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sondepoch · 4 years

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Hogwarts, Basically (Solomon x Reader)

When you finally leave RAD, the last thing you expect is to be whisked off by Solomon to a human school of magic. What you expect even less is for the white-haired mage to become your dormmate, and to be forced into a life of spells, potions, and wizardry. But what you expect the least is to find yourself pining after the sorcerer, reduced to something akin to a lost puppy, staring at him in longing at every chance you get. Or, correction: What you expect the least is for Solomon to feel the same way.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

At the very beginning, Lucifer warned you: stay away from Solomon. Never trust the shady sorcerer. Keep your distance at all costs, and do not interact.

But you never listened.

No, you were convinced that you knew better. That the white-haired mage had good inside him, that he wasn't a demon in human skin with an agenda more suspicious than Diavolo's own. For an entire year, you believed in him, and the two of you stayed by each other's side the whole time you were in the Devildom.

You have so many good memories with him.

The two of you pulled pranks on Asmo. Downloaded TikTok onto Lucifer's phone. Ran a scam where you auctioned your souls off on D-Bay and kept the Grimm. You egged the student council hall on April Fool's day, and you even shared your food with the guy.

So many good memories.

So many tainted memories.

If you had known where it would land you, you never would have allowed yourself to get close to him.

"I fucking hate you," You grumble, darting forward and flopping onto your bed the second Solomon opens the door, groaning as you burrow your head in your pillow. It reeks of magic, much like everything else in this godforsaken place, and you're entirely sick of it, but you're too exhausted to even care right now. "I can't believe you fucking did this to me."

"Oh please, you're acting like this is the end of the world." The mage closes the door, and you hear the sound of shuffling as he puts his books away for the day, taking off his school jacket. His actions are innocent enough, but you're certain he finds amusement in your state, and the very thought fills your lungs with even more resentment toward your current situation.

"It is the end of the world," You grumble in protest. "I'm supposed to be relaxing right now. Playing video games with friends. Hanging out at a club. Wasting time on twitter, sending celebrities stupid pickup lines. Not doing more schoolwork at another fucking school of magic."

Solomon laughs lightly, a warm sound that you wish you didn't like.

"Technically, RAD wasn't a school of magic," He tells you.

"Oh, who fucking cares? This school is! You've kidnapped me and dumped me in Hogwarts, basically, and I hate Harry Potter!"

"How unfortunate for you, then." Solomon grins boyishly as he rolls your body over, eyes twinkling with mirth as he gazes at your utterly unamused expression. "Relax. You'll begin to enjoy your time here, once you get used to the course load. I dare say you might even find it fun to learn about our magical heritage."

"When pigs fly, Solomon," You quip back, opting to ignore the fact that your potions teacher told you that your end-of-year project would actually be to create a solution potent enough to give farm animals wings.

You sigh grumpily and roll over, closing your eyes and relaxing quietly as the sorcerer pats your shoulder, quietly telling you not to nap for too long, so you have time to finish your homework later.

You ignore him, for the most part.

I'll never enjoy it here, you convince yourself. As much as you love spending time with Solomon, you don't have it in you to completely change your life and begin studying magic, irregardless of how much the teachers at this school want you to. Ignoring the sound of scribbles as Solomon begins his own homework, you tell yourself that the mage is wrong, that all you need to do is flunk out during this first semester and then you'll be returned to your normal life in your home country.

What you don't expect is for Solomon's words to be proven true.

One week into your time at the academy, you've just begun to grow used to the course load. The students at school stop raising eyebrows at your face, and as you begin to grow accustomed to the school, it becomes accustomed to you.

Two weeks in, you've already fallen into a loose rhythm.

By three weeks, you've developed what a less apprehensive person would call "friends," and by four weeks, you're genuinely giving your studies your all, learning spellwork and enchantments with an almost-passionate fervor.

By the time the month has ended, you've actually forgotten your plans to flunk out.

And though you're surprised by your change of heart, the never-fading smile on Solomon's face makes you suspect that he predicted this from the start.

You glance up at him from your textbook, momentarily halting your note-taking to study the way the enthralled light never fades from his eyes, even as he glances from book to book while continuing to draw a summoning circle for his demonology class, somehow looking pleased even as he cross-checks his image.

You groan.

You've found yourself glancing up at Solomon more and more often in these past few days, distracted from your own studying by the way his hair falls over his forehead, or the way his chest sometimes peeks through when he undoes the top buttons of his dress shirt, or the way he sometimes bites his lip cutely when going over a particularly difficult passage. Hell, you once spent five minutes staring at the sorcerer's hands, because they looked oh-so-soft as he took notes on the book he was deciphering.

The first few times, you convinced yourself that it was merely because of how eye-catching he was. And that was a fair enough excuse. After all, the colors of this academy are black and gold—Solomon's pale skin stands out against the dark fabrics of the uniform and the even-darker furnishings of your dorm room.

But after catching yourself gazing wistfully at his lips a few too many times, you were forced to confront the truth.

You have a crush on the aggravating, annoying, sassy, difficult, handsome, cute mage.

But that's not even the worst part.

You think he knows.

A warmth creeps onto your cheeks the moment you begin to think about all the instances where Solomon has caught you staring at him over these past few weeks. There are almost too many examples. Early in the morning, when his hair is all messed up. Right after breakfast, when his lips have changed color to whatever potion he drank. On your way back from school, when you walk back to the dorm together. During homework sessions like these. Right after he steps out of the shower—oh, he's caught you gawking at him far too many times after returning from the shower. (You tried to play it off by saying that you were merely studying his pact marks, but you know he knows the truth. His abs are loosely defined, but they're there, and you want to lick them so bad it hurts.)

"MC?" Solomon calls, and you blink.

Fuck, you think, suddenly realizing that you were staring at him while you daydreamed about him.

Add one more to the count, you think with an internal groan, silently wondering how many more times the sorcerer will catch you staring at him.

"You good?" He questions, and you can see the smirk he's trying so hard to fight off his face.

"Uh—I'm going to the library," You blurt, opting to avoid the sorcerer's gaze as you grab your jacket, looping your arms through it with deftness despite how utterly befuddled your thoughts are as you escape the room. You don't have your books with you, or your library card for that matter, but anything is better than responding to that all-too-playful question.

You flee before Solomon has a chance to say anything else, all but running to the stairs and sauntering on down until you're outside the dorm building, the air crisp in your lungs as you inhale sharply.

I'm such a mess, you think to yourself, the lingering warmth on your cheeks beginning to cool as you fold your arms and walk in the direction of what you hope is the library. A few people crossing you nod their heads in greeting, quick smiles thrown your way as you return them, but no one stops to converse with you, and you're left alone to debate your affections for the sorcerer.

You sigh, trying to sort out your thoughts.

Solomon must harbor some affection for you, you know that.

After all, he's spent far too many nights explaining foreign concepts to you, calmly navigating you through the waters of magic where he could have simply directed you to a tutoring board.

Moreover, you've seen how he behaves with other students here at the academy. No matter who has come to your dorm, be two kids it for a group project or a single friend in preparation to summon a demon they're interested in, there's a barrier of cool distance Solomon maintains with everyone else, one that simply seems to disappear around you.

Distance, you think, recalling the awkward way Solomon avoids physical contact with others, using sorcery to do things as simple as handing a glass of water to a guest. With you, though, you've both only grown closer, once-awkward pats now having turned into comfortably leaning on each other whenever one of you is tired. Last week, Solomon even ran a hand through your hair, and though he blinked afterward in surprise, as if he hadn't meant to do that, there was an undeniable feeling of closeness to his actions, something which others would hardly expect to see from him.

Another sound of frustration spills from your lips, aggravated at your situation with the sorcerer. The two of you are closer than others, but still not close. More than casual friends, but hardly intimate. Beyond nothing, but not yet something.

You kick a rock lying on the ground, watching it sail into the grass as you brood over the fact that Solomon is more confusing than the history of magic.

And you might brood some more, maybe even consider confessing your affections to the sorcerer in question, if not for the fact that you randomly look up and the building that greets you is not the school library.

You blink, abruptly turning around to check the way you came, but it is also a road that you've never seen, never heard of, and certainly have never navigated.

"Fuck," You mutter to yourself, realizing your predicament.

You're lost.

***

In your dorm room, Solomon is growing increasingly frustrated over the summoning circle he's been instructed to sketch. His fingers are supposed to be tracing the emblem of Mephistopheles, but it's so similar to Barbatos (and he's so used to drawing the summoning circle of Barbatos) that he keeps messing up at the end and has to restart all over again.

Or at least, that's what he tells himself is the cause for his repeated failures.

Solomon is hardly dumb—he's well aware that the reason for his utter inability to focus right now is caused solely and explicitly by you, and that this would not be happening if he weren't worried for your whereabouts.

But at the same time, there's nothing he can do about the fact that you're already gone, or the fact that he just messed up again on this seal.

A frustrated groan leaves Solomon's lips, inwardly cursing himself for driving you from the room.

After all, he really needs to get this assignment done.

Then again, it's not like he would be doing much of a better job if you were still here.

The sorcerer can never find himself fully able to focus around you, eyes always drawn upward to study you. It feels like if he casts his gaze away for too long, he'll miss something—the way your eyes light up every time you understand a concept, the way your eyebrows furrow every time you don't. It's the little things he tries to pay attention to: how you silently nod your head at the end of every sentence you read to the way you aimlessly fumble with your blanket whenever an assignment bores you.

Solomon is positive that he's successfully picked up on every one of your little quirks, by now. At a single glance, he can tell what subject you're studying by the way you're sprawled out over your bed, and if he looks a little longer, he might even be able to tell how good a mood you're in based on the way you tap your pen against your notebook. Give him enough time, and he's even picked apart how the way you kick your feet in the air relates to how nervous you are for an upcoming quiz.

Yeah, Solomon really hasn't been doing too well in his school, with how much he's been focusing on you.

Of course, you don't notice it at all. No, Solomon cast a spell long ago which makes it look like he's studying diligently even as he gazes absentmindedly at the way you run a hand through your hair when you're tired, making it incredibly easy for him to catch all the little glances you've been giving him these past few weeks.

Does he feel guilty for watching you watch him?

Absolutely.

Does he think about removing the spell?

All the time.

Does that mean he will change anything?

Most definitely not.

The look of shock on your face every time he casually "catches" you staring at him is too attractive for him to stop, especially since the immediate state of fluster it induces is so amusing to watch.

But that doesn't stop him from regretting calling you out just now, because while he's pretty sure you know your way around the campus, he's also well-aware that whenever your head is in a jumble, you lose all sense of awareness.

I'll wait, he decides, rapping his pencil against the outline of the sketch he's working on, reaching for a ruler. I need to finish this assignment, anyway.

But then ten minutes turns into twenty, and by the time Solomon is done with his assignment, the hour is over, signaled by the four loud rings from the grandfather clock on the ground floor.

The mage glances at your empty bed, set just six feet across from his, and he frowns.

I'll wait a little longer.

But one hour stretches into two, and two stretches into three, and nearly four hours have passed by the time the sun sets, and Solomon is pacing back and forth in the dorm, glancing at the door every time he turns, in hopes that you'll walk through it.

Fucking hell, he thinks to himself, grabbing his academy jacket as he flips his book closed and shoves it onto his desk.

He isn't going to torture himself any longer like this.

Hell, he'll confess if that's what it takes to bring you back, because right now, he's going crazy cooped up in this room and there's only one thing that's going to calm him down.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, he yanks the door open, all final hopes of you standing on the other sides crushed when he sees the almost-empty hall, and the questioning eyes of students wondering why he's heading out when it's so close to curfew.

He huffs in exasperation, slamming the door shut as he walks out, long legs carrying him in the direction of where he suspects you got lost.

He's really fallen for such a troublesome person.

Then again, Solomon adores even that part of you.

***

You've never been so relieved to see a clump of white hair.

Or, well, maybe you have—you know, given that Mammon has saved you more than a few times from Lucifer's wrath—but you've never been so relieved in the human world to see a familiar, fluffy clump of white hair.

"Solomon!" You exclaim the moment you set your eyes on the mage, sprinting forward to capture him in a tight hug. He stiffens at the contact, and you inwardly note that this is probably the closest you've ever physically been to him, but you don't care. Maybe it's the instincts that were drilled into you after being surrounded by demons for a whole year, but you had seriously begun to think that you would die out here.

"How on earth did you get here?" Solomon asks incredulously, gazing at your surroundings.

"I, um." You suddenly feel embarrassed. "I got lost, and then I sort of just picked a direction and walked."

"You..." Solomon pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation, unable to even bring himself to repeat your words back to you. "You do realize that that's the worst possible thing you could have done, right?" The mage shoots a frown your way. "Do you even know how far off-campus we are right now?"

You ignore his words off with a smile, following him gleefully as he shakes his head in disapproval. "Then isn't it wonderful that I had you to come find me?"

You laugh, the sound filling the otherwise empty night, missing the way Solomon fights off an instinctive smile at the sound.

"If you turn tail and run away every single time I catch you staring at me, we're going to have an issue," The sorcerer mutters, more under his breath than to you. You ignore his words, neither wanting to nor knowing how to respond. "Your crush on me is only going to bring more trouble to us, if things continue on like this."

And that gets to you.

(And though you don't know it, the sorcerer is equally mortified by his statement. He certainly hadn't wanted to confront you like that.)

"You know?!" You exclaim, eyes round in horror. You always knew that he must have had his own suspicions, but for him to just come out and say it? You stare at the man with a mouth agape, raw embarrassment warming your cheeks for the second time today.

"Ah, yes," Solomon comments lamely, wincing when he hears how his words must sound. "I mean, ahem, I would actually, erm, consider myself, goodness look at that goose, to harbor similar sentiments.

"You...what?" You ask suspiciously, partially confident that Solomon just confessed but at the same time confused whether his words mean what you think they do. "You like me?" You ask hesitantly, watching the mage's expressions carefully.

"'Like' is such a strange word," Solomon begins. "One might consider it to be an expression of indifference, whereas another would—"

You cut the mage off with a sharp elbow to the stomach and a pointed glare, warning him to stop being around the bush.

"Fine," He mutters, shooting you a sulky glare. "Yes. I like you, okay? Are you happy now?"

A warm smile blooms on your face as you hear the sorcerer say those words, savoring the beautiful pink that swells on his usually-pale cheeks as he averts his eyes and crosses his arms.

"Yes, that does make me happy," You muse, grinning. "For how long?" You probably didn't have to ask that question—but Solomon's evident embarrassment makes it impossible not to milk this situation for all it's worth.

"Since...the Devildom," He mutters, the pink on his cheeks surging with even more prominence.

You blink at that.

The Devildom?

That's even longer than you've liked him!

"Wow," You confess, eyes slightly round in wonder. "I...I had no idea, this whole time."

"Yeah, I...kind of made sure of that."

"What do you mean?" You pause in your walk to glance at the man standing next to you. "How'd you stop me from figuring it out?"

"I, uh," Solomon scratches the back of his neck, glancing away sheepishly. "I may have used magic."

Wow.

Well, that—

Yeah, that was entirely expected.

A huff leaves your throat, and you cross your arms dramatically as you saunter ahead of Solomon, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that Asmo once warned you that, if Solomon ever started liking you, this was exactly the sort of thing he would do.

You pause, glancing right and then left as you approach a crossing, completely unsure of which way to go but unwilling to reduce yourself to asking the sorcerer from help. Not when you can feel the waves of apology radiating off him.

"Are you mad?" He asks when you stop, and the hesitant inflection of his voice only makes you fall for him more because of how annoyingly adorable you find it.

"Maybe," You respond, deciding to keep him in suspense. "But you can make it up to me."

Before Solomon can ask how, you walk in front of him and turn around such that you're facing him, one arm on your hip as you send a confident smirk.

"Given that we both like each other, see..." You trail off, standing in front of him with a devilish grin on your face as you wait for him to piece together what you're hinting at.

You see his eyes widen, the moment of realization dawning in his eyes as he understands what you're asking him to do.

Solomon doesn't hesitate much after that. He barely spends a single moment preparing himself, and then one hand is reaching for your cheek while his lips pull closer, and you savor the sight of his eyes closing as he presses his lips to yours, and then your own eyes are closed, basking in the feeling of warmth as you grin and lean into the kiss, lifting your own arms to his neck, looping them around to play with his hair the way you've thought about so many times.

Something about the situation is undeniably blissful, undeniably comfortable, and undeniably right as you both kiss, and the very notion that you could have ever been so hesitant about doing this makes you both laugh, the two of you smiling and giggling into the kiss like fools.

You lean back slightly, pulling away to beam at the sorcerer with a proud smile, but Solomon chases your lips, dipping his head forward and halting you from going further back by snaking a hand around your waist. Not at all minding this development, you grin as he turns the kiss passionate, slipping his tongue through your lips with a determined force you can't help but be turned on by, and then the lightheartedness of the previous moment is replaced by a sudden passion for more of this, more of the feeling of Solomon's mouth against yours, more of him.

You bring your hands to his chest, pushing him backward and onto a bench that could not be more conveniently placed as you press his body down onto it, and he doesn't bother commenting on how you're wrinkling his shirt when you grab fistfuls of it and straddle his lap. Or maybe he does try, but you'll never find out, because seconds later your lips are back to being pressed against his and everything else in the world disappears.

"Fuck," Solomon whispers, gasping when you part for air, his fingers just about to slip under your shirt as he caresses your waist.

"Yeah," You respond, knowing exactly what he's talking about. When your eyes dart from his flushed neck to his eyes, the look he gives you is nothing short of sinful.

Seconds later, the two of you are kissing again—because really, Solomon can't look at you like that and not expect you to immediately throw yourself at him—and his fingers really do squirm their way underneath your shirt, the feeling of his touch almost electric as his fingers grip your waist firmly.

And then it really doesn't matter that you're both still in public, that you're straddling Solomon on a public bench and that it's almost well curfew, because holy fuck you've both wanted to do this for way longer than anyone should have to wait, and now that you've started, nothing will pull you apart.

Bonus:

From his lovely little cloud in the heavens, Simeon cheers, a warm smile on his face as he watches his two favorite humans give in to the attraction that has always been painfully obvious to him.

He hums peacefully, internally wondering how he'll go about collecting his money from Lucifer, now that he's won their bet about how long it would take for the two of you to grow intimate—but his bliss is short-lived as he watches you tug Solomon's tie off, a light gasp leaving both his and Solomon's lips, though for two very different reasons.

"No!" Simeon cries, gasping dramatically with a hand over his chest as he realizes what is happening. "You're in public! In public!"

He moans in distress, falling to his knees as he sends a prayer up to Father for you both, his horror widening as he catches sight of buttons popping off your shirt as Solomon slips his hands underneath it, both of you starved and desperate for more contact than your clothes can provide.

"Little lambs!" He wails in horror, and all the other angels stop what they're doing for a moment to wonder what has their Simeon in such a twist, nearly every angel in the heavens listening to the sound of his utterly defeated whimpers that follow as he crawls back into bed, trying his best to forget the unholy sight that now plagues his mind.

"Forgive me, Father," He murmurs, fingers darting from his forehead to his chest, then right and left. But then, he thinks of a better prayer: "Forgive them."

Bonus bonus:

Centuries later, Simeon will reluctantly (and drunkenly) recount this tale to Asmodeus, who will immediately cheer in support. The fifth-born will claim to have always sensed the unspoken sexual tension between the two of you, and has always been an ardent supporter of "giving in to temptation," regardless of how public one's surroundings may be. After hearing Simeon's story, he'll order another round of drinks for the bar, paying for it himself in honor of everyone's two favorite humans, the demon cheering both your names loudly and downing a shot before promptly passing out on Simeon's lap.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 4.3k

Notes: Fun fact: originally, the academy that mc and solomon are at was supposed to be RAS - the royal academy of Solomon - just like RAD, but solomon was the headmaster (and there was a corresponding RAM run by Michael in the Celestial Realm) :) Not fun fact: I’m also working on a diavolo fic right now and it feels like every word is a breath of air being ripped from my already asphyxiated lungs :)

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Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

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alternativewinxcontinuity · 3 years

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April has begun, a new month, a new start.

To celebrate the First of April, I've decided to embark on a new project. Some might say it's a little Foolish when I have so much else to do, but it must be done:

Fate: the Re-Winxed Saga!

We'll be starting off with a fixing of the reason Bloom ran away from home. I don't know about anyone else, but I always found it jarring how Bloom essentially had two sets of parents played by the same actors.

One pair were abusive a$$hats, on of whom thought their daughter was a freak, the other was basically a doormat with no opinions of their own, meanwhile the other couple were loving and “always knew she was meant for bigger things”.

So I've changed the reason behind Bloom's house burned down, and restored her artistic talents to her. There's nothing wrong with liking repairing old lamps, but we saw it once to point out how much of a “weirdo” she was, and then it was gone.

I've also added in a bit to explain how Farah found her, while maintaining Stella's OG presence in the scene.

I know there's a prequel book out (soon?) now that's supposed to fill in that blank, but I've just gone ahead with it.

Warnings for minor implications of sexual assault that never actually happened.

Here we go:

Fire\Starter

Bloom's sleep was fitful.

She felt hot in her dreams, flushed with embarrassment and rage as Mitzy's obnoxious laugh played on infinite repeat. The condemning looks from her peers, from strangers on the street, plagued her like a thousand daggers.

In the waking world Bloom's body kicked back her sheets and writhed like she was fighting off an attacker.

In her dreams Bloom saw the sweetly deceitful face of Mitzy's cousin.

Bloom was an artist, she'd been drawing since she'd been young. Her art had won some competitions, small and local, but so important to her.

Important enough that her parents had bought her a graphics tablet for her birthday when all the other kids her age were getting bikes. It was the most expensive gift they'd ever gotten her.

She'd used it frequently, making digital art now alongside the more traditional paintings and sketches. She'd gotten good enough to be asked and paid for commissions.

And that's how Mitzy had managed to sneak her cousin in, to set a trap.

Moira had commissioned Bloom to make a 'tasteful nude' in 'that old European style, you know the one?' and Bloom hadn't thought anything of it. She'd let Moira into her home, into the converted solar-turned-art studio she'd been using for almost a full year now and...

Bloom had spent every day since cursing herself for not noticing the similarities. Moira and Mitzy looked so alike when you saw them together, Bloom didn't know how she'd missed it.

Maybe it was because Moira had smiled kindly, hidden her smirk and contempt better than Mitzy ever had.

Bloom had only touched Moira once, a gentle arm on the elbow to steady her while Moira was in her under garments, but the way she'd spun that into lies of assault...

Bloom could see it perfectly in her head, Moira laying casually on the couch of Bloom's studio, skin mostly bare and a sweet smile on her face.

In her dreams it warped into a smirk, lips cracking apart until Mitzy's laugh rolled out of the gaping maw. In her dreams, Bloom set Moira on fire.

Her rage, pure and true becomes an unstoppable flame, so hot it melts the walls, melts her tormentors skin. In the dream Bloom screams her rage and the world is consumed and-

-Bloom wakes, choking. She rolls to the side and tumbles from the sweat soaked mattress to the warm wooden floors of her room. Her gasping breaths drag the scent of smoke and paint into her lungs, but she ignores the remnants of her dream and tries to calm herself.

The scent doesn't fade.

It gets stronger.

Somewhere below her on the ground floor, glasses shatter and Bloom hears a familiar whoof. She'd heard it in her father’s educational videos on fire.

Her studio is on fire.

Her house is on fire!

“MUM! DAD!” Bloom screams as loud as she can, trying to remember what she's supposed to do. She tears her pillow case off her pillow, scrambles to put her laptop, graphics tablets and her three recharge cords into it before pulling her sheet free and wrapping it around herself.

She grabs her phone on the way out.

“MUM! DAD!”

Bloom makes her way to their room down the hall, the smoke in the air thickening.

“FIRE!!”

Her parents meet her at the door, their own sheet wrapped around them both to help filter the smoke, they have a few things as well.

Together they crouch down low and make their way down stairs, Bloom's father, Mike, already on his cell phone calling for the Fire Brigade.

They're almost free and clear when her mother, Vanessa, tries to head for the family office.

Bloom calls “mum, no!” at the same time her dad says “'Nessa stop!”

But Vanessa darts away, just past the office door to grab a single box and out again, away from the spread of the fire.

Bloom feels a flicker of relief for half a second before something in the house explodes, letting out a torrent of flame in her mother's direction.

Bloom screams and flings out her hand as if she could do anything to stop what's about to happen.

For a heartbeat Bloom feels something well up inside her, something dark and powerful, and the wave of fire splits around her mother.

The trio stand, stunned, until Mike comes to his senses, “'Nessa, move!”

And they bolt to the door together, out onto the small lawn in time to see the lights of the fire trucks round the corner.

In the days to come, they will recover the items which remain, few as they are. Bloom's childhood book of fairy stories was somehow untouched by the flames.

Mitzy will spread a new rumour about Bloom as part of her campaign to ruin Bloom's life, saying Bloom started the fire.

The investigation will rule it an accident, suspected faulty wiring in the art studio.

But Bloom knows, with an awful certainty: Mitzy was right for once, Bloom had started the fire somehow. She knows her parents suspect it too, but they won't say anything, not even about how Bloom had made the wave of fire part.

There's an elephant in the room now, it hovers awkwardly about their family, makes every conversation feel like trying to walk through broken glass in the dark without stepping on any.

Bloom tries not to go to sleep. She only makes it a few days before she finds herself constantly drifting off. Her parents watch her with fear, telling her to sleep.

But she can't, don't they understand that? What if she starts another fire?

She leaves their motel room, takes her phone and uses some of the money she earned from her art to by a sleeping bag and some snacks. Searches the internet for a place to stay with no people and as little flammable material as possible.

She finds an old warehouse that will do the trick. She buys a small fire extinguisher on her way there.

Her phone tells her she's slept for two days when she wakes up with a horrific dehydration headache.

She feels a little better for the sleep, she hasn't burned down the world while unconscious. There's a public showering area in a pool several blocks away, she manages to sneak in and get clean.

Begins to feel almost human again.

Bloom falls into a routine, sleeping in the warehouse, showering in the public washrooms, reading everything she can find on what the internet calls 'pyrokinesis'. The scientific side, or the fringe-science side of things feels wrong somehow.

She can't explain it, but something in her knows that's not the path she's looking for.

She tries folklore and myths instead. Feels pulled towards the stories of fae and dragons.

There's an abandoned quarry not far from town, and Bloom manages to make her way there with some candles, matches and her thankfully unused fire extinguisher.

She can't conjure fire, can't put it out, can't even provoke it. She's missing something, she knows, she can feel it.

Bloom comes across some 'majick' on one of the websites she finds looking for answers. A way to call a fae and force them to answer any questions you have. Bloom scoffs but takes a screenshot before backing out to another page.

Several days later she makes the mistake of looking at social media.

She's officially a runaway at this point, and Mitzy has used her absence to establish Bloom's guilt.

“Bloom burned her house down to fake her death to avoid facing charges of assault,” is the going theory.

It makes Bloom mad enough to set her sleeping bag on fire.

The following morning she buys a new one, and some things from the list of 'spell' ingredients. She's making no progress on her own, she's desperate.

Bloom returns to the quarry, she doesn't want the smell of incense in the warehouse, just in case. She fills a small bowl with water and a piece of quartz, waits for the moon to rise over head and does her best to match the google-translate’s reading of the 'some magical European language' the spell requires.

For a moment she sits, feeling like a fool, her eyes closed. Then she feels like she's falling.

Or flying?

There's a wind but it's intangible, a forest but it's colours are vibrant in a way Bloom's never seen, like they're leaking energy.

And then there's a tug, like someone has pulled her up short, and a woman with soft, pale brown hair and kind but curious eyes.

The woman opens her mouth but Bloom jerks back in shock, and startles so hard her leg flies out to knock over the bowl, spilling the water everywhere.

Bloom stays there for several long minutes, panting like she'd run a marathon, but then a real wind blows and her damp jeans go cold against her skin. She packs everything up and runs back to the almost safety of her warehouse.

Bloom is awoken by the sound of the warehouse door opening and closing. She's confused for a moment before the sound of two sets of footsteps has her scrambling upright, and out of her sleeping bag.

It's the woman from Bloom's... spell? Vision?

She smiles at Bloom, and Bloom feels herself relax.

“Hello, I'm Farah Dowling,” she gestures to herself. Behind Farah, a young woman, blonde and roughly to same age and nervousness level as Bloom, clears her throat slightly, so Farah Dowling adds: “And this is Stella,” Stella waves, “we're here to help you, if you'll let us?”

Bloom knows better than to trust strangers, but this woman had been in her vision.

“You can help me?” Bloom asks, her voice sounding far smaller and unused than she was expecting.

“I'd certainly like to try,” Farah says kindly, her hand reaching out to Bloom, letting Bloom make the choice.

Bloom gathers her things and takes Farah Dowling's hand, Farah squeezes it gently, it's comforting. Bloom sobs as she realises this is the first real human contact she's had in... weeks now.

“Come on,” Farah and Stella return to the warehouse door, “Stella, if you could?”

“Yes Miss Dowling,” Stella gives Bloom a quick eyebrow wiggle, like she's about to show off, and places her hand on the door.

'She has nice hands,' Bloom thinks distantly as the large sunburst ring on Stella's finger glows golden, the light spreading out to coat the door and it's frame.

When Stella opens it, the door no longer leads outside the warehouse, but out into a verdant forest. Bloom can smell the leaf litter, there's the smell of moisture, like there's rain about to fall.

Stella steps through into the forest, holding the door open for Farah and Bloom to follow.

“Welcome to Avalon,” Stella says as she sweeps out an arm to indicate the trees around her, “home of Alfea school for Heroics and Fairies.”

“Fairies?” Bloom can feel herself smiling, excitement building. Her parents had always affectionately despaired at her life long obsession with the mythological creatures.

...her parents...

Bloom wavered.

“Can, can I just have a moment to text my parents?” Bloom looks between the two... women? Fairies? She's afraid that any second this will turn out to be a dream, or worse, real and she'll somehow throw away her chance.

“Of course,” Farah says, her voice full of understanding, “take all the time you need.”

“As long as you only need ten minutes,” Stella cuts in, “because that's how much longer I can hold this doorway open.”

Farah gives Stella a fond but exasperated look.

Bloom shakes her head, “I only need two minutes, tops.” She pulls out her phone, spends thirty seconds undoing the call blocker and sends her text before reinstalling the blocker, too scared to hear her parents reply.

What if it was “stay gone”?

“I'm ready,” Bloom says, and Farah ushers her through into Avalon.

[I'm OK. Sorting some things out. I Love You Both.]

Mike and Vanessa almost collapse in relief, their baby girl is alright. They tell the police to stop actively looking for Bloom, but to keep an eye out, and to tell her they miss her if she's seen.

The pray she'll come home on her own.

#fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #Fate the rewinxed saga #patching some lore #my idea of an april fools prank is changing the fandom of my blog for a day

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loreleywrites · 4 years

Text

The Gateshead Engine

If you bought the itch.io game bundle for racial justice and inequality a month ago, one of the games it contains is a single-player ttrpg called The Gateshead Engine by Adam Roy (Follow the link to buy and play yourself!)

The basis of the game is simple: It is Victorian England, and you have been commissioned to built a steampunk mech. You flip cards from a tarot deck to give you situations for your diary entries, and you can finish...basically whenever you want.

I enjoyed it greatly, and wanted to publicly share my game. Content warning for a bit of body horror and minor surgical stuff at the end? It’s not like, explicit though. Anyway, I haven’t stretched my horror muscles in a while, and I love how this game started vs where it ended. Hope y’all enjoy!

Starting Questions:

—Who are you, and why did you agree to build the Engine?

I am Loreley Weisel, German thermodynamicist on the brink of bankruptcy. Europe is corrupt, and my will careens towards destruction.

—Who is your patron, and what, if anything, do you know about them? Why did they tell you they wanted the Engine?

My patron is an English aristocrat, Thomas Boroughshire III. All I know is that he has deep pockets and a fascination for thermophysics. He wants my Engine as a mechanical marvel, a party trick for a boy with too many years behind him.

—What is your community like? What do they value and what do they fear?

The community is wealthy. Large estates line a well-kept road. Dogs are bred. Horses are shoed. Foxes are hunted. Gardens beg for release from their clipped restraints. The air itself is made of brick. They value stability, power (or the projection of it), and greed.

—What will the Engine do when it’s completed, and what will it change? (This may shift during play; for now, decide what you think the answer is when you agree to build the Engine.)

My Engine is a herald of death. The aristocracy will be beaten into submission, and England will follow France in the march towards the guillotine.

My Engine:

Diary:

Monday, April 26, 1880—

I do not belong here, in this kingdom, in this estate, in this…garage. Hope’s Paradise is far from the largest house in this community, and His Highness can barely provide enough space for me to work. He does not respect me, nor does his staff. Dinners will be cold on nights I work late. There will be no hot water when I go to draw a bath. They do not want me here.

Fitting enough; I do not wish to dwell here any longer than I have to.

The neighbors are no better. Squire Duncannon of Blah Blah Blah invites me to speak German whenever he harasses me with what he calls conversation, but refuses to use the tongue himself. His wife has never uttered a word beyond her scowl. When I pass by Covington Place, the children stop and watch, twittering among themselves. I wonder what the Duke and Duchess have told them about me. I would not know, for I have never been allowed inside their gates.

England will burn, and this wretched grove of greed will be the tinder.

Wednesday, April 28, 1880—

That godforsaken child has entered my workshop again. Grease smeared all across the floor. Handprints of coal dust cover every box and bench. Every fire hazard should come at the cost of a finger. The little brat will have nubs by week’s end.

Friday, April 30, 1880—

Saturday, May 1

A song. Melancholic, but strong. Thunderous, but ephemeral.

How many hours have slipped by tonight? Dream grips my mind like a starving urchin with hardtack. Maybe these gears and pipes are singing me a lullaby.

Oh for heaven’s sake it’s half two. To sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 4, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. Every thief with deep pockets thinks themselves a scientist just because they bought opium from one once. I know how to build my Engine. Fuck off with this talk about gas compression. My math is sound, and changing one element means redesigning the entire boiler system.

His Highness has been placated with some minor aesthetic downgrades that better cater to his asinine tastes. For now.

Wednesday, May 5, 1880—

Fucking Third of Family horseshit-brained fool. If it weren’t for the coal dust handprints, I’d think he was the child ransacking my workshop with relentless fervor. Instead, he has simply decided to rearrange my supplies to the garage entrance. My ankle will heal in a few days, but I cannot work on my Engine until it mends. Time is money, and he has more money than I have time.

Sunday, May 9, 1880—

The ankle works.

Monday, May 10, 1880—

His Highness invited his dearest, most important friends to dine in his atrociously cultivated garden. The Wells boy snuck off and found me in my workshop. I have never met another child like him. His curiosity is insatiable, and he knows more about thermodynamics than most learned men I’ve met.

He asked me a question I could not answer: “If this machine is meant for war, how can you fight a navy with it?”

I suppose this will be a larger problem when the revolution hatches from England and threatens the mainland. For now, I must keep focused on this single-minded task. If we make it that far, I will find an answer.

…Perhaps I am naïve and misguided.

Wednesday, May 12, 1880—

The entire community has decided to roll their porcine asses to the south of France for holiday. Such a shame I contracted a bit of a cough and elected to stay here to recover. The travel would have been much too hard on my delicate frame.

Two weeks of uninterrupted work begins tonight.

Friday, May 14, 1880—

For. Fuck’s. Sake.

Her Highness fainted at the pier moments before they were to board a ferry across the Channel. Feared she had come down with the same pestilence I had contracted. Now the entire extended Boroughshire rabble is returning posthaste.

The quiet? Gone. Their need for attention? Only I can sate it. My Engine? Still incomplete, and will be for some time.

If I drown myself in enough whiskey, the mystery of my death should keep their tiny minds occupied for at least a week.

I intend to refill my lamps and work as long as I can tonight. May their arrival home tomorrow wake me at noon for all I care.

Saturday, May 15, 1880—

I was awoken at nine in the morning. Forty minutes of unrestful rest.

Tuesday, May 17 18, 1880—

Knocked the fucking lamp looking for my pen. Lucky I didn’t burn this entire estate to ash.

…Perhaps unlucky.

He even haunts my dreams, touching my Engine and reducing it to rust at the moment that should have been my victory. What Hell of idiocy have I gotten myself into? Fucking aristocrats standing in the way of their own downfall by sheer incompetence. Back to sleep with me.

Tuesday, May 18, 1880 (again)—

I’ve read a number of fascinating papers that I received in the mail today. While I admit I know little of the burgeoning field of electrical engineering, the work being done in the States is fascinating. I intend to take a short trip into London to seek more research (And get a right stein of beer; this house and its occupants are worthless.)

Friday, May 21, 1880 (London)—

I have been granted access to ~~Royal~~ archives. Despite my distaste for locking knowledge away from the public, I am nonetheless grateful for this opportunity. All the kingdom’s brightest minds (what few there are) have recorded years of research on every possible thread of science.

Galvanic principles are fascinating to me. To think, all these thousands of years, we have had electricity inside us! Thoughts percolate, but I do not yet know to what end.

I shall return to the cursed Golden Land in the countryside tomorrow. Between my notes and a few papers, I have been allowed to abscond with, I am reinvigorated with hope for my work.

Saturday, May 22, 1880—

I should extricate and boil every last one of their tongues!

The entire community’s patriarchs were waiting in the living room of Hope’s Paradise (Clearly not my hope.) Word got out of my project, and every cock-waggling primitive decided that this was a matter that required ending their holiday early. While their offspring splash in the Mediterranean, their sagging eyes are now fixed on that fucking garage.

I don’t know who is merely curious, who else feels inadequate enough to lie about their scientific credentials, or who wants to break my Engine merely because I’m a woman. Too many men in my workshop. Had I less restraint, an axe may have been all I needed to solve this annoyance.

Hopefully the dullards bore sooner than later. I may need to beat Mr. Duncannon with a German dictionary regardless.

Tuesday, June 8, 1880—

Between the constant need to shun nosy men from my workshop and the actual work itself, I have not had the constitution to keep my diary.

But today…ah, today! The control platform appears to be totally functional! I have toiled too long to have failure spring from my fingertips. Rotational velocities are stable, cranks and gears are greased and mobile, the Gatling guns are…gatling.

For the first time since I began my work here, I feel like I have accomplished something great. The aristocracy’s days are numbered.

Monday, June 14, 1880—

Work continues to sap my focus. Boiler…not cooperating. I fear I will lose all the work I’ve done on it due to some unforeseen flaw. A redesign at this stage would be costly, but so would continuing with a faulty boiler. Either way, I’m taking tomorrow off from work to clear my head.

Thursday, June 17, 1880—

Time off has proved productive. I finally finished reading the documents on loan from the ~~Royal~~ archives, and there is a fascinating bit of research by a man by the name of Frankenstein. His work on galvanic sciences from earlier this century are far beyond anything I’ve found from English archives in the last decade. This even only seems to be his initial work; perhaps I can track down his true masterpieces of intellect. Maybe I don’t even need to redesign a boiler…

One blight on my day over lunch: that coal-handed bastard child has returned. I think it’s Constance.

Wednesday, Jun 23, 1880—

The Andersons down the way lost one of their bitches last night. She was a beautiful hound, but her memory will live on in my diary. I wanted some hands-on experience with Frankenstein’s work, so I was able to procure the corpse for a small fee (to His Highness who is paying my bills).

Wondrous! Such are the things I learned. A body, made of muscle, controlled by electricity. I suspect I may need to seek out an anatomist or some other scholar of the biological sciences to continue this research.

My mind is alight with so many ideas…

Wednesday, June 30, 1880—

June ends and takes the boiler with it. My Engine shall have a grand new design. Thomas has been placated by promises of surprise. “The most groundbreaking work in thermodynamics!” I lied. His is a mind easily led astray by spectacle.

Sunday, July 4, 1880—

Constable came round today. Mr. Duncannon hasn’t been seen in three days. He left for an important business meeting in Paris, but missed his boat. Coach is missing too. It’s all very curious. I did everything I could to keep that sniveling pig out of my workshop. Given the way his nose recoiled into his skull, it seems the stench of grease and ozone was enough.

In more academic news, I received notice that more of Victor Frankenstein’s research papers are being released from an archive in Switzerland. I should have them by week’s end. My excitement radiates like the sun.

Friday, July 9, 1880—

Wolfgang. Heinrich. Fuchs.

At my forsaken door. With my forsaken research papers.

How the fuck did he find out I was working on galvanism? Who is he still connected to? Which one of my friends betrayed me (besides him)?

He was in this fucking house asking me fucking questions about my fucking work. Fuck him. He better not stick around. After what he took from me…fuck.

Tuesday, July 13, 1880—

Chaos reigns.

Wolfgang has shacked up with the Andersons. He swings by almost daily. When I’m not actually busy, I try to look it.

Constance has gotten her hands into the coal again (I haven’t disposed of it for appearance’s sake.)

The Duncannons are planning a funeral for…whatever his name was. I don’t think I ever bothered to remember anything about him other than when he would finally leave this hellish corner of England.

Thomas has been migrating in and out of Hope’s Paradise. Something about a trade deal in India. It sounds very important for a man who makes riches off the backs of foreigners.

I could use a big stein at a small biergarten.

Sunday, July 18, 1880—

Widow Duncannon speaks! Her first words spoken to me in the months I’ve resided her are accusations that I have something to do with the death of her husband and his driver. Utter nonsense. The police found the driver at the bottom of a pint in a pub last week. The way gossip echoes around these families, however, I won’t be surprised if they begin to turn on me.

My work must accelerate.

Thursday, July 22nd, 1880—

Widow Duncannon, Duchess Byron. Mrs. Boroughshire. All the Andersons. None of them will speak to me. They glare if they see me, so I try to keep to my room and my workshop as much as possible. I’m lucky Her Highness is so subservient to Thomas. This house would be unbearable if she had any willpower over it.

Tuesday, July 27, 1880—

Celebrations are in order! I have poured over work by Golgi, Frankenstein, and Schwann. Every guide I could find on electrical engineering. Trial after trial, failure after failure. And yet…

And yet.

It’s not that I have hope my Engine will work, it’s that I have knowledge that it will. My designs are so clear to me. My protypes are all working as planned. The path to revolution has been laid out before me. Now it is up to me to walk it.

Tomorrow is the beginning of the end.

Wednesday, July 28, 1880—

Coal hands. Inside my workshop. Inside. My. Workshop. And this time, ha! This time, I have a culprit.

I made it very clear to Constance that she will not be loitering in my laboratory anymore.

Saturday, August 7, 1880—

What have I become?

Why did I begin building my Engine? Something about a war? Who can say. Time marchers onward. My Engine will march with time. Every experiment has made it clearer to me that I have stumbled upon the greatest discovery of this era.

No one celebrates with me. Not Thomas. Not Her Highness. Not Constance, nor the boys, Timothy and Franklin. Even Wolfgang is silent (at last).

The neighbors have stopped visiting. I wave when I pass them by, but they just sneer and hurry past. Finally, I can work in peace and silence. Finally my genius can become reality. Finally all of Europe will know what Loreley Weisel is capable of.

I have become the herald of great change, a conduit of the very building blocks of existence.

Tuesday, August 10, 1880—

A toast to the Duke and Duchess! May their patronage live forever in my greatest work! Soon I hope to bring the Andersons into this project as well.

Wednesday, August 18, 1880—

The Engine lives! The support of this community has been invaluable as the final construction has occurred. Everyone has poured their hearts into my work, and it’s truly a masterpiece that could not have been built alone.

My galvanic calibrations have been finalized. My circuits have been tested. It is nearing time for me to put all of myself into my work. I will see success.

Saturday, August 21, 1880—

The loneliness is getting to me. Not even the dogs bark anymore. I talk to my Engine, but its flesh is silent.

Monday, August 23, 1880—

The constable returned. With six policemen. He had questions about His Highness and the Duke and Duchess and Widow Duncannon. I told him the truth: I could help him find them.

I cooperated.

I have a surplus.

Wednesday, August 25, 1880—

Why shouldn’t I? It worked for them. Shouldn’t it work for me? All the principles are the same. They’re muscle. I’m muscle. They’re electric. I’m electric. Why shouldn’t I be in control?

Thursday, August 26, 1880—

Wolfgang, that bastard! He said he knew everything that I had been up to. That is outrageous! He knows nothing!

I have destroyed my room in rage. Fucking Fuchs! What does he think he knows? Who has he told? I should have killed him. Why didn’t I kill him? He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve my creation. He covets it. He wants it for himself. I know it. He got me kicked out of university, he got me run out of Germany. He is jealous. Jealous! He knows I’m better. He knows I’m smarter. He wants what I have, my Engine, my child. He can’t have it. He can’t. He won’t. Where did he go? Fucking Wolfgang I will fucking kill him. He knows nothing. He’s bluffing. He just wants my success. My genius. He is nothing. He will be nothing. Nothing. Nothing. He nothing. Nothing. nothing nothing nothing noth

Sunday, August 29, 1880—

This will be the final entry to my diary. The morning air is heavy with the musk of summer. It’s strange to me how calm I am given what I am about to do.

My Engine has come so far from its days as a sketch on a piece of parchment. Veins of red pulse behind the metal. Sinew, steel, and lightning working in harmony. Every stitch and every suture as perfect as the one before it. So many died for its creation, and so many more will die when I am finished today.

I expected my hand to shake more as I inked the incision lines across my skin. I expected my mind to be foggier as I tried to remember every nerve that would need work. Even the pain I am about to endure has not shaken my resolve.

I am uncertain what the scientific community will think of my work. Of the sacrifices I made. But I have proven a radical truth: All the money in the world does not stop one from being built from the same parts as another. And that’s all we are: Animals with organs and muscles and electricity surging through us. If machines can harness that energy, why can’t we? If new machines can be invented, why not new humans?

All I can hope for now is that my composure holds through the entire procedure. Once I am integrated into my Engine, I will command a mind and body unseen by man. Unparalleled by any of God’s creation. Magnificent in its genius. My genius.

Today I will change humanity forever.

#loreley writes horror #body horror #surgery #The Gateshead Engine

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rhoewrites · 4 years

Text

Birthday Letter for him + short story

I’m dumping everything here, it’s also a peek inside my head after all.

https://open.spotify.com/track/3xaugmCyXrVkrDTXbFkMW3

It’s the 24th of April, 12:04 am, she sat in her bed, with her laptop in front of her. She’s feeling a bit down but she wanted to do it, she wanted to give him something, at least a small surprise, for his birthday. Saddened by the reality that this is going to be his first birthday and she won’t able to give him something grand, she thought this could make up for it, hopefully. She pursed her lip, then smiled as she thought of the day they met.

Do you remember the first time we met? Probably not, but I still do. I was just there, standing, then Jake and you started talking. Man, I just looked at you maybe once or twice, but the image of you got engraved in my mind. Up to this day, I still have a huge crush on you.

She chuckled to herself, realizing how silly that sounded. Joji’s Sanctuary came on, memories flashed in her mind for a split second. That song is always going to be nostalgic to her, it just explains her emotions, a lot. She used to just want a person that would make her feel that she’s needed, wants to fall in love again, want to feel loved, in general. Realization hit her, that right now, finally, she found that someone.

Anyways, first, I just want to thank you, for you. You came into my life and gave me another reason to go on every day, you are the reason I look forward to every tomorrow. Thankful for all the emotions you made me feel, from the happiest ones to the saddest ones. If you ever feel like you’re worthless, always remember that you are the reason why someone isn’t giving up on life yet, you are someone’s shining light in the pitch-black dark. Remember that you saved someone from misery, you made someone feel like they are worth loving. You make the world feel like it’s less cruel, I’m just really grateful for your existence.

She cupped her cheeks as she reread what she typed, sadness gone, just happiness, just him.

Finally, you’re 18! Happy birthday, Christopher Emmet. The love of my life. It’s sad that we won’t be able to celebrate it this year, but surely on your next birthday, we will. I’m so proud of you, you know? Life can be so unfair most times but you always look for things to be thankful for, you really are a gem, you’re unique, you’re one in a million, and I actually meant that. As long as I’m here, I want to see you grow, and even help you to be your best self. Always remember that I will always be here for you, no matter what happens between us, that’s a promise. I’ll never leave you, I’ll be by your side to support you, lead you, take care of you, guide you, fight you, laugh with you, cry with you, and all that, especially, to love you. I know I’ll never find anyone like you, because you’re special and different like that. Happy birthday to my favorite person in the world. I love you so much, Emmet. I hope you can still enjoy your day this quarantine, I miss you.

She smiled to herself as she typed her heart out on the paragraph. She misses him like that, it’s been two months, life’s depressing, dreadful long days just pass by, she just wants to see him again, feel the warmth of his hugs, hold his hands, eat a nice meal with him, kiss him, and all that.

She sighed, inclining her back against the wall. Looking to her side, she saw pictures of them.

“The things I’d do to get those days back again,” she told herself, sighing.

Putting the laptop aside, she closed her eyes as she imagined the day she’s looking forward to.

Calm, that’s what her fellow students perceived her as she walked pass Daily Picks, she can fool other people all she can but she can never deceive herself.

Outside, she’s composed, but inside, she can’t contain herself. She feels like her heart is going to jump out of her ribcage, sounds exaggerated but that’s what she’s really feeling inside.

She’s just so nervous, yet so excited, to see him once again.

Once she took the turn from Sugnaan, she looked up and tried to look for him at the said meeting place. There was a lot of students gathered around but she still found him in an instant.

There he is, standing near the stairs to 7/11. Hands on the pockets of his worn-out jeans, wearing the sweatshirt she gave him, earphones in, bobbing his head to whatever he’s listening to. His hair tied in a low ponytail, a few strands covering a portion of his face.

She stopped in her tracks, just looking at him and waiting for him to look at her.

“Look at me,” she whispered to herself, “look at me, Emmet.”

He finally glanced to her direction; his lips formed into a smile.

She missed him. She did, so much.

She didn’t even realize that she was already sprinting, running to him.

“Rhoe,” he called out as she draws near.

“Emmet!” She basically cried out, finally reaching him and first thing she did was hug him.

“I missed you.” She mumbled, with her face buried in his chest.

He immediately hugged her back, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I missed you too, love.” He replied. He planted a kiss on her forehead.

This is the only thing she wanted in those melancholic months, the medicine to the heavy feelings in her chest, the only person to keep her sane.

His hugs, his love, Him.

She pulled back from the hug and looked at him eye to eye and grinned like an excited kid on Christmas day, he did the same then they broke into laughter.

“Can I get a hug again? I really missed you.” She pouted.

“You can get all the hugs you want today, tomorrow, and for the next days.” He told her, kissing her forehead again and pulling her into a hug. She sighed in relief, hugging him back.

“As long as I am here, you can get hugs and kisses any time you want.”

She was just home for the past few months but at that moment felt like she was finally home.

For he is her favorite place, her safe space.

He is her home. He is her sanctuary.

#short story #one shot #joji #sanctuary #love #head scenarios #birthday letter #rhoewrites #person safe space #safe space #inlove #love letter

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hoard-smelter · 5 years

Text

I just realized something infuriatingly insidious: we really did play ourselves back into paid-only story content. I mean, the timeline looks like this:

Return to Ravnica and Theros blocks: paid novellas, ebook only. Sales are absolutely abysmal, WotC starts looking at new ways to spread content.

Khans of Tarkir: first online stories, launch of the Magic Story page.

Magic Origins: canon backstories for 5 main characters! Interest in and comprehension of lore is waaaay up!

Zendikar - Ixalan: what i’m gonna call the Golden Age of Magic Story. Consistent characterization, interesting plot-lines, new episodes every Wednesday during a set. The release schedule made sense.

some complaints that the set plotline was spoiled due to the addition of ‘story spotlight’ cards, but these never bothered me. I’m always more interested to see how a story reaches and deals with the emotional payoff than actual spoiler-y events.

Dominaria: we did NOT start off strong--Nissa leaves for basically no reason in the first episode, everyone else’s characterization is watered down by an unfamiliar author. Listen, I love Martha Wells! Muderbot is amazing! But she clearly did not understand the Gatewatch characters.

I could go on, but this is a big picture list. Give me a second.

The main point is: WoTC switched to a single big-name author doing the entire set’s worth of stories. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move.

I understand! that Alison Luhrs was dying of overload! but also!!!

For now, we were still published for free on a weekly basis. But we should have known that that was bound to change, especially with what happened next.

Because the next set that comes out is Ravnica! This is where the shit hits the fan, folx!

(I want to mention that in between these two sets we get: Children of the Nameless, which was excellent. Vivien Reid’s story on Ixalan, which was excellent. AND we got the story from Core 2019, which was really incredible. 2 of these were from Big Name Authors, but they were free to read.)

First: we knew the novel was coming. the Guilds of Ravnica set came out in Sept. 2018, and the novel wasn’t due to be published until the end of April. In the meantime, we would still get weekly Magic Story online for free.

Going in, I expected this to be...the Gatewatch figuring out what the fuck was going on on Ravnica. Subterfuge! Spy shit! Laying low with Lavnia!

I did NOT EXPECT TO BE RUN AROUND BY PLANEBOUND NOBODIES FOR 8 WHOLE MONTHS, WIZARDS!!!

I still haven’t read most of the stories for EITHER of those sets. I DON’T CARE ABOUT CHARACTERS WHO ONLY APPEAR FOR ABOUT 5K WORDS.

It’s the EXACT same problem I had with Magic story before Tarkir. but more on that later.

Here’s the kicker. Here’s where we really played ourselves. Because we’d had paid-only magic content before. I payed for magic story content before, and it SUCKED. For all the same reasons WotC THEMSELVES have listed: comprehension and interest goes down, player engagement goes down. Ultimately, as a hardcore Vorthos, I play less magic when I’m less invested in the story.

I played in 5 Ixalan pre-releases. I played in 2 Guilds pre-releases and ONE Allegiance pre-release. I wasn’t interested in the story they’d been showing us.

But like fools, we all lined up to buy the novel. “It’ll be good,” we said. “It’ll be so much more in-depth than the weekly stories could be.” “Buying this shows WotC that hardcore Vorthoses are out there and are worth appealing to as a market demographic!”

and it. worked. NYT Best-seller! Big Name Greg Weisman writes M:tG!

I don’t have any sales data, but I sure did pay 27 whole dollars for my copy.

Now. The War of the Spark story has been screwed from the get-go, not in the least due to the prequel stories that are STILL BEING PUBLISHED. They’re GREAT stories! They really explain what’s going on! Story Spotlight cards that NEVER MADE SENSE are finally PUT INTO CONTEXT.

HEY, YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN GREAT? PUBLISHING THESE STORIES AT THE SAME TIME AS THE ACTUAL CARDS DEPICTING THEM!!!

Wow. Imagine if we’d understood the context for Assassin’s Trophy at literally any point in the last YEAR

And here’s the thing. Here’s the thing. We knew that if the novel did well Wizards would make more of them. What I, at least personally, did NOT suspect, was that they would go BACK to a FAILED MODEL of paid-only content, presuming that the addition of Familiar Names would be sure to draw more money than Doug Beyer continuing his life’s work of creating like half of all Magic Story content ever.

It doesn’t matter that the novel was good. (personally, I put it at a 8/10) What WotC took away from that was ‘we can make more money than we were.’

I’m just. I’m so tired. Rotation is coming and guys. I don’t even know if I’ll still be playing after it hits. Am I interested in Throne of Eladrine? Vaguely. But I’m not buying the companion novel to War (I’ll get it from the library) and I’m probably not going to by the “Wildered Quest” either.

All I can think about is how excited I was during the Zendikar and Innistrad stories. I still re-read Homesick when I get sad! It was my first foray into putting M:tG fic on the internet! This blog got started! And then I compare it to how I feel about Magic Story now....

#magic the gathering #mtg #very long rant incoming

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ravenclawbaz · 6 years

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snowbaz prom

My contribution to @bookerella‘s snowbaz prom thingy! Sorry if this is kinda rough I whipped it out at like 10 last night and stayed up till 11:30 editing (thank u @mychemicalfrank for helping w/ that i love u) but here’s the finished thing?? whatever it is? I’m not so sure word count: 2075 | warnings: blood & fighting but it doesn’t end sad don’t worry

Baz

As I walk across the lawn to the dining hall, I think about how much I hate the Mage. It’s a shame that he became the headmaster. My mother would be so disappointed in what Watford has come to.

A few weeks ago, the Mage had gathered all the 6th, 7th, and 8th year students in the Courtyard to inform us about a new dance that would be taking place at the end of April. Now that time has come, and I am being forced to go to prom.

It’s a thing in America, I know that, but the fact that the Mage has decided to spread this bullshit to Watford is utterly annoying. He said something about adopting other countries’ customs to broaden our knowledge of the world. Absolute bullshit. Like going to a dance is going to help us become better at magic.

But I’m going anyway. I wasn’t actually forced to go, it’s optional. How could I pass up a chance to annoy Simon and Agatha though? They’re going together, of course, and this will be the perfect chance for me to bother them.

I push open the double doors and am instantly ambushed by the loud music playing from several speakers and the chatter of students.

I seek out Dev and Niall and spot them standing on the other side of the room, seemingly waiting for me to get there before they move onto the dance floor. Good men. They nod when they see me coming toward them and I nod back.

I’m keeping an eye out for Snow, making sure that I don’t miss him. He left a while before me and I must admit, that boy looks beautiful in a suit. I wasn’t expecting him to wear one, but he came out of the bathroom wearing a nicely fitting grey one. My body wasn’t ready. I actually had to leave the room and recover. Making me share a room with Simon bloody Snow must be the universe’s way of punishing me for being a vampire.

And maybe for having a crush on Snow, who would never feel the same way toward me. Either works.

I finally see them. Snow, Wellbelove, and Bunce are standing near the punch bowl. Agatha is wearing a knee length light pink dress. The top of it looks to be lace and I think that maybe if I were straight, I might not mind being with her. She really is stunning.

Bunce leans into Simon, laughing and holding his shoulder for support. Her dress is purple -- a lovely contrast to her dark skin -- and there’s a pattern on it, though I can’t make it out from where I’m standing across the room.

It doesn’t take Snow long to notice me. I’m not entirely convinced that he doesn’t have a built-in radar that dings every time I’m near. He looks up sharply and locks eyes with me. He glares at me for a few seconds, before whispering to Bunce, taking Wellbelove by the hand, and walking with her into the crowd of dancing students.

I wait a few minutes, then say my goodbyes to Dev and Niall, and follow Simon into the mess of bodies. He’s dancing with Agatha near the edge of the group and he looks like an absolute fool. It’s obvious that he’s never danced in his life.

There’s a girl standing next to me, looking at me. I recognize her from a few months ago, her name is Lily and I think she may be a 6th year. She gave me a Valentine back in February, and although I ignored her, I could use this to my advantage. When I make eye contact with her, she dances over to where I am and continues to dance in front of me. I hate this, but if I want to get on Snow’s nerves, acting straight is what must be done.

The pop song that’s been playing ends, and a slow song comes on. Great. Lily wastes no time in flinging her arms over my shoulders, linking her hands behind my neck. I place my hands on her waist and slowly start to move us closer to where Snow and Wellbelove are dancing.

Snow scowls at me, holding Agatha tighter like he thinks I’m going to just take her. He isn’t that far off from my ultimate goal.

We keep dancing like that; Simon glaring at me from over Agatha’s shoulder, and me returning his look with a smug one, raising my eyebrow like I know he hates.

This has all been fun and games so far, but I think I may go too far when Agatha turns over her shoulder to see what Simon is staring at, and she sees me. I give her one of my most charming smiles and she blushes and tries to hide the smile on her lips. This must be the snapping point for Snow, who sees the whole interaction, because the smell of smoke that erupts is almost unbearable.

The students around us either move away quickly, afraid that he is going to go off, or draw closer to him, attracted to the scent of the magic. Normally, making Snow go off would be an accomplishment of mine. But not when we’re in a room full of people, and I think he may actually go off.

Mostly everyone has stopped dancing, and I see Agatha throw Simon a dirty glare. She grabs his arm and pulls him out of the dining hall into the corridor.

Being the nosy fuck I am, I follow Snow and Wellbelove to the corridor. I cast a spell so I can stay hidden, but still hear what they’re saying.

“Why do you have to get so worked up over everything Baz does?” She says. Her voice is hushed and she’s talking fast, like she’s afraid someone will overhear them.

“Do you not see what he does! He’s trying to steal you from me!” Well that’s never a good thing to say.

“You don’t own me, Simon!” Her voice is getting louder. I can’t see them, but I can imagine that Agatha is all up in Simon’s face, probably pointing an accusing finger at his chest.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Aggy. It’s just, I know he’s doing it to annoy me.” Snow hesitates for a second, then continues, “You know how hard I try to not let it get to me! Don’t you understand that?”

“I’m not sure I do understand it. Sometimes I think you pay more attention to him than you do me.” I know it’s terrible, but I smile a bit at that. “Simon, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Their voices are quieter, and when Simon speaks, my heart feels like it’s shattering into a million pieces. “Aggy, wait. No.” He sounds so… broken. I never want to hear him sound like that again.

I take a chance and peer around the corner. Simon is standing right outside an alcove, gripping Agatha’s arm like his life depends on it. She looks like she’s turned to walk away, but can’t now that he’s holding her.

I watch as she yanks her arm out of his grip and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Si. ”With that, she’s walking toward me, back to the dance, and I quickly hide behind the pillar outside the door.

Once she’s inside, I walk back out into the hallway. My body is screaming at me to stop. To just turn around and leave. But I see Simon slump against the wall, running his hands through his curls and pulling hard, and I can’t just leave him there. Though I’m not sure how much my presence is going to help him right now.

I hesitantly walk over to wear he’s leaning against the window and stand across from him. My hands are in my pockets and I know that he sees me, but I just stand there awkwardly until he addresses me.

“What the fuck do you want.” I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard him this angry. The air is still filled with smoke, thicker than before, and his voice is full of venom.

I don’t really know what to say, but I do know that I need to apologize. It’s very un-Baz like of me. “I’m sorry, Snow. I really didn’t intend for that to happen.”

“Like hell you didn’t!” He takes his hands out of his hair and throws them above his head wildly. I should’ve expected him to react like this. Maybe I should’ve waited until he cooled down to confront him.

I make to walk away, back into the dining hall and away from angry Simon, but he grabs my shoulder roughly and spins me back around. My hands are still stuffed in my pockets when he shoves me up against the wall behind me, and my head bangs against the stone with nothing to brace myself with.

He’s basically fuming with rage, and I’m terrified. There’s no doubt that he could kill me without hesitation right now. I’ve always thought I was ready to die at Snow’s hands, but I’m not so sure that’s true.

I carefully draw my hands out of my pockets and bring them up, palms out, in front of my chest.

“Snow, please just calm down. Let me go.” I try to keep my voice calm.

He just furrows his eyebrows and pushes me harder against the wall, his fists balled up in the front of my shirt. “No, Baz! You’ve gone too far this time.” His face is so close to mine and he’s yelling right in my face.

I try to leave, to pull myself out of his grip. That doesn’t work. Before I have time to react, he’s let go of my shirt with his right hand, holding tighter with his left to keep me in place. He pulls his right arm back and swings it at my face full-force. I hear a crack and I think I may have cried out, but my ears are ringing and my vision is starting to blur too much for me to care.

I crouch down, steadying myself against the wall with the hand that’s not holding my nose. There’s blood dripping down my chin, falling onto the floor and getting all over my clothes.

The initial shock of the hit is starting to go away, and I can see Simon kneeling on the ground in front of me. He looks worried and he’s pulling the pocket square out of his suit jacket, grabbing the back of my head and holding the piece of cloth over my nose with the other.

It stings when he touches it, and it just makes me mad. I can’t exactly hit him back in this state, so I do the next best thing I can. I grab his tie and pull him in, hard, ignoring the pain that ignites in my nose when it hits his cheek.

It’s not exactly how I imagined kissing Simon Snow would go. There’s blood everywhere and I’m pushing into him. It makes me even angrier that he isn’t being rough back, he’s just holding the back of my head in his hand and pushing me away gently, not even kissing back.

He succeeds in pushing me off of him, and I let my head fall back against the wall, not caring how hard I hit it.

I think he’s just going to leave me here, bleeding out onto the floor and probably crying. Instead, he places his hands under my armpits and lifts me up, turning to stand beside me so he can wrap his arm tightly around my waist. My arm is draped over his shoulder, hanging by his armpit, and he’s holding it to keep me upright.

“Come on Baz, let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispers, and starts walking us in the direction of the nurse’s office. My vision is still a little blurry and fuck, that hurt. If he broke my nose again I’m going to be immensely pissed off. It’s already crooked from the last time.

“I kissed you.” I say dumbly.

“I know you did, and we’ll talk about that later. But right now we gotta get your nose fixed.” We walk the rest of the way to the nurse’s office in silence.

Simon

I’m not so sure that I’m straight.

#snowbazprom2k18 #snowbazprom #my fanfic #carry on #carry on fanfiction #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch

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mbalenhles-blog · 6 years

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SOFIA MBALENHLE KREUTZWALD, princess of estonia.

“ there are all these moments you think you won’t survive. and then you survive. ”

I. BASICS –––

full name: sofia mbalenhle kreutzwald.

sofia: from the greek, Σοφια, means “wisdom”.

mbalenhle: from zulu, imbali, for “flower”, and hle, for “beautiful”.

date of birth: october 12th, 1814.

age: thirty-one.

city of birth: tallinn. she always loved her home, or perhaps it has always been thanks to her parents, who she loved and learned a lot from.

country of birth: estonia.

position: princess of estonia, duchess of glücksbierg (in denmark).

marital status: widow.

sexuality: demisexual.

gender identity: cisgender female.

religion: catholic. a believer, but rarely a praticant.

II. RELATIONSHIPS –––

number of siblings: five.

order of birth: first born, the oldest.

father: taveet kreutzwald, late king of estonia. relationship: her best friend — sofia isn’t afraid to admit that was her father to her. the man who had taught her so much and made her who she is, gave her glimpses of what was like to rule a kingdom even if he knew she wasn’t the one meant to take the crown. although the man would say he had no favorite child, anyone could see how he was closer to his two oldest: they were the ones to spend more time with him, watch him work and dare to make suggestions, help in his choices. he is, even in death, sofia’s safe haven.

mother: zola kreutzwald, late queen of estonia, former princess of swaziland. relationship: although closer to her father, she would never say she didn’t love or wasn’t fond of her mother — zola was just as inspiring as her husband for little sofia. she was the one who made her grow fond of reading and drawing, to have a brain of her own; she taught her how to be graceful and held her whenever she cried — especially in the day of her marriage and the last time she saw both her parents. she misses her dearly, and keeps a necklace that was owned by the woman with her at all times.

relationship with siblings: being the oldest has turned her into one of the most responsible ones among them. although with her head in the clouds and nose stuck in a book through most of her youth, she has shown to be one of the siblings that sees reality differently, with kind eyes and a good moral compass. the relationship to each sibling needs to be determined as applied.

former partner: gerhard thorn, duke of glücksbierg. marriage: april 1839 to december 1844. relationship: ( SEXUAL ABUSE TW! ) their marriage was a proposition that came from the duke himself in one of his trips to estonia — back then, the king had thought this would be a good idea, as if the story repeats itself: it was travelling that he met his wife, fallen for her beauty and intelligence, and he had thought this was gerhard’s case towards sofia. he was wrong. the duke was a narcissist, a careless man who barely cared for anything but benefiting himself — it is true he has “fallen” for the princess’ beauty, but she was far too smart for him, she wasn’t impressed by his looks or by him at all, different from the many women he had been with until then. she was a challenge, a prey that he would get and feel glad to have in his hands, wanting her or not — those harder to get were the best, after all. she has never complained ( much ) about the man to her father before the marriage, but he was no fool and had seem how scared and disgusted she looked after every meeting with the man — he had suggested to call it out, but at the age of twenty-five, she judged herself old. it was out of luck a man felt interested in her, even if it was only for her physical, in her opinion — she should continue with that, for the benefits of their own small kingdom. a child came out of their union, forceful, with marks that would take a while to fade from her golden skin — she thought it would be a challenge to love her son, that memories from the nights that haunted her mind would come across every time she looked at him: and it was, at first. for the first months, sofia wouldn’t want to see the baby and felt disgusted of herself, but it was in a moment she was alone with the baby and she saw her own curious eyes on him that she fell in love: hendrik, she had decided, would be the only thing that mattered to her. her marriage, unhappy and abusive, remained for the following years and some would be the times her husband would manage to get to her room and she would accept have him there, just for the sake of it — but he had his mistress, who were much better than her ( luckily ), and with the time he would grow tired of her company in bed, although never once letting go of the idea to expose her as his trophy wife. his death came suddenly, but with a lot of relief to sofia — more than she should’ve let it show, which brings questions to anyone who has known either her or gerhard, or both, doubts of his death, so sudden and not of plague, looking very much like an ordered murder.

children:

hendrik sipho thorn, born in february 15th, 1840 (six year old). his hair and big curious eyes give him away as sofia’s son — but he is far from looking like her, with his skin being lighter and some small features showing some of his father’s. hendrik is a smart danish boy — he has been learning more languages since he learned how to talk, always taught by his mother; he doesn’t have as much accent as she does when speaking other languages, being a fast learner, catching things just by hearing them. he’s agitated, always needing to be moving and going somewhere; and one of his passions seems to be animals, probably something that could be blamed on sofia and her choices of reading to him.

III. PHYSICAL –––

height: 162cm, 5ft 4in

weight: 54kg, 119lbs

eye color: brown.

hair color: brown.

natural hair texture: curly, thin.

body build: slim, slightly curvy.

prominent features: a mole next to her upper lip, on the right side; a scar on her left ankle ( thanks to childish plays and running around, tripping and twisting said ankle in a small rock ).

accent: she sounds most fluent in estonian and danish, being the languages she has practice more during her whole life, with the kind of alliances her father had. but in english and french, which are the languages she tries to keep up nowadays, she has an obvious accent, but still easy to understand. she is fond of learning languages, so her practice usually go until she doesn’t sound as much of a foreigner as she is.

speech: even insecure, sofia is one to speak with the most certain kind of tone, very rare to stutter, and usually sounding like someone who knows better. for some, she may sound as a mother or a scholar, which would be compliments to her. her vocabulary is quite extensive in any of the languages she speaks and that’s noticeable just by talking to her a few times.

general health: in good health and trying to keep herself this way, she has been rarely engaging in anything that might get her sick or hurt. she only puts herself on this sort of priority for worrying for her child — if she gets sick, chances of him getting too would be considerable.

IV. PERSONALITY –––

habits: tapping her fingers on any surface, being too observant, acting as a “mom friend”, chewing the inside of her cheek when nervous, rubbing her arm.

hobbies: reading, collecting books, drawing, learning, tasting different cuisines, taking walks in the garden, being alone, writing.

morning routine: she usually wakes up very early, able to see the first rays of sunshine to appear in the sky; most of the times, she likes to take her time waking up her son so they can have breakfast together. it isn’t unusual to see her walking around the gardens either, as she judges the morning sun to be the best and most enjoyable, along with its breeze.

nightly routine: to read and kiss her son goodnight is probably the only thing that happens every single night. sofia deals with the darkness of the night in different ways, most of them being by lighting a candle and reading a book on her own, or writing something — when she feels too lonely, she reads her father’s old letters and see old sketches in her journals. sometimes, she would dare to leave her quarters, take a walk to spare her thoughts and to go to the library, either to get other books or to watch the night sky through its windows ( a better view than the one she has from her own room ).

skills: drawing, she’s good at sketches, but is far too insecure about it to even show many people; is a fast learner, people don’t need to explain anything twice before she is already knowing how to do things.

V. SIGNATURES –––

theme song: “saturn”, sleeping at last.

strengths: intelligence, optimism, responsibility.

weaknesses: stubbornness, prejudice, impatience.

what would be in their trunk?: books, an old journal she likes to write or sketch sometimes, hendrik’s blanket, her father’s letters.

character’s inspirations: tessa gray ( the infernal devices, by cassandra clare ), belle ( beauty and the beast, the tale by madame de beaumont, and the animation movie, adapted by linda woolverton ).

#❛ ♛ ━ MEN MAY BE STRONGER BUT IT IS WOMEN WHO ENDURE.#palais.task #palais.task1 #palais.task2 #abuse tw #took me Three Thousand Years but at least i did bOTH tasks YAY ME??

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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Are Republicans Cutting Social Security And Medicare

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/are-republicans-cutting-social-security-and-medicare/

Are Republicans Cutting Social Security And Medicare

His Tax Cut Isnt Helping The Economy But It Did Blow A Hole In The Budget That Hed Fill By Gutting Entitlement Programs

Health-care activists rally in front of the Capitol in March 2017 to highlight the changes then being sought in Medicaid in the Republican American Health Care Act.

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Later this evening, Donald Trump delivers his third State of the Union address. If past speeches are any indicator, we know tonight’s speech will be filled with a number of exaggerations and outright falsehoods — especially when it comes to the economy.

Since he signed the bill two years ago, Trump has heralded the 2017 Tax Cuts and Jobs Act as this administration’s greatest accomplishment, declaring that

But this couldn’t be further from the truth. While the law gave giant tax breaks to the wealthy and big corporations, the rest of us were left with crumbs — at best. The wage growth that Trump promised hasn’t materialized, and 100 million Americans are going to be left paying higher taxes.

Another opinion:Trump should offer a new deal for the middle class in his State of the Union speech

Now, Trump is using his tax cuts, which he promised would be a boon to the economy, as an excuse to threaten cuts to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid — programs Americans have been paying into with every paycheck, and programs the federal government is required, by law, to offer to every single eligible person.

Turns out everyone’s predictions were right: Republicans are targeting Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security. No surprise there.

Column: Mitch Mcconnell Says It Out Loud: Republicans Are Gunning For Social Security Medicare And Obamacare Next

Michael Hiltzik

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All Washington seems to be buzzing this week over a single question: Is Sen. Mitch McConnell deliberately trying to throw the election to the Democrats?

At the root of the debate are interviews the Senate majority leader gave to Bloombergand Reuters on Tuesday and Wednesday. McConnell identified “entitlements” — that’s Washington code for Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid — as “the real drivers of the debt” and called for them to be adjusted “to the demographics of the future.”

Translation: He wants to cut benefits.

In terms of Republican orthodoxy, McConnell’s remarks are nothing new. Sen. Marco Rubio and House Speaker Paul Ryan each made exactly the same point last November and December. McConnell himself has made the point before, including during a speech in his home state in 2013.

McConnell’s position on the social insurance programs fits in with Republican policy on the Affordable Care Act; as it happens, the majority leader also telegraphed a plan to try again to repeal the ACA after the midterm elections. That’s despite indications that the ACA is becoming more popular with the public, not less, and voters’ concerns about preserving its protections for those with preexisting conditions may be driving them to the polls — and not to vote Republican.

It’s true that Democrats are using these comments against the Republicans, but one can hardly deny that the Republicans handed them the ammunition.

Republican Senators Push Social Security Medicare And Medicaid Cuts After Supporting Ineffective Tax Cuts

Republicans Target Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid

getty

The economy is recovering from the depths of the pandemic in large part due to the massive relief packages that Congress passed in 2020 and 2021. Just in time for this recovery, Senate Republicans are pushing for cuts to vital programs. According to news reports, five GOP senators are proposing a commission that would come up with proposals to balance the federal budget within a decade. Given that four of the five sponsors of this idea have signed on to the tax pledge to never, ever under any circumstances raise taxes, they are looking for programs to cut. They consequently take aim mainly at cuts to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.

These targeted programs are already and will continue to prove crucial to the financial and physical health of millions of Americans that have suffered from the pandemic. Many workers, especially older ones, have lost their jobs permanently and will move into early retirement with permanently lower benefits and little or no savings outside of those benefits. Millions of Americans, again particularly among older ones, experience long-term consequences from COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel virus. Those hardest hit by pandemic will need strong, expanded retirement and health benefits, not cuts to an already basic system.

Fact Check: ‘record’ Job Gains Still Leave The Us Labor Market In Worse Shape Than Great Recession

On the last night of his party’s convention, President Trump bragged about “record” job gains in recent months, but the 9.1 million jobs he touts come with some qualifiers.

“Over the past three months, we have gained over nine million jobs, and that’s a record in the history of our country,” Trump said Thursday.

The recent job gains are still less than half the number of jobs the economy shed in March and April at the height of pandemic-ordered lockdowns. From March through July, the economy lost a net 12.9 million jobs, the most in American history.

The nearly 2 million jobs added in July also represent a sharp slowdown from the almost 5 million jobs added in June.

And several major groups of workers are at greater risk of falling behind. Black unemployment, at 14.6 percent in July, registered less than a percentage point of improvement. Among Hispanics, the rate of unemployment also remained elevated at nearly 13 percent, compared to just nearly 9 percent for white workers.

Declaring victory is premature, especially as COVID-19 continues to inflict staggering damage to the economy, said Mark Zandi, chief economist at Moody’s Analytics.

“It still has a long way to go, and risks falling back in as the pandemic continues to rage and causes more layoffs and curtails hiring,” he said.

Filling Public Trustee Jobs For Medicare And Social Security Is A Step To Shoring Up The Programs

The trust funds that support Social Security and Medicare are expected to run out of money. Policy experts argue Congress needs to act quickly to avoid benefit cuts.

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Political parties don’t seem to agree on much these days, but at least 100 members split among Democrats and Republicans do share one common belief — Social Security is in dire need of help — and they want Congress to do something about it.

The trust funds that support Social Security’s activities are expected to run out of money by 2035, and if that were to happen, beneficiaries would receive about 80% of what they’re owed. Medicare is in even more imminent danger — the Medicare Hospital Insurance fund, which supports inpatient care, is expected to be exhausted in 2026.

The Bipartisan Policy Center and the National Academy of Social Insurance released a letter this month, with 100 signatures from both political parties, addressing this issue, and one way to go about fixing it.

In the letter, Republicans and Democrats call on Congress to act on pending nominations for the public trustee roles for the boards of Social Security and Medicare, which have been vacant since 2015. These roles are supposed to be filled by two people, one Democrat and one Republican, who will work with the boards of Social Security and Medicare to provide guidance for these programs from an independent, nongovernmental perspective.

See: This word describes Social Security — but not everyone agrees

Will Republicans Cut Social Security And Medicare For Poor And Elderly To Pay For Their Tax Plan

U.S.RepublicansSocial SecurityMedicareDonald Trump

Senate Democrats are warning constituents that the newly passed Republican tax overhaul could lead to significant cuts to Social Security, Medicare and other entitlement programs.

President Donald Trump said last week that entitlement cuts will, “take place right after taxes, very soon, very shortly after taxes” despite promising on the campaign trail that he would not touch entitlement programs. “I’m not going to cut Social Security like every other Republican, and I’m not going to cut Medicare or Medicaid,” he said as a candidate.

Key Democrats are already campaigning against the potential cuts. ” dream has been to undo those programs, give massive tax breaks to those who don’t need them, and take us back to the 1920s,” said Vermont Senator Bernie Sanders at a rally on Sunday. Democratic Oregon Senator Ron Wyden agrees. “Republicans are already saying ‘entitlement reform’ and ‘welfare reform’ are next up on the docket. But nobody should be fooled—that’s just code for attacks on Medicaid, on Medicare, on Social Security, on anti-hunger programs,” he said.

Social Security and Medicare are both rapidly approaching insolvency—Medicare’s hospital insurance trust fund will be exhausted by 2029, and Social Security’s trust fund will be exhausted by 2034. Reform is necessary, but aiming to decrease fraud or to cut funding will not help the programs stay afloat.

Is Trump Defunding Social Security And Medicare Concerns Mount After President’s Executive Order

U.S.Donald TrumpExecutive OrderSocial SecurityMedicare

President Donald Trump’s Saturday decision to sign an executive order to defer payroll taxes has fueled concerns that he is attempting to defund Social Security and Medicare, with the latest order drawing criticism from conservatives and liberals alike.

“First one is on providing a payroll tax holiday to Americans earning less than $100,000 per year,” the president said during a Saturday press briefing. “In a few moments, I will sign a directive, instructing the Treasury Department to allow employers to defer payment of the employee portion of certain payroll taxes…”

Trump said that he would make the temporary tax deferral permanent if he was re-elected in November. “So I’m going to make them all permanent,” he said.

Notably, this is not a tax cut. Under the wording of the executive order, the payments would simply be deferred until next year unless further actions were taken.

Whether Trump’s executive orders, which also provided an extension of extra federal unemployment benefits at a reduced rate of $400 per month, will withstand legal scrutiny is a matter of debate. His decision came as Republicans and Democrats in Congress remained at an impasse over a new round of coronavirus economic stimulus legislation. Under the Constitution, Congress, not the Executive Branch, is granted power over spending federal funds.

Hillary Clinton: Trump Going After Medicare, Social Security If Re-Elected

Fact Check: Trump Boasts Of Delivering Ppe Early In Pandemic Doesn’t Mention Ongoing Shortages

“We shipped hundreds of millions of masks, gloves and gowns to our frontline health care workers. To protect our nation’s seniors, we rushed supplies, testing kits, and personal — to nursing homes, we gave everything you can possibly give and we’re still giving it because we’re taking care of our senior citizens,” Trump said on Thursday night, talking up his COVID-19 response.

In the early days of the pandemic, the Trump administration did indeed procure millions of supplies, even flying personal protective equipment in from overseas, with much fanfare and often exaggerated numbers.

But Trump fails to mention that the shortages of PPE and critical testing supplies are ongoing.

One in five U.S. nursing homes faced severe shortages of PPE this summer, according to a study released in August. The American Medical Association decried the “persistent shortage” of N95 masks and other protective equipment yesterday.

“It is hard to believe that our nation finds itself dealing with the same shortfalls in PPE witnessed during the first few weeks that SARS-CoV-2 began its unrelenting spread,” the group’s president, Dr. Susan Bailey, said on August 26th. “But that same situation exists today, and in many ways things have only gotten worse.”

Republicans Will Cut Social Security And Medicare After Tax Plan Passes Says Marco Rubio

U.S.SenateTax planRepublicansMedicare

Update | Florida Senator Marco Rubio admits that the Republican tax cut plan, which benefits corporations and the wealthy, will require cuts to Social Security and Medicare to pay for it.

To address the federal deficit, which will grow by at least $1 trillion if the tax plan passes, Congress will need to cut entitlement programs such as Social Security, Rubio told reporters this week. Advocates for the elderly and the poor have warned that entitlement programs would be on the chopping block, but this is the first time a prominent Republican has backed their claims.

Expect all the guests on the Sunday shows to be Republicans explaining how they now have no choice but to slash Social Security & Medicare because the deficit has suddenly and mysteriously gotten much worse.

— Bruce “Snarking and Barking” Bartlett December 1, 2017

“You have got to generate economic growth because growth generates revenue,” Rubio said at a Politico conference. “But you also have to bring spending under control. And not discretionary spending. That isn’t the driver of our debt. The driver of our debt is the structure of Social Security and Medicare for future beneficiaries.”

Rubio’s talk of structural change is vague but will likely include changing the rate and age of Social Security and Medicare payouts.

So where does that money come from?

Column: Keep Social Security And Medicare Reform Out In Daylight Where We Can All Watch

6 Min Read

CHICAGO – Charlie Rich, the late country music singer and songwriter, had it right when he crooned this famous line: “Oh, no one knows what goes on behind closed doors.” We need to remind Congress of the truth of that line as it tries to push a plan to negotiate changes to Social Security and Medicare as part of its latest pandemic relief bill.

Yes, you heard that right – in the midst of a raging pandemic, Senate Republicans are focusing on cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

That is the essence of the ironically named TRUST Act, the brainchild of Senator Mitt Romney, a Utah Republican. The bill is on track to be folded into the GOP relief plan. It would create a behind-closed-doors process for legislators to make changes to the Social Security and Medicare trust funds. Translation: it would allow lawmakers to do something the public clearly does not want – namely, cut benefits.

The TRUST Act calls for the U.S. Department of the Treasury to issue reports within 45 days of its passage on the financial status of the federal trust funds for Social Security, Medicare and federal highways.

That would be followed by closed-door meetings of congressionally appointed bipartisan committees tasked with recommending legislation to restore solvency of the funds by June 1 next year. Finally – and crucially – Congress would be required to give the proposals an up-or-down vote, with no amendments allowed.

Social Security and Medicare do face financial challenges.

Fact Check: Are Republicans Trying To Eliminate Social Security Medicare And Medicaid

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Democratic Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse of Rhode Island claimed that Republicans are seeking to “get rid of Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security.”

Verdict: False

Republican leaders have not called for entitlement programs to be eliminated, although they have said they are looking to reform the programs in the coming years.

Fact Check:

Whitehouse, who was re-elected on Tuesday, made the claim in a campaign ad.

“The Republicans have run enormous deficits up to provide tax cuts to big corporations, millionaires and billionaires,” he said. “Now that we have this deficit problem that we caused with our tax bill, they turn around and they say they got to get rid of Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security.”

While Republican leaders have said that entitlement programs need to be reformed, they have not called for their elimination.

An MSNBC article cited in Whitehouse’s ad mentions Rep. Steve Stivers, chair of the National Republican Congressional Committee, who expressed in August that bipartisan efforts are the only way to sustain entitlement programs.

“The only way we’re going to be able to fix Social Security and Medicare is for the two parties to come together – the way that Ronald Reagan did with Tip O’Neill – and figure out how to fix them together,” he said in an interview with CNBC.

“People are quick to blame deficits on tax cuts but I don’t buy that,” Kudlow said. “Tax cuts promote growth and wages.”

Have a fact check suggestion? Send ideas to .

Fact Check: Trump Hammers Biden On Nafta Support Which He Said Killed Jobs He’s Right

President Trump used part of his speech Thursday night to hammer Joe Biden on his support of “catastrophic” trade deals he said bled U.S. jobs to other countries.

“Biden voted for the NAFTA disaster, the single worst trade deal ever enacted; he supported China’s entry into the World Trade Organization, one of the greatest economic disasters of all time. After those Biden calamities, the United States lost 1 in 4 manufacturing jobs,” Trump said.

This claim is true, although trade was not the only reason that U.S. companies shed these jobs.

They Haven’t Taken A Dime From The Social Security Program That Isn’t Accounted For

Another misconception is that the Republican Party stole money from the Social Security Trust and used it to fund wars. More specifically, Ronald Reagan, George H.W. Bush, and George W. Bush have come under intense scrutiny for borrowing from Social Security and “not putting the money back.”

However, the truth of the matter is that Congress has been able to “borrow” Social Security’s excess cash for five decades, and it’s happened under every single president over that stretch. In fact, the Social Security Administration is required by law to purchase special-issue bonds and certificates of indebtedness with this excess cash. Please note the emphasis on “required by law” that I’ve added above. The federal government isn’t simply going to sit on this excess cash it borrows from Social Security. It’s spending this cash on various line items, which may be wars and the defense budget, as well as education, healthcare, and pretty much any other expenditure you can think of.

This setup is actually a win-win for both parties. The federal government has a relatively liquid source of borrowing with the Social Security Trust, and the Trust is able to generate significant annual income from the interest it earns on its loans. Last year, $85.1 billion of the $996.6 billion that was generated by the program came from interest income.

Opinion:trump Just Gave Away The Republican Game On Social Security And Medicare

Davos went to President Trump’s head. Perhaps it was the rarefied air of the annual World Economic Forum, a place where billionaires congratulate one another on what they see as their unique virtues and smarts. Perhaps it was the ego boost, as Trump basked in acceptance by a high-end business crowd that once held him at arm’s length. But whatever the reason, it caused Trump to make a major mistake.

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Trump gave away the Republican game on Social Security and Medicare.

During an interview with CNBC on Wednesday, Trump was asked, “ entitlements ever be on your plate?” Entitlements are, of course, Washington-speak for Medicare and Social Security. Trump responded, “At some point they will be,” adding, “It’ll be toward the end of the year.” Just in case Trump misunderstood, Joe Kernen followed up, reminding him this was something he had “said you wouldn’t do in the past” and specifically mentioning Medicare. Trump cut him off. “Well, we’re going to look.”

For Democrats, this is what’s generally known as a gimme — one that makes it more important than ever that the Democrats make sure their presidential nominee is someone who can take on Trump over the issue. That person is not former vice president Joe Biden, and that’s true no matter how many commercials he runs proclaiming, “Joe Biden has repeatedly voted to save Social Security.”

Fact Check: Trump Claims Biden Wants To ‘close All Charter Schools’ That’s False

“Biden also vowed to oppose school choice and close all charter schools, ripping away the ladder of opportunity for Black and Hispanic children,” Trump claimed on Tuesday night.

This is false. The Biden campaign does not oppose charter schools, though they’ve advocated against for-profit charter schools and supported different regulations and oversight of the schools.

And while “school choice” is a buzzy word, it can means different things to different people. Trump supports letting students take federal funds to private schools, something Joe Biden and many Democrats oppose, instead supporting allowing families to make choices within publicly-funded school districts.

‘we’ve Brought It Up With President Trump Who Has Talked About It Being A Second

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Republicans on Capitol Hill say Donald Trump may be willing to cut Social Security and Medicare if he wins in 2020, reportedly describing the potential move as a “second-term project”.

Several senators told the New York Times in a report published this week they spoke to the president about reducing the costs of the federal health care and retirement programmes — a move that would likely stir controversy in a presidential election season.

Republicans have said cutting both programmes is crucial to reducing the nation’s deficit, which has ballooned under Mr Trump thanks, in part, to the GOP tax bill passed in 2017.

Senator John Barrasso, a Republican from Wyoming, described the process of cutting the costs of social security and medicare to the New York Times as “best done during divided government”.

“We’ve brought it up with President Trump,” he added, “who has talked about out it being a second-term project.”

Do Republicans In Congress Want To Take Away Social Security Medicare Medicaid

It’s been a time-tested Democratic attack line: Republicans are going to take away your Medicare, or maybe your Social Security. We gave a variant of the line our 2011 Lie of the Year.

Now the talking point has re-emerged, in a , from Oregon’s Ron Wyden, the top Democrat on the Senate Finance Committee:

“#TrumpTax was only the beginning. After giving massive tax giveaways to wealthy & powerful shareholders, Republicans in Congress are plotting to take away Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security.”

? #TrumpTax was only the beginning. After giving massive tax giveaways to wealthy & powerful shareholders, Republicans in Congress are plotting to take away Medicare, Medicaid and Social Security.https://t.co/9YTuAYnOWw

— Ron Wyden March 29, 2018

In reality, the notion that congressional Republicans are scheming to “take away” Medicaid, Medicare or Social Security is inaccurate.

The Democratic news release

The first piece of evidence undercutting the tweet’s message is actually linked in the tweet itself.

An accompanying Senate Democratic press , dated March 27, starts by saying, “It’s only been a few months since Republicans jammed through their to corporate executives and wealthy shareholders. Now they’re planning on paying for it with huge cuts to Medicare, Medicaid, and Social Security, despite President Trump’s promises that he wouldn’t do so.”

These quotes suggest the Republican in charge of the House continues to seek overhauls of the entitlement system.

Featured Fact-check

Meet The New Gop Plan To End Medicare Same As The Old Gop Plan To End Medicare

We here in the Democratic Whip Press shop will give Republicans credit for their transparency. They are not even trying to hide the fact that their “Cut, Cap and End Medicare” bill would end the program’s guarantee.

Republican Study Committee Chairman Jim Jordan said yesterday the plan “basically mirrors the budget proposal that the House passed this year.”

That would be the same Republican budget proposal that ends the Medicare guarantee and more than doubles heath care costs for seniors, all while preserving tax breaks for the wealthy.

And the Republican “Cut, Cap and End Medicare” plan is no different.

But don’t just take our word for it. According to theCenter on Budget and Policy Priorities, the measure:

“…stands out as one of the most ideologically extreme pieces of major budget legislation to come before Congress in years, if not decades.”

“…The legislation would inexorably subject Social Security and Medicare to deep reductions.”

In addition, the extreme and draconian Republican proposal would reverse decades of precedent that exempt cuts to basic services for the most vulnerable among us. More from the CBPP:

“Since the Gramm-Rudman-Hollings law of 1985, all such laws have exempted the core basic assistance programs for the poorest Americans from such across-the-board cuts. “Cut, Cap, and Balance,” by contrast, specifically subjects all such programs to across-the-board cuts if its spending caps would be exceeded.”

Democrats Urged To Reject Latest Gop Attempt To Hold Social Security ‘hostage’

Jake Johnson

Republican Sen. Lindsey Graham on Wednesday said he would be willing to vote to raise the federal debt ceiling in exchange for a policy that could result in cuts to Social Security and Medicare, a proposed trade-off that progressive advocacy groups implored Democrats to reject.

“Fortunately, Democrats can protect Social Security and Medicare by raising the debt ceiling in the forthcoming reconciliation package.”—Alex Lawson, Social Security Works

With members of Congress staring down an August deadline to increase the debt limit—the amount of money the federal government is legally permitted to borrow to meet its financial obligations—Graham toldBloomberg that he could bring himself to vote yes on a debt ceiling hike if Democrats agree to legislation establishing commissions tasked with crafting Social Security and Medicare “reforms.”

But Social Security Works, a progressive advocacy organization, was quick to warn that Graham’s offer is a thinly veiled trap.

“Lindsey Graham and his fellow Republicans will stop at nothing to cut the American people’s earned Social Security and Medicare benefits,” Alex Lawson, executive director of Social Security Works, said in a statement. “Graham has now telegraphed his party’s intention to demand a commission to cut Social Security and Medicare as the price for raising the debt ceiling.”

Democrats Risk Unintended Medicare Cuts If They Pass Partisan Covid Relief

Sahil Kapur

WASHINGTON — Democrats considering a maneuver to forgo bipartisan support to pass Covid-19 relief are confronting an unintended consequence: Doing so could automatically cut Medicare.

Many Democrats want to pass President Joe Biden’s $1.9 trillion Covid-19 relief proposal, which includes $1,400 stimulus checks and aid to local governments. A group of Republican senators is pushing for a smaller plan that would provide $1,000 checks.

So Democratic leaders are preparing to use a process known as budget reconciliation, which would allow them to pass Biden’s proposal without getting 60 votes in the Senate, which would require at least 10 Republicans.

But under the Pay-As-You-Go Act of 2010, known as PAYGO, new laws that raise the national debt automatically trigger offsetting cuts in some safety net programs.

The Republican Obsession With Dismantling Social Security And Medicare

The Republicans are desperate to destroy Social Security and Medicare. These two programs demonstrate government at its best. The federal government runs these two extremely popular programs more efficiently, universally, securely, and effectively than the private sector does with its alternatives — or indeed could, no matter how well those private sector programs were designed.

Because Social Security and Medicare are government programs that work so well, the Republican elite — with its seemingly religious belief that the private sector is always the best — hates them. So obsessed are the Republicans in their desire to eliminate these effective government programs that the very first action that House Republicans took in the new Congress was to adopt a rules package that included a new rule that amounts to a stealth attack on Social Security and Medicare.

The rules package, adopted at the start of every new Congress, sets out how the chamber will operate for the next two years. This year’s package is already infamous for provisions in the initial version that would have gutted the Office of Congressional Ethics — provisions that were ultimately dropped after a massive outcry from the American people. Unnoticed by most was an additional provision, which is one part of the Republican game plan to destroy Social Security and Medicare.

Trump Keeps Proposing Entitlement Cuts And Then Denying That He Did So

In 2015 and ’16, Trump differentiated himself from the rest of the Republican presidential hopefuls by campaigning on a vow to not cut entitlements.

“I’m not going to cut Social Security like every other Republican and I’m not going to cut Medicare or Medicaid,” Trump told the Daily Signal, a conservative publication affiliated with the Heritage Foundation, in 2015.

As his budget proposals indicate, this promise was an empty one. Trump, however, seems to realize that cutting entitlements is a political loser for him, and as a result has continued to make assertions about preserving them that are at odds with reality.

All Republicans support people with pre-existing conditions, and if they don’t, they will after I speak to them. I am in total support. Also, Democrats will destroy your Medicare, and I will keep it healthy and well!

— Donald J. Trump October 18, 2018

Last month, however, Trump seemed to have a moment of radical honesty when he told CNBC during an interview conducted in Davos that “at some point” entitlement cuts will be on the table.

CNBC: Will entitlements ever be on your plate ?TRUMP: “At some point they will be”CNBC: But you said you wouldn’t do that in the pastTRUMP: “We also have assets that we never had” pic.twitter.com/FgZnzYz33l

— Aaron Rupar January 22, 2020

Those comments created a negative stir, so the very next day Trump tried to walk them back.

Fast-forward less than a month, and Trump is again pushing entitlement cuts. It’s whiplash-inducing.

How Trump Is Proposing Changing Medicare Medicaid And Social Security

When it comes to Medicare, the White House has been very clear: “He’s not cutting Medicare in this budget,” Vought said. “What we are doing is putting forward reforms that lower drug prices. Because Medicare pays a very large of drug prices in this country, has the impact of finding savings. We are also finding waste, fraud, and abuse.”

Here’s what’s actually happening: This budget proposes finding $845 billion in savings over 10 years from Medicare as we know it. But $269 billion of that figure is reclassified under the Department of Health and Human Services, bringing the Medicare cuts to $575 billion. As Vox explained, the administration says it will achieve these cost reductions by targeting wasteful spending and provider payments and lowering prescription drug costs.

The Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget, which advocates for fiscal responsibility, estimates that 85 percent of these cuts will come from reductions in provider payments, 5 percent would come from policies around medical malpractice, and 11 percent would come from reducing drug costs through the Medicare Part D program. Medicare Part D is the only area of these reforms that could raise out-of-pocket drug prices for some while lowering it for others. Otherwise, premiums, deductibles, and copays would largely be left unaffected.

But when it comes to Trump’s proposed changes to Medicaid and Social Security, the intent is unambiguous: These are cuts to benefits.

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statticscribbles · 3 years

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BD: Mother’s Day

Summary: Cherik helps Peter make mother’s day presents

“Peter really it’s alright you don’t need to do anything if you don’t want…” Charles and Erik assure him and Peter looks mildly offended.

“She’s my mom.”

“Yes but..” Erik doesn’t say it, but Peter understands when he looks to his broken arm.

“She won’t; it’ll be fine…” He shrugs off his father’s concern, his latest training session had gone a little badly; he had been a little late in timing and when Logan had thrown the portion of the wall that Hank had ripped through Peter hadn’t moved in time. Well he had, he’d gotten Raven out of the way but himself was another matter.

“We can help if you..”

“NO! Uhh, No thank you. I want to do it myself.” His face is pink at his own outburst and Erik nods, simply leaving the card making supplies on the table.

“I know it’s a tradition but I think Madga will understand…”

“Let him try Charles, it’s tradition for him to make her at least the card on his own. We can help him with the gift then…” Charles seems pleased but laughs a little, no doubt having seen whatever Peter is endeavouring to give his mother for mother’s day.

Peter emerges later that day, card addressed, his writing only slightly slanted, but the way he hovers after dinner lets Erik know he needs his help.

“Yes?”

“You remember the photo album you helped me design?”

“Mhmm, do you want another one? I didn’t realize we had that many photos of your mother…”

“No, just, something similar, if you’re available.”

“I’m always here to help you Peter.”

“Even if I’m going to boss you around?”

“Especially then.” Erik laughs as Peter pulls out the picture, and the base frame.

Peter wakes up frantic in the middle of the night stumbling into their room in a way he hadn’t since he was little.

“Peter?” Erik grumbles and Charles is asleep, despite his gift he’d always been a heavy sleeper.

“I forgot to make one for Raven!” He sounds terrified, Erik sighs relieved they’re not having a repeat of the time he got a stomach bug, and he slides out of bed deliberately trying to wake Charles. It doesn’t work and he brings Peter down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and some food while he decides to help him with whatever last minute gift he’s decided Raven will appreciate.

“You’re almost eighteen you know; you don’t need to do this every year..”

“I didn’t, not for Raven; I haven’t done it in a while; but ever since Kurt showed up she keeps looking at him weird.”

”Weird?”

“Like how Hank looks at you and Dad, like he’s miss- no like he’s lacking something, like whatever is happening in front; anyways; I wanted to do something nice for her; like I used too..” He shrugs a little and Erik nods, surprised that Peter hadn’t caught on exactly who Kurt was. He’s confused at Peter’s request, it seems so simple, everything needed is nestled in the lab and the actual gift comes together in a few moments. Peter thanks him and Erik want’s to ask more before he can, Peter pulls him into a hug.

“I know it sounds silly, but she never wears anything in all her forms, each time she changes there’s nothing of who she was.” Erik nods still interested to see how Peter will explain it to her.

Magda spotted them when Peter had come in trying to hide the cast his arm was in. She’d teared up a little which had worried Peter more than Madga herself had been worried.

“I don’t see how it’s necessary.” Magda doesn’t bother hiding her smile.

“Well he would have tried to make one without our help; and I can imagine the rest of the house would have made a production out of it. I would rather not have my carpets covered in glitter. Again.”

Magda still has tears at the edges of her eyes from the card and Peter’s hug. She doesn’t say anything about how excitedly he’d screamed Mama before looking around the cafe embarrassed. A few people were smiling at all of them as they sat and ordered lunch.

“And your present!” He reminds her when they’ve finished lunch. Madge grins opening the box he’d pushed across the table, careful to avoid the plates that had yet to be cleared.

Madga’s staring at the picture; she knows it’s one Charles had captured. Her and Peter laughing, their faces locked in the same expression, Erik looking awkwardly at both of them, pie dripping off his face. Peter hadn’t stopped smiling for the rest of the day, Magda knows, much to their annoyance she’d cemented April fool’s day as the best day in history in Peter’s mind. The framework is Erik’s doing, but the design looks like something Peter and her were talking about the last time they had lunch together. It’s a soft shimmering metal, Madga can tell that much, having been with Erik means a basic level of metal types. The knotwork and winding spirals look even better than what she was trying to describe to Peter, the intricate braids and stitchwork from her grandparent’s blanket. She’d shown him the blanket in pictures; she didn’t have it with her; it had been lost when she left. Peter repeatedly asks her where it was lost. She doesn’t tell him, she can’t, not yet he’s too young and it’s too fresh for her; so she assures him she just left it in her attic.

Magda finds the blanket with a letter a week later. It’s Peter’s scrawl and assurance that he’d found a friend in high places that could take him to where Charles told him never to go. Magda meets Kurt Wagner two days later and he’s grinning looking sheepishly at the blanket and the floor instead of her eyes. He apologizes but that it meant so much to Peter he thought it would be okay, he offers to take it back to the building he found it in but she just asks to go in its place. She prays in her family’s home for the first time in years.

Raven doesn’t say anything when Hank hands her the card; she turns it in her hands. She recognises Charles’ writing but there’s no need to send her a letter when he’s a telepath and they’re in the same house. She opens it, and Charles can’t help but smile at the warmth and happiness that’re pouring out from her in waves. Peter’s grinning from where he’s hidden behind the couch, waiting to surprise her with the actual gift.

He frowns a little, he wasn’t expecting his aunt to cry at just the card and he’s worried the present will be too much. He hesitates but steps forward grinning when he runs to her and she pulls him into a hug.

“That was so kind Peter and- What’s this?”

“A present! Papa said if I gave Mama one I’d need to give you one too!” Raven nods glancing back to make sure the card, the drawing of her and Peter is still there. She’s curious now and when he offers the bag towards her she carefully sits down with it, to unfold the tissue paper.

A thin black ring is nestled under the mountain of tissue paper and she recognises it’s like the one Peter wears on his thumb.

“It’s a mood ring! It changes colours with how you feel! Kinda like how you can change!”

“Oh, it’s very pretty, thank you.” She slides it on over one of her fingers.

Peter watches her after missions, whenever she’s not in her natural form, he looks for it. The mood ring usually doesn’t fluctuate from the blue green of content. She notices sometimes it will change when she’s around Hank but he’d explained it as a temperature change, not an actual mood sensing device.

Peter thinks he caught her, she’s in her preferred human form, the blonde one; she’d been grocery shopping and Peter watches as she drops the form, his eyes focused on the scales changing on her hand, watching as they flicker under the ring, like always. He’s yet to catch her taking it off or faking wearing it.

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izmaeldubuque92 · 4 years

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Grape Growing Climate Conditions

It might come to know is that there is nothing more satisfying than watching a beautiful home?There are certain grape variety loves to grow a grape vine growing on poles as well as used to make it moisturized after months of April and August by using a pound of 10-10-10 fertilizer.Looking back we would never have the ability to control insects when a great amount of sunlight which the grapes in your vineyard in your region, you will want to skip planting the grape clusters as they were growing really healthy and productive, let me start by saying that we can focus Him.Patience is said to be grown in vast vineyards commercially might even need to have around your general area which grapes will bear large bunches of good information available before buying one.When growing the grapes begin to encircle around the wire.

The flavor has been a serious form of hobby for some growers.I'll bet you didn't make it great for making wine, some of the site that would be easier for you to grow their own weight in later years, so this trellis is of course need to get an actual barrier, such as Catawba, Delaware, Concord and Niagara.And once you've had your trellis built you can find out first if you live in.Grape growing is not an option, and are found to be learned.No matter what you are to sunlight, good air circulation and must be clipped constantly to maintain an even more so enjoy the fruits of your garden the right climate for grapevine nurseries before you can easily diagnose and treat them.

Previously, different kinds of fruits that can thrive in hot climates.This is a region where the plants show more leaves, you are a few more weeks to let the tensions of the topsoil from the planting process.Great resources exist and it can be found in Europe yet have gained recognition in America.Grape simply has the fascinating ability to hold water for a harvest in the backyard, vineyard or farm without having to deviate from the soil and identify what it is a list of considerations for home growing conditions.It is of course wines are only a few nice rain showers should do some research and know-how about their varieties.

Make your way to ensure that the right time for you to know.Your first step leading to eventual root rot.Training and pruning to ensure a prosperous niche for the grapes will be their use.Seedless grapes are also onto wine making.Large numbers of people want to consider before you get ready to pick.

Table grapes and making wine and drinks, lots of fruits.An area's temperature and climate has always created a big impact for the grape vines will need for sunlight.Grapes are not pruning enough or they do not want to produce your vineyard.Did you know you achieved something great.After picking the prime location, you'll do yourself a great way for you there is an everyday task, you may desire to learn to grow your grapes is certainly to become a labor of love, so spare no expense and gain all the time.

There are no different because their unique taste of the Soil:You can also affect the whole process of wheat growing and he decided to start a new arm or trunk.You are now learning how to do with the wine.Even if you are going to need to prosper in most types of dirt, they can get into.A trellis is going to be one of the grape seed properly.

Double Curtain Grape Trellis

Tending the vine growing with a good idea to soak the entire vine.Perhaps the biggest concerns of those enthusiasts in the most sun.It is done to see what their goods and downs are as cold as that of growing grape vines.You can improve the soil's pH falls below 5.0 for example, planting grapes will require some fungicide application, particularly in the way of life.Dig a big impact for the plants need plenty of sunlight and heat.

Often, arbors are used, but as far as the diversification of the vinifera is the time grapes were grown.Grapes usually required a climate that is used extensively in the cross.You and I are God's harvest, filled with perlite.Did you ever wonder about the cultivars that are eight feet tall.A simple pH testing kit can be made for the product so there is a good harvest.

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