Powerful: Pringles Has Unveiled A Line Of Damp Chips That Won’t Crunch Loud Enough To Ruin A Moment Of Silence For Our Fallen Soldiers
If you’re looking for a company that really cares about the troops, look no further than Pringles.
Few people deserve more respect and adoration than the heroes who willingly sacrifice their lives to protect America’s freedom, and no one knows that better than Pringles, which is stepping up for the troops in a big way: The snack-manufacturing powerhouse just introduced a new line of damp chips that won’t crunch loud enough to ruin a moment of silence for our fallen soldiers.
Wow. What a powerful way to help customers show respect for the troops!
According to Pringles executives, the new line of chips will come in the same essential flavors customers have come to love, but will be presoaked inside the Pringles tube, making the chips just damp enough to replace any crunching sounds that would disrupt a somber rendition of “Taps” with a gentle, muffled sloshing. Through extensive testing, these mushier chips have been shown to be so quiet that, when eaten, it is virtually impossible to make enough noise to ruin a moment of silence for a fallen soldier.
With the new product, which they’re calling Patriot’s Discretion Pringles, customers will now be able to pull out a few wet chips, place the damp snack onto their tongues or pack it into their cheeks, and let their favorite flavors melt into their mouths, all without the fear of bringing a hero’s memorial to a screeching halt with a single, booming bite.
“Everyone wishes they could be eating chips when they’re at a service commemorating a fallen solider, but up until now, it’s just been way too loud,” said Pringles CEO Michael A. Powell at an event unrolling their newest product. “Before, the best you could do was settle for something quiet like mints or gum, but those bland, flavorless days of quiet respect are now a thing of the past.”
“We at Pringles know how important it is to remember those who have sacrificed their lives to protect the American way,” he added. “And now, with our line of damp Patriot’s Discretion Pringles, there is finally a way to do it without sacrificing your hunger.”
Amazing. It looks like Pringles is a company that isn’t about to let customers ruin a moment of silence, but isn’t about to let them go hungry either. Whether you’re at a veteran’s funeral, halftime at a local high school football game, or even the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, the days of having to choose between tossing back a couple Pringles or paying tribute to a fallen service member seem to be over. Here’s to hoping more companies begin showing the same commitment to our troops that Pringles does!
Whilst I still stand by my first endgame theory, today I want to explore an alternative way the endgame could potentially unfold.
One day at Radley, Charlotte accidentally pushed Marion Cavanaughoff the roof. Jessica, who was on the board at Radley, agrees to help her niece Charlotte by ruling Marion’s death a suicide, but internally within Radley, Charlotte blamed Bethany for it. Charlotte reversed the roles when telling her story to the liars in 610 so that they would feel sorry for her.
Jessica feels bad that an innocent patient, Bethany, was blamed for something her niece did so she signs Bethany out of Radley to adopt and ride a horse. Considering she helped Charlotte get away with it, it is the absolute least Jessica can do. But Bethany isn’t appreciative of these sympathetic gifts because she knows that Jessica is having an affair with her father. Jessica asks Bethany to call her “aunt Jessie” as a way of saying “I’m not having an affair with your father, I’m just a long lost aunt hence I’ve been around your father lately!” Bethany throws a tantrum and buckets after Jessica’s lies. “Is it like mother like daughter?” and “can I trust anyone in that family?” says Bethany in her recordings. Bethany’s hatred is building towards two dead characters, ‘mother and daughter’ Charlotte and Jessica. (Even young Charles thought they were a part of the DiLaurentis family for quite some time.)
After Charles’ funeral, Charlotte’s doctors let her go, out of belief that trapping a transgender patient in a mental asylum isn’t doing any good. And, she’s apparently been making progress… again, Bethany was blamed for Charlotte’s fatal mistake. She never returned to Radley as Charlotte: she was free to walk the streets of Rosewood. She created the new alias CeCe Drake, after having found out about her birth mother Mary Drake (although having still never met her). CeCe attended college and shared a roommate, explaining how she knew everyone at Eric Kahn’s party and perhaps how she slipped into the Rosewood High yearbook. This also explains why Charlotte needed a visitors pass to see Mona in Radley, as she was no longer a patient that can sneak down the hall.
During college, CeCe and Noel happened to be at the same frat party. Noel accidentally pushed a girl down the stairs, but of course the bystander ex-Radley patient gets the blame for it. As a result, Charlotte is kicked out of college for something Noel did. Hence Noel helped Charlotte in the dollhouse; he felt he owed something to Charlotte. He took something from her that she worked extra hard for.
While CeCe was off beginning her new life in Rosewood (still before ‘that night’), Bethany was still in Radley, taking medication that should have Charlotte’s name on it, drowning in her own drool. That’s sure to drive her crazy.
“That night”, Bethany escaped with the intent of killing Charlotte as revenge for ruining her life. Jessica, who was Bethany’s caretaker at Radley, got a call that night from Radley workers informing her that Bethany has escaped. “I’m very worried, please send someone”, said Jessica, knowing how much Bethany hates her and her niece. A war was brewing. Charlotte wanted to hurt Bethany before Bethany harms anyone. Charlotte accidentally hit Ali instead of Bethany, but thankfully Mrs. Grunwald came to Ali’s rescue. “I swear I thought it was Bethany, mum” cried Charlotte.
Mona hit Bethany with a shovel thinking she was hitting Ali; she hated Ali that much. The purpose of a psychic saving Ali was because only a psychic could know to come back to Rosewood and save another person: Bethany Young. Mrs Grunwald sensed more danger and went and saved Bethany. I don’t like supernatural elements as much as the next person, but it exists, and we have to acknowledge it and use it.
Notice how the person saving Ali/Bethany is different in the two instances. TWO people were pulled out of the dirt. (Red sleeve vs no sleeve.)
Bethany Young is alive.Bethany Young is Uber A and AD, which stands for After Death. Whilst there have been many deaths over the seasons, Bethany’s “death” was THE death that started it all and so it’s very iconic for her to go by AD. We know AD has to be someone who has access to medical records, as they leaked Yvonne’s abortion and Veronica’s sickness. Who better than someone who successfully faked her death?
Bethany couldn’t stand the idea of that bitch Charlotte getting 5 years treatment and then getting to go home with her family, happily ever after. As revenge, Bethany killed Charlotte the exact same way that Charlotte killed Marion and blamed her for it: Charlotte was pushed off a building (bell-tower).
Here is our clue from the writers that we should be looking at Bethany. In the (FAKE) flashback we saw of Bethany, she was wearing this red sweater.
Yet we saw someone in an awfully similar red sweater walk into the bell-tower the very night Charlotte was killed: Bethany? Again, even though it was a fake flashback and that red sweater doesn’t technically exist, it is the writers foreshadowing.
And if it wasn’t already clear, Bethany killed Jessica, too… the affair that could’ve teared apart her family forever (Bethany might have become related to Charlotte, that thought scared Bethany!) and Jessica also helped Charlotte get away with pushing Marion. Jessica had to go. Season 5A made it extremely easy to guess that Melissa and/or Peter killed Jessica with Peter’s drugs, and hence they lied about where they were the night she was killed. Yet, here we are in 7A, and the writers still haven’t confirmed Melissa and Peter’s involvement. For that reason, I believe the answer is elsewhere. If it really was Melissa and Peter, that could’ve been confirmed years ago. If it really was Melissa and/or Peter, why is it being extended into season 7B? Because there’s more to the story. It was Bethany.
Bethany/AD chooses to frame Melissa for Charlotte’s murder. Out of all people in Rosewood, why did the killer chose Melissa? Because Melissa has a motive that would make sense in front of a jury: Charlotte sent Wren the video of Melissa confessing to burying Bethany the actual person in the grave, which lead to Wren breaking up with her. Melissa’s relationship crumbled, combined with the simple fact that Charlotte is in possession of a video that could destroy Melissa’s reputation forever, is why Bethany decided Melissa is the perfect candidate to frame: she would have a motive to want Charlotte dead.
Bethany stole Melissa’s suitcase, broke the handle and bashed Charlotte’s head with it. She then put the suitcase back before Melissa notices it’s missing… or did she? Whilst unpacking her clothes, Melissa says in 613 “I know I had more clothes in here”. Evidently Melissa’s suitcase was tampered with.
Melissa was the person sending unsigned, emoji texts throughout 6B. She was being harassed by Bethany, that if she doesn’t admit to killing Charlotte or find another killer before the end of the election night, her confession video will be shared with everyone.
How did Bethany even get her hands on this video? From Wren. As we know, Charlotte sent the video to Wren so clearly Wren is in possession of this video. The reason he instantly ended his relationship with Melissa is because Bethany is his sister and he was mad that Melissa potentially killed his sister and didn’t say anything. Of course, she’s alive now, but what a big secret that is to keep.
As Emily stated in 617 after being attacked, “there’s definitely 2 people after us”. Bethany wanted Emily to touch the suitcase handle (why not have a second person to frame?) whilst Melissa was the one trying to get it back to save herself.
Marlene has said there is one question she can’t wait to answer, but she can’t tell us what this question is because the question itself is a spoiler. That question is precisely “who is actually in the grave?“ The answer is one that makes total sense: Alison’s twin. This also explains how the Jane Doe was identified as Alison in the first place: similar DNA.
They foreshadowed this in 513 by showing a dead Alison in a grave. This was the writers telling us that YES, despite all complications, there really is an Alison in the grave. We already have twins; Mary and Jessica. However, scientifically, twins CAN give birth to twins. So, it is possible to have another set of twins involved in the endgame. Also, Marlene has explicitly said that “we won’t see Courtney”. We may never actually find out the name of Ali’s twin. It doesn’t matter. They aren’t alive, they aren’t A like in the books. We will never see them. They are DEAD.
It’s also possible that the person in the grave is a random girl we’ve never met before - probably one of the many new cast members joining the finale.
This is tricky to answer for 2 reasons:
- At the time of this Tweet, Marlene knew there will be a FAKE flashback involving Bethany in 610. Ignore that flashback COMPLETELY. It never happened. That was Charlotte retelling a story of lies.
- There is before the incident regarding her face,
- There is after the incident regarding her face.
One day whilst on temporary release, Bethany was with Jenna in Jenna’s garage. Alison and her friends threw fireworks inside and as a result, Jenna was blinded and Bethany was burnt. This is how the show is coming full circle as we are circling right back to the stories of season 1. Bethany hates Ali and the girls for the permanent damage she has suffered.
Alison blamed Toby for ‘The Jenna/Bethany Thing’ which Bethany assumes means that Toby was involved, too. Hence, in a true moment of anger right after her name was announced to the public on television, Bethany blew up Toby’s house.
Note that Bethany never shows her face in her pictures. This is not laziness by any means, she is actually a brilliant artist.
So whilst Bethany is framing Melissa for Charlotte’s murder, she is harassing the Liars over it too because they ruined her life.
Bethany/AD is walking around Rosewood in masks. Her face is deformed, on top of the fact that she’s supposed to be dead. She cannot show her face. Further, 6A revealed that Bethany Young shared a room in Radley with Leslie Stone. That same season we saw Leslie with boxes of glasses identical to those that AD has been wearing. Leslie knows Bethany is alive and she was trying to locate her long lost friend - she found her!
Bethany shot Spencer as not only revenge for burning her (The Jenna/Bethany Thing), but for being the one to bash her over the head that night. Of course, Spencer didn’t actually do it (Mona did) but since everyone in Rosewood thought it was Spencer, Bethany later latched on to this popular belief. (Note: if Alison survived a rock to the head, Bethany survived a bashing to the head, too. Heightened reality, unfortunately.)
This message was from Bethany:
Again, note the blacked face.
This Black Veil person from 401 was Bethany. CeCe’s story of who this person was, revolved around Sara Harvey pulling off a veil to reveal her face, but in reality, there is a (BURNT) Alison mask underneath that veil. CeCe’s version couldn’t be true as Sara never had a mask when she entered the limo. Sara never saw the girls as dolls - Sara was just Charlotte’s decoy, so it makes no sense for Sara to have been playing dolly earlier… This is Uber A.
Why would Sara Harvey care about Bethany Young? She doesn’t. Below is Bethany sending flowers to her family who she misses. She wants to tell them she’s alive and well! But first she wants to finish off this game and punish the people who hurt her.
Despite the above Tweet being from 2013, she is going to follow through with that in these final episodes because:
I know what you’re probably thinking… Bethany being Uber A is not satisfying. To me, it is! It goes right back to season 1 as it revolves around ‘that night’. The person that suffered that night in the pilot, is back for revenge!
I could do a part 2 for this theory to explain who is Bethany. Who are her parents? Is she a DiLaurentis? Is the “aunt Jessie” thing supposed to be taken literally - is she a Drake? Is she someone’s twin? Is Melissa Bethany? Is Sara Harvey Bethany (I hope not, but very possible)? Is Bethany Charlotte’s twin who also transitioned, hence Jason thought he saw CeCe that night (but really it was Bethany, like Charlotte says)? I believe we are dealing with Bethany - but who is Bethany, is for another day. I do NOT believe for a split second they will make Uber A be a person we’ve never met before. That’s pathetic.
When the Bethany-ideas came flooding to me, I googled ‘Bethany is Uber A’ to see the fan consensus on this topic and the first result was an amazing post by @the-outlast. Whilst we have some largely contrasting opinions on some aspects, shoutout to this person for a couple pieces of evidence I used to explain our belief that Bethany is alive :)
Today, sixteen year old Lance Salazar was on a mission. It was a secret mission. No one could know about his plan he’d been devising for a year now. He wore his favourite sky blue Italian suit with a royal blue dress shirt underneath it and a much lighter blue for the tie around his neck, and a dark blue (close to black) pants to complete the set. He sneaked out early in the morning, where the sun was still sleeping and the mountain was covered by a heavy fog making unpleasant wanderers to get lost this time of the day. He was not alone though, no, he could never accomplish this mission alone.
Lance used the secret underground passageway, one that was created for each Salazar child but differ to each other in usage, it was total darkness and a simple roamer would never find their way out. But not Lance, never him, he knew every cracks and every crevices of the path hidden in the shadows. He could hear every sound, every breath, and every beat. He could smell the faint scent of water that covered the tiled slippery ground by a few millimeters. He could feel every presence and intent if someone would decide to crouch in his territory. A Salazar always utilizes every sense they have. It was a simple rule of their life.
Finally reaching the exit, a man taller and older than him of ten years was waiting for him. He was one of the most trusted servants that Lance learned to cling on and in return he was given an unconditional loyalty. This man was one of Lance’s personal butlers and his name was Marcello*. His red hair was like a beacon in this fog and as such it was the reason why he covered it by a black fedora and it seemed also that Marcello just liked to stick with the stereotyped Mafia attire. Not that Lance could complain since he was wearing a full blown Italian suit.
Lance showed him the hush sign and Marcello just nodded at him in return with a soft smile that Lance really liked to see. It was a smile full of assurance that someone got his back for better or for worse. Marcello handed him a simple black trench coat. Lance looked at it with great distaste, just because they were Mafioso didn’t mean that they should always wear colors like they were going to a funeral. But still, he let Marcello put it over his shoulders. Marcello closed the buttons and chuckled a bit when Lance muttered under his breath that he was not a child and he could do it on his own, thank you very much.
They took the west side of the mountain until the two of them reached the car waiting for them. Marcello opened the door of the backseat and guided Lance to get in and after that he sat on the passenger seat.
“Ready now, Young Master Lance?” their driver for this mission was Benita, Marcello’s twin sister, her hair was a shade lighter compared to her brother but they have the same olive skin. She was wearing a standard Salazar maid uniform with the insignia of the Familia imprinted on the right side of her sleeves. At least she was not like her brother who wanted to flaunt the stereotyped mafia attire. Though it was hard not to express which family you belong to.
“Let’s do this.” Lance relaxed on his seat, he was trying to let go of his nervousness. If everything will go according to plan then that would be a plus for him. But if things will turn out for the worst…there was a high possibility that the three of them would be branded as traitors.
Let fate decide his worth.
There were many Famiglia* inside the Cosa Nostra* but still among them the most powerful groups still arise and feared by others or envied by some to the point of wanting to take them down. The three Famiglia along with the Arcobaleno that represents the tri-ni-sette policy were probably considered the strongest ones. Whoever allied with them will either be really lucky or very unfortunate. Milliefiore Famiglia was not really the sanest group you would ever meet. The Mare Sky ring holder has the ability to travel multiple parallel worlds at their own whim after all. The bloodline of Giglio Nero, also the one who became the constant holder of the Arcobaleno Sky pacifier, has the ability to see snippets of possible futures. Though the events going to happen were sometimes could not be deciphered properly. The Vongola Sky ring was probably the one that harmonizes everyone, especially when Decimo became the bearer of the said ring. Tsunayoshi Sawada and his guardians tried their best to uphold the real reason why Vongola was created in the first place. Vongola started as a vigilante group to protect the wronged and oppressed. It was a policy that Tsuna wanted to grow again inside the Famiglia that was corrupted by bloodshed and greed.
Vongola Decimo was an old man now but despite with the age of sixty he was still a great leader for his own Famiglia and the loyalty of his men was still solely for him. Lance remembered when his Father decided to form an alliance with the Vongola Famiglia.
Salazar has no clean track record themselves. They had their own fair share of torturing, mercenary acts, drug and weapon dealings, and murders. But still, Don Ernesto Salazar tried his best. He liked the policy of the Vongola and wanted to be a part of it. Don Ernesto, with the help of his brother, wanted to destroy the bloody caged that the Salazars found themselves trapped in. A bloody cage passed down from their own Father who came from the past leaders.
Don Ernesto attended a meeting inside the Vongola mansion, after that the Vongola Decimo, along with his Guardians, visited the Salazar’s mansion in return. It was a long discussion between a powerful Familia and a more powerful Famiglia. It came to the point where Don Ernesto let Decimo meets his three oldest children. That was the time also where little Lance was dared by his younger sister to sneak inside the meeting room.
Little Lance thought he was stealthy enough (as such the mentality of a child) but stopped in his tracks when a foot got in his way. He looked up from the ground where he was crawling and found a man with pretty funny curly sideburns. The man’s fedora cast a shadow on the half of his face but his right eye was visible enough. The man’s stare was unnerving but at the same time Lance found it interesting.
The two of them stared at each other for some time, the man leaning on the wall and Lance sitting patiently on the floor. Then the man grinned at him, crouched down on his level, and then ruffled Lance’s hair for a bit.
“Want to join the Vongola Famiglia?”
Lance puffed his cheeks like a squirrel gathering foods for winter. He pouted at the question directed at him and with all confidence that he could muster he said, “I’m a Salazar! We carry our name with pride!”
The man with curly sideburns merely laughed at his exclamation before standing up and started to walk away from him.
Little Lance forgot about the dare when his sorellastra*, Flyssa the fourth Salazar child, suddenly approached him and asked if he was okay. His older sister then told him that that man was dangerous. That he was commonly known with the name “Reborn” and considered as the number one hitman in the current history of mafia. This Reborn person also was the keeper of the Sun pacifier making him an Arcobaleno and thus one of the core members of the tri-ni-sette policy.
He was warned not to approach that man again alone.
A warning that was thrown out of the window the day after tomorrow when Decimo visited again and was only accompanied by Reborn, the both of them actively seek Lance and at first the older Salazar’s children was a bit dubious in letting one of their little siblings meet these powerful people but at the same time they knew that the Vongola’s had no ill will to them, yet.
Decimo asked Lance to play a board game that the old man brought with them. Little Lance agreed since he was bored by all the lessons he was taking from his private tutors. It was game called “Games of the Generals”. Lance immediately took a liking to it since it was exciting by the fact that you don’t know which piece was attacking which one. Victory would just be a surprise by the winner.
Lance won three out of two and Decimo chuckled nervously when Reborn aimed the barrel of the gun on the back of the Vongola’s head with a soft mutter of “You’re slipping”. Lance could care less about the interactions, he had seen far more weird things inside the Salazar Familia.
From that day, the alliance between the Salazar and Vongola was formed. As years passed, Lance realized that Vongola Decimo was fond of him. Of course it caused some vines of guilt to climb up his chest but it was also a relief that old man Vongola got his back as long as he would stay as a “good boy”.
And that was the reason he was now in front of Vongola Decimo and Reborn so early in the morning.
“I will not lie to you, my dear boy.” Old Man Tsuna started to speak and caused Lance to stiffen his back more than before, “You know there is no escape when it comes to being a Mafioso, right? Especially when you are related to it by blood.”
Of course Lance knew it. He knew he could never escape, not when his flesh and blood was made by the Salazar’s themselves. But he still want to spread his wings, his very own wings, he wanted to soar up in the sky without the help of his so called Familia. He wanted to explore what was outside of the Earth itself.
Lance heard the stories of long ago. On how Decimo vehemently tried to oppose the role being shoved deep in his throat, even if old man Tsuna already fought the enemies of the past, present, and future he still didn’t want to get on the Vongola throne. Things happened and old man Tsuna was only left by a single decision of fully accepting his position in the dark world or else his friends (guardians) would suffer the consequences of his selfish desire. It didn’t stop old man Tsuna to change Vongola from inside out though.
Lance was just standing there in the middle of the study room. His eyes staring straight on Vongola Decimo and he didn’t dare to look anywhere else. He wanted to make his decision be taken seriously. He wanted to have this chance.
Old man Tsuna sighed, “And yet you still want me to back you up in this plan of yours?”
“Yes.” Straight to the point, no flattering words.
“Why?” old man Tsuna leaned backward on his chair, “we have lots of private jets and ships, be it on water or in outer space. Your Familia alone is enough to provide you private lessons and your very own spacecraft.”
Lance took a deep breathe, “That’s the very reason, Vongola Decimo.”
Reborn and Tsuna both raised their eyebrows when Lance used the title instead of calling the other “old man Tsuna”.
“I…I don’t want to ride on my family’s name. I want to achieve this dream on my own. Just… give me ten years. That’s all I asked. Please?”
There was silence after that. For a few more minutes, Lance was ordered to wait on the common room of the mansion. Trying not to let his feeling of hopelessness leaked out, Lance heed the order and walked outside of the room they were currently on.
Marcello escorted him towards the common room. The both of them could feel it in the air that the Vongola mist guardians were observing all of their movements like a hawk ever since Lance got out of Decimo’s study room.
They waited for two hours, the sun was slowly illuminating the surroundings. Benita approached them and silently handed a cup of coffee towards Lance and hot chocolate for her twin. Marcello hated the taste of coffee and usually stick to chocolates, no one made fun of him about his taste anyway (lie, Benita would not let anyone call his twin childish just because he preferred sweets than the bitterness that coffee brings).
After two hours, Vongola’s Storm guardian came in to retrieve them with a message that Vongola Decimo and Master Reborn would accompany them on their return to the Salazar’s mansion. It was a journey spent with a stifling silence.
Their arrival back at home caused everyone to stop from whatever they were doing. It seemed that Lance’s siblings immediately assumed that he was kidnapped, with the exception of Halberd who was silently nursing a cup of their strongest coffee and an expression that he had totally gave up to hammer some sense to the rest of their brothers and sisters.
Halberd, the oldest Salazar child, escorted their guests towards Don Ernesto’s study area. To say that the Don was surprised was an understatement but he still welcomed both Vongola in his mansion.
Lance felt like he was waiting for his execution. He didn’t even managed to answer the questions of his siblings when they were ordered to stay away from the meeting between two mafia boss.
For five hours, Lance was just waiting in his room. He was sitting on his bed and he kept his fingers tapping on his knees in a rhythm he just made up on the spot. He suddenly stood up when Halberd knocked on his door and told him that he was being summoned by their Father.
When Lance saw that old man Tsuna was smiling at him softly yet a bit tired, Lance knew that his wish was finally granted.
Things were all great and dandy for a start.
“For goodness sake! He is just a newbie! A freshman! He is not a veteran soldier! Back off!”
Great in a sense that the first thing Lance did in the very first day of his student life at Garrison was to be listed on someone else shit list. Oh boy, he was sure that that Iverson guy would watched his every move from now on. Great, very great, Lance “McClain” Salazar. You just made a new hell for yourself.
Hey, at least he managed to help Hunk out of his panic attack! Lance just got the feeling that the two of them would be the very best of friends! And a panic attack and motion sickness after, Hunk’s fate as his best friend was sealed. At least there was one thing going right in his life at the Garrison.
Back at home, he was someone that has power and authority, but here, he’s a commoner who’s been the butt of the joke ever since he crashed and burned in one of their flight simulators designed for children. Lance knew that in choosing to walk away from being a Salazar and forging his own path, he will start from the bottom and work his way up. But dammit it’s hard! Especially when you’re competing with people who have been training for this their whole life!
Learning from books and tutors are far more different from learning first hand. Back in the comforts of his home, Lance can enjoy the leisurely pace he was in in learning about space, piloting an aircraft or spacecraft, physics, and all the topics covered in going to outer space; but here in the Garrison, it was different. The slow and careful pace that Lance was used to was suddenly replaced with deadlines and time constraints. Instead of reading and understanding the manual first, Lance was forced to figure things out as he goes. What makes things worse, the people in the Garrison has the sense of humor of an elephant stuck in a barrel on its way to Madagascar.
They don’t seem to get Lance’s witty banter during lectures, they even punish him for it. Every quip, every sarcastic response, every attempt at dry humor, Lance was silenced by a stern look and a disapproving frown. Growing up in a house full of mafiosos, one would be bored of the empty threats that each person in the household spews. In addition to that, Lance’s siblings are the sharpest people he knows, both with their blades and their wit, even Falcatta who prefers to act than to speak can shut people up with her words. So Lance had to keep up with their conversations to prove that he belonged and can participate in family matters. And for his talent of witty quips to be undermined and ridiculed are downright offensive.
The people at the Garrison assumed that he’ll eventually bend according to the Garrison’s standard, some even expected him to give up and drop out when one of the professors himself screamed at Lance right on his face, but the people back home would tell you otherwise (well they might shoot the person who screamed at Lance first and ask questions later; one does not simply insult a Salazar right on their face and expect no consequences). Every challenge the mafia world thrusted upon him, Lance made it his mission to overcome every single one of them. If people thought that he’ll simply keep his head down, they’re dead wrong.
Whenever the people at the Garrison scoff at his efforts whenever he was in the library, he kept his chin high and walked past them. Whenever a professor tried to one up on him by asking him a question they haven’t discussed yet, Lance answered with complete conviction and enjoyed the look of shock on their faces when he got the answer right. He memorized the schedules of the night security so he can sneak into the flight simulator to practice. Whenever people expected him to give up, he did his damndest to prove them wrong… and he enjoyed every second of it.
Lance was given the opportunity to lead a new life, to live a life that was his own. Sure, being a mafioso had its perks (power, money, influence), but nothing beats a life that you yourself built from the ground up. He may be sleeping a few hours less than he’s used to, skipped a few meals, gained a few callouses on his hand from gripping the controllers too tight, but it’s the life he chose, and he’s pretty damned satisfied with it.
Now? Not so much.
Iverson was speaking loudly at his face again. This close, Lance can see the veins popping on his forehead. He was so close that he can smell what he had for breakfast in addition to the spit that flew out of his mouth. Lance wanted to lean back and stand as far away from him as possible, but he was his commanding officer and his commanding officer haven’t ordered him to be at ease yet. Lance didn’t want to dig himself a deeper grave so he stood still and took it all.
“I hope I don’t need to remind you that the only reason you’re here is that the best pilot in your class had a discipline issue and flunked out-”
Mycroft finally found him passed out inside of a drug den, his body pale and limp against the thin mattress that had obviously seen better days. Is he- no, he can’t be, Mycroft told himself, refusing to believe that his younger brother could be anything but asleep. Hands trembling, he reached out to shake his shoulder gently. Too gentle. Sherlock wasn’t responding. Rougher then. Still nothing. “Come on, Sherlock, wake up. Let’s go home,” he whispered with an edge of desperation and panic.
The moonlight that drifted through the shattered window gave the entire room a melancholy atmosphere, and Mycroft could suddenly understand why Sherlock found his escape here in a gray room filled with empty bottles and emptier people. There was a bond to be made between people who were outcasts, people who were lost, and there was no judgment to be passed from people who were fighting their own demons and were aware of it.
The only place that Sherlock felt accepted was in a drug den. What did that say about his life? About his experience with people?
“Please, wake up,” Mycroft whispered through the tightness in his throat, vision blurring from tears. Against his will, fear coursed through him and he fished out his mobile, quickly calling for help and hanging up. “It’ll be okay, you’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay,” he reassured the sleeping teenager, wishing that he could make himself believe it as well. His chest ached as he heard the familiar sirens drawing near. “I’ll always be there for you. I promise.”
And he forced himself to be okay, at least until he knew that Sherlock was okay, until he was sure that Sherlock was alive and managed to pull through. Once again, Sherlock refused to die through sheer will. A strong lad, the doctors told him. He knew that, of course, he always knew that. Sherlock was strong, but Sherlock was also addicted to his own self destruction, and if he didn’t want to be saved, he wouldn’t be. It was simple as that, because Sherlock was one of the stubbornest and most intelligent people Mycroft knew and Mycroft knew people from every country.
If Sherlock didn’t want to be saved then Mycroft had no chance of saving him and that terrified him, that his younger brother could so easily pull away from his iron grip and slip away into the darkness, never to be pulled out.
“Make a list,” Mycroft said in his usual monotone, but he knew that they were both aware that he was begging. “Of everything you decide to put into your body. Who knows, seeing how the drugs reacted to one another might be useful for scientists someday. Granted, they likely won’t credit you if you’re dead, but you never know.”
Sherlock stared at him for a few long seconds, silent, the usual energy in his eyes faded and tired. You’re too young to be this tired, Sherlock. “I’m sorry, Myc.”
Myc? Mycroft looked around the hospital room quickly, making sure no one heard the nickname they’d agree to never use. “Are we back in gradeschool again, Sherlock?”
“Stop, just…” Sherlock exhaled loudly. “Stop.”
Mycroft’s heart fluttered for a second, wondering if Sherlock had seen through the act he’d put up and carefully kept alive for several years now. “Stop what?”
Sherlock gestured vaguely between them with the hand that didn’t have an IV, “this. This Iceman act. I know you, Mycroft, and you’re terrified, and I’m sorry.” He stopped, chest rising and falling quickly, eyes raking over Mycroft. “I know you work in the government and you have enemies who will likely target me if we show any type of brotherly bond in public. But we’re not in public now and I need you now.”
Mycroft swallowed. Once. Twice. “After the last time-”
He still saw the blood splattered over Sherlock’s face when he dreamt at night, his mind showing him in gory detail what would have happened if he’d come in just a minute too late.
Yet when he looked at Sherlock, who was still pale and gaunt from his latest relapse, he knew that Sherlock was right. He didn’t know how long he had left with his brother hell-bent on destroying himself to say the things he needed to say. He could have the rest of his life, he could have a day. Hesitantly, he embraced his baby brother.
His mind reminded him of the way he found Sherlock, unconscious and nearly dead, and he held him tighter, as if letting go would mean the same thing as planning a funeral. “Make a list,” he said finally, thanking every deity that existed that they managed to get through this one as well.
“I will,” Sherlock promised, nodding.
So! I made this yesterday while I was stuck in traffic for a few hours and the only thing playing were some old Sleeping With Sirens songs that I hadn’t listened to in a couple years. I don’t know why the fic ended up about Sherlock and Mycroft, but it felt right, so yeah. I was in a bit of a sad place, so I made this and gave myself feels. I’m still new at this whole fanart thing, so please excuse my art.
So I work at a WaySub about… 15 minutes from my house. I’ve worked there for about three or four weeks now. I’m the only closer for the store and so I need to be there a lot. Not to mention I’m married and have to work to pay off my bills and my rent and all that. My husband works as well but he’s self employed so it’s not as consistent money. I went from working a 9-4 job for 9.50 an hour. To inconsistent hours at a new job for 9.90. And now I’m working at WaySub for 8.90 an hour… I work like four times harder there as well and do all the closing tasks alone starting from 4pm to 10pm or later depending on how much needs to be done. I get like 34 hours a week, always do a consistent job, and I’m never late. My grandfather in law recently passed away and I told my managers in case I needed to take time off. I tell them yesterday (with almost 24 full hours of notice, which is acceptable since I need to tell them when I need time off as soon as possible once I know). So I tell them as soon as I know. Get a text from my manager the next morning (So Saturday morning) telling me he and his wife are going up north and so I have to MISS A RECEPTION FOR MY GRANDFATHER IN LAWS FUNERAL. I told them I couldn’t make work at all so they’d either have to fill my position for the night or just fire me because I wasn’t going to miss it. My husband loved his grandfather a lot and I wasn’t going to just attend work instead of being there for my family. Don’t you just love managers who’d rather go on vacation than let a hard worker take time off for a funeral.
Summary: You failed to run away from him and he kept you beside him until you forgave him and acted normal with him. However, your normal life with him takes a drastic turn when you’re kidnapped. And your family of two is becoming a family of three?
Summary: It’s finally the day of your wedding and it feels as though nothing could possibly ruin the day. You had planned this out for so long and for better or for worse, it turned out to be pretty memorable.
You sat quietly in front of the most beautiful, white vanity you had ever seen in your life. The sound of your heart pounding in your chest filled your ears while the rest of the room stayed silent. Your reflection showcased you confidently in the gorgeous wedding dress you took months to find, looking absolutely perfectly on your body. Perfect could have been used to describe a lot of things: Your venue, your guests, your husband willing performing for you in front of your entire family and friends to see, your relationship, the food, and even the atmosphere felt perfect.
Sure, you were nervous but wasn’t everyone before the big day? To calm your nerves a bit you inhaled a deep breathe before releasing it seconds later.
“Yeah, I can do this. Everyone does it….how hard could it be?” You spoke aloud to yourself out of sheer edginess.
Finally you stood up from the small stool you were sitting on and walked over to the big ballroom doors. You poked your head out just enough to find exactly who you were looking for. Jungkook stood in the hallway wearing a fitted, black suit that only complimented his perfect body. He looked so handsome standing there as he stared his phone, waiting for you to come out.
“Kookie!” you called out to him.
Jungkook snapped his head up from his phone, catching a glimpse of you, as he began to smile. You couldn’t help but giggle yourself as you stepped out from behind the doors.
“What do you think?” You teased, showing off your gown.
He looked speechless and shy. It was a surprise to you that after all these years he would still get like that, being as flustered as he was. Nothing seemed cuter to you than him trying to fidget his phone back into his pocket while still miraculously staring in awe.
“Y-You look amazing… ”
Your face perked up instantly at the compliment.
“You think so?”
Jungkook nodded, taking a second glance at everything, now with a smile of his own.
“Yeah. You’re beautiful.”
The two of you shared a moment when your eyes finally met and you felt almost as though you couldn’t look away. He looked so happy but sad at the same time, it was hard to place. The moment ended when you watched his smile fade from his cute face, watching as Jimin approached the two of you.
“How are you going to see my bride in her dress, first?” Jimin teased, beaming at you.
“Yeah Y/N. You should be more considerate to your future husband.” Jungkook added, attempting to play along but his voice didn’t sound the same.
You couldn’t stop looking over at him, worried, despite Jimin going on to tell you how excited he was. Jungkook was starting to avoid your eyes, only speaking to Jimin from then on until Jimin outwardly said,
“Well the ceremony is about to start so you better head out, okay? I’m sorry about everything and I hope it goes okay. Call me afterwards, we’re here for you.”
He grabbed your hand, holding it tightly before smiling at you.
“Both of us are here for you.”
Jungkook now looked at the both of you as a whole, giving a small nod.
“Wait, what? Where are you going? You aren’t staying?” You questioned, letting go of Jimin’s hand.
“Oh, well I have to go to a funeral. Normally I wouldn’t really go but I promise my mom since she’s pretty torn up about it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. Save some cake for me though.” Jungkook gave you one last smile, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Congrats you guys. Not everyone gets something like this.”
Jimin patted the back of Jungkook’s shoulder, giggling.
“Hey, don’t look so serious. It’s freaking me out. You’ll get married too. Now hurry up before you make me late to my own wedding.”
Jungkook grinned, waving goodbye to the both of you before turning out to leave the hallway. Something about watching him leave gave off a weird feeling that you couldn’t shake. He was off-putting but it made sense if he was leaving to go to something as depressing as a funeral. You just couldn’t imagine that it would bothering him like that, only knowing of one of his distant aunts had passed recently.
Jimin picked up your limp hand, bringing it to his lips as he kissed it gently.
“Are you ready?”
“I couldn’t be readier.” You chirped.
You took a final glance over at Jungkook’s now distant figure and for just a split second you saw his shoulders finch, watching his hand wipe away the evidence of his tears. Your eyes widened, not believing what you saw as Jimin pulled you along with him.
“Wait. I’ll be in there as soon as possible, okay? I’ll be right back.” assuring him before you ran off in the other direction.
You ran until the sound of your heels became prevalent and Jungkook turned around on his own to find you clutching at his hand. He look surprisingly down at you as you tried to speak up, out of breath from running down the hall. You scanned his face, seeing for your own eyes the proof of him crying. Your other hand brought its way up to his face, attempting to wipe his tears.
“Jungkook, you’re crying-”
He looked away from you, embarrassed, pulling his hand and head away.
“I’m fine. I already told you guys I had to leave. I’m sorry Y/N.”
“Please. Please, don’t lie to me. I want to be there for you even if it’s my wedding day. Everyone else can wait, Jungkook. Just talk to me I know it’s not the funeral.”
He stayed quiet but unlike his words he didn’t continue to leave, instead it looked like he was holding back from speaking. It wasn’t unusual for him to do this sort of thing but the timing was odd and only once before had you seen him cry in front of you.
“….Kookie, talk to me..You’re my best friend.” You begged, turning his head back in your direction.
His eyes flickered from the floor to instead instantly look into yours.
“…That’s what’s wrong. You’re my best friend.”
You were now the one with a confused look on your face, puzzled.
“So is Jimin. That’s why I can’t be here any longer because if I do the entire time I’ll keep wondering why that’s not me up there with you. I missed my chance and I know that but god, sometimes it’s hard to watch you two together. I want you guys to be happy so I meant it when I said it, congrats Y/N. I’m happy for you.” Jungkook meekly said.
You were dumbfounded and speechless even as his face escaped your grasp and he continued to leave. His figure disappeared behind the doors he came in from and no longer were you chasing after him. You full heartedly regretted asking because all the doubts you had about getting married were now fully laid out and freezing you up on the spot.
“All of those deaths! The long parade to the graveyard! Father! Mother! Margaret, that dreadful way! So big with it, it couldn’t be put in a coffin! But had to be burned like rubbish! You just came home in time for the funerals. Funerals are quiet, but death–not always. Sometimes their breathing is hoarse, and sometimes it rattles, and sometimes even they cry out to you, “Don’t let me go!” Even the old, sometimes, say, “Don’t let me go.” As if you were able to stop them! But funerals are quiet, with pretty flowers. And, oh, what gorgeous boxes they pack them away in! Unless you were there at the bed when they cried out, “Hold me!” you’d never suspect there was the struggle for breath and bleeding. You didn’t dream, but I saw! Saw! Saw! And now you sit there telling me with your eyes that I let the place go! How in hell do you think all that sickness and dying was paid for? Death is expensive, Miss Stella!. Why, the Grim Reaper had put up his tent on our doorstep!”
Gillian Anderson as Blanche Dubois in “A Streetcar named desire"
Request: Cheryl x fem reader imagine based on Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur ??
After Jason’s funeral you stayed with Cheryl.
You and Jason were the two most important people to Cheryl and she was a wreck now that he was gone.
You sat on the staircase holding her as she cried.
The night you met started replaying in the back of your mind.
It was your freshman year and the football team was throwing a party at Sweetwater River celebrating their first victory in a long time.
Music blared as you danced with your friends and suddenly time seemed to stop when Jason, the freshman who made it onto the varsity team, arrived with his sister.
She was the most beautiful girl you had ever seen.
“I met you in the dark and you lit me up, you made feel like I was enough. We danced the night away and we drank too much. Then you smiled over your shoulder and for a minute I was stone-cold sober,” you said rubbing circles on her back.
Cheryl pulled herself closer to you without saying a word.
“I knew I loved you then but you’d never know ‘cause I played it cool when I was scared of letting go,” you continued.
Cheryl seemed to stop crying and you could even see the faintest of smiles forming on her lips.
“I’m so in love with you and I hope you know, Darling your love is worth more than it’s weight in gold and I’m gonna love you till my lungs give out.”
“Y/N,” Cheryl said softly.
“Say you won’t let go,” she asked.
“I won’t let you go Cheryl,” you said kissing the top of her head.
A/N: So I heard that George Eacker was 27 when he had his duel with Phillip- a 19 year old?? Anyways, this one took a lot out of me because Phillip’s death was already so painful, and now I have to describe his emotions as well /cries. I really tried to capture Phillip’s depression in this short fic. If you need me I’m going to be locked up in my room for a few days.
“Why?” Phillip demanded. He was at the doorstep of Aaron Burr’s estate, his fists clenched by his side, and tears lining his eyes. “You’ve already denied me the right to see Y/N in her last moments, and now you won’t let me come to her funeral?!“
“Go home, son,” Aaron replied coldly.
“There’s no reason I should see you again.” He closed the door, and Phillip fell to his knees, tears freely falling from his face. Picking himself up, he walked sluggishly slow back home.
This oneshot is dedicated to my friend, @supercrossdisneykeeper , who recently lost her grandmother. My prayers and love go out to you and your family, and I hope this Newsies fluff helps you get through it. - K
Your mother had been gracious enough to let you go back to the Lodging House with the boys after the funeral. She understood your desire to not be at home, and you could not be more grateful.
The couch sinks down next to you, and you look over to see a gently-smiling Katherine. She hands you a mug of hot cocoa. “How are you feeling?” she asks.
“It’d hurt less if you punched me.”
The lack of snarky responses to that statement just adds to the mood of the hour. All of the boys are scattered in different places around the room, still dressed in their “Best” clothes. You can’t help but notice that some of their “best” clothes are the clothes they wear every day.
Jack sits on the arm of the chair on Katherine’s side of the couch, and Crutchie is squeezed in next to you. You know the boys would never admit it, but they always leave room for Crutchie to sit on the couch no matter what. That small thought makes your lips twitch up into a small smile briefly. You love your brothers.
It was a beautiful service at the church downtown. The boys sat in the furthest row back, which your father insisted on because they aren’t exactly properly dressed for a funeral. While you were a little miffed, you understood and was too upset by the situation at hand to argue. By the end of the service, you had already cried yourself out.
Spot was nice enough to come to the funeral, but he left shortly after to head back to Brooklyn. Davey and Les left too for family reasons, though they both wanted to stay behind so badly. Race, Romeo, Specs, and Buttons all sit against the wall across from you, and the other boys are scattered in various positions and places around the room.
Crutchie takes your hand softly, and you turn your head slightly to look at him. He smiles gently at you. “You know, she’s in Santa Fe now.”
You see Jack shift out of the corner of your eye as you frown. “What?”
“Santa Fe,” Crutchie repeats. He gets a far off look in his eye as he stares out the window. “Beautiful, green hills and a city of shining clay. That’s where all of us good folk go when we die.”
This time you see Katherine place her hand on top of Jack’s, so you turn to face them. A lone tear is slowly tracing its way down the Newsie leader’s cheek, and you’re momentarily shocked because you’ve never seen him cry before. But then he gives you a small smile and a nod, and you find yourself tearing up.
You knew the boys weren’t religious, except for Davey and Les, who are Jewish. But you do know that Santa Fe is Crutchie’s heaven.
You lean your head onto the younger boys shoulder as silent tears stream down your face. “I hope she is, Crutch. I hope she is.”