is excellent, if a total bummer. The embers of the #MeToo movement are still burning, marital rape continues to be a surprisingly controversial topic for the courts to grapple with, and everyone is still afraid of immigrants. Lorena is compelling and well-made, a narrative that focuses both on the salacious details of the case (wanna see a severed dick? Girl, you got it) and Lorena’s activism in preventing domestic violence and sexual assault. It acts as both a historical primer for those who didn’t live through Lorena’s trial and a rectification for the way she was treated, not just by her husband but by late-night talk show hosts, journalists, and the public. “The media was focusing only on the penis, the sensationalistic, the scandalous. But I wanted to shine the light on this issue of spousal abuse,” Lorena told Vanity Fair in an interview this past summer.

As a documentary that reassesses a notable ’90s scandal with the benefit of a couple decades’ hindsight, Lorena is one among many recent examples. And these retrospectives tend to fit a similar pattern: We are asked or encouraged to reconsider a woman whose public image was linked inextricably with a man’s bad behavior, whose reputation was destroyed while the man got away relatively consequence-free.

2013’s Anita was a reconsideration of Anita Hill’s allegations of sexual harassment against then–Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas. The documentary recast her not as an angry black woman trying to keep a man from his deserved job, but a reserved, smart attorney who merely told the truth about a man about to be given a tremendous amount of power. (Sound familiar?) 2014’s The Price of Gold gave Tonya Harding room to tell her version of the story of her career and the 1994 attack on Nancy Kerrigan, replete with class context and details about her own abuse.

The 2016 documentary O.J. Simpson: Made in America, though primarily about Simpson, also forced audiences to rethink how his murdered ex-wife Nicole Brown Simpson was treated by him and by the press. And 2018’s The Clinton Affair included an interview with Monica Lewinsky herself about her affair with President Bill Clinton — long considered a salacious sexual scandal, with Lewinsky cast as a slut trying to fuck a powerful man — and reframed the incident as one in which a young intern was seduced (and then thrown under the bus) by the goddamn president, who should’ve known better.

These reconsiderations aren’t limited to documentaries. In June, journalist Allison Yarrow published the book ’90s Bitch: Media, Culture, and the Failed Promise of Gender Equality, which includes Hill, Harding, Lewinsky, and Lorena in telling “the real story of women and girls in the 1990s, exploring how they were maligned by the media.” Podcasts like Sarah Marshall and Michael Hobbes’ You’re Wrong About… also serialize reassessments of history, often focusing on women mired in scandals. They’ve done episodes on Amy Fisher (the “Long Island Lolita”), televangelist Tammy Faye Bakker, Lindy Chamberlain-Creighton (the “dingo’s got my baby” woman, who never actually said that), Courtney Love, and Lorena herself.

“America is going through this period of realizing how much we misread what was right in front of us,” says Marshall. “We came to the realization that we elected a reality TV president. We elected someone whose image was made by reality TV. That kind of understanding can allow us to go back and say, “What else did I just swallow that I was sold?”

Documentaries that revisit scandals are no doubt valuable in that they can profoundly change the way we consider the past and hopefully, the future. But they also pose a certain temptation to get too comfortable: There is some risk that we might watch something like Lorena, pat ourselves on the back for figuring out who the bad guy really is, and walk away thinking that the past is the past and we won’t make the same mistakes again. But what Lorena Bobbitt’s story meant in 1993 “is not that different from what it means today,” says journalist Kim Masters in Lorena. “It’s the same story.”

Then, too, there’s the reality that these reconsiderations tend to revolve around trials or public hearings, which provide a clear way to revisit the past through criminal records and court transcripts and recorded interviews. These were big, splashy stories that now get big, splashy reappraisals. But the world is filled with smaller, more mundane injustices and oversights, and most of those who suffer will never make it to court or Congress, or receive a high-profile opportunity to seek vindication.

Watching something like Lorena feels important, but it also feels lousy, because not enough is different now. Reconsiderations like these can’t be antidotes if we ignore the cure — if we continue to dismiss women and other marginalized, vulnerable people when they’re being abused, or taken advantage of, or otherwise maligned. Lorena receives a tremendous amount of empathy in Lorena, as she should. But why can’t we extend that kind of empathy to more people like her today, instead of waiting two and a half decades to rethink how we’ve behaved?

Apology tours for sexual misconduct are practically rote at this point: Transgressors get plenty of airtime to beg for forgiveness for touching butts, to come out of the closet, to recommend a supposedly great pizza dough cinnamon roll recipe. Meanwhile, victims or survivors are largely forgotten after the accusation becomes public. It’s relatively new that women like Lorena or Hill are getting some space to tell their stories on their own terms, and still rare that the opportunity is afforded to women of color in particular.

Lorena is timely not only in the sense that conversations about sexual abuse and assault have taken center stage over the past year, but also because anxiety about immigrants taking advantage of the system and of poor, unwitting white Americans is currently at a fever pitch. When Lorena and John Wayne Bobbitt got married in 1989, she was 20, and in the US on a student visa. “There’s women who are opportunists, gold diggers, they use you as a stepping stone to advance their career,” Bobbitt says, referring to his ex-wife in an interview in Lorena. “These women, they know that their backup is [to] use law enforcement to their advantage by saying, ‘You know what, if you leave or you fuck up this relationship or you don’t get my citizenship, I’ll call the cops.’”

Despite Bobbitt’s own laundry list of arrests — many of which are for domestic violence against past partners — he still uses Lorena’s citizenship (or lack thereof) as supposed proof that she was unstable, demanding, and manipulative. “She was obsessed with having her American dream, her American dream, her American dream,” Bobbitt told Vanity Fair. “She just wanted too much, too fast.” And even in a supposedly silly reality series like 90 Day Fiancé (a show about bad American people marrying other, noncitizen but still-often-bad people), it’s clear that many of the same biases against immigrants that were at play in the Bobbitt case are alive and well today.

Lorena takes great pains to draw similarities between then and now, reminding viewers that domestic violence is still a secret shame for countless women, and that it’s still incredibly challenging to get away from your abuser. The last episode of the series is called “The Cycle of Abuse” and opens with a slideshow of women’s bruises and scars from domestic violence. “This is about a victim and a survivor and this is about what’s happening in our world today,” Lorena recently told the New York Times.

And that may be true of what Lorena experienced at the hands of the media, as well as her husband. “If Lorena’s story hit today, Fox News would take the place of Howard Stern, and the 24-hour news cycle would focus on what she did, rather than what he did,” says Kim Gandy, the president of the National Network to End Domestic Violence. Documentaries like Lorena are timely for a reason — a bad reason — and instead of feeling smug for finally listening, 25 years later, it’s worth taking the opportunity to see what we can do better now.

While the outrage around Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation to the Supreme Court this past fall might have sounded deafening depending on who’s inside your political bubble, the result is ultimately the same as it was for Clarence Thomas after Anita Hill’s testimony. He’s in, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Meanwhile, Christine Blasey Ford, the woman who came forward to detail Kavanaugh’s alleged assault, was left unable to work and in need of a security detail.

I was 3 years old during Lorena Bobbitt’s trial. I was 7 during the Clinton–Lewinsky scandal. I was a few months old for Anita Hill’s hearing. When Blasey Ford testified late last year, I was 27. And yet somehow her testimony still felt like unbearable déjà vu, as if I had lived through this already and already knew the inevitable conclusion.

Today, though entertainment industry figures like Harvey Weinstein and Les Moonves are facing some long-overdue music for accusations of sexual assault and harassment, it’s taken decades for that to happen. For figures like Bryan Singer and R. Kelly — both the subject of recent reporting that details sexual abuse allegations stretching back many years, both of whom continue to deny any wrongdoing — it remains to be seen what lasting consequences, if any, they will suffer. Their accusers, like Lorena, have been vulnerable people from already marginalized groups — in these cases young, primarily queer boys and black girls — who have been either painted as liars and manipulators or outright dismissed.

What’s upsetting about these stories is not just the abuses they describe, but the public indifference they often get in response; the rumors and allegations around Kelly, for example, have done astonishingly little to tarnish his celebrity or dim public affection until very recently, following the release of the Lifetime documentary series Surviving R. Kelly. And it’s taken 10 years since Michael Jackson’s death for a significant documentary about the allegations of child molestation against him, HBO’s Leaving Neverland, to crack through the surface.

Ten or 20 years from now, will we be watching a heartbreaking five-part docuseries on the alleged victims of Bryan Singer? On the many accusations against him, on how they were ignored for years, on how they sort of broke through in early 2019, how they quickly petered out, and how he continued to get work — and watch his movies win awards — even after the allegations were made public? (Hopefully not.) Is years or decades of hindsight the only way any of us can begin talking about things like domestic violence or sexual assault? The distance might make it feel safer to discuss, especially when powerful people are involved, but it also means the conversation starts far too late.

Lorena also reminds audiences that she was the subject of wild cruelty from the media and comedians during and after her trial. “David Letterman used to call me his girlfriend,” Lorena says in the docuseries. “The jokes did bother me, because I didn’t know to handle it. People were talking about my background. They were saying I was just a hot-blooded Latina woman. It hurts my heart. It hurts my brain. It hurts my whole body.”

Howard Stern practically made a career out of promoting Lorena’s ex-husband — he had Bobbitt on his show repeatedly and during his 1994 Rotten New Year’s Eve Pageant special, raising money for Bobbitt’s medical expenses. During the pageant, Stern airs a mocking reenactment of Lorena’s crime. “A penis is a terrible thing to waste,” Stern says, holding two pieces of a fake member, cut in half, aloft. The Bee Gees performed a parody song that included the advice “Don’t ever piss off your wife.” The metaphor is so blatant it’s embarrassing: A man’s penis is his power, and this woman had the audacity to try to take it away. She needed to be put in her place. “To me it was just cruel,” Lorena told the New York Times. “Why would they laugh about my suffering?”

In hindsight, jokes like these may seem to be in such bad taste that it’s a wonder Stern still has a career. But jokes at the expense of victims and marginalized people haven’t gone away, and neither have most of the comedians who make them. Amy Schumer used to crack jokes about Mexicans being rapists; she apologized for it years later. Sarah Silverman did blackface in 2007; it took her until 2015 to apologize for it (sort of??). Louis C.K. is, currently, mocking the Parkland shooting survivors and joking about his history of masturbating in front of nonconsenting women, all to applause from comedy club audiences. Every Saturday, Michael Che and Colin Jost turn Saturday Night Live into a Statler and Waldorf sketch where they complain about having to learn a few new gender pronouns. None of this will age well, but even in the moment, plenty of us don’t find these “jokes” all that funny to begin with.

The only tangible thing to learn from watching Lorena, besides the full facts of her case, is that the strongest advantage people like Lorena have on their side is time. You just have to wait. You have to wait out the cruel late-night jokes and the sexist media coverage about you and the gossip and conjecture and slut-shaming and mockery. You have to wait two and a half decades, and then maybe, if your case was a big enough deal, someone will make a movie about you, and you’ll get a chance to wear a nice blouse and trousers and sit on a couch and tell your story from the beginning, without interruption, for the first time in your life. The world will turn in your direction, and your abusers will look worse and worse with every passing day (even if they’ve evaded any concrete kind of consequences), but first — you have to wait.

Scandalous stories like Lorena’s are also undoubtedly complicated by the fact that they don’t only boil down to a bad man and a woman wronged. Even in light of widely publicized and well-produced reconsiderations, not all viewers will be on board with Lorena, who did commit a crime, just as Lewinsky is far from a fully redeemed figure now in the public eye. And both women will always be punchlines to some people; even for the few who do get their turn to reframe the stories of their own lives, not everyone is going to listen.

“We always want to find a victim, a villain, and a hero,” says Marshall. “We accept the story we’re told. Having everyone filed away as a certain kind of person and every event filed away as a certain kind of story is how we impose order in the world.” But if you’re able to turn away from that tidy story, and hear what the people who lived it are really saying, “you get closer to the truth.” ●

CORRECTION

February 19, 2019, at 6:34 p.m.

The name of the Michael Jackson HBO documentary Leaving Neverland was misstated in an earlier version of this post.

#news #tw: domestic abuse #tw rape

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sapphic-bombshell-vixen · 3 years

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Where can I watch the entirety of the ‘Bad Girls UK’?

#larkhall prison #helen stewart #nikki wade #simone lahbib #mandana jones #shell dockley #karen betts #cassie tyler #roisin connor #pat kerrigan #sheena williams #julie j #julie s

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nikkiandhelen · 5 years

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#bad girls uk #arun parmar #pat kerrigan #rebecca hazlewood #liz may brice #pat i love ur grumpy self but please appreciate the ride or die gift that arun is #fjdslfjsljdflsjl #series seven #7x11 #bad girls #my gifs

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ocmerunaway · 3 years

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Emma Hart meets Lou Stoke on the same day she has to bring in Kelly Hall, she is aware how timid the girl is but she has to trust that Pat Kerrigan, Lou’s pick, will keep her safe... Can the four survive and keep their romances hidden?

#pat kerrigan #lou stoke #kelly hall #emma hart #bad girls

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especially-heinous-ada · 6 years

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A Police Gala, pt. 16

Boom! APG is back, guys! I realize it has been far too long since I’ve added a new chapter, so for that, I apologize. I already have a part 17 storyline fleshed out to, hopefully, avoid that issue from happening with the next chapter haha. But, without further ado, part 16. Y/N and Rafael have finally made it to the courthouse in one piece, despite someone’s best efforts to prevent it. So begins the first day of the trial. Will Francis finally get his karma? And Y/N, her justice?

As always, feel free to holla at me in the comments. I love to hear from everyone. I appreciate any support you guys give me in the way of likes, comments, and reblogs. (comments are my fave, though)

(P.S. I am a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing and I definitely don’t feel like this is 100% my best work, but I damn sure tried to battle through some pretty powerful writer’s block and loss of motivation, so I’m pretty proud of it, regardless).

The room was overly warm, probably to counteract the frigid weather of early December in New York. It made you feel stifled, suffocated. You adjusted your collar as the DA chatted away about the process of the trial, when you’d be called, how you’d be sworn in, etc. The two of you had practiced scenarios in the time leading up to the trial, so you would know what kinds of questions to expect. Practiced direct and cross and re-direct and re-cross until long after the sun dipped low behind the horizon.

You were an ideal witness, in the prosecutor’s eyes. Beautiful, likeable, personable, well-spoken. Credible. You came with a devoted following, who were all sympathetic. You had a true platform to speak out against domestic violence and abuse against romantic partners. They had forensics, witnesses—an endless stream of proof. This was the kind of case the DA’s worked their entire careers to get—the kind that caught national headlines. A special prosecutor was brought in for the duration of your case to avoid any insinuation of favoritism due to your relationship with Rafael, and extra precautions were taken to protect the validity of evidence and testimony. They could not afford to bungle a case like this one, under any circumstances.

The stage was set. Time ticked away in a countdown to the start. Given the nature of the case, Francis had been escorted in first to avoid any unpredictable acts from him. Once the Defendant was in position, the bailiff came to tell them the Plaintiff and counsel could enter the courtroom. The special prosecutor looked at you. Asked you if you were ready. As you stood, you felt dizzy, but nodded. Your heart pounded so hard in your chest you felt as if it might break ribs.

Rafael had to wait in the courtroom for you to enter. He fidgeted from his seat in the first bench behind the Plaintiff’s table. Liv was at his side. She put a calming hand on his shoulder and he glanced over at her with a look of worry.

“Y/N will be alright, Barba. She’s tough. Smart. And she has the facts on her side.” Liv soothed. Rafael nodded, appreciating the sentiment. Though, it didn’t relieve his worry. He’d seen cases that seemed cut-and-dry as this one go terribly wrong before, and the stakes were higher this time. This time, it was personal.

He wrung his hands before glancing up just in time to see you enter the room. You must have sensed his gaze because your eyes darted to meet his. You gave a meek smile and he blew you a kiss as you approached. You caught it and put it in your pocket, mouthing the words “saving it for later.”

The prosecutor held out a chair for you to take a seat and you slunk down into it gracefully. From across the courtroom, Francis stared daggers into you.

Rafael frowned, his hands balling into fists. He could see you stare straight ahead as counsel leaned in close to you to speak. You nodded to whatever it was he’d told you and Rafael couldn’t help but wish he could be seated next to you at the Plaintiff’s table.

Though he knew this special prosecutor’s track record well enough to know you were in good hands, he still had his reservations. It was the attorney in him, who always believed he could try the case best. That said, he also wasn’t a fan of just how close his lips got to your ears when he whispered to you. He did his best to quell the green monster growing in his thoughts, when the bailiff stood at attention and projected to the room:

“All rise!”

Everyone in the packed courtroom stood. Liv made her exit, leaving Rafael alone with his thoughts. The room grew silent as everyone knew the proceedings were about to begin. The judge entered the court room and took her seat.

“The Honorable Judge Elana Barth presiding.”

“You may now be seated.” The Judge announced as she began to page through a stack of papers in front her. Not a soul spoke and the only noise in the courtroom was the sound of feet shuffling and benches creaking as people quickly sat, eager for the show to get on.

“Case number XXXXX, The City of New York versus Francis Kerrigan Shaw.” The judge rattled off the charges against Francis and your mind drifted off elsewhere.

The time was finally here. This was really happening. You couldn’t believe that Francis had the nerve to plead not guilty to his litany of charges when the evidence was so stacked against him.

He must think he’s untouchable, you thought. You had to admit, you were afraid he’d be acquitted, even despite the sheer odds of it. After all, it wasn’t unlike the first time he’d had charges brought against him, and his lawyer had somehow managed to worm Francis out of that one, too.

After some time, counsel launched into opening statements. You listened to the words coming out of the prosecuting attorney’s mouth, but they didn’t entirely register. It was almost as if you were in a dream. For god’s sake, you had just witnessed a man getting shot in cold blood earlier that morning, simply because he was walking alongside you. Now you had to sit here and pretend you were fine?

Not to mention the fact that soon you’d be forced to relive one of the most terrifying experiences of your life, whilst your attacker stared at you like he wanted to hungrily devour you, and his attorney grilled you as if you were the true criminal. How was this justice?

The whole day the two sides went back and forth—the prosecution asserting the truth, and Francis’s defense attorney attempting to artfully dance around it. He tried to allege that the entirety of this trial was revenge against Francis for the failed initial trial. Tried to paint you as a crazy, obsessed ex-girlfriend hell-bent on destroying Francis because he had turned you away. To further add to the victim act, he attempted to insinuate that you’d convinced the NYPD to falsify evidence and perjure themselves on the stand to help put Francis away, simply because you’d donated money to update the precinct.

“The jury can’t honestly believe his conspiracy theory shtick…can they?” Your words start out confident, but end somewhat shakily. Your glance turns to the special prosecutor as your hand squeezes Rafael’s. The three of you were holed up in the office temporarily assigned to the attorney (who was borrowed from another district) while you waited out the media circus.

“I highly doubt it,” he said, adjusting the little name placard on his desk. Jackson, it read. You’d never heard of him before, but Rafael seemed to know and approve of him. “They didn’t seem very responsive to his attorney’s assertions that you were a crazed ex-girlfriend. You were very articulate and composed on the stands—not to mention sympathetic. You were great.” He added for reassurance. You turned to Rafael, who nodded in accord.

Not entirely reassured, you laid your head on Rafael’s shoulder and let out a breath so heavy that felt like years of your life escaping from your lips. Heaven knew the stress was getting to you. Spending the day in court was incredibly draining. It gave you a whole new level of admiration for Rafael; you couldn’t understand how he stood before juries day in and day out.

“Estás bien, Cariño?” He asked, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips.

“Estoy cansada. I just want to leave here, amor.” You said, closing your eyelids as they suddenly felt heavy as lead. It was the end of the first day, and you weren’t sure how you were going to survive it all, at this rate. You couldn’t even go back to Rafael’s apartment any time soon, due to the disaster that’d happened to Kazuma this morning. Rafael gave you a sympathetic pat on the back before standing. You followed suit. He bid ADA Jackson good night and promised to see him in the morning.

As you left the room, Jackson called out to you to keep safe. You gave a halfhearted smile before walking out the door. In the hallway, the two of you met Nick, who was supposed to take you to your new safe house in an undisclosed location. With him were two unis, attempting in vain to hide their starstruck stares. If you hadn’t had such a terrible day, you might have attempted to be more cheerful and engaging, but right now all you could think about was curling up in bed next to Rafael.

As soon as you walked out the courthouse doors, you were mobbed by the most insistent members of the paparazzi, who had refused to give up and gone home. They shouted at you and Rafael pulled you into him, protecting you from their hungry eyes. Nick walked before you, pushing through the crowd and the other officers flanked you.

“Leave her alone,” Rafael called. “No comment.”

After several minutes of pushing and shoving, you finally reached an unmarked police cruiser which had been waiting to pick you up, climbing inside in a hurry.

The car ride felt like an eternity. The officers made small talk and an obnoxious pop song played on the cheap, stock radio of the cruiser. You slipped in and out of consciousness as you struggled to stay awake.

Rafael couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw you nod off for the third time. He pulled you closer, letting you relax into him. You gave out a content little sigh in your sleep. It would be a bit of a ride; the driver was purposely going a roundabout way to avoid being followed from the courthouse to the new temporary home.

“How’s she holding up?” Nick asked, motioning to your sleeping form.

“She’s...doing her best.” Rafael answered. “All of this has been really hard for her, but she’s putting on a brave face.”

“About your neighbor... I don’t think he’s the one who put out the hit.” Nick said, frowning, changing the subject. “I just keep thinking about it, and why would he step in front of her today, if he wanted her dead in that boutique? He could’ve just kept walking and let the bullet hit her. And from the ballistics, if he hadn’t stepped out, it was definitely going to. Plus, I mean—what reason would he even have?”

“But his DNA, Nick. DNA doesn’t lie.” Rafael said with an exhausted sigh. He didn’t need one of Nick’s paranoid conspiracy theories right now. What he needed was to get you to wherever the two of you were calling home tonight, so the two of you could curl up in bed and go to sleep.

“Yeah, sure, that proves he’s a gang boss, but it doesn’t prove he’s the one who put out that hit.” Nick pressed.

“Just drop it, Nick.” Rafael said, lowering his voice and giving Nick a warning glare. “The last thing we need is to give Y/N another thing to worry about.” Nick’s mouth hung open as if he were about to add something, but suddenly, the car jerked to a stop, indicating their arrival. Nick closed his mouth and climbed out of the car, stepping over to hold the door open for you and Rafael. You were still sound asleep, so Rafael lifted you out of the car and shifted you to carry you on his back.

It was a pretty unremarkable building, though Rafael supposed that was a desirable trait in a safe house. Once again, Nick and the other officers surrounded you and Rafael as you made your way up to the unit, with Nick leading the way. After several flights of stairs, you finally reached your floor, stopping in front of an unremarkable doorway. Nick pulled out the key and opened it, entering the unremarkable apartment, with Rafael following close after.

“I’ve got it from here.” Nick announced to the unis as Rafael meandered away, looking for the bedroom. When he found it, he sighed in relief. He laid you down gingerly onto the bed before tucking you in underneath fluffy comforter, taking extra care not to wake you. They hadn’t brought extra changes of clothes for the two of you, as going back to your apartment may have caused the officers to be followed by anyone wishing you harm. Therefore, Rafael simply stripped down to his underwear before sliding under the covers next to you.

“Mm.” You made a small noise as you stirred in your sleep. You could feel a source of warmth on the other side of the bed and you drew closer to it. Rafael chuckled as you threw a leg over his side, snuggling into the heat he radiated. Closing his eyes, Rafael allowed himself to be put at ease by your quiet breathing. Your hand on his chest trapped in his heat and it felt especially warm. He used these sensations to drown out his fears. He needed all the sleep he could manage for tomorrow.

Next Morning

You felt the warmth of Rafael’s body—your back pressed against his front, with his arm flung over you. You became more conscious of all your senses as you slowly awakened. You could smell the last remnants of his cologne from yesterday. It was the same scent he’d worn the first night you met. You smiled as you remembered the feeling of him twirling you about the dance floor. Dipping you low. Although it wasn’t that long ago, it seemed like such a simpler time. The calm before Francis’s storm.

Francis.

Your eyes flew open and you sat up abruptly, causing Rafael to wake.

“What time is it? Amor, wake up. What time is it?” Rafael groaned, rolling to the other side of the bed to grab his cell phone.

“Relax, Cariño, it’s--11:00?!” His eyes widened as he read the time. “Dammit. We were supposed to be into be in court two hours ago.”

“So you’re finally awake.” Nick chuckled as he strolled into the room, Liv in tow.

“It’s not funny, Nick!” You exclaimed angrily. “You were supposed to wake us! What are we going to do now?!” It was rare that you ever truly grew angry, but right now, you were furious.

“Whatever you want.” Nick said, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally. Rafael scoffed incredulously. His gaze darted back and forth between Nick and Liv as he attempted to figure out how the two of them could have let this happen. And why Nick seemed to find it so amusing. Liv’s face bore a more stoic expression.

“Y/N can’t exactly just play hooky in the middle of her trial. What is going on here, Liv?” Rafael demanded.

“We got a call from Rikers early this morning... Francis Shaw was found dead in his cell. Hanging.”

#barba x reader #svu #fanfic #a police gala #part 16 #drama #angst #twst

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