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miraeluc · 3 years

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you don’t return from a mission

prompt: “diluc starts to worry when you’ve been gone on a simple mission for more than two days so he decides to look for you himself”

pairing: diluc x gender-neutral! reader

word count: 1,1k

warnings: mention of broken bone?? reader is hurt (not too bad), it’s just cute tbh

genre: angst, fluff

he was worried sick.

it was unlike you to stay overtime on missions - you did your work and left, avoiding unwanted commissions from strangers

after 1 day he wasn’t too worried, maybe you got carried away

after 2 days he was already starting to worry, maybe you went somewhere more far away and are camping there?

you were supposed to go to springvale though

that’s not that far.

after 3 days he was getting physically ill from all the overthinking - he thought every single possibility of what state you may be in right now

he hopes you’re just camping somewhere

he decided he couldn’t wait anymore and decided to go out and look for you himself

the next morning he awoke at 5am

he couldn’t sleep any longer so he got a backpack with emergency items such as a first aid kit and went on his (not so) merry way

he walked through windrise

just to make sure you weren’t there

sadly you were nowhere to be found

he sighed and kept walking - now on the way to springvale

he didn’t want to admit if but he was so terrified of losing you

you were the first person able to break down his walls in years

the thought of you potentially being in great danger made him automatically increase speed

he walked through the small village

“hey, brook. have you seen y/n around?”

“master diluc? y/n? they came by few hours ago to cook some food! looked pretty... disheveled. they said they were on their way to clear some hilichurl camps.”

diluc cursed under his breath

“did you see what direction they went?”

“took off in dawn winery’ direction-”

“ok. thanks.” he cut her off

he immediately started walking again, now getting more worried after brook described your appearance as ,,disheveled,,

when he arrived at dawn winery there was no one outside

that was weird

there’s usually always someone out there

where is everyone????

he obviously tried to go in

the doors were locked

that’s double-weird

double-weird until he very clearly heard you grunt in pain in the distance, atleast

what was dangerous enough to make dawn winery shut closed without asking him first?

he didn’t have enough time to ponder over it because he was already sprinting towards the source of sounds coming from you

his eyes widened and he faltered for a second as soon as he saw you, on the ground in the middle of three cryo abyss mages

he was, for the first time, relieved to be noticed by enemies - the three now floating towards him

he felt his anger picking up when he glanced at you, lying on the ground motionless

so, ya know what he did?

he released intense flames - knocking his opponents shields off, letting his phoenix finish them off

he sprinted towards you, dropping to his knees and pulling you to rest your head on his lap

“y/n, hang on for me, alright? don’t close your eyes”

his voice was shaking

“d-diluc- i can’t-”

was the only thing you managed to cough out, entrusting him to keep you safe, unable to keep fighting to stay awake, enduring that pain

you woke up to the sound of wood crackling beside you, residing into the warmth it radiated

curse those cryo abyss mages

you slowly peeled your eyes open, flinching at the sight of barbara and diluc hovering above you

where were you?

is this.. dawn winery??

what’s barbara doing here,,

you don’t know and you don’t care because you feel yourself getting engulfed by diluc’s arms

“god, you scared me so much..”

he won’t mention that he cried in front of barbara because he was so worried

that would feed your ego a little too much

“i’m sorry.. are they gone? i just wanted to defeat them before returning home..”

“they’re long gone..”

he sighed and pulled away from the hug, glancing at barbara who was waiting for your little moment to end before she could speak

“how did that even happen? you can take down three abyss mages easily!”

“I had cleared three hilichurl camps already and I was weakened - those took me by surprise as I was making my way back”

“you need to be careful next time - i healed you to the best of my abilities, but damage that only time can heal has been left behind. you have a broken rib and you were shivering the entire time while you were out! we warmed you up as best as we could and you should be fine now, but i wouldn’t be surprised if you do catch a cold the next few days..”

she then paused and looked at diluc

“you need to take care of y/n until they get bett-”

“you don’t even need to tell me. i won’t leave y/n out of my sight for now.”

she nodded and stood up

“very well. then, i’ll leave back to mondstadt, i still have work to do.”

without another word she left, which made diluc’s attention go back to you

he reached his hand out to caress your cheek

“i nearly got sick myself when you didnt return home after 3 days”

you broke out in a little giggle, stopping when your rib started immensely hurting but you then spoke

“oh diluc.. you know i usually take longer because i get carried away.. nonetheless, i’m very thankful that you came to my aid, no one else would have..”

“it makes me want to fire all my employees - they were all ju-”

you cut him off, pulling him down towards you to kiss his lips

“i’m glad they did, i got to see you fight~”

he scoffed, a smile spreading onto his lips

“seriously? that’s what you’re happy about?”

“well you looked very hot..” you trailed off

he attacked your face with tiny kisses after-

you best believe he didn’t let you out of sight the following weeks

he mostly made you stay in bed

always bringing you tea and left to fetch medicine for you in case of need

he even waited in front of the bathroom door when you needed to use the bathroom

he even helped you shower

you don’t express it verbally, but you’re really thankful to have him

no one except him supports and protects you as much as he does

he could literally kill someone for you

(spoiler: he already did.)

he’s your little meanie

did i mention that taking care of you also meant lots and lots of cuddles?

he always says it’s ‘so i can warm you up’

...

you know it’s because deep down he’s still very worried about your well-being

even after you’ve returned to good condition he hesitates to let you go on commissions

he usually accompanies you, just to make sure

you don’t mind

going on adventures alone can get boring - so having him by your side makes it all better :)

additional notes: hey there! there’s my second drabble. (truth is, i actually dislike this one lol). to be honest, i got so happy at the positive feedback towards my kaeya drabble, so i’m sorry it took me a while to write another one and it came out short too :( - i was having a little struggle with some writers block lol. nonetheless i hope you enjoyed this!!

#diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #fluff #angst #gender neutral #genshin impact angst #genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #gender neutral reader #you get hurt #abyss mage #diluc fluff #diluc angst

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wannabemobwife · 3 years

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Guns, Glamour, and Goodfellas - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Dusk Till Dawn

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield,

Brother!Parker Holland x Sister!Rosie Holland

-Warnings: Blood, language, angst, fluff, sadness, possible death

-Words: 2.5K

A/n: I’m sorry its short but, I ended it where I feel like I needed to end it to make people wait.

Chapter 10: Dusk Till Dawn

Words: 2.5K

All that could be felt was immense pain. A feeling of death. Tom’s head was throbbing as warm thick liquid streaked across his forehead. His head collided with the door as the copter tossed and turned.

He awoke to the thick, pungent smell of gasoline and to you, paralyzed next to him. It took a minute for him to gather his bearings. The pilot was missing, either he flew out when you crashed or went for help, who knows. Everything started to come back to him, the moments before you both crashed replaying in his head.

The pilot shouting, “MAYDAY! MAYDAY! DOES ANYONE COPY! This is flight number 514 and we are going down.”

“Tom!” “Y/N!”

And you screaming “TOM? WHAT'S HAPPENING?” “I don’t know.” He said pulling you into his arms.

It all happened so fast. First, alarms started going off within the cabin. Then, the pilot started to loose control. Twisting and turning the wheel. The helicopter did somersaults through the air. Tom could see the look on your face, a look of pure terror as the engine started to give out. You all quickly lost altitude and braced for the impact.

You and Tom’s last words were exchange of “I love you”s.

There was no soul in sight for miles, except you. Only the bright blue sky and the mountains of Montserrat. Tom didn’t know why the copter’s engine gave out 17,000 feet in the air. All he knows as you were stranded, with no sense of getting home.

The windows to helicopter were smashed, glass shards littered the floor of the cabin and the blades were deep into the ground. He was lucky the pilot didn’t fly straight into a mountain. There was no sign of the pilot, maybe he parachuted before you crash landed leaving you and Tom to your deaths. Tom didn’t know what to think. His only focus was making sure you were okay.

If it weren’t for the current predicament and the blood dripping down your face, he would have thought you were only sleeping, you looked so peaceful.

He tried to pry himself out of his seatbelt, eventually ripping it so he could get to you. Urgently checking for your pulse. Pressing two fingers below your jaw and against your neck. He was able to breathe again, once he found the faint beat of your heart.

“Y/N? Can you hear me? Wake up, darling.” Tom yelled, shaking you violently.

“Tom? What happened?” Your eyes opened abruptly, confused by your surroundings. “Our helicopter crashed—.”

“Tom, you’re bleeding.” “Not as bad as you. We have to get you out of here. Here, I’ll carry you.” You only nodded in response as Tom tucked his arms under your knees and pulled you close to his chest.

Laying you down near some rocks as far away from the ticking time bomb, the helicopter. It could blow any second, but it never did. The smoke would create the perfect signal but to no avail.

“Tom, your leg!”

“Like I said, it’s not that bad. Oh my god… your stomach” “My what… oh.” You said as you stared at the gapping puncture wound in your right side.

“Is there a first aid kit?” Tom asked. “I think it probably got lost while we were flying.”

“What happened to the pilot?” You questioned. “I don’t know. I can’t find him.” Just nodding in response. Trying not to cry at the situation. You were stranded with no sign of help any time soon.

“Y/N, I need to stop your bleeding… I have an idea. Where is your carry on bag?”

“I put it under my seat” you called out, as Tom searched for it. Opening its contents in search of fairly useful items.

Tom found a hoodie, make up remover that was 70% alcohol, antibacterial wipes, a handheld mirror, and a bunch of makeshift medical items. Your phones had been thrashed, barely working even though there was no signal. He tore the hoodie up and wrapped the pieces around your torso, almost like a tourniquet and bandage to keep pressure and stop the bleeding.

“Ahh,” you screamed, the pain unbearable as he tied the cloth tightly. “I’m sorry,” Tom apologized profusely.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“Now, I have to take care of you,” you said, wiping the blood off of Tom’s.

“No, you need to rest. The kids need you alive more than they need me.” “Don’t say that. They love you and they need both of us alive and well, so let me take care of your leg.”

“Alright, even after a helicopter crash you are still bossy” Tom said chucking.

“Not trying to pick a fight here… I’m sorry but this is gonna sting,” You explained, about to clean his gash.

“It’s ok… aahhh” Tom hissed at the stinging sensation from during makeup remover on the cut on his leg.

“Bet you loved that. A way to get back at me for whatever I did that made you so mad at me,” Tom jabbed.

“You know what you did.” “Y/N this is not the time or the place for this discussion and no I don’t.”

“Let’s just get home alive and then we can resume our fight.”

“You said I love you,” Tom mumbled.

“What?”

“When we were going down… you said I love you. Did you mean it?” “Of course I meant it, Tom. We’ve been together for almost 17 years. How could I not love you?” You cried as Tom pulled you into his warm embrace. Even with the harsh breeze he was still warm to the touch.

“I love you too, darling. We will get out of this, I promise.” Tom asserted and you nodded, trying not let the tears fall.

What killed Tom was the uncertainty of it all. He had to have hope, something you were lacking. He had to have faith that you both would be rescued. That you would get to hold Parker and Rosie in your arms again.

Tom knew you would be okay and rise out of this like a Phoenix from the ashes. Overtime, Tom grew to believe you were indestructible. Everything that you had survived was a marvel. Surviving being tortured by a rival mob, almost dying in childbirth, and now a helicopter crash. There was no, if. You had to survive this. It was hard to have hope when he saw how fast you were deteriorating.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Tom asked. Concerned as he noticed your breaths becoming more and more labored.

“I think so, my chest hurts though. It’s getting harder to breathe.” You said, before breaking into a fit of coughs, coughing into your hand. Panic started to arise as small increments of bloods stained your hand.

“Baby, you have to stay with me. Think about Parker and Rosie,” Tom whispered.

“Y/N, we both need to stay awake,” Tom pleaded. “I know, it’s just getting harder to,” you said, your eyes begging to close.

“I know baby. But, Parker and Rosie are waiting for us to come home. They need you Y/N, just like do,” Tom said, cupping you cheek and moving towards you, so you were side by side. Allowing you to rest you head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. For the past weeks, I’ve been so lonely in our bed without you. I’m so sorry that I accused you of cheating.”

“I am too, love. Never in a million years would I cheat on you. You have to know that. I’m so lucky to have you. I never slept with or even kissed Jazz, there’s been someone killing my men at the mob —.” He said, kissing your temple. This kiss was one of longing, he just wanted you to be his again.

“Shh, it’s ok. I don’t want the last words I ever hear to be an explanation of your supposed infidelity.” You said, using the last of energy to let out a strained laugh.

“Y/N, baby you’re not dying ok? You can’t die. Just promise me, you’ll stay awake until help comes,” Tom begged. He couldn’t lose you, not after everything that has happened. He needed you and he always will. “You know I don’t like making promises I can’t keep” you whispered, trying like hell to stay awake as a few tears fell.

It felt like hours, the waiting. The sun had set. Tom had a plan to get you both rescued, when a plane or helicopter flew overhead he would use your compact mirror to reflect the sun. Granted it was a brilliant idea when the sun was still out. If you wouldn’t succumb to your wounds by morning the temperature would certainly kill you both. You had lost all color in your face, looking like a ghost.

You weren’t unconscious but you weren’t very talkative either, which scared the life out of Tom.

Each hour Tom’s hope would fade. He never wanted it to end like this. He demanded he be the one who went first. Tom couldn’t imagine what a world without you would look like.

If it had to be this way, killed, both your prime at least he was holding you in his arms. He was close enough to the point where, if it happened, he could hear your breathing stop along with the beating of your heart. Feeling you tiny labored breaths against his neck.

5 hours, Tom had been holding you, praying you survive, praying he survives along with you.

5 hours and he was ready to give up as he saw you drift off slowly towards a deep sleep. “I’ll see you on the other side, darling” he whispered before letting his eyes flutter to a close.

Back home, everyone was secretly panicking inside. Nikki couldn’t imagine losing her eldest son, neither could Harry and Sam losing their brother. Harry had left to be a part of the search and rescue team. As soon as Paddy got word, he was on the first flight out of Monte Carlo. Dom and all the boys were really trying to keep it together for Rosie and Parker’s sake.

They all had left the news on, praying that it would be announced that you and Tom were found, alive and well. Most of the news updates were irrelevant to the Hollands. They had already known, there was a pilot, even though Tom had been taking flying lessons for years and was skillful at it. They also already knew you were on a business trip. Nothing was really news to them anymore.

“I’m going to make some tea. Anybody want a cup?” Nikki asked, needing a distraction from the chaos. “Yes,” replied Rosie. “Please,” responded Parker. “That’d be wonderful darling,” said Dom. “Just what the doctor ordered. Let me help you with that,” said Sam. They were all big fans of a cup of tea. What couldn’t tea fix?

DING DONG

Rang the door bell. Nobody was really up for visitors but, I would be rude to not answer. Hoping it not some nosy reporters trying to get a story from broken family members of you and Tom.

“Rosie could get that, please?” Nikki called from the kitchen.

“Sure Grandma,” Rosie replied somberly. Opening the door to the last person she expected to see but the first person she wanted to see. After her parents, of course.

“I just came to see if you were okay. My dad is doing everything he can through the business side… I know you need your space. This was a mistake, I’ll go.” Henry said, staring at the ground. “Please, stay,” Rosie muttered, teary-eyed from all the crying.

“You mean it?”

“I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Hey, come here. They’ll be okay.” Henry said, wrapping his arms around her. Oh god, how missed comforting her.

“Henry, I’m so scared. What if we can’t find them?”

“Roo, we will find them. You have to have hope.” “I keep thinking we find them, but they’re dead.” “You can’t think like that,” he said, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“I missed you. Thanks for being here, you’re a nice distraction” “I’ll always be here,” he whispered, cut off by Rosie’s lips against his. It didn’t take long for him to kiss back. This was his second chance and he wasn’t going to miss it.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Rosie said, pulling away.

“No, I’m sorry. I really screwed up. I never should’ve broken up with you. I love you too much, Rosie Louise Holland. Take me back?”

“I’ve always loved you, Henry Maxwell Osterfield. Of course,” reassured Rosie. Capturing his lips once more in a more passionate yet gentle kiss. “Wait, I have something for you,” Henry stopped, pulling out something from his back pocket.

“That is, if you still want it,” he explained, holding you the silver charm necklace adorned with a H and a R. “Duh, div. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Rosie quipped as he clasped the necklace together. “There. Now it’s back in its rightful place,” she said, the biggest smile adorning her face. “Rosie, get in here! There’s an update,” called Parker from the living room.

Rosie pulled Henry through foyer and to the family room for the news. She tensed at the thought of the words “2 DEAD” displaying across the silver screen.

“We’ve just got word that both Tom and Y/N have been found. We are unaware of their condition. They are being airlifted to a hospital in Barcelona. Hopefully we can update you on that once families members have been informed. The pilot is still missing. Please stay with us as we continue to update you on this story,” announced the newscaster. Everyone rejoiced, there were no longer sad tears only happy ones. They were all on the first flight out including Harrison and Henry.

It was miracle, they found you when they did. Harry was part of team in rescuing you and Tom. He refused to sleep until he brought you both back home.

“We found them!” A loud speaker sounded from the chopper flying above. The rescue was eminent, you and Tom were found.

“Get two stretchers over here,” called one of the rescuers.

“Tom? Can you hear me? It’s Harry,” Harry said, trying to wake Tom.

“Harry?” Tom whispered, slightly stirring awake.

“Yes, you’re saved. We got you and we are on our way to the hospital.”

“What about Y/N? She’s lost a lot of blood. Please tell me she’s ok,” Tom pleaded, eyes barely even open.

“They got her in the other chopper. She’s gonna be ok, I promise,” Harry stammered.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Tom whispered before being consumed by darkness.

A/n: I just want to apologize here, I'm sorry. I'm so in love with this chapter and couldn't wait to share it with all of you.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist:@thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader

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dumbdancemomssideblog · 4 years

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S1E1: The Competition Begins

okie dokie first ever episode of dance moms rewatch starts now :0 i actually remember watching this the very first time it aired on lifetime because i was channel surfing and saw a commercial for it earlier that day. that was the summer between 8th and 9th grade. ah memories... i didnt know what to expect because i did dance when i was a kid but not on a competition team and it was mostly ballet so i was pretty unfamiliar with this whole world.

anyway lets begin. this is probably gonna be a longer post than what i’ll end up writing for the other episodes in season 1 bc the first episode introduces so much info, just a heads up

Act 1: (aside: yes its insufferable to divide this into “acts” when its really just like “segments separated by commercial breaks” but thats how they’re called in actual tv scripts so im just going with that cuz i cant think of a better/easier way uwu)

god this is so fucking early 2010s lmao

i miss these days where they were just talented nobodies from pittsburgh on a low budget reality tv show that nobody even knew would be successful. and the bad hair and makeup but idk if that was also just a 2011 thing lol

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES GREEN SCREEN INTROS IM DYING

the chalkboard !!!! they werent doing the pyramid on the mirror yet

(apparently abby never did anything similar to the pyramid thing but the producers made her and it became a whole Thing on the show and thats why the moms were like wtf is this bullshit the first week)

mackenzie looks like a toddler. chloe is so tiny. theyre the 2 who changed the most physically over the course of the show

i remember watching this for the first time being used to ballet lyrical and jazz but never having done or really seen acro/gymnastics in dance choreo and being SO flabbergasted. i was thinking “a chin stand is not dancing what the actual hell” and yknow what? i was right

melissa: “my boyfriend knows how much i spend on dance because he signs the checks...............hermehhemrherrmehermh” (the most awkward laugh omg)

maddie is wearing a fucking bumpit in her hair i cannot

melissa deadass just said out loud “im here for my daughter im not here to make friends” ok everybody mark that one off on your catty women’s reality tv show bingo card!

camera man accidentally getting in the shot filming right in front of the huge wall-mirror.... what is this, amateur hour? i’ll let it slide since its the first day of filming rehearsal but step it up, boys

aw i forgot about maddie getting sick and crying :/ poor kid

melissa saying “i cant stand a chid that’s sick” sounds so edited like the intonation made it seem to me like they just cut her off mid-sentence i love lifetime

oh this was still when they were wearing normal stuff to class/rehearsal like black leotards bc they werent getting sent a trillion crazy 2-piece dancewear outfits for free yet bc they werent famous, man those were the days

Act 2:

[obligatory b-roll footage of downtown pittsburgh]

the maddie chloe paige trio !!!! this is making me feel so nostalgic

“knees together, paige. you’re bow-legged, you need to fix that”

“you’re tall, you’re skinny, you’re a beautiful girl, you can do better than this. FOCUS” shes like 10 abby what the hell

“people think im tough and i guess i am but i would rather be the one to make your kid cry in the privacy of my studio than at an open-call audition in front of hundreds of people”

okay unpopular opinion alert: i agree with a lot of what abby says about stuff like this but her delivery is flawed, to but it euphemistically, that being said i think the production team of the show and the fame inflating her ego changed all of this somewhere over the course of the second season and its really sad to see :/ i can expand on that thought later tho

aw paige crying bc abby correcting her (but not saying anything personal or out of line, just technique corrections (at based on what we were shown, we dont know everything she said oop)) shes a sensitive kid she never should have been put on this show :(

paige looks exactly like her mom i didnt realize that before

nia and holly were done so dirty throughout the whole series in terms of the narrative the producers set up about nia being the weakest link :/

Act 3:

cathy’s entire involvement in the show from the very beginning was so painfully obviously scripted (or at least heavily staged)

vivi was also done dirty by the show’s narrative and she was only 6 and they presented her as like the butt of the joke bc her mom’s “character” was crazy and also she wasnt good at dance. i wonder how she feels about the show now that shes a teenager hmm. she really seemed not to give a fuck about dance for better or for worse when she was a kid tho so maybe she doesnt care ?

in what universe would an owner of another competitive dance studio bring her own kid to another studio more than an hour’s drive away, AND be under the impression that she could compete with them in a week, especially when they showed the kids’ and moms’ shocked reaction at the start of the episode to having to learn a dance in a week and compete it? like really what is the point of cathy and vivi being a part of this show im so ????

Act 4:

THE MINISTER DAWN OUTBURST HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS

this fight is about 50% of what got them a full season 1 and then things took off from there tbh. the other 50% was the electricity dance but thats a point for next episode..... :)

“you’re a minister act like one” “YOU’RE RIGHT I AM A MINISTER! LET’S PLAY THE BIBLE GAME ABBY, WHEN JESUS SAW THINGS THAT WERE WRONG HE WENT AFTER THEM, AND YOU’RE NOT GOING TO DO THIS TO MY KID” ma’am i think the wrongs jesus addressed were of slightly more importance than a preteen being told she cant take a dance class if shes violating the studio’s dress code

this is so good bc it wasnt staged afaik and there are regular students all throughout the building just STARING at them like lmao what even is going on, so im pretty sure this is real???

regardless, yeah dont wear socks and a tshirt to an acrobatics class, thats common fucking sense

another cameraman-in-mirror sighting, but its hard to think about angles when filming spontaneous drama like this, so i wont count it against them

“you called me fat” (i remember that being in the episode but thats not on the episode available through lifetime on demand that im watching from my moms tv hmmmmmm) “i told you to close and tuck in your two-piece costume, theres a big difference. HOW CAN YOU REMEMBER THAT BUT YOU CAN’T REMEMBER TO TURN YOUR FEET OUT” uh scream

she really called the police on this woman i cannot handle this. can you imagine being a police officer responding to this call?

“we have a parent thats out of control. pardon? no shes doesnt have weapons, just her mouth” iconic

im sorry im still not over the hair and makeup. the flat hair with the side bangs. the black pencil eyeliner applied all the way around the eye. why did any of us think this was a look :( why did we do this :(

Act 5:

they went all the way to phoenix to compete 3 numbers, only 2 of which are shown in the episode.

i think this is the only time they ever went to west coast dance explosion because its an actual competition and they wouldnt allow filming after this lol i think they did go to wcde one weekend in addition to a competition where they were filming but it wasnt shown or mentioned at all

abby not wanting brooke and paige to have a french manicure on stage if theyre the only ones in the group with the french tips is perfectly valid idk why it was framed as some crazy micromanaging shit

i also am really not a fan of the whole “high functioning alcoholic wine mom/crazy stage mom” schtick they were pushing for the first few episodes of this show

in retrospect i feel like so many of the quips in this episode were intentionally fucking crazy just to get the audience engaged enough to want to watch more episodes...

“see those girls down there, those girls with the legs? thats who you’re up against, so step it up”

abby warning them that its dangerous for their little party hats to slip when they’re doing aerials and pirouettes and stuff: “what if you were at radio city music hall and they had the ice rink out and you were doing a side aerial and fell 13 stories down and died, huh?” fantastic point abby thank you for saying that to 5 girls ages 8-12 less than 5 minutes before they went on stage. perfect time for a teaching moment like that :)

i forgot how bad the camera work was in the first few episodes for footage of their performances. like they really didnt think the show’s audience would actually want to watch the kids dance, the producers and editors thought we just wanted to see stage mothers yelling at each other lol

also the mic feed over the music of abby talking to herself giving them corrections while watching them dance on stage.... im so glad they quit doing that. i dont remember them doing it like that for any other episode, i hope im right

this choreo is very basic and its a cute dance i guess but its very cringe in some places and for the first episode this is such a forgettable group routine

their scandalized reaction to placing third and the sad piano music is so funny honestly

and maddies reaction in the interview which was almost definitely fed to her by the producers where shes like “i win all the time i dont really know what its like to LOSE i always win or get runner up” so many of maddies lines from season 1 interviews sound so fake and she was probably too naive to know they were getting her to say that stuff so they could paint her as a conceited brat (she was EIGHT)

the trio costume was so ugly im sorry (is it supposed to be like a 50s pinup bathing suit?) (and the headband thing looks so bad) and also the music is bad but they had no real authority over that bc of copyright stuff

chloe’s headpiece coming forward and the ensuing drama was another moment in the episode that really solidified public interest in the show imho....

“YOU’RE IN THE BAR HAVING A DRINK AND YOUR KID’S HEADPIECE IS FALLING OFF” “it did not FALL OFF it CAME FORWARD it was FINE!!!”

“mistakes happen, we’re human.” “YOU are. mistakes like that dont happen to me”

and then the “next time on dance moms” with the WILDLY INAPPROPRIATE electricity dance, of course. genuinely that was really smart of the producers in terms of structuring things to generate intrigue lol. and obviously it ended up working....

#dance moms #s1e1 #season 1

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thosequeenboys · 5 years

Text

Weep Not for the Memories (John Deacon x Freddie Mercury)

Summary: John is devastated after Freddie’s death. A nighttime visit from his departed friend helps him contemplate moving forward, as he grapples with the loss.

A/N: Yup, this is sad. BUT I try to be a glass-is-half-full sort of gal, so the story shows how Freddie helps John cope with the loss by keeping their memories close and embracing all the good in his life as he considers his future. Here’s to lovely memories of Freddie, to those Queen boys who loved him – and still do and this community that celebrates him!

Special thanks to @painkiller80 for providing great edits and to @melisa-may-taylor72 for those Japan videos, which showed me the perfect outfit for Freddie :)

Warnings: Mention of death, sorrow, some tooth-rotting song lyrics (bolded & referenced at the end)

The November Sunday morning dawned grey and damp as most did that time of year. A wind whipped up the fallen leaves and blew them into almost perfect whirling oblong circles. He arose and prepared for the day. She stayed sleeping on her side, cuddled under the blankets. Once downstairs, he started the kettle for tea and ventured to the doorstep to pick up the newspaper that leaned carelessly against the front door. There it was: Freddie’s announcement of his illness.

John was surprised but not shocked. The reality they had been living with for years was finally revealed in black and white. And with it, there was no more denying, no hope that he would be cured and no thinking that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as it really was. Of course, they knew the truth from his deterioration and his rueful jokes, but so long as it wasn’t officially announced in print, they could still hope -- or deny the harsh reality. He folded up the paper and shoved it into the entry foyer shelf between boots and hats and scarves.

He carried on with the morning routine, preparing breakfast before church. The kids started to amble down the steps and he corralled them around the kitchen table to eat, keeping he banter light, responding to them as needed, mustering great concentration to be in the moment. Veronica joined them, holding the youngest’s hand cajoling them to finish up and dress for church, which they did. Attired and groomed neatly, they gathered by the door without fussing or fighting, bantering or bossing, asks or antics, as though they anticipated the ominous afternoon that lay before them. After church, the kids scattered to the family room turning to regular Sunday pre-lunch activities: games, books and crafts. John joined them eager to distract himself, as Veronica prepared lunch.

The drizzle started hitting the large window, laying wet tracks on the glass. John turned on all the lights. He welcomed the bright bursts that contrasted the grey landscape and sat down. Suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of tires on gravel. He peered out the window and saw one, then two cars enter the wide driveway. The cars parted, peeling to opposite sides of the circular drive, and parked, forming the base of a heart. The boys exited their cars, pulling their coats tightly. They met and the tall one’s arm gently touched the other’s lower back, as they walked toward the house, their feet crunching.

“John…” Veronica called, her voice shaking. They all knew it would happen-some version of this-and now that it was here, it began to unfold in slow motion.

“I know.” John said, rising and walking out of the family room toward the entry foyer where she now stood. She extended her hand, brushing it down his arm as he grabbed a coat from a hook and put it on while opening the heavy wooden door.

And, at that moment, John knew that once he walked out that door, his life would never be the same. What lay ahead for them, he couldn’t say. How he’d deal with the avalanche of emotions, he didn’t know. How many memories would fade over time, he couldn’t imagine. Crossing the threshold to that uncertainty, into the dampness, he felt fullness rush to his chest. Emotions ricocheted within himself, the feelings kept at bay for so long. He met the boys in the middle of the driveway. Brian extended his long arm and pulled John in, his other arm now tight around Roger. Before Brian spoke, John’s tears started to flow.

“He’s gone, Deacy.” Brian’s wet eyes bore into John’s as he brought John and Roger close to him. They huddled together in the rain, their own tears raining down collectively.

“Do you, would you like to come in.” John asked quietly after a few moments, as they were standing in the rain, and his politeness overcame him.

Roger broke away. “ I can’t.” his voice cracked. “I keep hearing Phoebe telling me on the phone. It’s too much. I gotta go.” He slid his hand down Brian’s arm, letting it linger just a few seconds against Brian’s hand as they stared at each other. He broke away and turned to hug John. “See you at the funeral,’ he said as walked toward his car.

Brian rubbed John’s back. “Do you want to talk a bit?”

“I…I don’t know,” John said between tears. “I gotta keep it together. For the kids. for Ronnie.”

“We’ll have time. Here I wrote down the funeral information,” Brian took a neatly folded sheet of paper from his inner jacket pocket. “We’ll meet there and then go to lunch. Just the three of us.”

“Yeah. It’s just the three of us, I suppose. For now.” John said. He took the paper. Brian looked at him curiously, but remained silent as John hugged him, letting the tall man hold and soothe him.

The funeral came and went and the week passed in a blur. Roger and Brian did an interview and talked about Fred’s last days, the intrusive press, the stigma of AIDs and homosexuality, the Mercury Phoenix Trust and a future Memorial Concert. John couldn’t believe they could be so articulate and composed, holding it together. This was such a contrast to himself. He needed to use every ounce of energy to go through the motions, trying to hold the patchwork pieces of his life together as the threads loosened. But not very well.

Veronica tried to be patient but became increasingly annoyed with his detachment. “I know you are hurting. But, we are here. We are living. We need you. All of you. Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too. The world is beating you down. I’m around for every mood.” (1) She said.

Nights were long and torturous. Veronica got used to sleeping with John flipping around beside her. Memories assaulted him, stirring up tears as he recounted days together that would never be recaptured – or repeated, lurching him into a state of sadness.

Finally, over a week later, exhaustion overcame him, and John fell into a fitful sleep. A breeze circulated through the room and skimmed John, causing him to shiver just as he let himself slide into unconsciousness. Was the window open? he wondered. His eyes flickered, and through them he saw shadows of branches dancing on the bedroom wall, lit by the moonlight. He was too tired to get up to investigate, so he pulled the blanket up around his neck and finally, finally, let his body slide into the rest it craved.

Suddenly he heard that familiar voice, the voice that soothed, cajoled, joked, laughed, created, emoted, sassed, swore, bickered, slayed, agitated, mediated, cackled. Sang. Loved.

“Deacy, Deacy, Darling….”

“Freddie??” John sat up in bed as he glanced toward the wall, seeing Veronica cuddled sleeping. He turned the other way, toward the window, and blinked as his mustached friend came into full view before him: healthy, muscled and fit, dressed in tight white pants with a red sash belt, his white wife beater with the black lightning bold and the red jacket with the similar design.

“Freddie….you look …. like when we were in Japan. We ALL wore white!!”

“Yes! What a wonderful set of shows we had there – over the years, really!” Freddie said wistfully.

Deacy felt a jolt of energy rush through him. He was uplifted more than he had been in weeks. The chill in the room had vanished. “You’re healthy, Freddie. Tell me, please! It was it all a nightmare - and I’ve woken up and you’re still here!!!??”

“No, dear, I’m still dead, sorry to say.” Freddie said in his direct way.

“How? what, why, are you here??” Deacy asked, confused.

“I know you’ve been out of sorts and well, I want to help you move on. You know I love you and it pains me to see you suffering.” Fred replied.

“Freddie, I can’t – I just…I don’t know what my life will be like now. And I don’t know if I can play again. Without you. Inside my heart is breaking (2)…” It felt good for John to express his pent-up feelings.

Freddie nodded. “I understand. But - You have to join the living-your beautiful wife and children. They need you and they want you. They love you so. You don’t have to decide about playing, but if you decide you don’t want to – that’s ok. But you better bloody well play at my Memorial concert!” he laughed slyly.

“I will, Fred…I’ll play for you. Of course. When you died, a light went out, the same light that had guided me, brightened me and calmed me. You saw the best there was in me. Lifted me up when I couldn’t reach. You stood by me and I stood tall. I had your love I had it all. I’m grateful for each day you gave me. Maybe I don’t know that much, but I know this much is true. I was blessed because I was loved by you. (3) I keep remembering our times together-the images just come to me. Over 20 years of images. they’re supposed to be soothing but they just hurt.”

“I know. They won’t always hurt, Dear. As they say, ‘don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.’” He chuckled. “See them as celebrations of our lives together.”

“I just can’t believe you’re gone.” Deacy felt his eyes brimming with tears, as Freddie looked at him with love and empathy.

Fred nodded. “You all knew, but the finality of it. But our music lives-and me, in it. And there are all those videos. Miami has them. Who knows one day, maybe they’ll be available to the masses!” (If he only knew) Freddie laughed, stretching his arms in a grand, graceful gesture, as only he could do. “Hear my song. Still think of me the way you’ve come to think of me…Just close your pretty eyes and you can be with me. (4) I will be there with you on your journey. When you need me, I’ll wait here in the silence until you come and sit awhile with me.” (5)

Fred continued: “Deacy-You have to choose to live. And love. You have so much love to share-you always have. You have to redirect your love for me elsewhere-to your family. And create new love, perhaps,” Fred winked.

Deacy looked down with a shy smile.

Fred continued, “Well, I’m sure you and Veronica can work on that! And the band-well, Brian and Roger will have their ideas. You need to do what’s best for you. Whatever that is, It will be ok. You don’t have to figure that out now. Any of it. Just be present – in this present. I know it’s not the one you chose. Hell, I assure you it’s not what I chose either. But unlike me, you have a chance for new chapters-with people who love you.”

Deacy took a deep breath, feeling the words and presence of his friend permeate him and a calmness envelop him. You’re safe in my heart, and my heart will go on. (6)

Suddenly, Deacy felt chilly. He put his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “Freddie, stay awhile!! Let me grab my bass and we can jam a bit - Anything, whatever you like.”

“I can’t, Deacy. Now the wind has changed direction and I’ll have to leave.” (7)

“Please Fred,” Deacy said as he lurched to touch Freddie, who backed up toward the window and started to fade. But before he did, he said, “I love you, Deacy. Remember our chat. I’ll always be with you-keeping an eye on you, watching your lovely family, laughing at your jokes. Focus on the future and the love in your life. Don’t let your life pass you by. Weep not for the memories.” (8)

“Freddie, no, no, come back…please, just for a little while longer.” John said frantically and started to cry. Veronica rolled over to John, easing him down on the bed and then swinging her leg and arm onto him, running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s ok, Darling. Did you have a dream about Fred?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Ronnie. He was here. I was awake. We were talking. He looked so good. He….”

“What did he say?” She asked, not debating the interaction he claimed.

“He reminded me of the love I have-with you and the kids. That’s where I belong. I must think of a new life, and I mustn’t give in. (9) And, he said we should …create new love….” He smiled at her.

“Oh, John, what a lovely thought. Let’s pick that up tomorrow.” She giggled. “Now, you need to sleep. Lie back, baby, let me kiss you to sleep.” And she planted soft kisses on his neck and cheek and rested her head on his chest. As John drifted off, their video of The Show Must Go On came to him. The images, the music and lyrics lulled him to sleep. I guess I’m learning. I must be warmer now. I’ll soon be turning, round the corner now. Outside the dawn is breaking but inside in the dark, I’m aching to be free….Fairy tales of yesterday grow but never die, I can fly, my friends. (10)

In a few minutes, Veronica heard his steady breathing of sleep.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, dear, sweet Freddie,” before she joined John in a welcoming, deep slumber.

SONG NOTES

All of Me, John Legend (People’s Sexiest Man Alive, 2019!!)

The Show Must Go On, Queen

Because You Loved Me, Celine Dion

Teo Torriatte, Queen

You Raise Me Up, Josh Groban

My Heart Will Go On, Celine Dion (wow, two songs by CD, Ay, Caramba!)

Border Song, Elton John

I Will Remember You, Sarah McLachlan

Memory, From the Musical “Cats”

The Show Must Go On, Queen

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #freddie mercury #johnica #deacury #queen fan fic #john deacon fanfiction #john deacon fanfic

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theunredeemable · 5 years

Text

Stealing the Rich

Chapter two: Dark Awakenings! Art work done by the wonderful @spicybon

Weiss watched the others in the boarding pod carefully. The former crew of The Silent Breeze , those that had accepted the pirates’ offer, were sitting far away from her, nervous about the three pirates that stood near her, trying to avoid catching their eye. No doubt some of there were second-guessing their decision, Weiss thought. Not that she could blame them, feeling nervous herself. Throwing their lot in with pirates, especially those as infamous as the Sun Dragoons, was not a choice they could go back on. She felt her heart sink upon realizing that she wouldn't be welcomed back in her home, and then it sank further realizing that home wouldn't have welcomed her back anyway. A bright flash from the void caught her attention.

Everyone looked out the hatch viewport. The pirates looked on stoically as the other occupants looked in shock as The Silent Breeze was racked with silent explosions.

Yang watched as the trade ship was crippled further by the detonations racing through the interior. She knew that the crew that stayed behind would be safe, gathered into the cargo bay or already shooting off into space in escape pods. Her eyes moved on from the derelict, and onto the other boarding pods, taking count of those that had left, and those that were still extracting themselves. Nodding to herself, she turned away from the view port and pressed her hand to the bio-panel connected to the pilot's door. As it slid open she paused to take a look the shell-shocked woman, frowning.

Looking back to her compatriots, she let out a very quiet series of whistles that only the two Faunus could hear. The Rabbit Faunus looked over to her, then to Weiss, nodding in response. Her orders subtly given and received, Yang entered the pilot's cabin, carefully lowering herself down into the co-pilot's seat. The pilot herself was focused on guiding the pod back home, gently nodding to the music stuck in her head. Remaining silent, she offered Yang a quick smile, then focused back on her task. Chuckling to herself, the blonde reached to the control console, opening up a channel between the two ships. “This is Yang aboard the Steel Parasol, to the New Dawn. Prepare the welcome mat for new family members and warm up those engines. We're heading back to Beacon.”

Static answered her at first while the message was scrambled and sent to her ship. A safety measure designed to ensure that no one they didn't want hearing the message could understand it. A few seconds later the static cleared to allow through a response. “Aye Captain. Was it a good haul this time?” The voice was joyful in its response.

“It was certainly...an interesting one.” Yang looked back to the door for a moment, before opening a holographic data-slate, swiping through the reports inside. “Teams Vixen, Phoenix, and Lupine all report the acquisition of more Lien, as well as a few new volunteers. Coco sent a report saying that she found new experimental Schnee blueprints. Tempest found more parts, Siren more food, and I think I may have stolen a Schnee.”

More temporary static filled the air as the message transmitted. “I'm sorry, the signal must have glitched. Did you say a Schnee?”

“It wasn't a glitch Penny. We found a bona fide Schnee. White hair, blue eyes, everything.”

“I thought we didn't deal with hostages.”

“We don't Penny, and I don't intend on ever starting.” Yang looked back to the door as she spoke, thinking of the poor girl. “She was a hostage I think? Definitely a bad situation though. She asked me to help.”

“Curious.” The voice fell silent as the cabin was filled with static. Yang waited for a response, before the voice cut in again. “I must evaluate this information. I'll open the hanger bay now, and engines will be prepared to jump within twenty minutes.”

“Thank you Penny. See you soon.” Clicking off the communicator, Yang leant back into the chair with a sigh, hand unconsciously rubbing her right elbow. She looked down at the injured appendage with a frown, before sighing. The pilot watched her out of the corner of her eye, tilting her head in a questioning manner. Yang smiled softly and shrugged. “I'm fine Neo, still not used to it I guess.” Neo nodded, frowning, but focused on piloting her vessel home.

Back in the main cabin, Weiss was slowly withdrawing further into herself, holding herself as she tried to ignore the crushing uncertainty of her future, as well as the former crew of The Silent Breeze . She barely even noticed the figure sitting down next to her, only noticing when they placed their coat over her shoulders. The scent of cinnamon hit her nose, and the warmth of the coat helped combat the cold she felt inside. Looking up to find the one responsible, she found herself staring into warm hazel eyes and a soft, kind smile. “T-thank you, Miss...?”

“Velvet. Just Velvet, no miss. And don't worry. You're safe now. We'll make sure to look after you and protect you.”

Weiss stared deeply into those kind eyes, seeking any sign of deception on the Faunus's part. “Is that a promise you can keep?” She found herself becoming dangerously lost in those eyes, for instead of deception she saw a deep-seated warmth and intelligence. She felt her heart flutter and frowned at the notion.

“Of course, I promise you that I won't let anything bad happen to you?”

Weiss felt herself relax at the promise, and quietly repeated. “Anything?” Velvet nodded her affirmation, and Weiss let out a sigh of relief. In that moment she felt all the stress and weariness of the past three weeks catch up to her at once. With a yawn her eyes slowly fell shut, even as she was speaking. “g-good. I'll....I'll hold you to that.” her unconscious form slid sideways and into Velvet's arms as the Faunus made sure to catch her. After making sure the the Schnee wasn't in danger, and simply asleep, Velvet looked up at her partner with an amused smile.

“Isn't she adorable, Blake?”

“Hmm. I won't deny that she is, but we have to be careful, Cinnamon. She is a Schnee after all.”

Velvet pouted and looked down at the sleeping woman in her arms, careful to not wake her up or drop her. “But Midnight....I don't think she's like the others. There's a kindness to her. She asked me to protect her.” Blake couldn't help but frown at that, thinking over the possible meanings to such a request, while Velvet continued to look at Weiss, before looking back up to her partner. “Can we keep her?”

“She's not a pet, Velvs.”

“You know that's not what I meant.” Velvet said in a sing-song voice.

Blake sighed with a fond smile and shook her head. “I know, but I'm not sure if so soon after being abducted-”

“Saved!”

“...Ok, saved, by pirates is such a good idea to invite someone in.” Both fell silent as the door slid open again, Yang standing in the frame. “News, Captain?”

“Neo's pulling us in. How's our guest?” She looked over to Velvet and Weiss, quirking an eyebrow. “Asleep I see...and in the arms of Velvet. Is so soon appropriate, when you just met?”

Velvet stuck her tongue out at the two of them. “She just passed out, looks like everything caught up with her.” Velvet looked down at her again with a soft frown. “I wonder why she was on that ship. It didn't seem willing.”

Yang stood in silence, before sighing and running her hand through her hair. “When we touch down take her someplace safe that she can sleep. I've got to see to the welcoming committee.” Velvet and Blake nodded, with both of them looking at each other in silent communication. Before long Blake let out a quiet, fond sigh.

“Fine. We'll keep her in our quarters for the time being. Just until we find her her own.”

Static filled the compartment, before being replaced by the voice of Penny. “All boarding pods please proceed to your usual docking stations, and welcome home.” The occupants looked out the viewport and saw The Silent Breeze disappear behind large metal doors. A few seconds later and the vessel jostled lightly as it touched down on the landing deck. With a hiss of steam, the hatch slowly opened, and the occupants slowly and tentatively exited. A few of them gasped in wonder at the size of the hangar, having never set foot aboard a battle cruiser before. Others gasped upon seeing how many crewmen were stationed in this single part of the ship, as well as the rusty metal girders that made up the floor. The voice chimed throughout the hanger bay again. “Hello, and salutations new family members! I know many of you will be confused, but do not fear. Please exit the boarding pods, and our captain will soon address you all!”

“Well that's my cue. Look after her you too.” Blake and Velvet nodded, the cat Faunus carefully picking up the unconscious woman and cradling her in her arms. Yang watched the two make their way through the controlled mayhem of her crew working, admiring the way they moved like water over pebbles. Smiling, she made her own way through the crowd of former trade ship crew, and up onto a platform prepared for such occasions. Looking out over them she did a quick head count, making it to be that twenty men and women had accepted the offer to join them. Clearing her throat to get all their attention, she threw her arms open wide in welcome. “Welcome to the New Dawn ! I hope that in time that some of you will come to think of it as home, and I hope that you do think of it now as a new chance at life.

“I know you'll have heard the tales and seen the holo-vids about us, about the Vale expanse. That we're pirates. That we're filthy, backwards, and cruel. That the Atlas government took one look at us and called us a waste of resources. But I'm here to tell you that was a lie. In truth, they ran away. They ran, because we would not bow to them. They ran, because we fought tooth and nail for every world. Are we pirates? Yes! I won't lie to you. But we don't steal from just anyone. We steal from the oppressors. From the SDC, from the Atlesian Military, from the Mistrali Regime.

“There are many factions of us, but we, the Sun Dragoons, belong to Beacon, and we have a strict code of rules that we expect you to follow. We are not cruel. We steal, but we do not kill unless necessary or to prevent further cruelty. We steal from the rich, not the poor. Not for profit, but to provide to those who cannot provide to themselves.” She paused for a moment and shrugged slightly with a laugh. “And a little bit a profit. We all need to make Lien right?

“But above all, We are free. We are responsible for our own mistakes, and we are family.” She stopped to look out amongst the crowd, still smiling. She took note of the faces. Some seemed already swayed by her words, soft smiles and looks of relief. Others were on the verge of being convinced, but were still suspicious. “But don't just take my word for it. You'll see when we arrive at Beacon. For now though, rest, eat. We'll assign all of you temporary quarters so you can get some sleep.” Jumping down from the platform, she made her way back through the crowd. They parted before her in an effort not to hinder her progress as she made her way to the elevator at the far end of the hanger.

-------------------------------------------

Weiss slowly woke up, stretching her limbs and yawning. Sitting up in the bed she looked around the unfamiliar room with a frown. It didn't look anything like her room on The Silent Breeze . For one it was far more lived-in. Two bookshelves occupied the far wall of the quarters, lined with various novels and histories from what she could see from the bed. Slowly standing up she felt the cold metal of the floor on her feet. Looking for her shoes, she found them carefully placed next to the bed. Slipping them back on she began to properly explore the room she found herself in.

She couldn't but help but notice the lingering scent of cinnamon in the air, mingling with the sticks of incense someone had left burning. Continuing to walk around she found where it had been left, an ornate holder sitting on a small counter connected to a small built in kitchen. The kitchen itself was simple and stocked with long-lasting preserved foods, intended to keep the occupants of the quarters fed for long journeys. Moving away from the kitchen area Weiss inspected the books on the shelves, and couldn't help but smile at the disparity between the two. One was full of older books, high fantasy and fairy tales from across the galaxy, as well as a full shelf dedicated to romance novels. The other held cook books, travel guides and photo albums, and a small shelf dedicated to fiction.

Turning away she cast a glance over the room again to take in the rest of the surroundings. A mocha-coloured love chair occupied part of the room, facing a large screen that had been set into the wall. Humming to herself Weiss dragged her hand across the back of the chair, feeling the fabric beneath her fingers and looked around the room one final time, noting the two doorways, one near the bed she had just vacated, the other opposite the kitchen. “Whose room am I in?” Pondering aloud, she sat down at the edge of the seat, waiting for an answer to make itself apparent.

She didn't have long to wait as one of the doors slid open with a beep, giving Weiss a quick glimpse of the corridor outside before the view was blocked by Velvet entering. “Oh, you're awake! How do you feel?” Velvet rushed inside and sat next to Weiss, taking her hands into her own. Blake followed shortly into the room, but instead made her way over to the kitchen.

“Um, I'm feeling fine. How did I get in here? Last I remember...”

“You passed out after we talked in the boarding pod. You must have been exhausted.”

Weiss frowned and looked at the hands holding hers, trying to remember through the fog of sleep. “I was. I...Father.” Her frown deepened as she almost scowled as the word left her tongue. “He was punishing me.”

“Punishing you for what?” Blake asked, looking over to the two women on the chair from the kitchen, still suspicious of the Schnee scion.

“I had begun to question his methods... about how he was treating Faunus and his shady business deals. Next thing I knew I was being sent far away...to Argus Augmentics.”

“Why there?”

Weiss's shoulders dropped as she remembered the taunts of Gole and Mercury. “He was selling me.” She missed the looks of surprise on the two Faunus' faces, and the expressions of horror they gave each other as she continued speaking. “He made me think I was going there to broker a deal. But, I was the deal. Test out new cybernetics on me, I think take away my free will or brainwash me. I don't know. But... I can't ever go home.” Tears welled up in her eyes as reality hit home, and fell silent as she was once again taken into Velvet's arms, and clung on tight as the woman tried to soothe her.

“I promised you that I'd protect you. That isn't home anymore. This is, if you want it to be.” Velvet looked up to Blake with a sad look in her eyes, ears twitching in silent communication. Blake nodded, and started to rummage around in one of the lower cabinets, pulling out a tea set. As she prepared to make some tea for the three of them, Velvet gently rubbed Weiss's back soothingly as the young woman silently cried.

A few minutes later, Weiss pulled away from the hug, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry, not for him.”

Velvet shook her head in disagreement. “No, you're right to cry. Though he's a monster, he is...was, your father. And he betrayed you.”

Weiss looked down at her hands again, clenching them into fists as her sorrow turned into a defiance. “Where am I anyway?”

“In our quarters aboard the New Dawn .” Blake gently placed a cup of tea into Weiss's hands as she answered, passing another one to Velvet as she opened up a hidden compartment. Pulling out a fold-out chair, she sat down with the other two after getting her own tea. “Being the left and right hands of the captain comes with certain perks.”

“Such as the second largest quarters in the ship.” Velvet chimed in with a beaming smile. Weiss couldn't help but smile softly in return, optimism radiating off the Faunus. “We should probably introduce ourselves properly. I'm Velvet Scarlatina, Second Officer of the Sun Dragoons. My partner here is Blake Belladonna, the First Officer.”

Weiss gently sipped her tea before responding. “I'm Weiss. I guess, just Weiss now.”

“Well, just Weiss. You can stay with us.” Velvet smiled kindly, warmth radiating from her. Blake looked at her partner lovingly, nodding in agreement.

A new voice chimed in, from over hidden speakers. “We are now exiting the jump. Would Blake and Velvet please report to the bridge before the next jump.”

Blake sighed and took out a small communicator from her pocket. “Yes Penny, we'll be right there.” Clicking it off and placing it back into her pocket, she stood up and placed her mostly full cup of tea down onto a side table. “Please make yourself at home. The shower's through the other door if you need it.”

“Thank you. I think I might use it, but I don't have any clothes.”

“Borrow some of mine. We should get going Velvs.” Blake smiled kindly at Weiss, gesturing for Velvet to follow as she made her way out of the room. Velvet quickly stood up to join her, waving goodbye to Weiss as she went.

As the door slid shut, Weiss looked around the room one final time, before finishing off her tea and going into the bathroom. Inside was a large room with eggshell blue tiling. Smiling at the surprisingly innocent colour choice for pirates, Weiss fully entered the room, undressing as she went. Turning on the water, she waited until it was hot until fully stepping into the shower. Turning her face up into the stream and closing her eyes, she let it cascade over her and wash away her worries. For the first time in perhaps her entire life, she felt safe.

The water soothed her bruised body and hurting soul. As she relaxed, she never even felt the intricate swirls that covered her back begin to thrum with energy, casting a soft blue glow.

-------------------------------------------

Deep in the bowels of the New Dawn , something began to stir. Long had it slept in the metal behemoth, hibernating as it waited for its choice meal to make itself known. It knew not the passage of time, for it was far too old and far too alien to consider such concepts. It sniffed the stale air that surrounded it, and growled lowly.

Dark red eyes opened up in the darkness, glowing with malice. Food had finally arrived.

#stealing the rich #rwby #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #Blake Belladonna #velvet scarlatina #black velvet #blake/velvet #neopolitian (rwby)#penny rwby

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lentaska · 5 years

Text

Deep Water - Part 1

A/N: Featuring Sami Callihan. WWII setting, OFC, third-person POV. Due to the history of UK and Poland being allies in war, Sami’s character setting is a soldier from British army.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from wrestling, I do not claim any ownership over them. Any resemblance to real-life historical events, organizations, locales and countries/union is entirely coincidental.

Tagging people who gave likes to my work: @thecristsandcallihanmadness @monstersmaid @cherryfinolahobbes @i-ship-it-okay @ohcristimhookedonhavocimsodunne @clynch126 @amariemoore @jonmoxley4ever @morie-leigh Thank you for your support (also please let me know if tagging is not ok for you)

In dusty air, she sat at the corner of the room, right beside window. The walls rattled from explosion nearby, her whole world was shattering, piece by piece. She covered her ears, knees against her chest, but the deafening noise did not leave her alone.

They are killing us.

The agonizing thought took away her last hope.

A familiar voice echoed in her mind.

Sing, sweetie. Sing for us, sing for our mother land.

Those were father’s words before he left. He was one of the many people who were taken away by the army. He never returned.

Tears fell down along her cheek. She opened mouth and started to sing, as loud and articulate as she could, in the language she was so proud of. She was sending message to whoever heard the song -

“If I shall die today, stand strong my native land, because I will not die alone.”

Sami Callihan was astonished to witness such desperately beautiful scene.

It was the faint singing that drew his attention at first, he once thought he had acousma - who would sing in the middle of battlefield? But he was wrong. Out of curiosity, he followed the sound to a half-ruined house.

Then he saw her. Slim and soft, eyes covered by medical gauze, hands on ears, singing fearlessly like a phoenix reborn from fire. She was in a white dress smudged by dirt, but she was the most delicate thing he had ever seen.

He stepped forward and grabbed her, the abrupt movement scared her. She yelled something in Polish that he didn’t understand at all.

“Shh, don’t make a sound,” Sami cupped her chin, “or I’ll have to force you to shut up.”

“Nie dotykaj mnie...” she gnashed and fought back, but the lack of eyesight gave her disadvantage. She fell to the dusty ground like a ragged doll.

“Stubborn.” Sami elbowed her hard enough on abdomen to bring her to coma.

To leave her to die with such beautiful voice would be cruel. He carried her out of the house before bomb fell upon them and ran to the truck nearby. He opened the door and stuffed the girl in, the abrupt change of plan was too bold to afford any waste of time, the enemy could show up in any moment.

The truck sped on bumpy street - if the ruin could be called “street” - like prey in the eyes of beast. Watching the ruins outside of window, Sami fell into deep regret, even though he and his country had nothing to so with such military action.

Because doing nothing is also participating.

The condition of the girl was not good, her eyes seemed to be blinded by shrapnel and she hadn’t eaten properly for weeks. Sami managed to find some bread and dried sausage in the damage neighbourhood and brought back to her, however, she refused to eat. Under such circumstance, every single bite of food was lifesaving, Sami didn’t want to waste anything, so he waited another hour and ate the food.

By the dawn, he found an small abandoned house as lodging for the next two days. He didn’t want to stay at one place for long period during war time, so they wouldn’t leave much track.

The house was distant from the city area but had already been searched by the army, not much left behind, Sami found some clothes and limited amount of food. He checked on the girl, she was like a beast covered in wounds, sitting quietly on the dusty mattress, knees drew against chest and face buried in arms. Sami handed over the clothes, ordered, “put them on.”

The Polish girl turned her face away from him. It pissed him off and he almost regretted to save her life, since she didn’t show any sign of communication, all he could feel was vigilance, which baffled and annoyed him.

“You’re gonna say something or not?” Sami asked in exasperated voice.

Unexpectedly, she replied in English, although her Polish accent made the sentence less serious, “stranger, are you expecting me to say thank you?”

“It’s not what I mean. I’m Sami Callihan, what’s your name, lil’ Polish?”

She chose to stay silence and curled up at the corner of the mattress.

Sami sat down at the opposite of her, “I don’t understand why you act this way but at least you can show some gratitude.”

“So why did you say you’re not expecting ‘thank you’? You westerns seem to be not straightforward.”

Sami lost his tongue. The heedless beauty of hers had thorns beneath, but it couldn’t stop him to get closer, like people who were attracted by rose, they wouldn’t care about pain until thorns stuck into skin.

Knowing being entangled in petty things would lead him nowhere, Sami switched the topic, “what’s the reason of you being alarmed?”

“I don’t trust foreigners in war.”

“Britain is Poland’s ally, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“We have no ally anymore. French never means to support us, neither do you, British.”

Looking at her as if she’s a fool, Sami sneered, “listen, we have to take care of our own people first, even an ally has no fucking right to ask us to die for them.”

Shook her head, she said, “you just assume that we consider western people as last hope and salvation. This is our fight, no one will help us because we’re cannon fodder.”

“Ridiculous.” rolled his eyes, Sami mumbled. He had heard of rumour about eastern Europeans when he was still in Britain: vulgar, uneducated and barbaric. The discrimination was always there, especially when the government took in some east Europeans who lost homes in the war. Nevertheless, he still joined the army and volunteered to be sent to Poland.

To run into her was a pure surprise. She was nothing like what the stereotype presented. He wanted to know more about her, not only because of the ingenuous curiosity to a country in eastern land with different society, but also the desire of approaching her that was seeded in him.

He was little bit ashamed to admit the idea of discovering her background, but the moment he realized the questions were trigger to her nightmare, the words were already out, “where is your family?”

The girl seemed to lose her thought for a while. Sami heard her said, “my mother was killed for not being submissive to USSR, my father was taken by the Red Army.”

Sensing her agony, Sami sat closer. He saw her buried her face in arms, shoulder shaking, he wanted to hug her, but he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. “Hey don’t cry,” he tried make himself sound gentle and comforting, “I’m here for you.”

Unexpectedly, she nodded, “thank you...”

“I’m sorry to ask that.”

“You didn’t know.”

Both of them were speechless for quite some time. The suffocating quietness almost swallow Sami alive, then he heard her nonchalant voice:

“What is your story? How did you end up in battlefield?”

“Tell me your name, then I’ll share the story, deal?”

She didn’t reply. When Sami was about to give up on the idea of chatting with her, he heard a whisper:

“Anka...”

Smile grew on his face. She didn’t know that one single word from her could easily cheer him up. She would never have guessed that.

#sami callihan #Wrestling #Wrestling Fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #war setting #writing

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harryandmolly · 6 years

Text

The Long Way Home -3-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, alcohol and drug use, soft yearning eyes

Word count: 4.7k ish

Once the set-skipping gauntlet was thrown, Emma couldn’t take it back.

She knew what it meant to skip the headliner’s first set of the tour. She knew it made her look worse than she probably already does in his eyes, but she couldn’t stand it. She knew if she had to be there, to watch him light up the crowd doing what he loved, singing his soul, she’d have a meltdown. And she doesn’t have time for a meltdown.

The first show in Amsterdam was fine, technically speaking. She got through it as expected with precision and very little style. She should’ve been expecting Shawn and his friends there sidestage but it slipped her mind and she wasn’t mentally prepared. To see him beaming at her like he was a proud older brother after the garbage she just spewed for the masses, it was too much. He was too nice. She didn’t deserve it. She was ashamed.

So she bolted.

She hurried in and out of her dressing room, opting to shower on the bus. She remembers physically feeling the wail of thousands of women as she was exiting the back door of the venue just as he was going on stage. She gritted her teeth against the tears -- tears of embarrassment, exhaustion and heart-wrenching jealousy. She shut herself up in the bus with Tammy and Patsy on her Amazon Echo, staying up too late writing songs she’ll never sing.

It set the tone for the tour. She didn’t mean for it to. She went in to this arrangement knowing keeping her distance was best – it always was, professionally speaking. She didn’t want to become his best friend or his mentee. But she also didn’t want him to think she’s a brat. She’s not a brat.

Ok, she’s definitely a brat, but she’s a hardworking woman who has scraped and fought for all she has. Even if it’s not what she wants.

She hasn’t actively sought out Shawn’s company but she knows she’s not welcome. She glides past his open dressing room door. The rest of the tour crew, plus a few members of her own team, are welcome any time. It’s a big ol’ party. But when she hustles past like she’s got somewhere to be, which she always does, there’s no call of, “hey, Emma! Come join us!”

Fine, it’s easier that way, she reasons. No distractions. She gets her business done – back-to-back radio interviews, weird, invasive Buzzfeed videos that, unfortunately, don’t include puppies like some of the ones she’s seen, and recording her album.

She doesn’t know who started this trend of the mobile recording studio but she hates him or her. Or them, if it’s One Direction like she suspects. Her team wants to capitalize on the success her single hasn’t even had yet by following it up with an album as closely as possible. This means she spends hours locked in a roving recording studio singing the liquid bubblegum-flavored tunes and hearing terms like “mass appeal” and “girl power” so many times they lose all meaning.

But they’re about to find out what kind of girl power she’s really got. It’s single release day. They’re in Oslo for a show and she’s up with the dawn for a live interview with BBC Radio 1 followed by a few more across the U.S. as “Fireheart” is released in a new time zone every hour. She’s finishing her final call with a radio station in Phoenix, she thinks, as she’s sprinting up the stage steps, late for soundcheck. They’ve been rehearsing the song so she can play it on the day of the release. The choreo is kicking her ass. What she really needs is to rest for a few minutes before the show but they do another thorough run-through of the set and she has a “creative call” with the mom-and-Margaret-chosen director of her video. It’s a misnomer – there’s nothing creative about it at all on her end.

She’s not sure she’s stopped talking for more than five minutes all day when Steven finally insists that she sit down with her face in the humidifier in silence. Again, the urge to kiss him rears hard in her shaky chest. She’s staring blankly at her phone with her nose bumping up against the plastic ridge on her personal humidifier, flipping through Instagram when she gets a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Number: hey it’s shawn. just heard the new song, you sound great. issa bop!

She snorts in shock and looks around her even though she’s in the green room alone in her underwear. She lets herself blush and, just for a minute, she fucking loves “Fireheart.”

Her fingers scan fast over the keys.

Thanks :)

It’s all she gives and she suspects it’s all he wants to get.

Shawn’s lying if he says he wasn’t waiting around for midnight in Oslo for “Fireheart” to drop. This is her first non-Disney release and he’s curious to see what she’ll do with it, what he can glean from her personal style.

The song is, at best, generic. It doesn’t even really sound like her, they edited it so heavily. It’s a fucking crime, really, because her voice is beautiful. In the few tracks on her soundtracks where they let her shine, she really shines. He wants to see more of that. But maybe this is what she wanted.

He figures the polite thing to do is text her. She’s still his tour mate even if they haven’t exchanged more than a passing glance or a flat smile in two weeks. It’s what he would want from her, he reasons. Actually, he’d want a whole lot more. And he’s still not wholly sure why.

Her response is quick like she was at her phone fielding a thousand similar messages, which he’s sure she was. It doesn’t invite more conversation which he’s at once grateful for and annoyed by. He drops his phone and walks away for a few minutes, stepping outside the bus.

He’s sitting on the curb in the empty parking lot where the buses are housed when a big white Escalade with tinted windows and the shiniest rims he’s ever seen pulls up. A frazzled assistant-type stumbles out of the passenger side and opens the door for the longest pair of legs he’s ever seen. His eyebrows lift.

The woman attached to the legs is Emma’s mother, there’s no question. The resemblance is uncanny. From the dainty pointed nose to the expensive highlights in her hair to the shape of her lips, it’s Emma in 25 years. Shawn swallows hard.

Emma’s mother steps out of the car like she’s had a lot of practice navigating with those skyscraper legs, something he’s still not good at. She’s staring down at her phone typing a thousand words a minute and muttering something to the assistant who’s so keyed up she looks like she needs a pee. Emma’s mom strides up to the bus with the same long, quick steps Shawn’s used to seeing Emma utilize. She walks in without knocking and that’s the last he sees of her.

There’s something about the way she carries herself that makes him understand Emma a little better now. His mother doesn’t walk like that. His mother doesn’t talk to people that way. His mother definitely doesn’t dress like a 30-year-old Paris Hilton cast-off. If that’s who raised Emma, maybe it’s no wonder.

A couple weeks later, Andrew snags Shawn after his gym session and before breakfast, which is a dangerous time to corner him so Shawn knows it’s important.

He sits at the small picnic table outside the venue in Lisbon and eyes Andrew warily, trying not to pout about the French toast he wants to go hunt down.

“So Margaret and I sat down this morning—”

Shawn’s eyes go wide. This cannot be good.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Andrew pleads before continuing, “We sat down this morning because we’ve been getting calls from the label about… about why you and Emma never seem to interact.”

Shawn sighs and rakes a hand through his sweaty curls. He sits back, remembers there’s nothing to lean against on a picnic bench and slumps forward onto his elbows.

“Yeah,” Shawn prompts.

“So they want you and Emma to be friendly. Not too friendly, just big-brother, little-sister type stuff, just to look like you can stand to be in the same room. A few Snapchats and Insta Stories should do it. It’s a fine line, because they don’t want you to look like you’re dating. We can discuss the details later. Are you… I mean, can you handle this?”

Shawn growls under his breath. “Yeah, I can fucking handle it. I just—” He stops himself. Andrew raises his eyebrows.

“I don’t get why it matters. Why do we have to interact? We’re on tour, we’re not friends. I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

The last sentence sounded a little more vulnerable than Shawn wanted to be, but fuck it. He’s kind of upset. And Andrew won’t judge him.

“It matters for PR. It matters that the label’s artists don’t look like they hate each other. And, if it helps, I don’t think she cares enough about you to hate you.” He snorts the last few words like a joke but they sting Shawn where it counts. He’s gotten good enough at all this to keep it from showing on his face.

“Fine, ok. Whatever.”

Andrew goes to stand but Shawn stops him.

“Does she know about this yet? What did she say?”

Andrew purses his lips. “Emma, ever expressive, said ‘fine’ and walked away.”

Shawn thinks he hears a “to tune up her wicked witch broomstick” under Andrew’s breath as he strolls off to another task but he can’t be sure.

Abject horror is what Emma felt when the order came down from on high that she and Shawn are to interact on social media. Flat disinterest is what showed up on her face.

It was only back in her bedroom that she let herself fist her hands in her hair and squirm about it, so uncomfortable with the idea of spending any more time with him than she has to. At the moment, that’s pretty much limited to bumping into each other in hotel hallways when they’re staying overnight and passing his dressing room if he happens to look up at her while she walks by. The idea of actually staging cute, friendly Snapchats makes her stomach turn with nerves.

He texts her and invites her down to the lobby for coffee at their hotel in Manchester. She’s admittedly grateful that he makes the first move, but she’s still a little miserable at the idea of this weird assignment. But what label wants, label gets. (It’s becoming Margaret’s catchphrase)

He’s standing beside the counter on his phone with a hoodie up over his head to keep a low profile. Joke’s on him, though, because he’s outrageously tall and she can still see those boyish curls peeking out from under the hood. In another life, she could see herself walking up behind him and tucking her arms around his waist to stick her hands in his hoodie pocket.

In this life, she walks fast and loud in her heeled booties to make her presence known. He looks up when he hears her, eyes wide and a little panicked. Her heart clenches. She offers him the flattest smile she can manage.

“Hey,” he says, sliding his phone in the pocket of his tight jeans. She wants to go with it. She clears her throat.

“Hey. Did you order?”

He shakes his head. They walk up to the counter. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares at the chalkboard menu above their heads hopelessly, knowing her order like the back of her hand.

The cashier asks for their orders. Shawn looks to Emma. “Green tea,” she croaks.

Shawn orders a black coffee and hands the woman cash. Emma nods at him in the only thanks she can manage. She can feel her insides vibrating around him and she hasn’t even had any caffeine yet.

“So… we have an assignment,” Shawn tries to joke. His voice is humorless.

She lifts her eyebrows briefly and bobs her head. “Yeah.”

“Should… I mean, should we just take a selfie with our drinks?” he offers. She’s silent. It’s so painful.

“Yeah, ok,” she finally answers, chewing on her lower lip. He watches it disappear under her teeth briefly and reappear a little softer, a little pinker. He almost doesn’t notice their orders come up.

He thanks the barista with a smile and follows Emma to a table. He’s grateful there aren’t many people around to witness this awkward interaction. No one seems to have clocked them at all despite the fact that Emma came downstairs in full make-up and an outfit fit for a Vogue photoshoot. Not that he noticed.

They sit at a tiny round table. Emma crosses her outrageous legs and Shawn fiddles with the settings on his Instagram camera.

“Do you mind if I take it?”

He blinks and looks over at her. Her voice is quiet and a little shy – it’s not the monotone drawl he’s used to. He just nods and puts his phone down.

She swipes into her camera like a pro and holds up her drink next to him. Her hand finds the angle she likes and she makes the happiest face he’s seen on her for the Boomerang she films. He can’t help but smile, too, widening his eyes like he’s never been more excited about anything than drinking coffee with Emma Kingston.

Her expression falls when she drops her hand and moves away from him. She studies the Boomerang, tilts her head and nods. It’s acceptable. She posts it, tagging him with the caption, “caffeine time with the best @shawnmendes!”

She places her phone face down on the table and cups her tea in both hands. He watches the black sequins float, suspended in liquid on the back of her phone case. He looks back at her.

She looks tired even under all the make-up. Her fingers are twitchy against the cardboard cup. Is he making her nervous, he wonders? He slouches against his chair and sips his coffee.

“We’re going out tonight. Me and my band and a few others. Do you want to come?”

The words shock her as much as they shock him when they leave his mouth. They both stare at each other for too long a moment, amazed at what they heard. She sips her tea for something to occupy her mouth.

“Yeah, cool.”

That was not the answer she expected to give. She exhales slowly and stands. “See you later.”

She’s gone in several long strides and he’s alone in the café wondering what the fuck he just did.

The plan for the evening was communicated to her through Margaret, who heard it from Andrew, who got it from Geoff, who was told by Shawn. After the show at Manchester Arena, they’re taking cars first to Gorilla, then to Sound Control, then the Mint Lounge if they’re up for it.

Emma hopes they’re up for it. She hasn’t had a proper night out since before tour, since Ashley gave her her first E and held her hair when she threw it up in the back of an Uber on the 405.

She’s dressed not to kill, but to fucking assassinate. Mabel lets her get a little buckwild on club nights in exchange for not bitching too much when she has to wear designers she doesn’t like for Instagram ads. Tonight, the choice is very Manchester: a sort of shredded black sleeveless tank dress with dark stockings (with more tears) and thigh high black patent leather military boots. It’s so grunge, she thinks to herself, turning to admire her perky ass in the mirror, Courtney Love is shaking in her boots.

With the addition of round black 90s shades and a swipe of gloss, she steps off the bus.

Shawn’s used to conversation stopping whenever Emma walks into a space. She’s an unignorable presence. He wonders if it hurts her feelings most of the time but, on nights like this, when she’s making an entrance, he can see a flush creep up her chest and knows she likes it.

She looks… outrageous. He has to focus on clenching his jaw to keep it from dropping. Fuck.

But her face is cold under layers of highlighter and contour and he can see she’s not all in there, like usual. He’s becoming familiar with the ache in his chest that he gets when he tries to find her in her eyes and comes up empty and confused.

She produces a game-for-it smile and nods at the fleet of vehicles waiting to take them out as if giving them permission to escort her. Shawn slides into the car behind hers and watches as she sits next to Brian. He wonders if Brian can smell her perfume or the shampoo she uses. He blinks hard and stares out the window, grinning at the city as they infiltrate it.

Emma isn’t intimately familiar with the Manchester club scene the way she is with, say, Los Angeles or Ibiza, but one of Shawn’s guitar techs and one of her dancers grew up here so they know where to find what they’re looking for. She decides to trust them when they pull up outside a building that does not resemble any club she’s ever been in but it is called Gorilla and she’s trying to be cool so she says nothing, determined to remain open-minded.

Shawn never feels more like a celebrity when he’s storming a club with a team of his friends and tour mates and they’re getting let through the velvet ropes ahead of everyone in line with nods and handshakes. He doesn’t embrace this privilege that often because it still feels a little weird but on tour, he likes getting to treat his friends. Everyone works so hard; doing the rockstar thing boosts morale.

As he’s looking around at the crowd gathered at the bar, morale is clearly boosted. Everyone’s got a drink in their hand, everyone’s laughing and screaming and dancing and it’s actually a little early, he thinks, for things to have gotten so wild but it’s their first night out of the tour and Jess and Lexi are both in their hometown and invited some friends. He’s scanning everyone’s faces and planning out how he can manage to fit them all in one Insta story when he finds one missing.

Through the slight fog of several beers and post-show exhaustion, he glances around searching for Emma’s signature butter-blonde waves. He feels a hint of panic rise in his chest when it takes him longer than he wants it to. He does finally spot her, though, leaning against a wall with one leg bent under her and her head tilted as she listens to some short red-headed guy chatting her up. Her lips are curled like she’s flirting which he hasn’t seen her do with anyone yet, including the few brave souls from the crew who have tried and failed to crack through her walls. Suddenly, she erupts with laughter and he flinches, shocked at the sight. She actually looks really interested and engaged. Shawn tries not to visibly seethe. He waves down another beer from the bartender to help with that.

Shawn actively tries not to look for her again for the next half hour but it’s hard because something in the back of his head wants to protect her in case the guy’s a creep but he’s distracted enough by the company and the booze. It’s as they’re gathering up to hit the next club that he looks for her to make sure she’s included. She’s wrapped under that guy’s arm now and apparently he’s coming with them and Shawn feels his jaw tense up a little but he knows he can’t let anyone see it especially since it doesn’t make any fucking sense for him to be feeling this way.

Once again, the caravan of cars takes them to Sound Control – a gargantuan three-floor venue with a club in the basement. But this time, Shawn’s in the very back of the Escalade with Emma and her arm candy and he’s never felt so uncomfortable in his life. The redheaded Weasley-looking bloke is nice enough, honestly, introducing himself to everyone and trading quips in thick Mancunian accents with Jess and Lexi. But he’s squashed in between Emma and Shawn in a seat not designed for Shawn’s 6’2” frame and despite the fact that Shawn is definitely drunk, he’s still not drunk enough for this.

Emma’s choice of entertainment for the evening does not resemble Shawn in the slightest – it’s almost a wonder that they could be considered the same species. This isn’t entirely an accident, Emma admits to herself through a hazy brain fog of gin and the joint she and Roger (that’s the redhead’s name, of course it is) shared in the bathroom after a snog.

She has to remind herself somehow that Shawn Mendes isn’t the only good-looking guy on this god-forsaken island. If she can do that while listening to a cute, if rough and tumble, English accent, she’ll jump at the chance. The look on Shawn’s face when Roger teases the hem of her skirt as they’re walking through the doors to the second stop of the night is a delicious bonus.

Shawn loses Emma and Roger almost the second they get inside. The cocktail of emotions (way less fun than the cocktail he wants right now) he’s experiencing is dampening his party-ready exterior and becoming noticeable. Geoff smacks at his arm as Shawn nurses his… eighth beer? He really can’t be sure now.

“You good, man?” Geoff yells over the din. Shawn just nods and looks away. Geoff decides not to push it. Not the environment for a heart-to-heart, anyway.

Shawn doesn’t dance much sober but drunk Shawn? He gets down. He’s jumping around, crashing into people who don’t seem to mind, giddy from hops and thumping house music. He feels a little invincible. Something triggers the memory of the crowd tonight, his crowd. They were spectacular – the U.K. gigs always are. He thinks about the way they screamed on command for him, how they sang his songs louder than he could’ve ever dreamed they would.

He thinks about the opener, too, though. He doesn’t let her see him watch her set because his pride is still smarting from when she skipped his opening night. He doesn’t think she’s deigned to stay for any show since either. But he can’t help it. He’s got it clocked now so he can miss the first few songs and sneak up behind a rafter somewhere to watch her belt “How I’ve Been” barefoot and beautiful. He’s fucking mesmerized and he hates himself a little for it.

He finds himself looking for her again now in the low-ceilinged smoky club. The only lights in the space are an eerie red, mixing with fog and weed and cigs and hot, sticky breath. He swallows, feeling his head spin as he turns too fast. He grabs a support pillar nearby and clings to it as he continues his search.

He wishes he didn’t when he finds her, though. Every inch of the back of her body is pressed against the front of… well, not Roger’s. This new guy is taller. He’s a lot taller. He’s more built in the upper body from what Shawn can see. He’s got dark curly hair and wandering hands. If Shawn were just a little drunker, he’d wonder if somehow it’s him, if he’s having an out of body experience.

They’re grinding hard, bodies pounding rhythmically against each other, against their tightly-enclosed neighbors. This guy’s hands are everywhere – her hips, her thighs, reaching up her skirt a little, grabbing at her breasts through her thin dress. Shawn’s stomach roils. He’s sure he’s gonna throw up. He grabs the column a little harder.

Somehow, impossibly, through the throngs of people, their eyes lock. Her cloud-like lips are parted with the effort of her panting breaths. Her hands are both tangled in this bastard’s hair while he works on a mark on her neck.

Emma’s staring at Shawn and Shawn’s staring at Emma, both waiting for each other to crack and react. He’s impressively stoic, given his state of intoxication. He only flinches when the Shawn look-a-like’s hand is edging up the hem of her dress again.

She smiles like she’s won, which she kind of has. Her grin is nothing like he’s seen on her before, nor on any woman. It’s almost inhuman somehow. Shawn whimpers, watching her turn her head to coax the lips off her neck and back to hers. The second he sees her tongue peek out to explore his mouth, Shawn shuts down.

He turns away and walks (stumble-runs) to the bar, leaning against it and almost begging the bartender for water. He leans against a wall in silence until his friends notice his rather conspicuous absence and dig him out of his hole.

They round up again – no Ruby Lounge tonight. They’re spent. It’s past 3am, anyway. Shawn instinctively starts counting heads again.

“Where’s Emma?” he chokes. He knows the answer. He has to hear it out loud anyway.

Lexi simpers almost proudly. “Not coming. Left with some French guy half an hour ago. Took him back to the hotel.”

Shawn blinks the green haze in his eyes before he can nod. “Cool. Let’s hit the road.”

She was a woman possessed, Emma decides when she wakes up the next morning with a warm body next to her. He doesn’t look nearly as much like Shawn in the cold light of dawn. She pokes him in the back and nods when he rolls over and grimaces at her.

He’s gone in five minutes. She’s good at that, getting rid of guys in the morning. If nothing else, her cold stare helps her achieve that. But it scares away everyone else by design, too. You can’t be two people, she reminds herself over a mug of hotel room green tea. She doesn’t have the energy to brave the lobby for Caffe Nero. Anyone could be down there. Plus, the longer she can convince her team she’s asleep, the longer she can stay here in this place between sleep and Emma Kingston, a place without Pilaticardio or “Fireheart” or an Anastasia brow palette.

Emma’s tired. Physically, bone tired, sure, but that’s not new. She’s tired of walking up with someone and still feeling alone. She’s tired of walking past a room of people with inside jokes knowing she hasn’t made herself welcome. She’s so fucking tired.

She’s been thinking lately about implementing a new… strategy. Maybe she doesn’t have to be cold and detached all the time. Maybe she can be cold, detached and funny. Like, she can jump into conversations with a sharp quip and make everyone laugh in surprise. Then at least they’d like her enough to nod at her and say hi sometimes when she walks past the door. She doesn’t need an invite inside. She doesn’t want one. She just needs… something.

Emma stands. Her joints creak louder than usual. She wonders why for a moment then remembers the dancing, and the shoes. She shoots a harsh glance at her discarded boots. The dancing makes her think of the touching and the touching makes her think of Shawn.

She wasn’t just drunk on Gordon’s, she was drunk on power, too. When Shawn looks at her the way he does when he either thinks she doesn’t see him (like when he’d hiding and watching the end of her set) or when he’s drunk and can’t help it, it’s the closest feeling she gets to independence. Pilaticardio doesn’t come close.

Now, this morning, the thrill is gone. Sobriety has set in and has brought with it the consequences of her rather ridiculous decisions. She remembers the way she smiled at him. She remembers the look of horror on his face. She already felt sick. Now she feels sicker.

On her way to the shower, she catches a glimpse of Emma Kingston looking like she got hit by a truck. The reality, of course, is not as exciting – too much gin, weed and bad sex.

Must be Wednesday.

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orbemnews · 3 years

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In Quest for Herd Immunity, Giant Vaccination Sites Proliferate EAST HARTFORD, Conn. — With the nation’s coronavirus vaccine supply expected to swell over the next few months, states and cities are rushing to open mass vaccination sites capable of injecting thousands of shots a day into the arms of Americans, an approach the Biden administration has seized on as crucial for reaching herd immunity in a nation of 330 million. The Federal Emergency Management Agency has joined in too: It recently helped open seven mega-sites in California, New York and Texas, relying on active-duty troops to staff them and planning many more. Some mass sites, including at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles and State Farm Stadium in suburban Phoenix, aim to inject at least 12,000 people a day once supply ramps up; the one in Phoenix already operates around the clock. The sites are one sign of growing momentum toward vaccinating every willing American adult. Johnson & Johnson’s single-dose vaccine won emergency authorization from the Food and Drug Administration on Saturday, and both Moderna and Pfizer have promised much larger weekly shipments of vaccines by early spring. In addition to using mass sites, President Biden wants pharmacies, community clinics that serve the poor and mobile vaccination units to play major roles in increasing the vaccination rate. With only about 9 percent of adults fully vaccinated to date, the kind of scale mass sites provide may be essential as more and more people become eligible for the vaccines and as more infectious variants of the virus proliferate in the United States. But while the sites are accelerating vaccination to help meet the current overwhelming demand, there are clear signs they won’t be able to address a different challenge lying ahead: the many Americans who are more difficult to reach and who may be reluctant to get the shots. The drive-through mass vaccination site on a defunct airstrip here in East Hartford, outside Connecticut’s capital, shows the promise and the drawbacks of the approach. Run by a nonprofit health clinic, the site has become one of the state’s largest distributors of shots since it opened six weeks ago, and its efficiency has helped Connecticut become a success story. Only Alaska, New Mexico, West Virginia and the Dakotas have administered more doses per 100,000 residents. Most of the people running mass sites are learning on the fly. Finding enough vaccinators, already challenging for some sites, could become a broader problem as they multiply. Local health care providers or faith-based groups rooted in communities will likely be far more effective at reaching people who are wary of the shots. And many of the huge sites don’t work for people who lack cars or easy access to public transportation. “Highly motivated people that have a vehicle — it works great for them,” said Dr. Rodney Hornbake, who serves as both a vaccinator and the East Hartford site’s medic, on call for adverse reactions. “You can’t get here on a city bus.” Before dawn on a recent raw morning, Susan Bissonnette, the nurse in charge, prepared enough vials of the Pfizer vaccine and diluent for the first few hundred shots of the day. At 7:45 a.m., her team surrounded her in a semicircle, stamping the snow off their boots and warming their fingers for the hours of injections that lay ahead. “We’re going to start with 40 vials, eight per trailer,” Ms. Bissonnette shouted to the group of 19 nurses, a doctor and an underemployed dentist who had volunteered to help. “OK, so remember it’s Pfizer, right? Point three milliliters, right?” The site vaccinates about 1,700 people on a good day, partly because Connecticut is small and gets fewer doses than many other states. It is a well-oiled machine, with a few dozen National Guard troops directing cars into 10 lanes, checking in people, who have to make appointments in advance, and making sure they have filled out a medical questionnaire before moving down the runway to their shots. Troops also supervise the area at the end of the runway where people wait after their shots for 15 minutes — or 30, if they have a history of allergies — in case of serious reactions. In between are the vaccinators, two per car lane, trading on and off between jabbing arms. When they need to warm up, they retreat inside heated trailers to draw up doses and fill out vaccination cards. “If you simply open up with 10 lanes, it will be chaos unless you have teams all along the way at checkpoints, executing on the plan you’ve laid out,” said Mark Masselli, the president and chief executive of Community Health Center, which opened the East Hartford site on Jan. 18 and has since opened two smaller versions, in Stamford and Middletown. “You’ve got to marry some groups together — folks with health care delivery sense and folks with logistics sense.” The site came together in six days, as Mr. Masselli’s staff worked frenetically with the state to install trailers, generators, lights, a wireless network, portable bathrooms, traffic signs and thousands of orange cones to mark the lanes. Every worker has two all-important pieces of equipment: a walkie-talkie to communicate with all the stations and supervisors, and an iPad to verify appointments or enter information about each patient into a database. Updated Feb. 28, 2021, 12:03 a.m. ET The vaccine they use is Pfizer’s, which adds complexity because it has to be stored at minus 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The supply is kept in an ultracold freezer that Community Health Center installed at the adjacent University of Connecticut football stadium. Ms. Bissonnette and other supervisors speed there in bumpy golf carts several times a day to grab more vials, which last for only two hours at room temperature. The first cars roll in at 8:30, often driven by the adult children or grandchildren of those getting shots. Drive-through clinics can be better for infection control, some experts say — people roll down their car windows only for the injection — and more comfortable than standing in line. But a month into the Connecticut site’s existence, its weaknesses are also clear. Traffic can get snarled on the busy road leading to the site, and bad weather can shut it down, requiring hundreds of appointments to be rescheduled on short notice. Spotty vaccine supply, which forced sites in California to close for a few days recently, can also wreak havoc. More significantly, you need a car, gas money and, for some elderly people, a driver to get to and from the site. At this point, white people comprise 82 percent of those seeking shots at the East Hartford site, down from 90 percent in early February; their overrepresentation is partly because the older population now eligible is less diverse than the state overall. To address problems of access and equity, FEMA is opening many of its new mass sites in low-income, heavily Black and Latino neighborhoods where fear of the vaccine is higher, vaccination rates have been lower and many people lack cars. In addition to its mass sites, Community Health Center, which serves large numbers of poor and uninsured people in clinics around the state, is also planning to send small mobile teams into neighborhoods to extend its vaccination reach. The East Hartford site has hired several dozen temporary nurses and trained its dentists and dental hygienists to help with the shots. Still, staffing the site with 22 vaccinators daily remains a challenge, one that will grow nationally as more people become eligible for the shots. Dr. Marcus Plescia, the chief medical officer for the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials, said the need for mass vaccination sites might wane as more and more of the low-hanging fruit — Americans who are highly motivated to get vaccinated as soon as possible — is picked. “I think they have worked well in the current setting of demand substantially exceeding supply, drawing on many people who are eager to be vaccinated,” Dr. Plescia said. “As supply increases, and we have vaccinated the eager, we may find that lower-volume settings are preferable.” Mobile vaccination clinics will reach some of the vaccine hesitant. But Dr. Plescia said people who are uncertain and fearful would be best served by doctors’ offices or community health centers where they can talk it through with health care providers they know. “They’re not there to counsel you,” he said of mass sites. “You go to get the shot, end of story.” Dr. Nicole Lurie, who was the assistant health secretary for preparedness and response under President Barack Obama, said that instead of just asking FEMA for help, state and local governments should seek input from private companies used to keeping large crowds moving — while keeping them safe and happy. In one such example, the company running Boston’s mass vaccination sites contracted with the event management firm that runs the Boston Marathon to handle day-to-day logistics. Several companies that ran large coronavirus testing operations are also involved in mass vaccination. “These sites need to be motivated to make this a good experience for the customer, especially since they’re working with a two-dose vaccine,” Dr. Lurie said. “If it’s really a pain in the neck, why would you go wait in line again a few weeks later?” Most sites say their main challenge is not having enough supply to meet demand. But with 315 million more Pfizer and Moderna doses promised by the end of May, and Johnson & Johnson pledging to provide the United States with 100 million doses of its newly authorized vaccine by the end of June, that complaint may fade before long. The biggest headache for the East Hartford site has been the system for booking appointments, a clunky online registry known as VAMS that is being used in about 10 states. Many people 65 and older have had such a hard time navigating it that most end up calling 211, the phone number for health and social services assistance, to make appointments instead. As the hours pass, the eternally smiling vaccinators in East Hartford get tired — and sometimes bone cold. But sometimes there are unexpected boosts, such as when John Rudy, 65, pulled up with his mother, Antoinette, in the back seat. “We’ve got a 100-year-old!” Jean Palin, a nurse practitioner, announced as she prepared Ms. Rudy’s shot. The site usually closes at 4 p.m., but there was a problem: There were more no-shows than usual that day, in the middle of a snowy week, and there were 30 unused doses. Word went out from nurses at the site, including to people working at a nearby big-box store, who were not all eligible but could qualify for a vaccine if the alternative was throwing it away. “It’s just a precision game toward the end of the day,” Ms. Bissonnette said. At 5:15, Greg Gaudet, 63, drove up, teary with excitement. He had learned from one of the nurses, a former high school classmate, that a shot was available. “I have a luckily dormant cancer, but my immunity is low,” said Mr. Gaudet, an architect whose form of leukemia was diagnosed six years ago. “I’m so grateful.” How much the site will cost over time remains “a question that we are eager to work through,” Mr. Masselli said. Community Health Center spent about $500,000 to set it up and is spending roughly $50,000 a week on labor and other costs. It receives a fee for each shot it can bill insurance for — the Medicare rate is $16.94 for the first dose and $28.39 for the second — but is also counting on reimbursement from the state and FEMA for start-up and other costs. Still, the expense has not stopped Mr. Masselli from imagining an expansion. “There’s another runway over there,” he said, gesturing behind him. “Between the two, with two shifts, we could do 10,000 a day. March 14 is Daylight Saving Time; we’re going to pick up warmer weather, more light. The timing is right.” Source link Orbem News #giant #herd #immunity #Proliferate #Quest #sites #Vaccination

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junker-town · 5 years

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The fires that forged Dawn Staley

South Carolina coach Dawn Staley has survived, and thrived, through fires. Now, she’s lighting a spark under the women’s basketball establishment.

Under the glare of the Carolina Coliseum’s floodlights, the rapturous harmony of basketball echoed off the golden hardwood. There stood Dawn Staley, beaming. She motioned to her salt-and-pepper Havanese puppy, Champ, and launched a plastic bone across the facility for him to fetch. It was the day before Halloween. Eighteen months after capturing a national championship for the South Carolina Gamecocks, she laughed with her team following a three-hour practice. Diamond hoops swung from her ears while she paraded the sidelines of her queendom.

She walked Champ through the basement of the old Coliseum. Toughness, Discipline, Family, Passion, and Sacrifice were inscribed in bold over top the training rooms. Through the double doors Carolina’s volleyball team was in practice, until they saw Champ tugging at a neon toy. The women swarmed the pup while staffers chased him, and he was eventually scooped up while Staley smiled and waved at her pet.

This is the lifestyle that Staley, the head coach of South Carolina’s women’s basketball, came to adopt in the recesses of the national championship and a subsequent Elite Eight finish. Forty-eight years old, a dog momma, a less gruff demeanor to her players — things she never expected for herself. “I got soft. Ahhhhhhh,” she says. “All of my former players who work with me now said I’m like Charmin.”

The lively manner belies Staley’s strenuous last year. Publicly, there’s never been this much fire surrounding her. A self-proclaimed “master compartmentalizer” found herself in a challenging position. Like many black athletes, she had a publicized scuffle with the presidency. She took on the new challenge of being the first black woman to lead Team USA. Disastrously, she was accused of athletic malpractice. A rival SEC athletic director said Staley promoted a hostile, racist atmosphere during an in-conference clash with Missouri in January, where he alleged his players were spit on and called n——rs.

“Behind closed doors, it pissed me off,” she says of the accusations. Her identity was under attack. “You usually handle truth in two different manners to me, OK: fightin’ mad or happy, glad. OK? I was really upset. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know anything about me.”

But Staley has always soared when challenged, rumbled when provoked. From scraping with ballers in Philly, to adjusting to life outside of the city. From building programs while simultaneously playing for others, to lawsuits and squaring up with the president of the United States. These moments catapulted her legend and modeled her into an indefatigable worker.

Staley thrives when ablaze; less a casualty of poisonous circumstance than a phoenix rising from the ashes.

In January 2018, Mizzou won the first of two rivalry games against South Carolina, beating the Gamecocks by nine in a temperamental contest.

During that meeting on Jan. 7, Mizzou players were filmed going after Carolina players repeatedly. Yet, Staley was ejected for arguing calls and failing to substitute a player quickly enough. A’Ja Wilson, the 2018 national player of the year in college basketball and the WNBA’s 2018 No. 1-overall pick, fouled out after playing only 19 minutes. Staley was furious by game’s end.

“I can’t remember a year when we played Missouri at Missouri and it was actually a clean, cool game,” says Wilson.

As Staley left the court, South Carolina players were heckled by opposing fans. “You’re thugs like your coach,” fans reportedly said.

“It’s a team full of black girls, a black coach, a lot of people just don’t wanna see black women in charge and actually doing well,” says Tiffany Mitchell, a two-time SEC player of the year for the Gamecocks. “That’s with anything, not just coaching. A black person in power, with any type of authority, the world is taken back by it.”

The tension continued for weeks, and people who knew Staley at every level of the game fumed. Two days before their second scrape, Staley suggested Mizzou’s on-court actions crossed a line. The rematch elevated in aggression, with an on-court brawl during the Jan. 28 contest. Punches and elbows were thrown and two Mizzou players were ejected. Carolina won by 10 and the atmosphere turned nuclear.

Following the game, Mizzou’s athletic director Jim Sterk made an appearance on a local radio station. “I was really thankful you got out of Columbia, South Carolina, alive on Sunday night,” one host said.

“If you ever get in the way of her winning a game, then that’s between you and her.” — Doniyah Cliney, forward, South Carolina

“It wasn’t a great atmosphere. It was really kind of unhealthy, if you will,” Sterk said. “We had players spit on and called the N-word and things like that. It was not a good environment, and unfortunately I think Coach Staley promoted that kind of atmosphere, and it’s unfortunate she felt she had to do that. It wasn’t good.”

Internally, players, staffers, and Staley herself were enraged.

“That’s just not who she is,” says Doniyah Cliney, a forward on the team. “She doesn’t teach us to be thugs or [discriminatory] because we’re black and they’re white. She teaches us to win regardless of who comes in our gym or wherever we go. That’s her main goal. That’s her baby: winning. She loves to win. If you ever get in the way of her winning a game — then that’s between you and her.”

The incident also acted as a stark reminder of the ignorant racial divide that exists within the country.

“White people using the word ‘thug,’ on so many levels, it makes me embarrassed as a white person,” says Cheryl Reeve, the head coach of the Minnesota Lynx and assistant coach for Team USA. “When a white person is using the word directed at black people, there’s no other thing that can be assigned to it than racism.”

Days after Sterk’s comments, Staley was on the phone with Angela O’Neal, one of her closest confidants. O’Neal travels with Staley and the two boast a friendship spanning decades.

“How dare this man fix his mouth to say stuff like that?” O’Neal said. “Girl, you have to sue!”

On Feb. 22, Staley sued Sterk in Richmond County Court for making “tortious and defamatory statements,” for $75,000 — a suit more about reputation than money. The SEC fined Sterk an additional $25,000 for his comments, which violated the conference’s code of ethics. Sterk apologized in May for his accusations, and Missouri paid a settlement of $50,000 — half of which went to Staley’s foundation, InnerSole, while the other half went to her lawyers. But the damage had been done.

“Around that time you really did feel the gears kind of shift,” says Wilson, who noticed Staley being more reclusive. “She was like, ‘everything’s fine.’ But we were like, ‘No! No! We wanna know!’

“Coach Staley’s not always gonna have her best days. But she’s gonna put on her smile. Do a lil’ pimp walk. And keep on going. She does do a great job of hiding it. You have to dig down deep to find something wrong with Coach Staley. She’s never gonna let you see weakness.”

Photo courtesy of University of South Carolina Athletics | Photo Illustration by Tyson Whiting

Dawn Staley and her pup, Champ, pose for the camera.

Staley believes she had to sue to right her ship and confidently profess that no person could hold such a lie over her and her program. Even still, it cut her deeply. “To the heart,” she says. “I said out loud what I was going to do without processing it. That’s the one time I didn’t. I just followed my heart because I knew it was furthest from the truth.”

Everything she had built hung in the balance: her reputation, her family, her future. The attack on her legacy is the first thing that’s forced her hand in 30 years. Staley prides herself as willful and deliberate in all of her actions. Whatever is thrown her way, she believes she can take time to answer. But this sort of slander? That’ll make her rush.

“[Sterk] thought he could say that without any consequence,” O’Neal says. “He thought there would be no action. He’s not the only one in America who has those thoughts about Dawn. Dawn didn’t do this for money. She did this for her name. She’s worked her entire career to be scandal-free, to be respected, but in a few words she could’ve lost it all.

“She had to fight for her name. Her mother would’ve turned over in the crypt if she didn’t.”

Like many black families during the 20th Century, Clarence and Estelle Staley were looking for a new life. The Great Migration carried millions of black folks north in search of jobs and an escape from segregationist laws. Clarence, a carpenter, and Estelle, a caretaker, came to Philadelphia from Woodward, South Carolina, in the 1950s. They married soon thereafter. By 1967 they put together the funds for a three-bedroom, one-bath rowhome under the shadow of the Raymond Rosen projects.

The late writer Acel Moore once opined in the Philadelphia Inquirer that those blocks were “an island — a black township — where crime, violence, and drugs flourished.” They were “filled with trash, garbage, and dead rodents that rotted in hallways and stairways.”

Estelle did what she could, often keeping a manicured lawn and sterling home for her expanding family — daughters Dawn and Tracey and three sons Lawrence, Anthony, and Eric. As the youngest, Dawn followed her brothers everywhere, forcing them to respect her ambition for basketball. She’d often shoot until the streetlights blinked, her only meal a bodega special: chicken wings and cheese fries.

She graduated to afternoons at the Moylan Recreation Center, often bringing a basketball for the boys to use. When they’d approach, she’d refuse to give it to them unless she could play, too. Hank Gathers, a Philadelphia basketball hero who the basketball courts would later be named after, noticed and prodded the regulars to let little Dawn hoop with the boys.

This caught the interest of radio broadcaster Sonny Hill, who some Philadelphians refer to as the “Mayor of Basketball”. Hill was putting together a series of tournaments and wanted Dawn to play, and Staley’s legend began to blossom. Philly was renowned as a nexus of basketball prowess. Dawn dueled Yolanda Laney, a future All-American at Rutgers; the late Linda “Hawkeye” Paige, a future ACC champion with NC State; and Marilyn Stephens-Franklyn, Temple’s all-time leading women’s scorer, and got beat down daily under the hot sun of Hill’s tournaments. It was one of the only times in Staley’s life when she wasn’t be the best player on the court.

She became one of the best players in the country as a teenager at Dobbins High, scoring nearly 34 points per game, winning three Public League titles, and only losing one game in high school. People who flocked to games nearly fainted. The girls played in a separate gym with no court-side seating and a balcony offering the best view for a select 90 people. That was, if they could bear the 60-degree temperature jump due to poor heating systems at Dobbins. Dawn would make enemies sweat on the floor. Spectators would drip from the rafters.

Her North Philly upbringing was essential to how she would combat the difficulties of her adulthood. The winding corners around Ridge Avenue, the ostentatious blocks of Oxford and the daring days on Diamond Street created the bedrock of an immovable attitude. If Staley has built a perception of being impervious to on-court hate and can present a stone-cold attitude, it is because she was forged in an unimaginable fire, where steel begets steel.

“Dawn is special to the game. God decided to make only one of her,” Virginia coach Debbie Ryan said after Staley arrived in 1988.

The Virginian Grounds were monumentally different from North Philly. Staley came off as antisocial and arrogant. People spoke differently. They didn’t wear colored, khaki shorts on Diamond Street. She didn’t know what chinos were. Feeling lonely, she feigned shyness and didn’t look anyone in the eyes, spending many of her days watching Dirty Dancing on VCR. The future accessible socialite of South Carolina was an introverted homebody with an asymmetrical MC Lyte updo.

“There was a big switch. That’s why I had a hard time,” Staley says. Her first season she nearly failed out of school, and there came a time that year when the dean wanted Staley gone. One evening in her office, she gave Staley a blunt reality.

“You need to conform to the life, and UVA.”

“Whatever!” Staley would shout back. But in the back of her mind, she knew she was playing a losing hand.

“That’s when you gotta tone down the North Philly,” she says. “Ultimately I wanted to play basketball. I went to UVA to play basketball. Trust me on that one. I would not have picked UVA just to go to school. I don’t use that degree.”

Staley’s sophomore season brought further turmoil. Staley’s knees were ailing from injuries. Gathers, who had become a mentor, died. Her grandmother also passed away. After a first-round game in the ACC tournament, Ryan called Staley to her hotel room. The subsequent argument was explosive.

“They both needed to get things out,” says Tammi Reiss, another star for the Cavaliers’ backcourt. “Everybody was walking on eggshells when they weren’t getting along. That kind of turned the tide that year. Whatever was said, it worked. Good, bad, or indifferent, they both respected what was said in that room and we suddenly go to the Final Four that year.”

From there on, Staley’s time at Virginia was defined by achievements. She became a two-time national player of the year and attended three Final Fours, including one title game. But she never achieved her ultimate goal of a championship.

After one particular scuffle with Stanford in Los Angeles, Staley ran off the court chasing referees to add time on the clock for a final shot.

“It was like, how did she do that? I had no idea. But they put it back on the clock. We all knew the ball was going to Dawn,” says Tara VanderVeer, Stanford’s coach. She was in awe. She had sworn the game was over. “I was just so relieved that we won.”

Even in the waning moments of games she couldn’t have won, Staley altered deteriorating situations. She constantly held onto the moments outside of her control. Perhaps most indicative were the days after her crushing loss to Tennessee in 1991’s national title game.

“Look Tammi! Look!” she’d scream, after barricading herself in the room she shared with Reiss. Staley watched the tape every day for a month, often twice a day. “Dawn, stop,” Reiss would say, exasperated. “You’re gonna make me kill myself.”

Those years in Virginia changed her. Staley was no longer the cheese-fry-chewing child who carved up courts in Philadelphia. Her mind sharpened. Her game elevated. She refined the skills most black Americans need to weave through a white world.

“Every step of the way, every experience with coaches, people, turmoil, obstacles, I needed in my life,” Staley says. “For some reason I couldn’t see the big picture at the time. But I needed it.”

And, perhaps most importantly, her vision of the game ripened. Whether she agreed or not — and she didn’t, at the time — Staley was blossoming into a coach.

It was inevitable that Staley’s legend would be one of splendors. She had stints overseas, in France and elsewhere, dicing European defenders. She was drafted by the ABL’s Richmond Rage and played under her longtime friend Lisa Boyer. She became the ninth overall pick in the 1999 WNBA Draft and hooped with the Sting in Charlotte, ending her career years later with the Houston Comets. Along the way, she brought home three Olympic gold medals and was the flag bearer for the United States in the 2004 games.

Dawn Staley attempts a layup during her time overseas.

All the while she had several conversations with friends about coaching. She’d giggle on the phone year after year, firm in the idea she’d never get into the role. Dawn Staley doesn’t coach. Dawn Staley balls.

“Every time I talked to coaches the only thing they talked about was basketball and their teams,” she says, chuckling. “At that time I thought I was more than that. I don’t want to spend the rest of the time talking about basketball to 18 to 22 year olds. I used to tell them all the time, ‘Get a Life!’”

By 2000, the Final Four made its way to Philadelphia and Staley’s name was linked to the Temple Owls. The late Dave O’Brien, who was the athletic director at Temple at the time, asked Staley a friendly question.

“Can you just stop by?”

Staley wasn’t dressed for an interview; she only had sweats and a T-shirt. She didn’t want a job. Who coaches and plays at the same time? While she was flattered, she kept declining.

“Can you walk down the hall and meet a couple of people?” O’Brien asked.

“I’m thinking I’m gonna go through some cubicles. Say hello, hey-hey, hey! No. I walk into this conference room and they line around the table and sit me at the head of the table and they start firing all these questions at me,” Staley remembers.

They asked her if she admired coach John Chaney and if she would want to model her career after him. She, like many black Philadelphians at the time, had a deep affection for Chaney, the brash men’s basketball coach who famously told John Calipari he’d kill him and tried to fight Calipari in front of reporters. Wouldn’t she like to have a career like him?

“Naw,” she said.

They asked where she saw herself in five years.

“Playing in the WNBA,” she said.

“I was really open, honest, and frank with them. I don’t know how they walked away and thought I was the person for that job. I don’t know why. I just told it like it was. I didn’t hold back anything because I didn’t want the job. I never been on an interview before!”

Staley pauses. “Then two weeks later I took the job.”

In short time, Temple became a March fixture, but the team could never quite get over the hump. That frustrated Staley constantly. She was finally in coaching, as her friends always imagined, but the success she’d yearned for during her college career was eluding her once again.

Temple was an important stop in Staley’s career because it changed her outlook on life, it grew her national resume, and it readied her for a place like South Carolina. Because of Temple, Staley knew how to build a roster, how to inspire players to accept her version of the sport, how to woo parents and guardians to drop their kids off in a place with a possibly unwelcoming vibe to those not from North Philly. The impression she left there was indelible. The city is still painted in Staley murals and fixtures across rooftops along North Broad Street.

So after eight years she finally left North Philly for Carolina to challenge the SEC, relocate her ailing mother to the place she was born, and chase her destiny of winning the national championship she hadn’t brought home yet.

In South Carolina, Staley’s collection of winning material is nearly overwhelming. Banners and championships hang suspended from the lights. The prize jewel, of course, is the 2017 National Championship trophy, glistening in glass and blinged with pieces of nets from the dance. It stands next to a crystalline WBCA Coach of the Year honor. Staley has named the trophies “Brownie” and “à la mode”; the last treasures one sees before turning to Staley’s office.

Trophies are literally everywhere. How much could one person possibly win? SEC Coach of the Year awards, three gold medals from 1996-2004, her framed Olympic jerseys, a 1999 WNBA sportsmanship award, an encasing of her line of sneakers from Nike, Air Force Ones from the Beijing Olympics, all-white Forces to commemorate her induction to the Hall of Fame.

When Staley arrived in Columbia, she was given a financial package worth $650,000 annually. In 2017, after winning the national title, she received an eight-year deal worth more than $14 million, including $2.1 million in her final year — making her the highest-paid woman in the SEC. In 2018 she received even more incentive to stay in Gamecock Country in the form of retirement investments.

Knowing all this, it’s odd when Staley explains how almost none of it came to be. Unlike so many other times in her life, the spoils of success didn’t immediately follow her when she moved campuses. Carolina was a different world, and the SEC was the pinnacle of competition. There was both risk and reward, but upon entry to a club of elite coaches and talent, Staley didn’t believe the tools were available for her to flourish.

“It was professional suicide,” she says.

Staley truly believes basketball is her saving grace, the constant in the middle of every issue her life has faced. Basketball remained. Basketball is pure. Basketball will make a way. But transitioning 700 miles down I-95 showed basketball alone was insufficient. The Gamecocks were horrid. The same ideologies of an overachieving coach at a middling program couldn’t translate in the SEC. Did the players just not love basketball as much as her? What was she missing?

“It took me two years to really fall back … start listening,” Staley says. “I may not agree with them and do what they say. But if they feel like they are a part of it, they’re gonna feel vested in it. That’s what I did: How you wanna play this screen? What you think about this opponent?

“Things started to turn around when that happened,” she admits. “You can’t be afraid of what people might think, of starting over, you never know where that’ll end. We ended up going to the postseason every year after that.”

But there was still a missing dynamic on campus. The Staley of old remained quiet, pensive, introverted. If this formula was to work, there needed to be give and take. Ray Tanner, Carolina’s athletic director, told her explicitly, “We need you out front.”

So Staley began running with the undergrads during intramural hoop tournaments, bringing in former Olympians to embarrass the kids who’d fall for her floor product. Staley held fan forums with the Carolina faithful and quizzed them on what they needed from her. Assigned seats at Colonial Life Arena? Done. Pre-game access to players over meals? Easy. Some photos and T-shirts? Whatever works. The result was the largest attendance numbers in America.

“It’d be noon on Sunday and the place is packed,” Wilson says. “I was like, ‘Lord! No one’s in church?’”

Photo by G Fiume/Maryland Terrapins/Getty Images | Photo Illustration by Tyson Whiting

Dawn Staley surveys from the sidelines during a game.

Staley creates a harmony that nearly everyone in her orbit wants to tout. She is seen as a unifier; she created a fan experience in South Carolina that extends across economic, racial, and gender lines. Administration officials say there is nothing like it at any other Gamecocks sporting event, and what Staley created is unique to Gamecock Country.

“This state has been a state that’s full of history for a lot of people. It’s not kind history. It’s a history that’s filled with racism,” Staley says.

To see that a black woman could exist at a cultural crossroads where white people exalt her name from the crowd but housing on campus still resembles Antebellum relics is an odd juxtaposition.

“I’m happy to be a part of this movement. I do think it’s a movement and a lifestyle of people who are here. I’ve spoken to a lot of people who’ve said it’s the first time they’ve stepped on the campus at the University of South Carolina. A lot of black people. Because they weren’t welcomed. It was segregated. It helps mend some of the grudges people have held. They see me, they see the color of my skin. And they see something they want to be a part of.”

The reality that denizens of Carolina slide to Columbia and cheer for a group of black women, led by this black woman, is revolutionary. Staley’s presence on court, perched in Louboutin stilettos, sung in a Philly slang, revered without adaptation, makes her very essence a protest — a disruption under the lights every week in downtown Columbia.

It takes a combination of variables to win a national championship. Staley always thought she would, but never knew when — especially not after star senior Alaina Coates went down with a nightmare injury as March 2017 began. Staley’s offense revolved around post dominance, a high-low formula in which Wilson and Coates crumbled defenders. She transitioned to a four-out, one-in, spreading the lanes, praying something would work.

When the confetti finally fell in Dallas, she couldn’t escape her daze. Staley receded to her hotel suite with Lisa Boyer, her closest friend on staff who she’s known for decades. Four hours later, it still felt surreal to the two women.

“What do we do now?” Boyer said.

“I don’t know, Boyer,” Staley shrugged. “I guess we gotta win another one.”

When Boyer finally left the room around 3 a.m. the next morning, Staley reflected. Her father, Clarence, died from an illness in 2006. Relocating her mother closer to family after Staley’s father passed was one of the main reasons she made the move to South Carolina. Estelle was suffering from Alzheimer’s. When Staley was away in Dallas, she told Estelle’s caregiver, Rosemary, to make sure the game was on. After the championship, she would go back to Carolina and put the net around Estelle’s neck, and Estelle would smile. But at that moment in the suite, it was just her, in silence with her thoughts.

“That was when it finally hit her,” Boyer says. “She went to three Final Fours as a player and it continued to elude her … When you’re in it, you just don’t know if you’re ever gonna get there. And Dawn, she never thought that that team, that’s how it would look for a national championship team,” she continues. “But it was our time. We were blessed.”

“Nobody thought we could win. Nobody. But us.” Staley says. “And, no, I didn’t cry. Three or four of the other coaches cried. But I had to hold myself together. Because they cried, they scared my tears away.”

Staley may have kept it together on the court, but in the shadows, she suffered. Over the course of their glorious season, and while she cared for her ailing mother, Staley had fallen cripplingly ill herself. She’d be seen bending over, unable to speak. Players noticed her coughing more at practice. Staley would hide with her hat down over her face, restricted only to a few sideline chairs and less animated on the floor. No one knew what was wrong, and Staley was equally baffled. She tried everything, even getting an endoscopy.

O’Neal was with her every step of the way, nervous as any friend would be. She flew with Staley to see a specialist in Cleveland, where Staley was ultimately diagnosed in November 2016 — just four months before the championship game — with pericarditis, an inflammation of the lining around the heart, which can make breathing difficult and sleep impossible. Staley’s doctors wanted her hospitalized, and were irate when she did television interviews.

It was more than just the pain. If she collapsed from the spasms — the sharp ripping, stabbing feeling in her chest — she saw not being able to continue with the team as a more dire consequence. Even as a person who “thrives on challenges,” those nine months were overwhelming. Staley experienced immense pain from the Rio Olympics to her November diagnosis onward. She cared for her ailing mother. She won a championship in March 2017, and just five months later in August, she buried Estelle. Staley still keeps vases in her office that she buys monthly in remembrance. Yet, she continued to push herself to every limit.

“If I listened to my Cleveland doctor, we wouldn’t’ve won a national championship,” she says. “It would’ve been one more adverse moment to overcome. And I didn’t want to be a part of that. We forged ahead. We figured out what medicines could get me through, and we got through.”

In Staley’s mind, missing out on the chance to take her place among the basketball immortals was worse than dying.

When told this sounds dramatic, Staley politely says she doesn’t care.

Staley wanted to go to the White House, to reap the rewards of champions. It is what champions do, right? Staley waited her entire life to be a champion and believed nothing would stop her from relishing in the expected spoils.

Yet, President Donald Trump didn’t individually invite the Gamecocks to Washington. They were lumped together with champions from non-revenue sports; essentially a plus-one to tradition. Additionally, the invitation came late, which Staley addressed in November 2017 when she stated she wouldn’t go to the White House.

“People can think what they want to think,” she told reporters.

Until that moment, every women’s hoops champion since 1983 had visited 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And South Carolina was one of the first winners of the calendar year. It felt like an insult, but Staley internalized her emotions and moved on. She wanted to chase rings.

“We shouldn’t have been treated any differently,” she says. “If you gonna invite a men’s program in that manner, we did the same thing. I don’t feel like we should be treated any less than our male counterpart.”

After the decision was made, preparations began for the new season. They weren’t sitting on their hands awaiting a Trumpian missive.

“It was to a point where it was like whatever. We not even gonna try it. It’s pointless,” Wilson says. That doesn’t mean it didn’t sting. “It was kind of hurtful because that was what teams used to seal their season. Going to the Oval Office, taking a picture, knowing you finally made it.

“It just wasn’t right. But at the same time, you can’t take our rings and our banners away.”

Regardless of the reasoning, Staley isn’t seen as faultless for her actions in the state of South Carolina. Harris Pastides, the university president, says at home Staley was derided for not making the visit.

“The timing was bad. I do believe she was prepared to go,” Pastides says. “As you know, the UNC men’s team got an invite back in April or May. That would’ve been an easier time to go. That’s how it played out. She was criticized by some. I was criticized by some even though it wasn’t my decision. That’s the world.”

Having a figure like Staley on campus yields a number of different reactions to her decisions. Being overlooked by the president and ultimately turning away an invitation, like the professional women who play basketball for the Lynx, can be met with scorn from once-adoring fans. There is a duality present, a double-consciousness that must be accounted for with each black coach and athlete preparing a product or playing in front of white fans.

“Part of it is based on race. But part of it is based on gender as well,” says Valinda Littlefield, South Carolina’s faculty athletic representative, and the director of African-American studies, who has been on campus for 20 years. “Look at her team: her team at the time is all black women. She handled it as well as it could’ve been considering the circumstances of where we are. Either you get invited, or you don’t get invited and you have to handle it well. We are such a forgiving race, sometimes, what can I say?”

“I don’t think Dawn cares much about popularity,” adds Pastides. “Not when it comes at the expense of doing right or wrong.”

On a humid Thursday in November, Staley is engaged in more hands-on coaching than usual during practice.

A group of players were tasked with making 50 jump shots before the set time expired. “Imagine if you did that 20 minutes a day a few times a week.” She flicked her wrist. “Imagine.” Then tilted her head back in age-old wisdom.

There is a search for perfection in Columbia — something she achieved once, but is always striving for again. Such blunt behavior is necessary for Staley’s current squad. She must call out the small things, because many don’t consider this team as outright talented as her previous squads.

“She is America’s Point Guard” — Carolyn Peck, Vanderbilt assistant coach

Seeing a bad pass, she craned her head back in disgust. After a missed jumper, she shook her head and jawed to herself. A bad possession in the middle of the drill and now she’s cussing.

“External noise! It’s gonna mess you up, guys. It’s gonna mess you up. You can’t hear the right shit if you hear the noise! The right shit won’t get through.”

For a moment, one could see a clear picture of the modern Staley. The sizzling summers in Philly hardened a woman who is unwilling to accept a droplet of failure, an ounce of idleness. It would be poisonous to what she has created over the span of decades. The lonely strolls at Virginia made her willful in her delivery and uncaring of how she comes off to players, coaches, the media, and the opposition. She is focused instead on a singular goal of remaining a champion.

But what has she learned from her year in the sun? Before, Staley was arguably the most recognizable woman in South Carolina. Now? She’s one of the faces of the entire game, and one of the most successful black women coaching at the highest level, with a matching record and honors to parallel her plaudits. Her famous confidence isn’t only left to the hardwoods. She’s publicly using her platform to be more vocal about racial identity in the sport, the challenges for the black women in it, and the systemic problems pushing them out of the game or keeping them from obtaining head coaching positions.

She’s no longer solely a coach. She’s a progressive voice, a brand, unwilling to bend to the demands of white detractors for any means. She knows she can climb the ranks in exactly her own way, untouchable and without compromise.

“She is America’s point guard,” says Carolyn Peck, assistant coach at Vanderbilt, and it could never be more true. Staley’s dominance is only beginning. She promised Ray Tanner she’d catch up to him and win more national championships. Has anyone ever known her to deceive?

Back at practice, Staley’s crew ran up the floor. A forward splashed a jumper and Staley clapped her hands together. The sermon is heard by the congregation. She cast a wry smile and pumped a fist while nibbling a Lifesavers candy. Silent, she leaned back on a black stanchion on the baseline, the brim of her black cap tilted down on her forehead, those diamond hoops glistening from her ears.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

“Now, do it again!”

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nikolai-trueheart · 7 years

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Litha is coming!

This post is for @thedreamcatcherspirit. Here’s some ways to celebrate Litha, the summer solstice!

1. Go hunting for wildflowers! You can use them in future spells, or press them in your Book of Shadows (if you have one. Mine is online 😅)

2. Try cloud scrying! Choose a grassy, sunny place and search the clouds for messages

3. If you have an herb garden, make herbal candle rings to dress your candles with! It’s a great way to incorporate your herbs in whatever spell you’re performing. The featured herbs of Litha are mugwort, lavender, rosemary, wisteria, verbena, wild thyme, lemon, hemp, and chamomile

4. Go on a nature walk. It’s been really rainy where I am lately, so hopefully it dries up in the next two weeks. Pack a lunch, and just lose yourself in your local woods or nature preserve

5. Leave offerings outside. Litha is one of the two times a year the veil is thinnest between the two worlds (the other being Samhain) and according to legend, the fairies and forest spirits are especially active on the night of the summer solstice. Honey is a favorite treat, so try making some honey cakes, or just leaving raw honey. This is known to attract wild animals and insects, so make sure it’s away from your home. We don’t need any accidents this Litha!

6. Decorate! You can use fruit, sunflowers, wildflowers, suns, and sea shells, fairies, dragons, and phoenixes. All are symbols of Litha

7. Eat some inspired food! I found this awesome recipe for honey lavender lemonade that I really want to try! I also found some other recipes. Links will be at the end of the post *some of the drinks are alcoholic. Please, if you’re underage, don’t consume those. There’s plenty of other ways to celebrate Litha*

8. Greet the sun at dawn. I want to find or write a chant to greet it with. Litha is the day of the sun. Honor it and greet its light when it awakens

9. Honor the storms. If this weather keeps up, I’ll have a storm to honor. Which might be fun, to dance in the rain

10. Make garlands! I’ll also put a link to a pin I found telling how to make a dandelion garland, but you can use any wildflower, really. I think it’d be really pretty to use a combination of the different flowers you can find!

11. Bake! As I said earlier, you can make honey cakes as an offering. But you can make many other things, like cookies and bread. Recipes for lavender lemon loaf cake and dandelion bread can be found below

12. Make sun tea! Throw a few bags of your favorite tea and a few cups of water into a jar, and place it into the sun for several hours. When you return, you’ll have delicious tea!

13. Make floral ice cubes! Just take some edible flowers (always make sure you know what flower it is, and that it’s 100% edible) or herbs, and pop them in the freezer with some water in ice cube trays. They’re so pretty!

14. Just spend some time in the sun. Soak up the pleasant rays. Sip some of that lemonade I mentioned earlier. Read a book. Enjoy this wonderful holiday!

Ok, this post has gone on for a while. I hope this has inspired you all to celebrate! Happy Litha!

*reminder: only harvest dandelions, wildflowers, herbs, etc from places you know are free of pesticides. They can be very toxic to humans. Stomach pumps are not fun! Be safe please!*

Honey lavender lemonade- (they say use sue bee honey, but local honey is better) www.suebee.com/honey-lavender-lemonade/

Summer solstice recipes- omlivin.com/celebrating-summer-solstice-6-recipes-summer-solstice/

How-to dandelion garland- http://pin.it/qSdhfhp

Dandelion bread- (another recipe is on the summer solstice website) saving4six.com/2013/05/dandelion-bread.html

Lavender lemon loaf cake- spiceinthecity.co/2014/09/02/floral-adventures-lavender-lemon-loaf-cake/

#litha #summer #solstice

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i-would-rather-be-queen · 7 years

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B.A.P Bodyguard Himchan ‘Phoenix With a Heartache’

anon asked: Hi! Could you please write a drabble expansion for himchan from bap as bodyguard? Thank you in advance!!

A/N: I don’t know why some of these turn out so much longer than others, lol. I hope you enjoy it though, honey. WARNING: Mentions of violence.

This is an expansion of a reaction I wrote here.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Of course you knew it could happen but over time you’d become more or less desensitized to the possibility. There were people out there that wanted you dead. It wasn’t anything of your doing, merely a consequence of being born into a certain family. To that end guards were a commonplace necessity in your world. You’d learned you were just a job to them and while you were polite, you didn’t try to make friends anymore.

Until one in particular came along. One as adept at making you laugh as he was protecting you. Your bond was something that bloomed slowly, built upon inside jokes and long conversations. Sharing things you’d never told another soul. Words rough as stone that hadn’t been polished smooth by being spoken before, yet when introduced to his would spark like flint. Love grew between you but you weren’t sure which form his took. Romantic such as your own? Did he see you as a friend or even worse a younger sibling?

And now you may never get a chance to find out because he’d been hurt trying to keep you safe.

Nothing had seemed out of place until the last second. Then the sound of shots being fired rang in the air and you were grabbed and hurried away. Frantically you looked for Himchan. Last you saw he’d been across the room talking to another guard when the chaos started.

Suddenly the man who was trying to get you to cover cried out and went down, leaving you feeling shocked and exposed. Searching for Himchan you turned and finally locked eyes with him. His expression was intensely focused as he rushed the last few yards to your side.

Expecting him to shepherd you to along to safety you were caught off guard when he slammed his body into your own. He tensed and then dragged you down to the floor, a dead weight on top of you. Panicking you shook his shoulders and called his name though he didn’t rouse. Not sure what to do and unwilling to leave him you rested your forehead against his slack cheek and bit back a sob when you began feeling a warm wetness soak into your clothes.

Things ended as abruptly as they began once the last few assailants were struck down. A whole new chaos ensued as your guards found you under Himchan’s unconscious form and tried to get you away from the scene. Steadfastly you refused and demanded to go with Himchan to the hospital. It was probably the first time you’d ever used your influence for selfish gain, but if you were to start, now would be the time.

So you sat anxiously in the hospital and waited for word. He’d been prepped for surgery immediately upon arrival but that had been hours ago. Not knowing how he was doing was worse than being shot at. You’d long since convinced your other guards you weren’t going home. When the nurse rushed into the room you were curled up in a stuffed chair trying to get as comfortable as possible. He said your name and you stood fearing the worst. Instead of confirming your fears he asked you to quickly follow him.

As you did a half jog down the hall to keep up with him he explained, “We can’t calm him down and it’s dangerous to sedate him again while he’s coming out of anesthesia.”

Confused by the statement you were about to ask for clarification when he opened the door and your eyes took in a shocking scene. Himchan was struggling with the nurses. In his efforts he’d torn off some of his sensors so alarms were sounding everywhere. He seemed delirious as he thrashed about but he was only yelling one thing.

Your name.

Before you even realized you were moving toward him, brushing the other people aside and asking for space. Grasping his hand you used your other one to push his sweaty bangs back. In as soothing voice as you could manage you murmured, “I’m here Himchan. It’s me, I’m right here.” Somehow your voice seemed to break through his confusion and he began to settle. His last bit of energy seemed to leave him as he fell back against the bed. But his hand never let go of your own.

Himchan appeared to be unconscious again. Nurses resumed their care, swiftly reattaching electrodes and sensors. As one was working she took a second to view you askance and said, “He wouldn’t stop looking for you. He thought we were lying to him when we said you were safe.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you brought your hand still clasped with his to your lips. What could you say to that? There could never be enough words to encompass what you felt at that moment.

Seeing the man you loved lying there, pale from loss of blood and in pain was almost more than you could bear. Especially since you were the cause. You stayed by his side, constantly holding his hand while idly stroking the top with the tips of your fingers. Sometimes you would speak to him in a low voice. Anything to let him know you were there for him.

Himchan slept deeply while his body repaired itself. The only time he seemed to stir was when you left to use the facilities or the nurses needed you out of the way.

By the second night you were exhausted. It was late and the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor was lulling you to sleep. No one had been in for awhile and you felt an almost physical ache to be close to Himchan. Carefully you eased yourself onto the edge of the bed. Stretching out beside him you lightly rested your head next to his shoulder. Your nose wrinkled at the smell of antiseptic that permeated everything but found it comforting all the same. It was proof he was alive. It could have been that you were already half asleep but you thought you felt Himchan squeeze your hand.

The next morning you got a sound scolding from the medical staff but you didn’t care. Himchan had woken up. And while he was undoubtedly still out of it, he watched you with a smile and tender eyes. For the first time since he’d been shot it felt like you could breathe.

But once back at home he seemed to avoid you. He was off duty for a few more weeks of recovery. You thought he’d use the chance to seek you out, maybe discuss some of the obvious feelings that had been unearthed.

Instead he was cold. Almost as if you meant nothing to him except for those times you caught him staring before he flicked his eyes away. As the days passed he become increasingly morose and took to walking the grounds late at night. After watching helplessly from a window a few times, you ventured down to join him.

It wasn’t a full moon, but seemed exceptionally bright nonetheless. The blueish light limned his profile and understanding struck why artists felt the desire to carve men from marble. “What are you doing out here, Himchan?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

“Things I shouldn’t be.” After releasing a sigh he faced you. “I need to resign.”

That was the last thing you expected to hear. Fear surged in your heart that it was from his injury. “Why? I thought the doctor said with physical therapy you’d get better. Is there something I don’t know? Are you ok?”

“I just…don’t think I’ll be effective anymore.”

Pausing for a moment you tried to parse what he was dancing around. “Take as much time as you need to recover. No one is going to rush you back into service.”

Grimacing, he turned away and faced the stars once again. “It doesn’t matter.”

Himchan was always so warm with you, almost stiflingly so at times. You didn’t know what to do with this new chilly version. It was starting to dawn on you that maybe you’d spent the last few weeks and then some assuming something that wasn’t true. He didn’t love you. Himchan was friendly with everyone, you just read more into it because of your own feelings.

Feeling sick, you weren’t sure if the lump in your throat was your pride or tears. “I- I see. If it’s what you really want I’ll let you go.”

Something in your voice made him look at you once more and his expression crumpled at what he saw. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what?” But then you felt the wetness beginning to trail down your cheeks. Flustered you hastily wiped at your face and took a step back, preparing to leave. “It’s ok, I understand. Really. I’ll miss you though.” Trying to be strong you smiled, relieved when you felt the corners only waver a little.

“Dammit.” In three swift strides he crossed over to you, pulling you close. Before taking your mouth with his he said, “This is killing me.”

The kiss was passionate, edging on frantic. It wasn’t just love that was conveyed but the shadow of fear as well. He left you gasping as he broke away. “I’ve never been good at denying myself what I want. And I want you. When I first woke at the hospital I thought you’d died. Honestly I didn’t think I could go on. Not if I failed you. And I’m so damn happy you’re alive but I don’t know what to do now. How can I protect you anymore if the idea of you being killed takes me right back to that panic?”

“Then don’t work for me.”

“What?” he looked as if you’d just suggested making a pie of kittens.

“I can get more guards Himchan. I can’t get another you. Believe me, I’m not too keen on you going into action again after nearly losing you. So it’s mutual. But I love you. I feel like you’re the only person I’ve really ever connected with in my whole life.”

The tension eased from his face. “Me too.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I could be your personal dancer,” he deadpanned.

It was the first time you’d seen his sense of humor surface since the shooting. You relished the feeling of normalcy it brought. Not really thinking it through you joked, “Or I could put you in a collar and call you my pet.”

Up this close you could see his eyes dilate with sudden arousal. “Whatever you want, just keep me.”

God you could fall into those eyes forever. Before hormones completely knocked your brain offline you had to ask, “Are you going to be alright letting others guard me without being there yourself?”

“They’ll watch you, but I’ll be watching them. Closely.”

You didn’t doubt it. He’d always been driven. Emotional incentive would only make him more so. If anybody could keep them all in line it’d be him.

The impulse came over you to give him a peck on the lips. For once you didn’t have to fight it so you did.

“What was that for?” he chuckled.

“Because I can. Because I’m happy.” Leaning in you did it again, then added another, each one getting longer and deeper. “Because I love you.”

Smiling against your lips, he added, “Because I’m yours.”

OTHER BODYGUARDS

#b.a.p scenarios #himchan scenarios #b.a.p imagines #himchan imagines #hallyuwritersnet #b.a.p #bap #bap scenarios #bap imagines #bap fanfic #b.a.p fanfic #bap x reader #b.a.p x reader #himchan x reader #my writing #kim himchan

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curiouskarenscapers2017 · 7 years

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Volume 7 February 2005

INDEX: Miaoli 2/6 ¡V 2/7 Chinese New Year 2/8 ¡V 2/9 Constantine 2/9 Traditional lunch 2/10 Taichung ¡V Chung Yo 2/12 Earthquake 2/19

And so the Chinese New Year sped towards us, the school slowed down and the holiday beckoned. Finally a few days without the kids and school! Whatever will we be doing?

Our plans still stood for getting on a train and going exploring towards the south of Taiwan. Melissa was to take new classes at the other school when the holiday was over so she was told to get driving lessons on the scooter with me as her teacher, let’s see how that goes. So Saturday dawned and we took the bike to the open parking lot where the night market usually gets set up. Melissa did great and looked like a pro. We went to the other schools where I gave her the tour as to what’s where and so on. We quickly went to Carrefour for some shopping and then went back to the apartment to drop the groceries off, and then the fun started! I told Melissa she could take the scooter back to the school and I will walk. It’s difficult to piggyback someone on a bike if you are not familiar with the bike in the first place. You have to do the one before the other. Get used to the balance and how the bike handles etc. So I followed her to where our parking garage exited into the road via a ramp. She revved the bike a few times, looked all professional and darted up the ramp! The red light came on warning of down coming traffic as she accelerated up the ramp. Just in time she saw the car as she rounded the first little bend in the ramp and applied the brakes. Sheeeeeew!! Good job!! Then as the car passed she revved the bike a tad too much and still had to turn the bike at a 90degree angle to round the corner, this was a tad too tricky for a beginner scooterist and she braked and accelerated at the same time and the bike didn’t turn at all!. I think one only realizes how fragile a scooter is when you try out a stunt like that! Melissa went north and the scooter went south. Thank goodness she had on her helmet because I heard it hit the wall from where I was. Full throttle into the pillar and wall! She was fine of course¡Kthinking her nose was broken initially and boy did that bruise a bit for the next two weeks! She was lucky it wasn’t broken! All in good spirits! I was wondering if the school would ever let us use the scooter again. I rode it back to the school….sideways as the suspension of the front tyre was a tad bent. We went on holiday that day so; we’ll see whether they’ll just fix it when we get back. Thanks hey! There you go! The basket was flat against the body, but I managed to pull it into somewhat of a square shape and put the front cover kinda back in to a presentable position. It looked fine man, no problem, just the sideways driving got me a bit, indicating this way and driving this way! Interesting, definitely tests the driving skills!!!!! Melissa was ok!

So that afternoon, which was Saturday 5th we were asked whether we wanted to go on holiday with total strangers! Of course we said yes and off we went at about 7:30 in the morning! We met up with Kim at her apartment with Alicia and met up with our first stranger Cynthia. A friend of Kim’s through her Salsa classes. We stopped at a McDonalds and waited for another pair called Edward and Iman, I named her, her Chinese name was similar and we thought she was very attractive so we named her after the super model, fair enough! Edward was cool and very funny; this was going to be cool. We also met up with another couple Jimmy and Mila, who was driving a black Solio (Suzuki) I want one!!!! So ugly but cute ugly! Bit bigger than a Smart car but a type of Smart van looking car! My mother would look good in one!! Maybe I can organize in my luggage somehow! I must say it was extremely big inside and looked smaller than it really was.

So off we went, where are we going? Oh, Miaoli, exactly like you would say it. I love these types of holiday’s they turn out to be the best, you expect nothing, no nobody and don’t know where you going! I was SOOOOO excited!!! My camera was fully charged and ready to go! Our first stop was in the misty mountains of Taiwan on our way in a Northerly direction, towards Taipei. It was stunning, everything was foggy or smoggy! Whatever, I thought of it as foggy! We went up winding little narrow roads until we reached a place called Lion¡¦ Head Mountain. Apparently it looks like a loin’s head from the one side and even has a tail obviously on the other side. What a cool place, all very eerie and misty and jungley. I loved it! I started clicking away immediately. I saw three old Chinese people sweeping the road on the way to the temple in traditional straw hats in the mist, you could just make them out, I took a stunning sepia coloured photo, it looked as if it was ancient times and I was swept away in my imagination into the days of Genghis Caan and whoever else terrorized the country side. I was all over the place while the group was deciding and waiting for people. We were on the back of the lion and started following a stairway down into the valley we couldn’t see because of the fog but I could “see” it! It was beautiful! Far off we could hear the forlorn sound of a flute playing and people’s voices.

We descended into the illusive valley feeling the air get damp and smelling the earthy vegetation.

The trees were entangled above us and the misty light filtering through them gave enough light to step onto the moss-covered stone steps. Slippery at times but manageable. Like a magical forest there appeared strange writings on the cliff walls, warning their travelers of dangers ahead or praying for their safe passage. Gray etched into cold hard gray.

The flute still beaconed and we were like adventurers in a lost land following the golden phoenix to some exotic mysterious destination that holds endless and priceless treasures and then it materializes through the mists of Miaoli. First the vague shape of a small Chinese temple roof top then the path connecting it to us and the smells of cooking. A small set up outside the main temple welcomed us and offered their wears that vary from traditional to plastic cell phones that play electronic tunes.

We entered the small gateway decorated in the traditional way. We were transported into another world of ancient traditions and beliefs with the flute as our guide.

The walkway lead us to our musician as he started another forlorn tune that brought memories of times past and lives lived. Surrounded by traditional instruments, maps and scrolls he smiled a toothless smile and offered us to try the flutes. I tentatively chose a large bamboo flute and tried to sound like him, but to no avail. It sounded like me blowing out my candles on my last birthday…scary! Anyway, where were we..?Oh yes, I wished him a Happy New Year in Chinese (shienien Kwai lur) and we disappeared into the mist.

As we left him and heard the flute again we rounded a corner and there the ancient temple emerged brightly decorated against the gray walls and floors. It looked like a sentry watching over mankind and the mountain staring out straight ahead into the mist.

The rooftops are ornately decorated with flying faans (like a peacock but an ancient bird that is always depicted fighting a dragon)

The roof tops slowly appeared out of the mist and the treasure was revealed! It looked like a mythical battle scene between animals time forgot.

It was a strange and beautiful sight. I turned around to find how best to describe what I felt at this stage and to truly capture the atmosphere that existed here. A feeling of spiritual awe combined with reverence and excitement of discovery. An amazing experience! I clicked away.

We went exploring further, every nook and cranny! No ornament was left unturned. They had a small cave carved out of the stone and molded to offer a cave like experience with a surprise at the end for the one who explores effectively.

Then our group had to turn back and continue our journey to our end destination of Miaoli. Our payment for being able to experience this amazing place and seeing the forbidden was 1115 steps back up the lions back! We gasped for air as we reached the top.

Thanks for that!!

We stopped off at a traditional restaurant that offered teas and cakes….with a difference.

You have to make it yourself! Interesting!

But it was the best fun. Our first task was to make Lai Tsa, which is a traditional tea that you make by grinding nuts and herbs into a pasty substance.

Jimmy and Bruce grinning on. The waitress then brings hot tea water and we mixed them together and stirred until the green thickish soup is ready for consumption!

Delightful taste with a nutty and often chewy texture to it! I had about 6 cups….They were small cups man! Then came the Chinese cake. Many cakes here in Taiwan are of a chewy substance or texture. More like a kind of dough not cooked. The traditional Chinese Cake we had comes in a plate with a white/cream sticky dough and surrounded by crushed peanuts. You pull the dough apart into manageable balls that stick to the chopsticks you have to use to the pulling apart and then you dunk it in the peanut powder. Lovely!! Good taste too, but not too much. I did however have the urge to do the usual van der Spuy mixing things together to see what it would taste like etc. and then added the peanut powder to my lai tsa….the best move ever, tasted even better!

Once again Jimmy and Bruce show us how it’s done!! Thanks boys!! I’ll look into getting them on a cooking show, maybe the Jimmy and Bruce Ready Steady Cook!! Or maybe the BJ Cook club….or not!

Anyway, that was our little “koek en tee” the Chinese way! On our way out we were hijacked into making somebody else’s Chinese cake…..

They asked for this, man!!! Enjoy guys! I hope that comes off our bill!! Kim got “stuck” into it as well…you go girl!

“Back on the road again”, Shrek 2 – Donkey’s holiday song in the coach! Cynthia’s driving was great as we hugged the mountains and veered to miss the race down hill! I’ll let her drive any day! We arrived shortly after, at a famous traditional Hakka restaurant….”what are we doing here?” I asked innocently, “we are having lunch” they said rubbing their hands together…”oh, again?” I asked. Silly question. Needless to say I only had a bit but boy the bit I had was a stunning lamb stew pot while the others got stuck into all kinds of different foods. When I tasted the lamb, I was transported back home on a Sunday and having a lamb neck potjie………..aaaaahhh yes. It was soo rich compared to what we were getting used to here in Taiwan that a few cubes of meat later I was stuffed….I like Hakka food very much!!!

Hakka was and is the traditional people of Taiwan. Like our Zulus or Ndebele. Same types of clothing and art works. Very interesting how that happens continents away and millennia apart. Their clothes are very bright and colorful, lots of reds and blues. Stunning.

After that we found our accommodation and everyone was ready to pass out! The total trip was not even 2 hours driving from Changhua, where we live. We drove into the little country town bustling with people and scooters. We stayed at staff accommodation for a company called Changhwa Telecoms. Stunning way of doing it. The shop is on the road level and the rooms are above on the 4th floor.

We got given our options of rooms as we were the only people staying there for the night. We checked the room and it reminded me a lot of the usual Holiday inn rooms, maybe a tad smaller, Formula One, maybe. The we saw the VIP suite, never been used in mint condition with a widescreen TV…we’ll take it!!! SO the four foreign people take the VIP room and organize accordingly. There was a double bed and we added two mattresses we found in another room. Amazing little thin mattresses, very comfortable!

So we crashed for what was about 30min, when a knock at the door revealed Edward asking whether we wanted to go to the lake. Kim slept and Alicia, Melissa and I went. The “lake” turned out to be a bit of a pond really. Nice and all, in the forest and everything but a little pond. We also walked a trail around it, which was very interesting and I rescued two puppies in a drain pipe trying to get out, obviously exploring too far! They were fine! The mother followed us for a while…probably to say thank you or thanks for getting the kids out when I wanted them in there for some peace and quiet! Anytime!!!!

We got back, woke Kim with M&M’s and we slowly got ready. The bathing suits were on, the towels were ready and off we went to the hot springs! It wasn’t even 10min drive from us. The steam rose as we approached the front entrance. We paid 350 NT and got given a disk. We turned around to where the shoe exchange was and got some funky slops. We walked down a walkway to where the pools were under roof but outside, so inviting! We got to the counter where you could get changed in the change rooms or leave your belongings in a locker. As you use the locker you get a plastic bracelet with the key on. Cool!!! Sun City must get this!

We were ready! In about 5min we were in the pools. What a cool feeling, nearly like my swimming spa but the real thing! Then the adrenaline kicked in, I was allover the place. What’s there, oh, ice cold water and there? Oh boiling water….hmmmmm interesting…what if I run from here and jump in the boiling water, then go from there to the ice cold pool and then back into the warm pool, what will happen? Let’s!!! I nearly passed out that’s what happened, when I hit the ice cold pool after a circuit, my eyes gave me drunk vision, my skin glowed a stunning tomato red colour as the circulation tried to keep up and I couldn’t walk straight without crawling through the boulders to the warm pool…I stayed there while until my sight steadied….sheeeeewwww what a rush!!!! And so we cooked and steamed for about 3 hours. Then the photo’s started! Kay arrived and she started taking the photos. We got a stunning “Zoolander” pose in that will do the movie proud! Left – Melissa, back – Alicia, right – Kim and front and centre- Karen. Just incase you couldn’t see past the “blue steel” look!

The last photo is more the Gorillas in the Mist look, my personal opinion.

After, that we went for supper at a restaurant and had dumplings. Not our dough dumplings that we know but a pastry with a vegetable filling steamed or fried. Delicious!

In this little restaurant there were the owners two kids, a little boy and a girl. The boy probably around 5 and the girl about 6 or 7. They were clearing the tables and wiping it down. I want to see our kids do that at that age. The little boy sat behind the till like the manager afterwards just incase we needed something else. The little girl brought our serviettes and chopsticks. Too cute!

We arrived back at our room and got ready to relax when the knock at the door asked us to join them in the staff party room. No ways!!!! We fixed up a bit and sauntered down the corridor to the end where there was a glass door. We opened it and the music flowed forth! The karaoke was in full swing with the singers looking bopping away excitedly. I have gained a new respect fro KTV (Karaoke TV) it is an amazing bonding experience! We were such an amazing composition of people together that it was probably the most exciting holiday in Taiwan ever!!! We soon got hooked into singing a few songs, although the English selection was a bit on the golden oldie side with the latest thing, Lemon Tree that was in Chinese except for …..”Lemon Tree”! House of the rising sun was sung with great gusto on our part, with Let it be a close second!!! With cheers and clapping and singing going on there was no ways anybody was having a bad time!!! I made a video of the Chinese girls singing a stunning little pop song in a real girl band manner!

What a party! Jimmy mixed some Famous Grouse 12years old in a decanter and I had a strange mix of Smirnoff ice and whiskey…interesting! We eventually went to bed around 11ish. And had a very fitful sleep!!! What a day!

We woke up and were soon carted off to breakfast at another Hakka delicacy restaurant. In the early morning hours Kay’s brother, Cynthia’s boyfriend was collected at the airport for a surprise visit from the USA. Needless to say Cynthia was the happiest ever!! She doesn’t see him for about 6months at a time while he studies there. His name was Chris.

Not your usual bacon and eggs but boy do I love this Hakka food….did I say that? It is rich and oily, just like home! Not so bad, but when you get used to steamed rice, cooked chicken and veggies and soy sauce, this is rich and oily

We were preparing to leave to go and find some more hot springs in a place called Taian. But not before we have a little group shot of the travelers from all over the globe who can get along like they were best friends for years!!!!

And off we went! Next!!!!

This time Chris was driving, there was definitely a difference…we were the ones racing down the mountain. Luckily we stopped at a temple in the mountains with a great view over a valley. The mists had subsided a bit and we had a clear day.

Enlarge the bottom right photo for a history on this temple, very interesting.

A bit of a subdued trip today as everybody was recovering and probably because we were going home at the end of it. But the warm breeze kept breezing, the sun kept shining and we were soon off again.

We finally arrived at Taian where a lot of construction was happening in the river bed. Their river’s here is not like ours where you have mainly sand and silt. Here it’s all volcanic because of the origins of the land, so the river bed is a river of gravel and boulders. Did I mention the river?…..what river? In a broad river bed of about 500m or more across, I’d say the river measured about 3ft across. They had built a road in the riverbed…my only concern was, if they are doing that and spending money on putting a road there, does the river EVER get any bigger say in the rainy season?….obviously not!! But it is a weird feeling driving on a tarred road in a riverbed! Images of the Mummy Returns keep popping up in my mind where the towering wall of water chases them through the canyons! Hey, I’m just visiting!

And guess what else they do here that we also do in good old SA….strawberry picking! What a treat, I have to come to Taiwan to do what my brother has done ages go in SA. Go figure! They organized a basket and we were allocated and area. We didn’t do serious picking, just enough for the group! They were huge!!! Not the big red one on the photo, that’s a balloon, the others.

Come and get your farm fresh strawberries from us, where you pick the strawberries and we smile!!

And off we went again! We arrived at a hot spring spa called Sunrise. Quite impressive but we ended up not swimming while the others did and had a coffee instead.

I went exploring for old times sake before we went home and waved good buy to a memorable holiday! I couldn’t believe it when they sorted out the bill for the weekend and we had to pay NT 500 each, this included all the lunches etc. R100 or less. Our accommodation we paid as we arrived and that was another R100 for the VIP suite and we paid NT350=R70 for the hot springs. They didn’t want to know about us paying for petrol! It was truly the best and cheapest holiday in a very long time!!! When are we going again??? Hey hey hey! We exchanged email addresses and said our sad good byes!

And so the Chinese New Year began. It was Monday and Tuesday on their new year’s eve we were invited to go to Monica’s family get together. What an experience that will be to have a family dinner as we do over Christmas, very much the same feeling as our Christmas, where family come together from all over. Apparently the greatest movement of people on earth over this time period. Mainland China and Taiwan exchange millions as people go home!

So we got picked up by Monica and off we went. Not to far outside Chunghua and not too far from Lukang, just on the outskirts between the two cities, where rice paddies greet the eye and open areas are being cultivated.

We arrived and were warmly greeted and made comfortable while we started watching “Meet the Fockers”. Here one realizes that humour is definitely a universal language although many nuances are lost, the main ideas are understood and found funny. Finally we were ushered outside to an open area surrounded by three buildings, a horseshoe shaped building with three separate parts. The building on the left was the house of the oldest son whose responsibility it is to look after the mother and father and who lives with them on the property. The centre building is reserved for their temple or rather shrine. This has a certain format and is the same where ever you go in Taiwan. It consists of two huge tables. One the height of about 5ft and about 7ft across in length. On this are placed the deities. Here were three. The god of the mental, old wise looking guy with a long white beard and white clothes, much like Gandalf in Lord of the rings without the hat. On the right a red faced god with black beard which is the god of the physical (Kung Fu) and in the centre a woman. Also on this level they placed insence and tangerines which is the fruit of New Year and good fortune. The second table is the same as the first but just smaller and fits in under the bigger one, usually drawn out in a step formation with incense and a few other items on it. All red lighting and coverings. Very interesting. The right building is also for family to stay in. In the little courtyard, about 5 round tables were placed with about 5 bowls of food on each. You get handed your little bowl, they fill it with rice or noodles (like spaghetti) and you add your meats and veggies on top and eat them together. Very festive! People chatting, family greeting, each uncle and aunt did their rounds to the various tables to wish each a happy New Year and good fortune. We toasted every time they came around, good wine!!

Even the dog has to use chopsticks to eat! Impressive!!! After the dinner we were invited to the uncles’ house for Oolong tea. We all sat there and drank our tea and eventually we left.

Monica took us to Puck’s place, her boyfriend, an artist who writes the most amazing Chinese scrolls. I’ll have to organise. We were under the impression that they do a count down like we do and braced our selves for the blast and thunder of crackers after twelve. But as we count down nothing happened. They have a temple ceremony at each temple and televised the main ones in Taipei and Lukang and other major centres. People were waiting outside the temples for the gates to be opened. Their custom is to place incense sticks in a sand filled earn and make their wishes. So the idea is that as the doors open whoever places their sticks in the earn first will have good luck for the year. So around 20 past midnight after they were waiting for a ceremony inside to be completed the door opened and people dashed for the earns….scary, few people got trampled etc. but in the end the sticks were placed en though it sometimes got thrown in from a distance, as long as it stays. Was very different to watch. No crackers were heard in the streets on our way back home. In fact more crackers were lit days after as businesses reopened and lit firecrackers at the entrance to ward of the ninien monsters. The beliefs are, much like Christian belief in Egypt when goats blood was placed on the door frames to ward of the evil spirit of death, they place red banners on the door frames with well wishes to ward off the ninien monsters of ancient times that killed and were evil. The crackers were originally gunpowder in bamboo roots, an ancestor found that this works well to scare the monsters and the tradition was started that any new venture or if things were not going well or there was a new beginning, crackers were to be lit together with a little table outside with offering to the gods. But later on that….

So we were invited back on Thursday for the 2nd round of the New Year Celebrations when the daughters returned from their new families. Cool tradition, we should do that over Christmas, will solve all the family issues when Christmas lunches and dinners are held. So after a day of rest the Wednesday we decided to go and watch Constantine with Keanu Reeves, the battle between Good and Evil continues, extremely well done!

We arrived on Thursday, for lunch this time, and the same set up was organized. This time just a younger crowd with many kids.

Monica and her sister. They bring all the soups and stews in bags and decant it into the bowls on the tables. We were given a doggy bag to take home with crab meat, prawns, mud prawns, fish and calamari or squid…delicious. Interesting foods as well, like shark fin soup, nice taste though, a pork and veggie soup which was quite rich and lots of vegetables and battered mud prawns that look like huge termites! Yummy!!! The shark fin soup bugged me because there was such uproar when that syndicate in Cape Town was caught out to have killed thousands of sharks just for their fins. They believe it’s good for your skin.

SO after yet another meal and interesting wheat drink we were ushered into the living room and KTV was waiting for us! The uncles and the smallest boy I have ever seen singing like a professional! Holding the microphone and making sure the wire isn’t trapped or stuck somewhere while his singing and bouncing up and down. If there was something wrong with a microphone he’d come over and hand you another one after telling you there’s something wrong with yours, even though you were too happy not to be heard properly!! We eventually got sung out, although we were trying hard to keep a low profile at this stage, went home to sleep!

Had a very good night’s rest after that! A whole week without school, weird!!! Saturday we decided to go to Taichung a bit and walk around, find the Jade market and go looking for Chung Yo one of the biggest shopping centres in Taiwan. So off we went to the train station. On the train at about 9:30 10:00 and arrived around 11:00am. We hit the streets with Lonely Planet at our side telling us where what was. We found the Jade market near the station and what a treasure chest this was. I was in awe of the craftsmanship and prices, so cheap for quality amulets and bracelets and pendants etc. My mom would have a field day here with all these beads!!!

It was a maze of little turns and alleys under roof. We ended up an hour or so later emerging into the sunlight and facing a stunning park. We went walking around it a bit after a drink and snack from the 711. The park had a pond where people were rowing and walking around. A fate or market of some sort was at the far end and we ended up walking through the whole park to check everything. They had the most stunning little gazebo in a Japanese style garden around it.

As we climbed the little hill and arrived at the top, a huge weird statue surprised us. I later, on closer inspection, saw that it was a base station (I think), made by Changhwa Telecoms, these people are everywhere!

After the park we walked up the street and found what we have been looking for….the mother of all malls!

This is the bridge that connects each building with the other. Three buildings with over 10 floors.

This was the best mall ever!!! The others we have been to like Mitsukoshi or Sogo are very up market malls where you do not get any cheaper normal people type stores, everything is Loui Vuitton and Gucci and Benetton, Diesel etc. This one has those as well on the lower level and the cheaper things further up. Where our malls work the opposite way, mostly. By this time I suddenly realized we have been walking since 11am, it was around 5pm when we decided to stop to eat something. Take that Lyndon, it must be some kind of a new shopping record! We went to TGIF – Fridays, had a hamburger and fries and had to ask for white vinegar…they actually had salt on the table…it was heavenly!! I had a glass of wine that actually tasted like our normal box wine we get when asking for a glass….stunning! We made our way back to the station, got lost in a flea market first and left around 9pm. We arrived at Changhua around 10pm and walked home slowly as my legs started cramping and I felt like I was back at having growing pains again!!! I collapsed on my bed around 11pm with my legs elevated to get some of the blood back to my brain!

On Saturday morning at about 4:20am I was shaken awake by some illusive force! When I surfaced I realized after a few seconds that the building was being shaken by an earthquake a tad bigger than the usual. How do I know this? I was sleeping! To wake me up you need to be pretty imaginative and or very loud!!! I would have loved to know how much that was on the Richter’s scale. Felt as bad as one of our first one’s. One of those was 7. something off the coast of Ilan, There is a fault there and that’s where most of the quakes originate. About 150km off the north-eastern coast. Lovely! I think if I had a choice I would prefer earthquakes in the evening when I’m a sleep. My motto “Ignorance is Bliss!!!

Sunday sailed past slowly, we had a braai and relaxed for a change. And Monday the school started again, on Valentines Day! Sad!

But we have another holiday coming up on the 2/28. It was a political massacre in Taiwan’s early years and Green Island was then the Robben Island of SA. Ryno went to Green Island with Andrew for initially 3 nights and four days and eventually ended up staying and extra two nights as the party was way too cool to come back, many South Africans, mostly teachers from Taipei. Next holiday!! Blade 3 is also planned for our Feb entertainment! Then I think we’re broke…again! All worth it!

Just to end off our month with a bang we had a school dinner at a department store called IDEE. A stunning 12 floor shopping centre with the top two floor restaurants. We visited a buffet styled restaurant with food in various nooks and crannies. Beautifully designed as most of their restaurants. Most of their restaurants are designed in a very up market dark wood and glass setting. Although the prices are very reasonable. This one was NT500 per person = R100 eat as much as you want with drinks included. Definitely worth it although the school paid, so it was even better!!! The boys went for the meet and the girls went for the Hagen Daasz stand for dessert! Obviously!! Delicious!

So another month has come to an end and February as short, wet and cold as it was has passed! 5 months to go girls and boys! Enjoy your week!

Taiwan Times Vol 7 Volume 7 February 2005 INDEX: Miaoli 2/6 ¡V 2/7 Chinese New Year 2/8 ¡V 2/9 Constantine 2/9…

#explore #Food #sightseeing #taiwan #teaching #travel

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