#The Spiral at Hudson Yards

[watsons-busted-kneecap]

✨️Monstrorum AU Masterpost✨️

A Sherlock AU in 2024? More possible than you think. (2016 me has broken out of the mental cage like a rapid dog lmao)

Hello! Welcome to this absolute mess. Got a fic idea that quickly spiraled, you know how it be.

As you've likely guessed, this AU is in a world where Supernatural/Mythical creatures walk out in the daylight alongside humans! This means the world's a whole lot different in some ways, and in others, not at all.

Any info or lore about creatures in this au are either inspired by something, have actual history that's been utilized, or I pulled whatever is going on completely out of my ass as I went about my merry way worldbuilding. Take anything that happens with an entire salt mine! Don't be afraid to ask questions or make suggestions! I'm just having a good time man, none of this is terribly serious lmao.

If you're curious about anything, have suggestions, etc don't be afraid to holler in my Asks. They're always open o7

Now onto the lists aye? Always keep an eye on this post if you want to stay updated on the au, new things will be added randomly as time goes on.

Creature Info

Naga/Nagini • Vampires • Werewolves • Harpies • Sirens • Poltergeists • Spirits • Ghosts • Fae (List) •

Character Info

Dr. John Watson • Sherlock Holmes • Mycroft Holmes • DI Greg Lestrade • Ms. Hudson • DS Sally Donovan • Philip Anderson •

World Info

New Scotland Yard Monstrum Homicide Division • Monstrorum/Monstrum, Monstrum Descent, Monstrum Renatus, & Humans • How Does Monstrum Inheritance Work? •

Monstrorum AU Art Posts

Grumpy Sherlock •

Monstrorum AU Fic Link

Memento Vivere

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This Gothic Victorian hasn’t even dropped yet, but it’s going to be on the market for $1.1M in Hudson, Wisconsin. (I hate what they did to the turret, though- bad reno.) However, it’s currently being used as an Airbnb, but it’s a single family home and it’s GOTHIC inside. 

Place for dining on the large front porch.

Would be great if it came furnished, but the description doesn’t mention anything being included. 

The parlor is set up to accommodate all the guests- there are 7 bds. 

I kind of like the green paint they chose. This is a great dining room set. 

1st fl. powder room.

Kitchen remodel. 

There’s another sitting room and kitchen on the ground level. 

The main suite has spiral stairs to a loft and a stripper pole.

The en suite bath.

Smaller guest room and en suite.

The guest rooms are decorated so nicely.

This home is huge. Look at this floor.

It has a cool red room.

Then there’s an attic room.

Also a theater room in the attic.

And, another beautiful bd.

Above ground pool in the yard.

Plus a 2-tiered deck with a hot tub.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1031-2nd-St-Hudson-WI-54016/79433120_zpid/

[mariacallous]

In 2019, the skylines of many American downtowns were sparkling with new construction. Hudson Yards in New York, the Frost Tower in San Antonio, San Francisco’s Salesforce Tower, the futuristic Amazon Spheres and surrounding towers in Seattle, and thousands of other buildings were all part of the more than 100 million square feet of new office space built in the United States just before the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic.[1] Demand for cities seemed stronger than ever.

Flash forward four years. By now, COVID-19 has claimed the lives of over 1 million Americans and raised new questions about another potential casualty: Is the pandemic, particularly its impact on the nature of work, taking down the American city? Nowhere is this fear more pronounced than in the nation’s “superstar” cities and their shiny downtowns.

This specter of an office real estate apocalypse, “urban doom loop,” transit death spiral, or “ghost towns” is filling some urban observers with existential dread. So too are reports of rising crime and unsheltered homelessness in downtowns. However, this fear is not new, nor is it destiny.

But this dread should prompt public and private sector leaders to reassess. In fact, they have an opportunity to seize this moment to chart a new future for American cities—one that reimagines downtowns as prosperous and inclusive places that advance shared prosperity across all neighborhoods.

A group of public and private sector leaders in some of the nation’s largest cities—New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and Seattle—have come together at Brookings Metro to do just this. These leaders were at the forefront of inclusive growth before the pandemic, and are now working with Brookings Metro and each other to identify policy, practice, and governance solutions that can be the seeds for the next generation of shared prosperity in downtowns, cities, and regions.

[androsky-lugo]

Icons of Ingenuity: Exploring New York City's Contemporary Architectural Marvels

New York City, a global metropolis renowned for its iconic skyline, is in a perpetual architectural evolution. Amidst the towering skyscrapers and historic landmarks, a new breed of contemporary architectural marvels has emerged, reshaping the cityscape and pushing the boundaries of design innovation. Join us as we embark on a journey to explore New York City's most captivating architectural wonders, each a testament to the city's spirit of ingenuity and creativity.

The High Line: A Green Haven Above the Concrete Jungle

Our expedition commences with The High Line, an extraordinary urban park nestled amidst the bustling streets of Manhattan's West Side. Transformed from a disused railway line into a lush oasis of greenery, The High Line offers visitors a unique perspective of the city, elevated above the urban chaos below. Meandering pathways wind through native plantings and art installations, providing a serene retreat from the frenetic pace of city life. The High Line is a shining example of adaptive reuse, breathing new life into neglected urban spaces while fostering community engagement and environmental stewardship.

One World Trade Center: Defining the Manhattan Skyline with Resilience

Dominating the Lower Manhattan skyline, One World Trade Center stands as a beacon of resilience and strength, honouring the memory of the past while embracing the promise of the future. Rising defiantly from the site of the former World Trade Center towers, this iconic skyscraper symbolizes the indomitable spirit of New York City. Designed to withstand the forces of nature and the test of time, One World Trade Center is not merely a monument to human achievement but a testament to the city's unwavering resolve in the face of adversity. With its soaring height and shimmering glass façade, One World Trade Center reaffirms New York City's status as a global powerhouse and a symbol of hope for future generations.

The Vessel: Interactive Artistry Amidst Hudson Yards

In the heart of the Hudson Yards development lies The Vessel, a striking architectural landmark that defies convention and captivates the imagination. British designer Thomas Heatherwick conceived this extraordinary structure, which comprises a series of interlocking staircases spiralling upwards to form a dramatic honeycomb-like lattice. As visitors ascend its dizzy heights, they are treated to breathtaking views of the surrounding skyline, making The Vessel a must-see destination for art enthusiasts and urban explorers alike. More than merely a work of art, The Vessel serves as a dynamic social space, fostering interaction and connection among its visitors while redefining the boundaries of public art in the urban environment.

The Shed: Where Innovation and Culture Collide

As a cultural nexus in the heart of Hudson Yards, The Shed epitomizes the intersection of innovation and culture in contemporary society. This flexible cultural venue features a movable outer shell that can expand or contract to accommodate various performances and exhibitions. From avant-garde theatre productions to cutting-edge multimedia installations, The Shed offers a platform for artistic experimentation and collaboration, enriching the cultural fabric of New York City. With its dynamic programming and commitment to accessibility, The Shed embodies the spirit of inclusivity and creativity that defines the city's cultural landscape.

The Edge: A Sky-High Oasis of Thrills and Views

Perched atop the Hudson Yards development, The Edge offers visitors an unparalleled perspective of the city skyline from its lofty vantage point. As the highest outdoor sky deck in the Western Hemisphere, this architectural marvel boasts panoramic views stretching across Manhattan and beyond. Daredevils can brave the glass-floor observation deck for a heart-stopping thrill, while others can bask in the awe-inspiring vistas that unfold before them. With its sleek design and cutting-edge technology, The Edge redefines the concept of urban observation decks, offering a sensory experience unlike any other in the world.

56 Leonard Street: Sculpting Tribeca's Horizon with Luxury

In the heart of Tribeca, 56 Leonard Street is a sculptural masterpiece, redefining luxury living in the heart of Manhattan. Designed by renowned architects Herzog & de Meuron, this residential tower features a distinctive stacked design that sets it apart from traditional skyscrapers. With its cascading floors and crystalline façade, 56 Leonard Street embodies elegance and sophistication, offering residents a sanctuary of style and comfort amidst the urban hustle and bustle. From its expansive views to its abundant amenities, 56 Leonard Street epitomizes the pinnacle of urban living in the 21st century.

The Whitney Museum of American Art: A Fusion of Creativity and Design

Located in the vibrant Meatpacking District, the Whitney Museum of American Art seamlessly integrates art and architecture in a stunning contemporary setting. Designed by architect Renzo Piano, the museum's light-filled galleries and outdoor terraces provide a dynamic backdrop for showcasing the best of American art. From its iconic cantilevered entrance to its sweeping views of the Hudson River, the Whitney Museum offers visitors a truly immersive experience that celebrates the rich tapestry of American creativity and expression.

VIA 57 West: Redefining Urban Living with Contemporary Flair

VIA 57 West heralds a new era of urban living with its innovative design and prime waterfront location. Designed by Bjarke Ingels Group, this residential building features a striking tetrahedral shape that maximizes natural light and views for its residents. With its landscaped courtyard, state-of-the-art amenities, and unparalleled views of the Hudson River, VIA 57 West offers a modern oasis in the heart of the city, redefining the concept of luxury living for the 21st century.

The Oculus: A Modern Transport Hub Redefining Connectivity

As the centrepiece of the World Trade Center Transportation Hub, The Oculus reimagines the traditional transit hub as a modern architectural marvel. Santiago Calatrava's futuristic structure resembles a soaring bird in flight, symbolizing the city's resilience and innovation. Beneath its sweeping wings, The Oculus houses a bustling transportation hub and retail complex, seamlessly blending form and function to create a dynamic urban space that connects people, ideas, and cultures.

New York City's contemporary architectural landscape is a vibrant tapestry of innovation and creativity, where each structure tells a unique story of ingenuity and inspiration. From iconic landmarks to cutting-edge developments, these architectural marvels redefine the boundaries of design excellence and shape the city's urban fabric.

[my-travel-videos]

Hudson Yards NYC Winter Aerial footage of Hudson Yards New York City. Featuring: The Edge Observation Deck, The Vessel, The Spiral, MSG, Herald… #HudsonYards #Manhattan #NewYorkCity #Travel #TheVessel

[manhattanartinstallation]

Manhattan Art Installation

"Elevate Your Senses: Manhattan's Mesmerizing Art Installations"

Introduction

Manhattan, the heart of New York City, is not only a hub for finance, culture, and fashion but also a breeding ground for some of the most innovative and awe-inspiring art installations in the world. From avant-garde sculptures to interactive digital masterpieces, Manhattan's art scene continually pushes the boundaries of creativity. In this article, we'll take you on a journey through some of the most captivating art installations that have graced the borough's streets and galleries.

The Vessel at Hudson Yards

One of the most iconic and visually striking art installations in Manhattan is "The Vessel" at Hudson Yards. Designed by British architect Thomas Heatherwick, this colossal structure is a spiraling staircase that seems to ascend into the sky. Its futuristic design is not just a piece of art but also a functional public space. Visitors can climb the 154 flights of stairs to enjoy panoramic views of the city, making it a quintessential experience for both art enthusiasts and thrill-seekers.

"Rainbow Room" by Gabriel Barcia-Colombo

Art meets technology at the "Rainbow Room" exhibit by Gabriel Barcia-Colombo. This immersive installation, featured at the New Museum, explores the concept of identity and memory through the lens of social media. Visitors are invited to record short video clips and leave behind a trace of themselves on a spectrum of screens, creating a rainbow of memories. It's an interactive commentary on our digital lives, prompting viewers to question the significance of the content we share online.

The Met Cloisters: Medieval Marvels

The Met Cloisters, a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, transports visitors to the medieval era. Nestled in Fort Tryon Park, this art installation is a treasure trove of European medieval art and architecture. The stunning building itself is a work of art, with its authentic medieval design, gardens, and exquisite collection of medieval European masterpieces, making it a must-visit for history and art lovers alike.

"Wheatfield – A Confrontation" by Agnes Denes

A powerful and thought-provoking installation, "Wheatfield – A Confrontation" by Agnes Denes, was a temporary piece that transformed a barren lot in Lower Manhattan into a thriving two-acre wheat field in the summer of 1982. Denes's work was not only an environmental statement but also a meditation on the relationship between urban development and nature. Though it existed only temporarily, the impact of this installation continues to resonate with viewers.

"Fear Eats the Soul" by Rashid Johnson

Rashid Johnson's "Fear Eats the Soul," a contemporary installation at Hauser & Wirth, explores themes of identity, cultural heritage, and the black experience in America. This art installation is a sensory experience, combining painting, sculpture, and other mediums to convey a powerful message about the challenges and triumphs of marginalized communities. Johnson's work invites viewers to reflect on their own place in society and the world.

Conclusion

Manhattan's art installations are more than just visual spectacles – they're profound statements, interactive experiences, and historical landmarks. They challenge our perspectives, push the boundaries of creativity, and remind us of the enduring power of art to inspire, provoke, and transform. From the towering structure of "The Vessel" to the thought-provoking works of Gabriel Barcia-Colombo, Agnes Denes, and Rashid Johnson, these installations offer a kaleidoscope of experiences for art enthusiasts and culture seekers. In the ever-evolving landscape of Manhattan's art scene, one thing is certain: there is always something fresh, captivating, and thought-provoking waiting around the corner.

Contact Information:

Phone: +(212) 729-6582

E-mail: nycartinstallation01@gmail.com

Visit Our Website: https://nycartinstallation.com/

[taruntravell]

Local Picks - Spectacular Observation Decks in NYC You Cannot Miss

New York City boasts some of the most iconic and spectacular observation decks in the world. Here are some local picks for observation decks in NYC that you absolutely cannot miss:

One World Observatory: Located atop One World Trade Center, this observatory provides breathtaking 360-degree views of Manhattan and beyond. The immersive experience includes a fascinating elevator ride and interactive exhibits.

Empire State Building Observatory: An NYC classic, the Empire State Building's observation deck offers stunning views of the city, especially at sunset. You can also visit the 102nd-floor observatory for even higher views.

Top of the Rock: Situated at Rockefeller Center, Top of the Rock offers a unique perspective of Manhattan. It's known for its unobstructed views of Central Park and a fantastic view of the Empire State Building in the skyline.

Edge: Edge at Hudson Yards is the highest outdoor sky deck in the Western Hemisphere. The triangular glass floor extends beyond the building, providing an exhilarating experience for those looking to see the city from new heights.

The Vessel: While not a traditional observatory, The Vessel at Hudson Yards offers a different kind of experience. You'll ascend a spiral staircase to reach the top, where you can enjoy impressive views of the surrounding architecture and the Hudson River.

Brooklyn Bridge Park - DUMBO: For a unique perspective of Manhattan's skyline, head to Brooklyn Bridge Park in the DUMBO neighborhood. The park offers stunning views of downtown Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty.

The Williamsburg Hotel Rooftop Pool: While not an official observation deck, this rooftop pool in Williamsburg offers some of the best views of Manhattan's skyline. It's a more relaxed and local alternative to the crowded observatories.

Gantry Plaza State Park: Located in Long Island City, Queens, this park offers a peaceful escape with excellent views of Manhattan's East Side, including the United Nations headquarters and the Empire State Building.

Staten Island Ferry: For a budget-friendly option, take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry. It's free and provides fantastic views of the Statue of Liberty and the southern tip of Manhattan.

Bar 65 at Rainbow Room: Located at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, this upscale bar offers stunning views of the city skyline. While it's not a traditional observation deck, it provides a luxurious and unique perspective of the city.

Remember that NYC's observation decks can get crowded, so it's a good idea to book tickets in advance and plan your visit accordingly. Whether you're a visitor or a local, these observation decks offer an unforgettable experience with panoramic views of the city that never sleeps.

[my-weird-news]

HBO's Mind-Blowing Show You Can't Miss! 🤯

John Wilson's Hilarious Guide to Noticing Everyday Oddities in NYC You know that feeling when you're strolling down the street and suddenly you spot a dude lounging on the pavement like he's at a beach resort, right next to a taxi stand? Or when a car decides it's time for a gymnastics routine and ends up doing a flip on a sidewalk? Yeah, welcome to New York City, where everyday absurdity is a way of life. 🚗🏙️ So, there's this show called "How To With John Wilson," and let me tell you, it's like strapping on a pair of quirky goggles and diving headfirst into the randomness of the Big Apple. John Wilson, the mastermind behind the lens, has a knack for turning mundane street scenes into sidesplitting masterpieces. Seriously, it's like watching a documentary on life's B-side. Picture this: John, with a camera glued to his hand, roaming around the city that never sleeps. He's like your quirky friend who always seems to stumble upon bizarre stuff that no one else notices. It's a bit like he's on a mission to give us all a crash course in finding hilarity in everyday life. And boy, does he succeed. The show's like an instructional video on absurdity. The new season kicks off with "How to Find a Public Restroom." Classic, right? But here's the kicker: each episode spirals into a rabbit hole of unexpected connections. It's like your brain is riding a rollercoaster through John's mind. You'll start at public restrooms, but somehow end up at scented bowling balls and energy drink empires. 🎳🥤 What's his secret sauce? Wilson's narration. It's like he's talking directly to you, pulling you into his world of wackiness. One moment he's sharing his college escapades, the next he's giving you advice on how to deal with squeaky brakes. You're practically living inside his camera roll, and trust me, it's a wild ride. 🎢 And don't even get me started on New York's treasure trove of weirdness. Wilson cracks jokes about everything from the Vessel (a staircase that's like, "I'm fancy, but can't go anywhere") to Hudson Yards (the neighborhood you love to hate). It's like he's revealing the city's best-kept secrets, making you feel like a local New Yorker in on the joke. 👓🗽 But here's the kicker: it's not just about the laughs. Beneath the surface, Wilson's sharing his own quirks and stories. It's like he's inviting you into his therapy session where you're both working through awkward childhood memories and grown-up anxieties. It's a like therapy, but with more weirdos. Behind the scenes, Wilson's got a crew that hunts down quirky shots like a pack of scavengers. Imagine getting a list that's like, "Find houses that look like faces." Yeah, it messes with their heads, but hey, it's all for the art of absurdity. They're like the unsung heroes of this hilarity circus. 🤹‍♂️🏡 So, strap in and let John Wilson be your guide to NYC's bizarre underbelly. It's like discovering a new world, except it's the same world you've always known—just with a dash of extra weirdness. Whether you're a born and bred New Yorker or just someone who's dreamt of visiting, this show's like a backstage pass to the city's comedic soul. 🎟️🌆 Catch the latest season on HBO and get ready to snort-laugh your way through John Wilson's uniquely hilarious universe. Who knew the ordinary could be this extraordinary?# John Wilson's Hilarious Guide to Noticing Everyday Oddities in NYC You know that feeling when you're strolling down the street and suddenly you spot a dude lounging on the pavement like he's at a beach resort, right next to a taxi stand? Or when a car decides it's time for a gymnastics routine and ends up doing a flip on a sidewalk? Yeah, welcome to New York City, where everyday absurdity is a way of life. 🚗🏙️ So, there's this show called "How To With John Wilson," and let me tell you, it's like strapping on a pair of quirky goggles and diving headfirst into the randomness of the Big Apple. John Wilson, the mastermind behind the lens, has a knack for turning mundane street scenes into sidesplitting masterpieces. Seriously, it's like watching a documentary on life's B-side. Picture this: John, with a camera glued to his hand, roaming around the city that never sleeps. He's like your quirky friend who always seems to stumble upon bizarre stuff that no one else notices. It's a bit like he's on a mission to give us all a crash course in finding hilarity in everyday life. And boy, does he succeed. The show's like an instructional video on absurdity. The new season kicks off with "How to Find a Public Restroom." Classic, right? But here's the kicker: each episode spirals into a rabbit hole of unexpected connections. It's like your brain is riding a rollercoaster through John's mind. You'll start at public restrooms, but somehow end up at scented bowling balls and energy drink empires. 🎳🥤 What's his secret sauce? Wilson's narration. It's like he's talking directly to you, pulling you into his world of wackiness. One moment he's sharing his college escapades, the next he's giving you advice on how to deal with squeaky brakes. You're practically living inside his camera roll, and trust me, it's a wild ride. 🎢 And don't even get me started on New York's treasure trove of weirdness. Wilson cracks jokes about everything from the Vessel (a staircase that's like, "I'm fancy, but can't go anywhere") to Hudson Yards (the neighborhood you love to hate). It's like he's revealing the city's best-kept secrets, making you feel like a local New Yorker in on the joke. 👓🗽 But here's the kicker: it's not just about the laughs. Beneath the surface, Wilson's sharing his own quirks and stories. It's like he's inviting you into his therapy session where you're both working through awkward childhood memories and grown-up anxieties. It's a like therapy, but with more weirdos. Behind the scenes, Wilson's got a crew that hunts down quirky shots like a pack of scavengers. Imagine getting a list that's like, "Find houses that look like faces." Yeah, it messes with their heads, but hey, it's all for the art of absurdity. They're like the unsung heroes of this hilarity circus. 🤹‍♂️🏡 So, strap in and let John Wilson be your guide to NYC's bizarre underbelly. It's like discovering a new world, except it's the same world you've always known—just with a dash of extra weirdness. Whether you're a born and bred New Yorker or just someone who's dreamt of visiting, this show's like a backstage pass to the city's comedic soul. 🎟️🌆 Catch the latest season on HBO and get ready to snort-laugh your way through John Wilson's uniquely hilarious universe. Who knew the ordinary could be this extraordinary? Read the full article

[ronlouisfoster]

I was intrigued from the very first laying of steel for this structure. This architecture is like nothing in the world. Unfortunately, it's closed for people to enjoy because of several folks using it to commit suicide. This Week's Image Series: What's Uniquely New York City Title: Rising Collective Steps "The extraordinary centerpiece of Hudson Yards is its spiral staircase, a soaring new landmark. This interactive artwork was imagined by Thomas Heatherwick and Heatherwick Studio as a focal point where people can enjoy new perspectives of the city and one another from different heights, angles, and vantage points. Comprised of 154 intricately interconnecting flights of stairs -- almost 2,500 individual steps and 80 landings -- the vertical climb offers remarkable views of the city, the river, and beyond." - Hudson Yards #vessel #thevessel #thevesselnyc #nycgo #thisweeksimageseries #secretnyc #newyorkcity #uniquelynyc #nycig #uniquelynewyorkcity #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #hudsonyard #manhattan (at The Vessel, Hudson Yards, Manhattan NYC) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cg9hVkeLkjj/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Dead, broke

Of all the moving, wrenching accounts of death during the pandemic, Molly McGhee’s “America’s Dead Souls,” for The Paris Review stands out: haunting, furious and sad, an rude awakening of the status quo that denies any possibility of inaction.

https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2021/05/17/americas-dead-souls/

I’ve known McGhee a long time, since she worked on my book INFORMATION DOESN’T WANT TO BE FREE from McSweeneys, a professional association we renewed when she landed at Tor.

During the pandemic crisis, I’ve had two different connections to her: on the one hand, the consummate professionalism of her emails as we published my novel ATTACK SURFACE in the middle of the lockdown.

On the other hand, I knew her through her wrenching and deeply personal Twitter account of the personal tragedies she’s endured over the same period. Her Paris Review essay brings those tragedies into sharp focus and uses them to pin a huge and heretofore ill-defined feeling.

McGhee’s mother died during the crisis, but the death was the culmination of years of hardship: “[earning] less than $10,000 a year. Suffering from debilitating depression while caring for her aging parents…chronically unemployed, undermedicated, and overstressed.”

Her mother’s debts were on public display through searchable databases, and her life was haunted by both con artists and bill collectors who carpet-bombed her with calls, letters and emails.

She was too poor to fight back: her wages were garnished by the IRS “for back taxes calculated from a years-old misfiling they refused to correct.” McGhee sent her months of her salary, but it wasn’t enough.

She had no answer for her mother’s rhetorical questions, “Why are these people harassing me? What good does it do them?”

Because the answer is obvious and insufficient: “The people in power don’t care if we live or die, as long as they get paid.”

It only took two days after McGhee’s mother died for her creditors to begin harassing her for her mother’s debts. The state of Tennessee seized the house, but Wells Fargo expected her to make good on the mortgage.

The hospital where McGhee’s mother died wanted a quarter of a million dollars. McGhee, not even 26, was staring down the barrel of the weapon that had been trained on her mother, the inheritor of nothing but debt.

The debt-machine is efficient. Bill collectors found out about McGhee’s mother’s death before McGhee’s own family got word. And they’re remorseless, immune to McGhee’s “pleading, bargaining, reasoning, denying, uploading, scanning, begging, faxing, and crying.”

McGhee compares it to Gogol’s “Dead Souls,” a surreal tale of a grifter named Chichikov who buys dead serfs’ souls to sell for profit.

It’s only surreal if you’ve never been in the debt system’s crosshairs, “where one day of lost wages can compound into houselessness.”

We live in a system of winners and losers. The winners’ winnings come from debt, shielded from the system’s cruelty by “professionalism and bureaucracy” that insulate them — and their functionaries — from “feelings of culpability, not to mention empathy or curiosity.”

Poor people have less money, but the system is firmly focused poor people, because people with money can defend themselves. When McGhee went into debt to hire a lawyer, a single letter on official letterhead instantly reduced all that debt by 90% — more than $250k, poof.

It’s expensive to be poor. Take Community Health Systems, one of the largest hospital chains in America. It sues the shit out of poor people. When those people can afford lawyers, CHS loses, because it is chasing debts it is not entitled to collect.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/18/unhealthy-balance-sheet/#health-usury

CHS itself owes $7.6 billion. It turned its first profit in 2020, thanks to hundreds of millions of dollars in state and federal subsidies, and its executives pocketed millions in “performance bonuses” for a performance that consisted of getting bailed out by the public.

The Trump stimulus handed trillions to the richest people and biggest companies in America. Those companies “leveraged up” their handouts to raise trillions more and went on spending sprees, buying up struggling businesses.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/17/divi-recaps/#graebers-ghost

They loaded these companies up with debt, declared “divi recaps” (where you take out a loan on a company you bought on credit and put that money in your own pocket as a “special dividend”) and crashed the companies, destroying jobs and communities.

Plutes know there are three kinds of debt: workers’ debts (which must be repaid), owners’ debts (to be “restructured” away) and government debt (not debt at all, but still handy for terrifying normies with stories of “mortgaging our kids’ futures”).

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/17/disgracenote/#false-consciousness

Forty years of this approach has turned the economy into a shambling zombie, dependent on the fiction that “consumer” debts — repackaged as bonds through financialization — will be repaid, somehow.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

As an ever-larger share of the world’s wealth has shifted from the workers’ side of the balance sheet to the owners’, the ability of workers to buy things to keep businesses afloat as vehicles for debt-leveraging has only declined.

Wage-theft and stagnation, unions in retreat, monopoly, monopsony, tax-preferencing for home-owners over renters, for capital gains over wages, spiraling housing, health and education costs, worker misclassification — wages are annihilated before they’re even deposited.

With no wages left over to fund consumption, there’s only debt, and as Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be repaid, won’t be repaid.” CHS can comfortably carry billions in debts, but the sick people it sues for $201 have to choose between rent and medical debt.

Every loan-shark knows how this works. The chump with $500 who owes you $500 and owes the bank $500 needs an incentive to pay you ahead of the bank. To assert the primacy of your claims, you need an arm-breaker.

The digital world has given us all kinds of fantastic new arm-breakers: digital repo men who can brick your car or your phone. It’s automated the once rare practice of evictions, creating eviction mills that run with devastating efficiency.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Creating a debt-instrument — a bond grounded in the payments from other peoples’ debts — requires that you convince investors and bond-rating agencies that your arm-breaker will terrorize the debtors into paying you instead of child-support or grocery bills.

“The cruelty is the point” isn’t ideology, it’s pure description. The system — an artificial life-form constituted as immortal colony organism that uses us as gut flora — runs on competing claims to your debt, and victory consists of terrorizing you more than any rival.

The financiers who practice leveraged buyouts destroy real businesses, ruin lives and hollow out communities. They are feted as “job creators.” The workers who must borrow to close the gap they leave are “deadbeats.” Leveraged buyouts are back, baby.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

If you fret that forgiving student loans and making college free will “saddle our kids with debt,” then you’ve been suckered.

Look. Replacing a system that starts all but the richest children with unserviceable debt with one that doesn’t is liberation, not bondage.

Since Reagan, we’ve been hiking tuition, killing deductions for interest, and shielding student debt from bankruptcy.That’s how you can borrow $79k, pay $190k, still owe $236k, and have 25% taken from every paycheck AND Social Security until you die.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid. Student debts do get forgiven, but only for those highly educated, (potentially) highly productive people who can prove that they have been so thoroughly destroyed by debt that they have no future.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/20/sovkitsch/#student-debt

And as McGhee reminds us, the tragedy isn’t merely that we educate people on the pretense of betting on America’s future, but really, the principle use that the system makes of the educated is as collateral for securitized loans.

If the arm-breakers who chased her mother wanted to understand that woman’s humanity, McGhee says they should start here:

“Her humor and her rage were unmatched. In the evenings, against the setting Tennessee sun, she liked to drink red can Cokes in the garden while snuffing cigarettes out against the yard’s ant colonies. She could reckon with anyone just by looking them in the eye. Men were terrified of her, rightfully so. She was sweet. In the last week of her life, when she couldn’t understand where she was or who she was talking to, she greeted everyone the same: ‘Hi, pal. Hope you’re doing okay. When can you come pick me up?’”

Take a second. Re-read that.

[archatlas]

The Vessel, the spiraling staircase at Hudson Yards on Manhattan’s Far West Side, was closed to visitors on Tuesday, a day after a 21-year-old man jumped to his death in the third suicide in less than a year.

It was unclear when the 150-foot structure, the vast development’s centerpiece, would reopen to the public. A spokesman for Related Companies, the developer of Hudson Yards, said that the structure was “temporarily closed” and that the firm was consulting with suicide-prevention experts, including psychiatrists, about how to limit the potential for more suicides.

[hadi628]

THE VESSEL AT HUDSON YARDS

What is Hudson Yards? Hudson Yards is a massive mixed-use development covering a massive acres on the west side of Midtown Manhattan at 10th Avenue and 33rd Street, just near the Hudson River.

At Hudson Yards' center is The Vessel, a ten-story tall, copper-clad sculpture that you can climb via intersecting staircases.  It is an extraordinary centerpiece of Hudson Yards and a soaring new landmark where people can enjoy new perspectives of the city from different heights, angles and vantage points.

The Vessel is probably one of the most unusual buildings you will ever see. It’s part structure and part sculpture. It took two years to get this beautiful piece of art come to life. The Vessel was inspired by a British designer, Thomas Heatherwick. This new landmark opened to the public in March 2019. The Vessel looks like a honeycomb and is the newest Instagram hotspot for all.

What is The Vessel really? The Vessel is practically a spiral open-air staircase. You can climb up or take the elevator to enjoy the views of the city and the Hudson river. It is made up of 2,500 steps. There are no benches for sitting, so it is pretty much in and out experience. The Vessel itself does not offer any activities, but you will find lots of things to do around in Hudson Yards. The site is home to more than hundreds diverse shops and culinary experiences, offices, and public art. It is also home to an art center The Shed, and Edge, the tallest observation deck in the Western hemisphere. Other establishments include modern residences, huge acres of public plazas, gardens, groves, and the world’s first Equinox Hotel.

The Vessel is open every day from 10 am to 9 pm. You can visit it for free, though you must get a ticket. Reserve in advance or even better obtain a Flex Pass for a USD 10 convenience fee. The problem with general attendance is that there is a very limited number of free tickets that can be reserved online. Also, when you reserve in advance through the official website, you will have to pick a specific date and time. With a Flex or sightseeing pass, you can just show up any time, any day.

Is it worth the visit? Absolutely yes! The Vessel is an impressive sight and deserves recognition for its artistry and stunning views. It is also one of the best NYC spots for photography. The Vessel is gaining popularity and becoming a magnet for tourism. We’re happy we visited.

Watch the video of the Hudson Yards opening ceremony.

There's so much more to see and do. Click here.

¹ˢᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁴ᵗʰ ᵖʰᵒᵗᵒˢ ᶜᵒᵘʳᵗᵉˢʸ ᵒᶠ ᴴᵘᵈˢᵒⁿ Yᵃʳᵈˢ

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! How you’re doing? First of all, I wanna say that I love your lists. So, I was wondering, do you have some long Johnlock fics? Like, with a bunch of chapters and all that. Thank you!

Hey Nonny!! 

I absolutely do! And you know what?? I’m gonna be selfish: No one has ever EVER asked me for my shorter long fics, so I’m going to take this opportunity to finally release this list, because it’s been sitting in my drafts for YEARS lol. BUT you can check the list below for the links to all my longer-fics lists! Happy reading!!

NOVELLA LENGTH FICS: 20-25K

See also:

Novella Length Fics: 25 to 50K (Aug. 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K (Nov. 2018)

Novel Length Fics: 50 to 100K Pt 2 (May 2020)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. (May 2019)

Novel Length Fics: 100K+ w. Pt 2 (Aug 2020)

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

The White Lotuses by SilentAuror (E, 20,340 w., 1 Ch. || Slow Burn, Domestic, Romance) – One day John realises that he just isn't where he belongs, which is back at Baker Street with Sherlock. So he goes back and Sherlock, in his own way, courts him. Romance.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

You're On the Air by prettysailorsoldier (M, 20,616 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Matchmaking, Radio, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Flirting, Bisexual John) – The Consulting Detective and The Woman dominate the airwaves of their university radio station, doling out advice on everything from meeting the parents to sexual positions. When their ratings start to dip before the holidays, however, manager Mike thinks it's time for some fresh blood, and who better to fill in the gaps than rugby captain--and notorious flirt--John Watson? Part 1 of 25 Days of Johnlock

whiskies neat by Ellipsical (E, 20,660 w., 15 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, POV Second Person Sherlock, Slow Burn, One Night Stand, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, Soldier John, Crying, Emotional Lovemaking, Switchlock) – Home and hearth and whiskies neat, or, alternatively, Sherlock Holmes falls in love.

Achieving the Together-Coloured Instant by teahigh (E, 20,776 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel, PTSD, Codependency, Fluff & Angst, H/C, Smut, Demisexual Sherlock, Experiments) – John wonders if this is how it’s going to be: A life speaking in code, because they’re both too stupid to figure out how to say, “I love you.”

Winter's Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w., 1 Ch. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter's Delights

Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T, 21,178 w., 7 Ch. || John’s Family, Fake Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Humour) – To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues.

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson's urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

echoes through time by chellefic (E, 21,619 w. || First Time, Romance, ACD & BBC, Epistolary) – Mummy sends a trunk from the Holmes cottage in Sussex to 221B. Its contents alter the way John and Sherlock see themselves and one another.

The Real Meaning of Idioms by feverishsea (T, 21,691 w., 1 Ch. || Texting, Humour, Post S2) - After two weeks away, John finally texts Sherlock. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to respond. He doesn’t expect Sherlock to keep texting him. And he really doesn’t expect things to spiral out of control so rapidly.

5 Times John Got the Girl (and lost her) and 1 Time John Got the Guy (and kept him) by LiviKate (M, 21,695 w., 6 Ch. || 5 and Ones, Kissing, Oblivious / Awkward Sherlock, BAMF / Sexy / Stud John, Embarassed John, John’s Scar, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Sherlock) – John has always had good luck with the ladies. He's charming, friendly and funny, not to mention great in bed. However, his usual skill with the opposite sex is constantly being thwarted by Sherlock and his outbursts. How will John ever get a leg over when Sherlock is always cockblocking him?

Brief Conversations with the Woman by May_Shepard (E, 21,906 w., 20 Ch. || Pining, Love Fairy Irene, Filler Fic, UST/URT, Drug Use, Clueless Sherlock, Relationship Advice, Angst w/ Happy Ending) – Sherlock has a puzzle to solve, and his name is John Watson.

When to Let Go by KendylGirl (M, 22,109 w., 8 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Reverse Reichenbach, Sacrifice, Forgiveness, Angst, Love, Implied Drug Use) – What if it were John who had to die to thwart Moriarty's plans? John's supposed death shatters Sherlock, and when he returns, it will challenge the pair to forge a path of forgiveness, to peace, and to find a way back to each other. Part 1 of When to Let Go

A Shipless Ocean by myswordfishmind (M, 22,135 w. 4 Ch. || Post-TRF, John has a Kid) – Ten years after the fall Sherlock goes back to London to find that John no longer lives there. Instead, he resides in a seaside town, a widower, and the father of a seven year old son. Now, Sherlock must struggle with the fact that there may no longer be a place for him in this new world.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

The One With the Proposal by kim47 (E, 22,375 w., 3 Ch. || Fluff, Romance, Marriage Proposal) – Proposing shouldn't be this difficult.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Dear John by wendymarlowe (E, 23,031 w., 64 Ch. || Post-TRF, Online Dating, Pining, Epistolary, Cybersex, Long Distance Romance) – With Sherlock dead, John eventually (under duress) makes a profile on an online dating site. And falls into a long-distance relationship with an enigmatic partner who reminds him of Sherlock in all the right ways. (Hint: it turns out to be Sherlock.) Part 1 of Dear John

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w., 4 Ch. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Mastrubation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock's case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he's pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, 23,584 w., 9 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Drama, Fluff & Angst, Humour, Romance) – Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And "Anthea", too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse

Once Upon a Beast Becoming by antietamfalls (T, 24,042 w., 6 Ch. || Beauty and the Beast AU || Magical Realism, Folklore, Celtic Mythology) – An act of pride, a druid’s curse, an enchanted leaf; Sherlock’s torment has lasted an age. Hope arrives in the form of one John Watson, a man uniquely suited to break the spell. But with a single night to win his affections, Sherlock finds his carefully laid plans disrupted by a monstrous killer whose sights are set on the only thing he has left to lose: John.

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Maintaining A Personal Life by Gingerhermit (E, 24,284 w., 6 Ch. || Alternating POV’s, Bisexuality, BAMF!John, Jealous Sherlock, Romance / Drama, Sort-of Case Fic, Peril & Angst, Love Confessions, Toplock, Soft Idiots in Love, Post S3) – Sherlock and John discover some interesting revelations about each other’s sexuality, which lead them both to question the assumptions they've made about one another for years. In the midst of their mutual discoveries, a dangerous psychopath looms on the side-lines who threatens to destroy their new beginning.

The Sexual Awakening of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson by suitesamba (M, 24,579 w., 10 Ch. || Post-TRF, Case Fic, H/C, First Kiss/Time) – Sherlock owes Mycroft a favor. Mycroft calls in that favor by offering Sherlock's consulting services in a charity auction. Sherlock and John soon find themselves at the country manor of Mrs. Ives-Patton Smarmington III - not very coincidentally a long-time friend of Sherlock's mother - where they are reluctant participants in her Murder Mystery Weekend. It's a play within a play for Sherlock and John, and their roles for the weekend event bleed over into their real lives, waking the sleeping dragons within.

Tomorrow's Song by agirlsname (M, 24,645 w., 5 Ch. || Post-TRF, POV Sherlock, Angst with a Happy Ending, Virgin / Repressed Sherlock, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Pining, Jealous Sherlock) – How can he think a relationship with me would be a good idea? I am the sort of person to take a break from my life and when I come back after two years, I expect to find it exactly as I left it. In reality I find it shattered to pieces. (I actually equate you with my life. When did I start doing that?)

State of Flux by Atiki (E, 24,655 w., 4 Ch. || Sherlock POV, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Cuddles and Snuggles, Awkwardness, Insecure/Virgin Sherlock, Romance) – John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they're both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

[wheresmynaya]

Lost in the Lights Ch.1 | Brittana

Looks like I’m back at it again! Honestly it’s only because it’s currently (American) football season and I’ve been wanting to write QB!Britt for SO LONG and Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince gave me lots of feelings about it.

 Also the Steelers are still undefeated so I’ve been in a good mood. 

Summary: Brittany S. Pierce is new to WMHS and quickly finds that the students there aren't as open-minded as the ones she's used to, especially when she takes over as the Titans' starting quarterback. Many heads are turned including Cheerios Co-Captain Santana Lopez who has some obstacles of her own to tackle.

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) 

Once Brittany taped up the last box and set it aside for the movers to take, she took the rare moment she had alone and reminisced. She knew this day was bound to come. Since her father’s passing earlier in the year, Brittany’s mother – Whitney – had begun making the arrangements to move closer to Brittany’s grandparents in Ohio. Aside from a handful of friends, they didn’t really have anyone else close by and with Brittany’s little brother – Pete – still too young to stay home alone and Brittany busy with school, Whitney needed the extra help.

The move made sense, but Brittany dreaded it in silence. She was going into her Senior year and being the new kid at school wasn’t how she planned on spending it. She kept her feelings in check though as she boxed up her whole life and said goodbye.

Brittany didn’t want to make things harder by digging in her heels, so she put on a brave face for the sake of her family and finished her Junior year without making any complaints. Instead, Brittany did everything she could to help make the transition a little easier.

With a light knock on Brittany’s door, Whitney made her presence known.

“You ready to go, Britt?” Whitney asked gently.

Brittany could feel her throat tightening. Was she ready? The answer was obvious and deep down, Whitney knew that. She closed the distance and gave her daughter a hug.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Whitney whispered.

Brittany just nodded and held on tighter.

\\

It had been a long drive and it seemed like everything started to look a little greener the further they got from the coast. Even the trees changed from the bushy palms Brittany grew up with to tall oaks, but after what felt like a million hours the Pierce Family finally made it to their destination.

“It’s a good looking house, right kids?” Whitney asked cheerfully as the family stretched their achy limbs in front of their new home.

It wasn’t anything special, just a typical three bedroom, two bath. The siding was white, the shutters were blue and the wooden fence looked relatively knew. At a quick glance, the house looked like any other on the block. Brittany didn’t have any complaints though and when she glanced down at Pete, neither did he.

“It’s cute,” Brittany agreed with a smile then nudged her brother, “What do you think, Petey?”

“I like the windows,” Pete pointed up at the shutters, “Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Mine too,” Brittany winked.

“Well, go pick your rooms,” Whitney instructed.

She didn’t get a chance to tell them that they were the exact same size, one just faces the backyard and the other faces the front. The two took off towards the house giggling the whole way while Whitney just shook her head and trailed after them.

\\

It took them a couple weeks to settle into their new place with the help of Brittany’s grandparents, but it was finally starting to feel like home even if she felt like something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

Some nights she could hear the soft whimpers coming from her mother’s room and some nights Petey makes his way into Brittany’s bed because the dreams keep him up at night. Everyone misses him and that makes the transition a little harder. The nights are usually hard for everyone, but they manage to get by together.

It’s better during the day when it’s light out and there’s less time to overthink things. An Ohio summer has nothing on a Florida one, but Brittany doesn’t complain about that either. She can catch a tan wherever the sun shines, so she does just that.

She and Pete find a park within walking distance of their house and visit often while Whitney is out job hunting. Most days, Pete has more energy than Brittany can keep up with so the park really comes in handy. On the rare occasion, Pete sometimes would rather sit with Brittany on a blanket under one of the big trees there and color.

Sometimes, Brittany joins him because as Pete would say, “You’re never too old for coloring.”

\\

One day while they’re at the park, Brittany spots a couple of guys that look to be around her age. They’re a little ways away, tossing a football back and forth. She can just barely hear their voices, but they’re muffled and mix with the sound of her music playing from her phone.

“How’s this look, Britt?” Pete asks as he holds up his coloring book.

Brittany nods, “Excellent color choice for the hair.”

“I thought so too,” Pete grins and goes back to his scribbling while Brittany lazily flips through the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.

She switches from reading articles to watching the guys play. She notes their form and posture and she can’t help but critique them. Their throws are pretty average, but they aren’t too bad and she goes back to reading.

“Watch out!” Brittany hears one of the guys yell. She braces herself and holds out a protective arm over Pete’s head. Soon a football bounces down just a couple feet away from her blanket and rolls to a wobbly stop beside her.

“Way to go, Sam! You almost hit them,” The lean guy yells back to the shaggy-haired blonde.

“I thought you had that!”

“It was overthrown! Do you think I’m seven feet tall?”

“You could’ve jumped.”

“This is why you’re third string when we don’t even have a second.”

“Whatever Mike, I’m just having an off day,” The blonde grumbles as he trails his friend.

“You always say that,” Mike shakes his head and starts to jog over to Brittany and Pete, “Sorry about that!”

“That’s alright,” Brittany smiles as she reaches for the ball and pushes to stand. The leather feels familiar in her hands and it’s just now that she realizes she hasn’t picked up a ball in so long. Her fingers automatically slide into position between the laces though like they’re magnets being drawn together.

Brittany sets her eyes on Mike and draws her arm back to throw a perfect spiral.

The pass connects with the intended target – obviously – but the looks on both of the guys’ faces is priceless. Brittany smiles proudly as they whoop and holler. She didn’t realize she kind of misses that.

“Show off,” Pete teases though he matches her proud smile.

“That was an awesome throw!” Mike applauds as he rushes over, “Like Woah! Sorry, I’m Mike. That’s my friend, Sam.”

Sam’s still a little ways away but he waves as he jogs over, his blonde shaggy hair bouncing with every step. He kind of reminds Brittany of a golden retriever, eager and a little dorky.

“I’m Brittany,” Brittany greets and pats Pete’s head, “This is my brother, Pete. We just moved here.”

“Oh, I think we’re neighbors!” Mike grins, “The house with the blue shutters?”

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Sam finally joins the group, “Great throw! Can you do that again?”

Brittany shrugs casually, “Yeah. Probably.”

Mike and Sam drop their jaws in disbelief.

“My sister’s a quarterback,” Pete informs them, “She’s the best at school.”

“I was the best at our old school,” Brittany corrects and ruffles up his blonde hair.

“You were a,” Sam blinks, “I’ve never met a girl quarterback.”

Brittany tries to keep from gritting her teeth at the way he says girl. She knows he didn’t mean any disrespect, but it still makes her skin crawl. She forgets that some places aren’t as progressive as her old school, so she keeps the polite smile on her face.

“You have to try out,” Sam insists, “You’re better than half of those guys and no girl has ever tried out before. It would be so cool!”

“You saw me throw one time,” Brittany chuckles.

“Exactly, that’s how much we suck!”

“Hey!” Mike shakes his head and gives Brittany an encouraging smile, “You’d be great on the team.”

Mike seems genuine enough, they both do, but Brittany’s unsure of how she’ll be received here. She’s already going to be the new kid in school, she didn’t really want to add on to that by being the first girl to try out for the team.

“I don’t know,” Brittany looks unsure and glances down at Pete, “I wasn’t planning on playing this year.”

“You’ve got to,” Mike adds, “You have a killer arm.”

“Would totally bench Hudson,” Sam jokes with Mike.

Mike nods, “Without a doubt.”

“Is Hudson your current QB?” Brittany wonders.

“Yeah, for three years and we haven’t made a single playoffs appearance,” Sam answers with the shake of his head.

“Sam was going to try and play him for the starting position,” Mike explains, “Clearly he needs some work though.”

Sam scoffs and punches at Mike’s shoulder.

“Clearly,” Brittany chuckled. She liked these guys. They were kind of dorks but harmless and they seemed friendly.

“Well, we don’t want to pressure you if you don’t want to play,” Mike says a little more seriously, “But if you change your mind, try-outs are next Tuesday at William McKinley High at noon. See Coach Beiste.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brittany replies, “Thanks.”

“Cool. Well, how about one more for the road?” Mike suggests and holds out the ball to Brittany.

Brittany was happy to oblige and slaps her palm against the leather, “Go long.”

The guys took off running, playfully shoving at each other as Brittany took her stance and got into position. She let them get a few more yards further before drawing back and letting the ball fly.

Again, it was a perfect throw.

When Sam caught it this time, Mike cheered while Sam did a celebratory dance. It wasn’t the smoothest thing Brittany had ever seen, but it was the funniest and it had her and Pete laughing harder than they had in awhile.

\\

That night at the dinner table with Whitney, Pete talked animatedly about his and Brittany’s day. Brittany always loved how excited he got about the smallest things and he always told stories with so much detail. They were worried that it would fade with their dad’s passing but Pete was still so full of love and light.

“We made friends at the park today too!” Pete said which piqued Whitney’s interest.

“Oh really?” Whitney smiled and looked to Brittany, “Making friends already?”

“I wouldn’t call them that,” Brittany chuckled as she picked mindlessly at her plate, “A couple guys from the high school here were playing catch. Apparently one of them is our neighbor too.”

“Mike!” Pete clarified.

“Yeah, Mike and Sam. They tried talking me into trying out for the football team,” Brittany explained, “I don’t think I’m going to play this year though.”

“What? Why not?” Whitney asked worriedly, “You’ve played every year since middle school.”

“I know, but I want to be able to help out here if you need me to,” Brittany reasons and glances over at Pete, “I don’t want to get stuck with football like I always do.”

“You love it, Britt, and you’re good at it,” Whitney tells her, “You should try out.”

“What about Pete?” Brittany questions, “No one will be home when he finishes school.”

“Gran will pick him up,” Whitney suggests easily.

“But – “

“No buts,” Whitney gives her a stern look, “It’s your Senior year and you love the game. If you want to play, you should. Isn’t that what your dad always said?”

Brittany feels something clench in the pit of her stomach and she isn’t sure if it’s a good feeling or a bad one. She can still hear her dad’s voice gently guiding her and maybe that’s what helps her decide this time too.

“Okay yeah, I’ll try out,” Brittany announces and it’s the first time she finally feels like herself again since moving to Ohio.

\\

It’s a muggy Summer’s day when Brittany arrives at her new school for try-outs. She can already feel all eyes on her as she walks through the gate and joins the others on the field. She spots Mike and Sam with a few others and they wave at her while the others give her curious looks. Brittany gives them a nod but stays focused. It feels like it’s a hundred degrees there, but she’s use to the heat after growing up in Florida. She stands tall with her chin held high as she makes her way over to the Coach.

She’s pleasantly surprised when she finds that the Coach is also a woman.

“Coach Beiste?”

“Cheerios try-outs are held in the gym,” The woman tells her without a second glance.

Brittany bites her lip and tries to shake the nerves, “I’m not here for a cereal ad, Coach. I want to try-out for the team.”

The woman pauses and eyes Brittany curiously as she says, “This is football try-outs.”

“I know,” Brittany nods resolutely, “I’ve played before.”

“Position?”

“Quarterback.”

Coach looks impressed, “What string?”

Brittany smirks, “I was the starter.”

The woman blinks and it’s similar to the look Sam gave her.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce.”

“You just move here or something?” Beiste asks as she jots down Brittany’s name on the clipboard, “I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yes,” Brittany nods, “I just moved here from Florida.”

“Alright. Well, you won’t get any special treatment on my field,” Beiste tells her sternly, “You’ll run the drills, same as everyone else and I’ll see how you go. You throw up, it’s an automatic out.”

“Of course,” Brittany grins, “I don’t want it any other way.”

\\

It’s no surprise to Brittany when she aces try-outs. She’s always been pretty athletic and she starts every morning with a run so she’s in tip-top shape and breezes through the drills. Even the team’s resident quarterback – Finn Hudson – struggles to keep up with the others. Brittany notes how uncoordinated his movements are and starts to understand why the team hasn’t made a playoff appearance.

Finn’s saving grace though is that he has a pretty good arm, but Brittany is confident that hers is better. Actually, she knows it is. If they’re going to compare stats, Brittany has him beat in every category but she lets her talent speak for itself. No one likes a cocky new kid on the block.

“You’re promising, Pierce,” Coach Beiste tells her after the third day of try-outs, “Between you and me, you can run circles around Hudson and I have no doubt you can outshine him.”

“I appreciate that, Coach.”

“But, he’s been our starter for nearly three years now. He’s got the team’s respect and trust,” Coach Beiste reasons.

Brittany nods. She hates how she has to start from scratch here. At her old school, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, they just knew she was talented because they grew up with her. Here, they don’t know anything about her and that puts her at a real disadvantage.

“You can’t just come in like a bat outta hell and snatch it from him,” Coach continues, “You’re going to have to play for it; prove yourself to me and the team that you can do a better job. You’ve got to really earn this.”

Brittany saw that coming too so she nods, “I understand.”

“I took a look at your record. I hope you don’t mind,” Coach Beiste says, “It’s very impressive, Pierce. I haven’t seen talent like yours in awhile around here. I almost forgot what it was like to see stats like yours.”

“Thank you. I’ve been playing for a long time.”

“I can tell, so this is what I’m going to do. There’s a pre-season game coming up,” Beiste tells her, “I want to put you in, see what you can do. If I like what I see, you might just be able to nudge Hudson out. There are a lot of Seniors on this team, I know they’d love to see the Championships and I think you can get them there.”

“I know I can,” Brittany says without a second thought.

Coach pats her hard on the shoulder pad, “That’s what I like to hear. Go get cleaned up.”

\\

While Brittany gets packed up a little while later, she feels someone standing close by. She waits for some off-handed comment – she’s heard a few of the guys mumble them under their breath – but it never comes. She figures it’s either Mike or Sam but when she turns, it’s neither of them.

“Hi,” The guy greets. His voice is meek, almost angelic and it takes Brittany by surprise.

“Hi,” Brittany smiles back though as she stands.

“I’m Kurt,” He says and does a showy kick, “I’m the kicker.”

Brittany notes his small stature compared to the other guys. There’s not an ounce of muscle on him it looks like, typical for someone on special teams.

“I’m Brittany,” She replies, “Not sure what I am just yet.”

“I hope you’re going to be our knew QB,” Kurt grins and takes a seat next to Brittany’s duffle as she continues packing up, “I’m rooting for you. I know there are a few others that are too, they just don’t want you to know about it. I don’t really understand the point, we all want to win.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” Kurt nods and starts to admire Brittany’s keychain, “Oh! We play for the same team.”

“Obviously or this would be pretty embarrassing,” Brittany says with a straight face.

“No, I meant – “

Brittany grins slyly as she watches his face turn red. She glances down at her rainbow unicorn keychain in his hand and meets his gaze, “I know what you meant.”

Kurt laughs it off awkwardly and tries to recover, “It’s nice to finally have someone to talk to on the team.”

Brittany can hear just a hint of sadness in his tone and looks up, “They don’t talk to you?”

“They do, but it’s not the same. We don’t have much in common. All they want to talk about are video games and hot chicks,” Kurt scrunches his nose like there’s a bad taste in his mouth but then he looks at Brittany and relaxes, “Then again, you might be able to relate with that last one.”

Brittany chuckles as she reties up her hair, “You think so?”

Kurt eyes her and nods to the keychain again, “I don’t know many female quarterbacks that are straight. Actually, I don’t know any female quarterbacks.” Kurt ponders for a moment then looks to Brittany apologetically, “I’m sorry, that was intrusive. I apologize.”

Brittany gives him a pat on the knee as she stands. She pulls up her heavy duffle and adjusts the strap on her shoulder, “You’re not wrong, but I’m here to play football. Not drool over girls, no matter how pretty they are.”

Kurt smiles, “Good to hear. It would be nice to win for a change.”

“I’ll do my best,” Brittany tells him, “I’ll see you at practice.”

\\

Whitney and Pete are in the stands along with Brittany’s grandparents on the day of the game against Crawford County Day. Brittany’s been sitting on the bench for a whole quarter and her knees are bouncing at the opportunity to get on the field.

She watches her team in action and it’s almost embarrassing how ununified they are. It’s like no one’s taking charge – no one’s leading – and it hurts to watch.

“Blitz! Blitz!” Coach yells, “Watch the blitz!”

Brittany can see it coming, but Finn doesn’t change plays.

The ball is hiked and Finn hands it off to their Running Back – Noah Puckerman – but the defense slips through from all sides. Puckerman is swallowed up in an instant.

It’s a loss of three yards, third down.

Brittany glances over at Coach and her face is beet red.

The next play is even worse. It’s meant to be a simple slant pass, but the lack of communication between Finn and the receivers – Mike and Sam – has everyone on different pages. When Finn drops back, no one is open and the pocket collapses in on him for a sack.

Brittany cringes at the hard hit and shakes her head.

“Damn it, Hudson!” Coach snaps and throws her hat on the ground.

The Titans finish the half down by 13 points.

\\

It’s the longest twenty-minute halftime Brittany has ever endured. Coach just tears into the team for being so sloppy. Apparently Crawford County Day is meant to be one of the easiest teams on their roster so the fact that the Titans are behind already isn’t really a good sign.

“Good thing this is just a scrimmage!” Beiste yells, “I’ve never seen so many poorly executed plays in my entire career. What the hell was that out there?”

“They’ve gotten better, Coach.”

Brittany presses her lips tight together to keep from laughing at Finn’s excuse.

“I am captain of the U.S.S. Kick Ass, not the U.S.S. Back Talk,” Beiste said pointedly and looked at Brittany, “Pierce, your starting.”

“Wait, Coach!” Finn argued, “You can’t start her, she’s…she’s –“

Brittany arched her brow at him, waiting for a lame insult to come tumbling out.

“She’s gunning for your job, Hudson,” Beiste cut in.

“You can’t be serious!” Finn crossed his arms, “We don’t even know if she can play.”

“You just keep your eyes on me then,” Brittany smirked as she pulled on her helmet, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Woah!” Sam cheered and high fived Mike.

“Shut up,” Puck shoved at them both, “Have some respect.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kurt replied meekly.

Puck rounded on him, “What was that, Hummel?”

Kurt just lifted a dainty hand and admired his nails quietly.

Brittany just smirked. Maybe she didn’t have the entire team on her side yet, but she liked her odds so far.

\\

At first, things were a little rocky. It seemed that the offense wasn’t use to someone taking charge – they weren’t use to her taking charge – but Brittany kept at it and it started to pay off.

Once she got into her groove, she could read the defense so easily and adjust accordingly. She’d hear the grunts of disbelief whenever she’d call an audible, but by the last quarter she felt like she had finally made ground and gained some of the team’s trust.

Because by the last quarter, the Titans were up by 3 points.

She could play it safe with just seconds to go, but this was just a scrimmage and she wanted to make a lasting impression. She didn’t just want to win with a field goal attempt, she was confident that she could put more points on the board before the final.

Brittany straightened up and motioned for a timeout. The ref blew the whistle and Brittany gathered the team for a huddle. She took out her mouthguard and looked around at her teammates.

“I want to try Blue 80,” Brittany tells them.

“You’re ballsy, Pierce!” Matt Rutherford – the Tight End – said but it came out as a compliment.

Mike and Sam looked between each other before Mike spoke up, “We’ve never made a completion with this play.”

“Guess we should change that,” Brittany shrugged.

“You really want to blow the lead?” Dave Karofsky – the Right Guard – mocked.

“It’s the last play of the game,” Sam defended, “The worse that could happen is it gets intercepted and they run it all the way –“

“Shut up, Evans!” Azimio – the Left Guard – snapped, “Don’t jinx us.”  

“It’s all or nothing,” Brittany reasoned, “Scared QBs don’t make plays and I think we can put more points on the board. You with me?”

She held out her gloved fist and waited for the other’s to join her.

Puck was the first to hold out his fist, “You pull this off, Pierce, and I’ll tell Finn myself that you’re the better QB.”

“You’re on,” Brittany smirked and watched as the rest of the team joined her, “Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!” They yelled out in unison. Brittany was impressed, she was already making them a more cohesive team.

\\

Everyone got into their positions, what looked to be a simple running play. The defense fell right for it and adjusted accordingly. When the ball was snapped, Brittany faked the hand off to Puck and swiftly dropped back, watching as the other team went after him instead of realizing she still had the ball in her possession.

Meanwhile, Mike and Sam broke away from their defenders and jetted up the field. Both were wide open, but Mike crossed into the endzone just before Sam did. While the pocket still held, Brittany made her decision and let the ball fly before it could collapse in on her.

She hoped and wished and prayed to anyone who was listening that Mike would catch this thing. So much was riding on this; the team’s trust, their respect, solidifying her position as the new quarterback. Mike needed to catch this.

The relief she felt when he did was unmatched!

The crowd roared and Brittany’s chest swelled with pride. She glanced up at the sky and smiled, her dad would’ve loved that play.

Soon she was swarmed by her new team and they hoisted her up on their shoulders as they chanted her name, “Pierce! Pierce! Pierce!”

“Hate to say it, bro,” Puck said as they carried Brittany off to the sideline where Finn was close to throwing a tantrum, “But the girl’s got mad skill. She’s got my vote.”

“Who cares about a vote. That’s not how we do things,” Finn scoffs, “It’s up to Coach.”

“Easy, Hudson, you could learn a lot from her. Kid’s on fire,” Coach Beiste smiled proudly and patted Brittany on her helmet, “You got the job, Pierce. Titans, your new quarterback.”

“Thanks, Coach!” Brittany grinned while most of the team cheered.

\\

After the game once everyone had changed out of their uniforms, Brittany was surprised to see Puck approach her with an interesting offer.

“Yo Pierce! Wait up,” He called after her.

“Hey,” Brittany nodded.

“I’m throwing a party this weekend before school starts up again,” He says, “I wasn’t going to invite you because didn’t know if you were cool yet.”

Brittany gives him an unbelieving look but it goes over his head.

“The whole team’s going and considering you’re our QB now I figured it was only right that I let you in on it,” Puck then gave her a sly grin, “Lots of hot babes will be there if that’s your thing. Is it your thing?”

Brittany chose to ignore the question, “Thanks for the invite. I’ll try to swing by if I can.”

“Not to brag, but my parties are usually pretty awesome,” Puck flaunted, “If you want to start off on the right foot at this school – being the new kid and all – you’re gonna want to show up.”

She couldn’t decide if that was meant to be a threat or that he just sucks at persuading, but Brittany shrugged it off. She was beginning to get the impression that Lima might live up to the stereotype of being a small town.

Brittany didn’t waver though, “I’ll keep that in mind, Puck. I’ll see you around.”

\\\\\

As a Cheerios Co-Captain, Santana Lopez knew that there were certain social obligations that she had to keep up with. One of those obligations being the End of Summer party Puck always threw. Only the top dogs of McKinley were allowed to attend and if you didn’t it was basically social suicide.

With everything that happened last year, Santana couldn’t afford to miss it no matter how much she hated going. It was like her reputation had been in freefall and she was barely holding on. She couldn’t have that – not for her Senior year – so she sucked it up and told her parents she was sleeping over her best friend’s house.

Quinn Fabray – the other Co-Captain of the Cheerios – was the only person it seemed like that kept Santana sane. They considered themselves the hottest bitches McKinley had to offer and most of the student body couldn’t help but agree. They had the looks, the smarts, the snark; they were the perfect duo and were set on ruling the school.

Santana hoped that last year was just a minor blip in their legacy. She had high hopes coming into Senior year, she already felt like she had hit rock bottom and she was over feeling sorry for herself.

The best way to feel on top again? Attend Puck’s party.

Of course, it was easier said than done.

\\

The music is loud and there are people everywhere. Honestly, Santana has no idea how these things have never been shut down. She thinks maybe the dopes down at the Lima Police Department are just too swamped with real crime-fighting to deal with Puck and his shenanigans for the millionth time.  

That’s obviously a joke. Nothing interesting ever happens in Lima, the LPD are just a bunch of lazy fucks who apparently don’t care about a couple dozen kids drinking underage.

Santana sits with Quinn at the edge of Puck’s pool and they just people-watch as they dangle their feet in the cool water. It’s a hot night and there are already a couple drunken idiots wading in the shallow end, singing along to the music at the top of their lungs.

She looks down at her red solo cup and swirls the amber liquid. She barely has a buzz so she takes another gulp in hopes that she’ll catch up and finally start enjoying the party.

Quinn watches her wearily but does the same. Neither of them want to be there but appearances are important, especially to them.

Speaking of appearances, Santana spots a leggy blonde across the way through the glass double-doors. She’s dressed casually in cut-off jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Santana raises her brow; she wishes she could show up to a party looking like that. It took her an hour alone to do her make up, let alone pick out the right outfit.

Santana continues to watch her – though she feels a little weird for it. She’s never seen the girl around here before and decides that’s the reason why she can’t take her eyes off of her – she’s just curious. A little piece of her deep down inside calls her out for lying.

Still, Santana just assumes the blonde came with one of the football players since that’s who she seems to gravitate to. She notices the familiar faces from the football team – Sam Evans in particular – and watches as he hands the blonde a red cup.

The girl smiles in return and wow, Santana’s a little star-struck by its brilliance. Sam must’ve said something dorky because now the girl’s laughing and shaking her head at him. Santana’s never seen someone so effortlessly beautiful and she has to bite her cheek to keep from smiling too. This girl, she has one of those infection kind of smiles and it’s trouble.

Mike Chang walks up next and clinks his cup against the girl’s and together they begin to chat.

Santana quickly glances to Quinn to catch her reaction. Mike and Quinn aren’t exactly official, but it’s obvious they have a thing for each other.

Quinn’s not looking though and Santana feels a little relief. She can’t deal with a jealous Quinn tonight, and a little part of her doesn’t want this new girl to have to deal with that either.

When Santana glances back, she recognizes Sugar Motta – McKinley’s resident Richie Bitch – pulling the blonde girl in to dance and suddenly Santana’s watching a little too closely.

This girl can clearly dance and the way she moves with Sugar is so graceful. Sugar on the other hand isn’t as fluid, but their hands smooth over each other teasingly. When the blonde’s hands land on Sugar’s hips, they start to sway together and Santana can just tell that the blonde’s the one leading now.

Santana can feel this coil within her tightening the longer she watches, her mouth getting drier at the way she takes control.

Then the song changes and the two laugh and carry on so carefreely as if nothing happened. Their moves mimic the steady rhythm and they start to bounce with their fists pumping at the air in time to the pounding bass.

Santana frowns at the slight pang of jealousy; she used to be like that, so uncaring and full of life. She danced with whoever she wanted – boy or girl – and it didn’t matter, but now…now it does.

“Who’s she?” Quinn asks, her gazing lining up with the blonde talking to Sugar.

“No idea.”

“Should I ask around?”

“No!” Santana blurts and Quinn eyes her suspiciously. Santana adjusts, “No. I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later. She’s hanging around Sugar and you know she can’t keep her mouth shut for more than two seconds.”

Quinn smirks, “True.”

\\

When Puck finally rears his ugly mug, Santana’s surprised they were able to dodge him for so long.

“Hey ladies,” He greets with his signature smirk, “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

There are beer stains on his open button-down and Santana can smell the tanning oil on him from where she sits. He’s got a nice body or whatever, but that doesn’t mean he needs to strut around basted in Hawaiian Tropic. She can’t really talk though, she and Quinn have both made out with him at some point in time.

“Scram, Puckerman,” Santana replies with a roll of her eyes, “I’m not drunk enough to deal with your lame ass.”

“Is that any way to talk to the host?” Puck mocks and squeezes in to sit between the Co-Captains.

Santana groans and shuffles away from him, but he throws a heavy arm around her and Quinn’s shoulders. She can smell something stronger than beer on his breath and scoffs as she gets out from underneath his arm, “You’re gross.”

“Whatever. I’m not here for you anyway,” Puck brushes off and leans heavily against Quinn instead, “I know you’re not on the menu anymore or has that changed?”

Santana’s taken aback but her heart begins to pound wildly at the accusation.

“Choose your next words carefully,” Santana warns.

“What?” Puck laughs, “You still trying to hold out on me?”

“Puck,” Quinn snaps and shrugs out from under him too.

He’s too drunk and wrapped up in his own bullshit to notice that he’s crossed a line, but his voice grabs the attention of those surrounding them.

Santana suddenly feels small, trapped even. It feels like everyone’s staring now and listening to Puck’s drunken words.

“All I wanna know is if that phase is over with now?” He says and it’s like the final blow for Santana.

She shrinks back and her vicious words that use to come so easily for her die on her tongue. There’s a crowd gathering now and she notices the blonde girl from before eyeing them too.

“It’s not a phase, asshole,” Quinn snaps and surprises everyone watching by pushing him into the pool.

Santana’s eyes go wide as she sees the big splash. She’s never been so thankful to have Quinn as her best friend.

“What the hell, Quinn!” Puck grumbles as he resurfaces, “I had my phone on me still!”

“Shouldn’t have been a dick then,” Quinn shrugs and hooks her arm with Santana’s, “Let’s go, the beer’s flat here anyway.”

Santana finally kicks into gear and nods, “Yeah. I’m not trying to be hungover for practice tomorrow.”

Santana doesn’t know why, but as they turn to leave she looks around for the mysterious blonde. To her disappointment, she’s nowhere to be found.

They make their way to the street and begin the short walk home in silence. Santana’s heart is still racing even though they’re so far away now that she can’t even hear the low thrum of the music emanating from Puck’s place. She hopes that no one saw her choke on her words, maybe they’ll be too distracted by Quinn’s actions to remember.

It’s not until another ten minutes later when they’ve arrived at Quinn’s house that Santana finally finds her voice again.

“Thanks Q,” She says quietly. She knows she doesn’t need to elaborate and she’s thankful for that too.

Quinn only lifts her shoulder in a lazy shrug, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

\\\\\

The first day of school rolls around quickly for Brittany, but despite being the new kid she makes friends relatively easy. Kurt’s in her first class and she’s honestly so relieved to see a familiar face.

He takes it upon himself to show her around and introduce Brittany to his friends. So far, Brittany’s met a Tonya or Taylor – she’s not very good with names – but she’s nice. There’s also Mercedes – she remembers that name – who Brittany met in her Astronomy class and alongside Kurt guide, they guide Brittany through McKinley High.

It’s a total Mean Girls moment and Brittany finds herself laughing at how eager they are to show her around.

When they get to lunch, she notices that everyone is pretty cliquey which is something she isn’t use to. At her old school, everyone mingled with everyone. It didn’t matter if you played sports or if you were considered cool, people just hung out with whoever they wanted.

At McKinley High, that’s clearly not the case.

All the football players sit together but instead of joining them, Kurt leads Brittany and Mercedes to a different table close by. They get a couple of curious looks, but all Brittany can focus on is what they’re wearing.

“Why have they got on their letterman jackets?” Brittany questions with a laugh, “It’s so hot outside, they have to be melting.”

“How else do expect them to establish dominance?” Kurt says sarcastically, “I only wear mine on game days. You don’t have one yet, right?”

“No,” Brittany answers, “But I do have my own number now.”

“Oh good,” Kurt grins, “It’s official now.”

\\

Kurt and Mercedes are still trying to give her the rundown, but Brittany’s starting to reach her peak when it comes to taking in all the new info. Whatever they’re saying now is kind of going in one ear and out the other, the only thing that brings her back is spotting the familiar brunette she saw at Puck’s party.

Even if Brittany drank a little more than she anticipated, she was still sober enough to remember the saddest looking girl at the party.

“And those are the Cheerios,” Mercedes tells Brittany as if she could read her mind, “McKinley’s cheerleading squad and top of the social food chain.”

“I haven’t seen them at any of the games,” Brittany looks to Kurt for an explanation.

“They don’t bother with pre-season,” Kurt answers, “They’re basically the only ones here winning any titles. Coach Sylvester practically lets them get away with murder.”

Brittany notes all the high ponies and uniforms, everyone’s make up is on point and there’s not a single hair out of place. They all look immaculate, but Brittany focuses on the two that she’s most familiar with.

“Who are they?” She asks.

“The blonde one is Quinn Fabray,” Kurt informs her in a hushed tone, “She’s Co-Captain along with the brunette – Santana Lopez – and both of their families are loaded. They’ve been best friends since ever, you rarely see one without the other. Quinn’s kind of a prude and Santana’s – “

“A complete bitch for no reason most of the time,” Mercedes finishes for him.

Kurt shakes his head, “She has a reason.”

His cryptic words interest Brittany. Hell, she’s been interested ever since she saw Quinn push Puckerman into the pool.

“Doesn’t give her an excuse to terrorize us,” Mercedes reasons, “The girl is trouble.”

Kurt bobbles his head from side to side and looks back at Brittany, “It’s best if you stay out of her way, Brittany. It’ll make your life a whole lot easier.”

“You think?” Mercedes asks, “She’s on the football team, the quarterback even. You think Santana will mess with her?”

Kurt shrugs, “She still messes with me doesn’t, she?”

“That’s true,” Mercedes frowns.

Brittany just nods, but that doesn’t extinguish the curiosity that has blossomed within her.

\\

And maybe someone above is testing her, because when Brittany arrives to her final class of the day she finds the exact person Kurt and Mercedes have been warning her against interacting with: Santana Lopez.

And to make matters even worse, the only available seat left in the room just so happens to be the one right next to her. Brittany shakes her head and glances at the board to double check she’s in the right place.

Creative Writing – Miss Holliday Room 215

Brittany’s definitely in the right place and lets out a sigh.

Might as well bite the bullet, Brittany thinks as musters all the confidence she has left and she approaches the table. She’s been rushed at by guys ten times the brunette’s size moving at full speed on the football field and yet, she can’t help but feel a little nervous when she comes to stand before the Co-Captain.

“Hi,” Brittany greets with a polite smile, “Can I sit here?”

Santana glances up at her like she can’t believe the audacity Brittany has. She eyes her up and down then goes back to filing her nails, “No.”

Brittany nods, so Kurt and Mercedes might’ve been right.

“There aren’t any other seats left,” Brittany adds.

Santana doesn’t even look up this time, “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Brittany has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. This girl is something else but Brittany’s never been one to back down.

Unfortunately her teacher – Miss Holliday –  approaches, “Are you seriously starting off the year by being a pain in my ass, Lopez? Don’t give the new kid a hard time. Move over.”

“Fine,” Santana rolls her eyes and slides her books closer to her side of the table.

Brittany looks back at the teacher and smiles, “Thanks.”

“All good,” The woman says casually. She’s young and reminds Brittany of one of her favorite teachers at her old school, “Have a seat, Sweet Cheeks.”

Brittany does as she’s told and gets settled next to Santana. She can feel the tension radiating off the Cheerio, but tries to ease it by introducing herself.

“I’m Brittany,” She tells the brunette and adds a friendly smile for emphasis. If she’s going to be stuck sitting next to her for the rest of the year, they can at least be civil. Right?

Wrong.

“I didn’t ask,” Santana retorts and spends the rest of class giving Brittany the cold shoulder.

For some reason though, that only makes Brittany want to get to know Santana even more.

Afterall, she loves a challenge.

\\\\\

It’s the last Cheerios practice indoors and Santana and Quinn soak up the privilege of conditioning in a space with A.C. There are many reasons why Santana dreads having to join football team outdoors for practice, one being that it’s hot as hell still during this time of year and also she can’t stand the cat-calling.

With Coach Beiste as the acting head coach now, the guys are a lot more tame but Santana still hates how she feels like she’s being watched all the time. Some of the other girls on the squad don’t mind it too much though, they’re all about teasing and the pleasing apparently.

“How’s your schedule this year?” Quinn asks between stretches.

“It’s alright,” Santana shrugs, “Super easy. I got Holliday and Schuester again.”

“Lucky!” Quinn says, “I got Hagberg. I wish she would just retire already.”

Santana agrees then she remembers her last class of the day and how the mysterious blonde from Puck’s party now has a name, “Hey. Remember that girl we saw at Puck’s?”

“The blonde one?”

“Yeah, her. Brittany,” Santana murmurs the name, “I have a class with her.”

“Oh! Is she cool or something?” Quinn’s intrigued, “She’s pretty and she’s got some moves. We could get her on the squad?”

Pretty, Santana thinks it’s an understatement now that she’s seen her up close. She’s never seen eyes so damn blue and that smile – again, wow.

Quinn catches her swept up in her thoughts and quickly plays it off, “Hell no.”

“Really? Why not?”

“She’s just…,” Santana racks her brain for an excuse but she’s blanking, “She’s just not Cheerios material.”

Quinn calls her bluff, “How would you know?”

“I just do,” Santana scoffs and continues to struggle for a reason, “There’s something different about her, okay?”

“Different is good though, right? We could use that.”

“God Quinn, just drop it alright?” Santana snaps and walks off.

Quinn just laughs in disbelief, “You’re the one that brought her up!”

\\

The rest of the week is a little of the same. Santana goes through the motions of her day although a hidden piece of her longs for her last class with Brittany. She still ignores the blonde’s attempts to make conversation, but it doesn’t seem like the girl is giving up anytime soon.

Quinn still presses for Brittany to join the squad, but Santana’s not having any of that either.

Quinn can’t understand why Santana’s being so adamant about the decision. Santana doesn’t know why either. In fact, there are a lot of things Santana doesn’t understand when it comes to Brittany, but she’s not exactly ready to unpack any of that.

If anything, she’s afraid of what it all could mean.

It isn’t until Friday night that things begin to get a little clearer for them all.

\\

It’s the first regular season game which means it’s the first game the Cheerios make an appearance in. The Titans are pumped but Santana isn’t sure what’s gotten into them, they never win so cheering for them always feels like a waste of time. There’s a different air about the team this year though, but Santana doesn’t think much of it as the game kicks off.

Santana and Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios do what they do best and breathe life into the crowd like always, but they find that they don’t need to work as hard to keep morale up because the Titans are actually winning for a change.

In fact, Santana has to check the score twice to make sure she’s reading it correctly.

Home: 9 Away: 0

“What the hell?” Santana bumps Quinn with her pompom, “We’re winning?”

“Weird, right?” Quinn replies and nods over to the Titans’ bench, “Wonder if it has anything to do with that?”

Santana blinks, “Is that Finnocence?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Santana snaps back to the field, “Then who’s out there?”

“Sam?” Quinn questions but they know he’s #6 and #6 is on the other side of the field catching a perfectly thrown pass.

They both look to the quarterback and Santana asks, “Who’s #12?”

“No idea,” Quinn shrugs, “But he’s killing it!”

Santana doesn’t know much about football but she does know a lot about winning and whatever this guy is doing seems to be working.

Santana and Quinn spend the rest of the game trying to figure out who’s beneath #12’s helmet, but decide that someone already on the team must’ve been given a new number with the promotion to quarterback.

There’s really no other explanation.

All that though is quickly forgotten as the game ends and the Titans come away with their first win of the regular season. It’s practically unheard of considering their losing streak. The stands erupt in applause and Santana watches as the Titans go wild too. Sam and Mike hoist #12 onto their shoulders as the quarterback pulls of his helmet.

When Santana sees long blonde hair cascade out from underneath it, she just about faints because the Titans’ new quarterback isn’t some random guy: it’s Brittany.

“Well,” Quinn’s equally surprised and bumps Santana with her shoulder, “Looks like you were right about her being different.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n-Why must I always make things complicated?)

Warnings- Language (I don’t usually use language warnings, but its a lot this time), Violence, Bloodshed, Murder, brief mentions of SMUT (it’s not what you’re thinking.)

Masterlist  Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Crime and Punishment 

It was Saturday, and at all costs, Y/n usually preferred to keep her weekends to herself and leave her business, whatever it was, for Monday. Because of this, John was usually off on weekends too, though, he did still stay at her penthouse just in case, he never said of what, but Y/n knew. She’d always known, that was why she’d hired him. Nonetheless, while hitmen and mercenaries didn’t take weekends off, Y/n did, unless, of course, pressing matters arose. 

“What?” Y/n’s jaw clenched as she tried to keep her rage at bay, though, Donavan knew her well enough to be able to tell that she was a bit more than pissed off. Someone was going to die that day, it was just a question of who. With the book laid out before her, Y/n scanned the page, one, two and then three times, just to make sure she hadn’t read anything wrong, though, she rarely made mistakes. She was hardly perfect though, calculated was more like it. “Who the hell let this slip?” Standing abruptly, Y/n slammed the leather bound book shut with a thud.

“My guess is someone in accounting,” He stood before the sleek, white desk in her white walled, airy home office, his hands clasped in front of him, not in the slightest phased by her behavior, "But, it could be one of the guys you’ve got working in stock. What do you want to do about it?”

Moving out from behind the desk, Y/n slipped her hands coolly into the pockets of her grey, soft, paper bag pants, sauntering over to the window that overlooked the rest of Hudson Yards, the glass constituting the other towering complexes reflecting the afternoon sun beautifully and way down below, the people bustling were reduced to specs on the paved roads and sidewalks. “I want to find this person, and have them dealt with, today,” she emphasized the final word, before turning back to Donavan, finding his dark, steely grey eyes fixed on her, his sharp jaw set stiffly. When she got closer, close enough to see the hints of grey showing up near his sideburns and in his five o’clock shadow, he stood a little straighter and Y/n could feel the muscles in his biceps rippling beneath his black sweater when her delicate fingers trailed up to his shoulder, “Will that be a problem, Donny?” 

Y/n was the only person that ever called him that and Donavan was the only person privy to some semblance of non-familial affection from her. It was a consequence of being reared so closely; from the minute she was brought home in the arms of her mother, Donavan, at just ten, was taught that she was his to look over, that it would be her before him at all costs. Not looking down at her, he simply eyed her movements through his peripheral, quirking a rare smirk, “No ma’am. The car’s downstairs, ready when you are.”

Her tongue darted out quickly, moistening her lips as she tried to suppress her own mirth, “Good, I’ll go tell John and we should be off within the hour.”

“Forgive my…..boldness, Vila,” Donavan interrupted  nonchalantly just as Y/n neared the door, her hand just about to close in over the ornate knob, only continuing when she spared him a lingering backwards glance, “I’ve been meaning to ask; are the services of Mr. Wick really necessary? You know I would lay my life down for you, at any time, no question.”

Nodding slowly, Y/n’s brows knitted, of course, she could tell from the moment they’d met that Donavan had is own reservations about John as her security detail, he wasn’t the trusting type, and the older man had only served to put him on edge, though, for the life of her, Y/n couldn’t readily see why. She liked John as much as her jagged edged personality would afford, and even if she wouldn’t call him a friend, she hardly called anyone that, Y/n had started to see him as indispensable. “Mhm,” she hummed, not quite sure of why he’d chosen that moment to voice his concerns, “But that’s not your job,” she turned to leave again.

“I know that,” he insisted and she paused again, the first inkling of irritation seeping upwards, “But I would. And I just don’t think we need an unnecessary expense on our payroll, especially one…...that expensive.”

“Are you doubting my judgement, Donavan?” There was a sternness in her tone, one she rarely took with him though, it was enough to urge him to back off, and if he didn’t know her so well, he might have.

“I’m not,” he reassured, folding his muscled arms across his broad chest, “I would never, it’s just……”

“Don’t,” briskly, Y/n stopped him before he could find the words, “Never, ever, question my decisions, you know I don’t like it,” she warned firmly, “And as for John, he’s needed, and he stays, and if you think of questioning his employment here again, then I suggest you keep it to yourself? Got it?”

And then, before Y/n could hear Donavan’s response, she’d stalked out of the room, walking with purpose, down the hall, stopping at John’s room; the bedroom nearest to hers before heading there. As usual, it only took two knocks before John was pulling the tall door open. He’d been like that since moving in, always there when she called, never letting her wait a moment more than necessary. It wasn’t really obedience though, John had proven to be capable of following only his own rules, never needing her permission before acting and for what it was worth, she didn’t even think that ‘obedient’ was in his dictionary anyway. Instead, he was, as the legend had preached, a man of focus and commitment, and after only knowing him for just over a month, Y/n was beginning to think that there was very little that could successfully stand in the man’s way, if anything at all.

Another thing about John was that he was always impeccably dressed, persistently attired in a selection from his armory of Italian tailored, bulletproof suits. Never with a hair out of place and most definitely never looking as if she’d caught him off guard. Well, almost never. Except for that very Saturday, when they were both expected to be off and she’d broken habit and knocked on his door instead. “John,” Y/n didn’t think she could help if she tried when her eyes landed on his chest instead of his stoic expression. His torso, though very faintly defined, boasted how much an excellent shape he was in; the slight definition coming from years in the field as opposed to hours put in at the gym while scars of varying ages littered his skin. Hints of dark ink peeked out from his back while the bold cross on his shoulder was far more visible. Y/n had never seen his tattoos, but in that moment, she wanted to.

“See something interesting?” John broke her unconscious trance, folding his bulky arms and skewing her view.

Clearing her throat, Y/n shook her head, dismissing the feeling that had plumed in her chest at the sight of him so  sparsely dressed in nothing but a pair of worn blue jeans, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She rolled her eyes dismissively, “There’s a situation at the club house, we’re leaving within the hour.”

John never asked questions, and he didn't even protest that she'd been interrupting whatever he was doing, instead, he just held his head up, not even nodding as he offered a firm, "Okay," before shutting the door, leaving Y/n staring at the heavy white oak before swallowing her annoyance and turning to stalk off.

When the car pulled up in front of the warehouse, John and Donavan, who’d sat on either side of Y/n, got out before her, and by the time he'd had jogged around to the other side to help her out, John had already offered his hand. “I was coming to get you,” he grumbled, straightening the blazer he’d shrugged on over his sweater, moving to open the building’s front door for her.

“I don’t need anyone to get me,” Y/n scolded quietly, rolling her eyes at his ridiculous behavior as she stepped in front of John, who hung back for a couple minutes just to confirm that no other cars had lingered at the front gate. By then, he’d devised a working idea of the vehicles that usually moved in and out of the compound and who they were driven by, how he’d committed that and everything else to memory was still a mystery to Y/n. Satisfied, he followed Y/n into the building, eyeing everyone closely as they ascended the spiral steps, stopping only when they were raised over everyone else.

Y/n gripped the cool metal railing, her eyes scanning the floor as a chatter ran through the workers. The place wasn’t ordinarily quiet, but that mummer wasn’t friendly banter, it was fright; they weren’t used to seeing her there on a weekend, and if Y/n was there on a Saturday afternoon, it meant that something was sorely wrong. For a moment more, she spectated, trying to see who seemed the most nervous, inconsistencies like the one Donavan had brought to her couldn’t possibly be accidental, no, someone was stealing from her, and Y/n wasn’t going to stand for it. 

Ready to address them, she cleared her throat loudly, rousing attention and straightening her back to seem more intimidating when her underlings looked up at her, flanked by John on her left and Donavan, both eerily silent while her enforcers stood a couple feet behind, lurking in the shadows “It has been brought to my attention that there are some…..discrepancies in our books,” and when some gasped, others just looked on with awe, Y/n continued, “Twenty five thousand dollars is missing. And I know that twenty five fucking thousand doesn’t just vanish; this was not a mistake. Which means that it's gone on purpose, taken on purpose.” The gathered workers mumbled amongst themselves, looking around to see if someone would be brave enough to fess up, “And I understand that it's money,” she chuckled dryly, “And it's probably long, long gone. But whoever took it, isn’t, and if you think that I’m just gonna let this go, then you don’t really know me. So why don’t you, whoever the fuck you are, come forward and make both our lives easier? If you don’t, I will find you, and it will hurt when I do.”

Again, the workers chattered softly, probably nudging each other to say who’d done it if they knew. Though, minutes ticked by and nothing happened, and all the noise did was serve to irritate Y/n’s already sour mood, causing her to squeeze the railing tightly and hissing an exhale before, “Alight!” She snapped, “You want to make this hard? That’s fine,” Y/n reached behind her, snapping manicured fingers, “Boys,” she purred menacingly, “Get down there and find this fucker, and you do, bring ‘em to our playroom.”

From the minute the hasty order left her deep red lips, and her bulky henchmen started filtering out towards the steps, a man pushed through the crowd, making a break for the door. Though, his luck was as good as any common criminal, and fearing her to the point of faultless loyalty, some of her workers blocked him, a few others grabbing him before he could fight through, handing him over to Y/n’s men when they got through the thick of it. Even as they dragged him, the man screamed bloody murder, which in all fairness, was more than likely what he would be facing in just a bit. “Donny,” Y/n spoke without looking in his direction, and he simply hummed in response, “Why don’t you get our toys ready?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he nodded, sparing her one last glance before leaving her alone with John, still looking on at everyone below.

“What do you think?” She tilted her head, leaning in discreetly, “Anyone we should be looking out for, besides our little rat over there,” Y/n nudged to the young man being dragged up the steps. He was young, one of her newer hires. She hadn’t trusted him completely when he sought her out, seeking employment, but he was no more than twenty three and before, she was sure that she could mold him to suit, maybe make something of the kid. But betrayal wasn’t something Y/n fared well with, and second chances were rare in their line of work.

Slowly, John scanned the crowd, which had just started to disperse, though she was sure that by then, he’d already done the same thing well over three times. John was exceptionally thorough, “No,” he kept his gaze trained forward, “If it makes you feel better, I can get down there, shake up a few people, make sure.”

“It doesn’t make me feel anything,” she huffed, turning to walk away, gesturing for John to come with her. Y/n hated the mere thought that John had started to see her as vulnerable, someone who was afraid of the people that worked at her feet, even if the thought of a betrayal that could cost far more than currency scared her, she wasn’t going to show it. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone.

“You know I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what’s scaring you,” John quipped, his words, as usual, were few, but effective, making Y/n come to an abrupt halt just as they were about to turn the corner and head down a dim hallway.

“I never said I was scared,” she turned to face him, her phlegmatic expression matching his. Y/n hadn’t expected John to be that close when she spun, and his proximity almost had her façade faltering, but she persisted, and for a moment, it seemed to be a war of stares, who ever looked away would be deemed a loser. Except, neither of them looked away and the longer their eyes locked, the more exposed she felt, like he was seeing her for who she really was, the person behind the hardened shell, who was scared that she was digging her own grave and destroying the empire her linage had afforded her. Y/n wasn’t sure if being seen, by at least one person, was comforting or frightening. On one hand, she sometimes tired of keeping up appearances, while on the other, it worried her that the tough, uncrackable disposition was all she had. If she softened, who was going to listen to a pretty girl half their age? 

“Not today you didn't,” his low baritone finally broke the silence, and unconsciously, John stepped forward, almost feeling as if she’d been reeling him in with those siren eyes. Those four little words were all he needed to put a chip in her exterior, to remind them both of the girl she’d been when they met at the Continental. The one whose perfume hung in the air even after she left and had left him with mixed feelings since they’d met. When he’d first started working there, he’d heard what they called her; Vila, and it was easy to see why too. Y/n had this kind of beauty, it almost didn’t seem real, though, her physical appearance was merely a mask, for anyone in her presence could tell that like him, she emanated danger. She wasn’t afraid to get her hands bloody when crossed.

Y/n’s gaze flickered away from his eyes, trying to shake off the trance his chocolate gaze had put her in, summoning up a dismissive smirk, “You’re smart huh?” She moistened her lips, preferring to be done with the subject rather than delve further into it, “Come on, I’ve got work to do,” she began walking again, “On a fucking Saturday too,” Y/n grumbled under her breath, and John didn’t let her see it, but he smiled faintly.

They walked for a while, all the way down the corridor, turning at its end and trekking up another set of stairs, those narrow and illuminated by an old bulb, leading to a lone metal door, rust gathered on the outer bolt and the creaking noise blood curling as she pulled it open, “Wait,” John grabbed her arms, “I go in first,” he reminded, not waiting for Y/n’s go ahead before stepping in front of her, his hand already reaching for his gun as he toed in. He’d stepped inside completely, sweeping the area for anything remotely out of place before letting her in.

When Y/n stepped inside, a tense silence befell the low lit room and the clicking of her stilettos on the worn, stained concrete floor was the only thing echoing. Without needing to be asked, Donavan approached her, helping Y/n out of her long camel coat, draping it over his arm as he stood back, near John against the wall. “Christopher,” she addressed, undoing the buttons at the cuffed sleeves of her silk, champagne colored shirt, rolling them up to just below her elbows and then putting her hair up in a loose ponytail, “You know, when I hired you, I took a chance. You were a kid and I thought that I could turn you into something great, teach you. I wanted to help you, Christopher.” There was a table, a wooden one, near the front of the large room, and on the surface, were all sorts of tools. A pair of pliers, a couple blades, bone saws of varying types, a thumbscrew, a pinwheel, an icepick, and of course, to end it all, a gun. Of course, killing and making an example of him would have been ideal, but Y/n didn’t want to risk missing his reasoning. “I really wanted to help you,” she carried on, swiping up the thumbscrew, sauntering over to the center of the room where Christopher sat, bound to the chair by a series of leather straps; two holding his wrists to the handles, his calves to the legs and his midsection to the wooden back. 

Though he fought against it, whimpering in fear as she drew closer, the chair, bolted to the ground, wouldn’t budge. There was no escaping, and he knew it. “Please Miss Romanov,” he pleaded pathetically, “I swear, I can pay it back, the twenty five grand, I can pay it back.”

“Pay it back?” She chuckled humorlessly, slipping his right index into the device, “Where’re you gonna get twenty five grand, huh? Besides, you know it's not the money, it's the principal. If we don’t have trust in this business, we have nothing. And I can’t trust you anymore Christopher,” slowly, Y/n started turning the pin at the top, her eyes fixed on how his features screwed up in pain as his finger was crushed, the sickening sound drowned out by his screams. The room was hardly soundproof, and even from the ground floor, anyone could tell what was happening, “Why do you think I can’t trust you?"

“Because of…...Arghh!” He howled, straining his neck as he shifted his head, his skin going red with the heat of pain and tears already streaming down his face. “The money!” He writhed, “Because of the money!”

“The money?” Hastily, Y/n grabbed his hand, situating another finger into the contraption, her anger flaring, “Have you heard nothing that I’ve said?” Her voice rose and she began turning again, up to her rope’s end with his ignorance, “Have I taught you nothing?” Y/n yelled.

“The principal!” Christopher sobbed, his breaths heavy and ragged and his eyes shut tight, as if not seeing the blood creating new stains on the grey floor might lessen the pain. Still though, Y/n continued, “But I had to,” he blubbered, “They would have killed me.”

“What?” snarling, Y/n paused, “Who, who would have killed you. Why’d you need the money?” Grabbing his wet face, her long nails digging into his blotchy, beat red cheeks, “Why’d you need my fucking money!”

“I-I….” hiccupping, there was a new wave of fear washing over him, and by then, the sweat had started to soak through his ratty plaid shirt, “The Irish...they-” the truth, like water behind a broken dam, came rushing out, “They have a….a gambling house up in Brooklyn.”

“You were fucking with the goddamed Irish!” Y/n released his face, only to grant him a backhanded slap, making sure the expensive stone on her ring broke his skin, “I’ve got you working here for me, I’m putting bread on your table and you go behind my back with the Irish? Motherfucker!” She slapped him again.

“Miss Romanov,” he begged messily as Y/n went back over to the table, that time to snatch up the brass knuckles, fitting them onto her right hand before returning to where Christopher, “You gotta understand, it was just supposed to be one card game and I-” Interrupting his hurried explanation, Y/n punched him, as hard as she could, hitting him square in the jaw and splitting his lip. She supposed that one of her men could have been far more effective, but following her father’s footsteps, she usually dealt out punishments on her own. “Please-” She reared back, socking him again, that tie hard enough to crack his jaw and dislodge a tooth. “Please,” he repeated, blood dribbling out as he spoke, “Money was tight, my girl hasn’t been working and we were in debt. I won one-” She hit him higher up, nearer to his eye, but he continued anyway, determined to beg for mercy with his last breaths, “I thought I could win more, but I started losing, so fast.” Another punch broke something else and bruises were already starting to favor the left side of his face while Y/n’s sleeves, which had fallen with the repeated movements, were more than spotted with blood.

“You needed money then you should’ve come to me. But you gave the Irish an in!” By then, Y/n had hit him so many times, that she’d lost count and Christopher was almost unrecognizable. She hadn’t realized how angry she was. From his on guard stance near the door, John kept his eyes trained on her; he’d never seen a more ruthless woman, or perhaps, person in general. Not even when he worked for the Tasarov mob, years before he single-handedly dismantled them in mere days. John had heard the stories though, of Y/n’s unforgiving father, how alarmingly frightening he could be given the right circumstances, no doubt he’d passed that on to his only heir. For someone else, watching Y/n might have been blood turning, despite her flawlessness, her ruthlessness might have easily made her ugly, the way she could ignore pleas and prayers for mercy, but for John, it was almost mesmerizing. She did the dirty work on her own, unafraid of bloodying her hands, and unashamed of who she was. Her bravery, boldness and ability to temporarily dispose of her apathetic demeanor was surprisingly attractive. Maybe he’d finally met his match.

When she was finally satisfied with the string of sloppy, bloody apologies and explanations, Y/n huffed, walking away, only to pick up the gun, checking to see if it was loaded before taking her aim, “I tried to help you Christopher, but you went behind my back, and now you have to pay for that.” He was already slipping in and out of consciousness, and when Y/n finally pulled the trigger with her bloodied finger, the only thing that sounded was the bang of the shot, the smoke dissipating as she lingered, staring blankly at the body for a minute.

“Vila,” It was Donavan that broke her trance, and ignoring him, Y/n tossed the gun back to the table snatching up the towel that he offered, wiping the warm red off her hands, barely registering how the color stuck to her skin before discarding it to the table.

 “Make a dinner reservation, leave the money out for ‘em, and meet us in the car after you call,” barely, she took note of Donavan’s acknowledgement as she stalked out of the room, John once again a couple paces behind as they moved.

“You okay?” His attempt at small talk surprised them both as they returned to the main floor, his words under his breath.

They broke out into the late afternoon, and moving ahead, John leaned forward, opening the door for her to get in, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Y/n got in, immediately reaching for the crystal carafe of whiskey, and two glasses, “Have a drink with me,” without awaiting his response, she poured two, handing over one.

“Must be hard, your job,” he mused gruffly, taking a tentative sip of his drink, enjoying the way the alcohol burned his throat. Y/n had good taste, and John could tell from just one sip.

Shrugging, Y/n downed her entire drink in one swing, barely hissing or wincing as she knocked it back, “Pay’s good.” Reaching for the bottle again, Y/n poured another, not understanding why she felt the turmoil that she did and ready to do away with it, “Thanks for uh…..coming with us today.”

“From what I can see, you didn’t need me,” at that, Y/n’s gaze snapped towards him, her plump lips agape and her eyes unusually wide and doe-y, “I’m just saying,” he cleared his throat, realizing how the air between them had changed once again, “You can hold your own out there Y/n.”

“You’re one of the only people that calls me that,” she wondered out loud, licking her lips as she looked at him, “It’s kind of strange to hear someone say my name.”

“Is that a problem?” John leaned in, catching a whiff of how the whiskey interacted with her perfume. 

“No,” Y/n breathed. It was the truth, and it seemed almost fitting, considering that John had proven to see right through her defenses, twice and had even been brave enough to call her out on it. He had seen just the tiniest glimmers of the real her, and it was only suiting that he be the one to call Y/n by her real name. “I do need you, by the way. So don’t go thinking I don’t.”

“Admitting defeat?” John smirked, and Y/n realized that that was the closest she’d ever got to seeing him smile. She bet he had a nice smile. Unconsciously, she leaned in too, something in the back of her head hoping he’d read the room and kiss her. 

“I’m just-” With a startle, her words were cut off, and surprised as Donavan entered, Y/n sprang back, averting her gaze as he settled next her, not even looking in John’s direction as he resumed his usual demeanor, pretending as if the moment had never even happened.

The ride back to the penthouse had been filled with silence, the tension so thick it could be cut with a knife, and when it was time to get out of the car, instead of offering his hand that time, John had left, heading towards the elevator to do his usual checks before Y/n could even step foot near it. That time, it was Donavan that had hung back with her, still holding her coat, and that time her handbag, as they walked. 

Even the elevator ride up was quiet and when the metal box opened up to her foyer, they all went in and wordlessly, John stalked off in the direction of his room. She tried not to be, but Y/n was offended that he’d be willing to just bypass what they’d shared in the car and choose to pretend that he was nothing more than an employee. It was infuriating, though, knowing she could do nothing about it, Y/n decided that she’d deal with her frustrations with a more willing companion.

“Stay for a while,” she led Donavan down the hall, the sounds of their steps echoing off the soft white marble walls, “I’d like some company.”

“Of course,” he nodded, following Y/n into her room, shutting the door behind him as they entered. Y/n turned the lights on, the chandelier overhead casting a glow on the spacious master bedroom, and as she went over to a small sofa near the window to slip off her heels, Donavan set her bag down on an accent chair near the door, draping her coat over the arm. “I’m going to take a shower,” she explained nonchalantly, undoing and untucking her ruined shirt before pulling out her stylish leather belt and unbuttoning her pants. “Care to join me?” 

Huffing a quiet chuckle, Donavan started stripping on his way over to her, losing his blazer and sweater by the time he reached Y/n, “When have I ever turned you down?” He smirked confidently, “You had such a rough day,” his calloused hands slid up her arms, massaging her shoulders, “Why don’t we get in there,” he lifted one hand, only to pull out her hairband and free her tresses, “And blow off some steam?”

“Well I didn’t invite you here for nothing,” Y/n’s lithe fingers trailed down Donavan’s toned torso, pushing the memory of a shirtless John out of her mind as she did. At the top of his pants, her hands lingered, and standing on her toes, she planted a searing kiss on a pair of familiar lips, expertly popping the button on his back slacks, letting him unclasp her bra in turn.

By the time they stumbled to the shower, managing to get the hot water on in their steamy haste, Y/n was already hoisted up in Donavan’s arms. He pressed his back against the glass wall, and as he nestled his throbbing manhood between her slick folds, Y/n moaned loudly, combating the sound of the falling water as she felt him fill her up. Her hand was braced beside his head on the glass, the rivulets staining red with the remaining blood on her hand as it raced down the wall. As he moved, helping her forget the day, with John’s image still on replay in her mind, steam built up around them while hot water from the rain shower washed their bodies. That evening, it was hard to lose herself in the rough sensation and  Y/n could only hope that at some point, her mind would go right again so that she could return to the person that wasn’t affected by death, or worse yet, got flutters in her stomach because of John Wick.

*****

 Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana  @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

[rockislandadultreads]

LGBTQA+ Fiction You Should Read Right Now

reading lists in honor of PRIDE 

Love After Love by Ingrid Persaud

An electrifying novel of an unconventional family in Trinidad mended by their individual, and collective, quests for love After Betty Ramdin's husband dies, she invites a colleague, Mr. Chetan, to move in with her and her son, Solo. Over time, the three become a family, loving each other deeply and depending upon one another. Then, one fateful night, Solo overhears Betty confiding in Mr. Chetan and learns a secret that plunges him into torment. Solo flees Trinidad for New York to carve out a lonely existence as an undocumented immigrant, and Mr. Chetan remains the singular thread holding mother and son together. But soon, Mr. Chetan's own burdensome secret is revealed, with heartbreaking consequences. Love After Love interrogates love and family in all its myriad meanings and forms, asking how we might exchange an illusory love for one that is truly fulfilling.

The Knockout Queen by Rufi Thorpe

A dazzling and darkly comic novel of love, violence, and friendship in the California suburbs Bunny Lampert is the princess of North Shore⁠--beautiful, tall, blond, with a rich real-estate-developer father and a swimming pool in her backyard. Michael⁠⁠--with a ponytail down his back and a septum piercing⁠--lives with his aunt in the cramped stucco cottage next door. When Bunny catches Michael smoking in her yard, he discovers that her life is not as perfect as it seems. At six foot three, Bunny towers over their classmates. Even as she dreams of standing out and competing in the Olympics, she is desperate to fit in, to seem normal, and to get a boyfriend, all while hiding her father's escalating alcoholism. Michael has secrets of his own. At home and at school Michael pretends to be straight, but at night he tries to understand himself by meeting men online for anonymous encounters that both thrill and scare him. When Michael falls in love for the first time, a vicious strain of gossip circulates and a terrible, brutal act becomes the defining feature of both his and Bunny's futures⁠⁠--and of their friendship. With storytelling as intoxicating as it is intelligent, Rufi Thorpe has created a tragic and unflinching portrait of identity, a fascinating examination of our struggles to exist in our bodies, and an excruciatingly beautiful story of two humans aching for connection.

Let's Get Back to the Party by Zak Salih

What Does It Mean to Be a Gay Man Today? It’s just weeks after the historic Supreme Court marriage equality ruling, and all Sebastian Mote wants is to settle down. A high school art history teacher, newly single and desperately lonely, he envies his queer students their freedom to live openly the youth he lost to fear and shame.   So when he runs into his childhood friend Oscar Burnham at a wedding in Washington, D.C., he can’t help but see it as a second chance. Now thirty-five, the men haven’t seen each other in a decade. But Oscar has no interest in their shared history. Instead, he’s outraged by what he sees as the death of gay culture: bars overrun with bachelorette parties; friends getting married, having babies. While Oscar and Sebastian struggle to find their place in a rapidly changing world, each is drawn into a cross-generational friendship that treads the line between envy and obsession: Sebastian with one of his students and Oscar with an older icon of the AIDS era. And as they collide again and again, both men must come reckon not just with one another, but with themselves.

Boys of Alabama by Genevieve Hudson

In this bewitching debut novel, a sensitive teen, newly arrived in Alabama, falls in love, questions his faith, and navigates a strange power. While his German parents don’t know what to make of a South pining for the past, shy Max thrives in the thick heat. Taken in by the football team, he learns how to catch a spiraling ball, how to point a gun, and how to hide his innermost secrets. Max already expects some of the raucous behavior of his new, American friends—like their insatiable hunger for the fried and cheesy, and their locker room talk about girls. But he doesn’t expect the comradery—or how quickly he would be welcomed into their world of basement beer drinking. In his new canvas pants and thickening muscles, Max feels like he’s “playing dress-up.” That is until he meets Pan, the school “witch,” in Physics class: “Pan in his all black. Pan with his goth choker and the gel that made his hair go straight up.” Suddenly, Max feels seen, and the pair embarks on a consuming relationship: Max tells Pan about his supernatural powers, and Pan tells Max about the snake poison initiations of the local church. The boys, however, aren’t sure whose past is darker, and what is more frightening—their true selves, or staying true in Alabama.