#a case could be made for wirt. but in my heart he is.

[veveisveryuncool]

when The Character looks like this:

#AND theyre all queer can you believe that #a case could be made for wirt. but in my heart he is. #wow look at all these transgender people #otgw wirt #over the garden wall #snufkin #moomins #moominvalley #GUYS I KNOW SNUFKIN IS CANONICALLY LIKE 2 FT TALL GIMME A SEC #ralsei #deltarune #siffrin #isat #in stars and time #alfur aldric #hilda alfur #hilda the series #veves ultra cool art #lemme know if you know any other characters!!

[overthegravityfalls]

Bodies and Beasts

Hey, so, this fic I mentioned off-hand 5 years ago?

I finished it!

...Better late than never?

(please heed the warnings)

Rating: E Word count: 4,300 Pairing(s): Bipper/Beast!Wirt, Bill Cipher/The Beast Summary: "Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour. “Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.” “Oh?” The Beast tilts his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does. Warnings: Main Character Death, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gore, Cannibalism, Coerced Suicide, Child Death, Torture, Unhappy Ending, Self-Mutilation Read on AO3 here

There is a body in the woods. He discovers it on a day when the air is cold, despite the brightness of the sun. In another time, he would have receded into the deepest, darkest parts of his domain in such conditions, but he no longer needs to be so closely tied to the night and shadow; now, the plainness of day could serve him just as well.

The body reminds him of his own still-new form: made of flesh, bones, skin. Teenaged, brown-haired, slim. It is more similar to him than he realises at first.

It lies there motionless until he approaches it. When he leans down, its eyes open wide, and he can see through them that the being inside it is not one who belongs. The amalgam grins, and it continues to grin even as he wraps his hands around its neck and clenches hard. Such a body can usually be coerced into becoming a part of his forest, with muscle and intent being just as effective as the deceit and patience he was once limited to, but this one seems to warrant a different approach. It seems to enjoy the ministrations he is putting it through. Unconcerned, his fingers twitch and their grip loosens; he comes to a stand. After all, his lantern is still burning strong from that younger brother's oil, as little as his Edelwood tree had been; and he has, too, a heart within him which beats black around his body.

"Don't they teach you manners in this plane of existence?"

He stares at the being with white, narrowed orbs.

"As it happens, you're actually not that far off from what I want from you. But an introduction wouldn't hurt, pal! Here, look. Name: Bill Cipher, occupation: this kid's flesh sack. See how easy that was? Haven't even tried to strangle you yet!" It—he—rubs a hand across his neck and bares his teeth again in a facsimile of a smile.

"How did you come by that vessel and to my woods?"

'Bill Cipher,' as he calls himself, sits up, putting his weight on his forearms. He watches closely in case Cipher tries to do anything as unpredictable as his nature seems to be. "Oh, me and Pine Tree go way back. Introduced him to an awesome apocalypse before he and his family had to go and ruin everything." His voice lowers, and his face contorts into a scowl at those words, but, like lightening, it passes in an instant. He brings himself to his feet and dusts himself off, then meets his eyes. "Take it from me, do not wish on Shooting Stars, no matter what people tell you.

"Buuuut I'm getting sidetracked here. Point is, he was mine to control a few years ago, and after all those difficulties he and his family caused, I thought a little payback was in order. That annoying little pest took his time in dropping his guard--honestly, had more forms of protection than a Trojan factory! —but my waiting paid off. Eventually, he awakened my statue. Curiosity killed the cat, am I right? And so, here I am!" Cipher does a little flourish with his hands, and he notices that his white sleeves are stained heavily with red. “Now, you wanna introduce yourself, Beast boy?”

“…You know me. Therefore, you know that the Unknown is my domain. Those that enter shall become part of my forest. No matter how long it takes,” the Beast says, his eyes glowing with colour as he remembers the thrill of finding the brothers in his woods again. They had carried freezing water in their lungs ever since their fateful journey, and it had dragged them back to the forest from a pair of white-sheet beds. One to bear his weakened being, one to fuel his flickering soul. He blinks, his eyes white again.

“You got a bit of personality in there, huh? Yeah, yeah, I know you—got my mitts in all sorts of dimensions. The Unknown is a funny name for Purgatory, but, whatever. Just thought you could be polite about it, you know?”

He cares not for how much this being talks. Underneath all of the blabber, he wonders what he means to gain by coming here. If he thinks he can saunter out, he is mistaken. “You are… intriguing, but your vessel is still young enough; here, it will remain,” the Beast says, his voice soft.

“Oh, don’t worry, pal, this flesh-sack can spend an eternity here. He’s already suffered a punishing fate in his physical reality, but I am not satisfied with just making him kill himself and leaving all of those Pines heartbroken. You can have him. All I’m asking is to have a little fun with it first.”

“Oh?” the Beast says, tilting his head, feeling the weight of his antlers as he does.

“He’s in here. With me. Pine Tree. First time around, I kicked him out, but now, we’re roomies in this here head of teen angst. And hoo boy, he is not happy about it. See, I love pain, and I love how much squishy and breakable stuff is inside these gross human bodies. It’s hilarious! I had to rush through everything in the physical realm, but now…” Cipher grins so wide it looks like it could split his face in two. “I can take my time in torturing him. Care to explore with me, Beast?”

He follows along well enough with the story this demon tells, as strangely as he tells it, and his ideas stir something sadistic in him. He wonders, though, “Why would you simply dispose of the body when you could utilise it, Bill Cipher?” He himself enjoyed that shadow of consciousness within him and the empty, hollow sadness and regret it emitted. Wirt’s emotions had burned through his being initially, as heated as the fire of the lantern, but once the Edelwood branches were all ash, the boy gave himself fully to the Beast. There was nothing else he could do.

“Eugh, when I take over the world, it will be with my equilateral perfection. No, no, the slow torture and crash course in forestry will do just fine for Pine Tree—or should I say Pine-Edelwood Tree?”

“You should not.”

“You’re right, let’s just get on with it. Here, I have something that’ll help,” he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a knife coated with red.

The Beast plucks it from his hand, running his slim fingers along the flat steel. He taps on the point and a pinprick of black blood swells from his digit. “Yes, this will do nicely.”

“Why don’t I just lie back and think of England?” the demon says with a wink. He spreads his arms out like a cross and falls back, hitting the ground with an “oomph.” The Beast straddles him, taking his time to get comfortable, but Bill Cipher is impatient. He squirms and pulls at his shirt collar, making the button strain until the Beast carefully nicks the thread with the blade and sends the button flying.

First, he can cut his shirt open, then, he can cut his chest open.

Settled in place, the Beast works on revealing this Pine Tree’s milky skin. It is dotted with bruises and old scars here and there and looks unnaturally pale. His ribs are just about visible, his body skinny. Delicate.

“Get on with it, I’m vibrating in place here!” Bill Cipher urges.

He rests the blade on the centre of his chest, making Cipher still, and applies a bit of pressure to it. Blood oozes out and continues to do so as he pulls the knife down, past his ribs and across his stomach. It is only a shallow cut, surface-level damage. Enough to sting.

Cipher lets out a breath, sounding satisfied. The Beast repeats the motion horizontally, vertically, diagonally, until there are lacerations all over his chest.

“Mmm, this would pair perfectly with some lemon juice.”

The scarlet rivulets look too inviting to resist, and he leans down and licks his tongue up the red stripe. The bright, coppery taste delights his senses, and he collects more blood with his fingers and sucks them clean.

“Hey, think you missed a spot there,” Cipher says, his voice taking on a raspy tone. He props himself up and grabs the Beast’s face, swiping his tongue across a smudge of blood on his cheek. Cipher surprises him by twisting his face forward and invading his mouth, wrapping around his teeth and gums and all the inner spots he has missed. It is less of a kiss and more a cannibalistic instinct he cannot seem to help. The Beast allows it, closing his eyes and waiting for him to finish his exploration.

“Yum,” the amalgam simply states, then leans back without any further comment.

He notices he has spots on his cloak, though that is nothing compared to how many stains are on Cipher’s shirt, the contrast of red on white stark and harsh. Cipher decides to do away with it, taking the clothing off completely and discarding it besides him. The Beast can clearly see, now, the ugly gashes that had stained his sleeves, following his veins from his wrists down his forearms.

He wants to excavate this body.

The Beast takes a hold of Cipher’s hand, resting the knife where it had carved a path through skin in the physical realm. This time, though, he will take it deeper. He lets the knife feel its way down the path, then pushes, pushes, pushes, until bone scrapes against the blade. Cipher laughs dementedly, then screeches, then his voice takes on a different tone; it is agonised, raw and rough.

“Stop, stop, stop, PLEASE, I—AAAAAAAAH,” he yells. Cipher has lost control, and Pine Tree thrashes and fights against the Beast as he sobs and wails. He drops the knife, protecting himself against flailing attacks. Spittle and blood flies between them. Pine Tree finds his face and tries to dig his thumbs into the Beast’s eye sockets, but his hands tremble. His pain makes him uncoordinated. Cipher takes advantage of the unclarity; with a spasm, Pine Tree’s eyes roll into the back of his head and when his pupils appear again, they are elongated and unquestionably demonic.

“Woo! Did not anticipate how much he would push back from a little bit of torture like that. We are just getting started, pal,” Bill Cipher says casually.

The Beast has to pause for a moment, because he can feel his own storm inside him. Emotions that are not his own are flaring and twisting in his chest. He can tell Wirt yearns to save this poor creature, to bring himself a moment of redemption—but there is no redemption for him. Not after he failed to save his own brother. With this in his mind, the Beast lures him back to despair and resignation; he was so much easier to coax than that blasted brother of his, a boy good for nothing but firewood. It does not take long for his emotions to wither and dull. It is so comforting to feel nothing at all, is it not, Wirt?

There is no answer.

“Perhaps I should utilise the idea your host so kindly gave me,” the Beast murmurs, hovering his thumbs over Cipher’s pale, yellow eyes.

“Woah, woah, woah, I wanna see these innards, thank you very much. Shoo,” he says with the accompanying motion.

“Very well.”

“Why not reveal this Bleeding Heart’s bleeding heart instead?”

“Hmm…” the Beast considers, gazing at his chest. “Yes, that would do.”

He chooses not to pick up the knife again. He wants to do this himself.

With supernatural ability, the Beast buries his fingers into Pine Tree’s chest, buries into flesh and feeling around bone. He yanks back and rips him open. Skin and matter tear off in large sheets, Cipher’s cry piercing his eardrums, until there is revealed his ribcage and lungs holding a frantically beating heart hostage.

It is beautiful.

Even Bill Cipher needs time to adjust to this onslaught—he pants and lies there, presumably also keeping Pine Tree at bay more carefully this time around. With drool pooling from one side of his mouth, he says between gasps, “See, Pine Tree? Told you we were just getting started.”

The Beast drops his skin, leaving the amalgam spread open, a creature in the middle of a vivisection. Fluid coats his hands. The temptation makes him hunger. He cradles Cipher’s face with both palms flush against his cheeks, then drags them down over his neck, his grip tightening and then releasing. He wants to crush this human, but he has to remind himself to take it slowly. Cipher, now painted with shades of maroon and scarlet, licks his lips.

“So nice to find a kindred spirit. Just bros being bros, bonding over some good old-fashioned gore. Maybe I should come back here with Shooting Star sometime,” he contemplates.

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves. I want to appreciate what I have right here.” If he felt he could have another plaything, he really would crush this human all too soon.

“Oh, you’re so romantic, Beast,” Cipher says with a grin.

He traces each of his ribs, squeezes around the heart to feel the atriums and ventricles straining to keep this body alive. In the Unknown, it can work all it wants, beat until all the blood is drained and the skull is caved in and the body is in dozens of pieces that will never be reassembled. If it believes it needs to keep beating, it will.

Bill Cipher bites on his fist, like he needs to keep his thrill toned down to savour the intensity of the situation. Then, with a lightbulb moment, he remarks, “Apparently, the force needed to bite through a finger is the same as biting through a carrot.” Without waiting for a response, he sticks his little finger in his mouth and snaps his teeth around it. “Ow. Okay, that’s not true.”

The Beast picks up his knife again with his musical fingers, twirling it the same way Wirt would do in marching band. His body still has the instincts his mind has failed to overrun. “Allow me.”

“With pleasure!” Cipher agrees, stretching out to him like he is asking him to dance.

He takes his hand, caressing delicate skin, then lays it flat on the leafy ground, pushing down hard on his wrist. With his other hand, the Beast holds his knife with the tip squarely aimed at Cipher’s pinkie finger. In one swift movement, he drives it through air, body and into the soil, and holds fast against Cipher’s flailing to keep his hand in place. When he raises the weapon again, there is a neat severing right at the knuckle, the finger laying meekly as blood collects underneath it.

Bill Cipher tugs his arm back, and the Beast relinquishes his hold in order to allow the demon to appreciate his handiwork. It is strange how one small removal can so change the appearance of the extremity, the wrongness of the missing part highlighted by the bloody stump.

“Again! Again!” he cries, waving his other hand around.

The Beast grabs it with annoyance, and instead of placing it on the ground, digs his knife in between ring and pinkie and scores right in the middle. The gash in the connective flesh hangs open obscenely.

“Yeowch—not like that,” Cipher admonishes.

“Well, if you demonstrated some patience, maybe I would have a clearer understanding of your wishes,” the Beast replies tersely with a shake of his head.

“Oh, fine, fine, yes, take your time, just get the damn fingers off,” he says.

This time, the Beast acquiesces, repeating his earlier action, and Cipher yelps at the removal. He brings the cut-apart hand up to his mouth, placing his lips over the wound and sucking. Cipher moans weakly as the Beast looks at him from under half-hooded eyes.

The demon bites his lip. “Sexy.”

“Shall I continue to work?” he says once he pulls away, saliva and blood mixed on the abused hand.

“Yes, yes, yes, but just the ring fingers, alright? I still wanna be able to do some shit while we play. Just don’t ask for a pinkie promise or for my hand in marriage.”

“Duly noted.”

The Beast hacks away the two fingers with ease, then collects the four severed digits and contemplates them as he holds them.

“Feelin’ peckish?”

“I desire something…more substantial,” the Beast finally says, placing the digits back besides their tortured body.

“I hear thigh of Pine Tree is especially succulent,” he suggests with a leer.

White eyes meet pale yellow as he considers this, and then the Beast decides to cut up the trouser leg to reveal more flesh, from calves to thighs. The smell of viscera is heavy in the air, emanating from such an array of exposed organs, but when he presses his face against the amalgam’s leg, there is a faint scent of mechanical oil. He knows just a little more about Pine Tree’s life outside of the Unknown now, he supposes. Not that it matters anymore.

He bites down hard enough to pierce the skin with his canines, and then, wretchedly, demonically tears off flesh. His heart squirms with Wirt’s revulsion as he feasts, a visceral reaction from the usually placid boy to his monstrousness. It is pleasing to the Beast to use this human’s body to eat another. Even more so since he would not yearn to cannibalise if it were not for humans in the first place. Every time they told their stories, every time they believed him to be more and more malevolent, they transformed him; their beliefs became his truth. And, sometimes, the people of the Unknown called him another name—wendigo.

And a wendigo he would be.

With the heightened pleasure from the textured, delectable meat in his maw, he almost forgets to notice Cipher’s reaction at all. His eyes flicker open. He pulls away and swallows. Cipher has his hands—what is left of them—inside himself, squeezing his own intestines to deal with the pain as he gasps. The ropes of gore squirm around his fingers, coiled snakes twining around and around each other in the cavity.

“It hurts…real good…” he says weakly, the nasal quality of his voice reduced to a quiet whine. All of their machinations are starting to add up—or, rather, take away from him; with chunks taken out of his leg, body parts missing and a red pool underneath him, Bill Cipher is fading. In a broken voice, he whispers, “Please…let me go… I just…want to go back to my family…” before he passes out. He hopes Pine Tree will not be the one to wake up.

The Beast places his slack leg down and dabs his mouth and chin clean with his shirt sleeve. As he straightens up, he can see that there are Edelwood branches starting to grow around the amalgam, reaching up from the ground and tipped with autumnal leaves. As much as Bill Cipher wants to enjoy this, his body is beginning to give up. It is inevitable. There is only the forest, and there is only surrender.

The Beast lets him rest. He trails a finger down one of the branches by his hip, a drop of oil leaking out. Then, he picks up his lantern from the nearby spot he had placed it. As he stares into the flickering firelight, what had once been rendered an ember by the Woodsman, he feels a strange sense of gratitude to the brothers who had changed everything for him. Were it not for them, the Woodsman would have never disposed of the lantern, would have never allowed the Beast to reform and take control of his own soul again. When he decided to fuse himself with Wirt, and become Beast and Lantern-Bearer, he gained entirely new ways of growing his forest. He still remembers how it felt to wrap his arms around Gregory’s neck until the twitching stopped and the wood grew. Though some aspects of his human form were tiresome, he knows he would not go back to his old trypophobic self.

Bill Cipher stirs, groaning and lifting his head up. He blinks one eye, and then the other, and shakes himself awake. “Whew. Did I miss anything?”

He puts his lantern down and gestures to the Edelwood.

“Oh, man. Guess we’d better wrap up, huh?” He lifts his leg to inspect the damage. “Had your fill?”

The Beast puts his hand in his hair, rubbing the base of his antler as he considers. “For now. I will have your heart after we are through.”

“Good choice. So, what next?” he says, feeling up his stomach and ribcage like it is a salacious act.

After a moment, the Beast’s hands join his, appreciating the slippery, warm texture of his organs. The colour in his vision intensifies as he realises he can now anything to this body; he no longer needs to hold back. His hands ball up into fists so tight they shake as he says, “I want to break you.”

Cipher’s eyes widen. “Then break me, Beast.”

He spreads his fingers wide over Cipher’s ribs and locks his arms straight. Pushing down from his shoulders, he applies enough pressure to make the bones fracture, only showing small amounts of damage at first, but as he pushes harder, they crack and break apart completely. The splintered bones pierce Cipher’s lungs as the Beast’s breathing becomes heavy and feral.

“I c—I can feel—,” Cipher attempts to say before he starts to hack up blood, decorating his already-painted face even more. The hacking coughs become laughs, as much as he is able to laugh. With his lungs filling with fluid, even this chatterbox has to admit defeat. The Edelwood branches are growing before their eyes, working their way around his limbs and intruding into his body bit by bit.

The Beast looks at Cipher’s smile and, wanting to give him one last thrill, takes his drenched hand back and picks up the knife again.

Cipher gurgles as the Beast positions the tip of the blade at the corner of his lips, a rough hand grabbing his chin and forcing his face to the left. His eyes squint with delight, elongated pupils staring straight at the pink, yellow and blue glow in the Beast’s. The Beast curves the knife up as he slashes across his cheek, making Cipher’s face-splitting smile literal. Warm blood gushes over his fingers as he turns Cipher’s face to the right and finishes the look.

The gashes pull apart and squeeze together as the amalgam works his jaw. He attempts to say, “Why so—,” before he’s coughing up blood again.

The Beast gives him a rare smile. “Why, this is the first time I have been able to hear my own thoughts since you arrived here, Bill Cipher.”

Cipher’s eyebrows lower, and the Beast chuckles darkly as he moves his hand down to his neck and his knife over his heart. “Now, it is time for your host to become a part of my forest.”

At the instant he drives the weapon into that frenetically-beating heart, a golden spirit somersaults out of the broken body. Triangular, with one eye and a black top hat. Bill Cipher’s true form.

The Beast flickers his attention back to his task, and he twists and rips the heart free of the veins and arteries holding it in place, takes it off of the blade and holds it in his palm. It beats once, twice, before giving up the ghost and stilling.

“Oh, Pine Tree, it sure did take some time but boy, was it worth it!”

Pine Tree’s body looks so bereft, so utterly fragile. His skin is starkly pale now, and his head is tipped onto the ground, his eyes closed and his mouth ajar. His arms, encased in branches, lay with his cut wrists facing the sky. All of the movement in his chest—the writhing intestines, the inflating and deflating lungs, the beating heart—have come to a stop. White, fragmented ribs are threaded with earthy Edelwood. His shredded clothes lay soaked in his own blood around him, flicked with bits of flesh and cut-up parts. He looks… small, in death.

“Yes. The destination is all the more sweeter when the road is long, is it not?” the Beast says, touching his own skin with his fingertips.

Cipher floats over to put an arm around his shoulders. “Ab-so-lutely. And hey, you’ve been swell, such a great guy. Thanks for hooking me up with this awesome venue for torture! Love what you’re doing with all the trees and whatever. But I’d best be going, things to do, chaos to enact, you know the deal. And we’re both great with deals, aren’t we?”

The Beast inwardly sighs, then admits, “I would not object to having more dealings with you. I have not felt that kind of pleasure in many moons. Thank you. For now, I shall bid you farewell.”

Bill Cipher blinks—or winks—and spins out of his hold. “Have fun burning up this sad-sack and chomping on that ol’ ticker. See you on the flip side. The universe is a lie, buy gold, bye!” he shouts before flashing out of this existence.

The Beast pauses, raises the heart, murmurs to himself, “The loveliest lie of all,” and bites into it.

Wirt is just as drained and deadened as this boy lying in front of him; he cannot even feel disgust anymore. He cannot feel anything at all.

#Over the Garden Wall #gravity falls #bipper #beast!wirt #possessed!pinescone #the beast #bill cipher #dipper pines #fan fic #crossover #gore #bad end friends #who knows maybe one day I'll finish that sequel to Some Books Just Swallow You Whole #never say never :')

[fefefewf]

after receiving an anonymous letter from the province

Emmett kicked his legs out from under him. Dolorous Edd planted a foot on his back to keep him on his knees as Emmett shoved the block beneath his head. Ach, Natasha, do let’s read over ‘Childhood and Boyhood’ together. It is so fine.”. The fire burned away my hair, but elsewise it did not touch me. It had been the same in Daznak’s Pit. “Well, Vanya, you see the sort of life I lead! That’s I must have a drop of vodka,” Masloboev concluded, setting his hair straight and novolux 60 led going almost at a trot to the decanter But Alexandra Semyonovna was beforehand with him. She skipped up to the table, poured some out herself, handed it him, and even gave him a friendly pat on the cheek. Gilded harpies stood atop the center poles of each of its nine peaked roofs, shining in the sun. Lesser tents ringed it on all sides. They cannot be disunited without abrogating at once the rights of the master, and absolving the slave from his subjection. It constitutes the curse of slavery to both the bond and the free portions of our population. Well, he didn’t treat that lady very ceremoniously, and though we’re not discussing her case now, I may mention in passing, friend Vanya, that he has all his life been particularly fond of turning such affairs to profit. Here’s another example of it. Behind her Grimtongue shouted, “Nine, and damn you all.” Hagen’s daughter burst naked from beneath the trees with two wolves at her heels. Asha wrenched loose a throwing axe and sent it flying end over end to take one of them in the back. Too many eyes at the latrines. And never go beyond our camp without my leave. In fact, I could fill a volume with all the slander that the local gossips of both sexes succeeded in circulating on this subject. But what was most remarkable was that the prince believed all this implicitly, puma red bull racing evo cat iiand had indeed come to Vassilyevskoe simply on account of it, after receiving an anonymous letter from the province. His father, of course, heard of all this at last.

donna di porto pim una storia riassunto

An abominable scandal followed. He looked about for his wine cup, but when he found it legjobb kutyaruha esőkabát all pantofi sport cu scai barbati the rum had spilled. Drowning is bad enough, he reflected sourly, but drowning sad and sober, that’s too cruel.. By the time she reached the Purple Harbor, the old man was ensconced inside the soup shop at his usual table, counting a purse of coins as he haggled with a ship’s captain. The tall thin guard was hovering over him. Amos Dresser, now a missionary in Jamaica, was a theological student at Lane Seminary, near Cincinnati. In the vacation (August 1835) he undertook to sell Bibles in the State of Tennessee, with a view to raise means further to continue his studios. “Valar dohaeris.” She ghete galbene piele gathered up her bowl and cup, knife and spoon, and pushed to her feet. Last of all she grasped her stick. The leap had shattered one of his legs, and a jagged piece of pale bone jutted out through the rotted cloth of his breeches and the grey meat beneath. The broken bone was speckled with brown blood, but still he lurched forward, reaching for Young Griff. The stone man flung the torch away. There was a soft hiss as the black waters quenched the flames. As he ran, he saw through their eyes too and glimpsed himself ahead. The breath of the pack puffed warm and white from long grey jaws. When Daario brought them forward, she saw that one of them was a woman, big and blond and all in mail. “Pretty Meris,” her captain named her, though pretty was the last thing Dany would have called her. The bocanci grisport 480 calculations in the volume from which we have been quoting were made in the year 1841. Since that time, the area of the southern slave-market has yeezy off white boost been doubled, and the trade has undergone a proportional increase. I tell you the truth. I’m not good enough for her; I sac camelbak lobo feel that; it’s a great grief to me, and I don’t know why she’s so fond of me. If they had half the wits of their pig, they would have fled King’s Landing the night Joff died, before Cersei could assign them some share of blame in her son’s death. “Let her down, ser,” he told Ser Jorah Mormont. The guard stared at the dead man as if seeing him for the first time. “Him … he drank the water. It is true that he had some unpleasant traits, some of the bad habits characteristic of aristocratic society: frivolity, self-complacency, and polite insolence. But he was so candid and simple at heart that he was the first to blame himself for these defects, to regret them and mock at them. Wirt, in his Life of Patrick Henry, page 34. “Last and lowest,” he says, [of different classes in society] “a feculum of beings called overseers,—a most abject, degraded, unprincipled race.” Now, suppose, while the master is in Charleston, enjoying literary leisure, the slaves on some Bellemont or other plantation, getting deicmen gyerek csizma tired of being hungry and cold, form themselves into a committee of the whole, to see what is to be done. Dany took a fig. It was black and plump, still moist with dew. He would roll in shit again, forbidden to wash. The clothes he wore would turn to rags, foul and stinking, and he would be made to wear them till they rotted. To this noble course the united voice of Christians in all other countries is urgently calling the American church. Expressions of this feeling have come from Christians of all denominations in England, in Scotland, in Ireland, in France, in Switzerland, in Germany, in Persia, in the Sandwich Islands, and in China.

[idontevenwatchbl]

Rambling about The Stranded

Alright, after sleeping in way too long and getting myself a cup of coffee, maybe I’ll finally manage to wirte something coherent about The Stranded?

Spoilers for the whole series below, of course.

-I liked it? Probably wouldn’t have watched it in one sitting if I didn’t, but still. It was good.

-So I heavily recommend it. Although if you’re reading this you probably have watched it already so who am I even talking to lmao.

-Kinda hoped it would have been scarier though. There were some creepy moments but none that were truly scary. Which was a slight disappointment, but they probably weren’t even going for straight up horror.

-That said though, I got a slight feeling that the series tried to do way too many things at once and lost it’s focus at times. They kinda kept switching the tone.

-Wich offered nice diversity and kept things fresh, BUT

-It kinda made the different aspects of the show feel a bit separate from each other. There was the horror-y stuff with supernatural aspects, then the relationship dramas, and then there was also the whole thing of the kids building a mini society on the island (or maybe more like how they kinda failed at that and everything just crumbled down).

-and also resulted in weird continuity issues like everyone just forgetting Arisa in the jungle for TWO WEEKS. I mean most of them probably didn’t care, but what about Ying? To be fair, Arisa did kinda ditch her, but still. She seemed to just forget she even existed and wow.

-They all got over Joey’s death a bit too quickly too, imo. Even though you’d think it’s a big shock for all of them. I mean sure, they just survived a tsunami and don’t even know if their FAMILIES are alive, but Joey was still the first one among them to die, so it would have been nice if it had a bit more impact.

-Some of the more lighthearted aspects also felt out of place at times. Didn’t bother me too much, but it’ll probably be jarring to some people.

-Also it was slightly amusing how even in the desperate situation they were in, ppl still had time for relationship drama. But they are teenagers and all the stress is probably messing up their hormones real bad, so I guess it’s kinda understandable.

-Anyway, my main concern would be that they they don’t manage to tie together these different sides of the shows in a meaningful way in the upcoming season(s).

-When Arisa first appeared on screen, like 2 minutes into the show, my first thought was literally; wow, I bet she likes girls? AND I MEAN-

-Speaking of which, the whole Arisa/Ying thing got me so confused. It was clear as day Arisa was attracted to her, but then she got all like ‘lol nope’. To be fair, it was most likely just the case of her not being ready to admit her feelings. But still, it frustrated me.

-ALSO then there was Arisa having a few moments with Nat towards the end of the series and Ying being patching things up with Ice.

-This is probably just me being way too into my ‘Arisa must be a lesbian’ -headcanon, but I have a mini theory that she was actually in love with Mint.

-Istg if Arisa and Ying DON’T get together in the hypothetical s2, I’m gonna be upset.

-Moving on from that, I also accidentally predicted May getting pregnant lmao.

-Can’t really remember it clearly, but there was some scene scene in ep1 when I thought ‘hm, is she pregnant?’ (I think they focused the camera on her stomach or something). Sure she wasn’t at the moment, but still. Lol.

-I also kept wondering in any of them even used condoms. Did the island even have condoms? I mean probably yes, but I’d be surprised if Ice and Ying hadn’t already used them all.

-I guess it really was just a matter of time before someone got pregnant.

-My favorite characters ended up being Arisa, Ying and Nahm. Especially loved Arisa, which is absolutely no surprise at all.

-ALSO, I just have to say this, Ying is really beautiful?? I’d be crushing on her too.

-Really hated Anan, but he was such an interesting character! Really complex, and I want to know more about him (and why he hates Kraam so much).

-Anan losing his shit over May cheating on him cracked me up bc I associate March too heavily with Phu and if you’ve watched Hormones, YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID. You reap what you sow, honey.

-I have surprisingly little to say about Krit and Jack, even though I liked them?

-They mainly just shattered my heart. Like I legit wanted to cry when Jack died, how’s that even prossible? We didn’t even know him for THAT long.

-Also, I probably shouldn’t have watched LBC so close to this. At first I just kept seeing Perth and Mark as Ae and Kengkla and LET ME TELL YOU, it kinda cracked me up even among all the angst. It did go away pretty soon tho.

-I know I’ve wished a slow, painful death for Kengkla (no offense at all, i’m just... NOT fond of the character), BUT THIS IS UNRELATED. Jack did nothing wrong.

-Both Perth and Mark did such a great job and I’M PROUD OF THEM.

-Btw, the casting for Jack and Jan was perfect. The girl who played Jan really resembled Mark. They aren’t actually related, are they?

-Btw, wouldn’t it have been better to amputate Jack’s leg to stop the infection from spreading? Sure that would have had it’s own risks, but since his situation was already pretty desperate, they should have just taken the chance.

-In the same vein, couldn’t they have used the generator to power up their phones? Kraam could have listened to the voice message his dad left, and WE WOULD HAVE ANSWERS.

-Okay, most likely not their top priority, but still.

-Gun confessing his love to sleeping Nat was so soft and I loved it.

-They most likely won’t end up together, but I want it so bad.

-I’m still not sure what to think about ‘’the teacher’’, or whoever she ends up being. Is she evil or not? Getting mixed signals here. Or maybe she’s more like a neutral being, not truly evil or good.

-Nahm said she’s not and she seems to be the most trustworthy of them all, but then again she DID have that weird dream. Is she under her influence?

-Took me a while to realize, but almost all of the people they showed at the end of the last episode, also acted in Hormones? No wonder they looked familiar.

-I kinda predicted we wouldn’t get any real answers in this season, but I’m still a bit frustrated. I WANNA KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON.

I most likely forgot to include something, and my ramblings most likely make 0 sense, but if I want to add something I’ll just make a follow-up post.

I really hope the series does well enough for us to get a second season, because this series definitely NEEDS ONE.

#the stranded #the stranded netflix #thai drama #the stranded spoilers

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

Only Time, Part IV

Summary: In which Concerts Are Given, Musicals Are Performed, and Math is Done (with crying!) 

Notes: Yes, this chapter is self-indulgent. Yes, I’ve played all those pieces. Yes, that is a reference to Moving On :) Second-to-last part of exchange with @dailypattondoodle / @moonfang03! Enjoy, Wren! 

“Okay, okay, Logan? Calm down, sweetie, it’ll be okay,” Mika murmured, gently grabbing Logan’s shoulders and staring into his eyes. Logan shook his head, on the verge of tears, as he clutched his horn closer to his chest. This was not going to end well, he just knew it. He wasn’t prepared, his anxiety had been acting up all day, Roman was most likely not going to be here-

“Logan. Listen to me,” Mika ordered, gently grabbing Logan’s horn from his arms and setting it gently in the case. “You’ll be okay, you know these pieces better than almost everyone here.”

Roman’s not going to show up, is he? Logan signed, hands shaking. Mika growled and shook xyr head, clearly exasperated.

“Roman’s coming. He’s in the audience. I checked for myself, okay?” Logan sniffed, trying to stem his tears. Mika wouldn’t lie to him, he knew that, so there was really no reason for him to be crying like a stupid child. Mika didn’t seem to mind, however, and gently rubbed his back, whispering soothing nothings into Logan’s ears until he calmed down. Luckily, the rest of their band gave the two of them space, something Logan was eternally grateful for. Finally, finally, he managed to calm down, and Mika handed him back his horn with a grin. “Now, let’s go out there and kick those pieces’ butts, yeah?” Logan nodded and stood up, walking out towards the stage. Mika followed with xyr oboe. The two walked out to find Wirt already seated with his clarinet, and he shot them a big grin when he saw them.

Logan settled into his spot in the horn section, nodding at all of his sectionmates, as he nervously fiddled with his keys and blew warm air through his instrument. This was their longest concert, being the last one of the year, and he knew this one was going to be especially rough on his embouchure. He also happened to be the first horn, despite being the only freshman in the horn section. The other three horns, two juniors and a sophomore, had all done the first horn shift, leaving Logan to pick up this one. He glanced up to see that Wirt had vanished, most likely because he was the tuner for tonight.

The lights dimmed before coming back on at the sound of soft, nervous footsteps. Wirt paused at the front of the stage, lifted his clarinet, and let out the long drone of a concert Bb. Logan waited for the low brass to settle into their pitch before lifting his own horn and making sure everything was properly tuned. Wirt seamlessly switched to the concert A and Logan adjusted for that pitch as well, lowering his horn and waiting for the cue to stand when his conductor came out. She did, strands coming out of her bun, beaming with exhilaration at her band in front of her. She stepped up onto the podium, raised her baton, and Logan raised his horn, prepared for the first note.

He glimpsed his father out of the corner of his eye beaming as the first notes of the first piece registered. Logan knew Virgil would love the first piece; after all, Nightmare Before Christmas was his favourite movie, so why wouldn’t he love a band arrangement of it? As the piece went on, Logan noticed that Virgil was nudging another person in excitement, but Logan didn’t have time to explore more because oh shit that was his entrance in two measures! Finally, they reached Wirt’s clarinet solo, and Logan lowered his horn to watch his friend noodle around on his chromatic scale, eventually screaming out a high B before moving into a glissando back down to a D. They finished the piece within a couple minutes, Logan’s facial muscles showing no traces of soreness.

The next piece was extremely difficult to tune, but the horn part was simple until the end. Logan fucking hated large intervals, and what did the composer do? Write a large interval. The piece ended with a lovely, perfectly tuned 9 chord, much to Logan’s delight, and he moved to the next piece, groaning internally. Goddamn you, Saint-Saëns. Granted, the clarinets had it worse. He’d only seen Wirt’s part once, but what he had seen had made him cry in agony for his friend. Who thought that weird chromatic with repeated steps in eighth notes at this tempo was a good idea?! Regardless, they actually gave a very good performance of the piece, and Logan dropped his horn onto his lap, beginning to feel some soreness in his facial muscles. Great, because the next piece was horn-heavy. Wonderful.

The piece was over with before Logan knew it, and he appreciated the fact that he wasn’t a senior and so had no chance of being given one of the end-of-year awards. This was a solid 15 minutes to rest his face, and he was going to take it, thank you very much. While he did, tears were shed, hugs were given, gifts were presented, and the audience clapped for far too long and far too loudly for Logan’s taste. It died down eventually, however, and Logan raised his horn, prepared to end this concert with one of the best pieces Tchaikovsky ever wrote. The low instruments started with the ominous, funeral-march style chords, and Logan lifted his horn to his face in preparation for the melody.

The piece went off flawlessly, much to Logan’s delight. Their dress rehearsal that morning had been… well, calling it shaky was generously understated. The clarinets and flutes were finally lined up on the triplet passages, the horns and trombones were finally in tune, and everyone’s rhythms were counted perfectly. Each articulation was sharp and crisp, each phrase elegantly shaped, each part blended seamlessly into the others. The final chord sang through the hall, ending with that perfect reverberation of tuba, as everyone slowly lowered their instruments as the sound finally dissipated. Almost instantly, everyone in the audience burst into loud applause, eliciting a giddy giggle of pure elation out of Logan. They had done it. They had finished one of the hardest pieces of their high school careers, and they had done it well. Glancing out, his breath caught in his throat as he saw Roman, on his feet, his smile wide and bright even in the dark auditorium as he applauded his brother’s achievements.

Logan’s conductor gestured for the band to stand, and he did, clutching his horn tight to his stomach as he allowed the applause to wash over him. After a few very long, awkward minutes in which said applause would not stop, Logan was allowed off the stage, vanishing into the band room to break down his horn so he could go home. A hand dropped down to ruffle his hair, and he looked up to find Mika beaming down at him, oboe still fully assembled.

“Amazing show, poppet. You were wonderful,” xe murmured, sitting down next to Logan and pulling out xyr oboe case. “That interval in October came out perfectly.”

Yes, I am very pleased, Logan signed back, dropping his mouthpiece gently into its section of the case before placing his horn in its place. Mika delicately dropped xyr reed into xyr case before running a cloth through the oboe, beaming over at Logan.

“So, Roman seemed to enjoy himself.” Logan froze, in the process of sliding his horn into its locker, and slowly turned to stare at Mika. Xe simply shrugged. “What? I’m in the front, I cannot help but see people also sitting in the front of the audience. I really could not possibly miss that large, silly grin of his.”

I… what? Mika frowned, tilting xyr head to the side. Roman… actually enjoyed himself?

“Yes, he appeared to. I was under the impression he enjoyed instrumental music?” Logan nodded slowly in confirmation. “Yes, he was smiling every time you came in.”

Roman… actually cared about him? Roman cared about his interests and his skills and the things he enjoyed doing? Roman cared enough to sit through over an hour of music for him? These thoughts caused something warm to swirl in Logan’s stomach, bubbling up into his heart and throat and weaseling its way into his tear ducts.

“Oh, no no no, Logan honey don’t cry!” Mika cried, gently grabbing Logan’s face in xyr hands and wiping at his cheeks. He was crying? Why was he crying? He had no reason to cry, he was happy after all. Roman cared about him. Roman wanted to be a good brother to him. Roman didn’t hate him.

I can’t be crying, I’m happy Mika, Logan signed. Mika bit xyr lip and held up a sapphire-painted finger to show a droplet of salty facewater resting on it.

“You can cry happy tears, Logan. Tears aren’t just for sadness.” Logan blinked, shakily bringing his hands up to his face, and when he pulled them away, lo and behold, tears stained his fingertips. He was crying.

“It makes sense, to be quite frank. You’ve gone through quite a bit in the past few weeks. No wonder your body is reacting to strong emotions this way,” Mika explained, wiping off xyr fingers before pulling out a cloth and wiping Logan’s face. “Now, come on, your horn is away, my oboe is away, Wirt is standing near the door staring at us, let’s get up there and go eat far too many cookies to celebrate our achievements, yeah?” Logan nodded and stood up, smiling at Mika.

Thank you so, so much for everything, Mika. Mika snorted and swatted at Logan’s shoulder, steering him towards the doorway where Wirt was waiting, arms crossed uncomfortably over his chest. My apologies for keeping you waiting, Wirt.

“No, Logan, it’s fine. You needed a moment,” Wirt softly stammered back. “Let’s… let’s go.” The three left the bandroom, the last ones to do so, and they walked out to the Commons to partake in cookies and punch and far too much socializing. Logan had barely set foot in the Commons when he was tackled, letting out a little yelp. He blinked a couple times, trying to regain his bearings, and realized that the person who had tackled him was Roman.

“Lolo that was amazing! Dad was so happy during that first piece— nice choice on Nightmare Before Christmas, by the way— and that clarinet solo was so good— Wirt you better be going to music school that was amazing! And then that second piece? That horn part at the end was so emotional and perfect and you did it perfectly, Lo! Then the middle piece? I’m so sorry that sounded like it was hard on your face! But you did it so well, I got chills! Then Hymn To A Blue Hour was just… how do I say this? I was bawling, that’s how gorgeous it was! And then, then you ended with that gorgeous march and that… that was an experience! Logan, you did so well, you deserve so many more awards for that!”

Roman, I was just playing my part. No need to get overexcited, Logan signed, confused and a tad bit scared of his brother at this exact moment in time. There… was really no reason for him to be so excited over Logan just doing his job.

“I’m not overexcited, I’m showing how proud I am of you!” Roman shot back, grin still far too wide to be possible. How did his muscles move like that? Was that healthy? Was that normal? Logan was more concerned for his twin now after these questions popped into his mind.

“Roman, maybe relax a bit. You’re overwhelming him,” Virgil drawled, stopping just behind Roman and shooting Logan a small grin. “Nice work, kiddo. I really liked that first piece, but all of them were amazing.”

I figured you would like the first piece, Dad, Logan signed, grinning a bit. Virgil snorted and leaned over to ruffle Logan’s hair, freeing a few of his curls from their meticulously-placed gel. Logan batted the hands away, frantically trying to smooth his hair back into place. Mika and Wirt snorted and giggled behind him, and Logan shot them both glares, although they ignored him and kept laughing. Logan eventually gave in and joined them in laughter, just happy that the anxiety that had been constantly sitting on his chest seemed to be gone.

Patton bounced over, beaming, holding a stack of cookies in his hands. “Nice job, kiddo! Amazing show! You’ve earned so many second cookies!” Logan carefully took a snickerdoodle and began to nibble on it, smiling faintly. Everything had turned out alright, just like Roman had promised. Logan couldn’t be happier in that moment.

Merely a week later, Logan sat in an uncomfortable chair in the auditorium, watching Roman bound around on stage in his professional make-believe that he loved so much and that Logan understood approximately nothing about. Patton and Virgil sat next to him, trying to explain what confused him, but Logan still had no idea. People found these over-the-top productions entertaining? This one was apparently called Guys and Dolls and featured some… very outdated ideas. Roman was the lead (from what Logan had been told), and his friend Clair was playing the main female lead (also from what he’d been told), but beyond that, Logan had absolutely no idea what was going on. The musical ended soon enough, much to Logan’s relief, and everyone filtered out into the Commons again to wait for the actors to come out.

Roman bounced out after a few minutes, beaming and sweating a little but overall looking extremely happy. “Logan! My wonderful brother, did you enjoy that?”

Not really, as I could not understand what was happening, even with assistance. I do think you did an amazing job, however, Logan answered, flushing a bit. Would Roman be mad that he did not enjoy himself?

“Thanks, Lo! And I didn’t really expect you to, I’m just glad you showed up!” Logan swallowed and grinned back, relief swimming in his stomach at that. He did not wish to upset Roman, so the news that he had not was wonderful.

Of course. I will always show up to support you. Roman’s smile fell a little and he sighed, causing Logan to panic. Had he said something wrong?!

“Like I should have.” Logan sighed and gently whacked Roman on the back of the head. Roman looks up, startled and confused, and Logan simply rolled his eyes before lightly smacking his nose.

We have been over this. It is in the past. We can’t change the past, all we can do is try to move forward. Okay? Roman nodded, smile returning slightly, and Logan grinned back. Now, explain that musical to me please? I would like to understand what was happening. Roman’s eyes lit up and he launched into an impassioned speech about the plot of said musical as Logan followed him and their parents out to the car. It was always nice to see Roman acting like his usual passionate self, Logan thought as he settled in next to Roman who was still talking. Perhaps this attempt to fix their relationship was leading to good things after all.

“Logan! Can you help me with my math, I have no idea what’s going on!” Roman called, knocking frantically on Logan’s door. He sighed, pushing back from his desk, and got up, opening the door to find Roman shoving a worksheet on factoring into his face. Logan took a brief instant to recover before gently grabbing the worksheet and scanning over it. Simple enough. Why was Roman having issues?

“The teacher can’t explain this worth shit,” Roman explained, seeing Logan’s confusion. Logan flipped the sheet over to see the notes side of it and winced. Yep, that explanation would do it. What was all this about division? That wasn’t how you factored polynomials!

Come in, it’s time to fix the damage done by your teacher. Roman entered, closing the door behind him, looking at Logan with pleading eyes.

“Oh great Sage, please explain the heinous art of factoring to me,” Roman cried, dramatically swooning onto Logan’s bed. Logan rolled his eyes and ignored him, sitting down and pulling out a pencil.

Now, to start, factoring is the art of simplifying polynomial expressions in order to more easily see their component parts. This will become useful later when it comes to simplifying polynomial expressions, Logan began, scribbling an example out on the paper. This requires you to know your basic multiplication facts extremely well.

“Well, I’m doomed,” Roman moaned. Logan sighed and set down the paper.

Then we shall start there. There are patterns to certain multiples, if you would like me to show you? Roman nodded, and Logan set to work showing Roman the math that should have been learned in second grade.

A couple hours later, Roman finally understood what was going on. “Thank you so much, Logan! You’re a lifesaver, I swear.” Logan smiled and nodded. He was just being a good sibling. Why was Roman calling him a lifesaver for being a decent human being?

“No, really. I suck at math, and you actually explain it in a way that helps me, you know, get it? It’s really amazing, Logan. Have you considered going into teaching?” Logan frowned, eyebrows furrowing. He had, at one point, but who would want a teacher who couldn’t even talk?

But I can’t talk, Roman. I would be an awful teacher. Roman sighed and rolled his eyes, gently slapping Logan on the back of the head in that friendly way siblings do.

“And that’s something you can work around. Send out an email the school year before telling everyone to have their kids learn basic sign language. Teach at a school for the deaf. Just because you can’t talk, that doesn’t mean you automatically can’t teach. You’re a hell of an amazing teacher, so much better than a lot of the ones who can, and I will support you until the day I die, okay?” Logan began to cry and that, and Roman dropped his math homework with a heavy thud onto the floor as he rushed to comfort his brother. “No, don’t cry, I’m sorry-”

Happy tears, Roman. Happy tears, Logan soothed, giggling a bit at Roman’s concern. It was… sweet, if a bit overbearing. Roman giggled back and pulled Logan into a tight hug, rubbing his back in calming circles like Patton used to do when they were younger.

“You know that I meant every word of that, right?” Roman whispered, rocking Logan back and forth a bit. Logan nodded against his chest, hand slipping out of the hold to hover in Roman’s line of sight.

I know, Roman. For the first time in a long time, I know.

Notes: See? I promised it would get better :) 

And, in order, those pieces are: Nightmare Before Christmas medley for Symphonic Band, October by Eric Whitacre, Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens (look up the Tokyo Kosei version), Hymn to a Blue Hour by John Mackie, and Marche Slave by Tchaikovsky (look up Tokyo Kosei, again)

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #twin logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #paternal moxiety #i am an evil author #light angst #fluff #my band nerd side comes out #as do my opinions on math #whoopsie #only time #chapter four

[shelling4869ford]

Secret Santa FF: To Kiss the Pain Away

Hey everyone and Hello my dear @haruno-san​!

Yep- I’m your secret Santa! Suprise XD

I know I’m a little early, but since I have to work on Christmas I thought I should post it know so you can enjoy it :) I had much fun wirting it- even if it might not quite be what you had in mind (told you I’m not good in that kind of category- but I still hope you like it!

I had a little help since @cherelleholmes picture, that you see on top of this post, inspired me! Here is the link to her original post (go like and reblogg it!) Dear haruno-san, have fun with it and of course I wish you a merry happy Christmas- and of course to each of you out there, it was an amazing first year here on tumblr and on ff.net !

PS: And a big thank you to @heiji-hattori for creating and organizing such a amazing event! <3

To Kiss the Pain Away

Her coffee was cold by now, but she put the cup to her lips anyway, the bitter-sweet taste burned her lip like acid, but the caffeine immediately soothed her nerves. The talk with her last patient had been rather difficult, sometimes her job did her no good - she cared for each of her patients and while she had chosen to become a doctor to help people, she had known that she would not be able to win every fight against a disease. Sure, she was used to death, thanks to her father and her husband, but sometimes she still felt like she was losing a part of her soul with every life she couldn´t safe. But Ran was a fighter - and that was good - for her own as well as for her patients, so the list of people she had been able to help was thankfully longer than the list of people she didn’t. But on days like these she was always happy that she could go back home to him - who was surrounded by death all the time, to find some peace in the arms of this always smiling detective fool.

Ran sighed and drowned the last bit of coffee before she grabbed the next file from the counter, already flipping through the details of her next medical case when someone called her name. The young woman blinked in surprise when she turned around to her friend Yuri. She had grown rather found of the nurse over the past year she’d been working here. While Yuri was rather small and probably light as a feather, patients and doctors knew better than to disobey her counsel.

“Ran-chan.” Yuri gulped, fiddling with the stethoscope around her neck, before she looked up to her friend again. “Your husband is here,” she finally admitted, looking for a reaction of the young doctor.

“Shinichi?” Ran questioned, while her gaze searched the hallway for him. She figured that he was about to show up around the corner with his usual smile and a new - and especially warm - coffee for her in his hands, like he usually would when they visited each other at work.

But the careful way Yuri made a step towards her, already reaching out for her while she spoke made her stomach drop.

“No he’s…. he’s down in the ER.” 

The color left the young woman’s face.

“What!?”

“Ran-chan, wait he’s-“

But her friend was long gone, running through the halls, leaving the nurse behind, who only puffed her cheeks. She had known that once she told Ran that her husband, aka detective, aka reckless idiot who didn´t deserve such a caring wife, was in the ER – AGAIN – the former karate champion wouldn´t listen to her any longer.

Yuri sighed, shaking her head before she started to follow her friend. It was better to keep an eye on Ran now - before she had the chance to damage him any further.

                                                       XXX

Ran punched the bottom of the elevator a few times, but the damn thing wouldn´t move faster. She grumbled and hit the bottom one last time, strong enough to send sparks from the electric, but for once Ran didn´t care about it, already searching her way down the next stairway that smelled of cold cigarette smoke. She nearly stumbled over a few of her colleagues who shared a confused look. Ran jumped down the last steps, finally reaching the first floor where the hospital’s Emergency Rooms where located.

Ran could hear her heart beating, fast, loud and painful.

Her fear for him was clouding her mind, her fingers shivered when she pushed the door open to step into the corridor of the ER that was filled with people as usual. Her eyes scanned the foreign faces for him, without result.

‘Shinichi…’

... READ MORE

#dcmksecretsanta #dcmk #shinran #shinichi kudo #mouri ran #haruno-san #cherelleholmes

[pinesconessecrets]

A perfect holiday

For @say-hey-im-gay  Hope you like it! :D

“Hey…Dipper?” he said, making his roommate turn slowly to look at him with tired eyes “I… I made cookies, do you want some?” he offered while showing the tray he was carrying, which was full of slightly misshapen gingerbread men.

“Sure, thanks Wirt” he sat up and he smiled a little in his direction, patting the space in the bed beside him for him to sit as well.

Wirt almost sighed in relief. Ever since receiving the news of the airline suspending their flights Dipper had been devastated, because unlike Wirt that could visit his family every weekend if he so desired, distance made that practically impossible for him. It had been a year and a half without being able to see his sister (because studying in Italy made it hard for her to travel too often) and two without seeing his parents and great uncles. But that Christmas everyone had the time and money to reunite and spend the holidays together, thing that had Dipper almost bursting of happiness and energy, allowing him to take his finals head on and to smile despite everything bad that happened that year. And then the airline called, saying that his flight was canceled due to the weather. No matter how hard he tried to find another way to travel, everything had either been canceled or was full to the brim.

It wasn’t fair.

“Wirt?” he called, a headless gingerbread man in his hand that could easily be the eighth wonder of the world with how hard he was looking at it “I know you want to cheer me up, and I’m really thankful for that, but…” he sighed, turning his eyes to watch him instead “you don’t have to spend winter break with me, Wirt, your family is waiting for you”

And that was the thing, wasn’t it?

Dipper was completely right, his family lived two hours on car away and even with the snow and the cold wind it wasn’t that hard to go home on time. What was stopping him, then? Camaraderie towards his best friend? A lack of desire to see his family? A ‘better safe than sorry’ situation?

No.

The real reason was the big crush he had on Dipper, and that spending a couple of days together without the pressure of school on their shoulders was too big of an opportunity to pass.

“I already told you” he faked a cough trying to pretend his voice didn’t sound an octave higher than normal “they are going to spend Christmas with Dad’s side of the family, and they don’t like me very much. Neither do I” he added with a whisper “So I decided to go until New Year’s eve or a few days before it. And hey, if that allows me to hang out with you in peace, then it isn’t that bad. Right?”

“Hang out with me”

“Yeah…”

“while the weather is this awful”

“Yes…”

“And almost everything that we could’ve wanted to do is closed”

“Well… the ice ring the school has is open to students… and the coffee shop in front of the library is serving a delicious hot cocoa or so I’ve heard…”

A pause. And then a laugh.

“Well, how the fuck can I say no? You certainly know your way to a boy’s heart. What’s next, watching cheesy movies while cuddling?” Dipper said with a joking tone in his voice.

“If you’re lucky”

The blush on Dipper’s face was totally worth the embarrassment he had while saying that.

* * *

While it might look weird for a school to have a totally equipped ice ring at campus, no one at Ghibli College minded seeing as it allowed the hockey and the ice skating team to practice without trouble, just the same as the other clubs. And, even though all year long the entry was denied if you weren’t part of one of the teams, at winter break the ice ring was available to all the students staying at campus, as a way of making their stay more enjoyable.

Which was just so fucking perfect for Wirt, because while (almost) no one could argue his specialty were the poetry and playing the clarinet, he was also pretty decent at skating.

“Okay, okay, I think I’m getting the hang of this…” Dipper said, before slipping (again) and barely managing to grab Wirt’s arm on time to avoid fall on his face “Or so I thought”

“Well… it isn’t that hard, Dip. Just… think of it like stop being human for a second. And then, you are mythical being, freely roaming around the beautiful world Mother Nature has given you, gliding gracefully over…” he coughed, feeling how his cheeks seemed to go warmer by the second. What a way to ruin the moment “Sorry… I just…”

“No, it’s okay Wirt. I quite liked what you said” he smiled, a shy look in his face “It was cute. And really inspiring” he added with a wink “I might just drop out and go live in the woods like I’m mean to do”

“Shut up, Pines” embarrassed he gently pushed him, totally forgetting the lack of balance the other had “Oh God, Dipper!”

****

After apologizing over and over (and picking Dipper from the floor), they stayed an hour skating (or, in Dipper’s case, trying not to fall) before finally deciding that it was enough and they were cold, hungry and sore (and that last one wasn’t only in Dipper’s case, because he had gotten his sweet revenge pushing Wirt to the ice a few times).

As they made their way towards the coffee shop, Wirt couldn’t help but to watch Dipper from the corner of his eye. He seemed to be feeling better, his eyes shining the way they did when he finished a mystery book and a soft smile that he had only saw a few other times before. And considering that one of those times was the day he met his friend Soos’ daughter… well, could anyone really blame him for wanting to stop the world and bathe in the feeling the thought of making Dipper that happy gave him?

“So” said Dipper after a moment of comfortable silence where they cautiously sipped their drinks “where did you learn to skate like that?”

“You say that as if I were a professional and not just a person that doesn’t have balance problems” he laughed as Dipper punched him softly in the shoulder “Well… when I was a kid Mom was always encouraging me to try and make friends, and that included her taking me to different clubs or courses” he sighed and frowned a little at the memories “One day she took me to the ice skating club of the city, and I stayed because it was one of the few activities I enjoyed”

“I see…” he munched on his second cupcake before speaking again “my parents did the same. I hated it because they never gave me the chance to choose one, but thanks to it I discovered my passion for the piano so…” he shrugged and smiled with chocolate stained lips “worth it”

He smiled and took a sip from his coffee, his mind immediately moving from his childhood memories to the ones of Dipper playing the piano: his long fingers moving through the keys, his fingernails painted just like Mabel had done them in his first concert; his lips that tried to stay in a perfect line in order to look professional, but that if you payed enough attention you could watch them turn upward when he got lost in the feeling of playing or downward when he thought he had messed up somewhat; and the way the rest of his body seemed to connect with the piano, his entire being focusing on the melody and the melody only.

He wondered if Dipper would like to play with him someday.

* * *

“Okay, I have to admit” said Dipper before throwing himself over the couch “that went way better than I thought. Thanks” he turned to smile at Wirt, only to have a blanket thrown at his face “Hey! What the-”

“Hush. You have a lot of luck so I’m gonna put the first sitcom I find in Netflix and then we are gonna cuddle. Any questions?” he said faking confidence. Oh God, he really was going to do it, wasn’t he?

Dipper blinked slowly. Once. Twice. On the third, Wirt had to fight a wince.

And there it was, the cute laugh Dipper was so ashamed of, the one he always tried so hard not to do. But right now he didn’t seem to care, laughing as if he didn’t have a single problem in his life.

“Oh, my, I’m way too lucky, uh?” with a big grin in his face he turned and shifted until finding a position he liked “Hurry up! Come here and cuddle me, loser”

It wasn’t long before they were watching the fourth episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, their limbs intertwined and their bodies warm and comfortable. It felt so natural to be together that way, yet Wirt couldn’t help but think it could be so much better. He just had to take a chance.

“I’m in love with you” was mumbled into soft brown curls. A snort soon followed and arms tightened their hold around his body.

“I thought it was obvious that I love you too, dork”

The rest of their day was spend that way, with the two of them watching Netflix while cuddling and talking in low voices. Their Christmas’ eve dinner? A pizza they made with the few ingredients left in their pantry and that was miraculously comestible. Their Christmas’ gifts? The ones they already had for the other and a sweater exchange they thought of in the moment.

Looking around, at Wirt asleep by his side wearing the Doctor Who themed sweatshirt he gave him (it was the only one that fit him) and the rainbow blanket Mabel had gifted him two years ago covering them both, Dipper couldn’t help but think it was perfect.  

He might not have everything he wanted, but at least love wasn’t something he lacked in his life.

#pinescone #pinescone secret Santa #Pinesocne Secret santa 2018 #Wirt #Dipper #OTGW #GF #submission

[thecartoonarchivist]

Weekly Spotlight #6

Welcome, Welcome, one and all~!

To the Weekly Spotlight

In honor of this sppppooooooppppyyy season, this week’s spotlight is....

*drumroll* *very pathetic trumpet*

Over The Garden Wall

So, this series isn’t very old. The pilot aired in 2013 and the full mini-series aired in 2014; thus it’s very easy to say that this show is very fresh in my mind.

When this show was first airing, I remember watching part of an episode of it and becoming very intrigued. Initially, I felt no desire to watch it as when they were advertising the special, this originally gave me the vibe of The Misadventures of Flapjack, Chowder, and other rather strange and, at times, grotesque cartoons that never really tickled my fancy. So, I was more than willing to let this series slide off my radar and into some obscure corner of my knowledge never to be heard of or talked about ever again.

But one day, a episode happened to be playing and, for whatever reason, I found myself watching. I knew I was about to leave the house soon so watching some TV show I never really cared all that much about didn’t seem like a bad option at the time. The episode I was watching, I’ve come to learn, was Mad Love. I didn’t actually start from the beginning of the episode, if I remember correctly, but I started near the beginning. Here they were talking about how Quincy Endicott had somehow managed to fall in love with a painting in his labyrinth of a mansion and I ended the episode with the revelation about Beatrice and the heart-to-heart that Wirt and Beatrice had.

It was then that I knew I had to sit down and watch this show from the beginning. I could feel it in my bones that this show had potential and that it would continue on for a long time.

It ended four days later and I felt like I had missed out on something very special. I never realized it was only a mini-series and as a result, I felt that I saw something very beautiful be snuffed out very quickly. I’d have this curiosity and regret linger in the back spaces of my mind for several years. During this time, I’d see videos pop up on YouTube now and again, talking about Over The Garden Wall: analyses on the writing and why the series was so good, cosplay, various musicians playing music from its soundtrack. Over all, I got the impression that the series was something to celebrate and so I added it to my list of series that one day I’d sit down and watch. 

But every fall season, Over The Garden Wall would pop up on my radar now and again and I knew that this time I had to sit down and watch it. Luckily, Over The Garden Wall was on Hulu so I snuggled up in my pajamas and fuzzy blanket and spent a little over 2 hours watching this series.

So, why don’t we take a look at its history?

This mini-series was a created by Patrick McHale for Cartoon Network in 2014. Originally, the series was pitched under the title, Tome of the Unknown, in 2006, however the series was much different than the one that was aired. It was originally designed to follow two brothers, Walter and Gregory, as they travel the Land of the In-Between to track down pages from a book of forgotten stories after signing themselves into a contract with a devil named, Old Scratch. However, McHale had difficulties creating a larger story arc for the series and as a result, it was placed on hold for a number of years.

McHale would go on to storyboard for The Misadventures of Flapjack (makes sense why I got that vibe) and co-develop the famous Adventure Time where he would serve as Creative Director and eventually, as a writer. After having more experience underneath his belt, Cartoon Network returned to McHale and asked if he would like to pilot another series. McHale, then, returned to Tome of the Unknown; polished it up; pitched it to the network again; and it would pilot on Cartoon Network in 2013. After having piloted the episode, McHale sat down with the network again where they would decide that instead of an entire, full-blown series, they would simply trim it to a mini-series that would air over 5 days. It was initially envisioned as an 18 chapter (or 18 episode) series but due to budget and time constraints, it was trimmed down to 10 episodes

The interesting thing about this series is that I don’t think I’ve ever had the opportunity to experience another cartoon as dark yet oddly whimsical as this series. In some regards, I would almost like to call it a darker version of Studio Ghibli’s Howl’s Moving Castle but even then, I don’t think that it would actually do this series justice with that sort of comparison. As I was watching this series, I couldn’t help but feel a similar feeling as when I played those one-sentence stories games as a kid. You know which one I’m talking about! Everyone is gathered in a circle, or a campfire in my case, and each person had to say a sentence that would add to the story. You couldn’t change what the previous person said, but you could change the context of how it would affect the story. 

For example, if someone said a sentence along the lines of, “Trapped inside the closet, Susie began to cry loudly and alerted the monster of her hiding place.” that doesn’t exactly leave you with a whole lot to work with. Your immediate conclusion is that the monster will find Susie and that she will be eat/maimed/destroyed/etc. However, with a little bit of creativity, you can change the situation to something like this, “Susie, frantically searching for some sort of weapon to defend herself, finds a panel on the back wall of the closet that leads to some place that was not part of the house.” This can lead you to a crazy situation where Susie might find Narnia, or another dimension that is almost exactly like this one, or that there’s a curse on the house because a body in this secret, unmapped room of the house. The situation that you start with won’t be the situation you end with and the only rules are that you can’t undo what was already said and you can only add one sentence. And this is what I felt was going on.

Rampaging gorillas became long-lost loves in animal suits. Graves dug for the main characters ended up being skeletons for pumpkin people. Ferry rides for frog people turned out being a migration for hibernation. The things that you expected would turn on their heads very suddenly and what seemed terrible and fraught with dangers, would end rather cheerfully and full of hope. I felt like it was such an important lesson for young and old alike and I’m very happy this ended up being such a staple theme of the series.

As a sibling myself, I thought that the brother interactions were pretty accurate enough. Wirt likes to blame his brother for all his woes and get rather annoyed with his upbeat attitude; it was funny how much of my younger self I saw in Wirt and there were so many times I had to laugh and cringe at the true renditions of being a Freshman in high school. Greg never dumb, or naive which is something many, many cartoons like to paint younger siblings. I will easy admit that my brother is a whole lot smarter than I was at his age. (Doesn’t make him less of a brat but still!) So having Greg be that rock for Wirt and to help stabilize him when he starts overthinking things and panicking underneath the responsibility of taking care of him was such a refreshing thing to see in cartoons. It felt oddly real.

Some of the shining jewels in this series’s crown is how heartwarming and touching some of the more serious moments of the series is. In the last episode, I found myself fighting back tears despite the fact that I already knew what type of end was coming. (Of course, things were turned on their head as they always were but regardless.) These heart-to-heart discussions and these moments of #realtalk really tugged at my heartstrings and made me feel about ten years younger. But even the whimsical moments were always fun and weird. Did some of the humor fall flat? Yeah, but that’s also because it wasn’t meant for me. Other instances of humor however had me snickering at the realism of such an absurd situation. It was simply a pleasure to watch. 

It’s darker tones and moments of horror is such an interesting thing to see in a children’s medium that it almost becomes a rare thing to pull off well. For those of you who grew up with Courage the Cowardly Dog, I’m sure you remember at least a portion of the fear you used to have watching a couple of these episodes. But one of the interesting things about Courage is that there was never any threat of death in the series. Courage’s family might be turned into battle robots, or turned into grotesque creatures, or some unknown horrific happenstance occur, but never really any threat of death. In this series however, that’s the main threat that prevails throughout the course of events. By the end of the series, we know why this is the case, but that still doesn’t make it any less of a gutsy move by its creators. On top of this, it’s so cool and interesting to see all of the little Easter eggs that plant in each episode that point to the twist at the end of the series. Although the series may be a bit too scary for younger kids, you can easily see that this series was intended for as many audiences as they could fit into such a short run.

I think the little things in this series is what shines through the most. The soundtrack was stellar, oh my word!! The voice acting, although at first seemed pretty generic, really fit the tone of the series and breathed life into these quirky characters. Even though the animation itself is pretty cheap (Flash animation isn’t the greatest ya’ll), the backgrounds are stunning to look at and the character designs were very creative and interesting to watch. Each part of this animation played well into the other to the point that the entire piece felt like a wonderful, cohesive whole. Not many cartoons can say that. Not many pieces of art can say that. For that, I salute the entire team of Over The Garden Wall for creating something so wonderful to indulge in. Although part of me wishes that this could have been a full series, I realize that to do so would ruin the good of what I have, so I am content to leave things as they are. However, if anyone has a suggestion for any similar series, send them to my inbox because I will definitely check it out. 

For many people, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Halloween/Christmas tradition. For others, many like to watch Soul Eater for its spooky themes. Still others will watch classic scary movies like Psycho, or The Shining, or Nightmare on Elmstreet for their scares. 

For me, this’ll be my new Halloween tradition. The harvest-time aesthetic. The Halloween-like themes. All of it screams everything Halloween was for me growing up and man, did I love enjoy this piece of media.

Overall, this series easily rates a 9 out of 10 on my scale. 

It has very few flaws in it (even now I’m having a hard time picking them out) but they’re still there. Perfection is such a hard thing to achieve so I doubt there will ever be a series that reaches a 10/10 on my scale but the fact that it got a 9? It speaks volumes to this series.

I’ll gladly watch this every Halloween. I wouldn’t even mind watching this even more than once a year. I heartily recommend this series to everyone who hasn’t watch it before, even if you don’t like the more bizarre series of Flapjack and Adventure Time. I do adore this series. And it will forever hang in my Hall of Fame for being such a beautiful and fantastic series. 

If there are any corrections you’d like to make in regards to this post, please feel free to send me a message with your corrections and I’ll get back to it as soon as I can!

Do you remember a cartoon your friends have never heard of? Got a scene from an animated film that you’re dying to know the name to? Send your questions to The Cartoon Archivist and I’ll see what I’ve got in the vault!

#over the garden wall #otgw #Cartoon network #2010~2015 #miniseries #weekly spotlight #halloween traditions #god I want to watch again already #I literally binged this series yesterday but I still wanna watch it again #i have a problem

[bloodandrosesarenofun]

Dear Diary.

🎶Medicine - Daughter🎶

I started this blog as a way to keep track of my thoughts. To vent you know? The one place I could be emotional and be myself outside of people. Hell. Truthfully I didn't think those people could let me be me either.

This past few months, have been hell and heaven all in one. My brother and I don't fight so much anymore, and we support each other again, that's all I've wanted for a long time for us. We talk and we watch videos and we find ways to be deep when we don't speak. I feel better about it. My mum, is just as difficult I think. She does things like go out of her way to support my friend in ways she won't even support me. Or cry in the kitchen telling us about her depression but dismissing and belittling my mental state. She's hard to deal with, and I know I shouldn't be, but when she said she has depression, I felt so angry at her. How does she get to say that? To feel emotions so publicly? When she tells me things like I'm crazy, like I'm attention seeking, like I'm just some stupid kid, and not her child. My best friend of five years, they left me. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, and maybe I left them. The relationship had gotten so toxic, and she had gotten so cruel. Saying things to me like I would never be enough to notice it was wrong, how he never loved me. How he can't. He invited me to say something to him, essentially to groval at his feet. It was a lot to say no. When he'd said how horrible of a person I am. A lot of people have said that this past year. Even my parents. Wirt, he's something special. I feel lighter when I'm with him. Ever since warped tour it's like we could talk endlessly for days without ever getting tired of each other or running out of things to say. We've been almost inseparable in that we text near everyday at least once, and we see each other often. I've gotten so much out of being around him, and I think this is the first time I've felt so heavily that I love the person I am around somebody. I love who I am with him. I am myself with him. But I glow, I'm happy, I don't get happy for long. The other night I went to see him, and we spent twelve straight hours just talking, uninterrupted, smiling and laughing even when I didn't think I could. He saw me have an anxiety attack out of nowhere and despite my visit being to make sure he was okay, he took care of me. I found something I've never had in him. Kaneki, my other friend, has actually oddly I think gotten clouser. He's been around since we were fifteen with nowhere to go, and he's here when we're eighteen with only an idea of where we want to go. He opened up to me about his depression and I always knew, we sort of talked around it, but it feels nice to know he can tell me. It may seem dreary, but it was a way to open the year with trust. I feel like he's a friend I need, I'm thankful to have him in my life. Both my dads..they're a subject all their own and it's a mess. I still don't go to mi abeula y abeulo's house. I still have trouble talking to my grandparents at home, but I stand up for myself more. I sing louder. I'm picking back up my instruments and language. I'm depressed right now.

I think my parents may get a divorce.

I haven't written in this blog like this in a while, and I don't know if it was the depression making me feel like it's a chore, or there being too much to write. But since the last time I did, it seems crazy to have turned this blog into a writerblr, but it makes sense. Because what better way to be who I am than through my art? I'm not going to stop journaling though, because in an odd way it's apart of my writing, it's a part of my art. Art is all I know what to do with the heartache and the water, when I'm not hurting myself. I've been clean for a long time.

I almost broke, the other night, but I didn't. Because of Wirt, or because of Kaneki, or because I made it so far, or because I remember being happy I'm not sure. Maybe because of them all. I thought of how to hide the scars, where to do it, how they'd heal before I saw Wirt so he wouldn't know, I planned it all. Then I didn't. I feel a strength in that. There's a strength in that.

Tonight is a hard night. I think my mum triggered a really hard hitting depression bought, she all but called me a little runaway when I came home from Wirt's. You know, when he had to drive my ass home because I was too incoherent to pick myself off his floor let alone take my bus route home alone in the dark for at least an hour. Or wait downtown at night for an hour if my bus ran early. But I didn't tell her that, and instead of asking she simply assumed. That I didn't call on purpose or I didn't leave his house to spite her. To be vindictive and better than everyone because I see people as pawns. She said how I lie, and how she knows how I am because I'm a runaway, and how I'm naive, and how I think the world is great. As I'm coming down from an anxiety attack. That I can't tell her about. That Wirt checked on me and took care of me and drove me home for, but my mother would blame on me, or say it's a trick, or say I overreact to things. Always trying to make up problems. In the eyes of so many that should have only loved me, I am arrogant and cruel. Wirt and Kaneki are some of the only people I never feel see me that way. That I feel safe around. And my teachers. I still remember Timothy scolding the other children for calling me a girl, because I couldn't talk for myself. That'll never leave me. None of those moments will. They get me through these days.

I feel scared, because I have a meeting with one of my teachers I'm not out to, and I think I may tell her. I want poetry to be honest. I don't want to have to stifle myself or dance around pronouns, but I feel so new, and talking is hard again. I guess it's just something I have to re-learn. I've done it before.

I'm also scared, because I like Wirt, I think I do. I don't know if that feeling is going away, or if he feels the same, and it scares me, because I don't want things to be different between us, but if he does I don't want him to think I don't? I've never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or significant other. I don't know what to do here or how to tell. It takes me forever to develop a crush, and little things don't last long, but there's something about him. I want to keep him as close as we are, I don't want to ruin it. But can I just gush for a moment? He's beautiful. As a person and physically. His eyes are the kind of green I want to find the right paints to recreate, and he's soft but he's resilient and stands his ground, and his hair changes colours from the dyeing in the nicest ways, it's wavy and messy and it fits him. He's got the cutest way of doing small things. The way he says my name when I've done something ridiculous, or gives his surgergical bandages quizzical looks, or complains about things in the kindest ways he can find so he doesn't hurt anyone, or laughs, or awes at me and points out my endearing traits. It's almost like he's looking at a puppy, and I get- shy? But I don't tell him to stop it like I do with everyone else. I don't feel as defensive, and I want to be better around him, I never feel like the kicked puppy in the street side. It's nice. I love the way we understand each other and the way we look at each other and the way we laugh together and take care of each other and aren't afraid to say we love each other. I've never had something like him. The things I do. Like we were in his car, and everything had closed it was late, but we rolled the seats back and leaned back in his car, and we wound up getting kind of quiet, and watching each other, smiling because we were having such a good time and also because the stareing should've been awkward, and all I wanted to do was lean over and kiss him. I kept wondering if it was okay, and being grateful the car was so dark in case my face and neck went red (for any one who's read Life and Death I blush as easily and much the same way as Beau), and if he ever looked at my lips and thought of kissing me too. I wanted him holding me when I was having a rough time. I want to just drive somewhere with him, screaming because life is exasperating some days and laughing because we have each other though, this whole week because I'm exasperated. I told him, and I can't beileve I did, when we were having a r o u g h night and finally found each other after getting lost "I hate our fucking lives! We are the best thing we have in our lives. We are all we have going for us, just each other." and I said it because my heart was in my throat and we'd gotten lost in not the best place at not the best time and spent hours either waiting, searching, or screaming and had each other's backs through the whole escapade and I'd had a shitty month and he had too and work was eh and our plans had been smashed with a hammer but we were still there, so by that point that's how I felt. I know, a mad man's sentence. But at the time I barely had any time to think about it because he was screaming too and we were just trying to drive away. Every time I think about him in a less than platonic way I just- get scared I'll ruin it, but think about if it works? Gods. I'm like a gay cliche fic but with two demisexuals. Diary it's almost six a.m. and I should sleep. As to be expected the depression won't let me sleep much. Hopefully that'll change soon. I'm sure I'll be back writing regularly so. I have so much shit to blab about and expand on.

It's sad though, that I'm already crying again.

But it's that weird sort of crying? That I have depression and I don't feel it but my face is leaking gently crying. I hope this feeling goes away soon.

Me and Wirt are planning a trip to the next town over, and I'm just hoping to have some trip where we sleep over soon. Not for sex potential, gods no we're very ace leaning and he's been walking around with his shirt off for days yet I feel like nothing (try wooing a rock and you got me. That's my difficulty level), but because when you sleep around someone there's something that's said there. That you guys maybe never would have said other wise. He'd maybe probably know about my tossing and turning and my insomnia and how I cry and just want to be held or gold somebody so I use things like my Shamoo plushie or the big bear my mum's ex gave her that she gave me (can we honestly get some positivity for the fact this is potentially not as a weird a thing at my age like when you have s e v e r e depression?) and that I need specific pillows to sleep and maybe probably that I have a tendency to if things are super bad or I'm in an unfamiliar space scream, cry, yell, thrash, or say things that aren't the most cheery and least disturbing in my sleep. I'd maybe probably learn about equally as well kept secrets he has. We may tell each other things we never would've shared before. I find that there's something about when you know you won't leave each other till the daylight, about three a.m. conversations and waking up to each other in the morning. Something vulnerable. I don't know if I trust him with all that yet, if I can tell him, or let him see me when I don't let anyone else. Anxiety attack was wow, impressive that I trust him that much, that I knew he wouldn't hurt me or make it worse when it's so ingrained in me that that's all people do. But I'd be so scared to sleep, scared to wake him with my screams, or wake up too close to him because I move in my sleep, or wake him up with something disturbing. The last unfamiliar place I slept in I literally slept on the floor to keep people from being disturbed and because I am that uncomfortable sleeping in the bed with people (but I think weirdly if I was okay with this I'd be shyly okayyyy with sharing a bed if needed? Like I wouldn't be dramatic about it in a "I'll just sleep on the floor" but maybe in a "are you sure-?" About ten times) and I woke up like- breathing heavily and saying "Stop! Stop! Stop!" and I'd bruised my arm hitting it on something and I think I was crying and I had to sit by someone else for a while and calm down before I could go back to sleep like holy shit it was bad I was literally shaking. THAT is probably alarming if anyone had woken up like whoever shares a bed with me needs a whole ass like debriefing beforehand because I seem like I'm on some shit but my mental state can just genuinely get t h a t bad. Screaming and crying and actually injuring myself in my sleep bad. I really wonder if anybody else has these problems like ask me how often I slept over at anyone's house? These issues have been with me for years.

Maybe I dread and look forward to it.

No. I think just- as fucked up as I am and as much as he's told me about how he gets at night I think it'd be a mess? But equally. Like both of us doing weird and concerning shit but also both of us supporting each other and loving each other and so it's okay in a way. So I feel like it'd be insane to be at that level with him where we'd be completely comfortable with showing each other that side of ourselves and comfort each other without judgement. I know me and Kaneki have had the weirdest conversations at those late times.

I'm a late times person.

💤

Until next time,

LHayes

Sign off.

#depression #lhayes #sad #stress reliver #writing #journal #things i write #anxiety #lgbtq #tagging mainly for myself #self harm #self love #friendship #love

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Oneirataxia - George Weasley x Reader

Request: hey can you write something very angsty for george weasley and a revenclaw reader pleassee?? something about his twin fred always being the first and george feeling slightly jealous (just a harmless and completely normal type of jealousy, mind, not something destructive) but for the first time ever, for the reader it's always been george in her eyes, something like that lol sorry if it's confusing. Warnings: My English, language. Pic and gif aren't mine. Credits to their original owners. Also, guys, I’m gonna wirte whichever request happens to inspire me more and not chronologically.  Oneirataxia: The -inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality Word Count~ 1.5k MASTERLIST Pending Requests

It has been Fred and George since they were born. Always Fred and George. And it was never an issue that George came second. He was perfectly fine with who he was and what he was doing. A bit more shy than his twin brother, a bit more of a planner than a doer, a bit more awkward with girls. Especially with his Ravenclaw friend. She had been their friend for quite a while, and even though she didn't agree with their pranks in the beginning, she had even planned a couple of pranks with him, never executing them of course. She wasn't just your typical Ravenclaw. Yes, she was clever and smart and all that. But she was creative and supportive, brave and cunning, gentle and soft but fierce and passionate. She could kill with one pointed look and she could heal with one meaningful touch. She had become part of the package and even spent Christmas with his family and Molly, loved her. George was pretty much sure that she liked his brother. He thought it was cute... until he realized that he was jealous. He wasn't a Ravenclaw but he didn't have to be to figure out what it meant. And it drove him insane. However, he kept it a secret, made his peace with it and just kept pretending that he just wanted to be her friend and he actually thought he could get over her. Until too much alcohol was trapped in his veins. Fred was flirting with her. Fred had to flirt with her of all the girls he could possibly want. He had never thought that Fred was the better one... sure, people didn't even recognize who was who and still preferred Fred, somehow. And yes, it had been a tad unsettling but it was okay with him. Fred was the first in the famous duo. It was strange, he had thought. People would expect him to be furious about that but he was simply a bit jealous. But this. This was something brothers would never do. Of course, Fred had no clue of his brother's feelings but that didn't stop George from wanting nothing more than to be the one for once. Fred winked at her and she shook her head with a smile on her face, as she made her way towards George. He shifted unconsciously, trying to avoid her glance but failed. Big time. He downed another shot of firewhiskey just in case he ever needed to talk to her. She just smiled brightly at him, reminding him of the galaxy and it's chaotic beauty, mesmerizing and never his. She was close enough for him to recognize the perfume she was wearing. It was his gift. The smell of her perfume reminded him of sleepless nights that were spent stargazing and talking until the first light of the sun. It made his heart squeeze in a strange yet familiar way that told him what his mind didn't want to accept. He wasn't over her but for her, it had never even begun, he thought bitterly. He knew he never had a real chance with her, yet here he was, hoping for one glance of hers, wishing that it wasn't just him and trying to stop his soul from being sucked into that chaos which already existed inside him. Because of her. She was pain. She was torture and fire. And he, like Icarus, was flying too close to the sun. He didn't mind to get burnt; what he did mind was that he could the one for her if only she would give him the chance to prove it to her. She was playing with his mind, messing around like she owned the place. But she liked his brother. It was always his twin. He would never hate her. It wasn't her fault. Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe. He had tried to hate her - it had made him fall in love even harder. It was her damn perfume, for fuck's sake. And she was right beside him. Maybe, she knew about his feelings and tried to make things worse. Or she just thought he was Fred. That hurt even more. Maybe he was just lost. Maybe he wanted another shot or something to distract him from her. Because she was about to slip away from his fingers like water. He became bitter, like poison in his mouth. "You do know, I'm not Fred, right?" he asked her ironically and she just quirked her eyebrow at him but didn't make any remark, which wasn't something she would normally have done. "I'm very well aware, George.But you are completely drunk. Maybe you should go sleep it off, honey" she told him with concern in her voice, while she came closer to him and even placed her hand on his chest. He became furious with her and his twin. He tried to step back from her touch like she had betrayed him but almost fell on his butt as she simply giggled. He wasn't thinking about tomorrow or the consequences... he was just consumed of his feelings- and oh well, alcohol. "Just stop. Stop. Go and snog Fred! Don't do this to me. I'm in love with you and you want Fred!It's always my twin brother. Never me. So, go on. Go" he ranted on but he had failed to notice her face falling and her heart aching. "What are you talking about?" she whispered like she couldn't breathe. He ignored her and walked away, heading to his dorm. For a moment she stood still, not knowing how to react but soon enough she decided to face him drunk or not. It was such a shame for two people who clearly felt the same way about each other, not to be together because one of them was such a douche. "What an idiot" she remarked on her own and went to his room, leaving the Gryffindor party, hoping to get the Gryffindor's heart. He was seated on his bed, doing nothing more than staring at the sky outside the window of his room. Deep inside him, he knew that Fred wasn't to blame, neither was her - he had approached her first, anyway. "Georgie?". Her voice was clear in the dead of the night. A shiver ran down his spine... he noticed the way her hair was cascading down her face, brushing against her delicate neck...the way her eyes sparked and her full pink lips, frowning... it just made his heart ache. "What more do you want from me, love?" he whispered rather raspy yet pained. "You" she admitted without any signs of shyness or hesitation. It hadn't been easy for her, realizing that even though she had a crush on him back when they were just eleven, and despite that she had tried to get over it she was still very much mesmerized by him. She actually felt inspired by him. She admired his entire soul. He was smart, creative, rather shy and well, she didn't have a choice. Her heart had stopped at him, her eyes had stopped and got lost in his. All those late night talks, all those shy smiles, all those touches... they had never been friendly. She cared about him...more than that. He thought he had heard something wrong, but honestly, what else could she have said? It was a word that changed his entire mood and perspective. He didn't dare to make the first move, not after the time he had gotten completely rejected - actually, crushed. And she, well, it was the first time she ever acted on her feelings and told him... It was liberating. "Me?" he husked out, literally staring at her. "You" she let a small laugh too. "Not Fred?" he asked her again, slowly realizing it. "You" she truthfully answered him, making his insecurities disappear. When did reality become better than his dreams?

"Well, can you believe it?! I got detention!" Fred exclaimed as he sat down for breakfast. George smiled at her and she nodded her head. "Well, I got the girl" he said triumphantly and leaned down to kiss her, with a genuinely happy smile, making Fred chock on his tea

Tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @geeksareunique

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #golden trio era #george weasley fanfiction #reader insert #fanfiction #imagine #harry potter

[empatheticfoxwritings]

Autumn Leaves - Chapter 8

The Ocean Meets the Sky 

Everything was warm.

His mind was a haze of comfort and security. His head rested against the other boy’s chest. The steady rise and fall lulled him to sleep. They could have laid there for hours, with Wirt’s arms wrapped around him and his palms pressed against his back. Legs were tangled together and a blanket covered the two completely, shutting them away from the outside world. The butterbeer they shared had made them both slightly tipsy enough to head back to the dorm early. After multiple drugging kisses, they both dozed off on the common room couch. Dipper didn’t know how long they had slept for, nor did he care. He could stay there forever, his heartbeat synced with Wirt’s.

However, it wasn’t Wirt’s shifting that woke him up. It was the soft hitches in his breathing and the way his heart sped up. His hands tightened and loosened on Dipper’s shirt and he whimpered quietly. Dipper propped himself up and his heart beat painfully in his chest. Even in his nightmares, Wirt tried to hide his pain. He won’t be alone, not when I’m here.

“Wirt,” He squeezed his hands lightly “Come on, Wirt. It’s just a dream.”

“N-No...You can’t take him…” Wirt whimpered and wiggled away.

“Wirt, no one is going to take him. Wake up, Wirt. I’m here.” Dipper held on to him despite his wiggling. He rubbed up and down his arms trying to pull him out of this nightmare.

“No-no….Dipper!” Wirt jolted awake with a shout. His eyes were wide and shifted all over the room. He clutched his chest and his breathing was erratic.

Dipper knew that all these signs added up to a panic attack.

“Wirt, shh, it’s okay.” He moved off of Wirt’s lap in case he needed space. “It’s me, okay? It’s just me.”

“D-Dipper?” Wirt wheezed. “Y-you’re o-okay?”

“I’m fine, Wirt. I’m okay.” Dipper tried to catch his eyes but they merely flicked in every other direction. “What do you need?”

“I-I…..I just,” Wirt pawed at Dipper’s shirt. Tears began to pour down his cheeks as he panted. “Y-You, I just need you Dipper. H-Hold me...p-please.”

Dipper didn’t need any further invitation. He pulled Wirt into his lap and hugged him tightly. He hushed his whimpers and stroked his hair. Dipper knew what Wirt was going through, nightmares common for him. Panic attacks were something he suffered from too but, he never thought he would deal with these things with Wirt. The boy looked fragile as shutters racked his body. Wirt wasn’t supposed to deal with these problems, he didn’t deserve this kind of pain. To fight back his own tears, he wiped the ones pouring down Wirt’s cheeks and rocked him softly.

Everything was cold.

He was in that lake again, dark tendrils dragging him down further. They felt like hands as they wrapped around his neck and pulled him down. Greg was screaming for him but he couldn’t move, he was paralyzed. A black figure emerged from the inky black water and held Greg in its claws.

“Wirt! Save me, help me!”

He tried to shout back but icy water filled his lungs with each breath. No, let him go! Take me instead! He thrashed and kicked despite the pain. Every dream, his movements are futile but he continues despite it all.

“What are you waiting for Wirt?”

That voice, the Beast. Wirt’s thrashing increased. No, you can’t take him.

“What? Do you not care for him anymore now that you have found someone else?”

Wirt screamed as the beast touched his face. Cold, everything is cold. In the black abyss, he felt tears sting his cheeks.

“Maybe, you need more motivation. Let’s see how you feel when I plunge this ax into your lover’s chest.”

The beast snapped his fingers and Greg was gone. Another form replaced him, a form in the shape of another boy. No... anyone but him.

“Wirt, please save me. I know you can do it. I believe in you.”

Wirt screamed impossibly louder and attempted to bite himself free from the binds. Dipper believed in him but it was to no avail. Wirt couldn't even save himself. He wouldn’t let him have Dipper. No, the beast couldn’t have him.

“This is your last chance, pilgrim.”

The beast that haunted him and tortured him, raised the ax above the only man that he trusted completely with himself. Wirt sobbed brokenly and tore a binding only for it to grow back and bite into his wrists.

“So be it.”

The ax swung down and plunged into Dipper stomach. The look of complete despair and anger in his eyes shocked him out of his nightmare.

“Wirt, shh, it’s okay.” He felt something move off his lap. “It’s me, okay. It’s just me.”

Wirt’s chest and head pounded as he struggled for breath. He was still underwater, he had to be. The Beast, Dipper, no not him. The hands were still around his neck. Where am I? He felt hands squeeze his own and his darting eyes attempted to focus. Dipper, Dipper is here. Is he?

“D-Dipper?” Wirt wheezed and frantically searched the room he was in. “Y-you’re o-okay?”

“I’m fine, Wirt. I’m okay….What do you need?”

He needed air, he needed to be free from the bindings, he needed Dipper.

“I-I…..I just,” Wirt pawed at him, eyes finally focusing. “Y-You, I just need you Dipper. H-Hold me...p-please.”

Dipper pulled him into his lap and shushed him softly. Wirt closed his eyes and tried to focus on getting air to his lungs. Little whimpers spilled from him, still unsure of what was happening.

“Wirt, you’re here with me. Where ever you were, you’re not there. It was just a dream.” Dipper rocked him and breathed calmly and deeply, trying to coax Wirt into breathing with him. An idea came to him, a song that his mother would sing to him after a night terror. It might not work but it was damn worth a try.

“Hush now, my Storeen. Close your eyes and sleep.” He sang shakily. He tucked Wirt’s head under his chin, close to his chest. “Waltzing the waves, diving the deep. Stars are shining bright. The wind is on the rise, whispering words of long-lost lullabies.”

His calming voice and the rise and fall of his chest brought Wirt back to where he was. Where he needed to be. He closed his eyes and focused on Dipper’s lullaby.

“Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the moon is made of gold. And in the morning sun, we’ll be sailing. Oh, won’t you come with me? Where the ocean meets the sky and as the clouds roll by,” Dipper placed a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll sing the song of the sea.”

“You okay?” Dipper rubbed his back and pressed another kiss to his hair.

“I-I think so.” His voice came out raspy. “Dipper I…..thank you.”

“Mm-mm. You don’t need to thank me. Was just worried about you.”

“Y-yeah,” Wirt snuggled closer. “It was a n-nightmare. I get them s-sometimes, I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay, man. I-” He hesitated but decided that it was okay to share. “I have nightmares too. I even had night t-terrors when I was little. I know how you feel.”

“Oh,” That’s why Dipper knew how to take care of him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s okay. D-Do you want to talk about it or?”

Wirt pondered the idea of sharing his childhood horrors with him. He had already talked about Beatrice but there were holes in that story. Like how he had gone back to that lake that haunted him and what he saw that day. He wanted to but he had already screwed up the perfect date they were having and now was not the time. It would be saved for another day.

“N-Not right now. I want to tell you, I just don’t want to do it r-right now.”

“That’s okay, Wirt.” He kissed his nose and then rubbed them together. “You don’t have to but if you ever do, I’ll be right here.”

“The same goes for you,” Wirt smiled softly, eyes sparkling. “You have a wonderful voice.”

Dipper turned ruby red and wiggled beneath him. “W-What? No, I don’t. It was- That was a song my mom sang. I’m no singer.”

“Hmm, I have to disagree. It was a beautiful song, though. Thank you so much.” He leaned in and connected their lips in a shy kiss. He blushed, kissing a new concept and still shy about it.

Dipper’s crimson face faded to a light pink. He leaned in for a deeper kiss. As their lips connected, Dipper placed his hands on Wirt’s cheeks. He rubbed his thumb softly beneath his eyes and sighed into the kiss. Safe, home, love. That’s what Wirt was. It didn’t matter what his nightmares were about, Dipper would protect him from anything.

Wirt pulled out of the kiss and looked down. “I-I’m sorry for ruining today.”

“What? No, you didn’t,” Dipper refused to let him pull away so he pressed their foreheads together. “This day has been perfect. You’re perfect. I want to be with you, man. Every part of you and that includes any demons you have locked up.”

“But I-” Wirt sighed and pushed away his worries. “...I don’t know how I can be with you if all you’re this sweet all the time. I think you’ll end up killing me.”

“Come on,” Dipper laughed “I have to keep up with your cuteness. Besides, I won’t kill you. I like your face too much.”

“If you say so.” Wirt snorted. “I like your face quite a bit too.”

“Are you two going to kiss or am I going to have to shove you together?”

Dipper jumped and clunked their foreheads together. “Mabel! What?! How long have you been there?”

“Too long,” She laughed. “Looks like your date went well, Dip.”

“Oh my god, I hate you!” He chucked a throw pillow at her which she caught with a giggle. “Can’t you embarrass someone else instead?”

“I’m not here to embarrass you, I’m here to embarrass, Wirt.” She threw the pillow at Wirt which hit him square in the face. “Hi, worry Wirt.”

“Hi,” He grumbled and rubbed his brow, still sore from bashing into Dipper’s. “For the record, I’m a worrier because there are people like you that exist.”

“Aw! You’re too sweet!” She giggled and pulled a small parcel from her glittery pink bag.”Just because I adore my love birds so much I picked you both something up from Honeydukes.”

Dipper’s expression softened at the wrapped parcel. He took it and opened it to find several bonbons with hearts frosted on top. He smiled at Wirt and pressed a kiss to his temple. Despite Mabel’s over-the-top personality, she was honestly the sweetest person in the whole world.

“Thanks, Mabes.”

“You’re welcome! Now, what did you get for me?”

Dipper’s fondness for his twin disappeared immediately and he stuck his tongue at her. “Your gift is our presence.”

“Lame,” She drawled but her eyes sparkled at the arm Dipper had wrapped around Wirt’s waist. “You still going to take Mallow out for a bit today?”

“Oh shoot,” Dipper frowned. “I completely forgot.”

“Mallow?” Wirt blinked at him.

“Marshmallow, the creature Dipper loves more than anything in this world.” Mabel’s eyes turned wicked. “Well, besides you of course.”

“Get out!” Dipper picked up his shoes from the floor and flung them at his evil twin. “God, you’re the worst!”

Wirt rubbed his chest idly. Mabel was probably joking but the ruby red blush on Dipper’s face showed that she may not be completely far off. What was more alarming was the way his own heart sped up at the declaration. One date and he’s already thinking about love. Talk about fast.

Mabel ducked past Dipper’s shoe arsenal and skipped out the common room entrance. “ Au revoir, lovers!”

Dipper huffed and slouched on the sofa with a pout. His face was still crimson and his arms were crossed like an angry toddler. He’s so adorable. Instead of keeping this fact to himself, Wirt decided to share. The feelings he had been carrying around for this boy had been reciprocated and he didn’t want to hold anything back from him. He lightly poked his cheek.

“As much as I love your adorable pout, I would much rather see you smile.” Dipper peered at him beneath his eyelashes and it took all of Wirt to not gasp. His poke turned into a soft stroke as he smiled at Dipper. Dipper shyly matched his smile with his own.  “There it is. Your smile is one to rival the sun.”

“And yours, to rival all the stars in the universe.”

Oh. Wirt was not expecting something as equally romantic in return. It caught him so off guard he was left speechless. Dipper’s giggles brought him back to reality. Reality or an incredible dream he never wanted to wake up from? Wirt really wasn’t sure anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Dipper tried to stifle his giggles. “It’s just your face is priceless.”

Wirt puffed his cheeks indignantly but couldn’t help laughing as well. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“Hm, well” Dipper threaded their fingers together “it’s absolutely true.”

Wirt beamed and squeezed Dipper’s hand. “So, tell me. Who is this Marshmallow?”

“Marshmallow or Mallow as we call her sometimes is my Pharaoh Eagle Owl. She’s my pride and joy.”

“Wait, a Pharaoh Eagle? You own that beautiful owl that always greets me at the owlery?” Wirt held their entwined hands to his chest.

“You’ve met her then? She’s very sweet but she’ll pawn any treats you have on you.”

“Yes, I have!” Wirt practically bounced. “She’s the sweetest. Let’s go see her and Beatrice!”

“How could I resist?” Dipper pulled Wirt up tugged him along.

“Wait, Dipper.” Wirt chuckled. “You don’t have any shoes on.”

“Who needs shoes when there is adventure afoot?” Dipper grabbed his shoes quickly, regardless, and continue to tug Wirt along.

The two sat on a clear patch of stone in the owlery. Mallow sat perched on Wirt’s arm as he stroked her feathers softly. Dipper laid his head on Wirt’s shoulder, the boy quietly accepting that it was his favorite place to lay. Beatrice sat snuggled up in a ball next to Dipper, snoozing away. They sat in peaceful silence with the occasional noises of the other birds of prey around them as they shuffled about.

As the sun began to set in the distance, Dipper let out a soft content sigh and he let the words he was meaning to say slip from him.

“Wirt?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

Dipper glanced at him and saw the other boys face flush. He locked eyes with the younger boy and grinned impossibly wide. “Of course I will, you goofball.”

Dipper’s breath came out in a shaky sigh and pulled Wirt by the collar of his shirt into a kiss. It caught Wirt off guard, Mallow squeaked at Wirt’s sudden movement. Wirt quickly relaxed into the rough kiss and welcomed the attention Dipper, no his boyfriend, gave him.

Dipper ended the kiss and took a moment to just look at his boyfriend. He wanted to savor this moment a little longer. The crinkle in Wirt’s eyes, the awed expression he held, and the soft pink in his cheeks must be treasured. Embarrassment eventually reared its head and he had to look away. Dipper simply snuggled close against Wirt and quietly relished in how incredibly lucky he was.

Next, to him, Wirt sat and thought the exact same thing.

#autumn leaves #al #hogwarts au #dipper pines #pinescone #wirt #Over the Garden Wall #gravity falls #wirt x dipper #dipper x wirt #harry potter au #My writing #otgw #gf

[bakurapika]

coffeeshop au

“You have a front,” someone said in his ear.

It was true, Wirt reflected to himself. He did put up a front. Though Halloween had long passed, still he covered up his true face with a mask of calm collection, just as still waters on the surface of a lake could hold deep turbulence within them. But a mask is a flimsy disguise, and anyway, it wasn’t as though he’d even worn a real mask for his Halloween costume--imagine if he’d gotten stuck in the Unknown while wearing a plastic superhero mask or something. Would it have stayed on? Maybe he’d have gotten lucky and the mask would have been knocked aside as he fell in the water, just as his metaphorical mask had been.

“Front,” said the voice impatiently.

“Oh, right,” he said, dropping his wet cloth and scrambling to hit his mic button. “Sorry, sorry, I’ve got it.” Wirt wadded up the cloth into a ball and tossed it in the sanitizer bucket, almost slipping on the puddle it made as he skidded to the register.

“Hey, sorry about that wait, what can I get you?” he said (the words running together into one multisyllabic monstrosity, a product of reciting them so often). Wirt’s fake smile vanished when he recognized the customer in front of him. “Jason Funderberker,” he added bitterly.

“Heyyy, Wirt,” Jason said. The nasally greeting stretched on long enough for Wirt to glance at the clock on the monitor beside him. Two more hours on his stupid shift. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Wirt huffed. If Jason Funderberker planned on making small talk, he’d have to do it alone. “Yeah. What can I get you?” he repeated.

“I dunno…” Jason put his finger to his chin and tapped it, staring at the menu. “Uhhhhhhh. I feel like something… cold. Do you have anything cold?”

Wirt knew looks couldn’t kill but he tried anyway. “We can make everything cold. What sounds good to you.”

Jason hemmed and hawed. “Lemme get a… cah-fey mihst-o?”

“Cafe misto,” Wirt corrected. He usually didn’t bother correcting anyone on their drink orders if he knew what they meant. Jason was going to be an exception. “That’s, like, the one drink we can’t make cold. You managed to pick out the one drink we can’t make cold.”

“That’s okay,” Jason said with an easygoing shrug. “As long as it’s not too sweet. I don’t want anything real sweet.” A group of customers came in and got in line behind him; Wirt’s finger was hovering over the order screen, tapping out the cafe misto order and ready to pay.

“What size?” Wirt asked quickly.

“Oh, though, can you put some caramel in it? And some whip cream. And it has to be decaf.”

“We can do that as a pourover, it’ll be a few minutes,” Wirt said automatically, inwardly relishing the idea of keeping Jason Funderberker waiting at the bar for ten or fifteen minutes with a shrug and ‘oh, sorry, was that your drink?’ when he handed it off. “What size.”

“And make it with coconut milk, mm! I love coconut milk,” Jason continued conversationally. Another customer entered. Jason was officially holding up the line. “You know, last night, I made Sara this drink with coconut milk and lime, and she was like, ‘Jason, this is gross,’ but I told her--”

“You were with Sara last night?” Wirt’s voice was a squeak. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, his hand still hovering over the cup sizes.

“We were studying,” Jason said flippantly. “Everyone was there. Kathleen, Jimmy, the whole gang.” Wirt’s heart rate finally dipped back to a nearly healthy rate.

“O-oh,” he said weakly. “Good for Sara. Cup size?” Then he caught himself and stammered, “W-w-what size drink did you want again?” all in a rush.

“You should come hang out with us after work. We’re all gonna meet up here. I’m picking up their orders now.”

“There are more orders?” Wirt said weakly.

“Yeah. Okay, so Jimmy wanted a large vanilla bean--”

“Wait, wait, Jason Funderberker, what size did you want your drink?”

“Eh…” Jason frowned at the cup display beside him. “Your larges are small, right? And the other way around?”

“What? No!” Wirt picked up a cup and spent two full minutes explaining cup sizes before Jason decided on getting “a medium, I guess” and thankfully handed over his phone to Wirt to type in the study group’s orders.

“We’ll have that for you at the end of the bar,” Wirt said to Jason, who took his sweet time looking at the chocolate espresso beans and biscotti before finally moving out of the way for the customer behind him.

The other customers were either sympathetic or at least polite and fast, which was even better in Wirt’s eyes. The line dwindled down quickly and Wirt scooted over to the bar to help finish drinks.

The sticker machine had printed out all the orders, and while Wirt was inclined to gripe and groan about how impersonal the thing was, it did considerably speed up the process. He yanked a sticker off and was about to slap it on a cup when he saw the name.

* SARA * Gr Latte Add Hazelnut

His heart, having worked double-time when Sara was last brought up, decided to take a well-earned short vacation and skip a few beats.

He’d do latte art. He should give her latte art. That would be perfect.

Though when he steamed the milk and it spurted in Wirt’s face and all over the counter, he changed his mind.

“Right, okay,” he muttered underneath his breath as the milk screamed beside him, staring at the soulless logo on the cup as if it’d blink. “I’ll, I’ll draw on the cup. That would be nice, right?”

Another sticker printed out on the machine--a mobile order. Wirt had to hurry. He scribbled Sara’s name on the cup and poured the latte in a decidedly unartistic way.

And then, at the last second (and with a glance around to make sure she hadn’t arrived yet), Wirt scribbled a quick ♥︎ beside the name.

“Wirt, you ready for your ten?” came his shift supervisor’s voice in his ears.

“Yeah, just a second,” he said as he tapped the mic button.

The door opened. And there Sara was, chatting happily with Rhondi and strolling to the counter to see if her drink was ready.

It was now or never.

“Hazelnut latte for Sara! Thank you!” he called out, setting the cup on the bar and hurrying to the back of the cafe without a glance behind him.

She hadn’t noticed. She probably hadn’t noticed.

Wirt kept telling himself that for ten minutes straight as he whittled away his break, scribbling disconnected fragments of lines of poetry on an extra receipt that he stuck in his pocket at the end.

At least it was over. He could tell as soon as he came out on the floor that Sara’s group was gone, leaving a trail of scone crumbs and cafe misto splashes on the floor behind them. Wirt grumbled “Jason Funderberker” under his breath like it was a curse word and did a U-turn to grab a broom and dustpan.

He was so focused on concentrating all his Jason Funderberker hatred into what he hoped would be a psychic laser beam to zap the stupid smirk off Jason’s stupid face that he didn’t notice Sara until she touched his shoulder and said, “Wirt?”

He nearly jumped out of his skin and he did drop the dustpan handle with a clang! “S, Sara! What’re you doing here? I mean, your group, and, studying, and, Jason Funderberker.”

She smiled at him. “I wanted to thank you for the latte. I didn’t know you had a job here.”

“Yeah, well.” A nervous smile flitted across Wirt’s face in return as he bent to get the dustpan. “All in a day’s work?” That sounded stupid. He sounded so dumb. Where was all that sesquipedalian poetic loquaciousness when he needed it? “‘Cuz, I mean, yeah, I work here, I gotta… save up for college? Y’know?”

“School’s important,” Sara agreed. “Where were you thinking of going?”

“I’ve got a lot of places in mind?” Wirt phrased it like a question. “I, well, I want to talk about it, but I’m sort of on the clock, and, yeah.” He started sweeping again.

“You’re not getting behind on schoolwork with an after-school job?” Sara asked, fiddling with the coffee cup sleeve.

“It’s not too bad,” Wirt said, trailing off. He wanted to stare at her fingers as they undid the cardboard glue and folded the sleeve corner back and forth, but more than that, he wanted her not to know he was staring, so he watched the crumbs he was sweeping instead. Super interesting crumbs.

“There’s that big test in English, though,” Sara said. Wirt glanced up to see her pressing her lips together tightly and then smoothing them out, and he looked away before he’d get caught. “You should really spend some time studying. It’s easier with a partner.”

“Oh,” he started, and then said, “oh.”

Sara reached out to take his wrist. It got in the way of his sweeping but he let her, hoping she wouldn’t feel his pulse pounding again. “Come by my place after your shift, okay? Our group should be done in an hour, and I’ve got the evening free. We can study and quiz each other.”

Wirt laughed, then he wondered why he’d laughed. “Um, yeah, that, that sounds good! I’ll bring you my markout? I get, like, infinite free drinks too.”

“Awesome. Then let me order early: I want another latte just like this one. In case we need to stay up late.” Sara leaned in and pecked Wirt’s cheek. He was pretty sure he died on the spot, or maybe that he’d already died and gone to heaven, or maybe that he’d never gotten out of that lake after all. “I think they’re waiting for me in the car, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay!” came out of Wirt’s mouth. His hand reached up to touch his cheek, where she’d kissed him, but she was out the door before he realized it.

And then, not wanting to think about it, he kept sweeping. Until he heard the door open again and perked his head up.

“Wirt?”

But this voice wasn’t Sara’s.

“I don’t think my drink is right, it’s hot. Can I get another? Maybe one of your frap-ees? Those are healthy, right?”

With joy in his heart and murder in his eyes, Wirt went around the counter and checked the clock as Jason stumbled through a re-order.

One hour, thirty-five minutes.

Wirt could make it until then.

“What are your sizes, again?”

#otgw fic #mine #otgw #modern au #coffeeshop au

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 1 Chapter 2

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from the beginning / Next Chapter

Chapter 2

It took Coraline a moment to realize what lay outside the Ruins as the door closed behind her. The air was thick and cold, and as she stepped forward, her rainboots filled with snow. How did it snow underground?

She would have to go through the Underground alone, she realized, and at some point she would have to face whoever ASGORE was. It was going to be a lot more dangerous here on out. The adventure was over.

She tried to turn her attention to somewhere else.

“When I was a little girl,” Coraline started. “When we lived in our old house, my dad took me for a walk in the wastelands between the houses and shops. It wasn’t the best place to go for a walk, really. There were all these things that people had thrown away back there—old cookers and broken dishes and dolls with no arms and legs. Mom and Dad made me promise not to go exploring back there, because there were so many sharp things, and tetanus and such.”

A branch snapped behind her. Coraline continued anyway.

“But I kept telling them I really wanted to explore it. So my dad pulled on his big brown boots and gloves and put on my boots on me, and we went for a walk. We must have walked for about twenty minutes. We went down the hill, down the bottom of a gully where the stream was, when my dad said ‘Coraline, you have to get out of here. Right now!’ He said it in a tight urgent way, so I did. I ran up to the top of the hill when I heard him thundering behind me. He scooped me up into his arms and swept me over the hill.”

“really? what did he do then?”

Coraline nearly jumped as she heard the voice. Seeing who was addressing her didn’t exactly help. A human skeleton her size, looking at her with empty eye sockets.

“woah. you okay there, kid?” The skeleton asked. “i mean, i can’t say i know what ‘jumping out of your skin’ looks like…”

“You’re a skeleton!” Coraline managed to exclaim.

“and you’re not who I was looking for,” said the skeleton. “the name’s sans. sans the skeleton. you're a human, aren’t ya?”

Coraline watched the skeleton carefully. The human skeleton in any form looked more than a little intimidating on principle, yet curiosity quickly overcame that feeling. He was dressed peculiarly; blue sweatshirt and turtleneck to fight off the cold, yet shorts and slippers to make him comfortable. His mouth was stretched thin in a smile, but it hardly moved as he spoke. A thin layer of sweat formed on his brow, impressive considering he didn’t have any skin cells. He looked harmless enough, Coraline decided.

“I’m Coraline.”

“hilarious,” said sans. “listen, kid, we’re on the lookout for humans right now, so you better—”

“SANS!”

“oh geeze…hey, why don’t hide behind that lamp over there?”

Coraline barely had time to process that there was just a lamp on the outskirts of the forest before she dove behind it. Whoever that voice belong to, it did not sound friendly.

“relax, it’ll be fine, just let me—“

Sans stopped. Coraline heard the sound of snow crunching under boots as someone approached.

“sup bro?” sans asked.

“YOU KNOW WHAT’S SUP BROTHER!” The newcomer said. “IT’S BEEN EIGHT DAYS AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T RECALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES! WHAT DO YOU EVEN DO OUT HERE?”

“look at this lamp,” said sans. “pretty cool, ain’t it?”

“YES, IT IS VERY…SANS, WHAT IS THAT?”

Coraline froze.

“what? it’s just a lamp, isn’t it?”

“SOMETHING WAS MOVING BEHIND THAT LAMP! “  said the newcomer. “SANS, ARE YOU HIDING A HUMAN FROM ME?”

“uh…yeah.”

“GREAT!” The other person cleared their throat before continuing. “ATTENTION, HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU! I WILL THEN CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! AFTER THAT! I’M NOT SURE WHAT HAPPENS! IN ANY CASE, CONTINUE…ONLY IF YOU DARE! NYEH HEH HEH!”

The sounds of crunching snow grew fainter and fainter. Coraline only removed herself once it stopped completely.

“sorry about that,” sans said. “my brother can get a bit excited.”

“He said he was going to kidnap me!” said Coraline.

“relax. my bro won’t hurt anyone,” said sans. “i'll keep an eyesocket out for you.”

“You promise?” Coraline asked.

“cross my heart and hope to die,” said sans. “c’mon kid, if i were lying, you’d see right through me.”

Coraline made a face.

“what? no good? c’mon kid, you gotta work with me. i’ve been working hard to make up some puns. you could say I’ve been working myself…

Frisk woke up in the room in Toriel’s house again. They did not remember spending as much time in her house. Once they had tried to crawl back into bed and sleep everything off, but they were never able to fall asleep with Toriel’s dust on their hands.

But this wasn’t the same Toriel. It was the Other Toriel. It was a whole other world they could start to explore. Maybe this could be the start of a whole other Frisk.

At the thought, they jumped out of bed and raced into the living room. The Other Toriel was in the kitchen again, this time making a breakfast as extravagant as dinner was the night before.

“Good morning my child,” said the Other Toriel. “Did you sleep well?”

Frisk nodded as they grabbed a Spider Donut off the table. It didn’t heal and it was more crunchy than usual, but it was good all the same.

“I was thinking today you might like to explore around the house,” said the other Toriel. “Or maybe you could help your father in the garden.”

Frisk did not know how to sign explore, so they gestured for the first one.

“I thought so,” said the Other Toriel. “Make sure to eat enough, my child. I’ve invited someone special to show you around.”

The second Frisk finished their meal, there was a knock on the door. The other Toriel excused herself for just a minute to let them in.  Frisk froze as they saw the white skull and blue hoodie. Their sins crawled along their back.

“hey, relax kid, it’s just me.”

The voice was sans’, but not. It did not have that…thing, that sans’ voice always had even at his scariest. Frisk allowed themselves to look up, and saw two black buttons where eye sockets should be.

“sans has offered to show you around,” said the other Toriel.

“yeah. my bro’s got some cool puzzles he wants to show ya,” said the sans.

It took Frisk a moment to get their heart or soul or whatever to stop racing. It was the other sans. Not that sans. Even if it were that sans, he wasn’t the one they should be afraid of.

Frisk decided to follow the other sans.

ABSOLUTELY NO MOVING

Coraline continued anyway.

“Did somebody move?” A voice asked.

Coraline froze.

A figure popped out from behind the station. It was as much dog as Toriel was goat, with a dog treat dangling out of its mouth. It moved closer to Coraline on hind legs, and looked closely. Its eyes were dull with age, the same way Miss Spink and Miss Forcible’s were, and when it looked, it looked through Coraline.

Doggo blocks the way. Coraline didn’t move.

“Could’ve sworn I saw something move,” said the dog. It grabbed one of the swords off its back and spun it in its hands experimentally.

Coraline didn’t dare to move. Even as the sword glowed a light blue and the dog monster ran it through her.

She didn’t move even as she realized she wasn’t hurt after that. The dog monster removed his gaze from her, and instead looked at his sword.

“Guess it’s just my imagination,” said the dog. “Swear I don’t get paid enough for this…”

It turned, and Coraline found it in herself to move. She reached out for it, barely scratching its thick fur.

“WHAT!” It exclaimed. “I’VE BEEN PET! BY SOMETHING THAT ISN’T MOVING! …I’M GONNA NEED MORE DOG TREATS FOR THIS!”

It scrambled back into the sentry station, and as soon as Coraline knew she was alone, she let herself laugh.

“heya kiddo.”

sans stood in front of her. Coraline knew for a fact he was not there a second ago.

“here’s something important to remember,” said sans. “next time you see someone attack with a blue attack, don’t move and it won’t hurt you.”

“I think I’ve figured that out,” said Coraline.

“oh? Doggo give you a bad time?” sans asked.

“To be honest, I probably gave him a worse time,” said Coraline.

“yeah. Doggo’s great, but his eyes aren’t what they used to be,” said sans. “thinking of getting him a seeing eye dog.”

Coraline laughed at the idea, before realizing sans was serious. Or at least, he was as serious as he usually was.

“Say, why didn’t you try and tell me this before I got to Doggo?” She asked.

“oh?”

Sans looked her way. The lights in his eyes flickered.

“i wanted to see what you would do,” he said.

Coraline didn’t know what to say to that. This time, she really could not tell whether he was joking or not.

“don’t let it get to your head, kid,” said sans. “just think blue stop signs. it’ll come in handy if you ever try to fight my brother. though, uh, let me give you a word of advice about fighting my brother…Don’t.”

Sans left as quickly as he arrived, and Coraline didn’t know what to think.

The division between the other world’s Ruins and the other world’s Snowdin was firm and sudden, as purple floor tiles and flowers divided with snow and puzzle tiles in an even line. Frisk tried not to pay it any mind. It was much like that in the real Underground, anyway.

What Frisk was more curious about were the puzzle tiles. They lay across the snow haphazardly, as if whoever was setting them up had no idea how puzzles were supposed to work. At the center of it stood a skeleton with a bright orange scarf and black button eyes.

“sup bro?”

“YOU KNOW WHAT’S SUP BROTHER! I CAN’T SEEM TO RECALIBRATE THESE PUZZLES PROPERLY.” The other Papyrus’ attention turned to Frisk. “HELLO SMALL HUMAN. PERHAPS YOU HAVE SOME ADVICE ON WHAT TO DO WITH THESE PUZZLES?”

Frisk had not read Advanced Puzzle Construction for Developing Minds, so they shrugged.

“WHAT? YOU DON’T KNOW EITHER?” said the other Papyrus. “THEN WHO IS GOING TO SET UP THESE PUZZLES?”

“don’t sweat it, bro,” The other sans said. “not like we need to set these puzzles for humans anymore.”

“YOU’RE RIGHT! THE HUMAN IS RIGHT HERE!” said the other Papyrus. “AND THERE’S NO REASON TO HOLD THEM AGAINST THEIR WILL. ANYMORE.”

“right. thinking bout taking the kid to Undyne’s for lunch,” said the other sans. “could you get to work on that project we were talking about?”

“OH. YES. THAT THING,” said the other Papyrus. “I WILL GET RIGHT TO WORK ON THAT, WHILE THE HUMAN IS AWAY. WINK.”

The black button eyesocket of the Other Papyrus twitched, as if he were actually trying to wink. He ruffled Frisk’s hair before he ran through the snow in the other direction.

“so, ready to go meet Undyne kid?” the other sans asked.

Frisk made a face. No matter what they did, they never recalled Undyne being friendly with them. At a point where she wouldn’t throw a spear at them, maybe, but never friendly.

“hey, relax kid. this is the Other Undyne,” said the other sans. “she won’t hurt ya if she knows what’s good for her. she was actually looking forward to teaching you how to cook.”

Frisk gave the other sans a curious look.

“what, you didn’t know that?” the other sans asked. “Undyne’s taught my brother nearly everything he knows, even in this world.”

That didn’t exactly comfort Frisk.

“if you want, we can just drop in and play it by ear,” said the other sans. “i imagine you know how to do that better than me.”

Frisk giggled at the pun, and allowed the other sans to lead them.

The trip through the other Snowdin Town was as easy and abrupt as the trip through the Ruins. Before Frisk knew it, they were standing in front of a house from Waterfall that they recognized but never stepped in. Piano music poured from the open windows. Frisk didn’t remember that. sans gave a few raps on the door. It swung open before he could finish the third.

The Undyne that stood in the doorway looked a lot different than what Frisk remembered. Even beyond the button eye, they couldn’t recall ever seeing Undyne outside of her heavy armor.

“Heya punks! Ready for your cooking lesson?” The other Undyne asked, her button eye narrowed down at the child in a way that looked more intimidating than it felt.

“nah. think i’ll sit this one out. kid's raring to go, though,” said the other sans. “is Alphys around?”

“She headed out with Mettaton and his cousin,” said the other Undyne. “They’re trying to find out the perfect scientific strategy to playing Thundersnail so they can play it with the human later.”

For a house that supposedly belonged to Undyne, it was rather cozy. It was well kept, with only a table full of tea pots and cups a sign that it had been used at all. The piano continued to play itself, two mechanical hands reaching around to hit the keys.

“Now then, let’s start with your warrior training!”

It’s the Greater Dog.

Sure, with the suit of armor, the Greater Dog towered over Coraline and was nearly double her width. Without it, however, it was just a dog. Dogs were easy to handle, Coraline realized.

“Come here boy!” She beckoned.

The Greater Dog raced towards her, flicking slobber into her face. Coraline reached down to make a snowball. She tossed it as far as she could. It splattered on the ground. The Greater Dog responded by bringing all of the snow he could catch in his mouth and bringing it to her.

Now dog is tired…the Greater Dog jumped from its armor and rested its head on her. Coraline reached out to pet it. Unlike the other dogs, the Greater Dog relaxed under Coraline’s hand, and sunk its weight into her. It fired a few magic bullets into the air as it flopped on its back.

The Greater Dog is contented. It jumped back to its feet and gave Coraline a long lick across her face before jumping back into its armor. It walked away, its tail sticking out through the headhole.

It took Coraline a minute to stop laughing. As she did, she saw what lay ahead. A small town, visible only through house lights, connected to her with a bridge. Awaiting on the other side were two familiar skeletons.

“BEHOLD, HUMAN!” said Papyrus. “THE GAUNTLET OF DEADLY TERROR!”

A series of traps suddenly surrounded Coraline as the gauntlet activated.

“WHEN I SAY THE WORD,” said Papyrus “IT WILL FULLY ACTIVATE!!! CANNONS WILL FIRE! SPIKES WILL SWING! BLADES WILL SLICE! EACH PART WILL SWING VIOLENTLY UP AND DOWN!”

“What will the dog do?” Coraline asked.

“YOU KNOW??  I’M NOT SURE! !” said Papyrus. “BUT ONLY THE TINIEST CHANCE OF VICTORY WILL REMAIN!! NOW BRACE YOURSELF HUMAN!!! BECAUSE I!”

Coraline looked around wildly for anything she could use to save herself. Even sans looked like he wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps she could grab onto the other side of the bridge and swing to safety…

“AM! ABOUT!”

But if she did that, she would have to scale the rest of the mountain…

“TO DO IT!”

Nothing happened.

“well?” asked sans. “what’s the holdup?”

“HOLDUP!? WHAT HOLDUP!? I’M…”

Papyrus looked unsure.

“WELL, IT SEEMS THIS CHALLENGE MAY BE TOO EASY TO DEFEAT THE HUMAN WITH,” said Papyrus. “YEAH!!! I AM A SKELETON WITH VERY HIGH STANDARDS, AND MY PUZZLES ARE ALWAYS EXPERTLY COOKED! THIS ONE SIMPLY WON’T DO!”

The Gauntlet of Deadly Terror was removed.

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” Papyrus asked. “ANOTHER DECISIVE VICTORY FOR PAPYRUS! NYEH! HEH! …Heh?”

He was gone before Coraline could ask any more questions.

Undye’s cooking, surprisingly, turned out to be edible. In fact, much like everything Frisk had found in the otherworld, it was the most delicious thing they had ever tasted. What made it even better was that Frisk got to make it themselves. Undyne had been surprisingly patient with teaching them how to cook. Though her method involved throwing a lot of spears, far less things caught on fire than Frisk had anticipated.

The other sans lead them back to the Snowdin area, where the snow had grown so high that the other sans had to pick them up so they wouldn’t sink right through. He helped carry them up one of the taller snow poffs, where the Other Papyrus awaited with his racecar bed.

“SO THE HUMAN ARRIVES,” said the other Papyrus. “ARE YOU READY FOR YOUR TOTALLY COOL TOUR PRESENTED BY YOURS TRULY?”

Frisk jumped in the bed as fast as they could. The bed shook under the added weight, and dipped down the hill.

The wind kicked up around Frisk’s face as the racecar bed cruised down the hillside. The bed jumped into the air after hitting a snow poff, and a sail mechanism sprung up by their feet to keep the bed hovering. They sailed over luminescent flowers and tranquil waters of the Waterfall. They sailed over the lava pools in the Hotlands and the mechanics of the Core. The racecar kept sailing.

Frisk’s interested piqued. They had never seen what lay beyond the hallways connecting Hotlands to New Home. They could make out a few buildings against the backdrop and the golden tiles of the Judgement Hall.

The sled fell, and there was nothing. The world that was began to fade away, as if someone had taken an eraser to a drawing. Gold floor panels faded into yellow flecks, and then into dots on a screen, and then nothing.

And Frisk was alone.

They called for help.

“Hush! And shush! Say nothing, for the Beldam may be listening…”

The fog grew deep. Coraline swallowed hard and fought through it. Even as her vision got covered in white, she could make something out in the distance.

Something blocks the way.

“HUMAN. ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU ABOUT SOME COMPLEX FEELINGS.”

Author’s Note:  Fun fact: I actually went through the trouble of marking all of sans’ and Papyrus’ dialogue in their respective fonts. The reason the other sans is weird is because he doesn’t speak in sans’ font. Obviously, it didn’t come through. I’m not even mad; I still hate comic sans with a passion.

#fic #Into the Unknown #Undertale #Coraline #Frisk #Coraline Jones #sans #Papyrus #the Other Mother #featured

[alexanderhamllton]

5 a.m. [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: Inspired by the one time me and some friends went to McDonald’s at 5 a.m. The reader, craving junk food, drags a sleepy Lin out of bed, way too early in the morning. The breakfast menu isn’t up yet. Chaos and shenanigans ensue.

Word counter: 4,474

Warnings: None, just a really sleepy and grumpy Lin. 

Authors Notes: @sunshinemiranda - i cannot believe i got to the chance to collab with ren again??? you guys, this honestly all stemmed from this really cute story she told me and then me (being pushy and annoying as per usual) needed to get in and then this came into being!! we got so attached, we made headcanons for this, unbelievable. i still want to make a prequel. enjoy.

@alexanderhamllton - i got to collab with my girl again, can you guys BELIEVE??? I am so happy with how this turned out, we made a whole lot of headcanons (hence the mixtapes) and we really hope you guys like it! If you want more from this universe PLEASE let us know, because we would love to wirte that! 

askbox | olivia’s masterlist | ren’s masterlist

Lin wasn’t expecting his phone to ring at 5 in the morning. He wasn’t expecting anything but a solid sleep that he desperately needed after too many late nights full of work. Funny thing was, life had a screwed up talent at ruining expectations.

His phone lit up in the dark, vibrating against the wooden bedside table with a vicious energy. With a groan, he stabbed a button blindly and brought it to his ear without even bothering to emit a greeting. It was too early for that.

“Lin. Listen, it’s 5 am. You wanna go to McDonald’s with me?”

Her voice tugged something in his brain and the centre that was responsible for releasing endorphins and happiness had a field day. Hearing the voice of someone you loved, even at 5 in the morning, did that to a person.

“(Y/N). Listen, it’s 5 am. No fucking way.” His voice was husky and sleep-addled, all kinds of mumbling.

“Too late! I’m outside in my car, I’m coming upstairs to pick you up. Let’s go!” Her voice was unbelievably cheerful for the ungodly hour she seemed to ignore.

He groaned audibly into the phone, rolling over onto his back. “Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?”

“Not at all. I’m already two floors up.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he mumbled, huffing with the effort of pulling himself from the warm embrace of his bed.

“Love me? Whoa there, Lin, step back. Chicken nuggets and I, as you may well know, are in a very committed relationship. Now come open your door.”

With that, she had hung up and he groaned again, reaching blindly to grab a sweater. Dragging heavy, tired limbs to the door, he reached out and tugged it open, squinting when his gaze was assaulted with the hallway light.

“Nice Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sweatpants, nerd,” her comment made him pretend to close the door in her face before giving her space to walk into his apartment.

“Yeah, screw you (Y/N), don’t pretend I can’t see Captain America on your freaking shirt,” Lin teased back. Truth is, he loved the shirt: Captain America never looked as good as he did on her.

“For your information, Steve Rogers is an icon, Lin-Manuel, and don’t be grumpy.” He rolled his eyes, making her grin: annoying him was always fun, the mutual teasing being a natural thing by now. “By the way, I need to borrow a hoodie.”

“That’s probably the third hoodie you’re stealing from me, did you know that?” He challenged, heading to his bedroom and grabbing an old Wesleyan hoodie from his college days.

“It’s not stealing if you ask for them!” She justified, raising her eyebrows. “I just…forget to return them, that’s all.”

He chuckled despite his attempted annoyance, then turned to face his friend just as she pulled the black fabric down. Freezing a bit, he could do nothing but stare. She looked beautiful. Well, she always did, but in a Captain America shirt, some red flannel pajama bottoms and, oh God, his sweater, she looked so wonderfully human that it made his heart hammer at eight times its usual speed.

“What are you staring at? Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s too big.” She huffed, keys jingling in her grip as she walked past him.

“No-no, it’s...it’s a good size.” He laughed, half a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s get going. I can smell the fries from here, god dammit, they’re taunting me.”

After running down the stairs - well, she ran, he lazily followed her - they got to her car. The old model was parked in the worst way possible in front of them.

“You need a new car,” he commented while struggling to open the door.

“Screw you, this car has saved our asses way too many times for me to get rid of it easily,” she smiled, opening the passenger’s door from inside the car for Lin. “Besides, it has some charm and I’m too lazy to move all my tapes to another one.”

The moment she mentioned the tapes, he had caught a glance of the mountains of aforementioned cassettes in the glove department. Automatically curious, he reached in and sifted through them, reading a couple mixtape titles before realizing that most of the ones she had kept were the ones from him.

March 16th, 2003 - the “just cause” mix. October 31st, 2003 - spooky! January 1st, 2004 - happy new year, (y/n). February 14th, 2004 - for your lonely ass on valentine’s. March 26th, 2004 - all the latino songs i talked to you about. April 18th, 2004 - romantic songs ‘cause you’re not single anymore. May 2nd, 2004 - angry songs ‘cause your ex sucks. May 21st, 2004 - this is just to say.

“I can’t believe you kept these.” He murmured, still in awe as he flicked gently through cassette cases.

“Of course I did, dork. What, did you think I was going to throw them away?” (Y/N) grinned, pushing the key to start the car and pulling out of the parking lot. “Choose one, play it.”

His fingers ran through the tapes as he quickly read the titles, all in his handwriting. After a few seconds, he pulled one from the bunch.

“The “just cause” mix, it is,” he grinned, pushing it into the tape player. Immediately, Bon Jovi pretty much blasted through the speakers and (Y/N) sent him a knowing look.

After a full performance of the first two songs, involving many incidents where Lin had to remind (Y/N) to put your hands back on the wheel, you’re still driving, holy fuck, a comfortable silence ruled the cab and he found himself smiling in spite of his exhaustion.

“Wow.” Her voice broke the silence and he turned to realize that she had an eyebrow raised at him.

“Wow what?”

“Wow, you haven’t complained about me dragging you to McDonald’s at 5 am yet.”

“Yet is the key word. There’ll be whining, just you wait. Now listen to the stupid mix I made you and be quiet.”

Despite his attempt to remain huffy and cross his arms, a smile broke out on his face anyway and the girl in the driver’s seat laughed, giving him a salute and promptly closing her mouth, but not for long.

You see, the songs were a mix of 80s and 90s songs they both loved to sing along to well, just ‘cause. It was impossible not to start a duet when the roles were so perfectly set up between the two from listening to the songs together so much. Almost all the choruses were screamed in joy together and before they knew it, a yellow letter M was coming into sight.

“Are we going in wearing pajamas?” Lin asked as (Y/N) carefully pulled the car into a parking space.

“You got a better outfit hidden somewhere?” She asked ironically, raising an eyebrow. “C’mon Lin, it’s five in the morning, you think anyone’s gonna be there this early?”

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we?” He shrugged.  

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m insane and dragged you along. There is no one in the world like us, Miranda.” She grinned, turning to get out of the car.

He couldn’t help but grin at the statement, a smile brightening his face as he stepped out of the beat up vehicle to follow her. It was just like old times: just the two of them against the world.

As always, his friend was right. McDonald’s was completely deserted, but for the tired employee behind the counter. He could see her visibly cringe the moment she realized their presence and he immediately felt a stab of guilt.

“Hi I-I’ll have an Egg McMuffin and  large black coffee, please,” he attempted an exhausted smile, not bothering to look at the menu.

“I’m sorry sir, but the breakfast menu will only be available in an hour,” the cashier replied, her voice sounding as tired as Lin’s.

The moment he fully understood her words, he moved to slowly turn and face (Y/N), eyes wide and glazed over, as if he’d just seen the apocalypse itself.

“(Y/N).”

“What.”

“The breakfast menu’s not on yet. The breakfast menu’s not on yet.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And?” He squeaked, looking at her with pleading eyes. “How am I going to survive without a coffee?”

“Stop being such a crybaby and get a McFlurry. I’m paying anyway.”

“(Y/N), paying? Wow, being up this early really did things to you,” he stated, surprised.

“Did you bring your wallet, genius?” She asked, already aware of the answer.

“Shit…no,” Lin noticed, while trying to find his wallet in his pocketless pajamas.

“That’s what I thought,” she smiled.

Turning to the counter, she checked his hip with her own, shuffling so she could gently push him to the side.

“Can I have a twenty piece chicken nugget order and a Snickers McFlurry? He’ll have a crushed Oreo one.” She gestured to him without a second glance and he chuckled.

Wordlessly, the clerk nodded and set to work as (Y/N) dragged Lin to a free table. Well, they were all free, so it was more like her dragging him to a table.

“Twenty pieces? It’s a good thing we’re sharing.” He grinned.

“Oh no. No, no, I never mentioned anything about sharing.” She let her chin down to rest on her hand as she sent him a smile of her own. “All twenty pieces belong to me.”

He mimicked her position, and the two of them stared at each other for just a moment, matching smiles and all. She was so beautiful like this. Her hair was slipping out of it's badly made bun, the sleeves of his too-big hoodie covering her hands; he couldn’t resist reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Her eyes widened but she didn’t shy away from his touch. Instead, she moved, an infinitesimal amount of space, closer to his hand. Lin opened his mouth to say something, a wave of fondness that bordered too closely to love, welling up inside him, until the woman at the till spoke up.

“Order 62 is ready.”

(Y/N) broke away from his touch as casually as anything, but it made him feel a cold tingle of rejection anyway. With a huff, she stood.

“We’re the only ones in the freakin’ place, you don’t need to call it “Order 62”, you know what’s in it, Jesus Chr-” The moment she pulled up to the counter, a huge, empty smile replaced her huffy frown. “Thank you so much! You have a good night!”

When she came back with the order, Lin chuckled at the sight of two McFlurries and 20 chicken nuggets this early in the morning.

“It’s protocol,” he smiled.

“What’s protocol?”

“Announcing the order.”

“Oh, right, you used to work in one of these!” She was smiling again.

“Yup. It’s a hard job, I feel bad for her.” He chuckled, reaching out to grab his Oreo McFlurry off the table.

“So do I, but it doesn’t have to be protocol to ruin a good moment.” She bit into a chicken nugget a little aggressively.

Her comment made him freeze immediately and over think her phrasing. A good moment. He had touched her and she thought it was a good moment. His brain went into over drive and in his confusion, he brought the McFlurry to his mouth and tried to use the hollow spoon as a straw.

“For someone who used to work here, you sure don’t know how to use the utensils.” She was grinning, bursting out into peals of laughter as he blushed, quickly pulling away from the spoon and grabbing it with his hand.

“You never saw that,” Lin warned, pointing the spoon full of ice cream at her, as she burst into more laughter.

“If you think I’m ever forgetting that you used a spoon as a straw, you’re insane.”

That comment sparked a full on discussion on each other’s embarrassed moments, from the time she wore a dress backwards for the whole day to their drunk shenanigans from only a few days before. It quickly evolved into a game of challenges that were bound to lead to lunacy, but it didn’t matter.

“It’s going to fall.”

“Not if we build it from bottom to top with the creams at the bottom, they’re heavier.” Lin was concentrating very hard at trying to balance a sort of pyramid of half and half creams that were found at the foot of their table. (Y/N) had challenged the both of them to build a house out of the materials around them and it was going badly, very fast.

“You’re a genius, okay, I’ll go get more creams and some straws for the walls.” She sent him a delighted grin and rushed away to fill her hands with the free McDonald’s paraphernalia at a small side counter, ignoring the tired looks from the employee.

“You can’t use that!” Lin pointed.

“Of course I can, just because you didn’t have enough sugar packets to build yours doesn’t mean I can’t do it!”

He made a vocal ‘hmph’ sound, but seemed to grin anyway. Within minutes, the house-building competition devolved into a sort of clean food fight, with many sacrificed coffee creams and packets of sugar lost to become projectiles to whip at one another with McFlurry spoons. It was the youngest, most innocent moment Lin had witnessed in a long time, and it filled him with an incomparable warmth.

As the both of them ran out of ‘ammunition’, their laughter was hard to control. Lin had his hand over his chest as she covered her mouth with both hands, their stomachs hurting in the best way possible. The mess on the table was hilarious just to look at, the attempts of building, well, whatever they were building, completely knocked over.

He cocked an eyebrow at her over the mess of the table, a flitting glance proving his theory. Their exhausted employee had retreated to the back, perhaps for prep work. Standing up, he offered a hand to (Y/N) silently, a slow grin finding a home on his lips. She stood, just as mute as he was, with a curious light in her eyes as she silently questioned his purpose. With her hand wrapped gently in his, he tugged her closer, finding a place on her waist for his other palm.

“What are you doing?” She whispered, eyes half-lidded and happy.

“Teaching you to dance.” He replied, the brightness of his grin shining fully.

“There’s no music,” (Y/N) bit her lower lip, holding back a giggle. Lin was sure his heart stopped for a second.

“We don’t need it.”

He waltzed the girl of his dreams delicately, softly, as if he believed holding her too tight would result in a hard pinch and the realization that this was not reality. Her warmth and the solidarity of his own presence grounded him, however, and soon, the pressure of his hands increased just slightly, less afraid that she would float away.

“If you’re gonna teach me how to dance, Lin, you better teach me how to salsa or something. I can waltz okay, but salsa? I only do that with chips.” She shot him a grin and he emitted a dramatic groan at the cheesy joke, but smiled anyway.

“(Y/N), the question is, are you ready for the salsa?” He teased, raising an eyebrow.

“You tell me.”

It only took a split second for Lin to spin her in his arms, pulling a squeal from (Y/N), his skilled hands grabbing hers as he made a head motion for her to look at his feet. One step after the other, front, middle, back, middle and again. Lin laughed as she slowly got the rhythm right, his hands doing the same movement without letting go of hers.

He was right, they didn’t need any music. The way he started to move was effortless, spins, turns, whirls, a twist here and there, and he started to grow more and more confident, as did she. A grin curving his mouth up, he spun away from her and hopped up on the table, reaching out to execute a quick lift as she half-stepped, half-floated up onto the linoleum dining table. She laughed, head thrown back, at their ridiculousness, and it made his heart swell with fondness. They kept a rhythm going, smoothly at that, with his hands going to her waist every few seconds for guidance and solidarity, and her gaze meeting with his after every turn. In her eyes, he saw an unparalleled trust that he had understood was one of a kind. She was right, there wasn’t anyone in the world like them.

Lin lost track of time as they spun each other around, but a stranger’s uncomfortable voice cut through their temporary bubble.

“Sir, ma’am, um...could you get off the table please?” The exhausted employee was back - Jaqueline? Jennifer? Lin couldn’t read her nametag from that far away.

He shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Got a little carried away. We’re out of your restaurant, promise.”

“Sorry about the sugar packets. And the cream. And the dancing, and the-” (Y/N) babbled, a bit nervous in her apology.

“And the all of it, is what she means. Have a good night…morning.” He smiled, to which Jaqueline-Maybe-Jennifer smiled back. Lin dropped down from the table and held a hand up to (Y/N), which she took with a grin.

With a paper bag of cold chicken nuggets in one hand, and a couple half-melted McFlurries in the other, Lin had never felt so alive. Their pace slowed as they returned to (Y/N)’s sorry excuse of a car, a sort of exhaustion that was unique to salsa dancing at 5 a.m setting into his body.

In the car, Lin leaned back with a deep sigh, eyes closing momentarily as a wave of tiredness swept over him. She mirrored his movement, letting out a laugh instead. “We really did that.”

Lin chuckled, biting his lip. “We did.”

As his eyes opened, he realised that (Y/N) was watching him, the shadow of a smile on her face.

“Why are you looking at me?” He asked, half a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest.

“You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Too tired to go to the bridge and finish our McDonald’s?”

He grinned at that. “Never.”

The streets were no longer deserted as they drove to the Fort Lee Historic Park. The car windows were open, letting in the last traces of the night breeze as Lin changed the cassette tape. Tears on my Pillow by Little Anthony, started playing.

“You did not just put on the valentine’s day mixtape you made me last year,” she gave him a quick look when they stopped by a red light.

“It was the only one that didn’t have songs that we sing along too often,” he shrugged.

“You underestimate how many time I’ve listened to these mixes, Lin,” (Y/N) replied, shooting him a grin as she started to sing along.

He paused for a moment and just stayed still, struck by her beauty and lost in awe. She listened to the mixes he made her. She listened to the mixes he made her. His heart burst with a wonderful warmth and it spread to place a grin on his face that just wouldn’t go away. She was all kinds of light.

“You’re unbelievable,” Lin’s voice was only a bit louder than a whisper, his thoughts slipping out of his lips before he could filter them, but it was enough to grow a smile on her face. He didn’t notice.

Fort Lee was one of the places Lin and (Y/N) grew up visiting. From play dates when they were just kids to their escapades from class during high school, the park became their not-so-secret place. The parking lot facing the GWB were their favorite spot and now, there was no better place to be but there. The path to the spot was well-known by the two, and the emptiness of the park due to the early hours made it look like a dream. It was home.

(Y/N) threw the rattling car into park and sent him a huge grin, ducking out of the car without waiting for him. Besides, she knew Lin would follow, and follow he did, with a quickly melting McFlurry still grasped in his hand. She pulled herself up onto the hood of the car and then half-hopped, half-pulled her way into the roof, turning to beckon to him with a smile. He followed in her wake, setting himself down at her side as the sky started to bleed orange. The sun was coming up.

“I don’t think we ever came here this early,” (Y/N)’s eyes were taking in the view, the sun slowly coloring New York City in tones of orange and yellow, the concrete jungle looking more like a home than ever.

“It really puts things in perspective.” Lin was mindlessly playing with the plastic spoon, his attention on his best friend instead.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m scared, (Y/N),” he simply said, his voice not showing how nervous he felt. “I’m… I’m a substitute teacher. We graduated college, came back to New York and now…now what?”

“You’re a writer. Substitute teacher is just what you’re doing to pay the bills,” her eyes met his and a smile appeared on her face.

“I-I know,” he breathed out, leaning back as the space between them closed slightly. His thigh brushed hers. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever make it past the “paying the bills” excuse. What if I get stuck? What if I go from substitute teaching to just teaching, and then there’s never any time to write, then that turns into regret, and for the rest of my life I have to-”

“You are an artist.” (Y/N) interjected gently, hand reaching out to rest on top of his as a silent means of support. “And a damn good one at that. I know you, Lin. You have ambition, and drive, and oh my God, so much stubbornness that it would be impossible for you to let yourself go on teaching. When your career-”

“If, my career.” He interrupted, smiling softly.

She cocked an eyebrow at him with a huff. “When, your career starts to take off, I will be right there to say “I told you so”. I promise.”

Lin was still smiling, but it had grown into a grin as her words washed over him. “God, you’re wonderful, I don’t know where I would be without you.”

“Probably getting a healthy amount of sleep and not on top of my crappy car at 6 a.m.” She grinned.

“Yeah, probably.” He laughed, elbowing her side gently. “You know I’m gonna be here when your career explodes, right?”

She snorted. “What career?”

“No, (Y/N), I’m serious. Everything you put your mind to gets done. You have this jack of all trades talent that makes me burn with jealousy, but also want to stand up and cheer you on. You are going to have an awesome life.”

“Yeah. Our future’s gonna be pretty great, huh.” Lin froze with a mouthful of his McFlurry on its way to his mouth. “Ours?”

“Yeah, ours. We’re sticking together, you and me. Just us against the world.” She smiled at him, and a thousand butterflies erupted in his stomach.

They fell silent after that, and the sky started to morph from golden oranges to a pink that stretched all the way across the horizon. Birds started to sing their good morning’s from the trees. Lin knew, better than anything, that if he was going to say something, he had better say it now.

“You know, if we were in one of those cheesy movies, this is where I’d kiss you.” He half-joked, nervousness taking hold of his heart with a cold grasp.

She chuckled before biting her lower lip. “Yeah, definitely. But we’re not in one of those movies.”

“Right, right, yeah. Of course.” Lin faked a smile, his gaze now on the melted ice cream in his hands.

“This is a modern romantic comedy. I think the girl would kiss the guy instead.”

Her words took a few moments to sink in, his hundreds of miles per hour thoughts stopping once her hand delicately touched his cheek. She closed the distance slowly, and if time hadn’t stopped before, it certainly did now. Lin’s hands went to wrap, slowly, around her waist, his thumb moving in soothing circles against her back. It was less so to comfort her than him, as he was sure anyone within a five mile radius had to hear his heart pumping so loudly. As his eyes closed, something in him seemed to switch and all he was focusing on was the feel of her in his arms, the way it felt like everything was just right as she kissed him, the warmth and realness of her presence. His every thought was floating but every part of his body was on fire. As she pulled away, eyes half-lidded, her lips curved to turn into a smile. Foreheads resting against one another, Lin closed his eyes for a moment to compose himself before breaking out into a huge grin.

There was a pause before she took in a breath and let out waves of laughter, eyes shut up as she held her stomach. Before long, he was laughing too and she took hold of his hand, fondly tracing shapes into it.

“I can’t believe it took me that long to kiss you,” she huffed, still trying to catch her breath.”Been wanting to do that for awhile.”

He stared at her in disbelief, unable to comprehend that the person he had secretly loved for so long actually returned his feelings. “You have no idea how many times I considered telling you that I...that I-”

“I love you.” She smiled.

He breathed out. Finally, he thought. “I love you so much.”

Her smile was the most wonderful thing he had ever gotten the pleasure to witness. The sunrise was nothing compared to the way her eyes lit up at the sound of his voice saying the words she waited for so long to listen.

This time around, his hands were the ones to bring her closer, the kisses going on and on and on. At one point, it stopped feeling like they were making up for lost time: instead, they were a promise to the future.

The sun made its way up into the sky, and Lin realized that 5 a.m phone calls weren’t so bad.

#lin manuel miranda imagine #lin manuel x reader #lin manuel miranda x reader #lmm imagine #lmm x reader #hamilcast x reader #hamilcast imagine #my writing #made out of sunshine

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Purr M For Murder

Purr M For Murder by T.C. LoTempio

Purr M for Murder: A Cat Rescue Mystery Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Crooked Lane Books (March 14, 2017) Hardcover: 304 pages ISBN-13: 978-1683310921 Kindle ASIN: B01N6P3WYP

Sydney McCall left behind an ex-fiancé and a New York advertising job to return home to Deer Park, North Carolina and help her sister, Kat, run the local animal shelter, Friendly Paws. Determined to save the shelter from financial trouble, Sydney and Kat organize a cat café fundraising event at a local coffee shop. Things are looking up until their landlord, Trowbridge Littleton, threatens to shut down the event. When Sydney drops by his art gallery to make peace, she finds Kat–along with Littleton’s dead body.

Local homicide detective Will Worthington–who just happens to be Sydney’s old high school crush–is highly suspicious of the sisters’ involvement. Desperate to clear their names from the suspect list, Sydney pounces on the investigation. With the help of one of the shelter cats, a savvy orange tabby named Toby, Sydney begins poking her nose into other local businesses whose owners may have benefited from Littleton’s death–until the killer notices she’s pawing a little too closely at the truth.

Guest Post

My “Top Five”Favorite Mystery Series! I’ve always loved to read, since I was three (which might explain why I became an author, LOL!) Need I add that my favorite genre is mystery, of course! (although thriller runs a close second!) I thought I’d share my top five favorite mystery series with you! #5 – Nancy Drew Mysteries: -Carolyn Keen aka Mildred Wirt – The very first mystery I ever read was #21, The Secret in the Old Attic, and after that I HAD to have the whole series! Nancy Drew was a role model, an independent gal who never missed an opportunity to track down a clue! It heightened my love of series books and mysteries in general. I developed an appreciation for finding that “hidden clue” and also a love of blue roadsters! I also devoured the Judy Bolton, Dana Girl, Connie Blair, Vicki Barr, Beverly Gray and Trixie Belden and Kay Tracey msyteries as well, but let’s face it – Nancy was, and always will be, the Queen! #4: The Entire Perry Mason series by Erle Stanley Gardner: It’s impossible for me to single out just any one of the 46 books in this series – they all fascinate me. I never tire of reading the adventures of Mason, a lawyer who fights hard on behalf of his clients and who takes pride in the unusual, difficult or nearly-hopeless case. Gardner wrote an excellent supporting cast, from the hardboiled DA Hamilton Burger to the efficient Della Street, each is perfectly fleshed out. The thing that intrigued me most was the way he’d just accept cases on a whim, often financing the necessary investigations himself. What lawyer today would go to such lengths for his clients? Perry’s the best, bar none, from The Case of the Velvet Claws right on down to his last, The Case of the Postponed Murder (published posthumostely). I could read ‘em all over and over again (and I have!) #3: The TeaShop Mystery Series – Laura Childs – I adore this series! Laura Childs has a knack for description and for bringing characters to life, and these are particularly lovable. From Theodosia Browning, the owner of the Indigo Tea Shop, right on down to Delaine Dish, the self absorbed owner of a clothing boutique, each character makes their own unique stamp on your heart! Theodosia’s a gal with a mind of her own and a flair for deduction – although she does manage to be a bit destructive in the clothing department! Still looking for Mr. Right, Theodosia has made her way through many a baffling mystery – each one more suspenseful than the last. This series is more “thrillsy” than cozy, so for those who like more than their share of suspense, this might be the one for you! #2: Mrs. Murphy Series – Rita Mae Brown – This series features the tiger cat, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, a plump gray cat, Tucker, a lively Corgi – and her human companion, Mary “Harry” Harristeen. Another good mystery where the intrepid detective (in this case Harry) gets an assist in deceiphering the clues from her feline assistants. Over the course of twenty something volumes the characters have grown and evolved, and each msytery is more thought provoking than the last. Then again, a cat co-writes them, so what do you expect? Now…drumroll…..my very favorite mystery series of all times #1- In Death Series – JD Robb – ok, this might not be a mystery series per se, but for my money it’s one of the best series around! As with Perry Mason, I love ALL the Eve Dallas books, but the one that stands out ini my mind is Ceremony in Death. It was the first one to bring in witchcraft and magic and also the first one to show Eve in a vulnerable position against an adversary. If you’ve never tried the”In Death” series I suggest you start with book one – you’ll be hooked! (written by Nora Roberts, BTW – JD Robb is a pseudonym) I also have many runners up: The Black Cat Bookshop Series, the Scrapbooking Mysteries, The Cat Who Mysteries, The Cat in the Stacks Mysteries, and, of course…MIDNIGHT LOUIE! So there you have it – my top five series! Do you agree with my choices? What are some of your “top ten” must reads?

    About the Author…..

While Toni Lotempio does not commit – or solve – murders in real life, she has no trouble doing it on paper. Her lifelong love of mysteries began early on when she was introduced to her first Nancy Drew mystery at age 10 – The Secret in the Old Attic. She (and ROCCO, albeit he’s uncredited) pen the Nick and Nora mystery series from Berkley Prime Crime – the first volume, MEOW IF ITS MURDER, debuted Dec. 2, 2014. Followed by #2, CLAWS FOR ALARM. #3, CRIME AND CATNIP, was released in December. She, Rocco and Maxx make their home in Clifton, New Jersey, just twenty minutes from the Big Apple – New York. Catch up with them at www.tclotempio.net and www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Where to find them:

ROCCO’s blog:

www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Website:

https://www.tclotempio.net/

  facebook: https://www.facebook.com/toni.lotempio.5

Twitter:

@RoccoBlogger – https://twitter.com/@RoccoBlogger

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Purr M For Murder by T.C. LoTempio

Purr M for Murder: A Cat Rescue Mystery Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Crooked Lane Books (March 14, 2017) Hardcover: 304 pages ISBN-13: 978-1683310921 Kindle ASIN: B01N6P3WYP

Sydney McCall left behind an ex-fiancé and a New York advertising job to return home to Deer Park, North Carolina and help her sister, Kat, run the local animal shelter, Friendly Paws. Determined to save the shelter from financial trouble, Sydney and Kat organize a cat café fundraising event at a local coffee shop. Things are looking up until their landlord, Trowbridge Littleton, threatens to shut down the event. When Sydney drops by his art gallery to make peace, she finds Kat–along with Littleton’s dead body.

Local homicide detective Will Worthington–who just happens to be Sydney’s old high school crush–is highly suspicious of the sisters’ involvement. Desperate to clear their names from the suspect list, Sydney pounces on the investigation. With the help of one of the shelter cats, a savvy orange tabby named Toby, Sydney begins poking her nose into other local businesses whose owners may have benefited from Littleton’s death–until the killer notices she’s pawing a little too closely at the truth.

About the Author…..

While Toni Lotempio does not commit – or solve – murders in real life, she has no trouble doing it on paper. Her lifelong love of mysteries began early on when she was introduced to her first Nancy Drew mystery at age 10 – The Secret in the Old Attic. She (and ROCCO, albeit he’s uncredited) pen the Nick and Nora mystery series from Berkley Prime Crime – the first volume, MEOW IF ITS MURDER, debuted Dec. 2, 2014. Followed by #2, CLAWS FOR ALARM. #3, CRIME AND CATNIP, was released in December. She, Rocco and Maxx make their home in Clifton, New Jersey, just twenty minutes from the Big Apple – New York. Catch up with them at www.tclotempio.net and www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Where to find them:

ROCCO’s blog:

www.catsbooksmorecats.blogspot.com

Website:

https://www.tclotempio.net/

  facebook: https://www.facebook.com/toni.lotempio.5

Twitter:

@RoccoBlogger – https://twitter.com/@RoccoBlogger

Purchase Link:

Amazon B&N

a Rafflecopter giveaway

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

March 8 – Girl Lost In a Book – REVIEW

March 8 – Moonlight Rendezvous – REVIEW

March 8 – Melissa’s Eclectic Bookshelf – GUEST POST

March 9 – Bibliophile Reviews – REVIEW

March 9 – Must Read Faster – REVIEW

March 9 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

March 10 – Book Babble – REVIEW

March 10 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, INTERVIEW

March 10 – Classy Cheapskate – REVIEW

March 11 – A Cozy Girl Reads and Writes – REVIEW

March 11 – Babs Book Bistro – REVIEW

March 11 – Island Confidential – SPOTLIGHT

March 12 – Shelley’s Book Case – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST

March 12 – Lisa Ks Book Reviews – GUEST POST

March 13 – My Journey Back – REVIEW

March 13 – Mochas, Mysteries and Meows – REVIEW, INTERVIEW

March 13 – The Pulp and Mystery Shelf – GUEST POST

March 14 – Books, Movies, Reviews. Oh my! – REVIEW

March 14 – Brooke Blogs – REVIEW

March 14 – View from the Birdhouse – SPOTLIGHT

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March 15 – Mystery Thrillers and Romantic Suspense Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

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[actofwarquotes]

David K. Robertson, Reports on the Trials of Colonel Aaron Bur for Treason, 1808

Page 103: But the language of the act, which is plain, and most explicit, affords a satisfactory answer to this argument. It is exclusive of all possible doubts, by making the act of war consist in visible external preparation. The term levy in some lexicons means simply to raise; and if this plain sense and most natural meaning were to be adopted, there could then be no doubt, the prevention of which is certainly one of the benefits intended by the act. But it appears to me that it is also a reasonable construction; that it is all that reason can require. What is the reason avowed by all the books for requiring proof of an overt act to constitute treason? Every man knows that the moral turpitude consists in the mind and intention. Why then do we require proof of an act? It is because we cannot otherwise discover the intention. It is because the secret intentions of the mind lie beyond the ken of mortal sight. They can be known only to the man himself and to that Being whose eye can pierce the gloom of midnight and the still deeper gloom that shrouds the traitor’s heart. To his fellow men, those intentions can be manifested only by some external or overt act. I consider the phrase overt act as intended to be in contrast with secret intention; but whenever this secret intention ripens and breaks out into an act, of which the human senses can take cognizance, I consider the reason of the law as being satisfied. We are then relived from the necessity of prying into and guessing at the secrets of the heart. It is not pretended that any case ever occurred to contradict this idea, until the case which is reported by Ventris, which hath been said by some modern English writer, and pronounced by your Honor, to settle the principle that the mere enlistment of soldiers is not sufficient to constitute the levying of war. Permit me, with the utmost deference and respect for your Honor, to examine that case and see whether it justify a conclusion so board.

Page 129: The prisoner would urge farther, that these three men were patriots like yourselves: “My plan if I had one, he would say, was not disclosed to them. If I harbored treasonable intentions, their assembling would not conduce to the levying of war until my purpose were disclosed to them, and they agreed to it. They would be the first to seize me for trial if I were to propose a treasonable plan to them.” I cannot tell what answer the prosecutor would make to this. The prisoner then would argue, that there was no act of war committed by these three persons. The answer must be that they had fled security under an apprehension that the militia of Wood county would make war upon them or burn the house of one of them; and that was an overt act of war. And said the worthy gentleman yesterday “suppose we could prove that Aaron Burr sent word to them, ‘fly or the Philistines will be upon you.’” All this may be true, but it affords no proof that these three people on the island made war on New Orleans or the United States. If it does, then it shows, that if I run away and hide to avoid a beating I am guilty and may be convicted of assault and battery! This is a new and extraordinary way of making war. I do not know whether the worthy gentleman on the other side ought not to send a recipe for making this new kind of war to that country to which he alluded in his speech in opening this case, to king George the third. He told us with all the ingenuity which characterizes him, ‘that war might be made at the distance of three thousand miles as well as at a short distance;” that armies and fleets from the British shores might make war upon us Americans in our own country. What a blessing to the world, the discovery of such a peaceful war would be! How it would work his majesty’s brain to comprehend it. He would be as much puzzled as he was to find out how the apple got into the dumpling!

Page 143: A particular number of men is mentioned in the deposition of general Eaton, as having been alleged by the accused to have been adequate to the attainment of a particular purpose. No comment is made as to the sufficiency or insufficiency of that or any other particular number. Of how many men then must this body consist? Would three do? or would 20 or thirty be sufficient? Would less than 100 be sufficient? or must there be that special number more or less? I understand from this opinion, that an assemblage marching from a place of partial to a place of general rendezvous would not be a sufficient act to constitute levying of war, unless the body so marching had a warlike appearance or was marching directly to the scene of action; for the opinion cannot be reconciled to itself unless this be its meaning. For though it states, “that the meeting of particular bodies of men, and their marching from places of partial to a place of general rendezvous would be such an assemblage,” it had just before declared, that the traveling of individuals to the place of rendezvous would be equivocal and not have a warlike appearance. It could not understand by this, that three men marching without arms from a place of partial to a place of general rendezvous would be an act of treason in levying war, if a thousand men well armed and disciplined traveling to the place of partial rendezvous would be insufficient for that purpose. In order to make the opinion consistent with itself, it must be understood to mean, that any body of men must have an unquestionably warlike appearance to constitute of itself an overt act of war. The reason why the opinion of the court is thus susceptible of doubt is, that the court was not illustrating that point, nor was it in its contemplation to fix the law as to the number necessary to constitute a treasonable assemblage. I ask what is marching to a place of war but preparing for war? I ask whether preparing for war and making war be the same thing? I ask whether, as the law has defined this greatest of crimes known to it, that it “shall consist in levying war,” a court in expounding its rules shall declare, that preparation to levy war will be levying war?

Page 144: When the supreme court was deliberating on the case of Bollman and Swarthout, it was deliberating on a subject not before it as far as this case is concerned. Whether an assemblage with a treasonable intent were war or not, was not such a point as was necessary to be settled in Bollman and Swarthout’s case. Mr. Hay in opening his argument to the jury insisted, and referred to the opinion of the supreme court as supporting him, that a body of men actually assembly for the purpose of effecting by force a treasonable design were guilty of an overt act of treason in levying war: that is, their merely meeting for that purpose without committing any act amount of itself to an act of treason. We content that it was not necessary in the case before the court to determine whether such an assemblage amount of itself to an act of treason or not; and consequently, that the declaration of an opinion on a point not before the court and not necessary to be settled was extrajudicial and cannot be considered as authority by this court. If it were unnecessary to settle that point, the opinion will not be denied to be extrajudicial. We are then to inquire whether it were necessary that the supreme court of the United States should in that case settle the point, whether an assemblage of men with a treasonable intent, without arms and without force, of itself made war or not. Was it necessary that the court should say, that force must be used, or that a bare assemblage with an intent to commit treason was an overt act of war, when there was neither force nor an assemblage proved to have existed in the case before it? And if there was no assemblage, was it necessary to inquire into the effect of an assemblage, for the purpose of settling rules concerning it?

Page 145: The judges of the supreme court refer to the opinions of the judges of the circuit court in Pennsylvania, and profess to determine on the same principles. The cases decided before the judges in Pennsylvania were cases of rank hostility; of direct and immediate violence committed by the prisoners. As actual force was used int hose cases and there was a great assemblage, it was not necessary to decide a question relative to the effect of a mere assemblage without violence, or whether such a body would be sufficient of itself without force to constitute an overt act of war. …….. Mr. Mac Rae and Mr. Wirt have both stated, that they were at a loss to perceive how the opinions of the supreme court and of the judges of the circuit court of Pennsylvania were extrajudicial. It then becomes necessary for them to prove, that they were judicial and necessary to have been decided in that case. The onus probandi lies upon them. If they cannot show, that it was necessary to decide, that a mere assemblage, without arms and without force but having treasonable designs, constitutes alone an act of war, the decision can be no authority for them.

Page 150: The case in Kelyng p. 78, 79, where the four special verdicts were found against several persons prosecuted for treason, shows decisively the necessity of potential if not of actual force, and is completely exclusive of the idea, that a mere naked assemblage without arms or force constitutes treason. Acts of violence were committed by those persons, but all were not equally active, and some were merely present without doing anything. As to those who committed no actual violence, who used no force, they were acquitted; but the party consisted of a great number of persons, had arms, pulled down some houses, broke open a prison and let out several prisoners, and were proceeding to do more mischief when they were suppressed. The court was unanimous, that “as to Green in the first special verdict, and Bedel in the third special verdict, the verdict was not full enough to be judged treason as to them, because it only found that they were present, but found no act of force committed by them, and did not find that they were aiding or assisting to the rest. Yet Green is found to have been among them when they were doing the act of war, and throwing up his hat and hallooing with a staff in his hand; and Bedel being pursued by one of the soldiers called out to the rest to face about and not to leave him.

Page 156: What is the meaning of the word ‘war’ used in the constitution of the United States. There is, I believe, no word in the English language so generally understood, as this word is. There is no word more familiar to the minds of men in general; as contrasted to peace, it is understood by every body. But still there is no word that will admit less of a uniform standard of signification to express its various meanings from the highest to the lowest: a diversity which has been already noticed, from its technical, legal definition to its popular and ordinary acceptation. It is understood by all men from the most enlightened to the plainest. The question is, whether the word be intended in the popular, ordinary sense, or according to the English books, Littleton, Coke, or even the doctrine of the bloody Jefferies which makes an act of hospitality and kindness an act of war. What then is its interpretation as used in the constitution?

Page 177: Mr. Wirt contends, that even enlisting soldiers amounts to levying war; but that certainly bringing them together constitutes that crime. This however is inconsistent with Mr. Hay’s definition, which requires an assemblage convened to effect a treasonable purpose before their dispersion. In England enlisting men is sufficient to constitute an overt act of treason, in compassing gate king’s death, because the intention is the offense; the crime consists in the imagination. But where the crime does not consist in the intention but in war, there, nothing merely preparatory to, or short of an act of war will suffice. “But the potential force was intended to operate and did operate on New Orleans or on the people of Wood.” I have already shown, that there is not a shadow of a pretext for alleging, that there was any potential force to alarm the inhabitants of Wood county. As to New Orleans, the party was never in a state ready to act. Their circumstances, situation and want of preparation and of force all show that they were far from being ready to act, whatever intention they might have entertained; and therefore potential force did not operate on New Orleans.

Page 192: Before I enter into the investigation immediately before the court, I beg leave to make one or two remarks for the consideration of the gentlemen on the other side, particularly Mr. Lee and Mr. Martin. They all call aloud for an open deed of war: for the explosion of bombs, the thunder of cannon or at least the firing of small arms. They will not be satisfied without a battle. This ground they cannot take. The constitution speaks not of an overt act of war. The law speaks not of an overt act of war. It speaks of levying war. Why then this clamor for blood and carnage, for open deeds of war? Is it possible that these enlightened counsel do not perceive the difference between an open deed of war and an overt act of levying war? An open deed of war is an act of hostility, the employment of actual force, a battle. An open deed of levying war is the assemblage of troops. If you go beyond that line, if these troops employ force or with a battle, it is folly to call it an overt act of levying war; it is an open act of the war previously levied. Why did the constitution say an open act of levying war, if it meant an open act of war? If it had meant it, it would have said that treason shall consist in making war upon the United States; but that no person shall be convicted but by the testimony of two witnesses. If the respectable men who framed it had meant so, they would have said so in plain terms. There is a real essential difference between the two things. When the conspirators are prepared for battle, that is the overt act of levying war; but when a battle is fought, when the two hostile bodies meet and rush on to battle, then it is an act of war. Is not this distinction plain to the mind of every man of common sense? and is it not according to the obvious meaning of the constitution? Why then should these gentlemen, distinguished as they are for learning and talents, call so loudly and vehemently for open deeds of war, when they must have known, that the overt act of treason consisted in levying war against the United States and not in making it. This is an argument that ought to have great weight with them, because on the principles in which it is founded depends the preservation of this constitution to which they profess to feel such an invincible attachment.

Page 194: Well sir, what is the thing which the gentlemen concerned in this defense are calling on the court to do? The identical thing which judge Chase did. It is the same in principle precisely, to deliver an opinion on a question of fact, and that question referred already to the jury! They call on the court to decide whether there have been an open at of war or not. All their arguments are to prove, that this court has a right to decide that an act has or has not been proved. Will the court take away the power from the jury, because the prisoner asks it to do so? Suppose the court was now to say that the overt act was proved, how would it operate on the accused? I ask whether this court would be willing to answer the question of fact and submit he case to the jury with an impression, that its opinion would prejudice the minds of the jury against the accused. The gentleman will excuse me for saying that he manifests some degree of inconsistency, when he declares in court and in the face of the world, that the court is first to decide on facts, and that then the same facts are to be submitted to the jury. If the court will interfere on the motion of the accused, it would do so on the application of the prosecutor and prevent the accused from producing testimony in vindication of his innocence; which would be monstrous.

Page 253: An accessorial treason is a common law treason in its own nature. It exists in England, because the common law exists there; but it does not exist here, because treason consists only in levying war. If by the common law doctrine accessories be traitors, the same consequence does not follow in this country, that does in England. This crime, which is to consist only of levying war and adhering to the enemies of the country, is punishable by law, according to the discreation of congress; who may punish it in whatever way they may think proper; but the powers of congress have not been yet exercised over it. Whether it be through inadvertence, or otherwise, they have hitherto omitted to punish accessories; except in an inconsiderable degree, as to those after the fact, who are rescuers of persons convicted of or committed for treason. This court has nothing to do with it. It would seem very strange to the ear of an American to hear, that a man might be guilty at an after day; that after the cessation of a rebellion, a man may be guilty of an act of war in that rebellion! that after the war has ceased, there may be an act of levying that very war. Yet this part of the English law, the constitution has completely excluded. By the common law, this crime may be committed after the war has completely ceased, by receiving or giving comfort to a party who had been engaged in it.

Page 290: It is admitted that some overt act of war must be proved. But I do not know that I shall enter into a contest to show that a mere assemblage would be insufficient to constitute such an act. But there is an overt act laid in the indictment: that there was an assemblage armed and arrayed, and that they took boats or canoes and proceeded in them down the river to seize and take New Orleans; which is something more than a mere assemblage; and this must be proved as laid. In the cases of Damaree and Purchase, 8 St. Trials, 218.268, there was an overt act of war laid, or they were charged with compassing the queen’s death.

Page 301: Why is a receiver after the fact considered as a traitor? Because the law says that he is a principal in the treason. But it is as necessary to distinguish or specify the crime of advising treason, or that a person said a thing before the fact, as it is to distinguish the doing a thing, as receiving a person guilty of treason after the fact. Is there any distinction between them? Is not notice as necessary in one case as the other? Each is considered as a principal in the treason. It is surely as necessary to lay the receiver in the indictment as having done the principal act himself, as he has done that which the law says makes him a principal, as it is to charge the adviser with having performed the act of war himself, because he has committed what makes him in law a principal. If he have done an act which the law says makes him a principal in treason, and it is sufficient in any case, whoever special the facts, to charge the accused generally according to the legal effect, then he may be charged generally in every case; and there will be no necessity of a specification in any case.

Page 318: Having proved that under this indictment no evidence yet adduced is competent to convict the accused, I shall now make a few observations on one of the questions before your Honors. There is one proposition laid down by us which is of the greatest importance and requires the utmost deliberation. It is this: Admit that the acts on the island were done with an intention to subvert the government of the United States, (which I hold must be the motive to render them treasonable; for no person will controvert this position, that the acts of levying war, in order to be treasonable, must have been done with this design) yet there was no act of war, no violence done; there was no overt act of levying war, no treason committed.

Page 320: But says the gentleman, “levying war and making war are different things; an overt act of levying war and an overt act of war are not the same; the king of England can levy war, but his troops make the war; that he levies, but his officers and soldiers fight the battles and make it. I did not know before, that in the United States, levying or raising troops was the same thing as levying war. Troops are often raised. One hundred thousand men have been authorized to be called out; but I did not know that we were levying war, however desirous some individuals may be that it were so. But gentlemen say that it is a common expression that the king levies war; and his officers and soldiers actually make it. Why is it said that the king levies war? It is a very uncouth expression; but he is said to levy war, because he represents the nation. It is the nation in its national character that really makes war; and he is the person who is at the head of the nation; of which nation, the officers and soldiers are only the constituent parts. He is said to levy war, because he is the representative of the nation in its national capacity. The United States also make war in their national capacity. They are composed of individuals of whom the officers and soldiers, like the people of other countries, actually fight battles. It may as well be said, that if I, Luther Martin, knock a man down with my hand, I do not knock him down, but my hand does; because my hand is a constituent part of my body.

Page 340: He who reads with an intention to understand cannot possibly mistake their meaning. They tell him in plain terms that treason against the United States shall consist but in two acts: “that it shall consist only in levying war against them, or in adhering to their enemies giving them aid and comfort.” He who levies war against the United States and he who adheres to their enemies giving them aid and comfort are traitors and none other, by the very positive and plain language of this compact. Does the constitution say that he who advises these acts, that he who receives or comforts any person who has done either of these acts is guilty of treason. No person will say that he who counseled an act of war to be done is the person who actually did it. No person will say that he who advises another to adhere to the enemies of his country is the person who actually did adhere to them. He who advises procures or persuades, he who receives comforts or protects, or even he who has been active in aiding and assisting, but absent at a remote distance from the scene of action, is not the actor. The parts which these persons perform are all essentially different.

Page 352: The jury alone can decide the question whether there have been an overt act. The court only has the right to say what in law constitutes an overt act of levying war. The jury having this right have heard all the evidence on the part of the prosecution; and gentlemen insist that there was an overt act of war committed on Blannerhasset’s island. The court is applied to, to instruct the jury, that though they may believe all the facts hitch have been sworn to before them to be perfectly true and correct, yet they do not amount to an overt act of levying war. We say that the fact being proved by their own evidence, and it being impossible to deny that colonel Burr was not at Blannerhassett’s island, but at a considerable distance, two or three hundred miles off, when the act, said to have been done there happened, on the indictment on which colonel Burr is now standing on his trial, no evidence can be admitted of facts that took place not on the island but down the river. We pray the court, on general principles, to instruct the jury that though the facts given in evidence be fully proved to their satisfaction, yet in law they cannot be considered as an actual levying of war.

Page 353: A third method is to admit that all the facts sworn to are true, and then to move the court to instruct the jury what the law is as to those facts; as in this case we move the court to instruct the jury on two principal grounds: First, that there was not a fact committed on Blannerhassett’s island that went to prove an overt act of levying war. The other ground of application to the court is the inadmissibility of the testimony proving acts done elsewhere. The indictment charges him as an actor on the island; and the evidence of what was said or done elsewhere proves him to be an accessorial agent only. We insist that no evidence of acts or declarations which took place or were uttered after he left the island can be relevant testimony to charge colonel Burr as an immediate actor on the island. There was no act of war levied at the mouth of Cumberland. But if war had been levied there, how could it prove that colonel Burr was guilty of levying it on Blannerhassett’s island? I admit such evidence under this indictment would be contrary to the decision in the case of Vaughan; which we suppose he will admit to be law as he said it was according to common sense. For if he were guilty of one offense in taking away the customhouse barge, that was no evidence to prove another: that he cruised in the Loyal Clencartie against the king’s subjects; which was the offense laid in the indictment.

Page 364: Thus in this case, it is the duty of the court to instruct the jury that if the testimony be as we represent it, if there be no further evidence of acts on the island than what have been already adduced, he cannot be built of an overt act of levying war; because the acts hitherto proved do not constitute in law an overt act of war. But he has no dependence on authority. These principles of the common law which we so highly regard and from which we deduce many arguments, the gentleman considers as trash, as mere rubbish unworthy of his attention. His confidence is only in a new kind of forensic code called the system of common sense, according to which he supposes there were acts of war levied on the island. Sir, nothing is more uncertain than common sense. There are some plain leading principles of it in which we all agree. But when it is to be applied to particular subjects and especially to legal construction, to judicial interpretation according to every man’s conception, you will find there are as many different kinds of common sense as there are different features in the human face.

Page 422: It has been thought proper to discuss this question at large and to review the opinion of the supreme court, although this court would be more disposed to leave the question of fact, whether an overt act of levying war were committed on Blannerhassett’s island to the jury under this explanation of the law, and to instruct them that unless the assemblage on Blannerhassett’s island was an assemblage in force, was a military assemblage in a condition to make war, it was not a levying of war, and that they could not construe it into an act of war, than to arrest the further testimony which might be offered to connect the prisoner with that assemblage, or to prove the intention of those who assembled together at that place. This point, however, is not to be understood as decided. It will, perhaps, constitute an essential inquiry in another case.

Page 448: I trust I shall not be thought guilty of any impropriety in asking whether I be correct in my understanding of the opinion of the court delivered the other day. According to my construction of it, the evidence of the transactions on Blannerhassett’s island does not prove an overt act of war, does not come up to the constitutional crime of levying war; and if so, it would be extremely improper to press the prosecution against Blannerhassett and Israel Smith. I shall not encounter the opinion of the court by insisting on contrary doctrines, nor press them on a jury; and if it be the opinion of the court, that the evidence does not amount to levying war, I shall enter a “nolle prosequi.” As to all the indictments of treason I shall move to commit them, that they may be sent to the district where the overt act was committed. As it is of great consequence to the community, I hope the court will excuse me for the application I now make.

Page 449: Mr. Hay. I do not know that I am bound to give this specification, but I have no objection to do it, as far as I can. I have not very minutely examined the witnesses; but I have been told that at the mouth of Cumberland there were such acts as would constitute an overt act of war; that the assemblage descended from the mouth of Cumberland; and that all along the rivers Ohio and Mississippi to Bayou Pierre, their military array and warlike posture continued, and their numbers were increasing. It appears also that Mr. Burr was with them, and that he was the very soul of the expedition. It will be the province of the court, after having heard the evidence, to commit Mr. Burr, if it believe that an overt act has been committed. it will be the duty of the court to determine whether he shall be sent to Kentucky, Tennessee, or the Mississippi territory. I make this motion with considerable reluctance; but from the view which I have taken of the evidence, it is a course which my conscience has pointed out, and which, therefore it is my duty to pursue.