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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 years

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(God Must Have Spent) A Little More Time On You

Characters: Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 1,847

Warnings: period talk, fluff, jealousy

Summary: Castiel doesn’t know why you’re so different... why he loses all of his control whenever he’s around you.

Squared Filled: (God Must Have Spent) A Little More Time On You by *NSYNC // Kindness from a stranger // Undercover in a gay bar // Shark week // SNuggling // Jealousy // Hellhound glasses // Decapitation

Fandom: Supernatural

Beta: she wants to remain anonymous

Author’s Note: This is for @spnsongchallengebingo and @goodthingshappenbingo and @castielspnbingo and @spnfluffbingo2019 and @spngenrebingo and @spndarkbingo and @heavenandhellbingo and @spnclassicbingo respectively and this is unbeta’d and any and all mistakes are all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

In all my years of life, I never thought I would ever fall for a human. I don’t even know that much about them, but I do know her. Before I met her, I used to have control of every little thing. I wouldn’t let anyone else dictate how I should feel or what I should do. I am a warrior and a soldier, there was no room to give up control. I fought alongside my brothers and sisters, against battles that didn’t even compare to the ones held on Earth. Battles that took a lot of strength from me, but I managed to claim victory every single time, even if I lost.

However, humanity and emotions were just something I couldn't control, no matter how much I tried.

Can this be true? Tell me, can this be real? How can I put into words what I feel? My life was complete I thought I was whole Why do I feel like I'm losing control?

The only reason I’m doing this is that I didn’t want Charlie to go on this mission alone, and she gave me permission to take over her body just this once if it meant we caught the bad guy. Sam and Dean were waiting outside while I walked into the gay bar where our suspected monster worked. There was nothing but girls here, and the only guys that were here were gay. The shifter was somewhere in here since we saw her come in here not that long ago. As soon as I walked in, I got stares from women all around me, and I had to remind myself that I was occupying my female friend who just so happened to like women.

Ignoring their advances, I walked to the bar and asked the bartender for a drink. While she was busy making my drink, I took out the phone that Dean lent me so I could use the camera to see where the shifter might be. If anyone asked, I would just say that I don’t know how to use one and was trying to take a picture of myself with good lighting. The bartender set my drink down in front of me, but I was too occupied with my phone to pay attention to it. Scanning the room for the shifter, I looked at the screen to see if anyone’s eyes shined when they passed over the camera.

I reach for my drink to not look suspicious when I heard her voice.

“Excuse me?” I looked over at the person who the voice belonged to, and I could have sworn I felt my heart jump. “Hi, I wouldn't drink that if I were you.”

“Why?” I ask, setting it down.

“Someone put something in it. They ran off so fast, I couldn’t catch their face, but it’s drugged.”

“Not many people would tell me that.”

“I’m not many people,” she smiled. I knew she was human, but there was something so alluring about her that drew me in. I couldn’t stop staring at her.

“I’m sorry, I’m staring.”

“No, it’s okay. You here with anyone?”

“It’s just me. You?”

“Yeah, my friends dragged me here even though I don’t like women that way. I prefer men, but I wanted to hang with my girls, so I came,” she chuckled.

“That’s nice of you.”

“And that’s them calling me right now. I have to go but pay attention to your drinks. I’m Y/N.”

“Charlie.”

In all of creation, all things great and small You are the one that surpasses them all More precious than any diamond or pearl They broke the mold when you came in this world

I had to tell Y/N who I really was after we first met. Turns out, one of her friends was the shifter, and I had to kill her right in front of her. She was upset, of course, but once she understood what was going on, she wanted to know more about what Sam, Dean, and I do. When she figured out I wasn’t really a woman, we became closer. She wanted to be with me, and after talking about it with the brothers, they decided that she could stay with us.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to become adjusted to our world. In fact, some might say she was born for it. Her fighting skills were excellent, she knew how to handle firearms, and when she set her mind to something, she got it done no matter what.

All of this only confirmed my feelings for her. I was falling for a human, and I was losing control quickly.

“Get back here!” Y/N yelled, running after the vampire who tried to escape her. It was a messy night, and it took all four of us to take down two big nests of vampires that were terrorizing neighboring towns. Y/N was still pretty new to this, but she was turning out to do just fine. She was spunky, and I couldn’t even begin to understand how a human could represent an angel so much. Not my kind of angel, but the angel I’ve only read about in books.

She ran after the vampire and pounced on his back, tackling him to the ground. She brought down her machete on his neck, effectively decapitating him. Once she knew he was dead, she stood up and wiped the blood on her ripped jeans. Her whole outfit was completely ruined by the blood and mud, and her jeans were torn in multiple places, some bigger than others. It’s the only reason why I noticed the blood on the inside of her thighs.

“You’re bleeding,” I pointed out, walking over to her. Sam and Dean caught up with us just as I reached her. She looked down at her thighs but shrugged it off.

“It’s no big deal.”

“No, you could be hurt.”

“Cas, she’s not hurt,” Dean commented, knowing what it was.

“What are you talking about? She’s bleeding.”

“Yeah, because I haven’t had time to change my tampon. Don’t worry, Cas, I’m okay,” she smiled, patting me on the shoulder as she passed by me.

“I don’t understand,” I frowned, looking at the brothers for help.

“She’s on her period, Cas. Every woman goes through it.”

“She must be in pain.”

“Terrible pain, but we had to catch the bad guys, yeah? Now I really need a shower and some food,” she said as she walked away, giving me a look from over her shoulder.

“She’s an angel,” I whispered, but I knew Dean must have heard me by the way he smirked.

I never thought that love could feel like this And you've changed my world with just one kiss How can it be that right here with me There's an angel? It's a miracle

The more Y/N hunted with us, the more we got to know each other. The more she hunted, the more I realized just how much I was falling for her. It got so bad that I had to tell her how I felt, or else I would regret it for the rest of my life, and I don’t regret a lot of things. I was relieved when she told me that she felt the same way about me too.

However, we haven’t really talked about what we were or where we were going to go from that. If it were up to me, I would take her to the side, and talk it out, but we were meeting Meg to get some information on Crowley who seemed to be missing. Apparently, Meg was the only demon who knew where he was, but I had a feeling she said she would help just to see me.

“Hey there, Clarence,” Meg smirked once she saw me. I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t say anything about it.

“Where is Crowley?”

“What, no big hug or sweet kiss? Don’t I get anything in return for this?” she asked. I could see Y/N off to the side, and by the looks of it, her blood was boiling. Before I had a chance to answer, she came stomping over to the two of us with fire in her eyes. She grabbed my cheeks and planted her lips on mine. I could feel the jealousy radiate off her kiss, but I didn’t mind it.

It felt kind of nice to have someone care so much that they were jealous.

Y/N’s lips on mine felt so nice I didn’t even register what she said when she pulled away. She seemed angry at Meg, but all I could think about was that kiss. There was something so special about human kisses because I knew that it meant a lot more.

It only took one kiss to change my whole world, and I was fine with that.

Your love is like a river Peaceful and deep Your soul is like a secret That I never could keep When I look into your eyes I know that it's true God must have spent A little more time On you (A little more time, yes he did baby)

“What’s it like to be an angel?” Y/N asked me in bed. I held her in my arms, and I used my Grace to keep her warm in all places so that she didn’t feel the cold. The Bunker’s heater was slightly broken, so only the rooms closest to the boiler room got the heat, which meant her room was cold. I tried my best to keep her warm, and by the look of the blissful smile on her face, she was.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s it like to fly? To have wings? To never feel hunger or sickness or disease.”

“I’m not sure. I wouldn't have anything to compare it to.”

“You have wings, right?” she asked, looking up at me.

“I do.”

“Why can’t I see them?”

“You can see the shadow they cast, but wings are invisible to the human eye.”

“Oh,” she nodded. I could tell by the way she flitted her eyes back and forth that she had an idea brewing. “Like Hellhounds.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“I’ll be right back,” she grinned, untangling herself from my arms. She ran out of the room and returned a short time later with a pair of glasses in her hands.

“What’s that?”

“Hellhound glasses. Hellhounds are invisible to humans, as well. I figured they may work on your wings,” she grinned. I didn’t want to get her hopes up in case it didn’t work, but that smile was too big and bright for me to kill.

“Try it,” I nodded. I made sure my wings were extended when she placed them on her face, but she didn’t say anything when she did. “Do you see them?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, letting tears fall from her eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

“I didn’t think angel wings could be so beautiful,” she gasped happily, covering her mouth with her hands.

I was completely and utterly in love with her.

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demonsofhunting · 5 years

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All My Sins - Chapter 12

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: Castiel goes out for a walk to clear his mind. If he would have known what awaits him in the foggy mist, he would have never stepped out of his doors...things are getting bloody.

Warnings: angst, kinda strong violence, torture, blood...have I said violence?

Words: about 1900

A/N: Welcome to chapter 12! *hides* I hope that you won't hate me after reading this one...well, the suffering continues, I guess? XD I kinda hate how much I enjoy writing such chapters...kinda. But well, here you go. Have fun! XD I'm so inspired right now, it's almost creepy. Yep, watching horror movies and listening to Marilyn Manson and gothic metal/rock inspires me A LOT! :D

Catch up here ( Masterlist )

Anyway, I hope you will like it! Enjoy! <3

It is cold outside. Cas shivers, and rubs his arms with a quick gesture. He doesn't really know where to go. All he knows is that he needs to think about some serious things...immediately. He needs to clear his chaotic mind a little. Maybe I should take a walk through the woods...they're beautiful this season. He nods, lightly, but then he decides that this wouldn't be the best thing to do right now. No. It would take too much time...I will just head for the small park in town. Then I will make my way home, and go for a small supply run on the way back. It's around 5pm and it's already getting dark outside...how is this even possible? He begins to walk down the street. The leafs at the trees, that are lining the street, are already turning into autumn colours. It's strangely beautiful. It's scary how something that is dying can be that wonderful... He has to think of Dean's words. How the other told him how much he enjoys seeing the life fading within a creatures eyes...how much he hates that he loves it. Castiel swallows. I need to get that demonic part out of him As soon as possible. There is fog crawling down the street, becoming thicker and thicker. Wow. It's really that time of the year again I miss the sun. A few cars drive by, fastly. The air smells fresh and heavy. Rainy. Cas breathes in, deeply, filling his lungs until they almost seem to explode. Damn, that feels good. The priest walks around the next block of houses. He can already see the 'town's park'. It is just a small amount of trees with a rather big area of grass in between. A small pond is placed right in the middle of it, looking lonely and pretty dirty. Cas steps closer until he can take a brief look in the pond, watching his blurry reflection on the water's surface. His face seems pale in the odd light of the cloudy day, just his blue eyes are shining like two stars, making a big contrast to his black hair. He smiles. "I am powerful," he whispers, quietly, tilting his head while following the movement, that gets reflected in the water, with his eyes. I am powerful. Suddenly, he feels someone breathing down his neck. Again. His heart skips a beat, and he stops moving. He closes his eyes for a moment, then he turns around, quickly. He gasps. "Meg! What are you doing here?! You almost scared me to death," Cas stutters, crossing his arms, nervously. She just looks at him, seriously. Her eyes are dark, and her expression is unreadable. "Clarence," she confirms. "...yeah?" "What are you doing out here all on you own? So damn vulnerable, don't you think?" She cocks her head a little, her gaze is going up and down on his body. It is making him hella uncomfortable. "You know what? You're right. I should go. See ya, Meg," the priest bursts out, fastly, already trying to walk past her. But he stops, as she grabs his wrist, firmly. "Where are you going, Clarence?" she purrs, pulling him closer. "Home. Away from you. I don't care," he hisses, trying to avoid any contact between their bodies in despair, "Let me go." His heart is already beating faster. When did she got so strong? What does she want from me? Her smile is cold as ice, her grip strong as steal. "I don't think so," she hums, placing one hand in his hair, gripping it tight. And as Castiel looks her in the eyes, he can watch them go pitch black within a few seconds. No...this...this can't be... "Meg," he rasps, panic is raging in his chest as he tries to fight her hold. "No, honey. You broke my heart. Now you will have to pay. You...you and your whore of a boyfriend, you won't make it! I will take care of that. Of you. You're his weakness, Clarence. Without you, he's just another dumbass without any anchor, going straight to hell." She laughs, licking over his cheek, even though Cas makes a face in disgust. "Stop it. You - you can't do that. Meg! I - " he stutters, trying to get free once again. But her grip just gets firmer, her hand in his hair feels like she placed buring spikes there, ready to rip his whole head off. Castiel can feel his sight getting blurry, as blood is running from the top of his head over his face, warm and...no! "Let's see what Dean - o will say if I help his precious little angel to get rid of his wings, huh? If I rip the skin of his broken, bleeding body? Oh, I bet he would love it!" How does she know - She laughs, coldly, and suddenly, there is a sharp pain pulsing through his body, starting right at his head. He can't help but cry out. "Who shall save you, Clarence. We're all on our own," she scoffs, pushing him away from her body, roughly. He trips backwards, and suddenly, there is nothing under his feet, but...water. The pond! Cas doesn't even get to think one clear though before he falls right into the dirty pond. It's cold as ice, making his limbs ache and then go numb, immediately. His hands are longing for something to hold on in despair, his eyes are wide open but he sees nothing. I...help...I... Then, there is a strong hand grabbing him by his coat, pulling him out of the water. He coughs, breathing in, heavily. I need...air... Everything hurts as he struggles to get up to his feet again, just to gets pushed to the ground, brutally. "Poor, weak, human Cas..." Meg's scoffing voice rings in his ears, hurtfully. He tries to get somehow away from her, crawling over the grass, shaking. I...I feel like I can't move. But she just grips him by his shoulders, turning him around, so that he lies on his back. Before he can get up, she already sits on his chest, her fingers are like long, sharp claws, running over his throat. He clutches his fingers around her arms, pushing her away, but she is just too strong. No! This - Her eyes are all black as she leans forth, bringing her face closer to his. He closes his eyes, and suddenly, there is a sharp pain in his chest, making him cry out. It feels like she carves something into his skin, ripping the fabric of his clothes apart. Castiel screams, trying to get her off his body, but the pain just gets bigger and bigger, until the priest feels like he is going to pass out. Doesn't anybody hear me?! Please! I need help! Dean - And in this moment, the pain stops. Suddenly. He breathes in sharply, blinking. Castiel struggles to see clear again. There can be screams heard in near distance. A high female voice. A familiar voice. Meg. She is fighting with somebody. "Fuck you, Winchester!" she shouts, roughly, followed by something that sounds like someone being pushed to the ground with much force. Winchester. Dean! But... Castiel sits up, slowly, wincing at the pain that pulses through his body as he moves. He looks down on himself, quickly. Oh no. Besides the fact that his clothes are soaking wet and he is freezing, Meg decided to rip his trechcoat apart - just as his shirt - to...carve some strange symbols into his skin. Right now he can't say much about what they look like. There is way too much blood dripping from the cuts, running down his chest, over his clothes... He swallows, trying not to gasp. As his gaze goes up, he can't help but stare. What he sees makes his heart almost stop. Dean is here. He is really here. He stands in front of Meg, wiping some blood from his face. His facial expression is the darkest thing that Cas has ever seen. Wild. Demonic. His eyes are flashing black as he storms into Meg's direction, trying to get the knife that she holds between her fingers. They're fighting for a couple of heartbeats, Castiel winces at every single hit. Dean fights like a lion. It's inhuman how much strength he has. Both of them. But well. They are not human, are they? Dean finally got the knife, and grips it, firmly. He smiles, coldly. "You - " Meg hisses, but her words end in an inhuman scream as the metal blade carves deep into the skin of her abdomen. "I told you to get your fucking hands off my boyfriend, Meg. You didn't listen to me, now he have to live with the consequences," Dean says, his voice is dark and dangerous. Castiel inhales, sharply. "Dean..." he manages to say, but the word just comes out as a little whisper. He decides to try again. "Dean!" The other recognizes him, immediately. The young man turns around, and before he can do anything against it or Cas can try to warn him, Meg kicks him right in the face. Dean cries out and stumbles backwards. The other demon gets to her feet, heavily. There is blood dripping from her abdomen, and she covers it with her hands, quickly. "I...this...this isn't over yet!" she screams, and then, she just runs away, leaving a bloddy line behind her on the grass. Dean tries to grab her foot, but she is way too fast for him to catch her, even though she is hurt. "Such a...bitch!" Dean growls in anger, getting to his feet again. His whole body is shaking, his fists are balled. There is blood on his clothes. Oh, so much blood... Castiel watches him closing his eyes, and inhaling, deeply. It's like he forces himself to calm down. After he made it, he opens his eyes, slowly. They're green now. Forest green. Dean's green, green eyes... His facial expression softens as well as he looks at Cas, already running over to him. "Cas!" The priest winces slightly as Dean hugs him, passionately. Ouch. That's hurts. The other immediately notices, and pulls away, slowly. "Sorry..." he mutters,"I knew that she would go after you again! I just knew it! Are...are you alright?" He strokes Cas' cheek, gently. The priest nods. "I am. Well...kinda. Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" His voice is raspy, his throat hurts. Dean shrugs: "I have to admit that I followed you like a creep, and I'm so fucking glad that I decided to do that. I just saved you ass, honey. " "Yeah...I can see that. And thank you, but...you can't be out here, Dean! What if - " As if he has called for it, there are some flashing lights flickering in the distance, followed by a loud noise. "What? The neighbours called the fucking police? Now? Too late, guys!" Dean yells in frustration, running a bloody hand through his hair, "Fuck, fuck, fuck! Cas, hurry up. We need to go. Now." The priest nods, pulling himself up on the other's body. He immediately kinda collapses into Dean's arms, shaking. "S - sorry," he bursts out, making a face in pain. His chest feels like it is covered in needles. Needles that carve into his skin with every move he makes... "No need to apologise. C'mon. We have to run." And they do.

( A/N: Next chapter on October 4, 2019 <3 )

That was chapter twelve! Thank you so much for reading, and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit, I will love you forever! <3

Tag lists are open!

Destiel/Forever Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @rebeloftheseas @ablavalba @smodernlife @ignis-glaciesque @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @xsghn @helpmeluci @trenchcoatsandfreckles @legendary-destiel @leahslovelylibrary

"All My Sins" Tags: @emodestielshipper @emumag @waywardtricksterangel @didntwanderstillgotlost @angel-e-v-a @burnigontheceiling @too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc

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botls · 5 years

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meeting tltm cast 9/29/19

seeing hadestown parts 1 and 2 and meeting the hadestown cast

please send me an ask or message me to ask anymore questions!!

my plan was to screen record the whole thing to hear all the conversations back but apparently screen record doesn’t pick up sound or my phone isn’t updated idk but i now have a lot of silent videos of me freaking out lmao

i didn’t actually see the show but i stage doored bc i saw hadestown that day and after dinner the timing worked out that we were still on 48th street when tlt was ending so i went and if you are someone who is upset by that i am deeply sorry but i will not be responding to any criticisms of my life decisions at this time

sam leicht:

but anyway since i wasn’t seeing the show i was waiting by the side of the theater earlier and low and behold who walks out but fucking sam leicht and i literally got so starstruck but i could tell he was trying to leave before the rush and he was so focused on getting out i didn’t stop him or anything because he wasn’t stage dooring and i didn’t want to bother him in case he didn’t want anyone coming up to him but i saw The Legs in action and can i just say Wow

izzy figueroa:

izzy came out right at the beginning and i cheered for him but nobody else did rip i would have asked for a picture but he was clearly looking for somebody and then he found them and they were hugging and left so i just let him be

sarah beth pfiefer:

sarah came out first and i was so so so happy to see her she is such a cutie and an icon she had a plaid shirt around her waist i wanted to bow down

ryan knowles:

next ryan came out and he was so smiley and so fricking tall it was insane i met timothy hughes and ryan knowles in the same day and even though i was wearing like three inch platform shoes trying to fit us both in the frame was an issue both times jagsgsjskwlw my live pic of us includes me going “😬 i’m too short”

james hayden rodriguez:

james came out next and everyone YELLED so loud and like so did i but right after the noise died down i hadn’t realized and at the top of my lungs went “OH MY GOD” and everyone laughed lmao but anyway he was so friendly and after our picture when he was talking to the next girls that i had lowkey become friends with i was like “i LOVE the good kid reprise” and he was like “yeah thanks i love singing it” and then the girls next to me and i were just talking about it and we were like “it gives me life” and he was laughing and stuff cutie

kristin stokes:

KRISTIN CAME OUT NEXT AND I ACTUALLY ASCENDED OH MY GOD so right before kristin the costume lady came out and she was wearing a super kristin-style dress so at first i thought she WAS kristin when you see her walking through the gate but when the door opened and she stepped out everyone like. sighed disappointedly and she was like “yeah sorry im just costume design” and i reached out my hand like “WAIT NO YOU DO A GREAT JOB” lmao like. she really does thank you queen for giving annabeth a choker but anyway kristin came out and me and the girls next to me were talking about how gorgeous her outfit was and oh my god her makeup was SLAYING she’s a QUEEN amongst us then when she was talking to us one girl was like “i love your outfit” and she was like “aww thank you” and i said “yeah for real i live for your little socks” and then she did this little curtsie/dress lift thing it was precious and then just like that it was over and i was like i. just met kristin stokes. what the fuck

chris mccarrell:

next it was CHRIS and holy shit i love him more than anything he looked so cute and for every person i had been helping all the people behind me pass up their playbills and get whatever pictures they wanted so as i was grabbing all the playbills to pass up and stuff chris was like “aw look at her making sure everyone gets their stuff they want signed” my heart started beating double time like !! chris mccarrell thinks i’m a good person????? i can never do anything bad again so then he kind of started moving down the line and i reached out my arm like “WAIT NO can we please get a picture first” so he said “of COURSE” and he like. THREW himself back over i have the live picture of him zooming into frame it is so cute and funny and then i told him “i love your shirt i LIVE for that” and the girls next to me were like “yeah” and i think one said where is it from or maybe he just decided to say like i missed this part bc i was grabbing someone’s playbill for him (by the way i got to TAP CHRIS MCCARRELL ON THE SHOULDER AND SAY “wait do you mind signing just one more”) but anyway he was like “thanks i think it’s from....cl-uh-clarence outfitters? wait uh urban outfitters?” we were all laughing and i was like “yeah i think it’s probably that one” and he smiled right at me while nodding and was like “probably” WHAT a cutie the whole time that he was out i couldn’t stop saying “wow look at his floofy hair” and him, kristin, and jorrel def all heard me at least once each oop

jorrel javier:

jorrel came out and to be honest it was so overwhelming because him and chris were going opposite directions and they got to us at kind of the same time so the second chris left - enter: jorrel and i was still reeling from chris so i just remember trying to make my brain work by like “hi ohmygodiloveyoupictureplease” he obviously said yes and we got the smileyest pictures ever he is so cute and smol in person i was the real life uwu emoji he made some joke about chris looking good or something bc chris was right behind the camera and i have my live photo of us laughing and me saying “honestly” so that’s the cutest thing to ever happen to me

but anyway yeah that was it!! it was honestly one of the best experiences ive ever had, like i said, i wasnt originally planning to stage door at tlt so as for seeing and meeting the cast of hadestown i at least knew that was happening and had time to (somewhat) come to terms with that mentally but this was sprung on me so randomly and im SO glad it was! im trying to go see it this winter but ive honestly lost hope on seeing this show so many times in the past that i kind of saw this as my possible one chance and i took it. after i was so overwhelmed that i sobbed on my way back to penn. this cast and show has meant so much to me from the beginning and seeing it had disappeared from my realm of possibility so many times that actually meeting them in person was straight out of a dream. so many times i thought it was closing, so many plans to see it that fell through, and finally getting to meet them just doesnt even feel real despite the pictures and videos i have literally proving it. i am so grateful to have had this experience that im sure i will remember forever. each and every one of them was so sweet and personable and genuinely seemed to enjoy being out there. i love them so much and now im crying again i have to stop

#was botls #IT WAS AMAZING GUYS #the time i saw hadestown #about me #tlt musical #fav

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noramoya · 5 years

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PART ONE :

OF LINDA-RAVEN WOODS’S

02/28/2019 ARTICLE .

“America has a long and sordid history of lynching or unfairly convicting African-American men based on the false allegations of white accusers. The names known to history echo loud and long — Robin White, Emmett Till, Charlie Weems, Ozie Powell, Clarence Norris, Andrew and Leroy Wright, Olen Montgomery, Willie Anderson, Haywood Patterson, Eugene Williams (the latter nine known collectively as “The Scottsboro Boys”) to contemporary names such as Vincent Patton, still serving time in Angola Prison despite the fact that his white accuser later confessed that “all black men look alike” to her and therefore she could not even say with certainty that Patton had raped her.

And these cases do not even begin to include the many whose names have long been lost to history; those who paid the ultimate price for the paranoid fears of a Jim Crow-era America. “We currently live in a world of fake news and alternative facts,” wrote Martinzie Johnson in an excellent think piece titled “Being Black in a World Where White Lies Matter.” Martinzie then states, “white lies have tangible consequences.”

Martinizie wrote this piece a few days after a bombshell confession by Carolyn Bryant, the young white woman whose accusation of Emmett Till fifty-two years prior resulted in the 14-year-old boy being kidnapped from his uncle’s home and murdered by her husband and brother-in-law. It took half a century for Bryant to finally admit to biographer Timothy B. Tyson that“nothing that boy did justified what was done to him.”

The current hype that has been built around Leaving Neverland, a film directed by Dan Reed and funded and distributed by HBO in the U.S. and Channel 4 in the U.K., may appear deceptively at first as an important film for the #MeToo era, highlighting the alleged sexual abuse that Michael Jackson inflicted on two young boys who idolized him and fell-by grand and parental design-into his circle. At least, that is according to the hype that has been drummed up around it.

But a closer look reveals many disturbing reasons to argue that this agenda-driven film has little to do with either journalistic integrity or concern for sexual abuse victims. Instead, there are many justifiable reasons to argue why this film is simply a new twist on the age-old concept of lynching a black man based on white lies. The fact that it is a black man who also just happened to be one of the most beloved and powerful figures in entertainment is, of course, the very matter at the heart of the film’s controversy, along with the fact that we are into the tenth anniversary of his passing.

At a time when Michael Jackson’s life should be the subject of fond remembrances and reflections on his artistic legacy, we instead get this, the equivalent of a posthumous, 21st century lynching based on nothing but the uncorroborated testimonies of two men whose civil case against his estate has already been dismissed, not once but twice.

Why is the “woke” crowd so determinedly asleep at the wheel on this? And an even more troubling question: Why are so many of the most influential journalists in the U.S. and U.K. enabling it? Dan Reed’s controversial film has indeed accomplished one positive goal even before its scheduled broadcast, although it may not be the goal he intended.

For sure, the film has helped shed much needed light on the underbelly of #MeToo, revealing some startlingly dark truths about who the movement is designed to protect-and who it is willing to sacrifice.

But first, let’s back up and look at the key players in this drama. We have Michael Jackson, whose story has already passed into the realm of an American mythical figure, a poor black kid who worked his way up from nothing to become one of the most legendary musical figures of all time. This was a man who worked non-stop from the age of five to build his legacy. In the 45 years of his life that he gave to the public, he managed to break records, to achieve what few black artists before him had done (including owning, at one time, half the Sony-ATV catalogue), and to build a legacy that is intricately woven into the fabric of U.S. pop culture. But beyond that, he became a world icon in a way that only a very few American artists have achieved.

This is all a long way of saying Michael Jackson worked hard — damn hard — — to build what he achieved. And before we start trying to dismantle that legacy based on nothing but the words of two white men who joined his long list of hangers-on, we’d better be looking long and hard at the facts. That is, if we want to be able to live with ourselves in the aftermath.

But herein lies at least some of the problem. Most who have already followed the story to any degree are already at least superficially aware that there are inherent issues with the claims of Wade Robson and James Safechuck, the two subjects of this documentary. It is widely known, for instance, that Wade Robson-as a 23-year-old adult- testified in Jackson’s defense at his 2005 trial, swearing under oath and penalty of perjury that nothing sexual ever happened between them. But the inconsistencies, as well as problematic and ever changing timelines in their stories, goes much deeper.

On February 7 2019, the estate of Michael Jackson sent a strongly worded letter to HBO CEO Richard Plepler, followed by another a couple of days later to Channel 4 CEO Alex Mahon. The letter to HBO outlined, in painstaking 10-page detail, the long, problematic history of Robson’s and Safechuck’s claims (coming from attorneys who have spent the better part of the last six years battling these very allegations in court), while the letter to Channel 4 specified that the program is in direct violation of the channel’s guidelines for ethical journalism, citing a clause which states that any program making “significant allegations” must allow “those concerned” to be “given an appropriate and timely opportunity to respond.” Both letters were explicitly detailed, powerful complaints against the two accusers, highlighting the many various flaws and inaccuracies with their stories. Collectively, they revealed a dark history of two opportunists who took advantage of Jackson’s generosity and friendship.

Interestingly, what Dan Reed chose to leave out of his film is as interesting as what he chose to leave in. While I have not seen the film, I know sources who have, and who have been able to describe to me in detail what it represents. It is, quite frankly, a one-sided film in which only two voices are heard-that of Robson and Safechuck.

Now, let’s make an analogy. Suppose you had to decide a court case based only on hearing the prosecution’s case presented? Suppose there is no defense, no cross examination, no presentation of exculpatory evidence, no opening statement and no closing argument? You would no doubt find the story as presented only through the voice of the prosecution and their witnesses quite compelling. It is only under cross examination that those stories often start to crumble, raising what we might call reasonable doubt. And it is only through exculpatory evidence that we can actually weigh an accused person’s guilt, or lack thereof.

Leaving Neverland is essentially the equivalent of sitting through a four-hour testimony of two prosecution witnesses offering their sales pitches, without benefit of cross examination.

Entertaining? Possibly, if you consider four hours’ worth of extremely graphic descriptions of sexual acts against children entertaining. Truthful? Hard to say, except we know the track record of the accusers. Fair or ethical? Absolutely not, especially given that the accused subject of the film is deceased.

Which brings us back to Channel 4’s weak defense when confronted by the estate. Their claim is that the film contains denials Jackson made in his own lifetime. However, these would have been denials Jackson raised against the accusations made against him in 1993 and 2005. He did not have the opportunity to “deny” the accusations made by Robson and Safechuck, who waited four and five years after his death, respectively, to bring them.

As for HBO, their only response-after having it outlined for them in 10 excruciatingly detailed pages exactly everything that was wrong with the stories these two men are claiming- was that it was “powerful.” In other words, what they were actually confessing is that ratings matter more than truth, fairness, or accuracy.

This truly begs the question: Would HBO have been so quick to fund and support this project had its subject been any celebrity other than Michael Jackson? Moreover, would the immediate condemnation of the media have been as swift to rush to judgment without at least raising a question mark or a demand for vetting of the film’s accuracy? My guess is that the answer would be no.

Of course, if we raise that question, it would also be fair to acknowledge that Jackson’s legacy is one that many feel is already tainted by doubt. After all, he was accused by the parents of Jordan Chandler in 1993, and ten years later, the Arvizo allegations resulted in a grueling 5- month trial which ended in his acquittal on 14 counts. It would be understandable to have doubts and questions, as I did back in 2009 when I first began researching the allegations made against Jackson.

For many, those lingering questions remained even after Jackson’s death. At the time, public sentiment largely fell into three camps: Those who always believed, unequivocally, in his innocence; those who said, “Whatever may have happened, it’s past; let him RIP” and then those few who continued, with dogged determination, to unearth his corpse and prop it up for re-trial in the court of public opinion. It may go without saying that those who are standing behind and supporting this project fall into the latter category. But unless we accept the naïve explanation that this project is all about “justice for victims”, there are bigger questions that need to be addressed: WHO IS REALLY BEHIND THIS ?! ALSO, WHY NOW ?! AND WHAT ARE THEY REALLY HOPING TO GAIN FROM IT ?!

It is astonishing beyond belief that no one in the mainstream media — not one serious investigative journalist — seems willing to raise these questions !

What many fail to realize is that Jackson became a target for a racist driven agenda. What appears, deceptively, as a case of “smoke and fire” was actually a long and quite convoluted history of “smoke and mirrors.” The first accusation grew out of a personal dispute between Jackson and the first boy’s father, Evan Chandler, when Jackson refused to finance Chandler’s trilogy of film projects.

Although Jackson eventually settled that case out of court, the civil settlement did not preclude a criminal trial. Rather, two Grand Jury hearings failed to bring an indictment. However, because Jackson did settle the case, opening the door for financial gain to be made at his expense, a cottage industry of accusing Michael Jackson was thus born.

Every accusation made since then, including those of Robson and Safechuck, has come down to an issue of money. It is, after all, easy to make up a convincing story, and in the case of Michael Jackson, all they had to do is study the details and patterns of previous stories. A little known fact is that Janet Arvizo consulted the same attorney who had represented the Chandlers (a pattern that has continued, with both Robson and Safechuck represented by the law firm Manly, Stewart & Finaldi ).

Many of these shadesters were convinced that the best case scenario was that they might hit a financial windfall on a par with the Chandlers. But at the very least, even when they knew their bogus stories would never hold up in a court of law, they could always count on the tabloids, some of whom were known to shell out as much as six figures for any potential dirt on Michael Jackson.

The 2005 case against Jackson was, in reality, an absolute travesty of justice that should never have gone to trial, another case of a family that took advantage of his generosity and then tried to “get back” when the friendship soured. However, if there was at least one positive aspect that came from it, it was the fact that this also served as the trial by jury that Jackson did not receive back in 1993. Tom Sneddon, in his gloating determination to “get” Jackson at all costs, actually reversed then current California laws against bringing in prior allegations. This meant that questions, evidence and witnesses from the 1993 case could also be introduced.

Jackson, in essence, was not only exonerated from the claims that the Arvizo family made against him, but those of the Chandlers as well. It seemed in theory, at least, that he had finally gotten the chance to fight those accusations in court just as he had initially wanted to do, back in ’93.

Dan Reed’s film only scratches the surface of the Chandler and Arvizo allegations, which may be understandable from a narrative standpoint if his focus is on the stories of the Robson and Safechuck families, but seems nevertheless a puzzling omission for a film whose entire context comes out of these two past sets of allegations.

What is more damning, however, is the fact that his film also only scratches the surface of the two more current claims that it is purporting to be about. The film presents only the subjects themselves telling their alleged side and their alleged stories of abuse, while purposely choosing to omit any counter narratives or rebuttal testimonies. In the Q&A that followed the film’s premier at Sundance, Dan Reed appeared to dodge this very specific question when asked.

https://youtu.be/BMcte6orvQc

Given the very serious nature of the allegations being waged in this film, to purposely omit any kind of rebuttal testimony (especially on behalf of a deceased individual) is beyond unethical.

While Dan Reed, HBO, and Channel 4 have continued to hide behind the mantra of the oft-repeated “let the viewer make up their mind” the film itself offers no such opportunity.

Furthermore, the film seems to purposely omit details that would obviously raise questions in the viewer’s minds regarding Robson’s motives. For example, why did Robson continue to defend Jackson and to speak glowingly of his friendship with him right up until 2013, when he was denied the chance to direct the Michael Jackson Cirque du Soleil show?

* answer to these questions on

PART TWO !

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vanilla107 · 6 years

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When Forces Collide

Okay firstly I wrote this a while back and I honestly adored this show. I really hope that there are still fans of Kick Buttowski! Here's a Kick X Kendall fic! I hope you all like it!

Stay healthy vanilla107 xoxo

Summery: When a science experiment goes horribly wrong, Kick Buttowski and Kendall Perkins are punished by having to work together for the upcoming dance. Kendall who has always been in charge of the dance is convinced that Kick will ruin it and Kick thinks that the dance will be incredibly boring with Kendall being in charge. What happens when they put aside their differences? Will a love blossom?

Read on A03

Kendall Perkins was a perfect student.

She aced all her classes, was involved in extra-curricular activities and her attendance record was flawless. The only thing holding her back was the fact that she had developed the weirdest crush in the local daredevil, Clarence ‘Kick’ Buttowski.

Clarence had been a thorn in her side for as long as she could remember and all she wanted was him to stop his daredevil antics and let her work in peace. But strangely, her attention slowly began to drift to how hard he worked to be a stuntman. He purposefully risked his life everyday to do stunts that were bigger and more dangerous than the last and in some way, that determination was sort of attractive to her.

But at the present moment, she was ready to rip his head off.

Kick thought it would be ‘cool’ to add double the amount of chemicals to their experiment which caused the entire class to be filled with foam. Since Kendall had been his science partner, she was automatically blamed as well since she should’ve been monitoring him. The two students sat outside the principal’s office waiting to receive their punishment.

“Y’know Clarence, if you hadn’t decided that foaming up the whole science class would be cool, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Well you were hogging the instruction sheet so I couldn’t see the correct amount I needed! If you just let me see the page, the class wouldn’t have foamed up!”

At that moment, the principal’s door opened and Kendall groaned as they walked inside. The principal ushered them to their seats and looked at them.

“Kendall Perkins, you are one of the star students in your grade. Clarence Buttowski, although you seem to go through moments of school spirit to doing your own thing, you add the oomf! of school pride the school needs. I’ve noticed that this isn’t the first time that the two of you clash with each other which is why, as punishment; I’ve signed you both up for the end of term dance committee.”

In unison, Kick and Kendall screamed, “What?”

“You’ll work together and see that you two are capable of pulling off planning a dance together and making it a success,” the principal continued, ignoring their reactions.

“But…but...I usually plan the dance! I can’t have Kick ruining everything!” Kendall yelled and Kick glared at her.

“Those dances lame anyway! The decorations are the same ones from last year and your music choice puts me to sleep!” Kick said angrily and Kendall felt her blood boil.

“Do you have any idea how expensive it is to get brand new decorations, Clarence? And music choices are excellent for dances!”

“If you think the waltz being played on loop is excellent then you really need to listen to more genres! And decorations-”

“-And this is why, I’ve decided that you two do this together,” the principal said and Kick and Kendall collapsed into silence.

“Kendall, you’ll still be in charge of the dance since you’ve got experience but I must admit, having someone who has observed the last few dances organized by you will be good criticism and will definitely make this dance better than the last! Now, you two will discuss the theme for the dance this afternoon and give feedback tomorrow to the rest of the dance committee.”

Kendall sighed and nodded and saw Kick nod as well.

“Great! Don’t let the school down, I’m sure you’ll work together wonderfully!”

*********************************************************

Kendall had been counting down the hours till school ended so that she could get the planning with Kick done as soon as possible.

I can’t believe this is my punishment! Ugh, how is he supposed to help anyway? She thought.

She entered the school hall and hopped onto the stage and took a seat, her legs dangling over the edge. She took out her notebook and pen and began jotting down ideas for the theme.

Under the sea Tropical Island Enchanted night Candyland Hollywood

She looked at them and at that moment Kick walked into the hall and took a seat next to her.

“You’re five minutes late,” Kendall said, the annoyed tone evident in her voice. Kick rolled his eyes and huffed.

“Sorry. I had to dodge Wacky- I mean Jackie.”

“That crazy girl who’s obsessed with you?”

Kick stared at Kendall and he burst out laughing.

“I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious. She always asks you questions when you have to do a presentation and she’s always talking about you. It’s really not that difficult to see.”

Kick nodded and he saw the list of possible themes.

“Under the sea? Nope!”

“Why not? It’s a classic.”

“It’s been done a hundred times and seafood is expensive if you want to serve seafood as food. Same reasons for Tropical Island and Enchanted night. Kendall, these themes are all over done. We need something new and radical to make everyone excited for the dance.”

And thus began the brainstorming and bickering. Every possible theme the two of them came up with, the other shot it down.

“Disco?” asked Kick.

“No, I do not need people turning up in bell-bottomed jeans, wigs and legwarmers. It needs to be more formal, Clarence, unlike your usual tastes.” Kendall said rolling her eyes.

Kick growled angrily but Kendall didn’t care.

“Oh! What about suit and tie?” Kendall squealed excitedly.

“That’s the worst theme yet,” Kick said with a deadpanned expression.

An hour and a half later, Kendall was ready to scream.

“This is pointless! What is the point of putting us to work together if we can’t even think of a good enough theme!” Kendall yelled in frustration and Kick put his head on the floor.

“Well, it’s not my fault all your themes are old and overdone!”

“At least my ideas aren’t ridiculous!”

“At least people would actually have fun!”

“My dances are fun!”

“Yeah, right! Tell that to the janitor who fell asleep at your last one!” Kendall glared at the daredevil and stood up.

“If only we could agree on a stupid theme-“ Kendall froze and looked at Kick.

“Kick…remember the dance presentation we had to do?”

Kick lifted up his head and gave her a rare smile.

“How could I forget? We were awesome! With your ballet and my wrestling we were unstoppable! The way we mixed our two styles-“

Kendall grinned when she saw the light bulb in his head click on.

“We need to mix our styles again,” he murmured and sat up straight and picked up her discarded notebook. He read over then crossed out list again and hummed in thought.

“Okay, what if we take Hollywood?” Kick asked and Kendall looked at him in surprise.

“But I thought you said that was overdone?”

“It is but what if we made it more…Lights, Camera…Action! That way we can include directors, makeup artists and-“

“-Stuntmen?” Kendall offered and the two grinned at each other.

“We could get some of the yearbook committee members to dress as paparazzi and have a red carpet for photos!”

“And we could get a backdrop of the Oscars for the food table and we could have simple snacks but all movie themed!”

“And…maybe a DJ for music?” Kendall murmured and looked up at him and she saw Kick’s infamous grin.

“I think we’ve got ourselves a theme, Kendall Perkins.”

****************************************************

Kick and Kendall stood before the dance committee members in the hall the next day to present the theme. Kick could see that Kendall was confident with her presentation of the theme but he could tell she was nervous by her shaky hands.

Guess she wants the committee to be excited about this too, he thought.

“-And that is this year’s theme! So any questions?” Kendall asked the crowd of committee members before her and she was greeted with enthusiastic whispers.

Kendall felt a huge weight off her shoulders and grinned. It was a first for everyone to be so excited for a dance theme and she couldn’t have asked for more. The planning with Kick took an extra hour the day before after they both finally agreed on ‘Lights, Camera…ACTION!’ as their theme, but it had all be worth it.

“Okay, looks like we’re all in agreement! Let’s split up into groups! Group 1 will focus on decorations, Group 2 on food and Group 3 on music!” Kendall instructed.

She watched in amazement at everyone excitedly whispering and getting into their groups. She felt her heart swell with happiness.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before,” Kick chuckled and she rolled her eyes but there was still a smile on her lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been the excited for planning a dance before! Now, let’s go help out!”

She grabbed Kick by his arm and walked to Group 3.

**************************************************************************

The Groups had been a bit of a problem at first when someone disagreed on the DJ and wanted a live band instead but that argument was quickly shut down by Kick when he said that a DJ could play everyone’s favourite songs.

There was a scuffle over balloons and glitter but that had been resolved by Kendall. After all the problems had been solved Kendall and Kick looked over the budget and after a few calculations, they still had enough money to get something extra for the dance.

“Photo booth?” Kick asked and Kendall hummed in thought.

“But don’t we have the backdrop and homecoming committee already taking photos?”

“Well yeah, but this is more for the people there. Like these photos people can take home and make funny faces in their photo with their friends.”

Kendall nodded slowly and smiled.

“Photo booth it is!”

Now, everyone was painting the big ‘Hollywood’ sign that would be used in the backdrop for the pictures. Kendall stretched her aching arms and looked at her watch. Two hours had passed and she felt that keeping the committee there any longer would be unfair. “Okay everyone! That’s enough for today! Thank you and I’ll see you all same time tomorrow!” she yelled and soon all the students were gone except her and Kick.

“Wow…that was more fun than I expected,” Kick admitted as he put down a large brush that he’d been using and grinned at the Hollywood sign.

“See, planning a dance is fun and we’re working together!” Kendall said and playfully hit his helmet.

He shook his head and gave her a gentle shove and they laughed. It was moments like this that reminded Kendall why she liked Kick. When he was passionate about something he put in his all. It reminded her how he could be reasonable and a hard-worker.

The two walked out of the hall, discussing lighting and switched off the lights, enveloping the hall in darkness.

******************************************************

The next two weeks few by and there was only four more days till the dance. The committee had worked tirelessly and everything was coming together.

The decorations were finished and the food had been ordered. Kendall was sitting in her usual spot on the stage after school and had just gotten off the phone with the caterers. She had ordered platters of mini pies, sticky wings and meatballs and a separate platter of vegetables and vegan food as well as a dessert platter with donuts, mini cupcakes, mini apple pies, mini cheese cakes and chocolate éclairs. Kendall had ordered extra just in case but she was sure that there was going to more than enough for everyone.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Kick’s voice became more comforting than casual after spending so much time together and honestly Kendall wanted to get used to it but she knew that once the dance was over, everything would go back to normal.

“Hey Kick, yeah, everything is great! Why do you ask?”

“You look stressed all the time,” he snorted and she huffed.

“I enjoy planning the dance but it does stress me sometimes. Anything could go wrong and I would be blamed.”

Kick burst out laughing.

“Seriously? You, Kendall Perkins, are stressed over a dance that will obviously be the best dance this school has ever seen?”

Kendall blushed at the praise.

“Kick, I wouldn’t give myself that much credit. It’s a team effort-“

“-Yeah, a team effort that wouldn’t have worked without your guidance.”

Kendall didn’t know what to say. Kick had never complimented her like that before.

“Thanks Claren- I mean…Kick…you aren’t too bad yourself,” she grinned and he sat down next to her and looked at her food list.

“Ohhhh, you ordered all this? I am going to be so happy on the night of the dance,” he said imagining the buffet table.

“Remember to leave food for everyone else, Clarence!” she laughed and realized that she called him Clarence in a more joking way instead of when she would use it to make him angry.

“So, you and Ronaldo going together right? Are you going as a celebrity couple or something?” Kick asked.

Kendall shrugged her shoulders and readjusted her hair band to prevent herself from looking into his eyes.

“We…we broke up a few weeks ago. I broke up with him because I just didn’t feel romantic feelings for him anymore,” Kendall said and looked a Kick.

“So, who are you going with? Gunter I presume?”

“Nah, he has a date and even though we usually go as friends, I’m happy for him.”

“So, you’re not going with anyone? Wow, the great Kick Buttowski doesn’t have a date!”

“Hey, you aren’t going with anyone either!”

“Yeah, but before I started dating Ronaldo, I never had a date. I’m used to just organizing and watching everyone else have fun.”

Kendall didn’t realize how pathetic that sounded and she was just about to make up an excuse when Kick spoke.

“So, why don’t we go together?”

Kendall’s jaw dropped and she stared at him.

“Me? With you?”

“Oh, c’mon Kendall. I thought it would be fun since we worked on this together! Plus, we’d look great on the dance floor,” he grinned and Kendall had flashbacks to when they were dance partners.

“Oh...Okay! Sure but I do have requests!”

“I’m regretting asking you now…” Kick groaned and Kendall laughed.

“No, I want your opinion! Which dress should I wear?” she asked as she took out her phone.

Kendall showed him two pictures on her phone. One was an ankle-length baby blue satin dress with a criss-cross back and the other was a gold sequined strapless dress that just hit her knee.

Kick looked at the two dresses very carefully before giving her phone back.

“Well, you look good in both...but I think the the baby blue one. That looks more Hollywood and elegant and more…you,” Kick said with a small smile and Kendall felt her stomach jump in happiness.

“You’re not just saying that because blue is your favourite colour?” Kendall teased.

“Well…I do like blue…but anyway what was your other requests? Let me guess, a corsage, meet your parents at your house and you want a slow dance?”

Kendall froze.

“N-No No! Well, those suggestions are sweet but I just wanted you to promise me you’d help clean up afterwards!” Kendall stuttered and she was sure that Kick turned red.

“Oh...I thought cleaning was already part of the job…” Kick mumbled and he stood up.

“Well, I’ll pick you up at seven, that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay…” Kendall said and watched Kick hop off the stage and begin to walk out of the hall.

“Hey Kick! I’m still expecting a corsage!” she yelled trying hard not to laugh.

She saw his posture go ridged and he ran out of the hall.

***********************************************************************

“Hollywood sign, check!”

“Balloons, check!”

“Decorations all in place? Check!”

Kendall ticked off her to-do list and looked at the school hall that had been turned into a gorgeous venue for their end of term dance. The soft gold chiffon fabric draped elegantly at the entrance and the buffet table was soon to be filled with the food. The backdrop for the photos was in place and the photo booth was being set up. The lights were made to look like cameras and the DJ was setting up. The gold and silver balloons adorned the sides of the ‘Hollywood’ sign and Kendall grinned at her list that had successfully been completed.

“Whew! All done!” she said happily and stretched.

She checked her watch and saw that she still had three hours to get ready for the dance. The yearbook team was going to be taking pictures of the decorations while she was gone so she didn’t need to worry about leaving everything alone. Kendall picked up her bags and started to walk out the hall when she heard a loud bang.

“What the-“ Kendall said spinning around on her heel and she gasped.

“Jackie…what are you doing!” Kendall screeched.

The red head smiled cruelly and popped another silver balloon, the pieces of latex falling to the ground.

“Kendall, Kendall, Kendall…why would you try to steal Kick away from me?”

“Wh-what?” Kendall whispered.

“I know that you like Kick, Kendall. It’s really not that hard to see. But I had faith that you’d never make a move since you refused to acknowledge your feelings and you still see him as a nuisance but I was wrong.”

As Jackie said this, she popped a gold balloon.

“When you were assigned to work together for the dance, I knew your personalities would clash and I hoped that the dance would be a disaster but you worked together perfectly!”

Jackie was shaking with rage.

“Watching you two grow closer and closer with every passing day was maddening and I knew that after the dance you would definitely start hanging out with Kick more and eventually you’d have enough courage to confess your feelings for him. Kick was supposed to be my date to the dance! And you took that from me!”

Kendall felt knots in her stomach. There were five balloons on either side of the buffet table and with Jackie popping them, there would be no balance and all their hard work would’ve been for nothing.

“Stop! Those are for the dance!” Kendall yelled and ran towards her but stopped when Jackie popped the last two balloons on the left side.

“No, Kendall. You don’t want me to pop the other balloons either, now do you?”

Kendall growled,“what do you want?”

Jackie smiled and rolled the pin in her hand.

“I want you to phone Kick right now and tell him that you are not going to the dance tonight. Tell him that you never should’ve agreed and that you hate him. And mean it,” Jackie smirked and stood next to the Hollywood sign.

Kendall’s jaw dropped. “There’s no way I’m saying that!” “Do you want this sign to be pushed over?” Jackie giggled and placed a hand on it.

“No…you, you can’t do that! The dance committee spent hours painting that!”

“Then. Make. The. Call.” Jackie hissed and Kendall shakily took out her phone and dialed Kick’s number.

“Hey Kendall! What’s up?”

Kendall looked at Jackie in anger and Jackie nodded, urging her to talk.

“Kick, I can’t go to the dance with you.”

There was a moment of silence. “Wait what? Kendall, you’re not making sense. Why do you suddenly not want to go?” Kick asked in confusion.

Kendall bit back her tears and clenched her fist.

“Because I hate you Clarence. I always have and always will and putting together this dance with you was a waste of my time. Don’t bother calling me again.”

Without waiting for him to answer, Kendall hung up and glared at Jackie.

“Are you happy now?” Kendall screamed and Jackie nodded. “That was easier than I thought. I never thought threatening you with destroying some little decorations would be so easy.”

“It’s not the decorations!” Kendall snapped, “It’s the fact that I have a reputation to uphold and I’d rather give up the dance than let everyone else down!”

Jackie laughed and rolled her eyes. “Wow, you are really stupid. You’d put other people before you? Wow Kendall, that’s really sweet.”

“Yeah, Kendall really is sweet,” came a familiar voice that made Kendall’s heart beat faster.

She turned her body to the door and sighed in relief whereas Jackie was red with anger.

“Jackie, I don’t know what you’re doing but I have a feeling that it’s nothing good,” Kick said with his arms crossed. Standing next to him was the principle, who looked furious.

“Jackie! What is the meaning of this?” she demanded when she saw the popped balloons and the pin in Jackie’s hand.

Jackie growled and anger and ran towards Kendall. Kick ran from the principle and knocked Kendall to the floor before Jackie could attack her. Kick came face to face with Jackie and grabbed her arms and tried to fight her off.

“What is your problem!” Kick yelled.

“You were never supposed to ask her to the dance. You were supposed to ask me!” Jackie screeched. Suddenly two other teachers ran in and grabbed Jackie.

“Hey! Let me go! I’m supposed to go with Kick! Not Kendall!” The teachers began to drag her out of the hall but before they did, Jackie broke loose of their grip and ran to the Hollywood sign. With one push, the sign fell to the ground and Kendall screamed.

Jackie was grabbed again by the teachers and taken away whereas Kendall put her head in her hands and felt tears in her eyes.

“Kick, Jackie will no longer be allowed to attend the dance this evening and I’m going to give her parents a call. We’ll suspend her for a while but you don’t need to worry about her for tonight. Now…go check on Kendall…I think she needs the support. We’ll see if there’s any extra balloons or white paint for the sign.”

The principle walked away and Kick walked over to the crying girl.

“Hey, don’t cry. We can fix this.”

Kendall sniffed, “We don’t have anymore paint or balloons, Kick. They were all used up. I know that for a fact.”

She stood up and walked over to the Hollywood sign and tried to get it off the floor and with some help from Kick, they pushed it back up.

“Ugh! It’s ruined! The paint has cracked and it’s so noticeable!”

Kick took a good look at the sign before smiling.

“Actually…I have an idea.”

“Wait…how did you know that Jackie was here with me? And why was the principal with you?”

“I was actually walking with her to show off the decorations in the hall. I was on my way to see you because I knew you’d be there. Even though you said that you hated me I knew there was something wrong because you‘d never just say that without a reason. Plus, we had been getting along so well…it just didn’t add up.”

Kendall nodded and Kick looked at her with a smile.

“Now, let’s fix this.”

*******************************************************

Three hours later, Kendall was at the dance, her face hurting from smiling so much. She had never seen such a huge turn up before and the dance floor was bursting with people. She gazed at the Hollywood sign that had been coated in a layer of silver glitter paint and watched as some students took pictures with it. The cracks had been easily hidden by the paint and made the sign ten times better. The balloons at the buffet table were now a centerpiece and it honestly looked better than before. Everyone looked like they were having a good time and Kendall was relieved. When Kick had mentioned the left over glitter paint from one of the school plays, it was their only hope and it worked. The sign glowed in the multicoloured lights and it was the main attraction.

“Mini pies and cupcakes?” Kick offered on a paper plate and Kendall snapped out of her thoughts. She turned to him and gave him a smile and took the plate.

“Dang Kick, you were right. This is the best dance ever!”

“I told you that you could pull it off!” he grinned.

“Not without you!” she said and playfully punched him in the shoulder.

“Well, you ordered the food!”

“You made the theme work!”

“You stopped Jackie from ruining the dance!”

“You-“

“Stop!” Gunter screamed and the two jumped in surprise. “Just dance already! I’m so tired of seeing you two argue over everything!”

To her surprise, Kick laughed. “Gunter, it just this inside joke Kendall and I have. We just like one-uping each other all the time.”

Kendall blushed and Gunter smirked at her reaction.

“Well, trying on-uping each other on the dance floor then! I need to get back to my date!”

Gunter left them alone and Kick and Kendall smiled at each other. Kick held out his hand and Kendall took it.

“May I have this dance, Miss Perkins?” he asked with a wink.

“Only if you can keep up, Clarence,” Kendall said going red.

The two walked to the dance floor as the DJ began to play an upbeat pop song.

************************************************

Kendall’s heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to burst.

Dancing with Kick had been…exhilarating and reminded her of the first time they had danced together. People had actually stopped dancing to watch them and eventually, the whole crowd was cheering them on. When they had finished, the crowd cheered and even a few teachers congratulated them.

Suddenly she felt warm…too warm and exited the hall needing cool fresh air. Kendall embraced the gentle breeze once she was outside and took a seat on one of the bleachers. It was quiet and the sounds of crickets were heard. She sighed happily and looked at the stars.

“Could this night be any more perfect?” she murmured as she marveled at the night sky.

“Well, if you’d go back inside it would be, since the whole dance was a success,” came a voice that sent shivers down her spine.

“Kick!” Kendall exclaimed and she turned around to face him.

He was holding two cups of soda and gave her one.

“I saw you leave and I got worried. Thought I might’ve spun you around too much,” he chuckled and Kendall drank her soda thirstily.

“Thanks I definitely needed that,” the blonde nodded in relief as she felt her body temperature cool down.

Kick sat down with her in silence and they looked at the stars.

“Kick…thank you,” Kendall said softly and the daredevil looked at her in surprise.

“For what?”

“This is hands down the best dance I’ve ever had part of putting together. Without your encouragement, I don’t think it would’ve been this amazing. I…I know I’m not an easy person to work with. I lose my temper easily sometimes and I’m known to be bossy…but, but thank you for putting up with me. The dance is usually stressful but you managed to calm me down and take some of the load off. Heck, you saved the decorations last minute and stopped Jackie! I really can’t thank you enough.”

Kick’s jaw dropped.

“Gee…um…thanks Kendall…that means a lot coming from you.”

“It does? What happened to ‘I’m a daredevil and I don’t care about other opinions of me’ attitude?” Kendall asked and she saw a spark in his eyes as he smiled.

“You really aren’t the easiest person to work with but heck, you get things done to the best of your abilities. You’re a good role model, Kendall Perkins and I’m glad I got to work with you.”

Kendall was blushing furiously and she knew Kick could see it since they were sitting under a light.

“I really don’t know what to say…” Kendall giggled. “We’re just going to keep complimenting each other. There has to be a breaking point.”

Kick turned to face her and placed a hand on hers and she felt her heart stop.

“There is a breaking point but I’m sorta…scared to cross it…” he said looking directly at her in her eyes and Kendall’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“We…could cross it together?” Kendall asked and gave him a small smile.

“Deal,” he grinned.

They leaned in and shared their first kiss and Kendall Perkins knew that she would never forget the best dance ever.

#kick buttowski #kendall perkins #kick x kendall #kick buttowski: suburban daredevil #fluff #vanilla107 writes #vanilla107writes

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frankiefellinlove · 6 years

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June 18, 2011 RIP Clarence

January 11, 1942- June 18, 2011

Bruce’s Eulogy For Clarence

I’ve been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It’s a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I’m pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways.

Those of us who shared Clarence’s life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C’s qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence’s unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A… B…. C…. D. It was always A… J…. C…. Z… Q… I….! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly.

It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you’ve been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C’s" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence’s heart, in the Temple of Soul.

So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we’d pull up to the evenings lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic night, after night. Clarence’s ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he’d had a good run, because he’d already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C’s suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man’s world. I’d wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple’s wonders was a lovely thing.

As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man… no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And… to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy’s eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So… Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence’s suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad’s van and opted for "C’s" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn’t do, and he’d saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul.

Of course, also enchanted was Sam’s dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other’s protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn’t so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence’s celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn’t always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I’d written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that… that’s what I’m gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together… the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that’s just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it… it’s the New World.

Clarence doesn’t leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die.

So, I’ll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell… and that he gave to you… is gonna carry on. I’m no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god’s work… work that’s still unfinished. So I won’t say goodbye to my brother, I’ll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done.

Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle… and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul.

SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN… ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE’S DEAD… YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN’T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU’VE EVER SEEN!... GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT’S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! … amen.

I’m gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we’d shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big."

Love you, "C".

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ciceroisthefamilycat · 3 years

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My Fiery Heart reread response (my Indigo Spell one here, my first-time Fiery Heart one here from 7.5 years ago)

before I get into it, I remembered looking up the Iolanthe coven name Sydney used; that wasn’t something I looked up until after reading it the first time though, so I didn’t realize the fairy court connection to Sydney recommending Zoe do her literature assignment on Midsummer Night’s Dream... I’m very certain it was an intentional reference to that opera now (even though the purple flower meaning was enough on its own)... if they get around to adapting this one, I half want to see Amberwood Prep put on a production of MND where Jill is helping with the costumes and Zoe gets to play Titania or something; I never got around to reading Richard III (Zoe’s original pick) but it’s interesting that free will/fatalism is apparently a major theme, and that Richard contrived to have his brother Clarence sent to the Tower of London...

also, I’m not sure if I cared about “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane all those years ago, but I got a thrill seeing it referenced this go around.

we get the first namedrop for Cicero (though we had heard about his propensity for killing birds and some other mention in the earlier BL books ETA, 7/19: “My family had a cat back in Utah that I was pretty sure was more responsible than Angeline” pg 31 TGL

Anyway, gosh Sydney makes bad decisions in this one. And it’s not because she has too much to do- she has no real outside strenuous challenges to protecting Jill or her group this go around. The friend group actually had to decide “yeah let’s go hunt down a Strigoi in LA” for there to be a major action scene. I realize she’s in her late teens and the burdens put on her are unfair, but she’s a great example of someone who thrives under pressure and falls apart when she’s given too much free time.

The switch to dual narrators was unnecessary. It wasn’t bad, but it was clearly only to set up for the big cliffhanger at the end, and so feels a bit pointless in this one. Btw, Rose didn’t lose her spirit link into Lissa’s mind after Lissa went on antidepressants. Now admittedly, the chemicals in Adrian’s mood stabilizers would have probably worked differently, or maybe Richelle was trying to retroactively make things more consistent (since alcohol could affect the bond), or maybe it was “Adrian and Jill’s bond is less established, so Jill can’t break through like Rose could”... but the sudden decision mid book (with no repercussions- Adrian doesn’t even bring it up to Sydney to be like “hey, one of your main concerns about having sex is taken care of”) is so pointless and really goes to the minimal page-time of the larger ensemble. I said it the first time I read the book, the absence of Kristin and Julia, and Micah, and even more important characters like Angeline or Trey is so frustrating. I realize Richelle couldn’t write a book that was 900 pages long, but I would have gladly taken any of those characters instead of the completely unnecessary Terwilliger/Malachi romance. Especially to see Jill’s reaction to getting to be a more typical high school human, since I think she would have gotten even more attached to Amberwood than Sydney did. I also just... really, the Alchemists decided to have Sydney’s bio sister on campus... pretending to be a cousin... while she was playing sister to Jill? I get they kind of backed themselves into a corner, but weird. That being said, I was happy to have Rowena and Cassie around. (give me Adrian and Rowena being wlw besties excellence to make me really happy)

Sydney’s coven initiation taking place in chapter 2, then she meets Inez (who gives her the books on charms)... and we never see a witch other than Jackie again in this book? Honestly, why bother with writing the initiation at that rate? I still like the cloak they made Sydney though. On reread, there’s the randomest bit where Trey’s like “is Neil even really British” and I wonder if that was a dropped storyline where Neil was faking. Olive and Nina are still pleasant characters, and I liked that they had a “unique” background, but knowing how those stories end was kind of a buzzkill on reread. Olive, especially, deserved better.

This is another one where I forgot quite a few events- Adrian getting drunk and the pawnshop (I think I remembered that obliquely, but not so much on it), or the trip to Texas (which actually came before the pawnshop but oh well). I was happy to finally get some actual Christian content again, although I regret we didn’t get more from Sydney & Rose or more Sydney & Lissa. On Adrian’s mental health storyline... I am less impressed by it than I was the first time (though I didn’t remember being super-impressed, but according to my first review?). I do actually like Adrian being insistent, once he’s started taking meds, that he’s going to continue, but the diagnosis of bipolar disorder doesn’t actually feel like it fits? I will say, I find Adrian’s “chicken or egg” pondering over whether spirit causes mental illness or mental illness means a predisposition to specializing in spirit is fascinating (though it’s probably for the best Richelle never actually answered it).

The way Adrian spoke (or thought) about Zoe really pissed me off. Like, one, you’re an adult, stop antagonizing the sister of the girl you like and just be cordial (which is less suspicious than suddenly acting like you and Sydney don’t get along at all), and two... Adrian’s super protective over Sydney after realizing the emotional abuse Jared heaped on, but somehow doesn’t realize that this fifteen year old has been spending time with said father’s attention solely focused on her for ages now, and he has no sympathy for her? Instead of seeing Zoe being like “Sydney shouldn’t have to provide for you all the time” and being like “aww, that’s a nice protective sister instinct even if she needs an attitude adjustment” he taunts a 15 year old about drinking from her the way he did to 20-something actual-predator Keith. He could have engaged yet another Sage sister in talking about his awesome car on the drive over, or at least made other good faith efforts.

The dabbling stuff made me more uncomfortable this time around (I think). Especially Sydney comparing her getting Keith’s eye ripped out to Adrian’s assault of a human girl... that was some real false equivalency on Richelle’s part. But other parts of it, like “oh here comes Adrian to save the day and at least he’s changed from these guys he used to hang out with (oh, look at that convenient statement that even back in the day Adrian wasn’t on the same level of bad as them)” was really frustrating, or the fact that Adrian was very deliberately withholding information from her in his own chapters and it made me question his trustworthiness in her chapters. Or the “oh, hey, he made the concession of getting treatment for his mental illness, so all is forgiven” handwaving. Like, Richelle brought this in to be an obstacle to their relationship, but it’s addressed so quickly (with maybe a pittance effort of later being like “oh, at least Adrian didn’t take advantage when Sydney accidentally absorbed some Moroi endorphins- he learned his lessons!) that it doesn’t merit the actual consideration of so important a topic Idk. I do feel like I enjoy the Sydrian relationship more in this book than the others, but I also have some huge issues with it.

Adaptation-wise, I think genderbent Adrian would definitely mean a change to the dabbling storyline (yes, women can be sexual predators, but I don’t think this storyline would be maintained with different social expectations). Honestly, give me an Adrian who, instead of having victimized someone, doesn’t immediately fully grasp how upsetting this idea of vampires preying on her species (and risking exposure) is to Sydney... Adrian being like “it isn’t sexual, those guys would never consider sleeping with a human” but the consent even to give blood still being critical to Sydney. And you know what? Let Lissa “compelled a guy to almost hit himself over the head with a baseball bat for molesting a Feeder” Dragomir have a spirit freak out moment of rage and go off on these subjects of hers the way that was deserved (and then once she cools down, maybe she can’t punish them fully, but she uses it to leverage their royal families’ agreement to the Family Rule amendment). And just finish that law by the end of the season, so that when the Alchemists pull out Sydney and Zoe, they’re actually closing down the whole Palm Springs operation in a rage. (if I remember correctly Alicia kidnapped Jill between books 5 and 6, but that was a stupid plotline imo- let Sydney and her coven take care of Alicia in the downtime of this book instead) Let Rose figure out that Sydney and Adrian are in love- she’s smart and she would pick up on that; let her celebrate them and encourage them to be happy together. Also the “Sydney and Adrian get three days at an inn to sex it all up” was stupid... like I’m happy for them but am I really supposed to buy that they could afford all that time away from Palm Springs?

As bad as I feel for Syd, and Adrian, and Eddie, and Jill, and Jackie at the end of TFH, I do remember that I’m going to feel worst for Hopper. I’m sorry that demon dragon Calistana has my heart and I remember one scene from Silver Shadows featuring the little guy prominently...

#I'm a VA girl

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sayofchains88 · 3 years

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Chapter five: The end of Samuel, the Crystal dawn awaits...by OrangeLetters88~

The morning is silent for Alex. The last couple days he decided to be quiet instead start a fight. He can feel all the tools given at his disposal. He knows Christian needs to come so he chooses to be quiet.

Soon are the star events between the neighborhood of humans and vampires are held at Samuel's large compound. Samuel has tied Sadie in the middle of the grounds as the main prize. Her slave cure is placed all over her body. She is blindfolded with her hands behind her back roped up between beams.

Alex was cleaning at the time when Sadie was brought back to the mansion crying, kicking and screaming Christians name. He looks over his shoulder realizing something happened to him. Worried he was trying to not show any sort of emotion.

In the dungeon he looks down after taking his blindfold off himself to touch his face with his open hand rubbing his eyes. He feels completely drained. He feels guilty from not properly to Christian now Sadie.

He recalls visions where Sadie is supposed to lead him, but he changed the series of events by simply killing Christian's spirit. He sighs deeply to himself. "I am slime...I am really bad at this it seems..."

Samuel comes by appalled seeing Alex without his blindfold. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?" He shrieks.

"What the fuck I want..."

"Do you forget I have this?" Samuel smirks. Activating the tag, having him lean forward in pain, but not show signs of being affected. "You know we have Christians book and sword. You know we have a elemental solider awakened here too?"

"You already fucked over my kin. Don't be sporting anything else! You got me..." Alex shouts yanking the chain till it is pulled taut.

"This would be seventh day you get no blood. You already look weak yet you look to anger me."

"Your days are totaled if you don't watch your back!" Alex growls making cat stance.

"A chained cat should stay in place!" Samuel scolds activating the seal. Alex pulls his chain out of the wall passing out before making it to the cell doors. "Pathetic..."

Samuel stands still a moment having his nurses come over. "Tie him up with the woman. He can be a prize...I am sick of him..."

He comes around dizzily on the ground outside with Sadie chained in an uncomfortable position. He can't seem to say anything. That's when he notices his vocal cords had been casted a mute spell so he can't cry out.

Christian enters Samuel's domain with Steel since he doesn't have his book. His fairy combined sword follow behind him dressed in regular clothes. In front of the entrance is all the bets of human, witches, and vampires enslaved in front.

Christian can see Alex and Sadie. He feels faint seeing this sick display of life. Sadie's sisters are playing their respective instruments for passerby's. "Steel...I don't feel good..." Christian says while the scene makes his head swirl.

"Master, it's because my body is near. She beckons for your body." She responds softly. "I will be whole soon..."

Christian takes note that the doors are all blocked off. His eye shines brightly. "If I don't find a way in...then all these people are doomed..."

"Take it easy Christian. We have a lot of time to make it right." Steel explains whispering.

The gates start to flood with people making bets, the whole scene is loud. Steel makes her way to a guard. "So you must be bored, would you care to give me a small bit of your time to eat together?"

At first he doesn't give what she said any thought. "Are you talking to me?" He asks blushing. She flips her hair giving him bedroom eyes.

"I mean who else am I talking too? Is your friend interested in me perhaps?" She says walking over to him. The man touches her shoulder.

"Maybe I was being a bit harsh. I just normally have someone less attractive calling me..." He replies thinking about his girlfriend. She takes his arm walking away. The other men see him from the far corners jealous.

"Well handsome, I am about to show you a good time." Steel snickers. Christian sneaks inside with Ava-Ria.

"Oldest trick in the book...Jesus..." Christian laughs to Ava-Ria. He gets inside looking through empty rooms and corridors.

Ava-Ria and Christian split up. The place is huge. They search every single nook and cranny, when they meet up again they shrug to each other. They see a shadow in the hallway. Christian covers her mouth to stay quiet.

"I knew you would try to play this." Samuel said opening the door holding his bound sword and book in his hands. Christian started to get a headache from looking at bound writing.

He kneels in Ava-Ria's arms. "Those are mine Sam..uel..." She disappears when he collapses. He is in a cell with Steel. She has been beat till her clothes have been torn almost off completely; they cut her hair out of humiliation.

"You are so scared of me. Just admit it!" Christian leans back as he starts to lose focus. Ava-Ria comes out of him, but she cannot psychically touch anything now, but Christian.

"Now love...please you have to conserve your energy...." Ava-Ria assures him. Samuel laughs watching him wither. When he walks away she tries to touch Steel, but fails. "The sword and book is put not far, but I cannot retrieve it my love."

Steel wakes up hearing Ava-Ria, Christians head is rolling side to side with his eyes closed. Both his hands are bound; Steel has one hand free before she realizes where she is. "Ava-Ria what's going on with Christian, why are you translucent."

"We shouldn't be by the binding spells on the paper. In a couple days I will fade and Christian will be no more." Ava-Ria replies cradling his face with her hands. "They purposely put it near so we would feel the effect, if it was far we could still be okay a little longer."

Someone sticks their hands out to them. "Heard you both need help."

"Clarence! When did you get in?" Steel shouts. He shows his book to her.

"I had forgotten that I had a book and could have just waltzed in. I was worried about you Darling." Clarence states fully showing himself with Alex hanging his shoulder. "Vepar made a false image so I could untie him...I just don't know how much longer it will last..."

"Sir we need that book and sword over there! Christian is fading fast!" Ava-Ria replies smashing the chains on Steel and Christian out of anger. Ava-Ria lays Christian on her lap. Steel takes the sword and book from Clarence.

Ava-Ria lays the swords pommel curling his hands around it. "I hope we aren't too late...I am so sorry Master..."

Steel rips the cursed scripts off the hilt and the ones on the book. Ava-Ria blushes forgetting out of desperation. Ava-Ria caresses his forehead waiting for him to wake.

A wild woman with a sword starts to swing wild at Clarence with a violent speed. Clarence dodges each swing eventually laying Alex against the hidden wall so he has room to grab his key.

"I was watching you the whole time. I knew you were suspect, but even more I know now you are an apostle of traitorous queen!" She howls heavily swinging her blade around.

"Master swordsman of earth will be revived if we don't retrieve it!" the spirit says extending his/her appendage through the bars taking the sword from Christian and Ava-Ria.

"Thank goodness, now Samuel won't chide us at least. Quick thinking Ruby-Leo!" She congratulates him/her.

Christians breathing becomes slower. Ava-Ria starts to fade in and out more. Clarence presses the amulet in the middle of the key. The ground shakes destroying the floorboard from under beneath them. "Hey! What the fuck are you doing?" The woman cries, Ruby-Leo drops the sword.

"Daggers?" Clarence asks taking them. The key talks around his neck.

"Weapons are only used in her court of majesty to deflect or stop unbelievers. You will be able to challenge her now."

"Are you joking me?" Clarence replies bothered. He jumps over the crack in the floor to push his daggers into her sword. How to use it seems to be fed into his movements, she swings hard activating its fire power.

Her eyes glow with fire fractals. Clarence touches the building starts to burn from the inside; Alex awakes groggily to the smell of fire pushes himself up summoning Vepar's tail to unhinge the cell door.

With Christian on his back he takes Steel's hand. They leap over the hole in the floor. "Alex are you okay?" Steel asks. Alex only nods up and down. She is slightly confused why he isn't speaking. Alex fist bumps Clarence on his way out, he just smiles back.

Steel spots the sword behind the fire sword toting woman. She kicks the heels of her boots causing her trip so she can take the sword. She darts to catch up with Alex. "Hey! I got the sword!"

Alex not being able to speak points behind her, Ava-Ria forms behind solid as she can project herself to bump Steel to the ground to dodge Ruby-Leo's attack. She looks away smiling before disappearing.

Steel slides over to Alex who sitting behind the house walking with the sword, she places the pommel in Christian's hand. His pulse fading, Alex looks down sad.

Steel looks up Alex. "You can't speak can you?" She asks. Alex nods no. He looks at her miserably. Staring down at Christian whose life signs are fading. Clarence comes out with the woman over his shoulder.

The blade starts to react pulsating as if it has its own heart. It's light retreats back into the sword; Christian's eyes open. Alex bows down crying on his chest; Christian pushes Alex back with his hands to null the curses inflicted on him.

From his lap he pushes firmly against his neck. He doesn't need to chant the words scramble to the air. "Christian..." Alex mutters feeling the curse flow from him like chains weighing him down.

"You will always be my master. It is my turn to save you..." Christian replies getting up. Using the sword to lift him off the ground, Ava-Ria appears.

The house continues to burn. Samuel gets in front of Christian trying to make his way with his hands out stretched. "You expect you can just leave?"

"Me leave?" Christian replies snidely dragging his sword against the concrete. "I am simply staying put...but first it's payback time." He responds sluggishly lifting the heavy sword over his head thrusting it into Samuel's chest.

His heartless expression can be seen as Samuel shockingly walks backward falling over; roses and vines climb through his body slowly turning him to dust. "The crystal queen sends her regards..."

He takes the sword when it collapses into the ashes.

He slowly walks to the center where everyone is crowding. Clarence follows behind watching Christian drag the sword creating a tension with its metal hissing against the concrete. He firstly climbs up the beam to retrieve Sadie cutting her down.

Grabbing her activates the seal causing him shriek in pain, causing her to scream out. Christian decides to fight the pain by kissing her distract her and himself so he can activate the nullification.

She continues to kiss Christian when the curse is once again free from her. Standing above them is her two sisters standing above them. "So Sadie when were you going to introduce us to your boyfriend?" The young lady in purple laughs, the sister in ruby red help Christian sit up as he touches their hands withdrawing the spells.

Sadie has Christian drape his hand around her shoulder; he nudges the sword back into its hilt. He tends to more people who were inflicted by the slave curse. The woman who is deemed the sword saint of fire awakens by Steel and Clarence. "He is gone isn't he?" She asks with regret.

"Yes...but you should be using your abilities for the Crystal Queen not destruction. We all have to live together. Won't you join us?" Clarence responds.

"You need to do one more thing then...the little princess of sapphire was set to be killed soon under Samuel's men..."

"She is awakened?" Steel shouts.

"Of course, but not the entire apostle are awake, nor are sword saints of water and air. We don't know who they are. There are many more evils that will make themselves aware way before sapphire queen is born." She explains.

Alex makes his way over to everyone else. "We have a problem Alex. We need to retrieve the princess..." Clarence states.

"What a day..." He replies with a smile.

https://www.wattpad.com/1076509477-chronicles-of-alex-fighting-against-eternity Please support my works if you like them please >> Wattpad originals

#original story #original character #vampire #drama #fantasy #sadness

0 notes

thursdays-fallen-angel · 7 years

Text

A birthday gift for @hily-shot, who put the idea of a secret admirer fic in my head forever ago, even if she probably doesn’t remember it now. Happy birthday, my smol friend. <3

(destiel, punk!Cas and jock!Dean, hs!au, 3k)

AO3

For the third day in a row, there’s a sticky note on Castiel’s locker. It’s innocuous in and of itself, but also bright pink and impossible to miss what with the way the color contrasts with the dull, grey lockers. Castiel sees it long before he reaches it, the sight both making his blood boil and sending butterflies bursting through his stomach.

He hates it.

He snatches the note off of the locker’s metal surface as quickly as he can, knowing Meg isn’t far behind him and not wanting her to see. He shields the small paper with his palms while he reads it.

Cas—

Your hair looks good today. It looks soft. I want to run my fingers through it.

Castiel rolls his eyes, even as his cheeks burn with a blush. He can’t decide if this one is better or worse than the last; it certainly isn’t as embarrassing as the first had been. But that doesn’t mean he wants anyone to know about them—he opens his locker and shoves the note into the back, stashing it behind a never-used chemistry textbook with the previous notes. He doesn’t want to see them, doesn’t want to acknowledge their existence.

He’s not sure which of his ‘friends’ is behind the stupid prank, but he’s taken a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ stance for the time being, and hates them all for it equally. He knows it’s not Meg—she’s sweet on him, she wouldn’t mess with him in this way—but it could very well be Balthazar, or Raphael, or Bart, or Uriel, or even some combination of those dicks working together. He wouldn’t be surprised.

After all, it’s not like anyone would seriously leave these kinds of messages for him (no matter how endearing the sentiment might be, or how his stomach still twists like it is real, despite his belief of the opposite). Castiel isn’t the only ‘punk’ in the school, the only one with tattoos and piercings and a unique ability to make teachers hate him—his ‘friends’ also tend to fall in that category, to various degrees, which is the only reason Castiel aligns himself with them in the first place. He is, however, the only one who’s gay. He’s not the token in the school, but he’s the token in his own clique, and that’s what brings the hellfire down on him. His friends aren’t homophobic, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to harass him.

But no one on the outside of their group would ever take an interest in him, and certainly no one would have such nice things to say about him.

Castiel pulls his books for English out of his locker with jerky movements, rushed, thanks to the kinetic nervousness making itself at home in his gut. He doesn’t notice Meg coming up behind him, and he startles when she suddenly speaks, dropping his copy of Slaughterhouse-Five with a dull thump.

“You alright there, angel-face? Lookin’ a little… stressed.”

Castiel whips his head up to glare at her, a thunderous expression which only serves to earn him a raised eyebrow. He drops to pick up his book and shoves it into his bag. “It’s nothing,” he bites out, “don’t worry about it.”

“…Right.” Meg shifts to lean against the wall of lockers beside him, her hip popped out and arms folded. “So other than the fact that that’s total bullshit, should I be concerned?”

“No.” Castiel slams his locker shut, and turns on his heel, away from Meg. She makes an offended sound, but not even that stops him from storming off toward his first class.

If he doesn’t talk about it, he can go on pretending it isn’t happening. And, most importantly, he can go on pretending he doesn’t wish it was real.

The following morning, Meg is already standing beside Castiel’s locker when he arrives. He doesn’t think twice about it at first, but as he approaches, she grins and holds out her index finger. There’s a bright pink sticky note stuck to it.

Castiel’s stomach drops.

“Looks like you got a fan, Clarence,” she coos, the sweetness in her voice at-odds with her wicked grin. She holds the note out to him and recites it from memory, adopting a dreamy, love-struck tone. Even from a few feet away, he can read the neat, blocky letters that line up with what she says. “Cas, your smile lights up a room. You should do it more.” She glances slyly at Castiel. “Looks like you’ve been keeping secrets. Who’s the lucky lady?”

Castiel rips the sticky note away from her and, once he’s managed to quell his shaking hands long enough to get his locker open, shoves it in the back to join the growing collection of notes there. His cheeks burn and Meg’s amusement isn’t helping anything. He tries to ignore her. He wants to pretend she doesn't exist. He wants to pretend he doesn't exist, for god’s sake. He doesn't want any of this to be happening.

Meg’s continued teasing doesn't make his pretending easy. She's too skilled at reading him for her own good.

“Oh, dear,” she says, tone sweeping and dramatic, with no little amount of amusement, “you don't even know, do you, angel cake. A secret admirer—and here I was thinking I'd seen all of the best cliches. Gotta say, whoever this kid is, they're good. They must be pretty damn crazy about you, if they're leaving you stuff that tooth-rotting.”

Castiel slams his locker closed with a scowl. He thought his stomach was in knots before—it's only getting worse the longer Meg goes on. He doesn’t know what to do with the thought of anyone being crazy about him. Him, Castiel Novak. He considers himself lucky to have people he can call friends, what could he possibly have done to be worthy of potential romantic interest?

“Maybe this’ll be that chance you’ve been waiting for to finally get laid, huh?” Meg adds, and the last of Castiel’s resilience crumbles away to nothing. He doesn’t want to deal with this shit any more.

Fuck it. Who needs class, anyway?

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he growls, pointedly ignoring her smug grin as he turns away. He shoves past some meathead in a varsity jacket who was standing much too close to his locker, and beelines toward the exit. He doesn't give a damn who it was, and he pays them no attention. After that, everyone sees him coming and steers clear, parting before him like the Red Sea.

He doesn't look back to see the varsity jacket boy staring after him in mute shock.

He wouldn’t care, anyway. He’s just anxious to get home.

His locker is note-less the next morning. After the scuffle he had with Meg over it—a scuffle which was later continued over text, much to Castiel’s chagrin—he's grateful for the reprieve. He can tell that she still wants to make a comment when the two of them reach the blank metal door of his locker, can see the wicked glint in her eyes, but he silences her with a glare, and for once, it has the desired effect.

He resolutely tells himself that he’s not disappointed that his so-called ‘secret admirer’ looks to have been scared away—he’s just surprised, is all. A note-leaving pattern of close to two weeks has been broken. That’s all it is. Even if this is Raphael or someone, it’s odd. Obviously. There’s no other emotions, there.

God, he’s like a prepubescent girl.

He listens with half an ear while Meg talks his head off about some incident with Luc, her on-again-off-again boyfriend from the other side of town, and keeps his answers to monosyllabic grunts. His lack of enthusiasm doesn't deter her, and she continues on well through their shared first period. His second hour is a blessing of silence, as is his third, but there's a trickle of tension in his gut that inspires him to keep to himself even more than usual. Through all of his classes, he keeps a book propped open on his lap beneath his desk, and reads to escape his thoughts.

It works well, until he gets to English.

“Vonnegut, huh?” a voice to his left says, and Castiel startles so hard that the book falls closed in his lap. He’s sure he can find his place again, but logic isn’t enough to quell his burst of irritation as he turns a glare up at the speaker.

Said speaker turns out to be a boy Castiel is vaguely familiar with. Or--okay, very familiar with. Everyone in the school knows the captain of the wrestling team/varsity tight end on the football team/ASB vice president, Dean Winchester. And alright, maybe Castiel has, well, taken note of him in the past. Several times. Often. Maybe he’s caught himself staring a few times.

So he knows exactly who Dean Winchester is. Who doesn’t?

But whether he knows of him or not, this is definitely a first. They’ve never spoken, Dean and Castiel. Jock and punk don’t exactly mix well, at least in the eyes of the broader social sphere of a high school. He can’t quite understand why it’s happening now—which is why his surprise is quickly hidden behind a mask of disgruntlement.

“Vonnegut,” he confirms a beat later, eyes narrowed slightly. He doesn’t know what to do here; does he go on the defensive, or assume that Dean’s comment is good-natured? He hedges neutrally, “You’re… familiar with his works?”

For all of Castiel’s paranoia, however, Dean just seems genuinely enthusiastic about his choice in novel. His eyes (so very green; Castiel rarely allows himself the opportunity to look at them, not eager to be caught staring) are bright with excitement. “Hell yeah, I know his works! My favorite is Cat’s Cradle, but Slaughterhouse-Five is a damn close second. I’ve got a copy at home that I’ve read, like, a dozen times.”

Castiel blinks. Dean Winchester, a reader? And of pulpy sci-fi at that. Sure, they share an AP English class, but he’d always assumed…

Well. He’s not quite sure what he assumed, actually. Maybe he should feel guilty for that.

He wets his lips and searches for something to say in return. He comes up woefully short, but eventually settles on, “I’m not a huge fan of Cat’s Cradle. The ending was too bizarre for me.”

Dean laughs, loud and bright. It makes Castiel’s heart swell. “It's not for everyone,” he concedes. There's a moment of hesitation, then, and though Dean’s good mood remains in place, he starts to look a bit nervous.

When Castiel raises a pierced eyebrow, Dean’s nervousness takes on a degree of embarrassment. He bites his lower lip, and the sight definitely should not hold the entirety of Castiel’s attention like it does. He's so distracted that he nearly misses it when Dean eventually speaks.

“You weren't in class yesterday.”

“I was sick.” The lie falls from Castiel’s tongue without a second thought. It's only once he's spoken that he recognizes the implication that Dean noticed his absence. His cheeks warm. “I—”

“Do you want the notes?” Dean asks. He's already flipping back a few pages in his notebook, and rambling on as if his lines were already prepared long before Castiel even gave his answer. “I can take pictures of what I have and text them to you, if you want? Or, I mean, you can take pictures yourself, but sometimes I'm not always clear with what I write, so I could explain things, and we talked about the next project we’re doing, so—”

“Mr. Winchester,” a voice calls from the front of the room, and Dean immediately falls silent. His eyes, unfortunately, leave Castiel as he turns to the front of the room, looking cowed. Castiel would know; he can't tear his eyes away.

Mrs. Mills continues sternly, “If you and Mr. Novak can't behave yourselves and stop chatting, I will be forced to both separate you, and discipline you. This is supposed to be a quiet work time. So help me god, Dean, I will make you run lines at practice today if I have to.”

Castiel wonders if Mrs. Mills targeted Dean instead of himself because she's his coach (for which sport, he hasn't the slightest idea) or because he was clearly the instigator, but regardless, he's oddly glad for it. Dean’s blush is a beautiful sight to behold. He doesn't mind getting yelled at by his teachers, but lord, this is so much better.

“And Mr. Novak.”

Damnit.

He finally turns his attention forward, frowning to let his teacher know just how displeased he is with the development.

She isn't fazed. She never is. It's admirable, really.

“I have a task for you. Come up here, please?”

Castiel represses an eyeroll, but goes obediently to the front of the room. The ‘task’ turns out to be a trip to the library to pick up a copy of their new assigned reading book. It’s a bit obnoxious, having to go all the way across the school, but he does need the book, so he shuts his mouth and goes.

When he returns to class twenty minutes later, there’s a pink sticky note protruding from between the pages, and Dean is gone. The sight of it shocks Castiel to his core. He pointedly ignores the way his hands tremble when he reaches for the book, and flips it open to the marked page. His eyes go to the note, first.

Cas—

I should’ve worked up the courage to talk to you a long time ago.

It’s okay if you’re not interested in me. I get it. But just know… everything I said in the notes is true.

Castiel can’t breathe. His gaze slides to the illustration on the opposite page, and his heart clenches.

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.

The following morning, he stakes out early.

It takes some careful maneuvering, admittedly—he has to make sure Meg is occupied, so that she can't blow his cover, and he has to actually beg Gabriel to drive him to school earlier than usual, since his elder brother is typically half-asleep at their normal time. But in the end, Castiel manages to pull it all off. And that’s how, at seven o’clock in the morning, Castiel finds himself the only student in the hallways, lurking in an alcove and mostly-hidden behind a bank of lockers, just down the way from his own.

At this hour, the school is almost unnaturally silent. It gives him too much space to think, to ruminate over what an idiot he’s probably being, because there’s still a good chance he’s being pranked—but it also gives him time to think about how this might possibly go down, and, more importantly, it gives him the ability to hear every set of footsteps that approaches.

He really, really hopes he understands what’s happening here, correctly.

For the first fifteen minutes of his stakeout, not much happens. A few teachers walk past him in either direction, but aside from one exchanged, “Good morning,” with Castiel’s AP Bio teacher, none of them pay him any mind. A number of students start to filter through, as well, but there’s still not much going on.

Until a telltale varsity jacket hurries past his hiding place.

Castiel’s heart just about stops in his chest, but thankfully, he isn’t seen. He holds his breath for a few seconds, remaining as still and silent as he can, and then carefully turns and peers around the edge of the lockers beside him to spy down the hallway.

Even through the heavy fabric of his jacket, the set of Dean’s shoulders looks nervous. He glances left, then right, then slides his backpack off of his shoulder and reaches into the outermost pocket. When he draws out a stack of pink sticky notes and a pen, peeling one off and starting to scribble a message across it, Castiel pushes off of the wall he’s been waiting against and closes the distance between them with silent feet.

When he reaches him, Castiel grabs Dean’s shoulder and flips him around, then boxes him in against the lockers with his arms. They’re so close that Castiel can taste Dean’s surprised exhalation, can hear the almost-whimper that he clearly tries to stifle.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, and Dean just makes that sound again.

“I…” The other boy—the most perfect boy in the entire school, probably in the entire world, if Castiel is being honest—seems at a loss for words. He swallows audibly, his eyes wide as they sweep across Castiel’s face. “I told you yesterday that I mean it, I don't know—”

“You said,” Castiel interrupts, “that it's okay if I'm not interested in you. Was that to say that you are interested in me?”

Dean’s face is bright red with embarrassment. It takes him a moment, but he nods.

Castiel’s stomach swoops in a way it never has before. A part of him wants to ask why, wants to figure out how, not just anyone, but Dean Winchester could have feelings for him—but the larger part of him is tired of drawing this out. He presses closer to the boy, and is thrilled when he doesn't so much as lean away.

“You're right,” Castiel says, “you should have talked to me sooner.”

He seals his lips against Dean’s, then, kissing him before he can talk himself out of it. Dean’s lips are soft and plush, and he eagerly kisses back, once he gets with the program.

“Fuck yeah, I should’ve,” Dean breathes when they part. He cards his fingers through Castiel’s hair, but only seems to recognize the significance of the action after he's done it. He looks overjoyed, then pushes both of his hands into Castiel’s locks, purely because he can. “Jesus Christ, I knew it’d be soft.”

Castiel can't help but laugh. “Keep saying nice things to me, and I'll let you touch it whenever you want.”

Dean’s eyes somehow light up even more at that. “How about this Friday? Can I touch it then, maybe after some burgers and a movie?”

It's a bit rash, but Castiel is helpless but to kiss him again. He needs to remind himself that this is really happening, and it's far more effective than a pinch to the arm would have been. When he pulls back a few moments later to give them both the chance to breathe, he grins. “Friday sounds great to me.”

The notes continue after they start dating, of course. They’re not always daily, but Castiel still finds them often enough, and the sight never fails to fill him with happiness. Only now, he doesn’t hide them in a crumpled pile at the back of his locker. No, the notes from Dean, so precious and loved, have a special place at home, tucked neatly away in his desk drawer.

Cas—

You're gorgeous when you talk about your passions. You shouldn't hide them as much as you do.

Cas—

You’re kinder than you let on. You’re better than you think you are.

Cas—

You outshine everyone here.

Cas—

I wish you could see how incredible you are.

Cas—

I love you.

Castiel considers himself to be very fortunate in his life. And he always makes sure to express the same sappy sentiments in return—only, he always says it to his boyfriend’s face.

Dean’s blush always makes it worth it.

#you're welcome in advance Emma #this is one of my finest works #destiel #destiel ficlet #punk!cas #jock!dean #secret admirer!au #hs!au #makenna's writing

941 notes · View notes

7r0773r · 4 years

Text

Vice: New and Selected Poems by Ai

ABORTION

Coming home, I find you still in bed, but when I pull back the blanket, I see your stomach is flat as an iron. You’ve done it, as you warned me you would and left the fetus wrapped in wax paper for me to look at. My son. Woman, loving you no matter what you do, what can I say, except that I’ve heard the poor have no children, just small people and there is room only for one man in this house. (from Cruelty, p. 4)

***

THE COCKFIGHTER’S DAUGHTER

I found my father, face down, in his homemade chili and had to hit the bowl with a hammer to get it off, then scrape the pinto beans and chunks of ground beef off his face with a knife. Once he was clean I called the police, described the dirt road that snaked from the highway to his trailer beside the river. The rooster was in the bedroom, tied to a table leg. Nearby stood a tin of cloudy water and a few seeds scattered on a piece of wax paper, the cheap green carpet stained by gobs of darker green shit. I was careful not to get too close, because, though his beak was tied shut, he could still jump for me and claw me as he had my father. The scars ran down his arms to a hole where the rooster had torn the flesh and run with it, finally spitting it out. When the old man stopped the bleeding, the rooster was waiting on top of the pickup, his red eyes like Pentecostal flames. That’s when Father named him Preacher. He lured him down with a hen he kept penned in a coop, fortified with the kind of grille you find in those New York taxicabs. It had slots for food and water and a trap door on top, so he could reach in and pull her out by the neck. One morning he found her stiff and glassy-eyed and stood watching as the rooster attacked her carcass until she was ripped to bits of bloody flesh and feather. I cursed and screamed, but he told me to shut up, stay inside, what did a girl know about it? Then he looked at me with desire and disdain. Later he loaded the truck and left. I was sixteen and I had a mean streak, carried a knife and wore such tight jeans I could hardly walk. They all talked about me in town, but I didn’t care. My hair was stringy and greasy and I was easy for the truckers and the bar clowns that hung around night after night, fighting sometimes just for the sheer pleasure of it. I’d quit high school, but I could write my name and add two plus two without a calculator. And this time, I got to thinking, I got to planning, and one morning I hitched a ride on a semi that was headed for California in the blaze of a west Texas sunrise. I remember how he’d sit reading his schedules of bouts and planning his routes to the heart of a country he thought he could conquer with only one soldier, the $1000 cockfight always further down the pike, or balanced on the knife edge, but he wanted to deny me even that, wanted me silent and finally wife to some other unfinished businessman, but tonight, it’s just me and this old rooster, and when I’m ready, I untie him and he runs through the trailer, flapping his wings and crowing like it’s daybreak and maybe it is. Maybe we’ve both come our separate ways to reconciliation, or to placating the patron saint of roosters and lost children, and when I go outside, he strolls after me until I kneel down and we stare at each other from the cages we were born to, both knowing what it’s like to fly at an enemy’s face and take him down for the final count. Preacher, I say, I got my GED, a AA degree in computer science, a husband, and a son named Gerald, who’s three. I’ve been to L.A., Chicago, and New York City on a dare, and know what?– it’s shitty everywhere, but at least it’s not home.

After the coroner’s gone, I clean up the trailer, and later, smoke one of Father’s hand-rolled cigarettes as I walk by the river, a quivering way down in my guts, while Preacher huddles in his cage. A fat frog catches the lit cigarette and swallows it. I go back and look at the picture of my husband and son, reread the only letter I ever sent and which he did not answer, then tear it all to shreds. I hitch the pickup to the trailer and put Preacher’s cage on the seat, then I aim my car for the river, start it, and jump out just before it hits. I start the pickup and sit bent over the steering wheel, shaking and crying, until I hear Preacher clawing at the wire, my path clear, my fear drained from me like blood from a cut that’s still not deep enough to kill you off, Father, to spill you out of me for good. What was it that made us kin, that sends daughters crawling after fathers who abandon them at the womb’s door? What a great and liberating crowing comes from your rooster as another sunrise breaks the night apart with bare hands and the engine roars as I press the pedal to the floor and we shoot forward onto the road. Your schedule of fights, clipped above the dashboard, flutters in the breeze. Barstow, El Centro, then swing back to Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, and a twenty-minute soak in the hot springs where Geronimo once bathed, before we wind back again into Arizona, then all the way to Idaho by way of Colorado, the climb, then the slow, inevitable descent toward the unknown mine now. Mine.

(from Fate, pp. 129-33)

***

PENIS ENVY

My wife deserved to be shot. I served time in the Gulf, and I am telling you when I came home and found her packed up and gone, it wasn't long until I hatched a plan. I located the man behind it all, staked out his apartment and his job. Then one afternoon, I dressed up in camouflage, loaded up my AK-47 and went to Hot Dog Heaven. I found them in the parking lot, sharing kisses over lunch. I came up from behind, but changed my mind and walked right in front, and aimed through the windshield, before they had a chance to see who it was. I shouted my name, hoping she would hear it as she died, then I went to the passenger side and fired at his head. A red mass exploded like a sunburst. At first, I couldn't believe I'd done it, then I put the gun down and looked at my hands, which were steady. I pulled open the door, before I knew what I was doing. I just had to see what he was hiding in his pants. It was pathetic, a sad, shriveled thing there between his legs and not the foot-long she had said made her scream with pleasure. I did hear screams, but they were coming from my mouth, not hers. Noise, I thought, as I fired at her body again. Of course, I'd turned the gun on myself. What else could I do to erase it all? - the 911 calls, the sirens in the distance, but the ordinariness of murder overwhelmed me, possessed me like a spirit and I thought how easy it would be to take two or three more people with me. Instead, I decided to give myself up, plus I was out of ammunition. I guess it is my destiny, to be a living example for other men, who are only bluffing when they threaten violence. Now once a week, I write a column on relationships for the prison publication. I base my advice on actual situations. For example, Clarence Thomas. He had a dick fixation, just as I did. For me, it was a torment and my downfall and nearly his. Ultimately, the question is always how far are you willing to go? I think within his parameters, Clarence went the distance. As far as I'm concerned, he's earned his place on the Supreme Court and stands tall beside all the other men, who haven't given in to a woman's scorn, who are born again from the fire of their ridicule. If you ask me, Anita Hill got off too easily. I would have caught the bitch some afternoon, while the cherry blossoms were in bloom and boom, solved all my problems. Oops! I think I wobbled over the line that separates fantasy from crime. The counselors tell me all the time I've got to get it straight how the imagination sometimes races on without us. But I know Debby and Ed are off somewhere eating wedding cake and letting me take the fall for their betrayal. Is it fair that on the other side of this wall Clarence has it all and I have nothing but a ball and chain? That reminds me, I checked this Othello play out of the library. It's about a guy who loses his reputation and his wife, well, he kills her, but she made him. I found some parallels to my own life and Clarence's. Othello's black. But the other subtler thing is how a man must stand up to humiliation, must retaliate, or lose himself, who when he finds some pubic hair in his can of Coke must ask, regardless of the consequences, who put it there? (from Greed, pp. 176-79)

#ai #book quotes

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gyrlversion · 5 years

Text

EDEN CONFIDENTIAL: Esther Freud and David Morrissey split

Actor David Morrissey and novelist wife Esther Freud has announced their separation after 13 year together

With his brooding good looks and her fascinating family history, actor David Morrissey and novelist Esther Freud were one of society’s most celebrated showbusiness couples.

So I am sad to report that the couple, who met at drama school 26 years ago, have separated. They had been married 13 years.

‘It’s a great shame, but they just couldn’t make it work any longer,’ one of their many friends tells me. ‘They are making sure that the interests of their three children come first.’

The couple, who shared a house in Hampstead, are now living separately in North London.

As recently as last year, Esther, who is the 55-year-old daughter of late artist Lucian Freud, was talking affectionately in interviews about Morrissey, 54, the star of television dramas including The Walking Dead and The Deal, in which he played Gordon Brown.

Morrissey, who has been hailed as one of the most talented actors of his generation, did, though, highlight the great differences in their backgrounds. While he is the son of a Liverpudlian cobbler and a mother who worked for Littlewoods, Esther’s bohemian childhood formed the basis of her acclaimed novel Hideous Kinky, which was turned into a 1998 film starring Kate Winslet.

David Morrissey and Esther Freud at the start of their relationship attending the premiere of Basic Instinct 2 in 2006

The great-granddaughter of the founder of psychoanalysis, Sigmund Freud, Esther is one of Lucian Freud’s 14 children. Her mother is the writer and gardener Bernardine Coverley.

Morrissey has credited Esther with helping to teach him self-discipline.

‘Suddenly,’ he said, ‘I was with someone who imposed a work structure upon themselves.

‘There we were, we’d just met and fallen in love and suddenly, even in my own flat, I was outside my bedroom waiting for two o’clock so I could go in and kiss her.’

Freud and Morrissey declined to comment.

The smart set’s talking about… The Sultan of Brunei’s party-loving prince

As the international outcry intensifies against the Sultan of Brunei after his decree that gay men in his country are to be stoned to death, spare a thought for his exuberant son, Prince Azim.

The party-loving prince — one of the Sultan’s four children by his second wife, former air hostess Hajah Mariam — would be heartbroken if Brunei became a pariah state.

Blessed with a playful spirit, Prince Azim, 36, is pictured here in characteristic pose at a London party, enjoying the company of Pamela Anderson.

Party-loving Prince Azim, son the highly controversial Sultan of Brunei, is spotted enjoying a night out in London with actress and campaigner Pamela Anderson

While the evergreen Baywatch babe favoured a mask and little black dress crafted from PVC, he opted for snakeskin-effect sheer T-shirt. It was offset by powder-blue feather boas, ripped jeans and a pert top hat with a fan-veil of the sort that milliner Philip Treacy might design for Ladies’ Day at Royal Ascot — plus a key, dangling from his neck.

Azim, who followed his father to Sandhurst but lasted only a week, has a serious side, of course, once designing a unisex suitcase for luxury goods brand MCM.

Described as a chic travel bag, it was, said one report, ‘destined to bring out the princess within’.

The Queen cancelled her visit to Newbury, where she had a runner in the 3.40 yesterday, after the death of one of her best friends, Jeannie, the Dowager Countess of Carnarvon, at the age of 83.

Her Majesty had been due to stay for the weekend with the American-born Countess’s family, who live near Newbury racecourse. Jeannie’s late husband, Porchy, was Her Majesty’s close confidant and racing manager. A lively character, she was played by actress Andrea Deck in TV’s The Crown.

Even last year, she was still doing Pilates at her dower house on her family’s Highclere Castle estate, where Downton Abbey is filmed.

Fleabag’s naughty priest breaks up with boyfriend

As the ‘hot priest’ in BBC hit comedy Fleabag (right), Andrew Scott leaves Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character desolate at a bus stop.

In real life, he’s nursing his own broken heart. I hear Scott, 42, has split up with his partner of ten years, the actor and writer Stephen Beresford, 47, inset.

They had shared a London home. ‘I live alone now,’ Scott has confirmed. Asked if he had a new companion, he replied: ‘I have a lot of love in my life, but I prefer not to talk about that.’

Previously best known as Benedict Cumberbatch’s antagonist Moriarty in BBC hit Sherlock, Scott has been hailed as the ‘sexiest man on TV’ after his charismatic turn as a Catholic priest who breaks his vows in a fling with Fleabag’s dysfunctional heroine.

Fleabag’s ‘hot priest’ Andrew Scott (left) has revealed he has split his partner of 10 year Stephen Beresford (right)

If you bump into Dame Vivienne Westwood, who turned 78 this week, best not wish her a happy birthday.

‘I didn’t celebrate,’ the queen of punk-turned-eco-campaigner tells me at a private viewing of Demelza Kids, a show of works by fashion photographer Juergen Teller at Bonhams in Mayfair.

Dame Vivienne Westwood by cartoonist Gary Smith

‘I just stayed at home with my secretary and worked on saving the world. There’s so much to do.

‘I did think it would be nice to go to work — people would like it — but then I don’t like cake or champagne much.’

The eccentric designer, whose clothes are worn by everyone from Theresa May to Angelina Jolie, even banned her husband, Andreas Kronthaler, 67, who now runs her fashion label, from giving her a gift.

‘I don’t need any presents. He gave me a lovely card.’

Now two’s company for Prue

Cookery queen Prue Leith is changing her recipe for a happy marriage.

Until now, twice-married Prue, 79, has extolled the joys of keeping apart.

But the genial Bake Off judge has decided she wants to live with her husband of three years, the retired clothes designer John Playfair, after all.

And she plans to build a new home on her farm in the Cotswolds so he can move in.

Prue Leith plans on converting farm buildings on her Cotswold property so that husband John Playfair can move in

‘The time has come when she and John want to live together, but in a place where they can each have their own quarters,’ one of her friends tells me. ‘They have designed a place themselves, which they are making out of a big old farm building on the land she owns.’

Her agent confirms: ‘Prue and her husband do have plans to convert some redundant farm buildings on her land into a single property.’

‘He lives a mile away from me,’ Prue said, after marrying John, 71.

‘He’s got a lot of stuff and I’m rather anally neat and tidy and I don’t want all that stuff in my house. And he doesn’t want me tidying it up.’

London is to be the scene of a reunion between former U.S. presidents this weekend. I hear that Barack Obama, who is over for his wife Michelle’s talk at the huge 02 Arena tomorrow, is planning to meet up with Bill Clinton, also in the capital with his wife, Hillary.

I wonder if the Obamas will pop into Frogmore Cottage to see their friends Prince Harry and Meghan while they’re here?

Princess Diana would be touched to see how close Prince William has stayed to her old friend Julia Samuel. I hear the Duke of Cambridge asked Julia, a grief counsellor, to be his official representative at the Chelsea memorial service on Thursday for cancer expert Professor Martin Gore, whom William described as an ‘inspiration’. In 2013, William asked Julia to be a godmother to Prince George.

Duchess gives her blessing to Missy’s new man

When Lady Melissa Percy married Thomas van Straubenzee, the ceremony was attended by Princes William and Harry.

Could wedding bells soon be heard again at her family seat, Alnwick Castle, which doubled as Hogwarts in Harry Potter films?

‘Missy’, as the 31-year-old is known to chums, divorced Tom in 2016. And her new romance with American hedge fund boss Remy Trafelet, 48, is going so well that he has already met her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland. ‘We really love Remy,’ her mother, Jane, tells me at the launch of Tim Bouverie’s book, Appeasing Hitler, at China Exchange in Soho.

‘We’re just happy for them because they both had marriages that didn’t work and they now have a second chance at being happy. I would be happy for them to get married when the time’s right.’

Macca’s boy brings the church down!

With his cherubic cheeks and twinkly smile, James McCartney was the image of his father as he performed a secret gig on Thursday night.

Sir Paul’s 41-year-old son received a standing ovation at Heath Street Baptist Church in London’s Hampstead, where he sang and played guitar and piano at an exhibition by photographer Danny Clifford called Rock Stars Don’t Smile.

One of his most moving songs, Angel, was written around the time of his mother Linda’s death from breast cancer in 1998.

At one point, James joked that he sounded less like his father and more like his fellow Beatle John Lennon.

Like father, like son: James McCartney (left) received a standing ovation for a performance at Heath Street Baptist Church in London’s Hampstead, taking after father Sir Paul (right)

Has Prince Charles secured a powerful ally in his crusade for alternative medicine?

I ask because the Health Secretary and prime ministerial wannabe, Matt Hancock, made an 800-mile round trip to hold private talks with the heir to the throne on Wednesday at one of his Scottish residences, Dumfries House.

Officials decline to comment on what the two men discussed. But their meeting took place a week after Hancock, 40, spoke at a reception in support of ‘social prescription’ therapies hosted by Charles at Clarence House.

On that occasion, Hancock — whose wife, Martha, is an osteopath — lamented that doctors were ‘dishing out’ too many pills. Music to Charles’s princely ears.

(Very) modern manners

Brexit is a no-go subject at most dinner parties, but imagine what it’s like at Boris Johnson’s family get-togethers.

The Brexiteer MP’s sister, Rachel, is an ardent Remainer. And she tells me: ‘Our house rules are don’t talk about Brexit at meals. If it does [come up], it all goes wrong and my mother sits there crying gently.’

Speaking at an Amnesty International bash at L’Escargot in London’s Soho, Rachel adds: ‘There is a liberal side of the family that is overlooked in the narrative of the Johnsons being this ambitious, power-hungry, blond tribe.’

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theinsouciantscribbler · 5 years

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Not Another Vampire Romance: Chapter 3: “Wool Gathering is not about shaving Sheep.”

I felt my mood shift as I walked into his apartment complex, my mind a hundred miles away. I couldn’t stop the thoughts of my parents popping into focus in between each step I took down the dark navy hall, or the rise of a bulging pain in my throat; a throng of remembered ache that still tortured my heart each time something reminded me of them.

Even the smallest of things, like the smell of oatmeal, reminded me of my father. He would eat it everyday for breakfast with his cup of coffee before he went off to work. The sweet scent of Lillies reminded me of my mothers perfume. Sometimes, when I would walk through a department store, even the slightest whiff of a similar perfume could throw my mind into a series of flashes of her smile and cheerful voice. It would wreck every last piece of brick I had built up from the time before, the pain still new and fresh even after six years.

However, the worst of it was not that they were gone too soon, or that I didn’t get to say ‘I love you’ one last time. I knew they loved me, and they knew I loved them. I knew that their time had come, even if it was a bitter way to go. The worst was the day to day things, the small and seemingly insignificant things that made it painful. I couldn’t call my mom to tell her about my day, or ask her about hers. I couldn’t talk to my dad and ask his advice about the multitude of things he seemed to know about; what direction I should take for school, or what he thought about my latest piece of art whether it be of music or painting. I didn’t have that anymore, I couldn’t go home and know that I could find my mom in the kitchen cooking dinner for my dad when he came home from work, or find my dad working on the various projects he busied himself with on the weekend.

The worst was when I had lost everything I had tried to rebuild, the family I had fought for against every odd and it still wasn’t enough. That even after everything, I was back to where I started; alone and broken.

“Are you okay?” Grey’s words finally ripped me out of the spiral I was drowning in.

I jerked my head up and looked at him.

“Yeah, of course.” I lied. “Why?”

“You’re crying.” We had stopped right outside of his door, the number ’39’ in a tarnished bronze hanging crooked. His hand on the door knob and another reaching for my cheek. I was hesitant to let him close, finding any courage I had long gone.

Lightening fast, his hand cupped my chin, sending a tremor to surge down my spine while his thumb wiped away a tear. His skin was a bit rough, but it was real and somehow felt safe; it gave comfort when everything else caused unrest and anguish. I felt myself drawn in to his eyes that made me wild the first time I had seen them, found those brick walls tumbling from his smokey voice. When the first wall collapsed it startled me back to reality.

‘Don’t get attached.’ I warned, ‘You’ll loose everything that you love. Every time.’

I backed away from his warm, soothing hold. Even if he had just been holding my chin, my entire body felt cold now.

“I should go.” I decided, knowing that this dream would have to end eventually, so it ought to end now.

“Okay.” He seemed unaffected by my choice, which made the ache worse somehow.

“Thank you, for saving me.” I thanked, my eyes scanning his face like a piece of art. Admittedly, I was committing him to memory, every nook and cranny; every shape unique and beautiful.

“As requested, don’t mention it, if you would.” He asked again, and I couldn’t do more than nod an agreement.

I backed away slowly, wondering why the world was pulling me towards him while I fought to leave.

“Goodbye.” The words tasted bitter, acidic, even foul. I needed them out of my mouth, but I couldn’t take it back. I turned back down the hall and left, not hearing another word from him.

The moment I was outside of the building, I opened the black purse that had somehow stayed slung around my shoulder this entire escapade. I dug around recklessly, ignoring the silent, salty tears that poured into my mouth as I searched for my phone.

‘Still has power, good.’ But I didn’t feel good, only empty. I unlocked the screen with a swipe of my thumb and opened up a maps app to show me where I was.

‘Only three blocks away from the Blue Goose.’ I thought as I read the directions.

Following them quickly, I walked down the street doing my best to ignore the emptiness I felt creep up on me. It was the same before he came, before the monster had attacked. It was the same reason I had parked so far away from the bar, and why I walked through the dimly lit sidewalk last night to my motorcycle. I was lonely, desperate for it to end, but too cruel to let anyone in. I had wanted that creature, what Grey called a ‘Saecula’, to fulfill his promise. I wanted everything to end, yet even through the worst of circumstances that I face, I always ended up alive; alone, but alive.

“It’s not fair.” I mumbled bitterly, thinking of all the people that had gotten close to me, only to fall down dead like flies. I couldn’t help but wonder why did they have to die, why was it their time to go and to leave me here? Why could we not have gone together, or better yet, I had taken their place, even just to save one?

‘Why them, and not me?’ But I never got an answer.

Somehow or another, I managed to find my motorcycle still standing from the overnight sleepover in the alley and helmet still dangling on the back. I shoved the bright yellow jacket helmet over my head before I secured my phone and bag in the flip up compartment of the seat. I pulled out the keys from my pocket and made the yellow, Kawasaki Ninja hum. Revving slightly, it purred like a new born kitten under my fingers. I felt a rush of excitement every time I rode this vehicle, and up till last night, it was the only thing that had made me feel happy to be alive.

Zooming out of the alley with an unbridled speed, I zipped down the quiet Sunday morning road, taking back roads until I finally left the city and was at full speed down the country highway. The wind smacked against my visor and I felt it slip around my exposed neck and into my jacket like a violent, uninvited hand. It made my skin crawl, caused the hairs on my air to prick, and thrilled the blood coursing through my body.

Weaving along the country-side with the road, I found my head clear for once in too long a while, and wished it had lasted longer when I finally arrived home. I slowed into a gentle roll, my eyes gazing at my childhood home. It was a lovely mint green, an old craftsmen made in the early 1900’s. My parents had taken good care of it while they owned it, and when it came into my hands, I tried to keep their memory alive.

“I will miss this place.” I sighed, parking the Kawaski down the driveway.

I couldn’t afford to live here anymore, the taxes alone were too much, and after what happened two weeks ago, I needed to find a new job, and those are too few to count over here. I had a few offers, back west. I would have to leave Maine, leave the beauty of this state behind, leave all the memories I cherished to the past.

I wasn’t sure I could.

I wondered how I would ever be able to visit the graves of my parents if I moved, visit my best friend Kathrine who was two rows down from my parents and who was just a few graves over from Charolette and Clarence.

I couldn’t resist the urge a moment longer and grasped the heart locket that hung on my neck. It was made of black hills gold, the twin leaves and twin vines symbolizing what was held inside and what I had lost. I flipped open the delicate panel and gazed at the faces that stared directly back at me just like they had every morning; bright eyed and daring, ready for adventure.

My ankles gave out from under me and I crumpled down to sit on the first step that lead up to the porch and cried. I ached so deeply, felt too much too quickly; it all tore at me and ate me away. Their sapphire blue eyes, curly blonde locks that gracefully fell down their faces. Their smiles were so full of life, of hope and innocence. I clung the locket to my breast as if they were in my arms once more, directly where the scar stung the worst. A literal wound that would never heal from a bullet that had just missed my heart by centimeters. The doctor had called me lucky.

Lucky.

I hated that word so much.

When the chill in the air began nipping too harshly upon my exposed skin, I found the incomprehensible strength to rise onto my shaky legs. My fingers numbly closed the locket and let it delicately drop down and hide once more under my shirt. I turned around and looked to my home, somehow having the courage to go inside and be swarmed with the memories of the past.

I hadn’t taken more than a step inside the soft, country themed decor of my mothers design when my phone started buzzing. I felt my heart drop while an annoying thumping began to rise in my head. There could only be one of two things calling me, and both I tried to avoid at all costs. I pulled my phone to look at it buzz in my hand, and sure enough…

“Oh.” That was surprising.

I quickly slid my thumb to answer and rose the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I asked the hollow device, waiting for a reply.

“Alyra, I think it is time we talk.”

“Marcus.”

#Writing Fantasy Romance Horror Chapter3

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theconservativebrief · 6 years

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It was a sharp contrast in moods at the US Senate following Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation vote on Saturday.

Democrats, by and large, were somber, withdrawn, and almost tearful, while Republicans appeared positively ebullient. Sen. John Cornyn (R-TX) quipped to reporters that the divisiveness of this fight is just something to put up with: “What’s our choice? I mean, we can’t get a divorce.”

Republicans — alongside lone Democratic Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia — elevated Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court after he had been accused of sexual misconduct and assault, prompting painful echoes of Anita Hill’s sexual harassment allegations against Clarence Thomas during his confirmation hearings in 1991. Kavanaugh has unequivocally denied the allegations.

Kavanaugh is expected to reshape the Court for decades to come, but to millions, his confirmation also says that women — at the end of the day — still shouldn’t be believed.

Here’s what 12 senators had to say about the message Kavanaugh’s confirmation sends to women in America.

Li Zhou

What message does Kavanaugh’s confirmation send to women in America?

Elizabeth Warren

This is the “sit down and shut up” message. But I got news for them: That’s not going to happen. One of the things that’s come out of this fight is that millions of survivors of sexual assault have lifted their voices, and millions of women have said, “I’m not sitting down and shutting up for nobody.”

Li Zhou

Do you feel like things have changed since Anita Hill?

Elizabeth Warren

Not nearly enough. Just not nearly enough.

Li Zhou

I was wondering what message you think this vote sends to the women in America?

Roy Blunt

I would think: One, in the last three weeks, that millions of conversations have been had that have not been had before about sexual assault. Two, I believe that Dr. [Christine Blasey] Ford was treated with respect and listened to with respect, and I hope the message is that these things need to be talked about, these things should be talked about. But the message should also be that you’re not guilty just because somebody says you’re guilty.

There needs to be some understanding of memory and how complicated memory is, and I’m hopeful that the question of assault and women coming forward is a discussion we continue to have.

Li Zhou

Did you believe Dr. Ford’s testimony?

Roy Blunt

I did, I did.

Li Zhou

Do you think that the fact that —

Roy Blunt

I just … I believed that she had a traumatic event and that her memory of it was genuine. And like I said, there’s a lot of research and writing on this, but memory is a very complicated thing. And I think you can believe she had a traumatic event that has impacted her life and also believe Judge Kavanaugh when he says he was not involved in that event.

Li Zhou

Do you find the two to be somewhat incompatible? In that, if you believe her, you believe that she has the right guy. She remembered things correctly, she testified that she was 100 percent sure, all of that.

Roy Blunt

Well, like I said. There’s been a lot of research on this and memory is a tricky thing. He was very unequivocal in his categorical denial of this or anything like it. He went a lot further than he would have needed to go if he had ever been involved in anything like this, because anybody could have come forward. But that doesn’t belittle her trauma, I don’t think, in any way.

Ella Nilsen

Hi, Senator. I just wanted to get your thoughts on what this vote today means for women in America?

Richard Blumenthal

This day is the angriest and saddest time for me in the United States Senate.

Ella Nilsen

In your entire tenure here?

Richard Blumenthal

Exactly. The Republicans have confirmed this dangerous and deeply flawed nominee only by breaking all the rules and norms, demeaning courageous survivors of sexual assault, and confirming a justice who poses an extraordinary threat to women’s reproductive rights, and health care, and other essential equal rights.

Ella Nilsen

What stakes does this set up for 2018 and 2020, in terms of the Supreme Court?

Richard Blumenthal

Well, for folks that are anguished or angry at this day, my urging is vote. Vote, and take three people to the polls.

Ella Nilsen

What message does today’s vote send to women in America?

Thom Tillis

Well, hopefully, if they paid no attention in any detail to anything that’s occurred over the last six weeks, I hope they’ll pay attention to what Sen. [Susan] Collins said yesterday. As somebody on the Personnel Subcommittee, I’m moving with Sen. [Kirsten] Gillibrand sexual assault legislation in every single year that I’ve been on that committee. All of us know that it’s a concern.

I think this has heightened awareness, but I believe if people really listen to what Sen. Collins said yesterday, she really framed it better than anybody.

To make this about “one party cares about sexual assault and the other one doesn’t” is disingenuous, and they know it — based on the work that we do, in terms of moving legislation to this end.

Ella Nilsen

What did you make of the protesters in the Senate today?

Thom Tillis

Well, it was fully expected; if anything I thought it would be more disruptive. As somebody who sits on the Judiciary Committee, we’ve seen it on the front row, and it’s a lot of frustration. But if you see the information that many people are working on, I think they’re generally protesting because they believe what they’ve been lead to believe, whether by the way the press has covered it, or by the way various interest groups have covered it.

My heart really breaks for them, because I think they genuinely mean it, and I don’t think that it’s a fair representation of any of the priorities of the fathers of daughters and granddaughters. … I mean, it couldn’t be further away from the truth.

Ella Nilsen

What special interest groups are you referring to?

Thom Tillis

Well, I think MoveOn was advising people on how and where to protest, some of the various other groups. And I’m sure there were some pro-Kavanaugh groups that were doing the same. But I think they’ve chosen to have a very limited view of the issue. It’s really just to drive their agenda.

Li Zhou

Could you talk a bit about what kind of message this vote sends to women in America?

Amy Klobuchar

Well, it’s just — I’m just — it’s just so sad to talk about it. I think that women and men have, now they have to speak. The Senate spoke. This was their view. They didn’t do a thorough investigation, they’re putting someone on the Court who has extremely conservative views even outside of his whole hearings last week. And so now the people are going to have to decide.

And as I looked over at them, at all of them hanging out, practically celebrating, I thought, Well, let’s see how you feel the day after the election.

Reporter

Do you think this is going to encourage Democratic voters to turn out?

Amy Klobuchar

I think it is, and I think they were already pretty incentivized. I mostly think that when you looked at that chamber and you combine it with Sen. Grassley — well, he corrected his remarks very quickly — about there not having enough women on the committee because they didn’t want to work that hard.

I think it’s been a hard week to explain to people, and I think you just explain it by: This place is stuck in another era, and it’s time to get it to the place where the rest of America is.

Reporter

Sen. McConnell thinks that this energized his side.

Amy Klobuchar

I’m not going to be a pundit. I just know that this was wrong.

Ella Nilsen

What is the message that today’s vote sends to women in America?

Bill Cassidy

If there’s something positive that came out of this, it’s that there is an awareness that there are wounds we as a society have to look at, not only to help heal, but also to avoid future [wounds]. I think it also shows that anyone, whether it’s a woman or a man, can hopefully trust that their reputation will not be destroyed by one, uncorroborated allegation. Because that of course, is a threat to anyone, whether male or female.

Ella Nilsen

That’s what you think this process demonstrated?

Bill Cassidy

I think clearly Dr. Ford’s allegations were taken quite seriously. But that fact that all four people whom she named as being there, including her best friend, said it didn’t happen, at some point there has to be the fairness for all parties concerned. And I think it was powerful that her best friend — again — said it didn’t happen. [Ed: A friend of Ford’s, Leland Keyser, said she had no recollection of an event that could corroborate Ford’s accusation of sexual assault against Kavanaugh, but said she believes Ford’s account.]

But on the other hand, again, those allegations were received with great respect by Republicans. I will point out Democrats exploited them, exploited her desire for confidentiality.

Ella Nilsen

Senator, on today’s vote, what message does this send to women in America?

Mazie Hirono

Not a good one. This is a historic vote — not in a good way, because we’re sending yet another justice to the Supreme Court with this huge cloud over him, not to mention his very partisan screed. He really ripped away the veil of nonpartisanship, which by the way, he wrote about as being really important for a judge to be nonpartisan. So that’s all out the window in his desire to get onto the Supreme Court. Of course, before Dr. Ford came forward with her report, I was very much against him for so many other reasons.

Ella Nilsen

Were you in the chamber today when protesters were being led out?

Mazie Hirono

Yes.

Ella Nilsen

What was your reaction to that?

Mazie Hirono

What’s happening all across the country is that people are paying attention, especially women. And all the victims — mainly women — the survivors that came forward by the thousands, this whole experience brought out their own painful experiences, which they hid from everybody, practically. They’re not going to forget this. There are lots of angry women out there, and I’m encouraging them to stay angry, but determined, and focus like a laser beam on the elections.

Ella Nilsen

Senator, I’m curious what message you think today’s vote sends to women in America?

Tim Scott

I think, ah — well, I guess it depends on how you look at it.

Ella Nilsen

Well, how do you see it?

Tim Scott

Well, I mean —

Senator’s staffer

We released a statement earlier on it.

Tim Scott

Yeah, we can send you our statement.

Ella Nilsen

Sure. I’m curious what you made of all of the protests today in the Senate [during the vote], it seemed unusual.

Tim Scott

Not really, we’ve had this before. People are actively involved and engaged in the country, and they want their voices to be heard. Sometimes they do it constructively, and sometimes they don’t. I get the passion and the energy around the issue, and I think it’s important for people who have the right to engage fully to engage. That’s part of our democracy.

Ella Nilsen

What message do you think this vote sends to women in America?

Martin Heinrich

Unfortunately, I think it sends the message that if you come forward, you’re not going to be taken seriously. And I think that’s an absolutely horrible message to send.

Ella Nilsen

Were you in the Senate when protesters were being led out today?

Martin Heinrich

I was not. I think this will have implications for many, many years to come, and will really define both parties well into the future.

Ella Nilsen

What message does today’s vote send to women in America?

Brian Schatz

I don’t want to speak for the other side. I don’t want to send the women of America a message on behalf of Republicans. But I’ve never seen so much pain in any political situation, and I believe that pain is going to manifest itself in electoral fury.

Ella Nilsen

What are the stakes you see for 2018, and even beyond to 2020, when it comes to the Supreme Court?

Brian Schatz

Well, this is the most important midterm election in many, many generations. And if you don’t like what just happened, at this point there’s only one remedy, and that is to win on November 6.

Li Zhou

What message does the outcome of this vote send to women in America?

Sheldon Whitehouse

I don’t have a short answer.

Li Zhou

Do you have a long one?

Sheldon Whitehouse

Probably. But I’m not ready to deliver it yet.

Li Zhou

Do you feel like things have changed since Anita Hill?

Sheldon Whitehouse

I wasn’t here then, so I don’t have a point of comparison.

Li Zhou

Just when it comes to believing women and believing their allegations and taking those into account in a nomination like this.

Sheldon Whitehouse

Like I said, I wasn’t there then, so I don’t have a point of comparison.

What I do see is that at least they feel like they have to pretend to believe women, and then turn around and without saying so, totally disbelieve them.

Li Zhou

What kind of message does this vote send to women in America?

Patrick Leahy

The other side would disagree, but I think it sends a terrible, terrible message, amplified by what Donald Trump — in his statements deriding women, trying to shame women. Have we learned nothing?

Li Zhou

Do you think anything’s changed since the Anita Hill hearings?

Patrick Leahy

Obviously not enough. I was there for both hearings, and I was one of the ones who said, “I believed Anita Hill.” But no, not enough has changed.

Original Source -> 12 senators on what message Brett Kavanaugh’s confirmation sends to America’s women

via The Conservative Brief

#IFTTT #The Conservative Brief

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samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

My Husband Isn’t My “Type”and He’s Definitely Not My Best Friend

“Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really? Because mine isnt.”

ByRobin O’Bryant

Im going to need everyone who has posted a Facebook status along the lines of, Happy Anniversary to my best friend and the love of my life! to form a line, so that in an orderly fashion, I can walk down said line and thump each of you right in the middle of your foreheads.

Is your husband really, truly your best friend? Really?

Because mine isnt.

When people ask me how I met my husband, I usually just say, Church. You need to know someone pretty well before you say something like, God told me he was my husband and even though Im not used to hearing voices, I just went for it! Whats to lose, amiright?!

It was the summer of 1997, I was 19 years old and spending the break working in the office of a new evangelical church my mother had started attending.

My parents had just gone through a shocking divorce, and by shocking, let me just say that to this very day, almost 20 years after their divorce, Ive never heard my parents argue. Ever. They woke us up one fine Alabama Saturday morning and told us they had gotten a divorce a few weeks earlier and my dad was moving out. There was no warning shot fired, no attempt at counseling or reconciliation, just that one sucker punch when we werent paying attention. A year later, I broke up with my boyfriend of four years and my heart was still tender from both events.

Maybe I was naive to think I could bargain with God, but nevertheless, I laid out my terms in my journal:

Ill never give my heart away again. Im giving it to you. Maybe Im ridiculous to never want to date again, but if you could just give me a sign or something when I meet my husbandTHEN Ill date him and fall in love. I dont want to risk picking the wrong person again. After everything…I dont trust my own judgment. So a burning bush? Im not in a hurry. Im ready to go all Sister Mary Clarence about this (thats a Sister Act jokeGod gets me). So, please. Smoke signals? Something…

Before I headed back for the next semester, my older brother Matt and I decided to go to Texas for a Christian motorcycle rally with a family from our new church. (And yes, I do realize this story is getting weirder by the second.) It was kind of a Christian convention meets county fair/campgrounds, but with former Hells Angels who have converted and love JesusIm sure you have the perfect mental picture.

We borrowed a tent, loaded Matts car and joined a caravan of cars following the OBryant family to Texas. One of their sons, Zeb, was a year younger than me. But even if I hadnt been in my Sister Mary Clarence phase, I wouldnt have looked at him twice.

Zeb wasnt my type. My type was clean cut and all-American, the kind who wore lots of Polo shirts and khaki pants, possibly played golf and most definitely was a member of Key Club. Zeb rode a metallic blue 1976 Harley-Davidson everywhere he went, had a goatee that was a little longer than I thought sanitary and his naturally brown hair was bleached blonde and spiked in a manner not unlike Edward Cullensor Edward Scissorhands, for that matter.

Regardless, meeting Zeb began a weekend-long love affair with his vintage Harley-Davidson and Texas back roads. Every time Zeb jumped on his bike, hed give me a nod, Id hop on and wed take off. The rumble of the Harley and the twisting roads through the Hill Country almost hypnotized me. The wind blasted my face and ratted my hair as the sun warmed my jeans. I was careful to keep my hands gently on Zebs hips and to not lean too close against himSister Mary Clarence didnt want to inadvertently press any boobage against his back and give him the wrong idea.

We were sitting in a tent revival type of meetingfolding chairs and open air with the stars hanging low and lazy in the night sky. Our faces were still grey with the road dust and we smelled sweetly of sunshine and gasoline. I was sitting there with my Bible open on my lap when I had a crazy thought:

My husband is here somewhere…

My eyes scanned the crowd and as they did, they fell on Zeb, who was sitting to my right, ripped jeans and motorcycle boots propped on the chair in front of him. Now Im not saying I heard an audible voice, but something deep inside of me clearly shouted, Its him.

I knew from that moment on I would marry him. And its a damn good thing I was hearing voices that nightotherwise I wouldve totally missed it.

Zeb is my polar opposite. Hes an extrovert; Im an introvert. He loves nature and the outdoors; Ive wondered if I could get a PhD in Netflix. Hes calm, steady and always in a good mood. Im creative, a roller-coaster of emotions and quite franklyprone to hysterics.

I want a best friend who will tell me I need one more pair of shoes and a man who will remind me to save for my retirement account. I want to call my best friend when I feel Ive been wronged and hear her say, What a b*tch! I cant believe she said that to you! I want to be married to a man who says, Who gives a sh*t what she thinks? And I want to get into bed at night with a man who ignites things in me no one else can.

Zeb isnt my best friend.

I have never been so angry at my best friend that I fantasized about throwing a lamp or other miscellaneous piece of furniture at her head. I cant say the same for ole Zeb. For example, once our 3-year-old had walking pneumonia. Sadie was running a fever, listless and refused to drink anything. I tried all manner of juices, an assortment of sippy cups and silly straws all to no avail.

Zeb, will you go to the store and get some Popsicles? I asked.

Do you really think she needs sugar when shes this sick?

I think she needs any type of fluid she can get down because shes going to get dehydrated. So yes, I think she needs Popsicles. I replied.

Give her some water, Zeb advised.

I HAVE.

Try some juice.

Really Zeb? Ive tried everything. Thats why I need Popsicles. I was starting to get pretty pissed.

I just dont think she needs sugar. He said, again.

Noted. Now go to the store and get Popsicles. Please. I said please out loud but in my head I was screaming, YOU SOB!

He was as mad as all get out, but he went to the storevictory was mine! Sadie would be hydrated! All was well with the world…until he walked in the door carrying a box of 200 Otter Pops that werent even frozen.

Is this really happening?! I yelled, What the hell? POPSICLES, Zeb! Why is that so hard?

These ARE Popsicles! He yelled back.

No they arent! Theyll be Popsicles in 36-48 hours but they are most certainly NOT Popsicles right now! Why didnt you get frozen ones?

He looked me straight in the eye and said, I didnt know you could buy them that way.

Are you sure thats how you want to play this? Do you really want me to believe youre that stupid? I asked.

I dont know that Ive ever been so completely filled with rage. Over freaking Popsicles.

But thats the way it is with me and Zebwe are passionate and stubborn. Sometimes I think I might see myself on an episode of Dateline, Josh Mankiewicz strolling down our street as a camera pans wide and says,In the small town of Greenwood, Mississippi, everything looked perfect for Zeb and Robin OBryant…until one day, in a fit of rage, Robin did the unthinkable…

But then, in a split second, Zeb is there with eyes the exact same amber brown assunshine filtered through a beer bottle. He wraps his arms around me while Im standing at the stove cooking dinner. Hekisses my neck and his beard tickles my skin, Sorry, he whispers. And I melt.

Zeb isnt my best friend. Depending on the movie I want to see, Ill ditch him in a second for my girlfriends. But when things gets real, I dont care if anyone is standing with me but him. Hes my partner, my equal and without a doubt, my better half. Zeb is the peanut butter to my jelly, the yin to my yang, the spiritual Xanax to my eight-ball of coke.

Im also going to need all of you people who say, Thanks for the best 15 years of my life! to stand in a separate corner and await your own punishment, because marriage isnt easy, and it most certainly isnt all happy.

Id rather say:

I really appreciate you driving me to therapy every week.

Thanks for not leaving me when I act like a lunatic.

“Thanks for acting like you thought I was sexy for the last 16 years even though Ive gained and lost hundreds of pounds and my stretch marks look like a topographical map of the Rocky Mountains.

I have lots of friends, hell, I even have lots of best friends…but there is and will always be, only one Zeb. Hes my husband and thats enough.

About the Author: Robin O’Bryant is the The New Times best-selling author of Ketchup is a Vegetable and Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves. You can follow her on FaceBook as Robin O’Bryantor Twitter.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/06/10/my-husband-isnt-my-typeand-hes-definitely-not-my-best-friend/

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frankiefellinlove · 7 years

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RIP Clarence... "I've been sitting here listening to everyone talk about Clarence and staring at that photo of the two of us right there. It's a picture of Scooter and The Big Man, people who we were sometimes. As you can see in this particular photo, Clarence is admiring his muscles and I'm pretending to be nonchalant while leaning upon him. I leaned on Clarence a lot; I made a career out of it in some ways." "Those of us who shared Clarence's life, shared with him his love and his confusion. Though "C" mellowed with age, he was always a wild and unpredictable ride. Today I see his sons Nicky, Chuck, Christopher and Jarod sitting here and I see in them the reflection of a lot of C's qualities. I see his light, his darkness, his sweetness, his roughness, his gentleness, his anger, his brilliance, his handsomeness, and his goodness. But, as you boys know your pop was a not a day at the beach. "C" lived a life where he did what he wanted to do and he let the chips, human and otherwise, fall where they may. Like a lot of us your pop was capable of great magic and also of making quite an amazing mess. This was just the nature of your daddy and my beautiful friend. Clarence's unconditional love, which was very real, came with a lot of conditions. Your pop was a major project and always a work in progress. "C" never approached anything linearly, life never proceeded in a straight line. He never went A... B.... C.... D. It was always A... J.... C.... Z... Q... I....! That was the way Clarence lived and made his way through the world. I know that can lead to a lot of confusion and hurt, but your father also carried a lot of love with him, and I know he loved each of you very very dearly." "It took a village to take care of Clarence Clemons. Tina, I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for taking care of my friend, for loving him. Victoria, you've been a loving, kind and caring wife to Clarence and you made a huge difference in his life at a time when the going was not always easy. To all of "C's" vast support network, names too numerous to mention, you know who you are and we thank you. Your rewards await you at the pearly gates. My pal was a tough act but he brought things into your life that were unique and when he turned on that love light, it illuminated your world. I was lucky enough to stand in that light for almost 40 years, near Clarence's heart, in the Temple of Soul." "So a little bit of history: from the early days when Clarence and I traveled together, we'd pull up to the evening's lodgings and within minutes "C" would transform his room into a world of his own. Out came the colored scarves to be draped over the lamps, the scented candles, the incense, the patchouli oil, the herbs, the music, the day would be banished, entertainment would come and go, and Clarence the Shaman would reign and work his magic, night after night. Clarence's ability to enjoy Clarence was incredible. By 69, he'd had a good run, because he'd already lived about 10 lives, 690 years in the life of an average man. Every night, in every place, the magic came flying out of C's suitcase. As soon as success allowed, his dressing room would take on the same trappings as his hotel room until a visit there was like a trip to a sovereign nation that had just struck huge oil reserves. "C" always knew how to live. Long before Prince was out of his diapers, an air of raunchy mysticism ruled in the Big Man's world. I'd wander in from my dressing room, which contained several fine couches and some athletic lockers, and wonder what I was doing wrong! Somewhere along the way all of this was christened the Temple of Soul; and "C" presided smilingly over its secrets, and its pleasures. Being allowed admittance to the Temple's wonders was a lovely thing." "As a young child my son Sam became enchanted with the Big Man... no surprise. To a child Clarence was a towering fairy tale figure, out of some very exotic storybook. He was a dreadlocked giant, with great hands and a deep mellifluous voice sugared with kindness and regard. And... to Sammy, who was just a little white boy, he was deeply and mysteriously black. In Sammy's eyes, "C" must have appeared as all of the African continent, shot through with American cool, rolled into one welcoming and loving figure. So... Sammy decided to pass on my work shirts and became fascinated by Clarence's suits and his royal robes. He declined a seat in dad's van and opted for "C's" stretch limousine, sitting by his side on the slow cruise to the show. He decided dinner in front of the hometown locker just wouldn't do, and he'd saunter up the hall and disappear into the Temple of Soul." "Of course, also enchanted was Sam's dad, from the first time I saw my pal striding out of the shadows of a half empty bar in Asbury Park, a path opening up before him; here comes my brother, here comes my sax man, my inspiration, my partner, my lifelong friend. Standing next to Clarence was like standing next to the baddest ass on the planet. You were proud, you were strong, you were excited and laughing with what might happen, with what together, you might be able to do. You felt like no matter what the day or the night brought, nothing was going to touch you. Clarence could be fragile but he also emanated power and safety, and in some funny way we became each other's protectors; I think perhaps I protected "C" from a world where it still wasn't so easy to be big and black. Racism was ever present and over the years together, we saw it. Clarence's celebrity and size did not make him immune. I think perhaps "C" protected me from a world where it wasn't always so easy to be an insecure, weird and skinny white boy either. But, standing together we were badass, on any given night, on our turf, some of the baddest asses on the planet. We were united, we were strong, we were righteous, we were unmovable, we were funny, we were corny as hell and as serious as death itself. And we were coming to your town to shake you and to wake you up. Together, we told an older, richer story about the possibilities of friendship that transcended those I'd written in my songs and in my music. Clarence carried it in his heart. It was a story where the Scooter and the Big Man not only busted the city in half, but we kicked ass and remade the city, shaping it into the kind of place where our friendship would not be such an anomaly. And that... that's what I'm gonna miss. The chance to renew that vow and double down on that story on a nightly basis, because that is something, that is the thing that we did together... the two of us. Clarence was big, and he made me feel, and think, and love, and dream big. How big was the Big Man? Too fucking big to die. And that's just the facts. You can put it on his grave stone, you can tattoo it over your heart. Accept it... it's the New World." "Clarence doesn't leave the E Street Band when he dies. He leaves when we die." "So, I'll miss my friend, his sax, the force of nature his sound was, his glory, his foolishness, his accomplishments, his face, his hands, his humor, his skin, his noise, his confusion, his power, his peace. But his love and his story, the story that he gave me, that he whispered in my ear, that he allowed me to tell... and that he gave to you... is gonna carry on. I'm no mystic, but the undertow, the mystery and power of Clarence and my friendship leads me to believe we must have stood together in other, older times, along other rivers, in other cities, in other fields, doing our modest version of god's work... work that's still unfinished. So I won't say goodbye to my brother, I'll simply say, see you in the next life, further on up the road, where we will once again pick up that work, and get it done." "Big Man, thank you for your kindness, your strength, your dedication, your work, your story. Thanks for the miracle... and for letting a little white boy slip through the side door of the Temple of Soul." "SO LADIES AND GENTLEMAN... ALWAYS LAST, BUT NEVER LEAST. LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE MASTER OF DISASTER, the BIG KAHUNA, the MAN WITH A PHD IN SAXUAL HEALING, the DUKE OF PADUCAH, the KING OF THE WORLD, LOOK OUT OBAMA! THE NEXT BLACK PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES EVEN THOUGH HE'S DEAD... YOU WISH YOU COULD BE LIKE HIM BUT YOU CAN'T! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE BIGGEST MAN YOU'VE EVER SEEN!... GIVE ME A C-L-A-R-E-N-C-E. WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! WHAT'S THAT SPELL? CLARENCE! ... amen." "I'm gonna leave you today with a quote from the Big Man himself, which he shared on the plane ride home from Buffalo, the last show of the last tour. As we celebrated in the front cabin congratulating one another and telling tales of the many epic shows, rocking nights and good times we'd shared, "C" sat quietly, taking it all in, then he raised his glass, smiled and said to all gathered, "This could be the start of something big." "Love you, "C"."

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