#last election i was able to put on my Okay Lets Get To Work hat on and feel positive about 'giving it a better go in three years time'

[llendrinall]

Can you elaborate on how much worse Percy’s break from the family would be? Also, the financial answer was brilliant.

(Referring to this ask)

Just like Cassandra, whose prophecies were never believed, Percy’s curse is that he sees things others don’t, he has clear-sight if not foresight, but when he acts upon them he makes a mess.

The reason the break with the family would be worse is that in this scenario Percy doesn’t have a motivation to return. In the books Percy is right to be suspicious of Harry, because it isn’t Harry speaking, it’s Dumbledore and Dumbledore does a lot of questionable things. It isn’t wrong to believe the (presumably democratically elected) government over the very powerful individual who, in the last war, had his own army. Only Dumbledore happens to be right about the danger, so Percy’s very reasonable doubts are invalidated. Stupid Percy, trusting the Ministry.

More importantly, Voldemort is a real and immediate danger and acting upon it is more important that debating who was right or wrong. This danger is what motivates Percy to go back, and also what motivates the Weasleys to accept his return.

Now, the money. With the money, there is no motivation for Percy to return. Once Percy is gone from the family, that’s it.

I want to be generous with the Weasleys, so I will say they are not greedy and they are not treating Charlie badly. Most likely they refuse Charlie’s money the first couple of times he offers it. But Charlie insists and the money will be for the kids, so…

Charlie doesn’t realize the pressure he is unwittingly accepting. Arthur still works, he is not a mooch, he won’t have his child support him. Still, Charlie becomes the main breadwinner of the family and his money brings a significant change to their way of life. This means that if Charlie’s money stops coming their quality of life will go down. That’s a lot of responsibility for a teenager.

Percy notices, even unconsciously, and tries to reduce the effect and influence Charlie’s money has on the family, for all of their sakes. But Percy is a Cassandra, so of course he blunders it. Instead of saying, “we can’t rely too much on Charlie because we are putting an unfair amount of pressure on him”, Percy says “No, you can’t buy a new broomstick,” “No, you don’t need that hat,” “We don’t need a new cauldron, we can use the old one just fine.” He is seen as a spoilsport and a killjoy. Even worse, Percy probably doesn’t realize they are not seeing his point, so he thinks they are just being greedy bastards taking advantage of his brother.

And, indeed, they don’t see his point. They don’t understand why Percy complains when they get tickets to the Quidditch Cup final, but later he accepts Charlies’ money and spends it on books or language lessons. For the family, it’s the same thing, they are spending the money in things they enjoy. For Percy, there is a huge difference because the books and the extra lessons are a tool of improvement so he can get his own job and be economically independent. It’s an investment. But does he explain it that way? No. He says they are important, and, of course, Percy’s things are important. Ours are not. Get lost, Percy.

Percy’s fight with the family happens earlier and it’s not because of the Ministry vs Dumbledore. It’s because he and his family have incompatible perspectives and the tension has reached a breaking point. (Maybe Charlie was worried about not earning a bonus because then they won’t be able to afford a family vacation to Egypt). At this point, if Percy can’t convince them that he is right, he can at least refuse to participate. He leaves the house, accepts a well paying job (and with his grades and extra skills, he can find a good job) and doesn’t look back.

He probably tries to pay Charlie back, because Percy feels it’s okay to take the money if it was a loan. Charlie is confused and slightly offended because, no, Percy, this was for you, for the family, to make your lives better. Percy insists. Charlie still doesn’t get it, but he at least understands that this is important to Percy. He relents and tells Percy to donate the money to a charity in Charlie’s name.

Percy donates to a sanctuary and a dragon reserve, because Charlie always liked dragons, and sets and equal amount of money apart so he can pick up the pieces when Charlie has a breakdown.

He hears the twins want to start their own company. In canon he wrote that extremely clumsy letter to Ron about choosing his friends, now he writes to the twins admonishing them about dropping from school. To Percy, it looks as if they are taking advantage of Charlie with a stupid business venture that is bound to fail. To the twins, it’s just Percy being a killjoy even when he is living away. At the next family gathering, the twins and Ginny fling mashed potatoes at Percy, staining his beautiful new suit that he had paid with his own money. Probably one of the first luxuries Percy had allowed himself, and only under the excuse that his appearance mattered for his job.

The family behaves as always. Molly chides them, but not really. Ron laughs. Bill laughs. Arthur laughs. Charlie smiles absent-mindedly and says nothing because he is worried about the second part of the season.

Percy gets up from the table, kisses his mother on the cheek and leaves.

And he stays gone. Sure, he takes part in the war and he worries about his family. He doesn’t return Molly’s sweater, he answers her letter, but there is a disconnection through all of it. He has given up on them. He doesn’t even bother going no contact, he just doesn’t care.

When Ginny graduates Hogwarts, he has a serious talk with Charlie. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like flying anymore, no, Charlie, it’s obvious. Charlie doesn’t confirm or deny, he simply says he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

Percy has a good sum set aside and he is an important donor to three animal charities. He sets an apprenticeship with all of them and convinces Charlie to take a year off “to rest his ankle”.

“My ankle is fine. And we… we can fly with an injured leg.”

“Your shoulder then.”

Hopefully, Charlie accepts and he can make a happy live for himself. Percy claims to be very busy with work and never goes home these days. If this ends in a bittersweet note, well, let’s imagine that Charlie breaks the inertia, takes the internship and is happy. His family will always comment about his surprising change of career, but he doesn’t visit home often either.

#ask #percy weasley #charlie weasley #hypothetical finances #textpost

[taxicabinmemphis]

Janus gets a snake!! Maybe it's a human au and his partner adopted it with him and they're living together, maybe someone gave him one as a surprise (this could be human or not. Maybe they just conjured it.) The possibilities are endless, but I need Janus with a snake

it is a common fact that I can’t write anything without two people being cute with each other so this is gonna be shippy

tw food, swearing

Janus picked up the box. It had a lot of minuscule holes in it and was sealed tightly with tape. Janus looked up at his best friend with a raised eyebrow, pulling his pocket knife out of his pocket and cutting the tape covering the box. He went to open the flaps, but a scarred hand met his elbow to halt his movements.

"Be careful, Snexy," Remus warned, "this birthday present moves."

Janus slowly turned back to the box, and as cautious and slow as ever, opened the flaps. His eyes widened and he flinched when a blur that looked like a large, bright yellow noodle flung itself his way.

Janus fell to the floor and slid away from his two-eyed, squiggly birthday present and into the wall behind him. His eyes widened as he realized he was cornered and was too distracted by the fear of being devoured by a yellow power cord to register the implications of Remus' wickedly delighted laughter.

He was only able to bring the pool noodle into focus when it crawled onto his left arm. He would have flinched at the boundary violation, but he was frozen in fear. When the longest piece of penne pasta stilled, he was able to see that he was much closer with the power cord analogy than the pool noodle. A somewhat small yellow snake a little more than twice the thickness of a power cord was coiled around his arm and was looking at him with dark brown eyes too innocent-looking to belong to a reptile.

Janus swallowed, his relief that it wasn’t anything he had a phobia of not showing too well on his face. He stared into the snake’s eyes, its innocence not preventing it from looking like it was gazing into the depths of Janus’ soul.

“You got me a snake.”

“Yep!” Remus exclaimed happily, laughter calming down. “One that is just like you! Small, yellow, and brown eyes.”

“Yes, Remus, my scales are definitely yellow. It’s not like they’re green or anything.” Janus rolled his eyes, electing not to comment on the “small” jab of Remus’ remark so as not to provoke him into a session of height-teasing.

“Irrelevant,” Remus dismissed, bounding towards them. “Do you like it?”

Janus bit his lip. “I will have to decide as we get to know each other better. Though, considering it was you who conjured it, my hopes aren’t too high.”

“Virgil and Roman helped me, actually. I mentioned my present idea to them and they didn’t want you to be stuck with an annoying snake or whatever, so they helped me to make sure the snake wouldn’t be too unbearable or disturbing.”

“How kind of them.”

Footsteps were heard descending the staircase, prompting the two dark sides to turn. Patton was standing at the bottom of the steps and looked as though he was trying to figure out what was going on.

“I got Janus a snake for his birthday!” Remus told him cheerily.

Patton visibly paled. “That’s...awesome, kiddo! I hope the opening of the present didn’t rattle Janus too badly.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Brilliant, Patton, truly. And no, I’m fine.”

Remus scoffed. “You’re on the floor like a-”

“Anyway,” Janus interrupted, getting to his feet, “what can we do for you, Patton?”

Patton shook his head. “I just heard the noise and came to check things out.”

Janus nodded and looked at his arm. Despite Janus standing up, the snake was still coiled around his arm and was now looking up at him.

“Does your snake have a name yet?” Patton asked excitedly, walking over to where Janus was but keeping a substantial distance.

Janus shook his head, indicating a negative. “Definitely. It’s not like I just got him or anything.”

Patton gasped, putting his hands over his mouth. “I’ve got it! Let’s name him Jake the Snake.”

“So my snake is just a tool for alliteration for you?”

Patton made a sound of offense. “I just think it’s cute.”

“And I seem like the type to give my snake such a name?”

Patton gave a small laugh and shook his head. “No, but it would be fun! It’s not like you have a better name.”

Janus narrowed his eyes playfully at Patton. “Watch me find one.”

---

Pamela the Snake had adjusted to Janus’ room nicely, for an atypical species of pet. While annoying at times (quite often), Janus had created an attachment to the yellow nuisance. The two serpentine figments of the imagination were now perfecting semi-telepathic communication.

(You see, Remus is this exhausting thing called “extra” about 784% of the time and told Janus that if they worked at it, he and Pamela could communicate through means of telepathy and minimal hissing.)

Janus didn’t like to trap Pamela in one place, and he could tell his snake felt similarly. So, Pamela slept in a terrarium, but either roamed around Janus’ room or coiled around his neck or limb(s) during the day.

‘Janusssssss, get a ssssnack.’

‘I’m working, Pamela. And dinner was two hours ago.’

‘Take a break. sssss.’

‘Fine.’

Janus stepped away from his laptop and sunk out of his room, Pamela coiled around his shoulder. He walked into the kitchen and was pleasantly surprised to see that the large bag of pretzels Virgil had opened earlier was not yet finished. He got a bowl from a cabinet and poured in some pretzels. He spotted Roman approaching from his peripheral vision.

Janus picked up his bowl of pretzels and greeted Roman with a half-smile.

“Greetings, Janus!” Roman said loudly.

“Hello.”

“Is Pamela with you? Should I greet them too?”

Janus nodded. “Pamela is on my shoulder.”

“Hi, Pamela!”

‘Hi, Roman. sss’

“They say hi.”

Roman grinned happily and went into the kitchen as Janus left it.

‘How is Remussssssssssss? I wanna sssssssay hi.’

‘He’s alright. We will see him for game night in fifteen minutes.’

‘Okay. sssss’

Janus diverted his focus from his conversation with Pamela to find Logan descending the staircase.

“Salutations, Janus.”

“Good evening, Logan.”

‘Hi, Logan. How hassssss your day been?’

‘Logan can’t hear you.’

‘But he can hear you. ssss’

“I hear your hissing. Is Pamela trying to say something?”

Janus sighed, annoyed at his snake. “Yes. They want to know how your day has been.”

At this, Pamela uncoiled from Janus’ shoulder and slithered on top of his hat. They then slithered as far off the hat and in Logan’s direction as they could, looking at him with expectant eyes.

Logan tilted his head up to meet Pamela’s gaze. “My day has been satisfactory, Pamela, and I hope yours has been similar.”

‘Ssss thank you, Logan.’

“They say thanks.”

Pamela leaned their head close to Janus’ ear.

‘Kissssssssss him.’

Janus’ mouth dropped. ‘What? What are you talking about?? No!’

‘You know you want to. ssss’

‘No, no I don’t!’

‘Why not? I told you to get a ssssnack. There’s one right here.’

Janus sputtered. ‘Many reasons!’

‘Pssssss Logan. Janusssssss wantssss to kissssss you.’

‘If you think I’m relaying that to him, you’ve got another thing coming, Pamela.’

Logan put a hand over his mouth, and Janus could see his eyes crinkle. Was he smiling?

“Does your snake have something to say to me, Janus?”

Janus huffed. “No. Not at all.”

‘I don’t, but you do. Ssssssso tell him.’

“I think that may be false.”

Janus put a hand to his forehead, looking at Logan through his fingers. He could now see from the way Logan’s eyes were alight and the hand that had moved a couple of inches away from his mouth so he could speak that Logan was indeed smiling. Janus swallowed, knowing his embarrassing conversation with his snake was almost definitely the reason for that.

‘Pretty Logan sssssmile.’

‘If you’re so keen on him then you kiss him.’

‘I’m a sssssssnake, you moron. ssss’

Janus groaned into his hand, trying to give Logan a look that could make him pity Janus and set him free from this conversation.

“Is Pamela troubling you, Janus?”

“Very much so. Would it be alright if I permanently relinquished care of them to you?”

‘Villain! sss’

“I don’t think Pamela would be fond of that idea.”

Janus rolled his eyes. “Maybe not. All the better; make them miserable.”

‘If you kissssssssed him you could ssssshare cussssstody.’

‘For the last time, I do not want to kiss Logan. I do not see him that way.’

‘Asssss your love would sssay, falssssssssehood.’

Janus wasn’t able to dignify that with a response because Logan took a few steps closer to the pair. He made eye contact with Pamela.

“You clearly have something to say. Is Janus unwilling to relay it to me?”

Pamela stuck their tongue out at Logan in a hiss and slithered their head up and down.

“Ah. Janus, you seem to be making Pamela,” he pulled out a flashcard, “angy. In order to properly deal with this, I would suggest telling me what they have to say so you can eat your pretzels without any disturbance.”

Putting Logan’s adorable flashcards and uses of modern slang that made Janus want to pepper kisses across his entire face aside, Janus was annoyed that this conversation had yet to be over. He, a master of deception, figured that it would be wise to craft a lie that would satisfy Logan and get him out of here.

“They’re offering you pretzels. I don’t want to give you any, though.”

‘Sss liar. sss’

Logan exhaled. “Well, that is very kind of you, Pamela. Since they are Janus’ pretzels and he wishes to keep them to himself, I think I will pass.”

“Great,” Janus said quickly.

‘Look how hot and ssssse-’

Janus’ face paled. “Bye!”

He raced past Logan and up the staircase.

---

Logan tapped his pen to his chin. Over the past week, he’d had several interactions with Janus and Pamela that occupied his mind, starting with the pretzel incident seven days before. Throughout these interactions, Pamela and Janus seemed to hiss angrily at each other, and Janus refused to translate. This worried Logan, and while at first he was fooled, he worried that something else was going on. After all, most of these interactions ended awkwardly and even the oblivious Logan could tell that Janus was trying to avoid him. While their interactions over the week needed two hands to number, that was over a seven day period and they lived in the same area. Logan had interacted with Roman probably thirty times or more in the past week. Logan could only count six with Janus.

More than that, Janus was clearly trying to cut their interactions short. One time when Janus had looked particularly uncomfortable, he straight-up ran out of the conversation without so much as a goodbye and didn’t even let himself be seen by Logan for the entirety of the following day. There was no other way to interpret his behavior except that he was ignoring him.

Not to mention, Pamela had been hissing in every single one.

Was the snake trying to convince Janus to insult him? Did Pamela know of malice Janus held for him that Logan didn’t?

Logan was startled from his thoughts when Virgil appeared in his room.

“Hey, dude. I can hear anxiety coming from here.” Virgil conjured a chair and dragged it to Logan’s desk, sitting beside him. He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his fist. “I rarely feel anxiety from you, so I thought I’d check things out. What’s up?”

“You have confused me, Virgil. I do not feel any anxiety,” Logan said genuinely.

Virgil made a noise communicating doubt. “I know I didn’t hear wrong. Here, how about you tell me what’s on your mind and I’ll see if I can spot any anxiety in your thoughts?”

Logan nodded. “That seems adequate. I do believe I may need another intelligent mind to help me make sense of these findings.”

Virgil bit his lip at the compliment. “I’m happy to help, L.”

Logan nodded and turned to face Virgil properly. “So, it’s about Janus.”

“Snake dude.”

“Yes. About a month ago, Remus gave him a snake, Pamela. Recently, Janus and Pamela have been communicating through telepathy via hissing that no one else can understand. This has been fine until about a week ago when they started hissing at each other anytime Janus and I would interact. The hissing seems to be angry on Janus’ part, he won’t translate for me, and he ends up ending the conversation awkwardly and then running off.”

Virgil frowned. “That’s weird. Maybe Pamela is insulting Janus or something?”

Logan shook his head. “I’ve heard and seen him interact with people like Patton with no trouble at all. Whenever Pamela hisses, he’ll translate, and that’s that. Unless you have had similar-”

“No. Whenever Pamela hisses when Janus and I are talking, he translates. We haven’t had any awkward interactions in a while since Janus is usually good at keeping things from getting awkward.”

Logan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Then what could they be saying?”

“Did you think of anything? If you tell me what you’ve brainstormed so far, I can tell you if any of those can be sources of anxiety.”

“Well, my first thought was that Pamela was trying to get Janus to insult me, or knew of concealed malice Janus held for me. Could that elicit anxiety?”

Virgil snorted. “Of course. Your brain is mistakenly telling you that Janus hates you.”

“It’s certainly a possibility,” Logan defended. “Considering how he has been ignoring me, it is a logical conclusion.”

“Yeah, but I think the more logical conclusion to make is that Pamela is saying something related to you that is making him uncomfortable in your presence.”

Logan frowned. “I don’t like that either.”

Virgil laughed. “Why not? That’s their problem. They’ll sort things out and things’ll be back to normal between you two. It has nothing to do with you.”

“But it does! The only person Pamela is saying those things around is me!”

Virgil’s movements halted. “You really care about this, don’t you?”

“What?” Logan asked. He shook his head. “Certainly not. I simply want to make sure I haven’t upset Janus in any-”

“Bullshit,” Virgil said in a sing-song tone. “You care. I don’t kno-ohhhhhhhh.”

Virgil adopted a shit-eating grin and leaned his head closer to Logan with a shake of his head, wondering how he didn’t come to this conclusion sooner.

“What?”

Virgil snickered. “You like him.”

Logan shrugged. “Sure. He is an intelligent and intriguing side who does his job as Deceit in an acceptably functional manner and we have conversations I would consider intellectually stimulating. He is a fellow side, a fri-”

“No. You like him.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That’s what I just confirmed, Virgil.”

Virgil sighed. “No. Like as in, you probably want to back him against a wall and kiss the living daylights out of him. Maybe watch romantic documentaries together? Have a debate littered with sexual tension that ends in a make-out session? All of that? None? I don’t know what smart people do when in love.”

Logan’s mouth fell open. He started to stumble out a response. “I- No...that is a blatant lie-”

Virgil shook his head firmly. “Nope. It isn’t. I’m shocked I didn’t see it before. Looking back, I see the way you’ve looked at him, laughed at unfunny things he says, and smiled at him for no reason at all. You’re in love~”

Logan stared at him for a few minutes with a blank expression. He then put his head in his hands. “Oh my god, I am, aren’t I?”

Virgil awkwardly patted his back. “It’s okay...but yes, you are.”

Logan groaned. “And he hates me.”

Virgil drew back. “What? No! Of course he doesn’t!”

“How would you know? His actions seem to be communicating that he does.”

Virgil pursed his lips, thinking. “If I see any sign of hatred, or lack thereof, in any of your conversations in the near future, I will tell you. Okay?”

Logan nodded.

“Okay. I’ll leave you to your pining, Logan.”

---

Pamela would not shut up around Logan, and frankly, Janus wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take. They were constantly hissing about how hot Janus must think he was (essspecially in that outfit, Janusss, that sshirt is making you go crazy, I’m ssssure of it), telling Janus to kiss him, among other things. Janus could not keep his cool around Logan and always had to leave. He knew he wouldn’t act on Pamela’s suggestions, but they still prompted embarrassment and a desire to escape Logan’s presence.

So, for the past week, he had been trying to ignore Logan as best he could. He predicted his typical meal times, breaks, and when he would normally get water based on observations he had made throughout their friendship (for totally not gay at all reasons) and tried his best to stay in his room during those times. Of course, there was margin for error and days where he wasn’t as adamant to escape Logan as others, but he managed to have a full week of having only six interactions with him.

Did Janus miss him? Maybe. Did Pamela miss Logan? Definitely. Did either of those facts matter? Not in the slightest. Janus was fine with only keeping constant contact with four of his five fellow sides. And things would’ve continued to be fine if it weren’t for fucking Pamela.

‘I wanna sssssee Logan, Janussss, go talk to him. ss’

‘Not unless you behave. We’ve already had thisss talk and you alwayss sssay ssomething out of line, even if you promisssed not to beforehand.’

‘But I wanna ssssee him, and sssssso do you.’

‘I do not!’

‘Yesssssss.’

‘How would you know, anyway, if I did?’

‘Caussse you’re not ssssubtle about it.’

‘I take great offenssse to that.’

‘You sssssshould.’

Janus grumbled out some incomprehensible nonsense, electing to get some dry cereal for a snack. Pamela wrapped themself around Janus’ neck and rested their head over Janus’ ear. Janus sunk out of his room and appeared at the bottom of the staircase, where he then made to the kitchen. He poured some dry cereal into a bowl and headed for the sofa, deciding to eat there.

About halfway through his bowl of grainy dryness, he spotted with terrified eyes, Logan walking down the staircase. He realized he didn’t check his list of times Logan was normally in the kitchen or living room, and that now was one of those times. He wondered bitterly if a part of him purposely forgot just so he could see Logan again, for the first time in twenty-eight hours.

‘Go talk to him. sss’

Janus opened his mouth to respond, but closed it and looked to his food when Logan’s head started to turn in his direction. Janus took another bite of his dry cereal, pretending like he didn’t notice Logan’s presence.

Janus heard footsteps making their way over to his spot.

‘I don’t think I’ll have a choice, Pam.’

The footsteps stopped. “Good afternoon, Janus.”

Janus looked up and plastered on a small smile.

‘Oh my gosssssh look at that outfit, Janusssssss, you must think he issss ssssso hot!’

“Hello, Logan.”

Janus turned back to his cereal to take another bite.

‘You’re a rude friend. ssss’

‘Bold of you to assssume I’m a friend.’

‘Logan deservesssss better.’

‘Indeed.’

Pamela angrily hissed at Janus.

“How has your day been, Janus?”

Janus looked back to Logan. “As well as a day can be with a snake hovering nearby all the time.”

Logan gave him an amused smile. “It can’t be too terrible. I’ve heard Patton say he would love having a pet that talked to him.”

“I think even he would get tired of Pamela.”

“That bad, hmm?”

Janus chuckled as another hiss sounded loudly in his left ear. “At times. They’re fine a lot of the time, but they’ve also been rather annoying over certain topics.”

“At least it’s not all the time.”

“It feels like it.”

‘Tell him you love him. ss’

‘I will not.’

Logan’s eyes finally spotted Pamela. “What’re they saying, if I may?”

“Nothing of importance.”

‘Are you kidding? I am the mossst important thing in your life right now, but it would be Logan if you weren’t a coward. ssss’

Logan frowned, noticing that no matter how stupid something was, Janus would always translate what Pamela was saying to him with any other person. “Are you sure? Pamela seems quite incessant.”

‘I am! Your boy isss quite attentive. ssss’

‘He’sss not my boy, nor is he a boy, conssssidering he is an adult. Sstop.’

“They are indeed being incessant. It doesn’t mean it is of any importance.”

‘I think you sssshould take him out on a date tonight. You’ve done all the work you need to already, and you need to make up for the rudenesssss you’re dissssplaying right now. ss’

Janus stood promptly, bowl in hand. “Thank you for your concern, Logan. However, I have a bunch of work left to do today, and I need to return to it.”

He started to sink out, but Logan’s hand clasped around his wrist and pulled him back up. He took the cereal from Janus’ hand and set it on the table. Janus looked at him with wide eyes.

“Apologies, Janus, I did not mean to catch you so off guard,” said Logan, noticing Janus’ shock. “However, you have been avoiding me.”

“Where did you get that from?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “I asked Virgil, and he said that he’s had normal, regular interactions with you over the past week. I can’t say I’ve seen you more than seven times.”

“Do you need to see me more often?” Janus asked.

“Um, well, no-” Logan stumbled. “But I was worried. Have I done something to offend you in any way? I sincerely apologize if I ha-”

“No, Logan, not at all,” Janus said, his voice suddenly softer. “You haven’t done anything of the sort and don’t need to apologize.”

‘Now look what you’ve done! He’ssss feeling guilty for no reassson, and it’ssss your fault. Maybe we sssshouldn’t be pursssuing him if you treat him like thisss.’

“Is Pamela saying something again?” Logan asked solemnly.

“Yeah,” Janus answered. “They’re chastising me.”

Logan snorted. “I can’t imagine what for. Either way, I want to know your reasons for ignoring me.”

Janus put a hand on his neck, brainstorming good lies.

“I don’t want you to lie to me. If you lie, we can’t sort things out.”

Janus sighed, dropping his hand. He instead pondered the pros and cons of telling Logan the truth, that Pamela was trying to matchmake them.

“Does Pamela know something you feel towards me that I don’t?”

‘I told you you’re not fucking sssubtle.’

‘Who taught you sswear words???’

‘Remusssss.’

“Do you hate me?”

Janus was startled out of his conversation with Pamela at those words. He opened his mouth to respond but he was at a loss. He didn’t understand how Logan could ever think he hated him. Where did he go wrong?

“Ah. I see you are unwilling to respond. You don’t need to figuratively sugarcoat anything. I was simply curious. The improvement of our communication with each other depends on our understanding and sharing of the opinions we have regarding each other. Only then can we work together properly. I don’t mind. This will be good, so we no longer have any questions-”

Janus was too busy being worried over the future of his friendship with Logan to appreciate how cute he was when rambling. “I honestly don’t know know if you’re blind, insecure, and/or deaf but everything you’ve said in the past two minutes has been baseless and wrong.”

Logan stopped short, looking at Janus like a deer in headlights.

“...What?”

“You heard me. What, in all of our interactions, makes you think I hate you?”

“I...”

“I’m talking with Virgil more than I’m talking to you. Do you know how much Virgil and I used to hate each other, how much shit we’ve gone through? Yet, he and I are still talking normally. You really think that I hate you?”

“It was the logical conclusion from the facts at hand-”

“You were jumping to a conclusion based on cognitive distortions-”

“I resent that!”

Janus stopped to look at Logan’s face. He looked so indignant, impulsive, and so so very confused. Janus didn’t need Pamela for there to be a voice telling him to kiss Logan in that moment. Janus needed to approach this with more care than he was in the present. Logan had clearly been caught up about this.

“This is bothering you, huh?”

“I want our working relationship to be as functional as possible.”

Janus laughed with no humor, shaking his head. “No.” He exhaled. “You want me to tell you, Logan?”

Logan nodded.

Janus put a gloved hand on Logan’s shoulder and gently pushed him to sit on the sofa. Janus sat next to him.

He closed his eyes. “This will negatively affect our working relationship.”

“I imagine so, considering my conclusion came to be quite negative.”

“Not for that reason,” said Janus. “Pamela can read me like a picture book for infants. I do have feelings for you that you are unaware of. Pamela has been harassing me over it. Every time you and I have a conversation, they always implore me to do something that would ultimately end our friendship.”

“Pamela hates me?”

Janus shook his head, repressing a scoff at Logan’s obliviousness. “They always remind me of my desire to be in a romantic relationship with you and try to get me to act on that wish. The result is me feeling a bit...awkward. So, I leave.”

Logan’s lips parted. He didn’t respond for a couple of minutes.

Janus swallowed and nodded. He rose from the sofa and made to sink out. “It was nice being your friend, Logan, you’re a wond-”

Janus didn’t notice that Logan’s hand was still on his wrist. It was, and it tightened around his wrist for the second time in this interaction, stopping Janus from leaving. Logan turned his head to meet Janus’ eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you were able to feel the same.”

It was Janus’ turn to be taken by surprise. He searched Logan’s gaze for a lie, but he could see nor sense none. His hand covered his mouth and he sat back down.

Logan seemed to adjust to the new information, no longer being the one caught by surprise. He moved his free hand to the human side of Janus’ face, taking his hand from his mouth.

Logan made no move to hide that his gaze was fixated on Janus’ lips. “And the methods of acting on these feelings you have been encouraged to engage in...”

Janus caught his lips in a kiss. Logan kissed back, dropping Janus’ wrist to rest a hand on his scales, the other going around his waist.

They pulled apart after a minute, both of them smiling.

‘My work here isss done.’

‘Don’t you dare think you’re ever leaving my cussstody.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

Logan chuckled. “What is it?” He brushed a lock of Janus’ hair behind his ear.

“They’re happy for us.”

~

Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @merlinfreya27

~

Thanks for the prompt! I really loved writing this and there isn’t enough Loceit anywhere. I know this was probably supposed to be snake-fixated but I really liked the idea of the snake making Janus get his act together and kiss the boy. I hope you liked it!

#loceit #ts fanfic #sanders sides #janus sanders #logan sanders #romantic loceit #pamela the snake #fic #prompt #somehow-i-got-an-account #ts janus #ts logan #swearing tw #food tw #kill writes #sanders sides fanfic

[mudhornchronicles]

dreamboat | greaser!frankie morales | part two

diner cred to @thatretrobitch​

pairing: francisco “catfish” morales x reader; 1950’s greaser!frankie x reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, ya know… 1950s stuff + death and war, and being rude af

a/n: part two of dreamboat

masterlist

dreamboat: part one | part two

“If I didn’t know any better, Francisco, I’d say you were teacher in a past life.” You look up at him and smirk. He looks over to you and gives you a crooked smile. He adjusts his jacket and runs his left hand through his hair.

Frankie taught you a lot more history than the teacher. Frankie had a lot more patience and explained each topic that was covered in much better detail and simply enough to understand. Like when Hattie Wyatt Caraway of Arkansas became the first woman elected to the U.S. Senate in 1932 to fill the vacancy caused by the death of her husband. Frankie compared it to the demonstration of the first long distance telephone service between New York and San Francisco in 1913 – surprising but needed.

You didn’t have Frankie for a third period, just first and fourth, but he made sure to meet you out each of your classes and walked you over to your next class. He had conversed with the boys about asking you to Rosie’s Diner on Friday night. Everyone knows when a guy takes a little darlin’ down to Rosie’s, she’s unavailable. Frankie knows you probably don’t know what going to the diner with him means but he assumes if you did, you wouldn’t go. So he decides that the less you knew the better – well at least that’s what Tom decided.

“Ya know, doll. I like the way you say my name, but how ‘bout ya just call me Frankie, huh? I don’t use the entire thing anymore.”

You cock your head to the side and your smiles turns into a slight frown. “Do you not like the way Francisco sounds?”

He tucks his hands into his jean pockets, shrugs, and looks down at his dirty Chuck Taylors. “Thanks, I do like it, but it don’t… it don’t sound cool, you know? I got a reputation to keep up – all the guys do.”

Frankie stopped using the name Francisco at the start of freshman year. Pope stopped using Santiago around the same time. Their teachers would call them Francis and Saint because they found it difficult to pronounce the boys’ names correctly. Frankie was too shy to say anything and Pope was still unsure about his accented English, so when Will laughed and told the teacher, “Ain’t that a bite? You got a degree, but can’t pronounce an ABC name,” the boys knew Will was going to be a great friend. The boys thought that would be the end of it, but then Benny decided to join his brother and say, “How ‘bout, since ya feel so high and mighty, you call ‘em Frankie and Pope? We got Francisco like that city on the west coast, so call ‘em Frankie. Then we got Santiago. You wanna call ‘em Saint, then give ‘em the highest honor.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” you stopped walking and placed a hand on his arm. “I like your name. I think it suits you very well.”

He smiles and nods. He doesn’t know if he’s nodding because he’s convincing himself he likes it too or if he’s nodding because he’s glad you like it too. He liked your company because you weren’t too invasive, but he could also tell that you wanted to get to know him. He knew he wasn’t the most open to people, he has his father to thank for that.

As young 19-year-old – about a year older than Frankie – his father was drafted and fought in World War 1 in 1918 as a US Army soldier and was then sent off to France a few weeks in to fight with the AEF, the American Expeditionary Forces. Because of this, Frankie’s father wasn’t the most expressive when in public but was easily the most caring when it came to his family. When Frankie was growing up, his father had spoiled his baby boy and made sure he worked hard as a welder so that Frankie wouldn’t want for anything. Frankie remembers his father coming home from work late at night, oil and bits of metal stuck to him, and always turning his frown into a smile when he laid eyes upon his son.

His father’s closure to the world only grew when he saw his family in danger. Frankie figured that by growing up within a military family, it would lead to him serving in the military as his father did before him. When Frankie was coming to the age of enlistment, he told his family about him wanting to go off to the military, but his father was very much against it. All his father wanted for his son was for Frankie to live his life the way he wanted to, so Frankie didn’t enlist. One day when Frankie was at school, recruiters came to the Morales home and were knocking the door down. Frankie’s father had informed them that his son would not be serving. He was told that because Frankie was able, male, and was soon to be of age, he had to enlist whether he was needed or not. His father complied; except he wrote his own name down instead of his son’s.

His father never regretted going to war. He still had nightmares, which Frankie knew all too well. He had met Frankie’s mother when he came back home in 1921 and after years of trying, he was blessed with a son in 1935. All was good in the world until the year 1950 – Frankie was 15 years old. In August of 1950, a letter came in the post reading the following:

SIR: FRANCISCO MORALES SR.

You are hereby notified that you, on the 21 day of August of 1950, have been legally drafted in the service to the Armed Forces of the United States of America. You are to report to the Armed Forces station below and will be transported to Daejeon, Korea.

Frankie’s father never came back.

His body was never recovered – just his ID tags. Frankie’s mother was told that the last transmission received with the whereabouts of Francisco Morales Sr. were near the Nakdong River in South Korea. Frankie always carried his father’s ID tags around his neck no matter where he went. Those tags always reassured him of himself knowing that he was doing what his father wanted him to do.

Frankie walked you down the steps of school building and stopped at the sidewalk. “Ya know, if ya need a ride, I can take ya home – aint no trouble.”

You smile and shake your head. “I appreciate that. I told my mother I’d take the bus back home.” You knew your mother would have a fit if she saw you get dropped off by a boy, but she may still be at work. You looked back at Frankie and saw that he had a slight frown on his face as he played with a necklace hidden in his white t-shirt. You weren’t sure the reason behind it, but he didn’t want to pry. “Actually, I’ll take a ride.”

His eyes lit up and nodded. “Great but I do gotta warn ya, doll. I gotta take Ironhead and Benny back to their place. Pope usually goes back to mines.” A ride home in a car full of teenage boys – what can go wrong?

The pair of you walk down to the school’s parking lot and there you see students laughing in their cars – 4 to 5 in a car – all while having a smoke and others are drinking from beer cans. You have no doubt that it’s beer cans when one gets tossed towards you with left over beer splattering over your white skirt. Frankie takes notice of the yellow stains and the grimace growing on your face. He looks over at the teenagers in a beat-up Chevy.

“Aye watch where ya tossin’ shit, birdbrain.” The teens look over at Frankie and walk over to him. You place a hand on his arm and look up at him.

“Frankie, c’mon. Let’s just go to your car, huh?” you plead. His arm tightens and as the teens arrive in front of him, Frankie protectively put you behind him and adjusts his jacket – a tick of his you’ve taken note of. The three boys who walked over to Frankie look over at you and smirk.

“Well shit Frankie, pal.” One of them takes a smoke and blows the out towards his side. “You already smashin’ up this little new betty? Don’t you work fast… first Michelle, then Tiffany, now this one?”

Frankie’s jaw tightens and his hold on your arm shifts. “How ‘bout you stuff it, Jack? You know you ain’t even supposed to be here. This ain’t your turf.”

Jack removes his hat, a cowboy hat he’s become fond of, and fixes his hair. He puts it back on and laughs. “You’re right, but I clearly don’t care. Oberyn ain’t out the can ‘till Friday, so I call the shots. My boys wanna be here and screw all these chick-a-dees, then they will. I know you ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

“He will,” you hear a click and quickly turn your head to see Pope and the boys, Benny holding up a pocketknife. “But he ain’t doin’ it alone either.” The Bandits circle the three men and puff up their chests.

“Alright,” Jack holds his hands up. “We’re gone but trust me when I say that Oberyn ain’t gon’ be too happy to hear this.” With that he snaps his head over to his boys directing them back to their car. They turn to leave and Jack walks away backwards. When he’s satisfied with the distance between himself and The Bandits, he turns on his heel and runs to his car. He jumps in the driver’s seat, gives his girl a smooch, and revs the engine – with that he’s gone.

Pope looks at you and gives your shoulder a quick squeeze. “You good? Hope those bumrats ain’t spook ya too bad.” You shake your head and smile shyly. You look down at your ruined skirt and shrug.

“Just a ruined skirt but that’s okay. I wasn’t fond of it.” Will laughs at your comment fluffs yours skirt from the bottom, earning a nudge from Frankie.

“Let’s get her home, huh? I gotta drop off everyone else,” Frankie says. Tom tells Frankie that he’s got detention and to go on without him. Tom goes back towards the building while everyone piles up in Frankie’s Cherry Red 1945 Mustang GT – his father’s gift to him for his 15th birthday, also his last gift.

Per usual, Benny and Will leans the driver’s seat forwards and get in to sit in the back while Pope goes to sit in his usual spot as shotgun. Frankie tuts at Pope and points to the back. Pope scoffs but shoots Frankie a wink. He gets in and sits in between the brothers, being the smallest of the three, and Frankie runs over to open the door for you to sit up front. He grabs your books and hands them to Pope. As you situate yourself and buckle your seatbelt, Frankie gets in and turns on his baby. He revvs the engine and backs up out the school’s parking garage, but not before revving his engine one more time for the freshmen per Benny’s request.

On the drive to the brother’s house, Benny grabs your notebook and looks through your notes of the day. He looks through the math notes you took during 4th period and immediately closes it. “You sure are smart if you’re taking this angle stuff. I’m guessing it’s college prep?”

You look over your shoulder and nod. “I’m currently taking college preparatory trigonometry. They unfortunately didn’t have any other advanced placement for me here.”

The boys let out a harmony of “ohs” and Will shakes Frankie’s shoulder. “Frankie! She’s smart like you, buddy!”

Pope smirks and joins in on the teasing. “Lo vez, hermano! Being smart doesn’t make you un-cool. Being you does! No te hagas ver como el tonto porque no lo eres.”

You see, brother… don’t make yourself seem dumb because you aren’t.

You look at Pope and smile. “I agree with you, Santiago. Frankie is very intelligent so he shouldn’tdumb himself down because he thinks that’s what people think of him.” Pope stops and looks at you. “You know some Spanish, angel face?” You eagerly nod. “I’m very familiar with the language. They had us choose electives at my old school. I took Spanish, Italian, and French. I had a lot of a free time.”

Pope looks at you in shock but happily hollers. “Well sugar you sound pretty good speakin’ ‘em”

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt giddy. You felt happy to be around the boys and you knew you wanted to continue to be around them.

With Frankie getting out of the car and moving his seat forward, Will and Benny get dropped off first, but not without teasing him about “asking the chick.” Frankie flips them off and Pope lets out a belly laugh. Frankie apologetically looks at you and mouths sorry. You blush and mouth that’s okay.

Once leaving the brothers, Pope tells Frankie to turn up the radio. Frankie looks at Pope through the rearview mirror and narrows his eyes. “Switch to 12,” Pope says with a wink. Frankie rolls his eyes and turns the knob so the needle hits channel 12. Once Frankie hears the recognizable melody from “Takes Two to Tango” by Pearl Bailey. Frankie goes to switch the channel, but you stop his hand. He glances over to you and he sees you mouthing the words. He looks back at Pope who wiggles his eyebrows and sings out loud and to Frankie’s surprise, you join Pope singing at the top of your lungs. He laughs at your attempts at dancing in your seat and looks back at Pope who was waving his hands in the air.

Frankie thought that you’d be this proper, shy little thing but here you were having singing and laughing with his best friend. You gave him the slightest nudge and smiled in his direction. “C’mon Frankie. Don’t be a sour puss. I know you know this song!” You were right. He did know this song. He and Pope sang it so much because Pope thought he could woo some girl – he didn’t really know what the lyrics meant so you can guess what happened. If you guessed he slept with her… you’d be correct.

You poked Frankie in the ribs light enough to not affect his driving and giggled as he sang out with Pope. You liked seeing this Frankie – not that big tough guy you saw at the parking lot. He seemed like he had a big heart but was scared to show it and you were determined, but you were ripped away from your internal planning when Frankie politely asked for your address.

“It’s a shame you ain’t hangin’ longer sweetheart,” Pope began. “I think you’d like being around us two mucks. You would definitely like Frankie’s mom’s cooking. She makes the best food in town.” You smiled as the two best friends bickered about whose mom had the best food.

“I would have loved to, but I have to be home and do chores before my mother gets home.”

Frankie looks over to you and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. Maybe next time, cool?” You smile at the invitation and nod. Frankie continues to drive as you and Pope make a conversation about the possibility of you tutoring him in math. With them being high school seniors, they are not failing one class.

You feel on top of the world, laughing and talking with your new friends, until you spot the yellow Pontiac in the driveway and your mother coming out of it. Your face drops and the boys immediately take notice.

“What’s wrong?” Frankie asks. You straighten out your top and ask Pope for your books as you ready yourself to run out of the car. You look at Frankie and offer a weak smile.

“My mother won’t be happy with me is all.” You’d ask Frankie to drop you off a couple of houses before your own, but you know your mother has already seen you. As Frankie pulls up to your house, the boys’ jaws drop. You wouldn’t say your house was big, but to the boys, it was huge. Your two-story home consisted of 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms. The exterior of the home was beige with dark brown trimming and the river rock pathway leading up to your home was lined with grass so green you’d think it was plastic.

Your mother, dressed to the nines in a pale pink dress and white belt, looks at the hot rod parked in front of her home and places her hands on her hips as she sees Frankie run out and open your door. Your mother would normally love seeing her daughter be treated by a gentleman, but she isn’t very happy to see that it’s Frankie. She has always dreamed of her daughter being courted by a young man in polished Oxford shoes and ironed pleated pants not a worn out leather jacket and dirty chucks.

You thank Frankie for the ride and look over at your upset mother. The boys say hello to her as she gives them the ungenuine smile of hers you have seen many times. You wave goodbye to both boys and begin to walk up to your mother. You hear whispers behind you and then you hear your mother say, “Is there something else you’d like to say, boy?”

You turn and you see Pope shove Frankie towards you. His face turns red as he sees your mother staring him down and he knows that this may not be the best time to ask you.

“On with it, young man. My daughter and I have work to do.”

Frankie once again runs his hand through his hair and clears his throat. “I- I, uh, I was wonderin’ if ya wanted to hang with us at Rosie’s on Friday. The shakes are pretty good so we could ma-“

“What’s your name, young man?” You look at your mother. You narrow your eyes at her for interrupting Frankie.

“It-It’s Frankie,” he stutters, “my name’s Frankie, ma’am.”

Your mother gives her less than friendly smile again. “Well, Frankie, you’ll understand where I’m coming from when I tell you this – you are not the kind of person I want my daughter befriending. You just don’t quite… how can I put this nicely? You don’t fit a mother’s standards.”

“Mother!”

“Quiet.” she tells you. “You will not be around these boys again, do you understand? Your father works too hard for you to just ruin your life like this. You asked to be taken out of the pristine private school we paid for you to go to and we allowed you to enroll in public school. Why are you bringing home some… some hoodlum! How can you do this to us?”

You wished this had surprised you, but it wasn’t the first time your mother disrespected your choice of friends. You huffed and you felt tears coming to your eyes as you saw Frankie’s defeated look in his eyes and Pope fighting the urge to get out of the car.

You mother calls your name, and you turn to look at her. She walks to you, heels clicking the pavement, and cups your jaw. “You will not associate yourself with these boys, do we understand each other?” You see Frankie nod to you and walk back to his car. You look back at your mother and nod. “Yes, Mother. I understand.” Your mother smiles at you and gives your cheek a pat. “Good girl. Now… get inside and put that skirt in the hamper. Your allowance is going towards a new skirt.”

She leads you into the house and you look back and see Frankie’s car is still there. You stop in your tracks and look at your mother. “Mother, may I please run back and grab a paper I left?”

“Is it school related?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Go grab it and say goodbye and come back in. We have to get dinner going.” You nod and run back to the car and your mother walks into the house.

Pope rolls down the passenger side window and both boys look at you. You smile at Pope and look at Frankie.

“Does Rosie’s Diner have sundaes?” Pope smirks and turns to Frankie while Frankie nods with a confused face. “Well,” you start, “If Friday’s invitation is still open, pick me up by the green house down the street at 6pm. She’ll be going to my grandmother’s house up north.”

“Sounds like a plan, doll.”

The light breeze surprises you as it picks up the more you walk down the street. You walk past two houses and you see the red backlights of the cherry red mustang you seemed to miss.

Your mother, thankfully, left to your grandmother’s home about two hours ago, much earlier than expected. She called not very long ago to make sure you were home and doing homework. You told her that you were planning to retire early as your homework began to give you a headache. She insisted you eat dinner and sleep as she didn’t want to see eyebags under your eyes when she got back tomorrow. She bid you goodnight and said she’d be home by tomorrow’s lunchtime. Once you hung the phone on the hook, you ran to your room and began to ready yourself for the night.

You grew giddy as 6 o’clock crept closer and closer. You had applied your blush and mascara so carefully you’d have thought you were dusting the finest of china. You did not want to wear too much makeup; you didn’t want to seem as though you were trying too hard. You picked out the pins out of the curls on your head you’d put up right when your mother left and watched as the soft and tight curls fell and framed your face. You grabbed your wide tooth comb and brushed the curls out, parting your side at a side so there was more hair and volume on one side. You sprayed a tight hold hairspray all over so you could make sure your hair stood – Frankie wouldn’t want to see frazzled hair, no man would, you thought.

As you went through your closet, you decided that a dress was the best choice as it was simple enough to either be dressed up or dressed down. You went with a white collared black dress with thin white windowpane patterned lines all over. You wore your black flats and added a black shiny belt running across the waist. You get closer to Frankie’s car and you see him get out of his car – you figured he had seen you coming.

“How ya doin’ there, doll?”

“Hello, Frankie.” You wave and get closer to him. Once you’re in front of him you fix his jacket lapel and look up at him. “Aren’t you sight for sworn eyes.”

His eyes widen then starts laughing loudly and your face goes red. He nearly falls in laughter as his hands catch himself on his knees. “W-What’d ya just say?”

“I said aren’t you a sight for sworn eyes,” you frown. “Is that not appropriate?”

He catches his breath and puts a hand on his belly. He reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear with the other hand. “The saying is a sight for sore eyes, doll; not sworn eyes.”

You feel as if your face is about to burst as you start laughing at yourself. You just cannot believe you’ve messed up your first attempt at flirting with Frankie. “I was really sure it was sworn.”

He smiles brightly and shakes his head. “Hey… can’t say ya ain’t tried right?” You giggle and nod. He look you up and down and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Te vez hermosa.” You look beautiful.

Have you ever had that feeling when there’s a puppy trying to get comfortable, but it can’t so it walks over to you and lays with you – falling into a deep and peaceful sleep? You know how it makes your heart feel as if it’s grown twice in size because the puppy chose you and trusted you to protect it while it slept? That’s how you felt when those words came out of Frankie’s mouth.

“Muchas gracias, Francisco.” Thank you very much, Francisco.

He playfully rolls his eyes at you and lets out a laugh. He points to the car and says, “get in the damn car.” He runs over to your door and lets you in, as per usual, and off you two went to Rosie’s Diner.

Frankie leads you into a bright neon-lit diner not very far from your home, about 25 minutes from your place. The diner stands out from the black concrete parking lot and pine trees decorating its background. He opens the light brown doors and places a hand on your lower back as you walk in – not too low or too high.

“Howdy’ho kiddos.” You’re greeted by a woman in her late 40’s or early 50s – the grey hair and sweet smile give it away. “Hey there, Frankie. Bandits meetin’ ya here?”

Frankie smiles at the woman, gives her a hug, and a quick kiss on the cheek; a kiss she smiles at and hums in content. “Hey Ro. Boys are comin’ in a while. You know they ain’t missin’ your special tonight.”

“There’s a special night every night for my favorite bandits, Frankie. Who’s this, huh? You finally bringin’ a girl for me to meet?” Frankie shakes his head from side to side smiling. He turns to you and introduces you to Rosie, the diner’s owner and one of his favorite people. “She’s new in town and I wanted to show her the best diner in the world.”

Rosie slaps Frankie’s arm and laughs. “Stop talkin’ sweet ‘fore your teeth rot, boy. You’re too pretty to be all gums now. I knew my boys were comin; your usual booth’s open, but take the table next to it, yeah. Ya need the extra seat ‘less you sittin’ the girl on ya lap.” Frankie begins to stutter a protest as you stifle a laugh.

“It’s very nice to meet you Miss Rosie. I’m in awe of your diner and excited to try your food.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet the girl who Frankie finally decided to bring to the diner. It’s a very special moment in his life ya know?” You cock your head to the side and take a quick glance at Frankie.

“Why’s that, Miss Rosie?”

As Rosie was about to explain the beginning of courtships of 99% of the teenagers in town, Frankie dragged you away with the dramatic excuse of being so hungry he can eat a horse and how he’ll drop dead if he doesn’t get a shake.

As you make it to the table Rosie had sent you to, you’d think that Frankie would have pulled out your chair, but a couple of some teens you remember seeing at school look in yours and Frankie’s direction whispering among themselves. You took a seat and looked at Frankie to ask if he knew them but as you were about to ask, you saw his face looking back at them with a deep stare. He gave them a single nod towards the door and to your surprise, they ran. Frankie scanned the room and he knew everyone would be taking in the scene. Frankie had never taken a girl out in public – especially not a girl like you. Sure people knew about other girls he’s been with, but everyone knew they weren’t together.

Frankie sat down after everyone in the diner turned their attention back to where it previously was and he passes you a diner menu, but still tense due to the eyes that locked with his back once more.

When the waitress you learned was named Vi and was obsessed with Will, Frankie had ordered a basket of fries for the two to share, a cherry soda for him and a sundae of your pick for you. Vi was also an older woman, best friends with Rosie, and had an innocent crush on Will’s blonde self. Frankie told you about the time Will brought Vi a bouquet of flowers for her birthday and Vi almost attacked the poor kid to the ground with kisses. Vi was sweet and she made you feel very good about yourself as she fixed your collar and fluffed your hair because “her Frankie needs to see what he’s got in front of him.”

You were nearly done with your sundae as you heard the distinctive pitch that is Benny’s voice as he said “What’s cookin’ good lookin’ don’t you look like a dream,” and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You greet each and every one of the boys as they take their seats around the table – Benny calling dibs on one of the seats next to you. Benny puts his arm around the back rest of your white chair and calls Vi over to place a new order.

As the night continues, you feel free. You feel so relaxed and at ease with the boys around you that you don’t even notice the dirty looks some girls were giving you. Benny puts his head on your shoulder and give his cheek a little pat resulting in Benny playfully trying to bite your hand. Frankie clears his throat and Benny looks over at him and smirks.

“I ain’t trynna steal ya girl, Frankie. If she hangin’ with us, ya gotta get used to us playin ‘round.”

Frankie turns red as Benny calls you “his girl” and rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He looks out the window and immediately tenses. You follow his gaze and see a 1942 black Ford with some boys in it – one of the being that Jack guy from school – revv its engine as it speeds back and forth through the parking lot. He grabs the boys eyes and directs them towards the window and Benny stands up immediately. The boys follow suit and Frankie turns to you.

“Stay here alright, doll? We’ll be back.”

You turn from Frankie to the window and back to Frankie with a worried look painting your face. “What’s going on Frankie?”

“They shouldn’t be here. This ain-“ You both turn at the sound of a crash and see Pope being held against Frankie’s car by a guy in a black tee with its sleeves rolled. Frankie runs out of the diner and you run after him. You know you shouldn’t be getting in between this, but you aren’t going to let anyone hurt your new friends.

Frankie runs up behind this guy, turns him around, and shoves him away from his car and friends. The guy smirks and nods at Frankie. “Did you miss me Frankie?”

“What the hell are you doing here, Oberyn? We already told ya friend there that this ain’t your turf.”

You had to admit, Oberyn had this strut to him that showed his self-confidence and the combination of his flirtatious smile and smoldering eyes only made him more attractive than he already was. Jack came to stand next to him and as he turned to toss some keys over to another friend of his, you caught sight of the word VIPERS with two snakes on the back of his jacket.

“Yeah… he told me ‘bout it. But ya anna know what else Jackie told me? He told me that ya got ya’self a knockout.” Oberyn locks eyes with you and winks. He tries to walk over to you, but Frankie pushes back and away from you.

“Don’t get near her.” Oberyn lets out a sarcastic chuckle and gets in Frankie’s face.

“How ‘bout ya make me, Morales?”

The next thing you knew, you were yelling and crying with Will held you away as you saw Frankie and Oberyn duke it out on the concrete while Benny and Pope tried to pry Oberyn away – Jack and some other guy pushing them away. You caught a glimpse of Frankie’s bruising cheek and Oberyn’s bloody nose. You only noticed the officer’s arrival once Will dragged you back in the diner and making sure Rosie held you back as he ran back to be by Frankie’s side when the local sheriff gets out the car.

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x you #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x you #catfish morales #francisco catfish morales x you #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dreamboat #catfish morales x you #catfish morales x reader

[musecharm-writes]

Bad Influence, Pt 3 (Steve Harrington X Reader)

Summary: A couple of days after your first day at Melvald’s, you tell Joyce about something that’s been bothering you; Steve gets help with his crush from a couple of friends.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Over the days following your first shift, things get much easier. You’ve almost totally forgotten the exchange with Harrington and his friend. You might be able to completely, if it weren’t for their extremely obvious attempts to spy on you.

You think they’re under the impression that they’re being very sneaky, which means they probably don’t know that you’ve already caught on, but it also makes you feel a little sad that this is the best they can do.

You elect to do your best to ignore it; a nosy jerk and his little pal aren’t gonna get to you, not when things are finally starting to go your way.

“You’re cleaning that counter a little forcefully, there,” Joyce observes, carrying a box past you. When she emerges from storage, she asks, “Something on your mind?”

You consider the question. You stop scrubbing the counter like it’s done something to offend you and lean against it, the rag still under your hand. “Nothing. Just thinking about the meeting with Chief Hopper.”

Joyce walks over to a nearby shelf with an inventory checklist on a clipboard. “Uh huh. Okay. So what’s really bothering you?”

You purse your lips. Putting the rag and lemon scented Pledge you were using to clean under the counter, you follow Joyce over to the shelves, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Steve Harrington’s friend and some kid have been following me,” you confess softly. “Every time I’ve left to go home for the past three days, I’ve caught them trying to spy on me. They’re probably gonna do it again today.”

Joyce looks genuinely concerned. “Steve’s friend? Who, what’s their name?”

You shrug. “Some girl. She was in here with him the other day, I think he called her Bucky?”

Joyce’s eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline. “ Buckley ? Robin Buckley?” She gestures with one hand to indicate a height of about five and a half feet. “This tall? Short brown hair?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s her.”

Joyce has a look of growing suspicion and confusion on her face. She lowers her clipboard to put one hand on her hip. “What did the kid look like?”

You frown as you try to remember. “Uh… a little shorter than that Robin girl, with curly hair, I think. At least, from what I could tell; he was wearing a hat.”

Joyce nods slowly. “...I think I know who we’re dealing with.” She looks you directly in the eye, and says, “Do you want me to tell them to leave you alone?”

You think about saying yes, just for a second. Then, you shake your head. “I’ll tell them to stop if it really starts to bother me. They haven’t realised it yet, but they suck at spying.”

Joyce laughs. “Okay, but if you change your mind, lemme know, and I’ll rough ‘em up for ya.” She smiles playfully, and you can’t help but laugh at the image of Joyce Byers fighting two children for bothering you.

“...Thank you, Joyce,” you say softly.

She gives you an odd look. “For what?”

“For… I dunno. For not being too hard on me, even though you were the one who caught me… doing what I did.”

She sighs, looking around to double check you’re still the only two in the store. “I won’t get into it too much since we’re still working right now, but… I used to be a bit of a wild child myself. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. Plus,” she gives you a little nudge with her elbow, “Hop likes you. That counts for something in my book.”

You smile at her. “I guess it does.”

--

“You WHAT?”

Dustin and Robin look pleased with themselves, despite the fact that Steve is filled with a murderous rage.

“We’ve been following your crush to make sure the two of you would be compatible,” Dustin repeats. “To be honest, I don’t think you’re cool enough to land this one, but Robin seems to think you have a chance, so I’m gonna go with it.”

Steve points a finger angrily, about to defend himself and his infinite coolness, and then closes his mouth and folds his arms. “I don’t have to signify that with a response.”

Robin chimes in with, “I think you mean ‘dignify,’ genius,” which really doesn’t help their case with the whole ‘Steve-is-incredibly-angry-at-them’ thing.

He throws his hands up, frustrated. “Whatever, who cares! Why have you been following a person who I have zero chance of ever being in a relationship with to find out if we could date? That’s weird! And probably invasive, I think! Which means it’s also creepy!” He stalls out as he realises the possibility that you may have noticed his dunderhead friends creeping on you. “You haven’t been noticed, right?”

Dustin blows a disbelieving raspberry. “Psh! Please, you’re kidding, right? I think if we were able to successfully spy on a bunch of Russian soldiers without getting caught, we can do this, no problem.”

Robin smiles triumphantly. “Yeah, Harrington. Have a little more faith in our abilities.”

Steve shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. He prays that they’re telling the truth; otherwise, he senses some major embarrassment in his future.

Steve sighs, resigned. “Fine. Fine . I’ll let you two keep playing secret agent on my behalf. But if you get caught, lie your asses off about what you were doing, okay?”

They both promise not to put Steve in any more hot water with you than he already is, but it doesn’t fully lay his fears to rest.

“Oh, hey! You should come with us this time! We can fill you in on everything we’ve learned so far, and then you can watch the wild crush in its natural habitat,” Dustin says.

Steve frowns. “I dunno… Sounds like a bad idea.”

“No, I think it’ll be good. That way, if we do get caught, we can say it was all your idea,” Robin jokes. (Or at least, Steve hopes she’s joking.)

Which is how they all end up hiding behind Steve’s car, across the street from Melvald’s, waiting for your shift to end.

When the time finally comes and you’re walking out the door, they have to communicate via hurried whispers in order to coordinate their movements. Steve thanks their lucky stars that you’d walked to work that day.

They follow you down the street away from downtown. In the moments when it seems you’re about to turn around and catch them or you’re waiting to cross the street, they duck into alleys or alcoves, dive behind cars, or hide behind other people. Steve hates to admit it, even only to himself, but he sort of enjoys the exhilaration of sneaking around. He’d forgotten how much he enjoys it.

At the corner of 12th and Oak, after hiding behind a parked car, Dustin hisses, “Shit.”

Steve immediately snaps to attention. “Shit? What do you mean, shit? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where--”

“Hey.”

Robin, Steve, and Dustin all yell in surprise, whirling around to find you standing behind them. You have your hands in your pockets, a rucksack over one shoulder, and a bland expression.

“...Hi,” Dustin says awkwardly. He looks around for a moment, apparently noticing for the first time the ramifications of his and Robin’s actions. “Uh, we can explain--”

You hold up a hand. “Don’t bother,” you point at Steve. “You had them,” you point at Robin and Dustin, “follow me, for who knows why and honestly who fucking cares. Please stop. You’re not great at stalking people.”

Ouch. Okay. Well, there’s a hard truth.

“Sorry,” Dustin says, looking genuinely dejected. Steve isn’t sure whether it’s because he upset you or because you said he’s bad at spying.

Your face twitches, like you’re trying to maintain your vaguely stern expression, and then it crumbles, and you sigh. “It’s okay. I’m not really that mad about it since you guys aren’t really bugging me that much, but just…” You run a hand through your hair. “Look, please stop following me around, okay? It’s weird, and a little creepy. I don’t know why you were doing it, nor do I want to know, nor do I really care. I’m just kind of over the weird shit.”

Robin and Dustin share a look before nodding, and Steve says, “Don’t look at me, I got roped into this at the last minute.”

You look confused, but you nod back. “Okay. Cool. Bye, then.”

You go around them and start to walk away, but before you can make it to the crosswalk, Dustin calls out, “WAIT!”

You turn to look back, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

Dustin says the last thing Steve wanted to hear him say. “Can Steve get your number?”

Steve’s entire face feels like it’s gonna melt off. He’s absolutely going to run away and change his name; this is just too goddamn embarrassing.

Then, you do something that shocks Steve to his core: you laugh. It’s a full, rich laugh, and it makes his heart pound so hard he thinks for a second he might be having a heart attack -- but, like, for real.

And then , you say, “Damn, kid, you have a lot of guts. Sure,” you swing your bag off your shoulder and root around in one of the pockets before emerging with a pen and a small notebook. You scribble your name and number down before ripping the page off and handing it not to Dustin, but to Steve, who feels like he might combust.

“I get home at one o’clock every day for the next two weeks,” you say, with a crooked smile. “Call me any time after that.”

Steve nods, dumbfounded, and you turn on your heel and saunter away.

“Holy shit,” Robin says, laughing, as soon as you’re out of earshot. “I cannot believe that that somehow worked in your favour. You are either the luckiest guy in the world or more pathetic than I originally thought.”

Steve pays her no mind. Instead, he’s desperately trying to remember if there are any rules about when to call once you get the phone number. Do you wait a day, or call that night? Or maybe you wait longer than a day? Or do you wait for them to call you? Wait, shit, he didn’t give you his number. 

Why didn’t he give you his number?

“Steve, I can practically hear you panicking. Calm down, it’ll be fine,” Dustin says.

Steve’s head whips around. He stares at Robin and Dustin, considering his options, and then realising that his only other options are Nancy and Jonathan.

“I need you guys to help me land a date,” Steve says.

--

You spend a couple of hours at home doing nothing in particular. You read a couple pages of a book you pull at random off the shelf, but you can’t concentrate on it, so you turn on the TV and start channel surfing.

All the while, you’re also trying to pretend you aren’t waiting for the phone to ring.

You gave Steve Harrington your number. If you’re being honest, you think you may be  panicking a little, but you don’t really mind the idea of him calling you so much as you mind the fear that this is some kind of joke.

A part of you is very, very afraid that it’s a joke.

You sigh, putting the remote down and stretching out on the couch. You gave him your number; all there is to do now is wait for him to do the rest. No use stressing over it since it’s out of your hands.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. As the hours tick by -- as you make yourself dinner and put some in the fridge for your mom, as you watch a movie with your feet up on the coffee table and a bowl of ice cream in your lap -- you start to lose hope that Harrington ever planned on calling you at all.

Then the phone rings, and you almost drop your ice cream jumping up to get it.

“Hello?” You say casually, proud of the fact that you don’t sound out of breath from running to the phone.

On the other side, Steve Harrington says your name.

“Y-Yeah,” you say, and then clear your throat. “That’s me!”

“Cool, cool,” he says. “So, hey, uh… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?”

You chuckle. “Wow. That’s a little forward of you, isn’t it?” You’re thankful that he can’t see you blush through the phone.

“Oh. Is--Is that bad?”

You smile, a little charmed despite yourself. “Nah. I’ll give you brownie points for it, if you want.”

“Oh! Sure. I, uh, I love… brownies,” he finishes on a bit of a low note, so you decide to throw him a line.

“You wanted to hang out, Steve?”

“Y...Yeah. Yeah. Uh, if you want. I just… Wanted to give us the chance to get to know each other. Like, under the right circumstances, y’know?”

You hesitate for a moment. You have a feeling that he’s got more in mind than the arcade; after a bit of thought, you admit to yourself that you’re at least curious about where this goes.

“Sure,” you reply. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll meet you at your place at… seven on Friday night? If that’s cool with you, obviously. No pressure, y’know.” He sounds a little nervous, and you can’t help but feel for him a little. Poor guy’s clearly out of his depth.

“Yeah, Steve. That sounds great. I’ll see you then.”

It’s not until after you’ve given him your address and hung up that it hits you: you might, potentially, have a date with Steve Harrington.

Steve Harrington, who saw you get arrested.

Great.

#stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #x reader #reader insert #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #joyce byers #robin buckley #dustin henderson #writing #writing blog #reader insert blog #x reader blog

[dex-xe]

If you are still taking Ghosts fic prompts, could I please request Pat/Julian angst #37? Thank you!

Pat & Julian Angst #37: “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

(Ngl I would never have thought about putting Pat and Julian together for this but I actually really love how it turned out!! That’s why I love this game,, makes me think outside the box. Thank you so much for this one!!)

Prompt list

Inbox

She had cheated on him. Cheated on him and he hadn’t even noticed. Of all the emotions coursing through Pat’s ghostly form, frustration was the primary motivator for his tears. How had he never noticed? In life, he had been so caught up in creating wonderful experiences for his scouts, so caught up he hadn’t spotted what was happening right under his nose. Now that he looked back he could see the glances Carol and his best friend shared, how they took care of Daley while Pat was at scout camp, the way he always seemed to be the third wheel, despite being the connecting factor between the two.

Pat rested his forehead against the piercing cold window pane, he couldn’t feel the soothing cool he so desperately desired but the attempt was there. Any death day at Button House led to a quiet and subdued atmosphere as the ghosts were all reminded of the very real, very human lives they once lived. But today had been different, marred not only by the mourning of Pat’s passing but also the shock that Pat’s sweet family life hadn’t been the perfect picture of domestic bliss he had always portrayed.

The others had tried to comfort him - they’d tried to reach out and break the tense atmosphere of the house - but no one had managed to get through to him. As soon as the other ghosts had discovered the truth as to why Pat was in a melancholy trance at the library window, individual plans were made to reach him.

Kitty had come running. She’d been the first to find him crying, curled up with his knees pulled to his chest sobbing quietly into the stormy night. She’d barrelled into the room and engulfed Pat into the biggest hug.

“She didn’t deserve you, Pat,” Kitty had cried. Tears were rolling down her face before she even made it to Pat, she just loved love and couldn’t cope with the break down of her friends marriage - even after death. “You are so wonderful, Pat. You deserved better.”

“I appreciate it, Kitty, I do. But we’re dead, my life was spent on someone who didn’t love me.” Pat yanked his glasses off violently and scrubbed at his eyes, blurring his vision of Kitty sat beside him. She’d stayed for ages with her arms around him, whispering reassurances quietly into his ear but the Kitty’s suffocating grip and even more smothering emotion couldn’t snap Pat from his miserable daze, if anything floundering in his own misery was making the situation worse.

Kitty had disappeared once she’d finally cottoned on to Pat’s yearning to be alone and Pat had been able to return his head to his knees and resume his sorrowful tears. A quiet cough broke the silence. The Captain had towered over him trying to catch his attention.

“Stand to, Patrick,” the Captain had said. “Can’t have you moping for the evening when there are troops to wrangle!”

“I’ve had a rough day, mate. Let me have a few hours,” Pat had told him, sniffling softly.

“It’ll do you no good - wallowing.” The Captain coughed and straightened up. “Your life was the way it was, nothing can be changed now so bury it deep and let’s go to Food Club.”

“With all the love in the world, Cap, the repression tactic isn’t exactly working out for you, so forgive me for not participating.”

Humphrey had also thrown his hat into the ring: “This doesn’t negate the life you lived, Pat. You gave her the most amount of love you could and that’s what matters the most.” But Pat hadn’t wanted a therapy session.

Thomas hadn’t opted for discussion but had instead perched beside Pat composing harrowing poetry around his doomed relationship, which certainly wasn’t helping the mood of the house.

But once they’d run out of ideas, the ghosts had left him alone in the cold library surrounded by nothing but shelves upon shelves of classic love stories and romance novels, mocking him with their happy endings. He curled close into the window and watched the droplets of pelting rain race their way down the glass, tracing them slowly with his ghostly fingers wishing his heart were still beating so he could leave tracks in the steamed window.

“I cheated on my wife,” a voice said from the darkness. Pat startled and jerked up to see Julian had faded through the heavy wooden door and was stood awkwardly in the shadows.

“Cheers, mate,” Pat said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Julian threw himself down on the sofa opposite Pat, rearranging his shirt tails before lounging back to face the still crying Pat.

“I cheated. A lot. You know, I got up to all kinds of shenanigans: Norwegian noodle parties, lot of them. And raucous nights with-,” Julian gazed off in to the distance as he reminisced.

“Can I stop you there, Julian? Because if I had any lunch, I’d be worried about keeping it down,” Pat said. “Your forgetting I was here, I saw what you got up to.”

“Oh I did worse than you ever saw, don’t doubt that.” Pat shrugged: he didn’t doubt that at all. “I got up to all this fun and Margot was just sat at home. She took care of Rachel; she was a great mother, I imagine. Sure, she wasn’t quite as clueless as you but she suffered what you did.”

“This really isn’t making me any better, Julian,” Pat said, adjusting his glasses carefully. “I don’t want to hear your life story.”

“Well, what do you want? You’re dead! What does it matter? What does it matter if your life wasn’t the perfect artery-clogging Christmas film you always thought it was, you’re stuck here now. What do you want us all to say?” Julian shrugged.

“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again!” Pat’s voice got higher and higher, squeaking at Julian who simply rolled his eyes. The two men sat in the dark. Rain hammered hard against the windows but Button House remained quiet in a melancholy trance.

“What I’m trying to say is my wife did nothing wrong. I wasn’t unhappy with her, per say, she didn’t do anything to harm me, nothing to stop me loving her. Just life, it got in the way, you know? Some people are just like that and others get left hurt in their wake,” Julian admitted. “You’re the same as my wife, Pat. You did nothing wrong to Carol. You didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t make her happy either,” Pat said.

“Who cares?” Julian huffed. “Who cares about some woman who clearly didn’t value you the way you did her? You made your son happy, and those boys - the scouts. You make that lot downstairs happy, sometimes. They don’t know how to show it particularly well but you do.”

Pat sighed. “I thought seeing them, learning about my family’s lives, I thought it would make me feel better. I really believed I was moving on because I found out about what Carol did. Silly idea really!”

“Seems logical enough, but probably a good thing you weren’t sucked off.” Pat turned away from the window and shot a quizzical look at Julian. “If I don’t have someone to delegate my leadership to, I’d be forced to herd that bunch of berks - they’re worse than the electorate. I’d have better luck organising monkeys at the zoo to do the quickstep than getting any order out of them.”

“Your leadership?” Pat chuckled.

“I’m the only elected official in this house,” Julian straightened his tie and stood to leave. “But I don’t like to force my authority; delegation is an important tool for a powerful political player.”

“Of course,” Pat smirked to himself.

Julian marched across the room towards the closed door, only turning back at the last second.

“Anyway, buck up your ideas, Pat. You’re needed.” Pat furrowed his eyebrows and shot a confused look at Julian. “The Captain’s trying to keep Robin from throwing Humphrey onto the fire - you know how he gets around a flame. They’re making a bloody scene and could do with some of your childcare expertise.” Pat grinned and followed Julian out of the library - leaving his despondent stupor for the first time in hours.

He couldn’t go back and change what had happened during his life, he wasn’t even sure he knew what he would change if he could. He’d tried his absolute best t everything he did during his short life. He tried to be the best husband to Carol, the best father to Daley, the best mentor for his scouts - even if something had gone wrong, there was nothing more he could give. And if he couldn’t be the best in life anymore, Pat was certain he’d be the best in death - the best friend, the best father-figure, the best mentor for a gang of needy ghosts.

#bbc ghosts #ficbymax

[aty-altiria]

Law/Holly pre-relationship

One-shot’s are hard, so I give you... practice pulled from Whump prompts I found online. Hazzah? 

PS: does anyone want to see the Ace/Holly soulmate one-shot and the Tenth Doctor/Holly I also practiced with? 

Holly was sitting on the grass of Sunny’s deck when a layer of blue film expanded across the deck steadily enveloping the ship. Brow’s furrowing Holly glanced up as the white pages of her book changed into a familiar color. Aware of what the film was, Holly saved her place with a bookmark and stuffed the hefty tome into her bottomless pocket. Holly pushed to her feet, cast her eyes toward the shore, and scanned it for a familiar bloodied figure. After a moment, a nearly silent pop echoed toward the left, and Holly started toward the ship kitchens where it had sounded.

At the current moment, Holly was the only one actively on the ship. The rest of the crew had elected to embark and explore the black market on the island they’d docked at. They all had something they wanted to buy or, like Luffy, thought they’d find adventure - and no one was going to stop Luffy from wandering a new place. Holly personally had elected to remain behind, she embraced the brief moment of comfort the crew had offered her. After all, it was challenging to find a single moment of quiet study as a Straw-hat pirate. She had found it, for a brief time until Trafalgar Law appeared again.

Opening the doors to the kitchen Holly’s attention settled on the collapsed form in the middle of the room and internally sighed. Why was it that the Straw-Hat’s couldn’t meet Law without him being injured? Was the man cursed like she was?

“Law?” she called, closing the door behind her, “do I need to worry about pursuit?”

The man grunted. He had his entire weight on the kitchen island, and his eyes were clamped closed in pain. As she approached, Law forced one eye open to catch a glimpse of her. Their eyes met, and he closed them again. He was, she assumed, assuring himself of her identity with that look, and Holly offered his back a fond smile. Law to this day preached that pirate allies shouldn’t trust each other. Yet he was the one who, without hesitation, ran toward them when he got injured. It was clear that Law believed in their crew enough to reveal his weaknesses to them and put his vulnerable and sometimes unconscious form in their hands.

Clearly, his preaching had little substance, but then, they were an odd crew.

Holly stopped at Law’s side and gently pressed a hand to his arm, “sit down before you collapse.” She nudged at him; however, Law shook his head.

“I’m fine… just needed a rest.”

Holly hummed unconvinced, “you didn’t answer my question.” She man-handled him slightly, nudged him around until she got his back to the island and his chest toward her. Then she took stock of his injuries; Chopper was faster and better at this than her, but Holly had her own skills when it came to healing. That and she cheated according to every doctor she’d ever met. “Are you being pursued?”

“Y- shi- careful Potter! Yes…” he winced as she accidentally prodded at one of his injuries. Holly gave him an apologetic look even though she had succeeded at getting him in the chair. Though that was mostly because he’d collapsed, legs unable to hold him any longer.

“Okay.” Holly flicked her hands to the side and shot out a Patronus… funny how it was a monkey now, Luffy really had earned her affection with his firm offer of freedom. The monkey hopped around slightly before it took her message, a mild warning that Law had shown up injured, and shot off to warn each member of the crew. That done, Holly fished a hand in her pocket and summoned a pair of vials into her hands. “Pain potion and blood-replenisher, you know the drill.”

Like she’d said, Law was around often and always injured.

And he did know the drill. Law took the vials without much fuss and downed them. His face scrunched at the taste, but he didn’t complain; too used to it, she supposed. “You should leave this island-”

“Oh please-” Holly reached up and placed a hand at his chin to tilt his head toward the light. There was… why were his eyes glassy? “-You’ve been around long enough to know Luffy won’t do that. His interest in this island will only be increased by this.” Not to mention, they all felt incredibly protective of Law by then. A side-effect of how many times they’d saved his, rather nice, arse. “Law, can you see me?”

He nodded even as his body swayed dangerously. He nearly fell off the chair, his arm coming up to slow to catch himself. Holly swiftly moved to brace Law before he did, and his head lulled, falling into her shoulder. Law dropped his full weight on her panting, but he wasn’t warm…  so what was happening?

“Law?”

He took in a shaking breath, and his hand came up to press fiercely at his right eye. Then, Law swore. “Think they… fuck- drugged me… airborne-” oh Merlin, and she’d probably just made it worse with her potions. Bugger-

“Hold on, one second- I’ve got you,” Holly wrapped her arms around Law’s upper body, and she gently escorted him to the floor. Already, and that was only a manner of seconds, Law’s body was completely limp, but he was still awake. His eyes flickered to her while unable could no longer move his body. Holly swore when she caught the pure panic in his gaze as he breath came shallower and shallower. “Hold on, hold on, I’ve got you Law.”

He was dying- what was this? It was acting so quickly-

Holly pulled out her wand, preferring to use it for such delicate work, then she pressed the tip to his stomach and pulled it in a slow, steady motion upward. She ran the tip of her wand upward, moving across his lungs, throat, and mouth. Law choked as she did, coughing violently as a thick, almost dust-like substance escaped his mouth. Holly quickly repeated her action, from stomach to chest, to throat, and mouth. She was basically forcing her magic to make him ‘throw up’ the substance in his lungs. It was brutal, likely excruciating, but ultimately effective.

Law gasped grabbing at his throat as he regained the use in his arms, he groaned and whimpered, but he never protested. He let Holly work until whatever the drug was, was wholly pulled from his body. And as she worked, his gaze locked on hers. Law sought her out, tracked her motions, and trusted her to save him.

It couldn’t have been five minutes later that nothing came out, and Holly cut the spell off. Law sagged at once, curling up with a groan.

“Sorry,” Holly stashed her word, tone apologetic, “it’s painful… but it works, and its the fastest way to get that crap out of you.” Law shook his head between his knees to wave her off. He understood, his devil-fruit wasn’t exactly painless either, Law knew sacrifices had to be made for health sometimes.

“It’s fine… thanks, Potter-san.” Law wasn’t stupid. If he hadn’t decided to use Room to access the Straw-hat ship… if Holly hadn’t decided to stay behind that afternoon, the crew would have returned to his corpse.

Holly clicked her teeth displeased in an instant. She hated the habit of this world. Everyone who called her Potter brutally reminded her of Draco Malfoy and the pure-bloods using her last name in ‘respectful insult.’ “you can call me Holly, you know, we’ve known each other for years.”

Law shrugged slightly as he finally lifted his head and glanced her way with a slow smirk growing on his face, “as you’ve said.”

“And one day you’ll listen to me… now, anything else bothering you? Do try not to leave anything out. I can only help what I know about, as you’ve said.”

Law shook his head, “I’m fine,”

“Liar.”

He made a face at her, “I’m fine, thank you… Potter-san.”

“Law I swear to Merlin-” he laughed at her, enjoying being able to tease at least one Straw-hat pirate. Holly made it easy too, she was easily riled up, and he took full advantage. Holly, at the same time, felt herself relax, his voice was rasping because of the spell, but he was breathing much more comfortable now. Law would be fine.

She’d get to look at his nice arse another day.

“Ah.” Holly paused and tilted her head to the side, “pause that thought. I think your pursuit finally caught up.” As she said it, she felt her ward on Sunny’s deck flex as unknowns landed on her deck. “Wait here, I have some questions for them.”

“Don’t forget the gas,” Law reminded her gently as he dropped his back to the kitchen island.

“Oh, I won’t.”

A bubble-head charm spell would be most useful for this particular conversation. Like Holly said, the Straw-hat’s were defensive of Trafalgar Law, and these morons had just stupidly entered her territory after harming him.

#One Piece #Harry Potter #fem harry potter #Trafalgar Law #Harry/Law #fanfiction #whump #one shot #mine

[hms-chill]

A Channel of Your Peace

Summary: Following Henry being outed, the election, and the end of the book, Henry and Philip slowly start to fix their relationship. There’s blood that can’t be unshed, but there’s also a chance that things could get better.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 6: Where There is Darkness, Let Me Bring Light

Chapter 7: Where There Is Sadness, Let Me Bring Joy

They're all back together again for the first time in ages, Nora and Pez joining the sets of siblings at Kensington. Nora's going to be running a final game in their series of D&D stream fundraisers, and she's promised a truly chaotic game that Henry can't wait for. But, about thirty minutes before it starts, he runs into Philip in a foyer. Philip looks upset.

"Pip? Everything alright?"

"I just had a talk with Gran. She... she doesn't think it'll work. The charity I was considering, I mean; she says it'll be too much to do, and I'm scared she's right. She has more of a sense of how things work on a structural level than I do; I only really know what it's like on the ground. And on the ground, you see all these people who miss their families, or who are going through hard things, but maybe... maybe there isn't anything we can do about it. Maybe she's right."

"Pip. With all due respect, which is very little, Gran doesn't know what she's talking about. She's old as shit." Philip lets out a bark of laughter at that, sounding more surprised than anything. "You know what she said when she found out we'd be playing D&D and sending out dice and having fun to raise money for the youth shelters? She called me, personally, to tell me it was undignified and bound to be a failure. She said that kids couldn't handle the responsibility of ordering royalty around, and that I was besmirching the honor of the crown by playing a satanic game with children for all the world to see."

"Didn't... those went well, didn't they?"

"They've been one of our most successful charity campaigns. So popular, we're playing another tonight, raising money for the shelters and for Bea's work. Whichever of us gets more donations has to eat a spoonful of the infamous Diaz family double spicy salsa live on camera. If we get enough, we both have to do it."

"The game sounds like a great idea, and I'm sure people will want to see you both deal with something that spicy. You'll have a great time."

Henry takes a minute, then says, "if you want, I bet you could join us. You could announce your charity and make it an early fundraiser if you want to risk the salsa, or you could just play with us for fun."

"I... you're sure you'd all want me to play?"

"I think so. I could ask everyone, but I don't really see a reason why not."

"If you think it would be okay, I'd like that. And maybe... I don't want to take anything away from you or Bea, but if you think it would be okay, maybe I could sort of... generally explain the plan for my charity and see about raising some support? I don't want the official opening or announcement to be on a D&D game, especially since it's so last minute, but maybe do a sort of soft opening."

"I think that makes sense. Let me text Nora and the others to make sure they're okay with you playing, then I'll teach you the basics and we'll get you a bear."

Half an hour later, they're sitting down in front of a camera, Philip armed with a rudimentary knowledge of how the game works and an unhinged polar bear whose role in their heist will be to be the face of the operation. Nora makes them roll for hats to wear, and Philip rolls a cowboy hat, so he becomes a cute unhinged polar bear in a cowboy hat. He explains his charity wearing said cowboy hat, and Bea explains hers in a trilby and Henry explains his in both a fez and a top hat, so they are obviously ready to be taken entirely seriously by the British public. It is especially obvious how serious this whole thing is when Alex, wearing a top hat of his own, protests that the salsa isn't even that bad, and Nora threatens that it might burn the taste buds off royals used to plain toast. When the announcements of charities and prizes are over and the Diaz Double Spicy Salsa has been placed ominously behind them, Nora gets down to business, explaining their mission to steal not only the world's best honey, but also the beehive of legendary American president Abraham Lincoln, thought to be haunted by the ghost of Lincoln himself, from a convention being held in the middle of a bustling city.

Alex, a polar bear officially labeled "incompetent", is the brains behind the operation, so it's off to a great start, especially when they find out that Bea also rolled to be the brains of the operation, and her rookie honey badger isn't much better at it. June is the muscle of their group, a slick sun bear ready to sense honey and not let anything stand in her way, and she takes initiative to pull doors off buildings and break down walls while getaway driver Pez (an equally incompetent polar bear) drives through them and Philip is left trying to explain away the rubble they leave behind them. Henry, a retired sun bear tasked with hacking into systems, has just gotten a safe open to reveal not the honey they're after, but a note from a rival team of bears who got there first. As he's reading it, the doors slam closed, and the room begins to fill with poison gas. At the last minute, June moves as many stats as she safely can to bear, and rolls to tear down the door. It flies off its hinges, and Pez bursts through as Henry hacks into the other bears' GPS while Philip, on Alex's orders, impersonates a human for the news and asks for any calls about bear criminals to be directed to him. It's a whirlwind of chaos and laughter that culminates in a nearly impossible getaway, with Pez almost giving up all his bear instincts and June nearly being picked up by animal control as they make a final escape back to the woods.

Nora closes them down in a final scene so moving it deserves an Oscar, and the players cheer, Philip joining them in their laughter. Nora pulls up their donation results and grins.

"What are the numbers, Nora?" Henry asks.

"Good news for all of you, we blew our goal out of the water. Which means, it's three big spoons of double spicy, coming right up." She passes the spoons out, and Alex grabs the salsa. He grins as he passes it down, and Pez dips an experimental chip into it before passing it on to Henry. He tries it, then laughs.

"Ooh, this is going to hurt."

Henry looks at his siblings, each of them with a spoonful of salsa, Philip looking like he might have a regret or two. Alex counts them down, and they all put it in their mouths at the same time.

Philip's whole face goes red almost immediately. Henry feels himself start sweating, and he reaches for the milk greedily as Alex pours it. He glances past Philip to Bea, expecting to see her struggling like he and Philip are, but she looks absolutely normal. He manages a "how?" in between gulps of milk, and she shrugs.

"It's good. Hot, but good. I like it. Pez, pass the chips."

Pez is laughing as they cut the cameras. Henry emerges from his glass of milk to see Alex leaning forward to kiss him, and rather than the nice kiss he was expecting, he's met with a heat that could rival dragon breath, leaving him reaching for more milk as Nora laughs. Philip is laughing, too.

Later, they'll find out just how much they raised for Philip's charity even before it's officially off the ground. Philip will open his instagram or twitter and find out just how willing supporters of Bea and Henry are to rally behind him, and even more importantly, he'll realize just how many members of the military, current and former and from all levels, support his ideas and his work. He'll find DMs full of stories and love, and fan art of them as bears, wearing ridiculous hats and stealing honey from a high rise. But for now, he makes eye contact with a sputtering Henry, and they smile, and something unspoken passes between them.

It feels like one of the promises they would have made each other when they were little, barely able to understand what a promise was. Like they're promising to fight dragons and cross oceans and go to space for each other, and to be best friends forever and ever and never fight or say bad things ever. And maybe they'll never be best friends again, and there will probably be times where they'll say bad things or lash out, but in that moment, Philip knows: he'd fight a dragon for Henry. He'd fight a dragon, and parliament, and their Gran, and anyone else Henry needed him to fight. And he knows that Henry would do the same for him.

On AO3

Notes:

The game they're playing is called Honey Heist, and I rolled for all their roles/hats, so it really is as chaotic as it seems. It's great, played almost entirely with d6s, and a super easy intro to D&D! You can find it here.

--

Want to support the Hannah-Makes-Art fund? You can tip me in ko-fi here!

#rwrb #my fic: rwrb #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #philip fox mountchristen windsor #red white and royal blue

[lord-rosenth0rne]

When Jim met Morgan Pt 1

Continuing on with the Morgan Nightingale(Morgana)/Jim Starling drama, or beginning with it, anyway. 

I have a series of events planned out during the time they were working together to further explain what went on behind the scenes. 

Morgan and Elmo (Megavolt’s actor) were theater partners in college and beyond until Elmo left for Hollywood. When there was an opening for a love interest, Elmo immediately snatched up a script and tracked down Morgan who had already been on a hiatus from acting to raise her little girl. 

Part 2 here.

(Also Elmo and Quackerjack’s actor are dating on the down-low during all of this. Their romance was more of a slow burn and they’re still together to this day.)

“Ooooh, I don’t know, Sparky. Television is a big leap from live theater. I don’t even know how you were able to do it so easily. What if I mess it up? What if the rest of the public doesn’t like me? What if I don’t do a good enough job for the role?”

“Nonsense, Morgan! This part was practically made for you- by people who probably don’t know your work… But I thought of you the moment I read the script! And if you mess up, they’ll either let you do it again or edit it out. It’s no big deal! I’ll be there too for emotional support. I mean, I AM a reoccurring villain for the show!”

“That’s sweet of you, but… what about Mina? She’s still so young. I’ve been putting off returning to acting in general at least until she’s in school.”

“I’ll watch Mina if your audition goes well,” a soft, clear German accent rang out. “You should try to expand your horizons, my darling. I think this will be a good experience for you. Go show the world how wonderful you are.”

“Oh, Rodrick… You know what? Let’s do it!”

The conversation of her auditioning for the Darkwing Duck role “Morgana Macawber” churned in her head on the way to the studio. Her old theater partner, Elmo “Sparky” Sputterspark, had tracked her down to deliver the script in hopes that she would get the part. After reading it, Morgan fell in love with Morgana’s character and, with a gentle nudge from her husband, decided to go with her friend to audition.  She elected to go in with her long dark hair pulled back in a low ponytail under a wide-brimmed red hat while wearing a red double-breasted trench-style jacket with a belt, black dress pants and heeled boots: the color scheme noted in the script. In truth, she looked as if she had stepped out of a detective novel.

Her fingers gripped the seat of the golf cart as they approached the building where it was to take place. The ride over was pleasant enough. She and Sparky were going over the script with Sparky delivering the best Darkwing Duck impression he could which resulted in hysterical laughter but the moment they passed onto the studio property, a sense of dread filled Morgan and the laughter stopped. Sparky drove up to the lot and parked the golf cart.

“Here we are!”

“I-I haven’t auditioned for anything since before I found out I was pregnant with Mina…” she grumbled under her breath and began to sink in her seat with her eyes on the building number. “I don’t know if I can do this… I-I’m out of practice...”

One of her hands was pried off the seat and held between Sparky’s which patted the back of it.

“It’ll come back to you. Just like riding a bike. You can do this. If you can belt out “Defying Gravity” to a full house with visiting royalty in attendance, you can audition for a small group. Trust me, they are waaay less judgy than the theater crowd.” he reassured her. “Or at least, from my experience anyway. Come on. I bet Jim’s here too to see  how well the actresses work with him.”

Sparky stepped out of the golf cart only to look back to see Morgan clinging to the interior. Her head snapped to him looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“Wait, Jim Starling’s here too?”

“Maybe, but you’d still have to meet with him anyway. You are auditioning for Darkwing’s love interest after all.”

“... I’ll just wait out here…”

“Morgan, I promise, he’s not going to bite.”

After the forty-somethingth audition, Jim looked like he was about to bite. He was now slumped down in his seat with over two dozen disposable coffee cups littered around him and an irritated scowl as the last auditioner left. He had been reading the same scene over and over. Beside him were three people who were tasked with casting Morgana Macawber.

“What did you think of that one?”

“Clear, strong voice. Seems to have an idea of who she’s portraying but delivery was a bit weak.”

“What do you think, Mr. Starling? Any thoughts on her?”

“No, and I would like to go home now!” Jim pushed himself up in his chair to stand. “You yahoos can do this without me!”

“Well, we wanted to see if you had chemistry with any of the actresses who auditioned so-”

“Pfft, ‘chemistry’. Like that has anything to do with acting.” he rolled his eyes as he grabbed his things and stormed toward the door. “Just pick one and get it over with! I’ve got better things to do with my time!”

“But we have a couple of more-” the head casting director tried to say but Jim disappeared through the doorway. “Aaaand he’s gone. Great. Well, I guess we can continue on without him.”

“You know he’s going to complain about anyone we pick, right?” another commented. “He’s done that with half of the cast already.”

“Yeah… I know.”

It took a little coaxing on Sparky’s part to get Morgan to release the golf cart and into the studio but by some miracle, he did it. On the way to the auditioning room, Sparky showed Morgan the sets and costumes to try to calm her down, as well as the costume ideas they had for Morgana that were hanging up in the seamstress’ area.

“Ooooh, so they’re going for the Morticia/Elvira/Lily Munster vibe. I love it!” Morgan gasped. “I hope I can look as good as them in such a dress after having a little one.”

“You look like you haven’t even had any kids, Morg,” Sparky laughed as he put an arm around her. “Besides, Lily and Morticia are mothers after all and still rock the dresses they wear.”

“I guess that’s true.” she snickered.

“Come on, we have to head this way-”

Movement out of the corner of his eye made Sparky’s head perk up to see Jim heading toward the studio door with a sour look on his face.

“Oh! Wait, there’s Jim! Jim!” Sparky called out, waving to his co-star. He took Morgan’s hand and rushed over. Jim glanced up only to roll his eyes.

“Great. I’m kinda in the middle of leaving-!” he called back but was stopped by the Megavolt actor.

“I see that, but I wanted you to meet someone first!” Sparky grinned, pulling Morgan into view. Jim’s face immediately fell leaving his mouth agape as Morgan gave a nervous smile and shifted some. “This is Morgan Nightingale, my old theater friend! She’s here to audition for Morgana!”

“Pleased to meet you,” Morgan offered a hand to Jim but he didn’t take it. He only continued to stare with a dumbstruck look. A frosted border framed his view of her and her voice became muffled as the woman withdrew her hand with a concerned look. “Ah… are-are you okay, Mr. Starling?”

A sound much like a squeaky toy being strangled to death escaped Jim’s throat with his mouth opening and closing several times in a struggle to actually say something.

“Hello? Earth to Jim! Come in, Jim!” Sparky waved a hand in front of the actor’s face then placed a hand under his chin. “Huh… Guess he’s had a long day. Let’s, ah, let’s get onto the audition and check up on him later.”

Morgan nodded, glancing between the men.

“Well, it was nice meeting you!” Morgan chuckled then followed her friend in the direction Jim had just come from. “Hope we have the chance to work together!”

Sparky paused to allow Morgan to catch up and she thumbed over her shoulder at Jim who had turned to watch them leave.

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. He does his own stunts after all. Maybe he hit his head one too many times.” Sparky flicked his hand.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Either that, or it’s love at first sight!” Sparky teased.

“Oh stop!”

Jim stood there in an intoxicated trance, his mind trying to process the woman he just met. His heart slammed against his chest, threatening to burst out to chase after her. “Woah, mama…” was all he could muster before stumbling back to the room he just left.

The three at the table stood the moment they laid eyes on Morgan. Sparky didn’t have to introduce her. They already recognized her which surprised both of them. The three had erupted in absolute gushing.

“Morgan Nightingale! You’re auditioning for this part?!”

“Please say you are! Ugh, you were wonderful in the Phantom of the Opera!”

“And in the King and I!”

“Don’t forget Wicked! You nailed Elphaba’s part to a T!”

Morgan looked startled at first before smiling and giving a small nod.

“Thank you. I didn’t expect anyone here to know who I was,” she admitted softly as she wrung her script some. “But I would like to audition if that is okay?”

“Okay?! That would be more than okay! Please, go ahead and-!” the head casting director started but paused at the sight of Jim drunkenly stumbling into the room and back to his seat. The director’s demeanor changed to a colder, quieter tone. “I thought you left.”

Jim shook his head hard, sat up in his seat properly and placed his elbows on the table while clearing his voice. “Nah, I just thought I’d stay for… one more…” he turned his gaze to Morgan with a smile. His mood picked up considerably which made the casting crew glance among each other and smirk. Jim grabbed his script and thumbed through the pages quickly. “Miss… Nightingale, was it? Let’s… ah… Let’s try acting out the scene where Darkwing meets Morgana…”

#Darkwing Duck #Ducktales #Jim Starling #Morgana Macawber #Morgan Nightingale #When Jim met Morgan #Megavolt #Quackerjack #Actors

[elizabeth-234]

The Supplejack

Chapter Five: The Beginning 

Previous - Chapter Four: They aren’t There Yet

Warnings: none

Summary: Peter Parker has been alone his whole freshman year but finds hope when Stark Industries announces a science competition. The prize? An internship with Tony Stark.

Hi friends! I hope you are doing well. Thank you for sticking with the story. Updates should be more regular from now on :) For those of you who are reading my other story I am working on a chapter of Someone to Care now and it should be up soon. Thanks again! This one is more a transition chapter but I hope you enjoy.

The alarm on his phone blared loud, interrupting a sleepless dream. Peter groaned as the bones in his neck popped under his stretch. Today was the day. The papers were signed, his schedule was cleared, and he was ready. As ready as he ever was going to be.

Once he dragged himself out of bed, Peter stared into the mirror attempting to comb his hair into place. The tool ran through one curl, taming it into place, when another would appear somewhere else. It was infuriating. He sighed giving up and threw the comb back into the drawer. There was a worn out hole in his sleeve right where his thumb rested. He kept pulling it down and unconsciously sticking his finger through the opening as he ran through the checklist in his head again. Not trusting his earlier preparations he hefted his backpack down on the bed and went through the folders again.

There would be enough time to make his way there and be a little early. He stuffed the folder back in his bag and left his room. The dishes covered in remnants were stacked in the sink and Peter glanced at his watch. There was enough time.

Quickly he soaped and dried the dishes. Once they were away he turned off the lights and left the apartment skipping down the stairs. He raised his hand in salute to the man lounging on his front porch, beer in hand. The subway was running on time today but Peter stopped to listen to his favorite saxophone street player. The coins that were in the bottom of one of his backpack pockets clinked together as they fell into the empty case in front of the player. Peter briefly glanced up and she nodded while continuing to play on the platform.

Looking at his watch again he realized he would be exactly on time if everything went smoothly. He elongated his pace and started power walking up the stairs. His breath came out in short puffs when he spotted a lady carrying one to many bags on her way out of a store.

His feet skidded to a halt as he spied her look both ways, head bending around the bags, before venturing out into the busy sidewalk. The woman wobbled between the people as they bumped her packages without a second glance.

He glanced at his watch again. Then back at the lady.

She was heading in the right direction after all. He bounced on the heels of his feet before plunging into motion. Navigating through the people he caught up with her just as one of the brown bags piled on top was about to teeter off. It fell forward and he reached to catch it. He didn’t know if a touch on her shoulder would be welcome and he asked loudly so that she could hear if she needed further help. Her white hair peeped out from the bottom of her hat as she turned her head around the bags to look at him. A smile graced her lips and he could feel the tips of his ears heat.

“Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.” The bags weighed down his arms but he sealed a breath in and nodded.

“No trouble at all, Miss.”

“Miss? I haven’t been called that since I was a bit younger. Aren’t you a polite thing?”

Peter could feel his cheeks ripen and they continued on to her apartment. Sweat gathered under his arms as small tremors traveled down to his fingers from the weight. A sigh of relief escaped him when the bags were finally in a cart located in the front lobby. She thanked Peter and pinched his cheek. He rubbed his hand across the sore spot and tried to ignore the clenching in his stomach at her contact. The woman’s smile didn’t fade as he mumbled that he needed to go. She just turned the little cart around.

The position of the arms on his watch alarmed him and once she was safely in the elevator he ran from the building. Down the street, dodging people as he went, he shuddered when he stepped into a puddle. He was breathing hard when he made it to the front desk. A ring of condensation formed under his fists resting on the desk and he could feel the water slushing in the soles of his shoes. The man working at the front desk glanced up and his eyes widened at the state of Peter.

“I’m sorry,” he said in between wheezes. “I’m... ”

“Peter Parker. Here’s your badge. Just go straight up to lab five.” He tempered the continued tremor in his hands and took the badge. Covertly wiping away the condensation with his sleeve he mumbled a thanks and walked up.

The outline of his face was visible in the elevator. He wiped his hand across his forehead and wiped the moisture on his pants. Peter’s foot tapped against the wall and he checked to make sure his breath didn’t smell. His head popped up to make sure there were no cameras watching his preening. When the gleam of the small screen caught his eye the blush erupted across his face and neck.

“Friday?” He asked hesitantly.

“Hello, Peter. How are you today?” Her voice was pleasant and immediately calmed him.




“I’m, uh, okay. How are you?”

“Today is a pleasant day. I’m happy to hear you are well. You seem to be overheated.”

“Yeah, I’ve been running and late this morning.”

“Here, let me help.” A blast of cool air hit him and his bangs dried in a matter of seconds. He sighed as the tips of his hair curled around some invisible rod.  

“Thanks, Friday! That’s great.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Peter. Here you are. Lab five is down the hall to the right.”

“Thanks again. I, I hope you have a nice day.”

“And you as well.” Peter smiled up into the air, unsure of where to look before scrabbling through the closing doors. The weight on his shoulders hadn’t lessened but he felt, for a moment, that he was more able to carry it. He glanced at his watch and cringed. Twenty minutes late for his first day. Would they fire him?

He stopped in front of the doors and let his eyes loose focus. He could do this. Mr. Stark said they chose him. He had to do this.  His eyes lifted and the doors slid open on their own.

The breath caught in his throat when he spied a dozen eyes glancing back at him. His palms and forehead cold from Friday’s help now were drenched. Peter mumbled an apology and slipped into the first open seat he saw. Flash was seated in the front and the butterflies in his stomach swarmed. He was happy Flash had made it but the nerves the boy evoked were still there.

The woman in front started talking again, not calling attention to his interruption.

“As I was saying you were all chosen for a reason and now represent the Stark brand. Therefore ….” She went on to talk about the rules for the interns and expectations. Peter zoned out and concentrated on minimizing the sweat he was rapidly accumulating.

“Now, since there are eight of you, for the majority of the project you will be spilt into two groups of four. That way you can get to know each other more but it will be more coherent group work.”

The butterflies lessened when he found out he was in a different group then Flash. Instead he was with an older boy named Frank, Monica, and the last was young like him. Her name was Julia. She gave him a smile before looking down when they met eyes. Frank took charge and had them all introduce themselves to the group.

Frank was a senior in high school and couldn’t wait to go to college. He seemed levelheaded and encouraged the others to talk. Monica went next. She was practical and already had more than one internship. There was a steel glint to her eye that made Peter nervous but overall was professional. Peter liked Julia the best. She was younger than him and almost as nervous. Julia stammered a little with her introduction but managed to smile at the end.

Frank was sure they would work well together and didn’t seem put off by Peter’s quiet demeanor. Peter found out that the head intern’s name was Lee and everyone seemed to like her. They would be working on a project together and have smaller weekly check-ins with the group leader. Frank elected himself and he would be in charge of the monthly updates to Lee. They plotted out a schedule so some days they would be working together and others they would be able to work on their separate piece they were responsible for.

Pages of Peter’s notebook were filled with notes by the time they were done. He had just got his teammates numbers when Lee called him over. He flinched down; sure she was going to reprimand him for coming late. Her voice was soft and he looked up under his eyelashes.

“You’ve been asked to stay after today. There were some papers of yours that needed fixing. After your done with your group head on up to lab two.”

He walked away on unsteady legs and cursed himself for not paying enough attention. Mentally he went through the list of papers and couldn’t think of one he missed. He had checked and rechecked to make sure he had everything.

“What was that all about?” Monica asked as she looked up from her notebook, the words were meticulous in their neatness.

“Oh, uh, just more paperwork, I guess.” She snorted in sympathy and went back to note taking.

“Alright. This looks good. Glad you dudes are ready to work. I’ve got to get to work but I look forward to working with each other.” Frank nodded at them before leaving with Monica.

Julia sat there staring down at her notebook reading when Peter noticed it was blank.

“Hey, uh, Julia right?” She looked up startled and nodded before looking down again.

“I really like your pen.” He cringed at the bad segue but was surprised when her expression brightened.

“Thanks! This is actually the prototype of what I did on my audition. It memorizes what you write and plugs it into an app I programmed. The newer model is way cooler but I’m afraid I might break it if I use it all the time… Sorry you didn’t ask for that whole explanation.”

“No, that sounds cool. I wish I had something like that in class. It would be easier to keep track of everything.” She looked up to him and blushed.

“If you want I could make you one?”

“You, you don’t have to at all.”

“I have a bunch at home so it’s no problem.” They came to the elevators and he stopped.

“Thanks, Julia. It was good meeting you. I have more paperwork to fill out so I’m heading up.”

Her smile remained in place and Peter hoped that he got to know her better. He felt a kind of kindred with her and recognized many of his own traits in her. They waved goodbye and Peter made his way up. Friday directed him to lab two. The doors were shut but as Peter reached to knock they opened on their own. He really had to get used to that.

Peter stopped for a moment when he saw Mr. Stark facing away from him, scrolling through a screen in midair.

“Uh, Mr. Stark?”

“Come on back, kid.” Peter made his way past the different tables piled with materials, forcing himself forward so he wouldn’t be caught staring. The man didn’t turn around but patted a seat next to him.

“How was the first day?” Peter fidgeted to get comfortable but gave up because it was causing too much noise. Uncomfortably, he crossed his legs so he would stay balanced.

“Oh, it was great Mr. Stark. Thank you again.”

“Give me something more than just the word great.” Peter was silent, not sure what to say, how he would describe the day. The man swirled to look at Peter.

“Let’s start with who’s in your group?” The man asked, his eyebrows rose in curiosity. Peter ran his fingers along the edge of the table while he answered.

“There’s Frank, who seems nice. He’s been a good leader so far. Monica is intimating but again seems nice and Julia is really sweet.  She’s even younger than me!” He looked up to find Mr. Stark smiling at him. The man’s eyes softened.

“That’s probably the longest sentence you’ve ever said to me, kid. Thank you.” That made Peter’s heart clench for some reason but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in response. “Anyway, I have a proposition for you. I know you will be busy with the stuff downstairs but I didn’t know if you wanted to come help me out sometimes on another side project?”

“Yes!” He spoke without thinking. He didn’t have to think about it, was more than willing to help out Mr. Stark.

“Hold on, you don’t even know what it is for.”



“It’s okay, I want to help.”

“Have it your way but you should ask your aunt’s permission before you commit. I’ll expect a definite answer next time you come.” Peter nodded already knowing May would be fine with it.

“You are free to stay for a bit or can go if you have somewhere to be.”

“I’ll stay if you’re sure I’m not in the way.”

“I’m just tinkering.” Mr. Stark swung back around to look at the images hovering. They were parts of some design Peter never had seen before and he hesitantly asked the man. He answered politely. Mr. Stark seemed content to answer but Peter didn’t want to mess with his thinking process and just sat quickly next to him.

Mr. Stark got absorbed in his work and Peter quietly pulled out his Austen. He was working on Sense and Sensibility now. He was sucked into his own world and it wasn’t until someone’s back popped that he was brought back. Mr. Stark rubbed his eyes and looked around. They widened when they saw Peter sitting, still there.

“Peter? Have you been there for the whole time?”

Peter hunched his back into himself. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark! I just thought…”

“No don’t apologize. It’s my fault it’s so late. Let’s get you some food and I’ll have someone take you home.”

Peter jumped up. 

“Its okay! I can get home myself.”

“Listen, I insist. I can tell you’ve got a protective one in May I am sure she wouldn’t want me to send a starving child back to her.”

Peters face burned in embarrassment. Mr. Stark clapped him on the shoulder and led them up a set of stairs Peter hadn’t seen before. There were surprisingly little options and Mr. Stark pulled out a frozen pizza from the freezer. It was heating and they sat in silence.

Peter looked around in awe what looked like some type of apartment. All of the counters were immaculate and the furniture was beautiful but it was missing something. He glanced back at Mr. Stark whose back was turned toward the stove before looking around again. There were no pictures on the walls. In his apartment May made sure that all their family photos were hanging on the walls. It was one of the things he hated after Ben left because every time he walked in their naïve smiling faces loomed in front of him.

Here, though, the room was sparse. There was art hanging on the wall, large books on a coffee table but nothing that spoke of the person who lived here. It looked more like a museum or spread in an architecture magazine than a home.

Peter played with the hole in his shirt trying to gather the nerve to speak to the man. For once Mr. Stark seemed to feel Peter’s own awkward nature and it was rubbing off on him. They ate in silence and not for the first time Peter wished that he could interact like a normal human.  Mr. Stark made sure he had thirds of pizza, which left Peter with a warm feeling.

When they finished Mr. Stark offered to drive him home or have someone drive him but Peter resisted fully this time. He thanked Mr. Stark who stared at him hard when he refused to let someone drive him home again.

“Thank you for the pizza and everything. Have a good night, Mr. Stark.” Peter could feel the man’s eyes trained on him as he got into the elevator. As the doors were closing he looked up to meet those eyes and gave a small wave. It might have been the distance between them but he thought he saw Mr. Stark’s eyes soften for a moment.

Peter breathed a sigh when the doors shut and the elevator moved. 
He thanked Friday for all her help that day and she wished him a good night.

The air was cool and the city sounds cocooned him in familiar comfort. Peter cringed at his dismal conversation skills and wondered why Mr. Stark invited him to stay. Why the man was even paying attention to him at all.

Thank you!! 

Chapter Six: Not so Empty Classrooms

#The Supplejack #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #fanfiction #peter parker #iron man #tony stark #AO3 fic #marvel fanfiction #mcu #intern peter #eliza writes #my writing #writing #new chapter #irondad #spiderson

[fereality-indy]

Wendip Week 2018 Day 6 Moving In Together

Monday June 12th, 2017

Mystery Shack

 “Ok, would you be so kind as to tell me again why I’m covering you at the front counter. I mean why are you sitting out here waiting on Stu?” Gideon asked as he came out to the front porch of the Shack.

 "Well, I’m waiting on a letter from Grandview University. Mom and dad were pushing for me to go to one of their alma maters but that would take me all way across the country. I rally want to stay near home and Grandview has an excellent Cryptography and Mythology departments.“ I say as I continue to watch the drive up to Shack.

“And what about you?” Gideon said as he turned towards Mabel.

 “Nunya,” Mabel said before taking a sip out of her can of Pitt.

 “Oh, come on. You can tell lil ol’ me, for old times sake.” He said as he tried to ply his old charm. The problem is my sister and I are two of the people who have been able to see through his malarkey.

 “You know what, I’ll tell you why I’m out here if you tell us where you disappear to once a month. And don’t give me that ‘exchange’ program excuse.  I don’t know of any exchange programs that last through the summer months.” Mabel shot back, tired of Gideon’s attempts to find out about her business. He had gotten over his crush on her a couple years ago, but he still is nosey about her life.

 “Uhm, well I think I heard a customer. I better get back to the register.” Gideon said as he quickly dodged the issue. One of these days I’m gonna have to look into that, I already would have but Grunkle Ford said to left him have a few secrets.

 Once I was certain that he was gone I turned to my twin and asked, “So what are you actually waiting for?”

 “Pacifica is having some paperwork delivered from her lawyer and I’m one of people she has authorized to be able to accept it for her.  She can’t have her parents know she’s doing this.” Mabel said as she went back to work on the sweater she was knitting. It was a little sweater for Stacey, and she has an applique of a cartoon heart talking on a phone that she is gonna add when she has it done. “Actually between the two of us we have nearly forty-eight percent bought and she has feelers out to get even more. At the next board… oh hey there’s Stu.”

 I hopped up and met Stu as his truck made it into the lot. “How are you doing today, Stu?”

 “Pretty good Dipper,” he said in his low gravelly voice, that and his stout body and it’s not that hard to see the family resemblance to his niece Grenda. Though he is definitely more hirsute than his sister and niece. Reaching into his bag he pulled out a stack of envelopes and handed them to me, “Here you go.”

 I glanced through them quickly and saw that none of them were from Grandview. Disappointed I turn and started to head in when Stu called, “Oh, hey Dipper. I have one more. It was in the large mail pile.”

 He was holding a nine by twelve manila envelope. I rushed back and took ahold it. When I saw it was from Grandview I ripped it open. With a cursory look I saw that it was the acceptance letter I was looking for and  quickly reached up and pulled Stu into a hug.

 “Well I take it that was good news.” Stu remarked as I let him go.

 “Yep, college acceptance letter. Thanks.” I said before I turned and ran around towards the back of the Shack. Wendy was working on replacing the kitchen door from where someone had tied Waddles to the handle this morning. He was okay with it till a gnome ran by him with a bag of puffed cheese curds that Soos had ‘thrown out’. Soos put out a second trash can and started tossing new cans of Wrinkle potato crisps, bags of puffed VegStix, and other non-perishable foods when he learned that some gnomes struggle most of the summer to build up a enough supplies to survive through winter. The old door is now part of the ‘I Survived An Attack By A Wereboar’ display along with a photo-shopped picture of Wendy’s brother Kevin with Waddles head and front hooves.  

 I turned the corner and was struck by the scene before me. She was there in her tank top, with her flannel tied around her waist. She had her hair pulled back in a braid so that it wouldn't get in her face while she worked. Surrounding her was a group of tools she had borrowed from her dad when she heard what was needed. I was once again struck by how lucky I am that she had chose me. Snapping out of it I strode forward,  “Wendy, it’s here. I made it. This fall I’ll be a freshman at Grandview University.”

 “Sweet.” She said as she prepared to drill the hole into the door so that she would be able to put the handle and lock in.  “I knew you could do it, I mean with your grades you could have gotten in anywhere you wanted. Now I know we’ve had this discussion before, but are you sure you didn’t chose Grandview because I’m going there?”

 “Nope, that is just an added benefit. I chose it because it has nationally ranked departments in both cryptography and mythology.” I said as I braced the door as she pressed the hole saw against the frame, “Also since I got several base credits out of the way with my AP classes, there are a few elective courses I want to take that the combination of which is only offered there.”  

 When she was done drilling, she put down the drill and looked at me. “Well now that I’ve got the obligatory ‘Choose Your School For Yourself And Not For Someone Else’ protest out of the way, congratulations.”

 She pulled me to her and pressed her lips to mine. When we came up for air she said, “We should go out to celebrate.”

 “Already ahead of you, there’s a fairly new Vietnamese place in Schaal Lake that a customer told me about. It’s an hour and a half drive to get there but the Banh Mi and the summer rolls are supposed to be worth it. I’ll even drive, cause I know you’ve been working hard today.” I said as she went back to work on the door.

 “Sounds good to me. Pick me up around six, ok.” She said followed by a quick a peck.

 Later That Evening

 After a shave and a shower I got dressed in jeans and grey flannel. I had made most of my preparations weeks ago and only had to call the restaurant earlier when I got home to make sure they would be open when we get to Schaal Lake. I made sure I had everything I needed and headed down to my Fjord Hauler. Even though it is nearly a decade old, it’s a reliable little truck. As I prepared to leave, I shot out a few texts I one to Wendy to let her know I was on the way.

 It didn’t take long at all to get to Wendy’s. She has been staying with her dad since spring session. Dan was having some trouble over the winter season, what with Wendy in college and Marcus getting married  and moved out. Though he dotes on little Colin. If it wasn’t for Mayor Tyler I think Manly Dan would have accidentally destroyed his house by now. He was over nearly every night cooking dinner and teaching the Kevin and Gus how to care for themselves now that Wendy wasn’t there to do things for them. It wouldn’t surprise me if the two of them follow Blubs and Durland’s example soon. They really aren’t hiding it that well.

 When I pulled up Wendy was on the porch waiting on me. Since we were going out to eat she seems to have eschewed her hat and instead still had her hair in the braid from earlier. A fresh emerald flannel and some stone washed denim jeans completed her look. I reached over and opened the door as she walked up. She gave me a kiss as she got in. once she fastened her belt we were off.

 During the trip we listened to some music and talked about some of the customers we had today, the music that was playing, Antonio and Stacey’s antics, and what courses we planned on taking. That last one lead into talking about how the school’s freshman housing regulations didn’t require me to live in a dorm like so many movies make you believe just as we entered Schaal Lake. I turned down a side road that by all appearances lead away from the interstate and into town.

 “I mean really if we wanted to we could just stay in Gravity Falls and drive to classes every day.” Wendy said as we entered  into a residential neighborhood.

 “Lord no, if I wanted to have a two and a half hour commute I’d have stayed in California.” I said as we neared a house with a ‘For Rent’ sign out in front of it.  I stopped in front of it as I continued, “I mean take this house. From here we would have a maybe a half hour to forty-five minute drive to school and still be close enough to the falls that we could be there quickly if there is some sort trouble.”  

“Yeah and it would still far enough that dad couldn’t expect me to drop everything if Tyler couldn’t make it over for the night.” Wendy added as she looked around the neighborhood.

 “Let’s take a look at it.” I say shutting off the truck. Wendy seemed reluctant at first but when I open the door and gently took her hand she came with me. As we passed the sign I pointed out that it said ‘Open House’ and ‘Hal Forrester Reality Inc.’.

 “Maybe we can call for a tour, it says the realtor is based in Gravity Falls. But I can’t say that I recognize the name.” she said as we reached the front of the house.

 Looking around we found all of the windows had their curtains closed. “Alright, I’m gonna look on this side to see if there are any windows where we can peek through the curtains. You check that side.”

 “You sure?” Wendy asked looking a little apprehensive.

  “Ok, who are you what did you do to my Wendy?” I said with a smile so she would know I was kidding.

 “Hey this could be serious, the neighbors could call the police on us and neither of us have a juvenile record to fall back behind.” She said straight-faced before she started cracking up. “You’re right dude. Anyone asks were prospective renters.”

 She gave me a kiss and then headed her way I started towards the other side but once I knew she had turned the corner I rushed out and grabbed the sign. Then back to the front door. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the key and let myself in, leaving the door cracked. Taking a quick look around I saw that everything was in order, so I headed to the to dining room for the next phase of my plan.  I flash a thumbs up to the little red light shining from the bookshelf in the room.

 I hear the door creak open with a call of “Dipper? Are you in here? Ok, man this isn’t funny. Wait a minute, what is Mr. Panduck doing here? And that’s one of my axes.”

 Her voice was getting closer and my nerves were beginning to falter. What if she doesn’t like it. Oh man, get it together Pines.

 Wendy then walked into the room, Mr. Panduck in one arm and her ax (not the one in the hall) in her other. And she looked ready for combat. Once she saw me and that I was ok she relaxed. Seeing that I said, “Well Wendy how do you like our little house?”

 That seemed to shock her, “Our… our house? What are you talking about Dipper?”

 “Well, we’ve been talking for a bit about moving in together once school started and on my last trip out to visit you I came across this house for sale and went through the whole spiel we went through outside by myself. When I talked it over with Grunkle Stan we decided to come check it out. After he finagled a better deal he ended up buying the house. And before you start, we are renting it from him. I hope you don’t mind that I took the initiative and found us some where that fit a lot of our requirements.” I said as I started to lose all of the bluster I had built up.    

 “Dip,” Wendy started.

 “Alright I know I should’ve waited. I should’ve asked you first. I shouldn’t gotten your dad to help move stuff out here. He also checked the plumbing and fixtures. But it was mainly so he would know it was a two bedroom and I wouldn’t be putting any type of pressure on you. And now there is pressure. I screwed up. The whole premise here is screwed up. And now I’m rambling. Why am I rambling? Why can’t I stop?” I was saying till Wendy placed a finger on my lips hushing me immediately.

 “It’s ok man, calm down. While, Yes I would have liked to have been in on the decision, you did good here. So take a slow, deep breath.” She said as she helped me calm down. “So dad knew about this huh? I guess that’s why he told me to ‘Don’t worry about being out late’ as I was heading out tonight.”

 She started looking around some, as she continued “You say it has two bedrooms? The living room looked comfortable enough for when we do movie night. The kitchen is a little cozy, but having this pass-through certainly makes up for it. The backyard is big enough that we could host a barbeque if we wanted. So yeah, you did good. But we make the rest of the decisions together, alright?”

 While her back was towards me, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my second surprise of the night. When she turned back towards me I was down on one knee with a ring on a simple plaid cloth in my hand. “Sounds good to me, why don’t we start with: Wendy Blerble Corduroy, will you marry me?”

 She stood there stock still for almost a minute and I began to wonder if I screwed up, before she tackled me with tears in her eyes. “So is this a yes?”

 “Yes, you idiot.” She said before she pulled me into a searing kiss. Breaking it I placed the ring on her finger. As she was getting ready to plant another one on me both her phone and mine went off signaling that we had texts.

 “Ok, I just got three texts. One from Tambry saying ‘Congrats’, another from Lee saying ‘About time’ and finally one from Nate that I ‘Make an honest man out of you’.” Wendy said looking a little perplexed.

 Looking up from mine I read, “And I got ‘Treat her right or else’ from your dad, ‘Mazel Tov’ from Mabel and Pacifica, and the Stans send their love.”  

 Still perplexed she asked, “How did they know?”

 I pointed over towards the red light on the bookcase, “I was streaming. It was the only way to be able to do it with out Mabel being here and making a spectacle of it. Her first suggestion was to have the proposal written out in fireworks.”

 Wendy chuckled at that and then got up. She walked over to the light and pulling the camera up before saying “That’s all folks. Shows over.”  

 Then she followed the cord and turned the computer off when she reached it. She turned back towards me and said, “Now not to complain, but the original reason I thought we were coming out this way was to get some Vietnamese food and I’m hungry.”

 And as if she spoke it into exisistance there was a knock on the front door. As I passed her I said, “That’s another good thing about living here, they deliver.”

#gravity falls #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #wendip #WendipWeek2018 #moving in together

[k-i-s-m-e-t]

Secret Santa

TianShan Xmas Event: Presents (Day 2) Fandom: 19 days Rating: Mature Status: 1/2 Warnings: None Pairing: TianShan Words: 4,102

Summary: Based on this freaking hilarious & amazing prompt!! I hope you don’t mind that I ran with it. I’m not sure this is what you expected but hey lol enjoy!

When Mo took the volunteer job at the mall, he had done so begrudgingly. It was punishment after all, brought about by boiled-over frustration that had fueled the language he’d used to respond to his teacher’s inquiries about his tardiness. It was the third time that week he’d been late. Put on the spot, he didn’t know how to explain that money was always tight around the holidays and he’d been walking to and from school each morning in lieu of the train.

He was monopolizing any place he could cut some corners to save a few dollars. The allowance he got wasn’t much, but he saved as much of it as possible. This year he’d told himself he’d get his mom something good for Christmas. He hated seeing that overjoyed look on her face when she opened his handmade or cheap gifts. Like the “Mom of the Year” plaque he’d made in shop class last year that she boasted about having on her desk at the hospital, or the cheap earrings he’d bought at a stand she still wore proudly several times a week. A person like her deserved better, she deserved the world, and it frustrated him that he was just a broke high school student.

Getting a job was, “Completely out of the question!” she’d barked when he had off-handedly mentioned it. It was her duty to provide for him, not the other way around. If they needed to make ends meet, she’d work double shifts, he couldn’t afford to slack off on his studies.

Seeing his taken-aback expression, she’d softened instantly. “I know you mean well honey,” she’d said a hand cupping his cheek, “but we’re doing fine.”

The command to, “See me after class!” had been given on the spot and when the bell rang Mo hung back, dread setting in. He waited until the room cleared before even considering approaching his teacher’s desk.

Taking a breath, he stood and gathered his belongings, packing them up slowly, stalling for time. Sweat from his palms smeared along the cover of his history textbook as he fumbled with it, slick fingers shoving it into his bag. He nearly yanked the zipper off his bag when his name is called.

The walk to the front from his back-row seat seemed infinite, blood pulsing in his ears, each step forward magnified in the now empty classroom. But then he was there, hanging back a few steps as if proximity could diminish his impending punishment. He figured this slip-up would earn him a few days minimum in detention.

“What?” Mo spat standing uncomfortably in front of the teacher’s desk. Agitation amounting from anticipation.

The man looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“Watch your tone with me, that little outburst you had this morning coupled with your tardiness has you looking at a week-long suspension right now.”

“What the fuck!” Mo exploded.

The man slammed his open palm down on the desk. “Language!”

Mo flinched.

He pointed a finger level with Mo’s chest. “One more offense like that and we can finish this conversation in the principal’s office.”

Mo clenched his fists, seething, he could feel his temper flaring but he nodded. A week long fucking suspension? His mom was going to kill him.

“As of today you have been tardy 13 times! 13! And you don’t just show up five minutes late, oh no! Sometimes you stroll in here 20 to 30 minutes late. I need an explanation for this, it’s completely unacceptable!”

When Mo remained silent the man rubbed at his temples, trying to ease the tension gathered there, then sighed.

“Look Guan Shan, I’ve seen a significant amount of improvement in your schoolwork and behavior this year. I’m proud of you. I don’t want to see you start backsliding, got it?”

“Got it,” Mo mumbled.

“Look, let’s make a deal: The Humanitarian Club, which I lead, needs a few more volunteers for our Santa’s Workshop at the mall. We desperately need a photographer as our current one recently got sick with the flu and I know one of your electives this year was photography. I’ve seen your work and I’m pretty confident in your ability. You’d just have to take photos of the kids sitting on Santa’s lap.”

“I..” Mo hesitated.

“Don’t feel pressured to do it but.. I’ll be frank with you, it’s either this or suspension. At least this won’t show up on your record. Also, I’d need you to be able to commit to doing it for two weeks, just until our photographer gets better.”

An image of his mother’s disappointed face flashed through his mind, he sighed… but two weeks?

“Ok, when do I start?”

His teacher smiled, glasses glinting. “Today.”

That afternoon Mo found himself at the local mall, and as the automatic doors slid open he was immediately engulfed in a retail wonderland, Christmas style. He wandered around for a bit, window shopping, eyes drinking in the season’s assortment of clothing and trainers in his favorite shop’s windows.

Truth be told, he wasn’t exactly sure where he was supposed to meet for this volunteer job, he hadn’t really paid attention to the details. He been too relieved that he wouldn’t have to explain to his mother his suspension and could instead spin the situation in his favor, as doing some community service out of the goodness of his own heart, having caught the holiday spirit. Yeah… she was going to see right through that lie.

In the food court he made his rounds, filling up on free samples to stave off his hunger until dinner. As he exited the half circle of vendors he could see a Santa’s Workshop display near the children’s play area. Tossing the toothpick the last sample had been on, he shouldered his backpack and headed over.

The site was bustling and he could recognize plenty of familiar faces from school. A few eyed him warily given his delinquent reputation, but most were absorbed in their duties.

Amid the group he spied Zhan and felt his body relax, not realizing how much tension had built up. This might not be so bad after all, he thought. Zhan barely talked but neither did he, at least he knew someone here.

“You too?” He inquired as he approached, bumping Zhan’s outstretched fist.

“In a way, my mom’s part of the PTA,” he stated as if that explained everything. “Apparently they never get enough volunteers.”

“Where’s Jian Yi?”

“Why do you assume he’d be here? We don’t do everything together.”

Mo waited.

Zhan sighed. “He had clean-up duty after school & caught a later train, he should be here in a few.”

“Alright everyone,” a bespectacled girl addressed the group. Movement halted as everyone paused giving her their full attention.

“Last week was great and we had an amazing turn out!” Many in the group clapped and whistled.

“Let’s try to do even better this week,” she laughed. “You know your positions, if you have any questions don’t hesitate to talk to me. Let’s go out there and spread some holiday cheer!” A few whooped in response, Mo rolled his eyes.

They all drifted to their respective roles, and as the crowd thinned the girl’s eyes fell on him.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed in annoyance. Mo recognized her as his class rep from middle school. The same one that had demanded he stop playing cards on school time.

“Pleasure to see you too,” he quipped.

“Save it, come on so we can get you set up and out of my hair.”

Off to the side there was a trolley parked with several suitcases stacked on top, she pulled off the topmost one, resting it gently on the floor and unzipped it. Nestled between foam cushioning laid the nicest camera Mo had ever seen, let alone touched. She removed it from its casing and held it out to him.

“You’ll be shooting with this.”

Taking it gingerly from her, he cradled it carefully in both hands. The DSLR was a larger model, a Nikon D series, he tested its weight, pleased that it was nice and solid, felt good in his hands. He ran his fingers along the textured gripping on the side. The lens he could tell came standard but the depth it could shoot was still considerable. He’d be able to get plenty of clear, close up shots. Damn he was in love, he would in a few words, totally fuck this camera. It was sexy as hell and sensitive to the touch. Bringing it up to his face, he aligned the eyepiece carefully along the curve of his cheek and brow, lightly pressed the shutter release. The smooth click of the shutter opening and closing was music to his ears, like the purr on a nice sports car. He thumbed at the playback button to review the photo. It was displayed on the screen in crisp quality; a Christmas tree in a store front effortlessly preserved in time.

“Nice,” Mo breathed.

“The photos you take will save automatically & transfer immediately to that computer station,” she pointed “where we display them to allow parents to pick their favorite. There’s a tripod in that bag too that you’ll shoot from, you just need to set up in front of Santa’s chair. All I ask is, that at the end of the night you box everything up just how you found it.”

“Sounds easy enough, so all I have to do is take the pictures.”

“Yea, try not to fuck it up. Oh, also ruin that camera and I’ll kill you.”

“Noted.”

“Oh, one more thing.” She unfolded an elf hat, and held it out to him. “I need you to wear this.”

“I’m not wearing that,” Mo said dismissively.

A hand clutched his forearm and she looked up into his face, light obscuring her eyes behind thick frames, “Yes, you are.”

“Okay, okay!” Mo exclaimed. What the hell was wrong with these people??

To their left a child bounded down the roped off line, dragging his mother behind him.

She patted his arm. “You’re on.”

Once Mo set up the camera and tripod, which he would admit he struggled with, just a tad, things ran smoothly.

The first few kids, though excited, followed his instructions to smile and say cheese. The student playing Santa he was sure helped facilitate the process, the guy was really good with kids. He greeted them in a cheery manner and made them feel comfortable. He even calmed a watery-eyed little girl, wiped her tear streaked cheeks and got her to smile wide for the camera.

Mo couldn’t help but find himself chuckling at some of the jokes he could hear exchanged or Santa’s reactions to their wish lists. It softened his mood and he found himself greeting the parents and kids in similar pleasant manner. He was almost disappointed when 7:30 rolls around and they close-up shop for the day. Almost. Gathering up the camera and tripod he carried them both back to the trolley; unzipped the travel bag and folded up the tripod stowing it neatly in its compartment. Before packing up the camera he pressed the playback button, cycling through the images he’d taken over the past few hours, mentally making notes of where he’d succeeded and how he could improve.

“Nice work today,” a voice said and he was ashamed of the brief scream he emitted.

“Could you announce yourself.”

The class rep leaned back, a smirk on her face. “Where’s the fun in that? Anyways, I saw the shots you took, good thing your stay is only temporary or our current photographer would be out of a job.”

“I…”

“You’re talented, glad to have you on the team. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she clasped his shoulder briefly before walking away.

Mo soaked in her words, a newfound vigor guiding his actions as he popped out the camera’s battery and stuck it into a portable charger to power-up overnight. I’m… talented.

The words carried him afloat as he left, waving an honest goodbye to the few stragglers. Zhan was still hanging around the set and Mo moved to see if wanted to walk home together but the other politely declined. Mo could see Jian Yi cleaning up the and he gets it. No explanation needed.

The high got him through the sliding doors of the mall exit only to be knocked flat on his ass.

He was blinded for a few seconds as the stupid elf hat he forgot to take off is knocked askew covering his eyes. Rage ensued.

“Who in the mother fuck is looking for death?!”

He ripped the hat off and was met with an outstretched hand in his face. Genuinely confused he looked up as the owner of the hand chuckled.

Fucking He Tian, of course.

“Don’t you have a graveyard to lurk in?” Mo bit out irritably, and smacked away the offered hand.

“Are you implying that I’m the grim reaper? I like that,” He Tian purred.

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Mo got gingerly to his feet, dusted his pants.

“Why are you even here? The mall’s closed.”

“I was doing some shopping,” he gestured to the small bag dangling from his wrist.

Mo could tell by the bag’s logo it was from some pricey jewelry store. He rolled his eyes. “Fancy gift for one of your admirers, I’m sure.”

“Not quite,” He Tian said but didn’t offer an explanation.

“Anyways, I gotta get going so are we done here?”

“I can’t lie you look pretty cute in that get-up,” He Tian said, looking him up and down. “Why don’t you come sit on my lap.”

“Yeah, you’re about the 5th guy to spit that line today,” Mo remarked pushing past him. “Try again.”

“Hmm okay, you know you’re pretty cute when you’re wrapped up in your own little world.”

“The hell kind of comment is that?”

“I saw you walking, you looked content with yourself. A nice change from your usual mad at the world persona.”

“And for this you chose to knock me on my ass.”

“You bumped into me, actually.”

“Right.”

“Why don’t you let me walk you home?”

“How ‘bout no?” Mo said stalking off. Body tensed in anticipation of the strong arm he knew would swing around his shoulders and drag him off anyways but nothing came.

He glanced over his shoulder but He Tian was gone. Weird.

The next day wasn’t as easy as the first. It was, in short, mild chaos.

Mo bounced a screaming baby on his hip as the mother and Santa tried to console its twin. He looked down into her ruddy face, eyes squeezed shut, tiny fists balled as she opened her mouth, silent for a few seconds catching her breath, little body vibrating with the subdued rage she planned to unleash. Mo sighed steeling himself for another round of screaming.

‘Why are you crying? You have no real problems, fuck I should be crying.’

“Say cheese,” he dead panned as the mother finally stepped out of the frame, the other child momentarily consoled.

The baby looked surprised in the picture but at least he wasn’t crying. Good enough. Handing over twin number two to Santa, he glanced at the endless line of parents and toddlers.

“Let’s get this over with.”

Click!

The daily 15-minute breaks were heaven sent and he executed his usual system of hitting up the food court, stopping at every food place offering free samples. By the time he had reached the end, his appetite was comfortably sated. There was still about ten minutes left before he was due for the second half of his shift so he sat on a bench nearby, pulled out his phone to review his finances. The amount he’d saved up so far gave him enough bandwidth to explore several options but he still had no clue what to buy his mom for Christmas. After making this much effort it had to be good, memorable, but what do you get the woman that claimed she had everything she’d ever wanted. He rested his chin in his hand in defeat. Ughh, this shouldn’t be so hard. The bench jostled and he glanced to his left, surprised to see Santa sitting next to him.

“Hey.” the guy offered, voice muffled by the giant white beard that obscured most of his face. One hand shifted his belly so he could sit comfortably.

“Hey..” Mo returned.

“Nice job out there today, I didn’t know you were so good with kids.”

“Likewise man, today was.. something else.”

Santa cracked open a bottle of water, taking a few gulps. “Yeah we have days like that but it’s generally smooth sailing.”

They sat in silence for a bit, the soft murmur of the bustling mall and crinkling of the water bottle drifted between them.

“You.. can’t take the costume of?” Mo asked, breaking the silence.

“Nah, can’t risk one of the kids seeing me and realizing Santa’s not a chubby jolly old white dude. Imagine if they found out he isn’t only not real but a high-schooler.

Mo laughed. “They’ll find out sooner or later.”

“That’s cold man,” Santa said but his grey eyes twinkled behind the spectacles.

Mo shrugged, checked his phone. “Crap, breaks up. I’ll see you back at the workshop.”

Santa raised an arm in farewell. “See you.”

Mo jogged the short distance back, but couldn’t shake the odd feeling that he knew Santa. He couldn’t place why exactly, but the costume restrictions made it difficult to see what he looked like and his voice didn’t sound familiar. Whatever, he would ask him his name next time he had a chance.

As soon as he stepped back on site the class rep ushered him back to the camera, scolding him about tardiness being why he was here in the first place.

Face breaking into a scowl, all previous thoughts vanished from his mind as he double-checked the camera battery supply and adjusted the lighting. He’d just finished tidying up around Santa’s chair when the guy returned from break. Mo resumed his place at the camera as the line reopened and mildly subdued chaos ensued.

Two days down. A week and a half to go.

“Who the fuck are you supposed to be? Rudolph?” Mo addressed Jian Yi as he unpacked the camera and tripod for his shift.

“No,” Jian Yi sniffled, wiping at his vividly red nose. “I’m sick. I think I caught something from one of these brats.” He sneezed, open mouthed of course, snot and drool dripping.

“Gross dude, cover your mouth, you aren’t five,” Mo muttered hastily gathering his supplies so he could vacate the area asap.

Every day that passed without coming to a decision on what to get his mom was making him more and more irritable. Walking out to the set, camera at the ready, the sounds of crying increased the closer he got, an opposing battle cry.

Please, just take me now.

When his break came around, he found himself anticipating the arrival of Santa. It’s not like Mo was looking for the guy or anything. Yet meeting up had become almost an unspoken ritual, in the same vein as Mo forgetting to ask for his name.

The question was always at the forefront of his mind but the guy was hilarious and Mo became easily swept up in the conversation, usually not realizing he had again forgotten to ask until he arrived home that night.

This time the guy showed up with dumplings that keep Mo’s mouth occupied the majority of the conversation, as pickings were light in the free sample area. A few of the vendors had caught on to his scheme and conveniently weren’t handing out samples when he came by.

“Can you believe that last kid spat up on me? I’m never having kids,” Santa declared shaking his head in disbelief.  

“Yeah sucks to be you,” Mo chewed thoughtfully. They were quiet for a bit.. “Hey,” Mo started “This is kind of random but what’s your name? I didn’t catch it the first time we talked.”

Santa paused, swallowed. “It’s uh Li Jie,” he said slowly.

“Oh.” Unfamiliar. “I guess I don’t know you after all, I know pretty much everyone at school.”

“I tend to blend with the crowd,” he shrugged, eyes focused on the waning dumplings.

“That’s cool,” Mo said, popping another piece into his mouth. “Me too.”

The week ended and casually spilled into the next. Mo had gotten used to the ebb and flow of the volunteer job, and could proudly say his photography skills had improved considerably. Li Jie and he were becoming good friends but there was something off about never actually having seen the guy out of costume, which Mo joked about. Actors like Li Jie, along with a few others who played Santa’s elves had to get dressed in the mall restroom or come already in garb. Li Jie had a habit of disappearing by the time Mo had finished packing up the camera equipment for the night. He had even invited the guy over for dinner one day but Li Jie had politely declined claiming he was behind on his schoolwork. Understandable, given the fact that they spent three hours after school at the workshop. He had promised to come by once the job ended, a week after Mo’s punishment. Mo had even vented to him about his struggles in finding his mother the perfect Christmas gift, asking him what he should get her.

“You know your mom best,” he had said. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate any gift you give her. Just remember it’s not about the price but the meaning behind it. If the effort comes from a good place, which I know it does, she’ll love it.”

It had brightened his mood at the time but he still wasn’t sure what to get her.

As much as Mo thought he understood life and might even be one step ahead, it had a way of knocking him back ten feet when he least expected it.

“10-4, we gotta brat,” Jian Yi muttered off to his left, pretending to be occupied with adjusting decorations on the set’s Christmas tree.

Mo twisted on his stool, turned his attention to the line, eyes widening as he watched a mother wrangle her screaming daughter into her arms and walk up to Santa’s chair. The girl had a handful of her Mother’s hair and was yelling for all she was worth, limbs flailing.

“Man,” Zhan whispered, “my sister was bad but never like this. “I hope this guy can handle her.”

Mo watched for a reaction from said Santa but it was hard to gauge anything given how much of his face the beard obscured.

The mother looked embarrassed and nervous as she handed the screaming child over to Santa. Mo had to give it to him, the guy was composed, bouncing the girl on his knee, cooing to her, easily calming the crocodile tears. The mother beamed at the turn of events, whipping out her phone to snap a few tear-streaked pictures.

Mo relaxed, relieved to see the situation easily diffused, his heart bloomed a bit in pride for his friend, which he quelled, brain cycling through the mental gymnastics of why he doesn’t actually really care.

Mo had to give it to the guy, he was really good, he watched as Santa leaned in, beard tickling the little girl in his lap, she giggled in response. At this point the lines were rehearsed and Mo could imagine him asking her what she wanted for Christmas. She pondered, tiny face scrunched up in clearly serious thought, then suddenly a tiny fist shot out and she yanked his bread down around his chin.

Mo was on his feet instantly, because no, no way, this couldn’t be happening.

“Ah shit,” he heard Zhan mutter off to his left.

Mo turned on him.

“You knew,” his voice cracked. Zhan looked pained.

“10-4 He Tian is fucking Santa!” Jian Yi whispered loudly behind them. “He’s fucking Santa, are you guys seeing this!”

“Who’s fucking Santa?” another student offered with a snicker.

“Guan Shan..” Zhan said, but Mo doesn’t want to hear it. He felt nauseous and too hot, his hands shaking, felt like couldn’t breathe as if all the air had been sucked out of the space. Mo bolted because fuck this, he would rather have suspension. He can’t believe how stupid he was, how oblivious he’d been, everyone must have known but him. What a fool.

Sorry not sorry to leave y’all on a cliff hanger but part two will come out on Day 5, so if you enjoyed this stay tuned, resolution come soon ;D

As always thanks for reading, your comments & tags give me life x

#19 days #tianshanchristmasevent #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #my writing #kis writes

[womenofcolor15]

Kanye West Proudly Admits In GQ His First Presidential Vote Will Be For Trump + 'Ye Says Kobe Bryant Was The Basketball Version Of Himself

Take a deep sigh, y'alls problematic fave is talking again.  Kanye West covers GQ magazine and he opens up about casting his first ever presidential vote for Trump and his close relationship with late NBA icon Kobe Bryant. Highlights inside…

          View this post on Instagram

                  Presenting GQ's May cover star: Kanye West. Hit the link in bio to read the story by @WillWelch. Photographs by @Tylersphotos.

A post shared by GQ (@gq) on Apr 15, 2020 at 5:00am PDT

  Kanye West is the cover star for GQ’s May 2020 issue where he offers up a series of interviews that spans across five weeks and three countries with GQ editor-in-chief Will Welch.

The 42-year-old has never voted in his life. However, that’s all going to change when the 2020 presidential election comes around. Remember in 2015 when he was telling the masses he would run for president in 2020?

Ye didn't put a bid in for 2020, however, he did say last year he plans on running for president in 2024.

So, since Kanye can’t vote for himself in the upcoming election, the Jesus Is King rapper will be casting his first ever presidential vote for his homie Donald Trump, who will be up for re-election. Lord, help us.

“So look, I’m not telling anybody who they should vote on, what they should wear, where they should live. I’m doing me,” he told GQ magazine.

We see he still only likes to flaunt and admit to his influence when it benefits him.

Peep the highlights from a conversation he had with GQ on January 30th on a jet from Cody to Los Angeles below:

GQ: So this is an election year, and I’m curious how your faith plays into your thoughts on politics. To go back to when you put on the MAGA hat, how do you see that moment from where we are now, sitting on this plane, in January of 2020?

Kanye West: Both my parents were freedom fighters, and they used to drink from fountains they were told they couldn’t drink from, and they used to sit in restaurants where they were told they couldn’t eat from. They didn’t fight for me to be told by white people which white person I can vote on. [laughs]

What do you make of how that moment reverberated? Did it have the effect that you intended?

I didn’t intend for anything except to speak my mind and express how I felt. I have no intention other than to be free, and I don’t intend to be free—I just simply am.

What was at odds to me about you wearing the hat is that “Make America Great Again” is about looking back. Whereas, to me, you are a perpetual forward thinker.

I buy real estate. It’s better now than when Obama was in office. They don’t teach you in school about buying property. They teach you how to become somebody’s property.

For the election ahead, do you plan to speak more about it, or are your interests elsewhere?

No, I’m definitely voting this time. And we know who I’m voting on. And I’m not going to be told by the people around me and the people that have their agenda that my career is going to be over. Because guess what: I’m still here! Jesus Is King was No. 1! I was told my career would end if I wasn’t with her [Hillary Clinton]. What kind of campaign is that, anyway? That’s like if Obama’s campaign was “I’m with black.” What’s the point of being a celebrity if you can’t have an opinion? Everybody make their own opinion! You know?

  Ye just continues to prove he's all about self and not the greater good of the people. And frankly, we're over him.

          View this post on Instagram

                  For the May issue of GQ, @WillWelch spoke with Kanye West in a series of interviews that took place over three months and across three different countries. Head to the link in bio for the full story. Photographs by @Tylersphotos.

A post shared by GQ (@gq) on Apr 15, 2020 at 6:48am PDT

  In a separate conversation for the cover story, the Grammy Award winning rapper talked about his close relationship with late NBA icon Kobe Bryant. This interview went down days (72 hours to be exact) after Kobe died in a helicopter crash (Jan. 26th), and he admitted he was taking it hard. When asked how he was doing he said "not good." When asked what was wrong, he responded, "Kobe was one of my best friends.”

He got candid about his feelings and how Kobe "was the basketball version of me, and I was the rap version of him."

West: One thing I thought was really amazing is that we were able to find a groove with the photographs today even as out of it as I was with the loss of Kobe. We were able to just go to the court and play ball. There’s one street that I drive to go from either my office or my home to the property where the domes were built. [Editor’s note: The street is Las Virgenes Road, the site of the helicopter crash that killed Kobe Bryant and eight other people just four days prior.] So now there’s no way for me not to be as determined as Kobe every time I drive down that street. It’s game time. There’s no move that we can’t make, or that we’ll wait to make. Everyone in our life is now a member of the Lakers on one of Kobe’s championship teams. The way that Kobe would say that we all have to come together and win this championship is the way I look at life now. To an infinite, other level.

This is a game changer for me. He was the basketball version of me, and I was the rap version of him, and that’s facts! We got the commercials that prove it. No one else can say this. We came up at the same time, together. And now it’s like, yeah, I might have had a reputation for screaming about things—but I’m not taking any mess for an answer now. We’re about to build a paradigm shift for humanity. We ain’t playing with ’em. We bringing home the trophies.

The Yeezy designer also talked about a time he felt his late mother - Donda West - talking through him.

You seem really focused on architecture right now—developing and building these domes.

When I visited the Tadao Ando Art Island [in 2018], there were three James Turrells next to each other and I said, “We need to live in a Turrell.” The funny thing is, the first time I ever talked to Turrell on the phone was the night I ended the Saint Pablo Tour. And the last thing I ever said on that tour was, “The show’s over.” Which felt like my mom talking through me.

How so? Like she was telling you through your own voice to stop?

Yeah, and telling everyone else. Like, “My son is not just here to fill up these sports arenas. My son’s got something else to do.”

          View this post on Instagram

                  “Life is a song that's already been written, that takes your entire life to hear.” At the link in bio, @WillWelch spoke to Kanye West about the Yeezy campus he's developing in Wyoming, his next album, his “altered ego,” and his renewed faith in God. Photographs by @Tylersphotos.

A post shared by GQ (@gq) on Apr 15, 2020 at 9:45am PDT

  The YEEZUS rapper opened up about wanting to retire from rap and the moment he realized he was a functioning alcoholic:

Let’s talk about the music you’re making.

I was thinking of not rapping again, because I rapped for the devil so long that I didn’t even know how to rap for God. Then one of my pastors told me, “My son just said that he would want a rap album about Jesus from Kanye West.” He didn’t say, “Kanye West, you should do this,” or “you need to do this.” He just told me something that a child said. And that one thing made the difference.

One day I was in my office working on the couture collection, and there was some Grey Goose in the fridge and I was just going to get a daytime drink, and I looked and thought, “Devil, you’re not going to beat me today.” That one statement is like a tattoo. I haven’t had a drink since I realized I needed to take it day by day, but I never owned up, or was even told, “Hey, you’re a functioning alcoholic.” People have called me a crazy person, people have called me everything—but not a functioning alcoholic. And I would be drinking orange juice and Grey Goose in the morning.

There was never a public perception of you as an alcoholic. Of course everybody knows the Hennessy-on-the-red-carpet moment, but there wasn’t a perception of “Kanye West has a drinking problem.”

Right? I really grabbed the drink to be able to even go to the awards show due to the information that everyone knows now. To say, “Okay, I can handle this.”

Ye also shared his journey to becoming a born again Christian:

I want to understand the timeline of your rebirth as a Christian. Did it evolve out of Sunday Service—and can you tell me the story of the moment where you accepted Jesus?

I surrounded myself with the healing—the highest-level healing possible: singing about Jesus with my friends and family surrounding me [at Sunday Service] every single week. This was a place, contrary to popular belief about Christianity, of no judgment. I feel that the church that most people grew up on as kids had a negative environment. The greatest thing for me, as someone who’s given their life to Christ, is knowing that other people have that as an anchor and a form of healing, because you’re talking to a person that went to the hospital and back. Now you see the measured nature—being able to let the child take the driver’s seat but still be measured.

Do you attribute that to the anchor of faith?

Yes, because when you’re not in service to God, you can end up being in service to everything else. To live inside of sin, it’s going to cost you more than you can pay. You don’t want to continue to sin with no repentance. I understand that people feel that I’ve made some cultural sins. But the only real sins are the sins against God, and you don’t want to continue to sin against God.

Do you conceptualize yourself as having been born again?

I’m definitely born again.

You can read the rest of his lengthy interview here.

  Photos: Instar/Getty

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/04/15/gq-quotes-kanye-west-proudly-admits-his-first-presidential-vote-will-be-for-trump-ye-says

[runawayforthesummer]

oooh I love this meme! Alexander/J or Eliza/C?

When words aren’t enough.

–

Alexander was very aware that Father’s Day was a bullshit holiday.  He refused anyone who tried to point out some sad reason he might not like the holiday, since he didn’t like Mother’s Day either!  He didn’t even like birthday cards.  Though Eliza told him a long time ago he needed to stop saying this to people who loved him and wanted to celebrate him.

He’d let the birthday thing go, but not the Father’s Day stuff.  Eliza promised she wouldn’t buy any gifts or cards, especially since none of their kids could write a coherent sentence yet.  There would be no point.  Alexander had hundreds of their drawings, and they were beautiful and perfect and they weren’t forced to produce their art under the guise of a terrible holiday.  

Still, by the time Father’s Day rolled around, he freed himself for the day of any work.  He made breakfast, like he always did on Sundays, while Eliza drank down two cups of coffee very, very quickly and sat with Philip and Angelica at the table.  Baby Alexander, still in the tiny, newborn stage, slept in the other room.

“Philip, please lower your voice.  Your brother is sleeping,” Eliza reminded their oldest for the 300th time in the last month. 

Philip stood up and laid his head down on Eliza’s lap, pouting like a pro.  “But it’s morning, Mommy.”  Philip still had over a year until kindergarten, but he was starting to lose some of the toddler out of his voice.  Every day he sounded more and more like a little boy, rather than this weird creature only he and Eliza could understand. 

Thank God for Angelica, who was barely speaking, and baby Alex. 

Eliza pulled Philip into her lap and explained again how much sleep babies needed.  “And sometimes Mommy and Daddy need sleep too.”  Philip really enjoyed waking them up as soon as he got up every morning.  Even on Sundays. 

Alexander may have suggested a cage instead of a big boy bed. 

He brought breakfast over to the table and Philip forgot all about his constant need for attention in favor of pancakes.  Eliza dug in too, and Alexander cut Angelica’s pancakes into little pieces and helped her eat.

And this?  This was a perfect morning.  Why bother needing a dumb holiday to make this happen?  It should be happening anyway!  

After, Alexander and the older kids cuddled up on his chair to watch Face the Nation while Eliza fed Alex.  The next presidential election was over two years away, but, of course, people couldn’t stop talking about who the Democratic challenger might be.  Alexander knew.  Washington wouldn’t commit to it just yet, but Alexander knew it would be him.  And he knew that Washington would win.  He could feel it in his bones, and the work it would take made Alexander feel alive in a way working in a law firm never had. 

He tweaked his resignation letter daily, and Eliza read the new draft every night.  They were both pleased with the latest version.

But still, they waited. 

But not today.  Alexander wouldn’t let his mind go too far down the path of plans.  Not while Angelica was shriek laughing at something on the television Philip pointed out to her.  Not when Eliza came in with the baby and sat on the arm of his chair.  Running Washington made him excited, but it had nothing on his family. 

“Philip, go get Daddy’s present.”  Philip jumped off Alexander and to his backpack in the hall.

“What?”

Eliza rolled her eyes.  “They made him do it at pre-school.”

“You didn’t get one for Mother’s Day.”

“I did.  I just am the one who picks him up, so he handed it to me unceremoniously on a Friday at 1:30.”

“I’m very jealous of you.”

Philip climbed back onto Alexander’s lap and handed Alexander a folded piece of green construction paper. 

“Green for Daddy!”

Alexander kissed the top of his son’s head.  “Thank you.  I love it.”

“Open it!” 

“Philip, lower your voice,” Eliza said. 

Alexander opened it and looked at the drawing Philip had done of the two of them, as stick figures, at a baseball game.  Eliza’s dad had taken the two of them to opening day at Yankee stadium.   The figures had hats and everything and the little Philip wore a baseball glove. In some classroom aide’s handwriting at the top of the page were all Philip’s memories of his “great day with his Daddy!” 

“Is it okay?” Philip asked. 

Alexander nodded, but he couldn’t speak.  Eliza took it out of his hands before he started to cry. This little, tiny thing his kid did because some teacher told him to was making Alexander so emotional he couldn’t speak.  But his kid remembered that day.  And remembered all these things he loved about it, and loved about him. 

“It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Eliza said.  “Maybe we’ll get a frame so Daddy can put it in his office.” 

Alexander shook his head.  He wouldn’t be able to handle seeing it every day.  Especially not in front of clients. 

She smiled, soft and gentle and beautiful, and said, “Or something else.”

“Can I have it in my room?”

“Yes!  Perfect,” Alexander agreed with his kid.  Philip should be proud of his work and show it off and not make his father cry while trying to earn a living.  Perfect solution.  Perfect child. 

That night, Eliza climbed into bed.  “What are you looking at?” she asked Alexander.

He looked up from his laptop.  “Baseball tickets.” 

#fic #fluff #hamilton #modern au #prompts #thank you!

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

(1/2) Hello lately I have been confused and cowardly, Recently I was in a car with my parents and holding some money. A homeless man knocked on the window and even though I could've easily helped him, I didn't for I was afraid of judgement and i was greedy ( my parents and their friend were talking about how homeless people don't use the money in good ways anyway) I felt TERRIBLE as we drove away, and still do. Now I am again confused and cowardly regarding the incident in Charolettesville.(1/2)

(2/2) I’ve always had the philosophy not to fight hate with hate, but I believe you are right in one of your recent posts regarding the matter. I’m not very brave and I’m pretty weak, as seen with the homeless man, so this leads me to wonder how I can be brave enough to stand up for justice. How can I be brave and do what God wants by helping people. I am so afraid in this world, and I want to help but my fear gets in the way but things that are going on is too much not to help even in small way

Hello there, thanks for reaching out. You are asking some really important questions and you’re definitely not alone in having them or feeling confused or cowardly. I’m going to start by addressing your story about the homeless man and then move on to Charlottesville and how to stand up for justice.

I’ve had multiple encounters with people asking for money on the sidewalk or by walking up to my car, and some of them haunt me. There’s guilt to my memories of them, yes, but I try to focus not on that guilt but on how I can do better next time. The past is the past and we can’t change it, but we can do better in the future. 

I moved to Louisville last year from a suburb, and the people walking up to your car at a red light to ask for cash was something new to me. The first time it happened, I had nothing to give, and the rest of the day that person haunted me. I let them haunt me, because the memory inspired me to act – the next time I went driving, I put some ones and fives in my car so that I’d be ready for the next person.

The next person to knock on my window was a woman in early December, her breath coming out as fog in the cold. I gave her some money and wished her the best in the short time before the light turned green, and a few minutes after I’d driven away I thought crap. Her hands must be freezing, and I doubt she’ll use the little money she has to get gloves. I should have given her the gloves I was wearing. She and her frozen hands haunt me still, even now that it’s mid-August. And I am glad for the haunting – there’s the occasional twinge of guilt but I transform it into a resolve to be better.

The most recent person to ask me for some money was on the sidewalk of Charlotte, North Carolina. I was recovering from top surgery that week and had been praying for small opportunities to pay back how I’d been blessed – this could have been the perfect chance but I only had a credit card, no cash, on me. So that man haunts me too; and only just this morning I thought of how I should have, could have helped him, what I should have said: “Hello, I’m sorry I don’t have any cash on me, but my girlfriend and I are walking to a restaurant right now. If you like, you can either tell us what you’d want from their and we’ll bring it back to you here, or you can come with us and eat with us.”

So he haunts me and will continue to haunt me and again, I thank God for these ghosts in my memory, reminding me that I have so much to do to become a better follower of Jesus in the world. You had you past moment and it haunts you – how will you be ready for future moments? 

So that addresses the guilt about the moments you’ve missed the chance to help someone. But what about the question of whether you should give homeless people money at all? Because I’m sure it’s true that some of them spend the money in ways you wouldn’t want. I have several responses to that.

1) Give them something instead of money. I have some classmates who carry granola bars in their car so that when someone comes to their window, they can offer food instead of cash. I’ve heard of people who make care packages in ziplock bags with things like bandaids and toothbrushes and quarters that they hand out too.You can also do the whole “I’m about to go in X store / restaurant, is there something I can buy you” or if it’s cold, have gloves or a hat ready to give them. And I wish to God I could get over my anxiety and shyness and give them some conversation, because that’s a gift too and one a lot of people who sit/stand on the sidewalk all day sorely want.

2) Give them money and know it might not go towards what you want but hey, once it’s their money it’s out of your hands. And if it’s cold and they buy whiskey or some cigarettes, they may just be trying to survive the cold buy ingesting something warm. We are called to help how we can, not to judge. I suppose you might also talk to them, be like “I’m hoping you’ll use this cash to buy some food, but I understand it’s out of my control.” They may listen! 

3) Because yeah, the argument many people give that “all” or “most” people asking for money spend it on bad things, or that they got themselves into this mess through addiction so why help them …. are pretty loveless arguments. Statistically, a good number of “panhandlers” are supporting children or others. 

Now, it’s also important to keep yourself safe. Don’t stop your car and pull down your window on a dark / deserted street to talk to someone, or invite someone to eat with you if you’re alone and don’t think you could defend yourself against them if needed. Be loving, but be smart too. 

And it sounds like you still live with your parents – it may be hard sometimes to help folks when they’re around. I was the same way, when my parents and I would go into the city and there’d be people on the sidewalks asking for money – my parents always said something if I stopped to give them even just loose change. So often I wouldn’t, just to avoid those comments. It’s up to you whether you have the money to spare as well as whether you’re able to give it around your parents without harm to you. Giving a smile, acknowledging the person exists, is a good thing too. And you’ve got time to help, and other ways to help – such as volunteering at a food pantry or giving money to such a place, if you can. 

Now on to the next topic. 

To expand a little on my opposition to the “don’t fight hate with hate” comments many people make, my main frustration with such comments (or “there’s been violence on both sides!” etc.) is that they derail the conversation. We need to be focusing on how to help the side that, like, doesn’t have nazis and white supremacists on it, rather than policing their tactics.

It’s not that I’m a fan of hate or anything, but too often the frustration and fear of the oppressed is raised up to be “just as bad” as what the oppressors or doing – despite the fact that the oppressors have way more power to actually act on hatred, to be violent without consequence. In Charlottesville, for example, some counter-protestors maced nazis and pushed nazis around. Meanwhile, the nazis waved torches in people’s faces, also used mace and pushed people around, and got multiple people hospitalized, beat at least one Black man near to death, and killed a person. And yet there are people on Facebook who don’t talk about that, about the ideologies of the nazis that want everyone who’s not white to disappear from our country….they talk about how “both sides” had some violence and spread the platitude of fighting hate with love. It doesn’t help, it doesn’t do anything but make the oppressed feel unheard. 

And on to your desire to fight for justice but worry that fear will stop you. It’s okay to be scared. Seriously. It doesn’t make you a coward. So many of us are terrified right now for various reasons. Don’t be ashamed of your fear, but bring it to God and pray for courage to work through the fear. Brainstorm ways to work past the fear in advance, because in the heat of the moment the fear will probably win out if you don’t have a plan to combat it. 

If you’re a white person, it is our job to confront racism when we see or hear it among other white people. This is hard. It’s not fun. Especially when it’s racism from our parents or siblings or friends. If speaking out would put you in real danger -- such as if your parents would hurt you for doing so (emotional abuse counts) -- then it’s okay not to talk to them. Keep safe!! But when you have the emotional energy and it’s safe to do so, find ways to call people out. Comment on someone’s racist status on Facebook that no, their view is not okay. Or make your own posts sharing people of color’s tweets or articles about what’s going on -- even if it means a lot of people are going to comment obnoxious crap on them. Even if you don’t have the words or the answers when people try to argue with you, you saying something will show people of color and other marginalized groups who see your comment that there are people on their side.

Another great thing to do that’s more private is to message individuals. Reach out to any friends of color, Jewish folks, LGBTQ folks you know and let them know that if they need someone to vent to you’re there, or to know that you’re thinking of them and they’re not alone. This takes courage in its own way. Some of them may not respond at all, some may respond with a quick thanks or looking for real conversation. Whatever they answer, it will help at least some of them. We all need reminders that we’re not alone right now. 

If you are old enough to vote, vote! Not just in the big elections. And call or write your representatives; if you google for information on how to do so in your state you’ll find lots of resources, including scripts you can read from. 

It’s really important to be listening to people of color right now and raising their voices; to listen to Jewish people and raise their voices, to LGBTQ people and disabled people and so on and raise their voices. So listen, share. Educate yourself. You’ll hear ways to help. 

And when the fear keeps you from doing something you know you should do, it’s okay. Acknowledge the guilt you feel and bring it to God with prayers to transform it into future action. How can you learn from past mistakes to do better now? 

To close this long thing, I’ve got a prayer for you.

God of Justice,This person has glimpsed your call to support the oppressed and to lift them up, but they are enwrapped in so much fear. Be with them. Let them know their fear is human, that it’s okay. Ease their guilt, their anxiety, and transform them, God. Let them learn to focus not on human judgment and arguments but on the need to fight for justice. As they begin to make small steps towards that, may it get easier for them. Send your Spirit of courage to inspire and motivate them, and your Spirit of understanding and right judgment to help them realize that love is often loud. As they seek to do your will, may this prayer sing in their heart: Make me your instrument of justice, God. Make me your instrument of justice. Amen. 

If anyone has more to add to this, please do!

#anon #queerly christian asks #homelessness #activism #social justice #nazism mention #white supremacy #nazis #long post

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Precipice Chapter 1: Stay Here Long

Okie dokie loki here it is! The first chapter of my first full length multi-chapter fic! This is what happened after that ficlet I posted awhile back.

Enjoy!

Word count: 2541

Prologue Chapter 2

Stanford Pines was used to losing track of time when he was engaged in something.  So when he looked up from the book he was re-reading for the first time in thirty years and checked the time, he wasn’t that surprised to see that he had missed the debate that was being televised.  And yet, he was saddened by it.  He had actually been looking forward to seeing how Stanley did in the election.  From what Stanford had heard, it seemed like Stan was doing very well in the polls, thanks to Dippers quick thinking and Stanford's own invention.  Ford was glad that Dipper had come to him for advice, and he was glad that Dipper had been able to convince Stan to let him help.

Ford stood and stretched, muscles tight from being in the same position for so many hours.  Checking the time again, Ford was surprised that Stan and the kids weren't back yet.  The alarms he had wired the house with years ago were still intact, (they were one of the first things Ford checked up on when he got back), and should alert him when any of the doors or windows are opened-ah, there it went.  A flashing light and an audible ding from one of the consoles lining the room told him that someone had just used the front door.

Ford ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it look like he hadn’t spent the whole day his nose in a book; Stanley would never let him hear the end of it.  As the elevator rose, Ford wondered how his brother had done.  Although, he probably wouldn’t hear from Stanley if the election went well or not.  But he could count on Dipper to tell him.  Mabel would probably be dying to give him a play-by-play breakdown of the entire debate, albeit one probably embellished with more glitter and puppies than were actually there.  Ford chuckled softly to himself as he envisioned his niece and nephews charm and enthusiasm.  They were good kids, and Ford was grateful to have been able to meet them.  And he was hoping to be able to have them visit him again next summer, after he had dealt with the rift and gotten rid of all of the Mystery Shack garbage cluttering up his house and settled out all of the legal matters of Stanley living under his-had Stan used his name for the election?

The ding of the elevator reaching the top floor drowned out Ford's sigh.  He would really have a lot of trouble getting his life back from Stan, wouldn’t he?  Ah well, it’s not like that was anything new.  Ford would just have to do what he did and Backupsmore, what he did for thirty years in the portal: knuckle down, work harder, and find that solution he needed.

Ford may have been surprised at his own inability to keep track of time, but he was very surprised at the silence that greeted him as he opened the door behind the vending machine.  No place could ever be quiet if his family was around, and Ford knew for a fact that the first thing he should have heard after coming up from the basement was Stanley either crowing about his victory or commiserating his defeat, just like he would after a boxing match when they were kids.

Instead, all Ford heard was silence.

Wait, not silence.  Ford could hear footsteps, quick and light in the upstairs portion of the home.  Footsteps that were now coming down the stairs.

Ford's hand drifted towards the blaster mounted at his hip, but kept from pulling it out when he saw who the intruder was.  Red hair trailing and arms laden with his family's positions, Stanley's teenage cashier, Dan Corduroy’s daughter, brushed past Ford on her way to the kitchen.  What was her name?

Ford followed her into the kitchen, “Excuse me.”  He said, put out and confused by the girls behavior-was she stealing from his family?- “May I ask what you’re doing?”

“Hmm? Oh, Stan two, good.”  She said , not seeming to have noticed him before  “I thought I was going to have to pull the vending machine out of the wall.  Here, hold these.”  She dumped the items she was holding onto Ford, and he scrambled to keep from dropping any of them.  For some reason, the Corduroy girl had grabbed a change of clothes for both Dipper and Mabel,  an odd-looking support pillow, a mystery novel with a chewed-on pen acting as a bookmark, a plush unicorn that lit up and begged Ford to buy it’s accessories when he accidentally squeezed it, several colorful balls of yarn and knitting needles in three different sizes, and several books on neurology Ford was positive he had never seen in the house before.

“What on earth-“ Ford started to say

“M’kay dude, since you’re still here, I’m guessing that you didn’t watch the debate at all did you?”  Dan’s daughter said as she pulled large amounts of packaged junk food out of the pantry.  As Ford watched, she seemed to make package after package of cookies, candy, and chips vanish in front of him, tucking them away under her hat or up her sleeve or who knows where.

“Well I- no- you see- ugh, what is going on?”  Ford fumbled as some of the items in his grip shifted and started to slip.

The girl walked towards the front door.  “Long story short, your family is in the hospital dude.”  She said it with such casual ease that it seemed more like a statement about the weather or a sports team.  Fords heart skips a beat.  “I got sent here to grab some stuff, drag you out of the basement, and bring you over.  Now come on, it’s a half an hour to get to the nearest hospital.”  The door rings as she pushes her way out.

Ford stands frozen for a moment before charging after her “Hey!”  He shoulders the door open, making the screen door rattle and the glass quake in its frames.  “What do you mean ‘they’re in the hospital?  What happened?”

“There was an accident at the election.  I don’t know all of the details, though, I was just sent to get this stuff.”  Dan’s daughter pulls open the driver's side door to a strange blue car, leaving Ford to clamber into the passenger seat, thankfully without dropping anything.

A pop and the smell of ozone draws his attention to the Corduroy girl, who had a bundle of wires in each fist.  Muttering under her breath, she touched them together, and the car roared to life.

As the car roughly pulled away from the Myster-ahem, Ford’s home, his mind spirals with questions.  In a slight daze, he voices the first one that he can

           "Who's car is this?" No, that's not what he wants to know.

           "Does it matter?"  The girl huffs

           "No."  Ford tries to voice his actual question, ask what he really wants to know, but the words die in his throat, choked by a fear he hadn't felt in a while. Ford desperately wants to ask about his family, are the kids okay what happened who hurt them was Bill behind this how could Stanley let them get hurt, but actually saying the words felt sealing their fate.  Asking would mean finding out just how badly they were hurt, would mean solidifying this twisted nightmare into a reality. So he sat in silence as the girl drove them to the hospital with little concern for the rules of the road.

A little over halfway to the hospital, a buzz comes from the girls pocket, startling Ford into squeezing the unicorn again.  He gives the small plush a distasteful glare, before looking up at the Corduroy girl.  She was speaking into one of those cellular phone devices that Mabel had been trying to explain to him the other day.  Fords heart clenched as he thought of his niece, her wide-eyed excitement and incredibly bright smile, and a million things that could have happened to her and her brother racing through his head before the Corduroy girl snapped her cellular device closed and spoke.

“That was Soos.  The doctor said that Dipper and Mabel will be fine, just some scrapes and bruises, a sprained wrist and a dislocated shoulder between them.”  Her voice was tight as she spoke.  

Ford lets out an audible sigh, most of his worry disappointed.  He wouldn’t be satisfied until he was with his niece and nephew and could see their injuries for himself, but for now that would suffice.  A spark of anger flared in place of the worry.  How, Ford wondered did this happen? After all that talk about wanting to keep the kids out of danger, about me being dangerous, could he let them get hurt?  “How could Stanley have let this happen?”

“Dude, are you flippin’ kidding me?”  The Corduroy girl snapped at Ford.  He snapped his mouth shut with an audible ‘click’ as he looks over at her.  He didn’t realize he had said that last part out loud.  “Stan didn’t just ‘let this happen’, he would never let anything happen to Dipper and Mabel!”  The car skidded as they took a corner that they almost missed going faster than they should have been.

Ford was taken aback by the teens outburst and driving, but recovered quickly, cheeks heating up at being reprimanded by a girl who couldn’t be older than sixteen.  “Well, he seemed to let quite a lot happen to them over this summer from what the children have told me.  Hordes of the undead, gargantuan robots, dinosaurs for crying out loud!”  Ford waved a hand through the air as he spoke, counting the dangers as he listed them “He told me not to endanger the kids, and yet how many times have Dipper and Mabel, and the entire town even been out in jeopardy because of Stanley’s reckless and selfish actions? And on top of all that-”  The car jerked to a stop, and Ford was thrown against the seat belt.  The strap bit into his chest and stomach, cutting him off mid rant.  Despite the sudden pain, Ford was actually grateful for the interruption; he had almost told this rash teenager about the Rift.  He mentally reprimanded himself for letting his anger get the best of him.  It isn’t her fault that this happened.  This girl must have some loyalty to Stanley, even if it doesn’t extend beyond him signing her paychecks.  She isn’t the one you’re angry with.  Save it for Stanley.

“Selfish?”  The venom dripping from her tone gave Ford pause.  When he looked over at the girl he gripped the items in his lap tighter to keep from reaching for his blaster.  I’ve been cornered by bounty hunters that look less terrifying than her.  Her fists clenched, and she opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more, but all that came out was a disgusted snarl.  In one fluid movement, she scooped the items out of Ford's grasp.  With a curt “We’re here.”  She kicked the car door opened and slammed it shut behind her.  The force of it made the car rock, and Ford was surprised none of the windows shattered.

He sat in shock for a moment, letting his fight-or-flight response dissipate as he processed what just happened.  What did I say?  Ford wondered, before realizing he was in a car that was most likely stolen and that the thief had left him in it.  Ford quickly headed to the hospital, only thinking to lock the car as he stepped into the lobby.

He made it maybe ten feet into the hospital before nearly being knocked to the ground as two small forces crashed into him.  Slim arms wrapped around his waist, and he looked down into two sets of watery brown eyes.

“Grunkle Ford!”

“Great-uncle Ford!”

Two shaky voices filled his ears, and he dropped to his knees to see his niblings better.  “Kids!”  Dippers wrist was in a brace and his hat was missing.  Mabel’s campaign sweater was torn and tied around her waist, and  one of her arms was in a sling.  They were battered and bruised, but they were whole.  They were safe.  Ford wrapped his arms around them pulling them close and minding their injuries, pure relief and joy swelling in him.  Mabel sat on his knee and buried her face in his chest.  Dipper wrapped his arms around Ford, desperately clinging to his clothes like a burr.  Hot anger flared again, curdling the cool satisfaction of having his niblings safe and in his arms.  Stanley how could you let these two get hurt?

“I am so relieved you two are alright.”  Ford said into their hair.  He pulled back out of the hug a little so he could look them in the eyes.  They had both been crying, faces stained with tear trails and smudged dirt, and tears still leaked from Mabels eyes. And Stanley was nowhere to be found.  How dare he leave them alone in this state!  “Where’s Stanley?”  Ford tried his best to keep the bite out of his voice.  He hoped he had the self control to take Stanley somewhere the children couldn’t see before giving Stanley the berating he deserved.  

Ford wasn’t expecting the responses from the children that he got.

Mabel let out a pitiable wail, throwing herself back into Ford's arms, fresh tears streaming down her face and onto Fords sweater.  Dippers lip trembled as he tried to speak, only to follow his sister's lead and bury himself back in Ford's arms.  

The feeling of dread stirred in Ford's gut again, this time sharper and harder.  He looked up from the children to the man-child handyman -Zeus?- and the cashier girl who had been standing by and watching the three Pines’s.  Zeus's shoulders trembled, and Ford saw that his eyes were just as red as the children's, and the Corduroy girl was standing ramrod straight, fists clenched at her sides.  “Where is Stanley?”  Ford said it with more urgency, panic filling his voice, eyes darting back and forth between the four people around him, wordlessly pleading for an answer.

The Corduroy girl turns, snatching something off of a small table behind her before turning back to face Ford.  There's a look in her eyes that Ford can’t place - sorrow or pity with something he can not place woven through it- and she slowly held out a pair of square glasses with thick black lenses.  Ford almost thought that they were Stan’s glasses, but then he saw that one lenses had a spiderweb crack marring it.  They couldn’t be Stan’s glasses.

Ford snatches the glasses that most definitely are not Stanley’s out of the girls hand, catching his scattered reflection in the carefully polished lenses.

“Dr Pines,” The Corduroy girl spoke, her voice hitched slightly.  When Ford looked back up at her, he saw unshed tears hanging in her eyes, small cracks in her collected facade.  Her voice is quiet, as if she doesn’t want to hear what she’s saying  “Stan is still in surgery.”

#gravity falls #ford pines #grunkle ford #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez #dipper pines #mabel pines #angst #stangst #y'all thought i killed Stan #didn't you? #MADE YA LOOK! #precipice au

[musesoftheminds]

Survival of the Fittest. 6X01 Scandal Reviews

Oh scandal, I have missed you. This year and last year have been a roller coaster and a actual nightmare and I have missed scandal dearly. This was a solid episode, that really grew on me. We are aware that flashbacks will take center stage this season. And we will see the characters move from the present back to the past on the campaign. Lots of questions and theories rolling in my head but Scandal starts this season off nicely while letting the audience in on some of the things we have missed in our absence. 

Olivia Pope:

It was nice to see a familiar person that I have missed dearly, Olivia came back to the light if only for a minute it was still nice to see that she is still in their wrestling with her demons.  We start the episode off on election night, stakes are high and the energy is somewhat subdued but you can see that this election has been a very close race from start to finish. Olivia makes a statement for everyone to vote if they haven’t yet and then Mellie mentions San Benito…oh snaps. Defiance is never dead, another close race with one county that will declare the winner. It's like they say, History repeats itself.  But then Fitz walked in and said they are up by 2,000 votes in that county but then Olivia turns to look at Jake, I suppose to either gather his reaction from the statement and also to show that Vanessa now drinks

What the hell has Pete Harris done now besides be the most irrelevant person in the fictional universe oh and also low down dead beat piece of crap. Crap has happened to make Vanessa start drinking but I’m curious if Jake made her start drinking or did something despicable cause ole girl is a straight up lush. And you know how the story goes Jake going to disappear when he literally has one job which is be to ornamental and he can't even do that right. *sips tea* Jake is a part of Vargas's murder with good olé dad and let me just say that when Fitz noticed and called Jake out on coming late to a freaking national crisis, the national crisis... uh yeah he up to no good.

 When Olivia heard Fitz say he got off the phone with the mayor of San Benito and that they were in the lead by 2,000 votes; she knew that wasn’t true and needed to get confirmation by her gladiators, and look whose there with that information- Charlie who has now joined OPA since I don’t see Marcus anywhere in sight. And don't think I'm not watching Charlie either. Anyways.

Charlie makes a reference to that large lead and Olivia knew right there that they lost, and much to my surprise and delight. Olivia quickly conceded and seemed completely at ease with losing though it was a painful loss to have.

Now, that’s what I’m talking about!  That is my girl ! Fuck this presidency and go find the real to key to eternal power and happiness cause it springs internally. Olivia wasn’t being crazy like she was in season 5 which tells me that Olivia has been working on some of her issues. And that it’s okay to fail if you did the best you could.

 And Olivia did her best.

She refused Rowan’s help who would have promised her the Oval because Olivia wanted to earn this on her own and from what I am seeing she didn’t want to fix another election. Progress.

The ex-lady gang couldn't stand to be around people or watch the polls coming declaring Vargas the winner, so they sequestered themselves in a bathtub sharing a bottle of wine together but it was nice to see Olivia say sorry for not winning though she promised Mellie the Oval. Mellie talks to Olivia and tells her feelings and appreciation for her help and it is a nice moment between these two people who have such history with each other. Olivia didn’t need to apologize but it was nice to hear… speaking of ‘sorry’ Olivia has been using that one word more in this one episode then she has in a complete season.

Deep inhale people, what’s that smell? *sniff* smells like remorse with a hint of mint.

Oh Baby girl. I don't  know if Iyanla came and fixed her life but something happened to make Olivia aware of who she was becoming and I am here for this awareness.

But then Vargas got shot.  And I knew Vargas would die just like most of you but man he would have done some good in this fictional realm. There needs to be a good guy but like scandal shows the good guys either die or become corrupt, fortunately Susan got out with her soul intact; does anyone miss Susan cause I do. Any who. Instead of Olivia just letting that old man die a miserable life she has to go to see him and point that finger at him when she knows good well he will flip the script and make her issues the problem that needs fixing.

 The progress we just saw in Olivia shattered in a matter of seconds.

I’m so tired of Rowan and taking his joy in fucking up his own species so he can remain hierarchy and ruler of them all. I want to rip his mole off. Ugh. But while Rowan is ruler of all evil he also spits truth bombs though he’s projecting.

“I am not a predator. I am smart prey.”

Nah, you are the freaking predator but Rowan wasn’t lying when he said he wants to help his “own species” *cough Jake* *cough Olivia* but *double cough himself*. That should have told Olivia right there that Rowan has his finger on that trigger. Cause if anyone knows anything now it is that Rowan loves Rowan.

So Olivia just going to forget that ‘dad’ did this same psycho bullshit last time when it came to her helping Edison, how he manipulated her and he just told her in his tirade monologue that “she is weak” and that she “let’s everybody in”.

Girl, Olivia wake up. Don’t fall for it. But we know it. It’s too late; Olivia has once again fallen in daddy’s trap as he lays out his plans 

“for the ultimate predator.” 

 Olivia is a shark smelling blood. And dad is her trigger. I found it interesting though that when Olivia went to the White House to find out if Vargas is dead she purposely seeks Marcus for answers and tells him a lie that even she can barely muster "come on, Marcus...were friends." This causes Marcus to pause and turn around and look at Olivia but before answering, Marcus wanted to know how Mellie is doing...I'm willing to bet that Olivia has found out about them and probably put a stop to it but nevertheless Olivia answers and Marcus tells Olivia that they aren't friends because "your Olivia Pope." And ladies and gentlemen he didn't mean it as a compliment either and when Olivia went to the hospital to see Cyrus she said "I'm Olivia Pope." And the thing about it is that her name  that once carried such power and weight means nothing now. It was Abby who gave Olivia access in an area that she used to run. Abby has surpassed Olivia, it's no longer Olivia's name who everyone knows and fears, but Abby is making a name for herself and not afraid to flaunt her power when needed.That was a tough pill to swallow for me personally because Olivia prided herself on that name and now it means nothing. I hope that moment doesn’t way too heavily on Olivia because she's needs to look in instead of looking out.

The second Olivia got what she needed she ran up to the residence and finds Mellie playing with Teddy. Did anyone catch Olivia looking at Teddy, yes she was waiting for him to leave the room but there was something else there that caught my attention and clearly Olivia’s but the moment was over in a blink of an eye.

The once harmonized duo appear to have hit a rough patch as Olivia is once again power hungry thanks to dad but Mellie isn’t having it: after all she sees what happened to Vargas could have happened to her not to mention Jerry died and Fitz got shot and she lost her marriage here in the White House. But Olivia was like.

I think Mellie thought that she was running the show and Olivia had to check her like she did ol’joker and say she ain’t done running so you better fix that wig and grab them pearls cause Olivia has to prove dad that she is better and more powerful than them all. *sigh*

But at the end of the episode when Olivia gave Cyrus that hug and whispered in his ear; she knows what he did. Goosebumps covered my skin because while Olivia is now on this quest for answers; I am hoping and believing this will lead Olivia back to the light. Back to her core values, back to her white hat.

 Olitz:

 Oh what sweet joy thou has brought to my soul. Olivia and Fitz are not together  but their is this sense of calm and peace that surrounds Olivia when she finds herself alone with him. The comfort familiarity of these two souls finally in each other’s orbit after such a long departure has my heart swooning with a sense of nostalgia. I am excited about watching Olivia and Fitz whose lives have gone in completely different directions seem to have met once again at this familiar intersection. In five seasons our hearts have been broken and healed by their connection which is their sacred vow, granted there has been circuits and shortages but finally it appears as though Olivia and Fitz have moved forward in their relationship towards a more promising and satisfying note. 

 Friendship. 

 We know much has transpired for these two to be able to talk to one another again and not feeling the griping hole of their uncoupling. Surprisingly for some but not to me, Olivia and Fitz are comfortable in one another’s presences. Theirs no awkwardness or intimidation But genuine ease and peace. Fitz excited about Mellie winning grabs a glass of scotch and hands it to Olivia because Olivia is still the person he wants to celebrate with and the thing about it, is that their was no jealously surrounding them. Fitz was proud of Olivia and her would be accomplishment. This moment is a reminder of their beautiful bond that they still share.

 They say heavy is the head that wears the crown. And for Olivia her head had grown quite tired of the added weight and pressure. Overwhelmed by the loss, Olivia seeks solitude just for a moment to catch her own bearings but guess who notices her absence almost immediately.

  I know some were waiting to hear the ‘light’ an were disappointed but I wasn’t and I was relieved that it wasn’t because that moment wasn’t the time for them. The light is their song that is often played when they come together or have reunited after being without the other for so long, that wouldn’t have been the right time but nevertheless the moment is easily etched on both of their faces when they find themselves back in this familiar place with their souls merging together to create this moment that has always been made for two.

Fitz, knew he had to go find Olivia, and while I was annoyed at first that he didn’t pay attention to Olivia’s own fall and request of time. It finally registered what Olivia was saying to him. This is the second time that Olivia has articulated her desire for a minute. 

 It wasn’t the action itself that made my chest tightened but the look between these two people who are able to communicate without words. Olivia can't manage eye contact, it's seems impossible for her to look at the one person who knows you in a way that leaves you completely vulnerable and Fitz does. He sees Olivia and Fitz knowing what Olivia needs grants her that request and with a heavy sigh Olivia’s head falls on Fitz knowing that he would be steady and strong as the weight she’s carrying transfers over to him. And like the man he is, Fitz doesn’t waiver.  It wasn’t a minute but it was exactly what Olivia needed to remind herself that she’s okay.

 When Olivia came to see Fitz after running to the hospital to catch cyrus and ended up seeing him completely in shock at watching Vargas get shot. Olivia went to the White House and apologized for wasting Fitz’s time and Olivia was vocal about her feelings of shame and embarrassment, how she wanted to believe that Cyrus was guilty and she told all of this to Fitz. Fitz listened to her express her fears and regrets and even heard her sincere apology. And then Fitz also expressed his feelings and how he wanted Olivia to be right since she always is…..pump your brakes Fitz, Olivia is not always right, hell she hasn’t been right in a long time including yalls break up so you need to chill on this statement cause it ain’t a fact. *fixes shirt* now as Olivia and Fitz converse and expresses their feelings; Fitz admits that he doesn’t want to steal another election and we know per Olivia’s conversation with Rowan that she too didn’t want her dad to fix the election. It seems both of them are trying to be better people and learn from past mistakes. It’s never too late to change. Progress isnt always a straight line but it matters not how you start the race but how you finish it.

I can’t wait for these flashbacks because to see Olivia and Fitz grow as individuals and to admit their setbacks and hopes, leaves me feeling more hopeful of their possible reunion.

Fitz:

  Oh sweet baby Fitz. Let me say that when we last saw Fitz in season 5, he had grown and appears to be coming into his own. But this episode really showcased his Presidential power. It’s evident that Fitz has been working with Olivia on Mellie’s campaign but it’s wonderful to see him in the fold and out of the White House for a minute. Fitz was the man of the hour, he made sure to comfort both the most important women’s in his life but also to lead and show courage and strength in the face of a crisis. Mellie and Fitz’s conversation was one of the highlights of the episode. It finally dawns on Mellie that she has completely misjudged Fitz, and the White House. All along she thought he was stealing her joy and taking the view away from her until she realizes

 “there is no view, We are the view.”

The Oval- the White House; it’s all an elaborate illusion to showcase power when in truth like papa pope said:

“power is never lost”.

 The White House never made Fitz powerful but the beauty of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant is that while others may find him weak due to his benevolent nature and lack of power seeking. That is were his strength and power comes from. Being consciously aware of the power and lives at stake is not lost on him. When he had to deny Vargas’s widow the opportunity to call her children because had to make sure that America was safe and wasn’t vulnerable to an attack, shows that while he is making that transition to leave office he is still the President and all orders must go through him.

We have lost Obama and now we about to lose Fitz. Granted he won’t be leaving office until probably later in the season….my heart ain’t ready to see that beautiful specimen walk out them doors and onto Air Force One. And when Olivia asked Fitz for time to prove Cyrus guilty and he told her until morning she said she needed more time and he didn’t back down to her.

That man made me feel things in my undercarriage and the way Olivia had shut up an nodded her head told me she respected Fitz’s answer. Something she would have never done before. This is growth people. Fitz is still in love with Olivia but it doesn’t jeopardize his duty to the republic and Olivia sees that now and respects him.

 On the Truman balcony when Fitz and Mellie were talking, that was one of their truest conversations but what showed growth from both parties was their awareness; Mellie becoming aware of what she is asking for with becoming President and what she remembers happening last time: Jerry dying, Fitz getting shot, losing her marriage, suddenly feeling the doors closing in on her and it's there that Mellie sees she was jealous of Fitz, he never wanted to be President and he never craved the power that came with it but Fitz respond with the perfect answer  that he's not a good guy and that he's always had power because his name is "Fitzgerald Thomas Grant" interesting that both Olivia and Fitz use their names in reference to measuring their power. The difference between the two is that one knows their power and their worth while the other is looking to create a name for themselves and find their voice and power. Fitz is making so proud and I can’t wait to follow his own journey of self acceptance and no longer needing anyone to tell him how to do his job.

Interesting Views:

The lack of music in this episode, even Olivia and Fitz's theme song when they sat down was different.

Marcus is now Press Secretary, something Olivia has done in the past and my bet, Olivia has something to with Marcus getting the boot from OPA.

I think Cyrus has something to do with Vargas getting shot but I don't believe he orchestrated the entire thing cause we know Rowan and Petey still out there trying to save their own 'species' and I’m still watching Charlie.

Curious to see how Mellie ended up in the Navy shirt, and before y'all start going crazy- it’s a different shirt and it’s just a sign that Mellie and Fitz are close once again. Nothing scandalous about them but Mellie quickly opened her mouth and told Fitz she still wanted the oval though she just told him how bad it was.

I honestly chuckled at Olivia’s confused face about what’s going on with Quinn and Charlie, curious how this news will affect her.

I loved this episode and excited to see how it plays out and where do all these people go from here.

Until Next Time....Muse.

#scandal #olivia pope #olitz #olivia and fitz #season 6