#he had to adopt a more ''working class'' accent to be taken seriously

[boyfeminism]

i love fjord more than any character in the world, he is the specialest of special boys, However. its the Funniest fucking thing to me that sailors did not listen to him bc of his "fancy boy" accent

#critical role #its so fucking funny #he had to adopt a more ''working class'' accent to be taken seriously #and you know what. good fhshhfjshfjs #its the opposite of taking on a ''fancy'' accent to be taken seriously in high society and i love it #speaking

[whitehotharlots]

Liberal cruelty has consquences

This semester is winding down. As I am desperate to avoid grading student papers, I’ve spent the morning reading longish-form online articles. I just came across one that I feel very conflicted about. The online reaction to it as been troubling. So I don’t know if I have anything particularly coherent to say, but I’d like to talk about it.

The anonymously written piece is titled “What Happened After My 13-Year-Old Son Joined the Alt Right.”  It documents a young man’s journey from a garden variety, liberal-leaning goon to a frothing neo nazi mutant.

The piece is understandably sympathetic, seeing as it was written by the boy’s parent. The writer’s whiny and heavy handed tone caused me, and most of my e-pals, to dismiss it. If anything, the essay showcases an immense failure of parenting. If my child were to ask me to take him or her to a “Traditional American Culture” rally, I would slap the everloving shit of them. Lord knows how many times the kid’s parents had dropped the ball before it ever got to that point.

But then I re-read the start of the article, in which the parent identifies the trigger point for their son’s downward slide:

One morning during first period, a male friend of Sam’s mentioned a meme whose suggestive name was an inside joke between the two of them. Sam laughed. A girl at the table overheard their private conversation, misconstrued it as a sexual reference, and reported it as sexual harassment. Sam’s guidance counselor pulled him out of his next class and accused him of “breaking the law.” Before long, he was in the office of a male administrator who informed him that the exchange was “illegal,” hinted that the police were coming, and delivered him into the custody of the school’s resource officer. At the administrator’s instruction, that man ushered Sam into an empty room, handed him a blank sheet of paper, and instructed him to write a “statement of guilt.”

No one called me as this unfolded, even though Sam cried for about six hours straight as staff members parked him in vacant offices to keep him away from other students. When he stepped off the bus that afternoon and I asked why his eyes were so swollen, he informed me that he would probably be suspended, but possibly also expelled and arrested.

If Kafka were a middle-schooler today, this is the nightmare novel he would have written.

At a meeting two days later with my husband, Sam, and me, the administrator piled more accusations on top of the harassment charge—even implying, with undisguised hostility, that Sam and his friend were gay. He waved in front of us a statement from the girl at the table and insisted that Sam would need to defend himself against her claims if he wanted to prove his innocence. But the administrator refused to reveal the particulars of the complaint (he had also blacked out identifying details, FBI-style) and then hid the paperwork under a book. He declared that it was his primary duty, as a school official and as a father of daughters, to believe and to protect the girls under his care.

Eck… who edited this? It would have worked so much better without a fucking Kafka reference.

So, maybe it was the tone. I dunno. But most readers seem to regard this section as exaggerated, possibly fabricated.  The takeaway was “boo hoo, the nazi kid got punished for sexually harassing  a girl.” Heck: If a reader is truly dedicated to the #BelieveAllWomen mantra, then this description doesn’t warrant sympathy even if it’s entirely true. The kid said something that upset the girl. It wasn’t directed to her and it wasn’t about her. But still, he upset her, and she’s a girl, so he is bad and deserved whatever punishment was doled out to him.

And this got me thinking about my experiences in high school, as a student in the late 90s and a teacher in the mid-aughts. Administrators seemed to always be adopting some or other policy of harsh punishment for bad behavior: zero tolerance toward weapons, drugs, hats, disrespectful posture, electronic devices, swearing, Simpsons t-shirts, and mentally unhygenic reading materials. During dances and social gatherings, my middle school allowed students to bring in CDs from home. That was a decent policy, but anyone who attempted to play a “hip hop” track would receive an immediate suspension for “endorsing violence,” regardless of the track’s lyrical content. My high school adopted a firm anti-bullying policy, but once a boy came to school wearing a gothic dress as some kind of vague transgressive statement, and two separate male teachers called him a fag--out in the open, in front of everybody, as part of the official business of teaching.

Once, in 8th grade, two kids were caught taking over-the-counter caffeine pills. They didn’t get sick or anything; a girl saw them and she narced. They were arrested by the school resource officer, taken in a cop car to the hospital to have their stomachs pumped, and then summarily expelled, their young lives effectively ruined over 50 milligrams of a safe and legal stimulant. At an emergency assembly held the next day, the frog-faced principal croaked out a dire warning that the use of such drugs was strictly forbidden and we would all be subjected to the same fate, should we attempt to sneak in any No Doz. As he issued his stern warning, he slurped gluttonously from a 22-ounce mug of gas station coffee.

The point is, zero tolerance never really means zero tolerance. Rules are always--always, literally always, without exception in the whole of human history--enforced arbitrarily. Harsh policies rarely make anyone safer. They are employed instead to further humiliate and brutalize those who have already been rejected by the system. In my last two paragraphs, I cited the dumbest and most conspicuous examples of arbitrary cruelty that happened to pop into my head. This doesn’t cover the everyday, petty cruelties that teachers and administrators would exact upon kids they simply didn’t like. Without exception, these were the kids who were already marginalized: effeminate boys, masculine but unathletic girls, kids who dressed poorly, kids who spoke with accents, black kids, kids with learning disabilities or behavioral problems. These kids would be given detentions or even suspensions for minor infractions--looking away from the chalkboard, slouching, sneaking in candy, laughing at importune times, etc. It wasn’t the teacher’s fault, of course: zero tolerance and all that. But, strangely, the zero tolerance policies never seemed to apply to the popular, athletic, and/or well-connected kids. If Suzie Creamcheese was caught sneaking some Starburst during Algebra--well, she’s probably hungry, seeing as she works so hard. If Raul, Roofus, or Sheena were caught doing the same? God help them.

Some teachers were nicer than others, of course. Some were downright supportive. Others were simply evil. There was one, when I was in 7th grade, who was particularly repulsive and cruel--no kidding, his admiration of Rush Limbaugh was formative in my early-adopted hatred of American conservatives. He had matted red hair and teeth like a cracked picket fence and would wear a leather jacket out to lunch. Anyhow, he would prattle on about his hatred of kids who “Just. Refuse. To. Learn.” These kids were almost always black. Pure coincidence, I’m sure. He’d make a show of tossing them out of class--sometimes physically--for infractions as minor as getting an answer wrong when called upon. One time, a twitchy white kid who wore the same t-shirt every day called him out: It’s unfair, he said, that I’m getting thrown out of class for getting an answer wrong, when right before me another kid got several chances to respond.

The teacher turned beet red. He got on his knees and put his face two inches in front of the twitchy kid’s eyes. 

“I’m not throwing you out because you got the answer wrong,” he explained. “I’m throwing you out because you are you.”

Again, these are the conspicuous examples. The everyday stuff is harder to describe twenty-five years after it happened.  Most people were not brutalized and they didn’t have a single moment that ruined their life, but they were still exposed to a deeply unfair and cruel system, and such exposure naturally engenders feelings of betrayal, hopelessness, and anger.

Here’s my story--it’s particularly stupid. 9th grade. One day,  I walked into Spanish class, and the large woman who teaches in that classroom before my section grabbed me by the collar, physically lifted me out of my chair, and shoved her moist biscuit of a hand into my face. “What is this,” she demanded.

This was all very sudden. I could see nothing but her hand, which had a distinct fecal aroma.

“I don’t know,” I said.

She removed her hand. I looked down toward desk. She stood silently. I had no fucking idea what she was talking about.

“You’re gonna tell me what you did, right now, or I’m gonna double the detentions.”

I was still silent. Seriously, no idea what was going on. This enraged her. She began to count upward, starting at 3 detentions and stopping at 10, by which point tears were welling up and my face was flushed. I said I seriously did not know. She pointed to a small pentagram someone had engraved into the desktop. The desks, by the way, were movable. Anyone could have done it. She blamed me because she didn’t like me. I served 10 detentions and had to pay over a hundred dollars (a shitload of money for a 13-year-old) to get the desk refinished.

This isn't the end of the world, obviously. But it really, oddly broke me. Before, I had thought that so long as I did was I supposed to and didn’t break any rules, I’d be okay. Now I realized that was bullshit, that any vindictive cunt with a few ounces of power could punish me for any reason, at any time, and I wouldn’t be allowed to mount a defense. That’s the sort of thing that fucks with a kid’s head.  I mean, christ--it’s 23 years later and I’m still kinda pissed about it. I hope that woman is dead.

I regained a sense of control by stealing books from the woman’s classroom. A few times a week, I would grab a textbook when I came in, use it during class, and walk out with it. At the end of the school year, some friends and I burned them in a glorious bonfire along the banks of the Mississippi.

My response was petty and destructive, but I don’t feel any pengs of guilt or shame in remembering it. I had to do something to reassert agency, to feel like I had some control, and I managed to find a way to go about doing it that didn’t hurt anybody or get me into trouble. Regardless of the morality of my particular response, we can agree that kids are now much more surveilled than they were 20-odd years ago, and that minor mischief is now much more harshly criminalized. If a kid finds themself on the outs within their school, there’s really no way they can push back. Their only available avenue of asserting control over their lives is to wander into welcoming communities elsewhere…

One more anecdote then I’m done….

My sister was in high school during 9/11. The attacks were on a Tuesday, and the whole rest of the week was assemblies and talking circles and other such activities meant to assuage fear and gin up the hatred of the dirty brown bastards that done this. Two of my sister’s friends, older boys, were the sort of kids who read Howard Zinn and listened to Jello Biafra’s spoken word records. During one meeting, they expressed exasperation at a girl who was sobbing because she just, like, didn’t know why anyone would do that. The boys certainly didn’t approve of the attacks, but they tried to explain the whole concept of the US being an unhinged and murderous imperial power that had done much worse stuff all over the globe. The audience gasped. The boys were hauled into the principal’s office. They were charged with verbally assaulting the crying girl. One was suspended. The other expelled.

So, I dunno… go ahead. If you think due process is evil, that all victimhood claims are valid and should be taken at face value, and that kids of lesser social status should be demonized and made into criminals for upsetting members of the fair sex, then you do you. That’s fine if that’s what you believe. But please don’t be so naive as to think that the bulk of these newly criminalized behaviors are going to actually be malignant, or that the genuinely malignant behaviors of secure kids will be curbed in any way. Please respect yourself enough to realize that school admins aren’t magic sages with mature moral compasses--a plurality of them were business majors in college, for fuck’s sake. And most importantly, don’t be surprised if the kids you dismiss wind up doing some crazy or awful shit in response.

[callboxkat]

Merry (part 1)

Author’s note: This’ll probably only be two or three parts, unless I get inspired. Either way, this first part would probably work as a one-shot. Happy birthday, Virgil!

Warnings: This first part doesn’t really have any. Just some food mentions and mild-ish selective mutism. It’s pretty fluffy, to be honest.

Word count: 2470

Look for links to part 2 and my writing masterpost in the notes!

...

December, 2017

Patton was excited.

He absolutely loved throwing birthday parties, and it had been a while since he’d gotten to do so. He was especially eager because the last friend of his to have a birthday had been Logan, whose birthdays were never as fun as, say, Roman’s. It wasn’t that Patton preferred any of his friends over the others—of course he didn’t! Logan was one of Patton’s favorite people in the world, but he just wasn’t as receptive to Patton’s efforts as most of their other friends, which made him a little sad. He didn’t mean to be selfish about it, but it was always more fun when the person whose birthday it actually was was as excited about it as Patton.

He thought back to Logan’s birthday, which had been on November 3rd, just over a month ago. Knowing their friend, Patton and the others had tried to keep the celebrations minimal: just the six friends together at Roman’s house for cake, small presents, and a few games of Mario Kart on Roman’s console. Logan had been flustered by the attention; and while he was clearly trying to hide that he was pleased, he kept trying to insist that the party’s motivation didn’t make any sense.

“Patton, this is all highly unnecessary—I am only a day older than I was yesterday. I have not suddenly aged by an entire year. Really, all of this celebration is rather frivolous.”

They had all still had a fun time, of course! And Patton wouldn’t change Logan for the world.

Even so, this birthday was particularly special: it would Virgil’s first birthday since they had met him; and, according to Logan, he was turning eighteen! He would officially become an adult! That fact required celebration.

Patton was slightly ashamed to admit that he had nearly missed the date. Had it not been for an offhand comment by Logan about the upcoming milestone this month, Patton probably wouldn’t have known until after the date had passed. Logan hadn’t known the exact date of Virgil’s birthday, but some quick internet searching had gotten Patton his answer. December 19th—a Tuesday, only two days before winter break officially began (the school ended that week on a Thursday for reasons unknown to him). Patton was immensely glad that his friend’s birthday didn’t fall during the break. That would make things so much harder to plan!

Even though that was happily not the case, Patton had some work to do. He wanted Virgil’s day to be perfect.

…

A week before his birthday, Virgil received a package in the mail. It was fairly large, and at first, Virgil had assumed that there had been a mix-up at the post office. When he found out that his father had sent it, though, things made more sense. Virgil’s dad always got him a birthday present, no matter how tight money was. It made sense that he would put in even more effort this year, since his work and geographic distance kept him from coming to visit for the occasion.

On the side of the box, written in black sharpie, was a note: “Do Not Open Until Dec 19!!” The message was surrounded by simple line drawings: a party hat, a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, a smiley face, and a gift box. Virgil’s dad was no artist, but it made the just-shy-of-eighteen-year-old smile.

He put the box under his bed, so as to not be overly tempted to open it early, but he made sure to shoot a thank-you text to his dad so that he would know the present had arrived.

His dad, of course, immediately called him. Virgil didn’t mind: he actually really enjoyed talking about their days. Virgil’s dad still called him most days, in fact, even though Virgil had been in college for several months now.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, picking up on the second ring.

“Hey, Virgil! You didn’t open your present yet, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he laughed. “I can read.”

…

Everything was planned and ready.

Virgil still seemed to think that none of his friends knew about his upcoming birthday, and judging by how he was acting, he planned to keep it that way.

His birthday was tomorrow, after all. If Virgil had wanted any sort of effort to be put in to celebrate by the others, he would have told them earlier. Or, at least, he would have done so if he wanted them to know that he wanted that.

What a weird sentence, Patton thought.

Regardless, while it had taken some planning, everything was ready for his friend’s birthday. All Patton needed to do was work on his own present.

He sure hoped Virgil liked it.

…

Today was Virgil’s birthday. He was officially eighteen. Finally, an adult.

He had class, obviously, since it was a Tuesday, but he had the day off of work. He planned to use the afternoon mostly to just relax, although he did have some plans. Talyn had invited him to see a movie at four, a couple of hours after their and Virgil’s last class. Apparently, they’d been planning to go with Joan, but their schedule had filled up, and Virgil was one of their only other friends who was a fan of the horror genre.

Until then, though, Virgil planned to go about his day like normal. He attended class and sat with his friends as usual; thankfully, none of them seemed to know that today was any different than any other. Virgil was glad. He hadn’t wanted his friends to feel any pressure to put something together for him.

After school, he decided to open his present.

Virgil dug the package out from under his bed and carried it out to the kitchen, relieved when he set it down on the counter. It was quite heavy, whatever it contained. He smiled at the note scribbled on its side, then grabbed a pair of scissors and got to work removing the packaging tape. When he got the box open, Virgil had intended to grab the birthday card first, but the gift immediately grabbed his attention.

It was a coffee-maker, brand new, fancier than he was accustomed to.

Virgil oh-so-gently lifted it out of the box, staring at the machine in almost reverent awe. He set it carefully on the table, like it was made of glass.

“Um, what is that?”

Virgil looked up to see his roommate, Remy, standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the main room.

“It’s a coffee-maker.”

“I can see that, but gurl, since when can you afford one like that?” Remy made his way over, staring at the machine in shock.

“It’s a present from my dad,” Virgil admitted.

“You are 100 percent, absolutely letting me use it. This is non-negotiable. I’m putting it in the roommate agreement,” Remy said seriously. “Wait—a present? For what? Christmas isn’t until next week.”

“Um. It’s sort of my birthday?”

Remy lowered his sunglasses and regarded him over the rims, eyebrows raised in shock. “It’s your birthday? You cannot just, like, spring that on me! I don’t have anything for you!”

Virgil shrugged, embarrassed. “…I, uh, I didn’t expect you to care.”

“What! This is slander! Come on,” Remy said, grabbing Virgil’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “We’re going to get you some coffee. My present to you.”

“Uh�� not to sound un—unappreciative or anything, but…” Virgil indicated the coffee maker he had literally just unwrapped.

“Coffee grounds, dummy, for the machine.” Remy rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Now get your shoes on and let’s go!”

Virgil let himself be dragged along, weakly protesting that he had to be back by four, since he was going to see a movie with a friend.

“Yeah, yeah, you will be.” Remy grinned, opening the door to the apartment building and pulling his roommate towards his car. “Get in, Grinch, we’re going shopping.”

…

At four o’clock, Virgil arrived at the library, where Talyn was waiting to pick him up. They smiled, pushing off of the little half-wall lining the walkway, and approached. They had recently dyed their hair a bright green, presumably for the upcoming holiday; and their stylishly done makeup had accents of red and gold.

Virgil wanted to tell them that they looked nice, but for some reason giving people compliments, even in a completely platonic way, was intimidating. So, he settled for a half-smile and a “hello”.

“Ready to go?” Talyn asked cheerfully.

The two of them were going to see a new horror movie that had recently come out. Apparently, Talyn and Joan had been planning to go together, but something had come up in Joan’s schedule, and so Talyn had an extra ticket. They had asked Virgil to come in Joan’s place, without asking him to help pay, and they didn’t even know it was his birthday! Virgil hadn’t told anybody, except now for Remy.

They arrived at the theatre, and Talyn made use of a gift card they had to get each of them some popcorn. They claimed to have found it when cleaning their room about a week ago. Virgil wasn’t sure if he believed this, but he decided to play along. It was really nice of them to pay.

The movie itself was pretty good. Virgil probably wouldn’t see it again, but it wasn’t bad. He really liked hanging out with Talyn, honestly, more than watching the actual movie. Before it had started, during the previews, they told him a funny story about their mom’s naming choices with a cat she had adopted—apparently, her first choice had been “Cosmic Charlie”.

“I—I don’t know, that seems like a quality name to me,” Virgil had said, grinning shyly, when they told him this.

“Oh, of course. It’s so unique, you know? But we kinda helped her figure out that Odin might be a better name.”

“Fewer syllables,” Virgil had agreed, nodding knowingly.

“Exactly.”

“No other reason for the name change, I’m sure.”

“Nope!”

Virgil smirked, pausing to eat some popcorn. “Does she just have the one cat?”

“No, my family has three. The other two are Boy Cat and Girl Cat.”

Virgil, who had just taken a sip from his drink, nearly spit it out. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah… but that wasn’t her. I named them when I was a kid.”

Virgil laughed. “That’s great.”

…

On the way home, Talyn checked the time on their dashboard, hummed, and then glanced over at Virgil. “Do you mind if we stop at Patton’s apartment on the way? I have to pick something up.”

Virgil shrugged. Why would he mind?

Talyn drove to Patton’s apartment building, which Virgil hadn’t actually been to before, and parked on the curb. “Why don’t you come with me? You know Patton: we’re probably going to end up chatting for a bit.”

Virgil nodded, shrugging again. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The two of them walked up to Patton’s building—a stark contrast to Virgil’s own, but most of his friends wouldn’t know that. Roman was still the only one of his closest friends who had visited his run-down apartment building, and Virgil had made him promise not to tell the others about it. He didn’t want them to judge him for it, or worse, to pity him.

Talyn and Virgil were about halfway between the street and the building when Virgil paused.

“Wait, isn’t that Logan’s car over there?” he asked, pointing towards the sleek black car parked a short distance down the block.

Talyn followed his gaze, paused for a second, then said, “Maybe? I’m not sure. It’s a pretty common car.”

Virgil frowned, but he let Talyn lead him up to the building. They pressed the button beside Patton’s apartment number, and he buzzed them in almost immediately.

Walking down the hallway towards Patton’s apartment, Virgil cleared his throat, and then spoke uncertainly, his voice wavering and soft. “This—this was all p-planned… wasn’t it?” He wasn’t sure what made him more anxious to say that, that Talyn might be upset that he figured it out, or that he might be wrong and was about to have a very awkward conversation.

Talyn turned to grin at him, and then reached up and knocked on the door.

Relief flooded through Virgil, accompanied by confusion and, admittedly, a bit of excitement. The door swung open, and a chorus of voices greeted him.

“Happy birthday, Virgil!”

…

Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Talyn, and Joan all sat around Patton’s kitchen table. Virgil, seated before a chocolate birthday cake, was sure his face was bright red as everyone else sang the happy birthday song.  The moment was made all the more embarrassing by two specific friends: Roman, of course, was being way too extra with his singing, adding riffs and changing octaves far more than should have been possible in such a short song; and Logan, meanwhile, sang in such a manner that, if he didn’t know any better, Virgil would have thought he was doing really awkward beat poetry.

The song finally ended, and Virgil leaned forward, blowing out the candles.

They enjoyed the cake after that, and then Patton insisted that they all watch Virgil open his presents.

“Wait—presents?” he repeated.

“Well, it is a birthday party,” Roman pointed out. “Presents are generally included.”

“Yeah, but… you didn’t have to do that. You already….” He gestured around at, well, everything.

“We know we didn’t have to,” Patton assured him. “We wanted to.”

Virgil didn’t have much choice in the matter, so he opened the gifts. They were already bought, he told himself; and it would be rude to refuse. Plus, he was secretly very happy that his friends had done all of this for him.

From Logan, he got a gift card, which he claimed was intended for some audio books that he believed would be calming for him. He had gotten the idea from the large pair of headphones that Virgil carried around in his free time.

From Talyn and Joan, who had already set up the outing to the movies for him, he got a pack of Tarot cards. When he asked about it, Joan shrugged and claimed that they’d thought of him when they saw it at a shop.

Roman gave him a poster of Jack Skellington from Nightmare before Christmas, already framed. He seemed incredibly pleased by Virgil’s shocked expression.

“Dude, how much did you spend on this?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman said, grinning.

And from Patton, he got a little black, gray, white, and purple friendship bracelet, handmade, and a card that Patton had clearly drawn himself.

Virgil liked the gifts, but he absolutely loved his friends.

...

College AU tag list:  @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @lotusthatexists-festivestyle @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything  @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @soft-boy-patton @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @enby-kiddo-with-a-blog @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @spider-parker14 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #college au #merry fic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fan fiction #technically two hours late but shhhh

[corpuscaiiosum]

Outbreak Delayed Chapter 1 A Telltale’s TWD fanfic

Lee Everett couldn’t still couldn’t quite believe the turn his life had taken.  He’d spent the last seven years of his life locked up in the Meriweather County Correctional Facility, and now, now he wasn’t.  Nearly a decade of appeals, a re-trial, and three different legal teams his sentence of second-degree murder had been commutate to involuntary manslaughter, his time had already been served.  Every penny he’d had was gone, some to his ex-wife, the rest to his legal defense, but he was a free man.

Prospects had been slim from the beginning, not many schools would hire the “Senator Slaughterer” as some publications had called him at the time of his first trail, and not wanting to live with his brother for any longer than he had to he began searching for jobs outside of his home state.  Truth be told with his marriage over, and both of his parents gone there was little to tie him to Georgia anymore, and all the reasons in the world to leave.  Eventually something came through.

Lee was sweeping the floor of the pharmacy his brother now ran when his phone began to ring.  He groaned at the possibility of another solicitor trying to sell him something he didn’t need, or help with student debt he no longer had, but still he answered with a resigned  

“Hello?”  There was no long pause however, nor did the voice on the other end of the line seem pre-recorded.

“Yes I’m looking for Mr. Everett, Lee Everett”  

“That’s me” Lee responded, and motioned to his brother he would be taking his call in the office.  “Can I ask what this is regarding?”  Hope rising in his chest.

“I very much hope so Mr. Everett.  My name is Richard Miller, you applied for a post with us through the “Scared Straight” program and I think you would be a marvelous fit for us.  We just lost one of our teachers, and would like to offer you the position.”  Lee listened intently as Miller listed out the details of the position, and while the salary and benefits weren’t as good as those he had enjoyed as a University Professor, it was a good deal better than his brother could offer.  That is how Lee Everett came to pack the few worldly possessions he owned into his parent’s old station-wagon, and began the long drive north to West Virginia.

For the most part the trip went well, with a few stops at historic civil war battle sites.  Less than a week later he was pulling up to the wide sealed up gate of the School tucked away in some backwoods, fairly far from any sizeable town.  He supposed that was intentional, less to distract the students.  

“Ericson’s Boarding school for Troubled Youths” He said aloud, reading plaque by the little door.  Through the metal bars he could see kids playing in the little courtyard between the gate and admin building.  From where he was sitting, they didn’t look troubled, most were laughing with one another, playing games or flipping through books.  Then like a chill wind was rolling in their smiles faltered, suddenly on edge.  Then he saw why.  A heavy-set man in his early 60’s was making his way down the small stone pathway, a powerful looking pitbull strolling comfortably at his side.  As he got closer Lee understood exactly what was going on.  That saccharinely cheerful smile, that smug shine behind the eyes, it was the same mask the warden wore when he made the rounds with his guards, aloof, above everyone around him and infinitely confident of his own importance.  

Lee felt as if his heart would drop into his stomach, immediately knowing this is the man he’d agreed to come work for, he pushed that feeling down however, it was better than prison.  He studied the high walls and arrogant headmaster again.  Better than prison, if not entirely different he decided.

Mr Everett. . .” The heavyset man began, plastered on smile still splitting his face as he motioned for a guard –his uniform said security, but Lee recognized a guard when he saw one- To open the gate. “. . .It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”  Lee shook his hand when he extended it, trying his best to match the man’s enthusiasm.

“Thank you sir, I’m just happy to have the opportunity.”  The headmaster nodded benevolently and turned motioning for Lee to follow him.  “This is Rosie, she’s a real sweetheart. . .most of the time.”  A nasty little chuckle escaped his lips before whistling to her “Give Mr Wallace here your keys he’ll park your car in the faculty lot.”  He said pointing to the security officer, who didn’t bother with the smile the way Miller did, rather just nodded begrudgingly as he handed the keys over.  

Lee’s smile became more genuine as he passed by the kids who despite their obvious fear of man leading the way peaked out the corners of their eyes at him.  Surreptitiously he waved at them, winking at a particularly shy looking boy with heavy burn scars on one side of his face who in turn smiled weakly back at him.  

“I’ll have you sign some paperwork then one of our students will show you around the grounds.”  The headmaster moved like a king surveying his kingdom, as he pointed out features of the school grounds.  “Over there is are the student dorms, on the other side we have the main classrooms, and the greenhouse around back.  Now since there’s only ever between 45 and 50 students here at Ericson each classroom is usually only comprised of roughly 10 or so students of similar age.  Seeing as you’re more used to college age students you’ll be overseeing our oldest group.  It’s quite the coop for us really, a man with a university professor’s qualifications, and first-hand experience going through the criminal justice system.  I really do think you’ll be a great benefit.”  Lee couldn’t help but find himself agreeing even as the headmaster blustered on, it was nothing short of miraculous that he wouldn’t be spendign the rest of his life behind bars, and if he could help some of these kids keep from making mistakes like his than the pay cut and move would be well worth it.

“So, have you found a place to live yet?” The headmaster asked as they ascended the stairs to his office, Rosie taking her place in a bed beside his desk.  Lee shook his head as he took a seat he was offered.  “There’s a nice little motel in town you could stay at until you get settled properly.”  The portly man slid some papers across the desk.  “Alright so there’s your documents, your legal waiver as you know some of the students can be a bit. . .much.” He said seriously.  “Releases us and the parents from liability if you sustain any injuries in the course of your duties.”  He went through signing after giving each paper a quick skim through.  “Wonderful.”  The larger man depressed a button on the intercom on his desk, his voice projected from speakers throughout the school.  “Ms. Montrose, please report to the headmaster’s office immediately.”  Over the next few minutes Lee asked questions about his responsibilities, the school in general and the local area, until there was a firm knock at the still open door.

Lee turned to find a girl of maybe sixteen, who would come maybe up to his chest if they stood face to face.  She had dark curly hair that went past her neck, pulled into a loose braid that was tugged through the back of a purple baseball cap, a large capital D sewn onto the front.  She had intense hazel eyes that seemed to take in, measure and asses everything in the room at a glance.  She wore a torn paor of jeans, actually torn, well-worn jeans, not purposefully distressed designer things, and a black shirt beneath a burgundy leather jacket.

“Ah, Ms. Montrose so nice of you join us.  This is our new teacher Mr. Everett, he’s from Georgia just like you.”  The strange girl raised an eyebrow at that and asked.

“What part?”

“Macon.” Lee responded still unsure what to make of her.  Then she smiled, and he couldn’t help but return the expression, uncertainty vanishing; he liked this girl.

“You?”  He asked and she crossed her arms, smile tugging itself into a smirk.  “Atlanta.”  Something in her accent, or maybe the way she carried herself told him that wasn’t exactly true, so he crossed his own and waited, not breaking eye contact.  She laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Fine I’m from just outside Atlanta, little suburb you’ve never heard of.” He laughed as well.  

“Ms. Montrose here will show you around, she’s one of our most imporved students, we don’t expect to see her back here next year.”  The headmaster adopted an expression Lee expected he thought would look fatherly, but came across as self-satisfied, as if he’d been the primary factor in her rehabilitation.  Lee stood, waved to the headmaster who was already filing away his paperwork, and stepped out the door, following after the girl.  

“So, do they not believe in first names around here?”  The girl shook her head.

“No Mr. Miller just likes to keep things “very formal.” She said doing a fair impression of the blustery man.  “I’m Clementine.” She stopped and turned to him extending her hand.

“Now who’s being “Very Formal.” Lee teased with his own impression.  They both laughed as they shook hands.  “Lee.” He said finally.

“Lee, I like it.” Clementine said matter-of-factly, then motioned for him to follow.  “So down there is the library.”  She said leading him down one of the halls leading out of the large foyer, the sound of a Piano drifting out from it.  “That’s Louis, he gets special permission to use the piano after classes if he manages to behave himself. . .it is very unusual to find him playing.  They entered the high ceiling room, it’s walls lined with books.  “Sometimes we have dances, or parent’s night in here.”  A lanky looking boy with dreads sat at the piano, fingers gliding effortlessly over the keys, on one of the couches a blonde boy flipped lazily through the pages of an ancient looking book.  The moment the boy at the piano saw the two of them walk in the song changed and a mischievous grin slipped onto his face.

“Oh my Darlin, Oh my Darlin, Oh my Darlin clementine. . .” Clementine rolled her eyes once again.

“You gotta do that everytime I walk in here?” The grin turned to a look of mock sorrow.

“Dreadful sorry, Clementine.”  He laughed, swung his legs around on the piano stool, and stood with a little hop.  “Every single time.”  His eyes swung to meet Lee’s for a moment then back to Clementine.  “New boyfriend?” Clementine sighed but Lee could tell the frustration was feigned, the two of them playing the parts they’d grown comfortable playing with each other.  

“This is our new Teacher, Lee Everett.  Lee, this is Louis, our resident class clown and music lover.  Over there is Marlon.” She motioned towards the boy on the couch, who raised his hand in a lazy wave, not looking up from his book.  

“He’s my muscle.” That raised hand lifted it’s middle finger, the owner apparently not caring that the new comer had been introduced as a teacher.

“Nice to meet you both, guess you’re going to be in my class, the headmaster said I’d be teaching the older students.”  Louis nodded.

“Looks like it, it’s about time they found someone to replace Mr. Andrews, he was really getting up there, had to be almost 90.”  

“93” Marlon corrected, still not looking up from his book.  “I remember stealing a piece of cake from his 83rd birthday party my first year.”  Lee swung his head sharply to look at the still reclined young man.  

“You’ve been coming here for ten years?  Is that normal?” He asked looking between Clementine and Louis, who shook his head.   “Nah not really, only a couple of us have been here that long, I got here the year after Marlon.  Other than us it’s just Violet, Ruby, the twins, and Mitch, we’re the staples that hold this place together.”  Louis said making an expansive gesture at the room around them.

“What he means is we’re the ones whose parents already gave up on them.”  The boy on the couch finally set the book down and stood.  “Nice to meet you teach, see ya in class.” Tucking hands into the pockets of his letterman jacket Marlon walked past them and made his way down the hall to the entrance.  

“Well isn’t a ball of fucking sunshine.” Lee said as Marlon walked out, then realized what he’d said, and was about to tell the others to ignore that when they both burst out laughing.  

“Oh we’re gonna get along just fine Lee.” Louis said patting his shoulder as the laughter died down.

“Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the school.” Clementine said leading him back the way they came, Louis taking his place at the piano once again.  For the next hour or so Clementine lead him through the school, through the hallways with the classrooms, into the dining hall, the nurses office, and then finally to the greenhouse.  When they entered a stout redheaded girl was tending to some of the plants while a thin woman with dark hair around his own age, in a white lab coat was setting tools away in one of the storage closets.  

“What do you want?” The redhead snapped upon seeing Clementine enter, then shrank back a little when Lee followed her in.  

“Ruby, this is Lee Everett he’s taking over for Mr. Andrews, I’m showing him around.  Lee this is Ms. Martin and Ruby, miss martin is our nurse, and sort of a botany teacher as well.”  Ruby relaxed, grinned and nodded emphatically.  

“She knows everything about plants, and herbs and stuff, and she’ll teach anyone who asks.”  Ms. Martin blushed at the compliments but puffed her chest out a little as she walked over to shake Lee’s hand.  

“Nice to meet you.” They both said in unison as they shook hands, then laughed, Lee scratching at the back of his head.  

“Regina Martin.” She said finally, offering her first name as they broke their grasp.  “I know a little about plants, and I don’t mind sharing what I know with some of the kids if they’re interested, like Ruby here, she’s my best student.”  Ruby beamed and Miss Martin flashed her a proud smile.  “If there’s anything you need be sure to let me know, I’m either in here or my office.”  Lee nodded and wiped a bit of sweat from his brow.  

“So all the teachers live in town?” Lee asked as Clementine moved to help a slightly disgruntled looking Ruby lock up the fertilizer and the rest of the gardening supplies as they spoke.

“Near enough, the headmaster has his own room in the admin building, and Wallace has cot in the security office, damn near lives on the grounds.”  Lee nodded

“Must really care about the kids.” Miss Martin giggled a little behind one hand.  

“You’d think that would you? More like he’s worried what they’d do to school without his watchful eye.”  Clementine and Ruby scoffed at that as they came back over.  Lee looked out one of the high windows of the greenhouse roof at the setting sun.  

“I think I should get going, not sure I can find my way back to town in the dark.”  All three of them adopted an incredulous look.

“You don’t have GPS?” Clementine asked and Lee felt his face heat, he’d yet to acclimate to the advances in technology.  

“Uh no, money’s been a little tight lately.” Ruby punched Clementine’s arm.

“See now you went and made him feel bad, always asking the wrong questions.”  Miss Martin placed a hand on each of the girls’ shoulders.

“Girls it’s nearly lights out, how about you get yourselves to bed.”  They each nodded, and said their goodnights to the two teachers.  Lee watched them go.

“It’s funny, the more of these kids I meet, the less “Troubled” they seem.”  Regina moved to stand beside him, watching the two girls walking off.  

“You’ll see their rougher sides if you stay long enough, but it’s nice to have someone who can still see the softer side.”  He felt her hand on his shoulder, and a shiver ran down his spine, and he smiled.  

“Hopefully I can help them out a bit.”  They stepped from the greenhouse, the night feeling more chill than it had before.  “I really do need to get going, it really was nice meeting you Regina.” He turned to her and shook her hand again.  She returned his smile and waved as he took his leave of her.  

After retrieving his keys from the security officer he was back in his car and heading down the long road towards town.  All through the twenty-minute drive he went over what he would say to his class the next day, the headmaster had asked him to talk about his time in prison and afterall that was one of the reasons he had taken the job, but how do you tell kids about something like that.  After a while though his mind turned to more pleasantly mundane things, a lesson plan, interesting topics for lectures, what books to assign, they were nice thoughts from a life he thought was over.  By the time he was pulling into the parking lot of the motel the headmaster had recommended Lee Everett was feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time.

#twd #telltale's twd #clementine #lee everett #louis #marlo #ruby #fanfiction

[shippingtheswann]

FOOLS RUSH IN:

Summary: Emma Swan has been married since she was five years old. Under the old oak tree, she wed Killian Jones, her neighbor. Then, he moved away, but made one final promise, that one day he would marry her for real. See what happens when he returns to make good on his promise.

Fools Rush in Chapter Three

Start from the beginning here

A/N: Thanks to @captainswanbigbang​ for once again organizing an amazing event. I've been missing Captain Swan for the past year, and having this has helped so much! Thanks to Lana @high-seas-swan​ (go read her story NOW!) and Kaitlyn @spartanguard​ for their beta help. Go check out Lana's story when you get a moment as well – it's amazing! Thanks to Rachel @ladyciaramiggles​ for the art she has provided. Also, thanks to Kris @sambethe​ for the cover art for the story and for beta help.  All of you have made this story what it is!

I can't believe the amazing response I have gotten for the first two chapters! I really loved writing this chapter and I can't wait for you all to see things start to pick up! Reviews make me smile!

Emma was out of her element. She spent the entire day in a tizzy.

She didn't think when she agreed to this dinner that she would be like this. It was just a dinner after all. Just a dinner with a man whom she had dreamt about for years. Just a dinner with someone she held close, even if they had been far apart for decades.

Shit, she thought to herself. Maybe she wasn't ready for this. She initially thought she was. She was ready to see him again after all these years. She was ready to see if their friendship could still be there. She was ready to see if what she had for Killian Jones was more than just some fantasy that helped her pass the time. But now, she wasn't quite sure.

As she got ready that morning, wearing her normal Friday outfit of jeans, a white tee, and her red leather jacket, she could feel the nerves bubble up inside. It was starting to sink in that in less than 12 hours, she would be talking to Killian again. She began to wonder what his voice sounded like. She was pretty sure that Killian's once small but accented voice had disappeared, but what it sounded like now was a mystery. Was his voice deep and full of lust that most men had, or was it still light and airy? Did he still have the same accent, or did it change when he moved?

Henry yelling for her from down the hall pulled her from her thoughts for a while. When she kept busy, images and ideas of Killian disappeared. But when she had a moment to let her thoughts drift, they always drifted back to him.

She found herself in the teacher's lounge, pouring her third cup of coffee for the morning, thinking about the issues with the date. She had finally settled on calling it that on the car ride over.

Were they just going to ruin everything? Emma had spent years dreaming of what might happen if Killian came back into her life. The dreams ranged from them staying friends, to him saying he hated her and never wanted to see her again, to him declaring his undying love for her. What if the reality didn't match up to any of the dreams? What if she was let down by the interaction? What if she made up everything she remembered about him? They were only six, for God sakes, when they parted, and so much could have changed.

The night before, she had a dream about it. Because of that, that she knew it wouldn't be an easy day. She had almost canceled that morning because of that dream. She dreamt she walked into Granny's only to find their old booth empty. The booth that they once shared as children as their moms sat and graded papers was empty, just like her heart had been. She looked down at her watch and saw that she was early, so a bit of hope filled her chest. She sat down and watched the door like a hawk. Her breathing quickened each time the bell above the door jingled, her heart dropped each time it quieted and he hadn't walked through the door. She looked back down at her watch, only a minute had passed, yet it felt like hours. The dream continued like that for eternity. Finally, when she looked down at her watch and it showed 7, she gave up and left. As her dream left the diner, Emma jerked awake in a cold sweat.

Nightmares were supposed to be about what you feared most, what truly scared your conscious, and for Emma, that meant Killian not showing up, throwing away their flicker of a friendship, breaking her heart in two.

Her thoughts were non-stop. She couldn't help it. The fear of the unknown was pretty debilitating. So much so that she overfilled her coffee mug, coffee spilling onto her hand and across the counter. She didn't even hear David come in and come to her rescue.

"Jesus, Emma, be careful!" he exclaimed.

"Oh shit, sorry," she began, not even looking to see the mess she knew she had made.

Instead, she looked right at David, a small smile crossing her face.

In the few short years she had known David Nolan, he had made a drastic impact on her life. David had become the brother Emma never had, but so desperately wanted. He filled the hole Killian left, in his own special way. Yes, Mary Margaret was a great friend, but David was really her best friend; she would never say that to Mary Margaret, though.

While Mary Margaret was a sucker for romance, hope, and beauty, David was stuck in reality. He kept his wife grounded when she tended to float away in fantasy. But his wife also allowed him to dream a bit. Emma's personality matched David's more. She needed someone to tell her the honest truth sometimes. She needed someone who knew when to give her hope and when blunt honesty was needed, and David was just that guy.

"I haven't seen you this tense in a while. The last time was when you were putting in to foster Henry. Did something happen?" He questioned, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh no, Henry is great. I mean, of course the adoption agency didn't want to grant me the petition, but we are trying again. But no, I'm just out of it today," she lied.

She hadn't told the couple about her upcoming date. It wasn't that she didn't trust them. She knew neither one of them would make fun of her for saying yes to meeting him again. Hell, both of them had been encouraging her for years to reach out and truly talk to him. Sure, Mary Margaret's encouragement was littered with questions about Emma's love life, but she was still supportive and just wanted to see Emma happy.

She hadn't told them simply because she was so unsure about what it all meant. She was already scared that she was getting her hopes up by thinking about all that could happen. She didn't want to add in their hope as well. She knew Mary Margaret would be overwhelming with positivity and excitement. She didn't want to have to let her down if things didn't go well.

Emma laughed at herself, finding it funny that in that moment she was more concerned about her friend's feelings about the date than her own. But the laugh wasn't as quiet as she thought it was.

"What?" David questioned.

"I'll tell you later," she replied, hoping that it would end the conversation. She didn't want to tell them anything until there was something to tell, and Emma knew if she told David, Mary Margaret would know within minutes. Plus, she needed to get out of there and wash off before going to class.

"OK, but whatever is going on, Emma, stop worrying. I know that's what you are doing; I've known you for long enough now. Everything will work out in the end," he said, reaching for Emma's slightly burnt hand and giving it a squeeze.

Emma smiled at him as he let go and walked out of the lounge, leaving Emma to quickly clean up her mess and get ready for the first class of the day.

Her Fridays were always pretty chill. Most of her students would agree that Emma was the best teacher in the science department. She never took life too seriously, made the kids laugh, and took the time to really get to know them. She wasn't super strict, but the kids knew not to cross her. They always had the same schedule in her class. Fridays, after they took a test, was a review day, where they went over the test they had just taken. However, it wasn't like a normal review, Emma turned it into a game, so that the kids wouldn't feel so bad about getting some things wrong.

The problem was that she allowed the kids a bit too much freedom with the review game. They ran everything, while she sat back and refereed.

The game was distracting a bit, but little things would bring her back to thinking about the night to come. For example, one of her students, a boy that was friends with Henry named Avery, started talking about his mom and dad having their "date night" when another asked if he could get on and play Call of Duty later. Of course, the word date set her off. Her palms became sweaty, the words her students were saying began to be drowned out by a weird buzzing sound, and her eyesight was too focused. She wasn't paying attention to what anyone was doing. She was so zoned out that she didn't even see one of her students, Gideon, trip another, on his way to the board.

Even after that incident, she still couldn't help but focus on what may happen. During her second period class, she found herself literally in a daydream. She didn't want to let it happen, especially after the previous dream, but her mind was a creature of its own.

All around her, the classroom disappeared, and the inside of Granny's appeared. It was so real, that she thought she could hear the grill in the back. She saw him sitting with his back towards her. She knew it was him because of his hair. That hair that she had memorized from pictures. Sure, most of the pictures she saw of him were from the front, but she was pretty sure she had the correct picture of the back in her mind. She swore she could even smell the shampoo he used - or at least that she thought he would use, the scent was just right for him. As she began to see herself walk forward towards him, she felt a rush of emotions. It was a complete out of body experience. Her heart began to beat faster and she couldn't tell if she was walking slower or faster. She began to turn towards Killian, but before anything could happen, a yell pulled her from her dream.

"Miss Swan, tell him I'm right!" she heard one of her students say.

She quickly regained composure and went back to work.

The rest of the day went about the same, except for her planning period right before lunch. She knew it would be the hardest part of the day. She would be completely alone with her thoughts. She didn't have any real work to do for school. Her year had been planned out, her tests had been graded, and she was caught up on all the assignments that had been submitted. Normally, she loved her planning periods. She would get on Netflix, binge watch The Office or Bob's Burgers, and just relax while eating her lunch, but today, not even Michael Scott's antics could distract her.

Without wanting it to happen, she was back in that daydream from before. Her mind picked right back up where it left off.

She was walking slowly towards the back booth. Everything around her seemed so real. She could hear Granny yelling at a customer. It made her smile. Granny's yelling always came from a place of love. She didn't yell at you if she didn't love you. She saw Ashley behind the counter, wiping it down after her daughter had made a mess of the area with her chocolate cake. Her focus though came back to that booth. As if she didn't have to move at all, the floor pulled her towards him. She reached out to touch him, but decided against it. She didn't want to startle him, and she also didn't think she could handle what he felt like. Would his shoulder be hard? He looked to be in shape, so it would probably feel so good under her palm.

Instead, her daydream decided to just sit down. As she turned, she took in the sight in front of her.

And just like that, what seemed like a lovely version of her nightmare, she was thrust back into her fears.

The man who sat in front of her transformed. All of a sudden he wasn't in shape. He wasn't what his profile picture shown. He was the 6 year old who had left her all those years ago. He had tears in his eyes. His hair unruly and unkept. He was skinnier than he was when he left, which is saying something, since he was a scrawny kid to begin with.

"Killian?" she said.

"Emma? Why didn't you stay my friend?" he questioned, the tears began to run down his face.

"Ummm…" she was so confused about what was going on.

"Why didn't you care?" the ghost asked her.

Emma was stunned. Why was he asking her these things? It didn't stop. After she didn't answer him, he kept asking the same questions, or similar ones. Why didn't she call, why didn't she keep writing, why didn't she follow him, why didn't she reach out more, why didn't she want more, why didn't she do something?

Her heart began to beat faster, she couldn't find the words to tell him the truth. She felt the guilt bubbling up inside. Was she the real reason they were where they were?

The bell for lunch rang, pulling Emma back out of her dream. She didn't realize she had fallen asleep. At least it wasn't the first time she had fallen asleep at her desk after a restless night stemming from bad dreams.

As she headed down to the teacher's lounge, she had to think about the dream. First, what if he didn't look like his pictures showed? What if those were old pictures and he was really different? She knew he wasn't catfishing her; he spoke to her in a way only Killian ever did. But, still, what if he looked completely different? She didn't think she would hate him, she didn't think she would be angry, but she may be disappointed.

But really, she was worried that he was going to question why she stopped their friendship. She was petrified that he was going to blame her for everything that happened. All the questions that she was being asked in the dream, she knew she should be asking him. She did try—she tried so hard to keep him in her life. It killed her how much the discommunication hurt. She tried to write, she tried to call, and she begged her parents time and time again to send her with him. She fought as hard as she could for them.

Did he fight for her? Something in her wanted to spend the dinner tonight grilling him about that. She wanted to demand answers for all those questions that she cried over. But, at the same time, she didn't want to blame him. She knows that life had been hard for him, and that she couldn't blame him for a child's actions. She had gotten over the anger and hurt ages ago.

As she entered the teacher's lounge she was thankful that it was lunch. Lunches on Fridays at the school were always loud and a good distraction. The school had won a prize the year before, so every Friday a nice lunch was purchased for the teachers as a thank you. So, the lounge was packed with almost every teacher lined up to get a plate of tamales.

Her coworkers were pretty talkative, so her mind stayed distracted which was welcomed. She only hoped the rest of the day stayed that way.

She was also thankful that Mary Margaret wasn't at lunch today. She had lunch duty, which meant instead of a catered meal, she would be walking around the cafeteria making sure the students didn't get into too much trouble. Of course, that meant that David had joined her as well. So, she instead sat with Elsa, the Home Ec teacher, and Belle, the librarian.

Emma used to say she didn't have many friends. It used to be just Killian, but when he moved, she was forced to come out of her shell a bit more. Ruby was the first, followed by Lily a few years later. Eventually, she really developed a knack for making friends. People tended to migrate towards her since she knew how to be honest with people without making them feel like shit. They knew Emma would tell them how it is, but in a supportive and loving way.

She was also lucky in that her other friends she developed over the years never abandoned her the way Killian did. Ok, maybe she was still angry at him for that. She had other friends move away, and they never treated her the way Killian did. She still was in pretty good contact with Lily, a friend she made in the third grade who then moved when they were in the eighth grade. Lily understood her in a way no one else did. Both of them were essentially orphans. Yet, Lily wasn't as luck as Emma had been. Emma was adopted, and Lily had bounced around foster homes their entire friendship.

Elsa, who Emma had met last year on the other's first day, understood Emma as well. Emma was pretty sure if she told Elsa about Killian, Elsa would understand Emma's emotions.

Elsa and her younger sister Anna, who worked at the local day care, had been orphaned when their parents died in a car crash when they were younger. And while they were almost immediately adopted by their aunt, they still understood the fear that every orphaned child has: that eventually, everyone would leave them.

That was the root of the reason Killian's absence hurt her so much. She had been actively abandoned by her birth parents. Yes, she had the best adoptive parents a girl could ask for. Yes, she was so thankful for them and the love they gave her. But, in the back of her mind, she always wondered if she was worth it, since she clearly wasn't worth it to her birth parents.

So of course, Emma found herself thinking the same thing sometimes when she thought about Killian. She knew it was far from the truth—that he would never purposefully abandon her. He would never purposefully walk away from their friendship without a good reason. Yet, when she felt depressed, she couldn't help but think that way.

For a brief moment, she did almost ask Elsa to talk. But, the blonde looked so excited to be talking about the upcoming school musical that she was helping to costume that Emma didn't want to interrupt.

She listened intently to the conversation the duo was having. She listened to how Elsa was worried that the kids would mess up the costumes, especially since she had some troublemaking boys in her sixth period home ec class. She listened to how she almost got into a fight with Mr. Gold, the principal, over budget.

Belle blushed a bit when his name was mentioned. Emma had a feeling that Belle had a crush on their boss. A few times during staff meetings, Emma had caught Belle outright ogling him. It was actually kinda cute. Sure, Emma didn't get along well with the guy, and sure most of the school called him "the Beast," but Belle did seem to calm him down when she was in the room. If Emma had to guess, she would say that Gold had a crush on Belle as well. Why else would he insist on staff meetings in the library when the theater or cafeteria would work so much better?

When lunch came to an end, Emma said goodbye to her friends and headed back to her classroom. She was now excited to get back to teaching. It didn't dawn on her till that moment, but she hadn't really thought about Killian when she was listening to Elsa and Belle. Thinking about someone else's love life was actually helping her.

That was the best thing about teaching in middle school, she thought sarcastically, there was always a new love story. So that was her goal. She was gonna find some middle school drama to help distract her mind.

Her next class was Henry's. She was so thankful to see her son. While she may not be his adoptive mother yet, she saw him as her son. No matter what, she wanted him to feel that he belonged.

"Hey kid, how's it going?" she asked as the class settled into their movie. Henry's class was a bit different than the rest of her classes. She saw them every day, but for longer. She had them for two periods, back to back. They were her advanced class. So, they had already reviewed the test. So, as a prize for actually doing well on the test and for finishing the review quickly earlier in the week, she let them watch Jurassic Park.

"Pretty good; it's been a long day though. Steve and Nancy are fighting again, it's all they do recently. Robin and Tilly got back together again, which is nice," he started. Henry knew that Emma didn't always like to hear about the gossip that was happening at Storybrooke middle school, but he also knew that some of the gossip could help her as a teacher.

She listened to him for a few minutes. However, he realized that she wasn't paying full attention, which was weird for her.

"Mom, what's going on?" he asked.

She smiled to herself. First, she loved that he called her mom. He normally didn't do it in class, as he didn't want to keep bringing attention to the fact he was the teacher's kid. Secondly, she loved it cause even though the adoption didn't go through, and even though they have hit roadblock after roadblock, he still say her in the same light she saw him.

"It's a long story," she said.

"Well, I think we have time," he smiled, nodding his head towards the class of students enthralled with the movie.

She giggled a bit before beginning her story.

"Well, when I was really young I had a best friend named Killian. We were neighbors and Grandma was best friends with his mom, too. We did literally everything together. We even got married when we were five. But, abruptly, he had to move to Ireland. We tried to keep in touch for a while, but we lost contact. We've been friends on Facebook for a while and out of the blue, he messaged me and said he was back in town and wanted to meet for dinner. I said yes, and we are meeting tonight," she explained.

"And you're nervous, right?" he asked, already knowing the answer. Henry could read her like a book.

"A little; I haven't seen him in over 20 years. I'm not too sure what to expect," she answered.

"Why did he move away?"

"Well, I didn't know at first, none of us knew. Well, we didn't know. Grandma and the other adults did, they just didn't tell us. Turns out his father had left them and his mother wanted to chase after him," she recalled.

"That sucks. Why didn't he ever come back?" he asked. Emma hated reliving that day and the emotions that surrounded his leaving.

"I found out later that his mom got really sick after they moved. She passed away. I think that is why he stopped writing to me. He didn't have her around to help him write the letters. I'm not really sure what happened to him. I friended him on MySpace and Facebook, but nothing on there answered my questions as to why he stayed in Ireland or what happened to his family," she explained.

"So, are you going to ask him that?" she loved how Henry read her mind.

"Actually, that is what I have been wrestling with all day," she began. "I am not sure if I want to bring it up or not. I think I deserve an explanation, but at the same time, I want to just put the past behind us and be friends again."

She knew most parents didn't talk to their kids like this, but their relationship was different. She didn't want to hide things from Henry. She didn't want to force any type of relationship on him. Instead she thought she would let parenting come out through time and honest interactions. In truth, she was more like a big sister to him than a mother, but still had those mothering instincts with him.

"Sounds confusing," he added.

"It is. The whole thing is," she agreed.

"Well, I would want to know why if it was me. Just ask him. What's there to lose?" he pondered.

The kid was right. There wasn't much to lose by her really laying it all on the line. It's not like she and Killian had a real friendship to begin with. Sure, the foundation was there, the one they had built years earlier, but nothing else had been built. If she asked him and he refused to answer, or if he gave her some bullshit, then she wouldn't be at a loss.

"Well, I think that's enough insight into my strange life," she said. "Tell me about Violet."

She saw Henry blush at the name. She knew bringing up his own schoolboy crush would help her a bit. She knew it would provide her with a distraction.

It was a great distraction and before she knew it, the day was over. She had watched and listened as Henry tried not to go all gooey over his girlfriend who sat a few rows ahead of them, focus on the movie. Emma liked Violet enough—she was pretty, smart, independent, but respectful and kind. She just hoped that Violet wouldn't hold him to Storybrooke.

As it was with most small towns, many who grew up here, got boyfriends or girlfriends in middle school, stayed with them all of high school, and never left town because of them. Emma only left for college, and she was lucky. She didn't want Henry to live that way, though; she wanted him to go out and explore the world.

Now she only had to find a way to make it another three hours.

She wasn't planning on changing. She was already prepared for the date. While she may have decided that it was a date, she didn't want to go all out and look like she had that idea. She wanted to be casual. She didn't want to seem too eager or too excited, even though she was.

When she got home, she thought of something that might calm her down.

She went straight for her bedroom, not stopping for her after school snack, aka a glass of wine.

She bent down to the foot of her bed, felt around, and gave a tug. A large storage box came sliding towards her. Inside was a collection of diaries. She had been journaling since the year Killian stopped writing.

Now, they weren't traditional journals: she didn't start each entry with Dear Diary or finished them xoxo, but they were a collection of her thoughts. She wrote down quotes, and jotted down quick lists of things that happened that were worth her remembering. Some pictures were taped inside, too.

It had been years since she looked at them. She still kept a journal, but she rarely reread them. She was inspired by her mother to keep them, actually.

"Who knows, maybe one day you can pass them along to your daughter and she can get to know you a little better," she heard her mother say in her head.

She started with the very first one, a small little book that had a cover only a six year old girl could love. Inside were a collection of drawings and small notes, written in poor handwriting and even worse spelling.

She smiled at the book as she continued to flip the pages.

There were a couple of drawings of her and Killian, a few of the family dog, even more of princesses and unicorns, but what she settled on for a few moments was one she didn't draw.

It was an actual photo of herself and Alice. She didn't even remember the photo being taken or that she had it. Emma must have only been two or three in the picture. She was sitting on Alice's lap, with the woman's arms wrapped around her small body. She was giving Emma a kiss on the cheek and Emma's smile was so large that it was contagious.

As Emma continued to look at the photo her eyes filled with tears.

She knew that without Alice, none of this would have happened. She would have never met Killian, never became friends with him. She would never have had a second mom, or someone who made her smile when she wasn't getting along with her real mom. She would have never had some of the happiest moments in her life.

For so long, she had been angry with her. She was angry at a woman for following the man she loved, when Emma would have done the same thing given the chance.

In that moment, looking down at the picture, she knew she was no longer angry at Killian. If Emma had known about Alice all those years ago, or if the situation had been reversed, she probably would have done the same thing he did.

She looked at the clock and noticed the time; if she wanted to be on time, she needed to leave within a few minutes. She didn't want to keep Killian waiting, or herself; she had waited too long for this moment.

#CSBB #Captain Swan Big Bang #Captain Swan #captain swan fanfiction #CS FF

[lancetuckershairgel]

The Family Secret: A Superfamily AU

Eleanor deals with confusing emotions and finds a friend in the new boy at school when they meet in study hall. MJ and Eleanor discuss what to do about Steve’s secret and Loki asks Eleanor out for coffee. 

The next day I tried to put all of my emotions aside and distract myself with school. I clearly wasn’t doing as good of a job as I thought because after History MJ cornered me.

“What is going on with you?” she asked, her hands on her hips

“What?” I shrugged, feigning innocence

“Peter said you haven’t ate anything in like two days, you haven’t spoke to him, you’re completely ignoring Thor”

“Thor? Who’s Thor?” I asked

“The new guy. You know, tall, blond, muscular, perfect?” MJ rolled her eyes “He’s been trying to get your attention all day”

“Oh. His name’s Thor, really?” I scrunched up my nose

“Yeah, I told you that yesterday. Seriously, what is going on?”

“Nothing. My dad’s away for work, you know how I get when he’s gone”

“I’ve never seen you this bad though. Is everything ok?”

“Honestly, I don’t know” I sighed

“You want to talk about it later?” MJ asked

“Maybe.”

That wasn’t a lie, I needed to talk to someone about what I found. I didn’t know if I could talk to Tony, which meant I couldn't tell Peter. The kid couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it and the last thing I wanted was for him to run his mouth to his dad, who would then run his to mine. I didn’t want Dad to have to deal with work and this too, and I hadn’t figured out what I was going to say when he got home.

“Remember we have volleyball practice after school” MJ said as the bell rang

I walked to study hall, where I found an empty table in the back and sat down. I pulled out a notebook and pen but didn’t write anything.

“Is this seat taken” an accented voice asked

I looked up to see that the dark haired new kid was standing over me, pointing to the seat across from me.

“No, go ahead” I said

He nodded and sat down, pulling out a textbook. I glanced over at him and considered my options. I could keep thinking about my current problem or I could try to be nice to him.

“You’re new here” I said

“Yes, it appears that I am” he murmured as he turned the page

“Where did you move here from?” I asked, hoping to pinpoint his accent

“Workshire” He said dully

“Ah” I said

There was silence as he continued to read his textbook. I looked back down at the blank page of my notebook, trying to remember which class I needed to make notes for.

“What’s your name?” he asked

I looked up and saw that he wasn’t looking back at me. I raised an eyebrow.

“Eleanor.” I answered “Yours?”

“Loki.”

“Loki?” I squeaked out which caused someone at a table nearby to shush me

“Yes.” He looked up at me then “Loki.”

“Is Thor...your brother?” I assumed

Loki sighed

“That’s what I’ve been told”

“Thor and Loki.” I said amused “Alright”

“Our parents have a thing for Norse mythology”

“I see that”

I had laughed, but Loki didn’t seem amused. I was sure he got comments a lot about their names so I let it go.

“How do you like New York City?” I asked him

“It’s a city.” he shrugged “I don’t prefer it but I don’t have a choice”

“What type of setting do you prefer?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He mused “Anywhere I’m alone”

“Oh. I’ll stop bothering you then.”

He sighed and closed the textbook. He looked up at me and his green eyes had a glint in them that made them shine.

“Don’t” he said softly

“Huh?” I wrinkled my brow

“I apologize.” he said “I meant be away from my family. I don’t mind talking to you”

“Why don’t you want to be with your family?”

“It’s a long story.” he said, pushing a strand of his black hair behind his ear

“I have time.”

“Before moving here my father told me that I am adopted.”

“Oh.” I blinked

“Since then things haven’t been great. I had always felt different from my brother, and my father and I haven’t always had the best relationship, but I was still shocked.”

“I understand.” I said, my mind returning to the discovery I made “I am going through something similar, I think”

“You think?” he asked

“That’s also a long story” I said

“I have time” he smiled

I returned the smile and before I knew it I was telling him the entire story about my birth certificate. He sat back and was speechless for a moment once I had finished. I waited for a reaction.

“I’m sorry” he said “I cannot imagine what you must feel right now”

“So many questions” I said

He nodded

“Hey, listen Loki” I sat forward “I haven’t told anyone about this, and I don’t really want my brother knowing”

“I understand. Your secret is safe with me” he smiled again

“Thank you”

The bell rang and we both looked slightly sad about study hall being over. Neither of us actually studied but it had felt nice to be able to talk to someone else about our problems.

“It was nice talking to you Eleanor” Loki asked

“Same to you, Loki” I smiled at him

We parted ways and I went about my day. Having told Loki about what was going on made me feel a little bit better, even if I still didn’t have any answers. I also still didn’t know what to do about talking to Tony.

After volleyball practice MJ insisted she go home with me so we could work on math homework together, but once we were in my room I realized that was not what she had intended to do.

“So?” she said as soon as the door was closed

“So?” I repeated

“You and Loki?” she grinned

“What?” I blinked

“I saw you talking to him in study hall. Looked like a deep conversation”

“Oh that. It was nothing, we were just talking” I defended myself

“Uh-huh” she was still grinning

I threw a pillow at her and she caught it before she sat down in the saucer chair.

“So why have you been all grumpy lately?”

“Oh right, that.”

I pulled the birth certificate out of my desk drawer and sat on my bed. I explained everything to MJ and when I was done her mouth was open.

“Right?” I said

“So what, did Steve kidnap you as a baby and run away with you or something?” MJ asked

“Run away from Brooklyn to Midtown?” I rolled my eyes “I don’t think so.”

“Then who’s the guy on your birth certificate?”

“No idea.”

“Dude.”

“Yep.”

“Have you told Tony? Or Peter?”

“I don’t think I’m going to.” I admitted “Not right now anyway.”

“You’re going to ask Steve about it, right?”

“I don’t know”

We discussed things more before finally starting on our math homework. Soon after Peter was summoning us for dinner, and after an awkwardly quiet meal, MJ went home.

The next day I was happy to see Loki in study hall again. He asked how I was feeling and we talked the entire time. After the bell rang he offered to walk me to my next class, since his was a few rooms over. We walked together, deep in conversation about the type of books we liked to read, and ignored the glances and stares we got from the other kids in the hallway.

“I would love to talk to you more.” Loki said as we stopped in front of my classroom

“I’d like that.” I said

“Would you care to join me after school for coffee?”

“I would love to but I have volleyball practice until four thirty” I said sadly

“I will wait for you” Loki said matter of factly, then turned on his heel and walked away

“Alright then”

After school I went to the gym. I didn’t see Loki so I went into the locker room to change. When I went onto the court I ran up to MJ who began nudging me in the side and nodding toward the bleachers. I looked up and saw Loki sitting at the top, reading a novel.

“Wow he was serious” I said in amazement

“What?” MJ asked

“He asked me to have coffee with him, he said he’d wait until practice was over”

“Awww” MJ said sarcastically and made a disgusted face, fake gagging.

“Shut up, it’s not like that. We’re just friends” I exclaimed

“Sure. A friend you have a date with”

“It’s not a date! Oh my god!” I waved my hands in the air “Besides, you know I’m not allowed to date”

“Uh huh, your fake dad doesn’t approve” MJ rolled her eyes

“Dude not cool” I said, hurt

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I know it’s a sensitive subject.”

“It’s ok”

I knew MJ wasn’t trying to hurt my feelings, but it struck a nerve that Steve very well couldn’t be my real dad like I had always thought. I went through volleyball practice occasionally glancing up at Loki. He was still reading his book, not seeming to pay attention to practice. The next time I looked up at him, someone on the opposite side of our scrimmage spiked the ball directly at me and it smacked me right in the side of my face.

“Ow!” I exclaimed as I rubbed my cheek

“Dude are you ok?” MJ said as my teammates gathered around me, some laughing

“I’m fine” I said

I looked back to the stands and had hoped Loki hadn’t seen the accident but he was looking right at me, his brow furrowed in concern. I shot him a thumbs up as my cheeks reddened in embarrassment. After practice the coach reminded us of the game we had Thursday and we were dismissed. I hurried to the locker room to change and rushed out the door.

“Not a date” MJ helpfully reminded me with a laugh

I turned around and hit my fists together, something we did to each other after we saw Ross do it on Friends. She waved me out the door and I went to meet up with Loki for our not-a-date coffee.

#Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #Peter Parker #Superfamily #fan fiction #rated: teen #Loki

[tannie-bell]

100 Questions!

thanks to the lovely @chioo92 for sending this my way~! 💕💕💕

edit: putting this under read more bc it’s looooong 😂😂

1. What is you middle name?

Elizabeth

2. How old are you?

18

3. What is your birthday?

october 16

4. What is your zodiac sign?

libra

5. What is your favorite color?

in general black, but i do really like teal and deep greens

6. What’s your lucky number?

i don't really have one, but i like 13 and 16 and 3116

7. Do you have any pets?

yep! two dogs~

8. Where are you from?

a little italian town in the lower half of illinois

9. How tall are you?

technically 5' 1&¾". please feel free to round up to 5'2"

10. What shoe size are you?

depends on the brand, mostly between 8 and 9 u.s. sizes—they have to be wide though, or i have to get bigger sizes and just deal with the looseness 😅

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

i think 8?? but i only actually wear like 4

12. What was your last dream about?

in the last dream i *actually* remember, i was a character from my wip and she was with her husband in like this cozy, dim-lit room filled with furs and ancient pieces and neat stuff and she was moderately pregnant so i just remember feeling so warm and loved inside. looking back it's kind of weird bc i've never been pregnant or in love romantically, but it's still heartwarming

13. What talents do you have?

um, I bake well i think 😂 so far i haven't had any bad feedback...😅

14. Are you psychic in any way?

nope.

15. Favorite song?

gaaaaaaah why is this always so hard mikrokosmos ~ bts or lucid dream ~ monogram

16. Favorite movie?

singin' in the rain, howl's moving castle, moana, all mcu movies i've seen so far

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

someone who shares my beliefs/morals and who supports my passions/interests (and i would do the same for him). has a few quirks he needs a few to survive me lol and is musical, respectful, and romantic. also has a sense of humor i appreciate and vice versa. there are other qualities, but that's the gist 😂

18. Do you want children?

yes! not necessarily biological though, i am very open to adoption

19. Do you want a church wedding?

most likely yes

20. Are you religious?

it depends on your definition of religious. in the sense of believing in a particular faith/religion, then yes

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

yes 😫

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

nope!

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

if you count the drummer from a now-disbanded band, then yes 

24. Baths or showers?

showers most times

25. What color socks are you wearing?

plain white—they're extra thick ones though! 😁

26. Have you ever been famous?

in what sense? 😂 locally or within a specific community of people, then i think so??

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

nope. i used to dream about what it would be like, but i seriously value my privacy and i would feel like i had none if i was famous

28. What type of music do you like?

pretty much anything and everything—except country 😅😂

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

nope...

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

three

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

this weird twisted position on my side. it usually ends with my shoulders hurting 😅😅

32. How big is your house?

it's decently large, but we just updated our tiny two bedroom, one bathroom house (for five people for 15+ years 😳) to a five bed, two bath with an open living area/dining room/kitchen. we made it big enough to accommodate both sides of my family around the holidays (bc we have a decently large family that's only growing 😂)

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

cereal or a fruit smoothie with either coffee or black tea (preferably earl grey) assuming i even eat breakfast

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

not yet, but i would eventually like to! thinking about a concealed carry permit as well depending on circumstances

35. Have you ever tried archery?

yess, and i love it!! it always makes me feel like some woodland elf heroine or something 😂

36. Favorite clean word?

like just regular words? pretty much any soft-sounding, flowy word with l’s, like melody or lucent

37. Favorite swear word?

i don't swear so none

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

like 36-ish hours

39. Do you have any scars?

yep

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

...not that I'm aware of??

41. Are you a good liar?

.....i do my best to be honest, but.....i can be....😅 just don't tell my mom

42. Are you a good judge of character?

i think so? i'm not going to be right 100% obviously, but most of the time i think i am

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

yeah, but they're not very good 😂

44. Do you have a strong accent?

depends on where you're from tbh

45. What is your favorite accent?

i reeeaaally like australian accents...

46. What is your personality type?

INFP-T

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

a top and skirt set someone i know bought for a wedding and never wore again. i think she paid $100+ for it?? so i got it for nothing which was amazing

48. Can you curl your tongue?

yep!

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

innie~

50. Left or right handed?

right~

51. Are you scared of spiders?

most of the time no

52. Favorite food?

i'm just gonna go with italian beef with mozzarella bc it always sounds good

53. Favorite foreign food?

ramen, bingsu, turkish delight, gulab jamun, and this one chicken rice dish that i have no idea what it's called but it's a.maz.ing.

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

in general? clean. my room? the best way to describe it is definitely-not-so-organized chaos

55. Most used phrase?

oh my goodness or oh my word

56. Most used word?

like or eyyy

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

......depends. literally anywhere from 5 to 45+ mins...

58. Do you have much of an ego?

i don't think so

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

both

60. Do you talk to yourself?

if i didn't i'd go insane

61. Do you sing to yourself?

^ see above

62. Are you a good singer?

i'm decent if my vocal chords are warmed up enough 😂

63. Biggest Fear?

failing/disappointing others. that and falling from heights

64. Are you a gossip?

no. i do my best not to be, anyway

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

i literally don't know what's considered dramatic anymore

66. Do you like long or short hair?

for my hair? long

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

give me a piece of paper and a pen and yeah 😂

68. Favorite school subject?

english and music

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

introvert~

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

nope

71. What makes you nervous?

being put on the spot

72. Are you scared of the dark?

not really, but it also depends on where i'm at and who's around

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

if it's one of my really close friends I'll jokingly correct their grammar, but that's it

74. Are you ticklish?

.......sometimes.

75. Have you ever started a rumor?

no

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

a couple times, yeah

77. Have you ever drank underage?

no

78. Have you ever done drugs?

no

79. Who was your first real crush?

this one kid when i was like four or five. his name is tyler. he actually just got married! random i know

80. How many piercings do you have?

none

81. Can you roll your Rs?”

no 😥

82. How fast can you type?

not terribly

83. How fast can you run?

slower than my 70 lb. dog

84. What color is your hair?

dark brown with some blonde and red hints

85. What color is your eyes?

dark chocolate so brown

86. What are you allergic to?

pollen 😥 i think i also have oral allergy syndrome (but that's purely self-diagnosed 😂), so there's that too

87. Do you keep a journal?

i have the past couple weeks for a class, but otherwise no

88. What do your parents do?

my mom is a nurse and my dad is a letter carrier

89. Do you like your age?

ehh, ish

90. What makes you angry?

things taken out of context of conversations, situations, etc. and twisted to portray something else entirely

91. Do you like your own name?

yes~

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

yes! these are just some of my favorites

for girls: lacie everest, elizabeth marie, roselyn chae (or chaela rose)

for boys: vincent alexandre, killian gray, quinton james

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

both~!

94. What are you strengths?

um....i'm very musical 😂

95. What are your weaknesses?

i procrastinate too much and i don't really know how to work on a project with a group

96. How did you get your name?

my mom knew someone with the name (but they shortened it). she later found out that my dad's great- or great-great-grandmother had the same name

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

like seeeeeeeeveral hundred years back, but yes

98. Do you have any scars?

some

99. Color of your bedspread?

off-white/cream and a purple-y maroon

100. Color of your room?

off-white/cream

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

not tagging anyone bc this is like super long 😂😂 if you see this and want to fill it out, go ahead! you brave soul  😂

#thank you~!! #gtkm #if you read the whole thing #i admire your tenacity

[newstechreviews]

Arguably—or maybe even inarguably—the spirit of a movie counts more than any objective ideal of quality. You can’t inject a soul into a movie in the editing room; it’s either got one or it doesn’t. There are people who have been waiting nearly 30 years for Bill & Ted Face the Music, the follow-up to Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure (1989) and Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey (1991), and there are people who haven’t been waiting at all. But what people want from Bill & Ted Face the Music matters a lot less than what it actually is, a crazy, imperfect but deeply gratifying burst of optimism at the end of what has been—inarguably—a terrible summer. Its ramshackle earnestness, its certainty about nothing beyond the fact that we need to get our act together as human beings, is its great strength.

Alex Winter and Keanu Reeves were in their mid-twenties when they first played Bill Preston and Ted Logan, a duo of goofy but open-hearted teenage guitar obsessives from San Dimas, Calif., who change the world—and pass a history class—via a time-travel machine disguised as a phone booth. In the first movie, they meet the 15th-century princesses who will become their wives, Joanna and Elizabeth; in the second, they outwit Death in a game of Twister. At the very beginning, they were told that their fairly lame band, Wyld Stallyns, would end up making music so great that it would foster a future utopian society. But as Bill & Ted Face the Music opens, Bill and Ted, well into middle age and still noodling around with their guitars, have not yet produced any game-changing toonz. And although they’re married to their beloved princesses (here played by Erinn Hayes and Jayma Mays), there’s apparently a bit of trouble in suburban paradise: both couples have signed up for couples counseling, and because Bill and Ted can’t envision doing anything independently of one another, they make it a group affair. Their identities are so entwined, even as they push 50, that they haven’t really figured out how to be adults.

Read More: Why It Took Keanu Reeves 30 Years to Become an Overnight Sensation

They and their wives have, however, produced two lovely teenage daughters: Billie (Brigette Lundy-Paine) and Thea (Samara Weaving) are named after their dads, and they take after them, too. Thea has a slouchy gait and a curtain of floppy dark hair; Billie is blond and effervescent, a spring of nervous energy coiled within her. The young women are best friends, just as their dads are. And they’re dismayed when they find out their fathers are in trouble: A messenger from another world, Kelly (Kristen Schaal), touches down in a giant egg to whisk Bill and Ted into what has turned out to be a not-so-utopian future. She’s the daughter of Rufus, the time-traveling emissary played in the earlier movies by the late, great George Carlin (who appears here briefly in hologram form). And it turns out that her mother, Rufus’ widow—played by Holland Taylor in a fabulously imperious sparkle cape—has some dire news for Bill and Ted: because they have not yet produced the song that will change the world, reality as we know it will end in 77 minutes and 25 seconds. Which is pretty much, at that point, the movie’s remaining runtime.

Orion PicturesBrigette Lundy-Paine and Samara Weaving, flanking Kid Cudi, play Bill and Ted’s teenage daughters.

How do they pull it off? The answer involves time travel, of course, but also Jimi Hendrix, Louis Armstrong, a killer robot named Dennis Caleb McCoy, the mythological Chinese flautist Ling Lun, and Death (once again played by the marvelous William Sadler). The princess wives and, especially, Billie and Thea also play key roles: The girls believe so wholeheartedly in their dads, including their not-quite-proven ability to make music, that they jump in to help, proving that the next generation is ready and able to take the reins.

Bill & Ted Face the Music is a cosmic swirl of a movie, as unapologetically ridiculous as its predecessors were. The script is by Chris Matheson and Ed Solomon, who wrote the two earlier movies and created the characters of Bill and Ted; the scenarios they’ve cooked up here grow more outlandish by the minute, which is part of the fun. The director is Dean Parisot, and what he, his writers and his actors have pulled off here is so positively nutso, and so sweet-spirited, that he deserves his own statue in a utopian movie future. Parisot also directed the extraordinary 1999 science-fiction/fantasy spoof Galaxy Quest, which has become a cult classic for a reason. Bill & Ted Face the Music doesn’t have the same glorious comedic ebb and flow of that film, though it does have a similarly generous beating heart.

Orion PicturesWilliam Sadler plays Death.

And that, again, is something no movie can fake. The Bill & Ted movies, including this one, work because Winter and Reeves have always taken these not-very-serious characters seriously. As teenagers, Bill and Ted were daffy and joyous, innocently horny but also unfailingly gallant, kind of dumb but intuitive in all the ways that count. Winter’s Bill still has that goofball electric energy; Reeves’ Ted is more laid back, and more philosophical. Yet there’s something piercing about seeing them now as middle-aged guys who haven’t been able to pull off everything they once dreamed of—they’ve aged well, physically, but even so, their zest for life has flagged. It happens to almost everyone.

Still, things could be worse. The plot of Bill & Ted Face the Music introduces us to future would-be versions of Bill and Ted who aren’t quite so nice: In one scene, they’re bulked-up prison inmates, tattooed and pissed off; in another, they’re paunchy rock stars who have adopted phony, Madonna-style British accents. These sour versions of Bill and Ted are so implausible that they’re hilarious—Winter and Reeves run with them, delight in them. The time-travel conceit of Bill & Ted Face the Music allows these characters to reflect on a lesser reality that might have been, had they and their families not intervened. And they shape the future by remembering the contributions of those who made the best of the past. Bill & Ted Face the Music is the feel-good movie of this infinite time loop, and the next. And although it’s pure fantasy, it also represents a leap of faith we all have to be willing to take. Even without time-travel phone booths, people have the power.

#Blogger

[driftwork]

rain this one, sunshine

It took years to write this, this i imagine is the [...] There is a wind running into shore from the sea, it sounds like the first line of a new chapter, a new section bringing us back to life from the brink. Perhaps we are reacting slightly, shivering or at leas hiding from the  burning ultra violet light. It's like an awful roman fleuve  that is trying to swallow us whole,  to place us in an impossible world. History as been written out of existence, its merely an illusion. Here we are in the breeze,  sitting in the shade. A solitary burst of photons, UVa, is enough to unlock being,  to unlock the day,  some glassy particles of sand fly up from the beach towards us,  the high pitched noise of the particles in the air is the secret accompaniment of life itself. Light bouncing off the particles delineates the day itself, announcing the event, a ship crashing into the shore, containers spilling off the ship and ending up hanging in space, light passing through the gaps in a straw hat, a child looks horrified as sheets of paper fly through the air,  a translucent dress made see through by the light pressed against a woman is suddenly grey and flesh colored to every atom of its non-being. Here then let's remember that reported speech is inherently unreliable. Meanings runaway from the speaker and reader. The noise inherent in reported speech hurts. Nothing that is said or presented in any semiotic system can be relied upon. There is always too much noise to be able to trust an image, a phrase, a gesture, any ideological tropes. What then can be trusted ?

- Why do you stay on the verandah all day ? The child asked him. Don't you like going into the sea ? She is standing on the grass in front of him.He half smiled at her and moved his head in a way that was non-committal.The hotel veranda is set just above the surface of the lawn. The shade cantilevered over the veranda floor onto the grass which fifty metres away turns into a sandy beach. Behind the verandah, behind his back,  the hotel is built on the steep that climbs on a 20 degree angle up to the white, grey and copper colored cliffs. - Don't you like going into the sea? I think it is special.  She is looking curiously at him. - Special? why is it special? - At school they tell us that we shouldn't use the word "awesome" to describe everything, that instead we should use other words like special. So I say (that because) the water is special, but really it's awesome. - Yes that's true, it is. He said smiling at her. - Don't you like the sunshine ? I like it though I have to use factor  80 cream, it makes my skin glow my mummy says. - That's very good, as too much sunshine isn't good for you.- Is that because of sunburn ? - Yes... though too little sun is equally bad for you. Do you get sunburnt ? -  No, what do you think about it ? - I think your afraid of being burnt.  She said very seriously. If you start out slowly you won't get burnt. - True, I don't like getting sunburnt. This days,  especially,  the sunshine is very bad for me. - Why do you come here if you don't like getting a tan ? She asked,  looking thoughtfully at him. - You have a gift for logic, which is remarkable in this world. What is your name ? He asked. - My name is S, though my friends call me S, with the accent on the z, so it sounds slithery and Polish. - Why is that are you from Poland? - Of course I am Polish, she said, totally Polish but I care about the words people use to identify me, because of the internet they always speak with invisible accents over words, and i like words and languages, and also I know your anthem by heart [...]  you know the mayor came to my school and told us about the national song, its our national identity, I don't like the guy who wants to not sing the anthem, I don't like him. He looked at her a little sadly, the fascists do like getting the children young he thought. The light was getting even brighter and more intense. His shades were failing to protect his eyes from the falling photons. - What is your name ?  she asked - Sam_eve - Which direction is Poland? He pointed up to the left of the sun. - In that direction, you can see the sun at night. - Perhaps you don't know who I was referring to, she said. The sound waves from her voice washing over him.He didn't reply immediately, he had half closed his eyes to keep the light down. - No I don't. Have your parents taken you to see the Ichthyform Levanticus ? She didn't reply immediately, pausing as she thought about the Ikky which was out there somewhere beyond the horizon. - I hope your not in his party, at home we are supposed to respect others opinions but I just don't, that mans opinion. She scrutinized his face and kicked sand to the side. - Surely, he said. But why don't you like him ? - Well I don't like the way he talks on the internet, he tells stories, he sings, and he plays games. The mayor is more important than him and he said singing the anthem is really important. We read the words in the class. - That's important, he said, musing on the horrors of post-truth. He opened his bag and took a cardboard package out , taking a pill from the foil and taking it. - What is the pill for ? Am I too noisy ? My dad says i am too noisy sometimes. She explained. - No, its ok, I don't think you are any trouble at all. - Have you seen an Ikky ? she asked him pointedly. - Yes, a few years ago. - Where did you see that. She asked, looking suspiciously at him. As if not believing that’d he was telling her the truth. - Way over there, beyond the horizon. The man closed his eyes, relaxing back into the chair. We were trying to catch one. It broke the ship. - Are you asleep, perhaps I talked to much and have made you fall asleep. My parents are going to buy me an iphone, they said I need one when we go back home so they know where I am [...] My dad is a builder, he works for the government and... - That  is a nice job. He responded his voice very quiet now. It's a great profession building houses, much better than deconstructing houses.She gasped with surprise. - That's a weird job, deeeeconstruuucccting houses, They don't teach that at school. - It's not so much a profession. Though it should be on a planet like this. Some military men have a real talent for it though. I used to be a military man so I learnt how to do that. We learnt how to treat the houses as space to move through. It gets boring deconstructing houses.She looked puzzled for a short time and then agreed. - There are ideals about these things, he said. Has anyone explained what ideals are to you ? - I think so. She said. They are good things to have if one honestly believes in them. If they are are good ones. They are bad things to have if they are bad ones. - I guess i need to think about that, he said. It's a very hot day for that. He said. Wondering how far away the horizon was here. He added that it was very hot today. He took another pill. He hoped it would rain properly before he died.- Perhaps you should go for a swim to cool down. - I can't its really not good for me anymore.Susan looked at him uncertainly.- Perhaps you are stressed. - I am very stressed. He took another pill.- You take a lot of pills. - I have a schedule that I must follow. The doctors insist you know. - Are they good for you ? she asked doubtfully. - They keep me alive, so they seem to be working.Grey drops of ugly rain began to fall into the sea. The heaviness of the rain produced a blackness out to sea. - I guess i am talking too much. - No, he said opening his eyes, lines appearing from each corner,  what your saying is unique... - We get social-historical lessons. They have got us up to the last war. The EU and the unification, so we learned lots of things about modern things. The teachers are funny though, sometimes they seem to want to say more, but don't. - It's often like that he said, the input is never as wide as everyone wants. Too partial. The man is sitting still, his eyes closed. Sudden memories of giant waves far out to sea. The seas on this planet are alive with life. - what about ideals? he asked her. The waves looked slightly bigger now the tide was turning. - They are all great if you believe in them,  she said.  For example the species ideal looks good,  if someone makes a mistake about this, if the intentions are good then its a valid ideal. - Have to think about this, but its hot and I'm tired P{erhaps} I would love to go for a swim. - you could go for a swim, she agreed. - I don't really want to move. - That's because your aren't very motivated. Perhaps its stress. Would you like something else to drink ?  She said. - True I am very stressed and perhaps a little bored. He reached into his bag and took another pill. No,  its OK I have water here. - You do take a lot of pills. - I have a schedule, I must follow the Doctors orders. - Are you sure they are good for you ? I saw this program which said that people take too much medication and that we should change our diet. - It's only the medication that keeps me alive at the moment. I should be able to stop taking them once the effects of the radiation begin to lesson. He replied. - But still. I don't understand. she said looking curious. - we are very stupid, frequently. So that we end up having to take pills because our situations demand.  I'm hoping that if I consistently take the pills I will be able to travel home. My home was renamed after I left it, now its part of Europe. But when I was born it was part of yugoslavia... - I've heard of that place. - Really, that's nice, well you know geography is less than history which is less than culture and these are less than dna signatures all of which are determined.... - Like fables and stories are less than narratives, my teacher says. - Yes, but anyway where were you born ?- In a town in China, Wuhan,  but I became english when my parents adopted me from the orphanage. - Ah right,  I didn't realize that, and I had no idea that you weren't born in europe like me. I can't tell the differences between humans very well. Mostly the category differences are so trivial that my facial recognition simply fails. - I think I have heard of this condition. - It's not that for me, strictly speaking I'm not human so... - In the past human scientists used to invent non-existent scientific categories and differences, and then decide they shouldn't exist. - Why was that? - Ït's very complicated, the man sighed, and sad.  To sad for this day.  Why don't you have a swim before lunch? - After lunch perhaps not now. When I saw you before, always sitting here on the verandah, always reading.  I thought maybe you were like a teacher, but now its confusing as you don't seem to really be here. -- Ah,  that maybe because of the facial recognition software, I suffer from prosopagnosia.  Seeing her blank expression he explained. It's face blindness, a cognitive disorder of face perception in which the ability to recognize familiar faces is impaired.  In my case non-existent. So I use software to mediate between me and the world,  which as I said doesn't work very well. - How did that happen ? - I was blown up on a peace keeping mission. The chemotherapy is working on my body but whilst it is curing the cancer it makes the prosopagnosia worse... - You seem very confused she said frowning at him. Is it because of the drugs ? - Yes, the drugs and the software. - Where was the peace-keeping mission ? - In Eastern Europe, on the borders with Eurasia. We were there to try and minimize the casualties and support the interests of...  He stopped speaking as he thought that she probably couldn't understand the complexity of what he was trying to say. - They say that some wars are necessary,  it brings justice to places where there isn't any. But we have children in my school who came from a place where there was a war and they said that their sister had died, bombs and missiles had destroyed their houses.. - Yes, that's what I have to observe and try and prevent. How did it feel to know about that ?- Horrible. It was so scary. She is sitting down on the edge of the verandah looking at him seriously now. - I had a crisis, personal and developmental when I got blown up. He said to her. It's not unusual. - I think I had one when I heard about that the children coming from the war. Is that a trauma ? He paused and smiled lightly at her.  He couldn't see his own smile any longer but still he often smiled. - How old are you ? she continued seriously.- In my middle-forties. Yes being blown up is always traumatic. - That's like my mummy and daddy. That's old to have a crisis. - Not really, it can happen at any age. We are always changing, so... - Oh.  He wondered what her face looked like. He missed that. - My Mummy and Daddy are getting divorced soon.  I am going to live with mummy. They have structural incoherences my mummy says. - That's pretty normal. Must be serious if they are getting divorced.  - I think its her new boyfriend myself. - You're clever, he said My daughter and wife are arriving tomorrow, from London. I am looking forward to their coming. I think my wife and I have structural incoherences as well. We come from very different cultures. - Can you recognize them ? She asked. - They wear special indicators,  so I can recognize them. I recognize my wife through her wearing a red cardigan, and her rings, my daughter through her cardigan or clothes she singularizes  with a badge. - Why do you spend so much time sitting here on the verandah ?- Well its simple enough,  after I got blown up.  I received a high radiation dose. So I'm using the pills to prevent the radiation from killing me. Bad effects of being a peace keeper... - Will it take long ?  Another two or three months of the drugs. But I'll never be able to see faces again. - I thought you said the drugs make it worse ? She said seriously. - They do but the doctors tell me it will probably never recover now and may get worse. I live in hope. - So if I see you tomorrow you'll not recognize my face? - That's right, though if you are wearing the same clothes, or sound the same, I might  recognize you.She laughed, a little delighted. He was smiling at her. - You don't seem to unhappy about it - so... - That's true, I am used to it now. My friends are getting used to it. so they say things like “ Hi Sam (that's my name), it's john or vanessa “ so I recognize them. - Do they ever lie to you ? Like I saw in a film a few days ago when people got confused because they lied to one another about everything. - I don't know, they might, they would be existentially very confused. Whilst I wouldn't know at all.  I think I am existentially indifferent to the truth nowadays.They both laughed at this. - That's awesome. She stood up. Studying his face. - I will always introduce myself so you know who I am. I'd better go and find mummy as its lunchtime. Perhaps we'll see each other later. - I hope so. He leans back into the chair, watching her run off to the restaurant. Feeling sad that he will never see her face. He wondered what her mother looks like. History, he thinks, is dominated by the utterance with its individuality and and randomness. He falls asleep in the chair shortly after she leaves. To be woken up a few hours later by his watch reminding him to take his drugs.  He is just taking them with some gulps of water when he sees his wife’s cardigan and his daughter's bronze leaping panther approaching him along the path. They have arrived early. Pleasure floods him. This he knows can be trusted.

#everyday practices #fiction #rain... #ideology and discourse

[fanesavin]

What is Fane’s accent like?

Depending on the time-frame of his life his speaking voice has changed a lot, Fane’s originally from a time where in administration and politics in the upper aspects of society it was more common to speak Latin than anything else though the common vernaculars in the regions he was from were old variants of German, Romanian and Ruthenian. So originally and if he happens to speak these langues his accent is very much more Eastern European sounding– not to say he sounds Russian because he isn’t but the accent is similar enough that I could say you could draw comparisons since there really aren’t very many examples of people speaking Romanian that I can find.

One common fact about many European languages especially those that are considered ‘romance’ languages is the fact that they all stem from the original Latin. I’ve seen a conversation between a Spaniard, a Francophone and Italian where none of them speak the other’s language yet can manage to comprehend the other’s meaning due to the general root stem for many verbs and words (pretty neat I have to admit). Point being it’s not impossible for someone with a grounding in Latin to learn and comprehend other native languages with a bit of time and effort put into it.

Anyway, after he left his titled position Fane also sacrificed his wealth and privilege to travel West until he ended up in Paris where he had to reestablish himself financially lest he basically die in poverty (which many at the time were). Mostly, he did this by working in a café-theatre cross bar where he earned his own keep and in turn was able to work on changing and losing his native accent which considering he was around actors meant it wasn’t exactly hard to do.

Again, things changed when he eventually decided he wanted to branch into academia, with the influence of the Napoleonic wars at the time it led to a lot of interest being generated in and around Egypt at the time with most of the work and investigation being conducted between London and Parisian institutes and Fane found that to be taken seriously in certain fields he needed to learn how to adapt again and by the point his interest in Egyptology developed he’d been living for an extended period of about 75 years in London in a more middle-upperclass level by which time again he’d been learning to fit in and adopting a new accent once again– one that he found he liked and has eventually kept ever since.

TL;DR: Fane generally now adopts and keeps a more toned down London/English accent somewhere between middle to upper class, though when he’s tired he gets a bit more of a drawl to it. For the most part though he speaks and sounds a lot like the accent Tom puts in when he’s playing the part of Lucifer (listen here) – considering this isn’t Tom’s natural accent since he’s Welsh. 

#.cd. #.hc. #have some history #and then the answer at the end of it XD #Anonymous

[servinglemonade]

A.D. Revealed: My Thoughts On The PLL Finale

BEWARE: MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD FROM THE PRETTY LITTLE LIARS SERIES FINALE

No more secrets, no more lies, no more creepy texts. Pretty Little Liars is officially over. I thought the finale was far from perfect, but they were a bunch of parts that I did enjoy. Here are my thoughts on the PLL series finale. 

The Beginning

What was this?! Lucas randomly tap dancing and Jenna riding a horse?! It was so weird. I just didn’t get the relevance of it.

The Intro

Sad times seeing it for the last time. But I loved that the coffin was open this time and they all did the ‘shh’! 

1-year time-jump

What was the point of this time jump? So when the game ended the girls just went on with their lives not knowing who tortured them? 

Emison babies

Okay, so Emily’s the mother of these babies right? Then why are they blond and white? Also, twins. How many twins does this show need? 

Rosewood High

Ali was discussing Ezra’s book in class, omg. I thought that was a bit weird. Also, why are we waisting time on this new clique Addison has created. They should be giving us some answers. On a side note, Jenna is a teacher, wow. Do have to give her some points for that remark she gave Addison about smelling a bitch, that was a good one!

The Lost Woods Resort

What’s up with this show making creepy places into nice hotels? Anyway, this was so boring. Just waisted time. Although when ‘A.D.’ turned around and you saw Melissa, I knew that was a mask. No way they would reveal it so early in the episode and in this way. When the mask was taken off and it revealed Mona I just knew something was up. I thought that she might be working with A.D. or something. Why she was exactly doing it is still not very clear to me. Did she just want to know who it was to help the girls? If you know please share it with me. What I did like about this part was seeing everyone together at the table and around the campfire!

Spencer visits Mary

I thought this was fishy. Spencer just mentioned she and her mom were getting along really good, why would she be visiting Mary in jail? Or maybe it wasn’t Spencer that you just saw?! (wink, wink)

Rehearsal Dinner from Ezra & Aria

First, why are the girls STILL treating Mona like crap? Honestly, I felt so bad for her. Secondly, THE MOMS! This was one of the best parts of the finale to be honest. They were so drunk. What I really hated was that they didn’t say how they got out of the basement. That was a let down. I did love how drunk they were at the end that Spencer had to drive them home. (also Ella calling shotgun was hillarious)

Mona Knocking Spencer Out

THIS WAS ICONIC! She slapped her so hard. Also how she said: “deja vu, bitch!” I loved that! It was exactly how Mona slapped Spencer when she figured she was A back in season 2. Janel Parrish is one of the best actresses in this show!

A.D. is revealed

The moment we were all waiting for. I love how they revealed A.D. Once it ‘looked’ like Spencer was looking in a mirror, I just knew that it wasn’t a mirror and she really does have a twin. It was so good! So Spencer has a twin, Alex Drake, and she’s A.D. Although I wasn’t shocked, because I just saw it coming. But it was a very good reveal!

The Backstory of A.D.

Once I heard that British accent, I knew that she had to be connected to Wren somehow. Then we find out that Wren just randomly meets her in a bar? Then Wren makes sure Cece/Charlotte meets Spencer’s twin, Alex Drake. They have a very strong bond together and Charlotte tells Alex that Spencer is a toxic person. So when Charlotte was killed, Alex needed to know who did it. She wanted to avenge Charlotte’s dead which is why she created the game. To figure out who did it (I have no idea what the puzzle pieces and the picture had to do with all of this). But when the game ended Alex wanted Spencer’s life, she wanted everything she had, including her friends and Toby. I honestly thought this was such a cliché. Like they couldn’t have thought of a better reason? 

We also see all the times Alex was pretending to be Spencer, including the infamous airport scene. Alex was also the one who kissed Toby and hooked up with him twice. This is where I start getting confused. Toby has been with Spencer for so many years and he didn’t realise it wasn’t Spencer?! How did the liars who have known each other for so long not realise it wasn’t their bff?! 

What was the point of impregnating Alison with Emily’s eggs? What did Alex gain from that? Also, Wren’s the dad? Was he aware of this? Was he working with Alex? Did he give his sperm to Alex even when he didn’t want to? I have so many questions.

Wren shoots A.D.

We all saw Wren with a gun in the promo. I felt let down by this, I really thought he was going to kill someone. Turns out Alex really wanted to be Spencer so she made Wren shoot her in the same spot Spencer was shot, so they’d look exactly alike. How crazy is that?

Not as crazy as what we found out next. Wren is dead. Alex killed him and turned his ashes into..... A DIAMOND. Wren is now a diamond. I have no words #WrenDeservedBetter

Mary and Spencer have lunch

Mary shares some information with Spencer while eating lunch together. Of course, Spencer is still locked up, but that’s not the point. 

So we learn that Mary SOLD Alex when she was born. Alex was adopted by a wealthy British family, but after a few years, she was put into a orphanage.

How is it possible that Mary never told Spencer that she has a twin sister. Even if Mary didn’t know where she was or even alive, that’s something you should mention. 

Ezra is missing?!

So the girls were being all dramatic thinking Ezra doesn’t want to marry Aria anymore. Come on y’all. After everything you have been through, you really don’t think something else happened? Seriously Ezra saying he is not coming to his own wedding through text is not believable. He has a masters in American Literature. He probably would have written Aria a letter on that typewriter of his.

So then we see Ezra is locked up in, what he called it, a DIY dungeon. So where Alex is keeping Spencer as well. I liked the DIY dungeon line, it was better that the fact that he can handle a dead body in a trunk because he has a Masters degree in American Literature. #OhEzra

The Horse and Jenna

So after an hour of practically no sensation, besides the A.D. reveal, and 5 minutes of actual answers. Alex goes to the stables. Why? No idea. But the horse she is with is the same horse from the beginning of the episode. The horse seemed comfortable around Spencer. So when Alex walks towards it, the horse goes crazy. Toby sees it and looks confused, just like me this entire finale.

Then Jenna walks to what she thinks is Spencer. Suddenly Jenna asks ‘Spencer’ if she is wearing a new perfume, she replies by saying she smells like horses, because of the stables. But Jenna doesn’t buy it and calls Toby to tell him that Spencer isn’t Spencer. 

So........ Jenna (of all people) and a HORSE figure out that Spencer isn’t Spencer before her long-time (ex) boyfriend, her parents and HER BEST FRIENDS?! What is this ridiculousness?

The Liars Figure It Out

So while the liars are still trying to figure out what happend to Ezra (really?), Toby comes in. He hands Aria the book that Spencer gave him before he left Rosewood with Yvonne and he says: “Look, there are no notes in this book. Spencer always made notes in this.” Everyone looks confused, including me. He then adds that it was weird that Spencer kissed him when he left as well. Toby then immediately comes to the conclusion that Spencer must have a twin. The liars come to the same conclusion and they go to save Spencer.

So you’re telling me that they figured out that Spencer has a twin and that she is A.D. in like 1 minute. They didn’t even know their dead friend was alive for like 2/3 years. What is this mess?

Toby To The Rescue

So then the Liars, Caleb, Toby and Mona find Spencer, Alex and Ezra. So of course, the classic who is who? For Toby to figure out who really is Spencer he asked a question about her favorite poem in the book she gave him. Although the real Spencer didn’t even know that he had that book, because it was Alex who gave it to Toby, Spencer knew the answer. 

Then Mona called the cops (obviously) and Alex was arrested. 

I just felt it was so rushed, everything was so last-minute.

Ezria Wedding

When that phone went off, I was like, no please not a text message from B please. Turns out it was just I. Marlene King, the creator of the show. I did like that cameo.

Final Scene with the Liars

I loved this. It was perfect. Hanna is happily married to Caleb and they are expecting a baby! Spencer and Toby are FINALLY together again #bless. Emily and Ali are getting married. And Aria well, she is happy I guess. #NoEzriaForMe. 

Ali’s line was so emotional. I was feeling all the feels.

Queen Mona is the winner of the game, this episode and the entire show

So we see Mona in Paris selling dolls?! Genius! Then her boyfriend (I assumed after that kiss) walks in and I realized that he looked a lot like the cop that arrested Alex and Mary. She then walks in a corridor which gave me major Dollhouse vibes and I wasn’t far off. Because Mona is keeping Mary and Alex as her own dolls! She beat A.D. in the most Mona way possible and I’m so here for it! 

The Last Scene

As soon as I heard that thunder I was like: “Oh no, Addison is probably missing.” And yes, she was. It was exactly like the pilot and I was not here for this. They should not have done that.

That was it, y’all. That was the PLL series finale. It was far from perfect, but there were still parts I enjoyed.

In my opinion, the whole A.D. reveal would have been better if Alex had been around from the beginning. If they (the writers) made her a part of the night that Ali disappeared and was the one that was controlling Mona and CeCe as A, that she was the mastermind behind everything, I would have loved that and considered that the perfect ending. They had the time to it to be honest. It was a 2 hour finale after all. They just wasted a lot of time on stuff that I wasn’t truly interested in. I wanted to see more of the mystery, because that is what made me love PLL so much. But you can’t please everybody. 

A special shout-out to Troian Bellisario, Janel Parrish and Sasha Pieterse who have been the best actresses in this show. Especially Troian in this finale, she deserves all the awards! 

Last but least I just want to say thank you to everyone who has been involved in this show for an amazing 7 year journey! I will consider this show one of my favorites forever. 

Goodbye Rosewood, it’s been one hell of a ride.

XO

Yenai

#pretty little liars #pll finale #pllgameover #alex drake #ad #A #i marlene king #pll #pll series finale #Troian Bellisario #janel parrish #sasha pieterse #entertainment #servinglemonade

[theskyexists]

the biggest problem i had with the dragon prince is sokka’s voice for callum and the irish accent for rayla. i just cannot take it seriously

warming to her accent, but callum’s voice is just - arghghghghg

also though the king is super cool, the way he tells the story, the humans were just super shit.

ok that heart to heart was better

the fuckin naruto run lol

finding it more palatable now i know viren’s not an actually evil dude, just using dark magic is all

but episode two has got wayyy better pacing

Claudia turns out to be hella powerful and i love that

lol wtf. that line just launched millions of harrow/viren ships

(if the egg wasn’t destroyed why didn’t viren TELL harrow. viren is a shitty friend alright. edit: im thinking, was it claudia?? but she would have been too young. edit edit: viren IS a power-hungry dude, but WHY? what the hell does he want)

how did Rayla INSTANTLY decide to align herself with callum and ezran against renaan??? when he refused to back down. she seems thrilled at fighting him! what the fuck!

the scene-changing feels super unpolished tbh. it’s very realistic - and therefore not super conducive to smooth storytelling. callum goes to see the king like three times in a row. it’s like using the same word over and over in a piece of writing

gotten used to callum’s voice

all callum does at the top of the tower is fail to talk with his dad, lose his voice to viren, get it back, be convinced viren is a villain, get no response to calling his dad, dad, abandon his dad for no reason i can really see.

the plans all fail. viren lashes out and thinks callum is a shitty commoner (lol)

i dont really fuckin understand how from this mess, callum concluded that neither harrow nor renaan would want to return the egg. so little trust in harrow. and yeah, renaan wants to kill harrow, but then rayla goes against him for no real reason - to... distract him from killing harrow - which she shouldn’t particularly care about So Much (if she’s thinking about a feud, then have her reference Callum’s point) and which isn’t worth sacrificing her life for, and which won’t stop him in the long run, and even if she did, she’s willing to go back to protect him AGAIN for ....callum? i don’t get it

like, just go up there with the egg, show it to them elves, show it to harrow. ?

tonally this is fucking weird because they’re like, team-bonding about having a quest now while up in the tower right NOW all their adults are fighting each other to the death lol

ezran has gone from annoying to adorable though

SO ALL THESE GUARDS ARE DEAD!!! AND ALL THE MOONSHADOW ELVES ARE DEAD!!! (i guess?? they weren’t as invincible as they fucking said?? wtf??)

oh right Harrow, IS dead. but not really because clearly and obviously Viren did something.

hoping: that this mess resolves itself in the next episodes as the adopt a travel format.

i can’t tell exactly what makes the narrative so messy. but it feels extremely messy. i need to think about it. i think it’s because it seems super counter intuitive how all these kids are responding to the circumstances

i know they’re trying to be nuanced and create ambiguities. but i don’t know how to feel about it

they still had guards left? to carry the coffin? lol

not sure why mourning the king has to be cut short because of war. like what are they gonna do, the guards dead, apparently zero nobles in this ‘kingdom’, the princes both LOST LOL

and claudia and the brother are both completely unaffected by Harrow’s death. they’re like: damn so tired ugh im gonna have a sip of coffee in this highly sad procession. they don’t give a FUCK. oh callum and ezran are dead ? these kids shrug - i was kinda friends with em but whatever

jfc

lol CLASSIC villain, im gonna usurp the throne now Viren. what the fuck is up with him. one moment he’s like, gotta save YOU! the next he’s like, gonna get me some power

i just canNOT get a read on these characters. i know they’re like supposed to be 15 or something. but can’t tell if callum is responsible or reckless. and rayla seems like such a SUCKER one moment, and the next she’s all chagrined, one moment tormented, the next, thrilled at betraying her people.

also i CANNOT deal with the sense of humour in this. like lets spend time on recounting a stupid dream? WHO CARES. rayla comes in, oh i was so taken with your insecurity lets risk EVERYTHING. i mean??? what a LOSER. why would she give in??

‘no more detours alright?’ THEY ARE GOING ON THE FIRST DETOUR EVER AND  SHE’S OKAYED IT

this winter lodge is like, a tiny house. this king is not very rich. it’s an early king?

there are NO servants in the whole damn castle OR in the winter lodge. just soldiers, always soldiers. it’s just ridiculous. it’s frozen all over again - ROYALTY IS SUPPORTED BY A HUGE UNDERCLASS THAT DOES THE DAY TO DAY STUFF OF LIVING. (apart from it ruining realistic worldbuilding, it also feels like it just forgets about/erases the truth of everyday life, of peace, and of the unprivileged classes)

‘it won’t work, humans and elves don’t trust each other’ - uhhh ok, but why is Callum so sure of this. he has no experience

why has rayla just been ducking around the rafters and running around the roof. could just have chilled out. i appreciate that they wanna show off her cool parkour but it’s been already three times that they play her running around like a very quick ninja as ‘cool! oh wow! stakes!’

SO AMAYA JUST FUCKIN WRECKS RAYLA. i hate how literally every fight in this makes me think: great, now these two idiots are fighting each other for no real reason

OMG ELVES HAVE ONLY FOUR FINGERS?? ok thats a very cool little thing

i know this is like super on the nose storytelling like - hey actually FIGHT racist stereotypes, using them doesn’t fuckin work

but it’s so grating

lol - nobody saw the hostage bullshit comign? nobody is like, hmmmm these boys are going along with this girl suprisingly voluntarily

yeah so harrow’s spirit is definitely in a bird now. did nobody notice that just before Harrow died, he flailed about like a bird?

i can’t keep going

#dsafj #sdjkfa #jdska #jsak #jalkfj #sjadfj #jsadfj #tdp #my stuff #i try but i fail to really like it

[benevolenterrancy]

@bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b here ya go, thanks, this was fun to write ^-^ nice to write about people being dumber than you are to make yourself feel better

-

McCree was...

He was...

Well, he was definitely not panicking, that was what he was not doing, because Jesse McCree was one cool customer that could take things as they came and laugh it off.  He'd survived the foster care system and his weird adopted father and his overly intense adopted sister.  He'd survived losing his damn arm, alright, and everything that went down that made it necessary to bundle a young Jesse up and whisk him away to the houses of strangers rather than leave him at home.  And by the end, he'd survived everyone that had thought they could make judgment calls about him without even trying to get to know him, every teacher that had shaken their head and decided some idiots couldn't be helped, every classmate that had turned their nose up at his accent – a vestigial limb left over from a childhood in the south – or his manner of dress or his sense of humour.  After all, it hadn't been as bad as all that.  He'd wound up with a great family (he'd die for Gabe and Sombra), and plenty of friends.  He'd learnt to let people go.  Some people just would never see past his shaggy hair or his loud mouth or the cowboy hat he refused to “grow out of”.  Fuck 'em, that's what Jesse had learnt.  Shrug your shoulders, turn your back, and go find people that matter.  There had been a time when he couldn't do that.  There was a time when he'd been living back with his birth family that every disappointed look the teacher had sent him when he'd acted out in class had been like a slap and every report card returned home had been... well, not just like a slap.  There'd been a time when he'd hated everything about Gabriel Reyes, but mostly the fact that he was forcing him to confront a brand new school with people that stared and laughed and huddled among themselves in the cliques they'd formed years back, no space for a new, pushy, desperately loud kid.

Then things had changed.  Then he'd made friends, real friends, and found out what people could be like – what he could be like.  And suddenly the people turning their nose up didn't matter any more.

...R-ight.

And so that was why, as Jesse McCree sat in school library across from Hanzo Shimada, he definitely was not panicking at all.

Even if Hanzo Shimada was hot as sin, with long, dark hair cascading down his back, the most intense eyes Jesse has ever seen, and holy fuck those biceps.

The guy did archery apparently.  Archery. Who the fuck did archery unless they were preparing to run off in some goddamn fantasy movie?  Jesse had never even really given archery much thought as a thing people did – it only really existed in historical documentaries and the Olympics – but now when it was nearly thirty degrees outside and Hanzo Shimada was sitting two feet away from him in a tank top, Jesse was really, really thinking about archery.  And how it must take a lot of strength to constantly be drawing and holding a tense bowstring if you wanted to aim with any degree of accuracy.  And how that sort of strength made it look like your arms and shoulders had been carved from fucking marble.  Especially when one of said statuesque arms had a sleeve of vibrant, blue tattoos running all the way down it.  Jesse could get lost in a bicep like that, with or without blue dragons staring back at him, but the dragons definitely didn’t hurt.

The thing was though, it wasn't just that.  Jesse had met hot kids before that were out of his league and it generally didn't really trouble him.  Whatever, laugh it off, move on.  No, of course it had to be more complicated than that.  When Jesse had first entered this class he'd wound his way through the filling seats until he'd found himself sitting next to a boy whose name he would learn was Hanzo.  Jesse had then immediately had his smile met by a flat stare, and he'd figured, oh well, here was an uninteresting asshole.  A hot one, maybe, but an asshole all the same.  It hadn't seemed important at the time because he'd already turned to the person on his other side – a girl named Angela who apparently wanted to be a doctor (or a researcher...? Something like that, which involved more of the human body than Jesse wanted to think aobut).  She was friendly and laughed easily.

Everything would have been so much easier if Hanzo had just stayed an asshole. The guy was quiet, sure, but Jesse sat elbow-to-elbow with him three times a week and he slowly began to realize that underneath the prickly, don't-look-at-me-don't-speak-to-me aura the guy projected, there was something far sweeter down there.  The guy chuckled at every single one of the prof's bad jokes and Dr Winston had a lot of them, and they were always nonchalantly that most of the class didn't realize they'd happened... heck, Jesse usually didn't realize they'd happened until he heard a soft snort next to him.

(And yes, it was a snort. Absolutely and completely undignified and it made Jesse stare at Hanzo until he'd been glared back into submission by the man, who'd seemed flustered that someone had heard him.  How do you tell a guy that may or may not hate your guts just for existed that you thought his silly snort-laugh was cute?  The answer was you did not do that and focused back on your own notes if you value your life.)

As for Hanzo's notes, well, they were painfully neat and precise.  But amid the sharp ballpoint and careful diagrams, Hanzo Shimada apparently had a habit of making snide details about the lessons in the margins (Jesse knew this because it was a two hour long lecture and sometimes watching your neighbour writes notes out of the corner of your eye was better than trying to listen to a prof drone on at the front of the class for another hour and a half).  It made Jesse start fantasizing about taking out his own pen and writing a little comment in the corner of Hanzo's page.  Made him think about getting into some sort of stupid note-passing conversation with him like they were eight year olds rather than college kids.  Made him think about getting to have all those weird, witty little comments directed at him, and then seeing where the conversation took them.  (And, occasionally, it made him think about continuing that conversation out of class, possibly down towards a pub he knew for a chat and maybe, oh just maybe, a date.)

Jesse, however, did not dare try – to write the note, that is, entertaining anything else would have been madness.  Hanzo looked like the sort of person that might try to tear your head off if you messed up his notebooks.

Then, just to top it all off, during their lecture breaks, Hanzo often got calls from what Jesse could only assume was a brother.  And, against every expectation, Hanzo Shimada was sweet. Well, still a bit of a deadpan asshole, but no one who's a hundred percent bad uses his ten minutes of free time to talk with his brother every single day.

“Don't look at me, I am not playing wing-man for you in a class I need to ace if I wanna keep my GPA up,” Angela had said.  Jesse had pouted at that – he hadn't even gotten a chance to ask her, had just glanced at her with maybe a slightly-too-hopeful gleam in his eye during one of the breaks Hanzo had left the room to talk with his brother.

And then the fateful day of the class project had arrived.  Winston had told them just to group up with someone sitting beside them rather than running piecemeal through the class.  Jesse had, of course, turned to Angela only to find she had turned around in her seat and was quickly making plans to team up with a girl sitting behind them named Mei.

Frantically Jesse had spun around, but everyone else was making groups with the people to their left or right who they had been getting to know since day one.  With Angela breaking the system, that meant he had only one person left sitting next to him.

Hanzo Shimada was watching him with an unimpressed face and an eye brow raised.

Traitor, he mouthed at Angela.

You're welcome, mouthed Angela, the Stealth Wing-man.

And so here Jesse was, sitting in the library with someone who presumably hated his guts and thought he was – what, loud? Obnoxious? Lame? – but who Jesse still pathetically, wistfully wanted to impress.  Life, sometimes, was enormous unfair.  At this point Hanzo hadn't even given Jesse the time of day, he'd been sitting at one of the study tables since before Jesse had arrived, nose an inch from his phone as he texted someone.  Presumably someone cooler than Jesse McCree.

Jesse wanted to groan.  Or shove his pencil in his eye just so he could get out of this project.  Instead he mechanically started pulling out his books and waited for Hanzo to be ready to start on the project with him.

-

Hanzo Shimada: ... WELL??

Obnoxious Little Brother: oy give me a sec some of us are still in class and don't want our phone to be taken away again besides i'm trying to tell zen about how i, the lowly highschooler, am helping my university-bound brother pick up boys

Hanzo Shimada: Don't you DARE

Obnoxious Little Brother: too late he wishes you luck by the way and says he has complete faith in you goes to show which one of us  knows you better eh? not him!

Hanzo scowled down at his phone before he gaze flickered briefly up to the person who had sat across from him.  He'd been painfully aware of Jesse McCree since McCree had arrived in the library and pulled back the chair with a scrape that had made the hairs on the back of Hanzo's neck stand on end.  So far McCree had made no acknowledgment that there was another person at this table, another person he was going to be forced to work along side for the next two weeks.

Hanzo didn't know whether Zenyatta had faith in him or if Genji had just been trying to wind him up, but Hanzo certainly did not have faith in himself, not about this.  He had never been good at... people. He made, in Genji's words, “seriously just the worst first impressions.  Like wow.  So bad,” which just wasn't fair because when it came to a professional setting, when it was about work or networking, he was fine.  He could move effortlessly through the crowds, introduce himself, chat, plan, negotiate.  He'd been dogging his father's footsteps since it had been decided he would one day take over the family business and he was a devoted student.  But as soon as it was real people in real life Hanzo may as well be carved out of wood; somehow he always managed to put his foot in his mouth.  Which was why he had fallen so low as to turn to his baby brother for advice, because at least Genji, if nothing else could be said about him, was good with people.

Too good with people, if you asked their father.  Genji was a social butterfly who wasn't so much a butterfly as a housefly, flitting about around everywhere and getting where at lot of people would probably wish he wasn't and really not caring who he chatted with or what they thought about him.

Obnoxious Little Brother: look, just don't do the Hanzo Special and you should be fine

Hanzo Shimada: Excuse me??

Obnoxious Little Brother: u kno, your patented Grunt & Growl ™ technique don't do that and assume other people can actually understand you bc they can't

Hanzo wanted to snap back that he did not grunt or growl, thank you, he was a mature adult unlike Genji, but he found his fingers hesitating on the keys.  Frantically he scanned his memory to figure out if he had grunted or growled at Jesse McCree.

God help him he probably had.  He had almost certainly stared stupidly at him.

McCree... glowed, though, and Hanzo wasn't sure what to do with that.  He spoke so easily.  All it had taken was one glance from McCree on the first day of class for him to apparently decide that Hanzo was a lost cause.  Before Hanzo had managed to scrounge up a single coherent, reasonable thing to say to the sunshine bright, smiling boy who'd sat down next to him, said boy had turned his attentions to the much more receptive form of Angela Ziegler, the girl sitting to his right.

McCree was loud and raucous and ridiculous and he wore the stupidest hat Hanzo had ever seen but god help him he wanted to see McCree smile at him, rather than catch glimpse of it from the corner of his eye while he laughed with someone else.  He wanted to have McCree attention at some point other than when he'd made a fool of himself with his ugly laugh or by seeing McCree stare judgmentally at his notes.

Obnoxious Little Brother: at the risk of sounding too much like a disney movie have you tried just.... being yourself??? (this was zen's suggestion btw i'm personally pretty sure being someone other than yourself would be a step in the right direction but you never know maybe disney knows whats up)

Hanzo thought about what McCree had looked like when they had been forced to choose partners.  He had wanted to be anywhere than with Hanzo. The look he had shot Ziegler when she had found a different partner... the helpless, defeated look when he had accepted that the only person nearby not taken was Hanzo.

No, being himself was definitely not going to help him here.

Hanzo Shimada: Never mind I'll figure it out

What he was going to do was pretend that Jesse McCree was just some other random student, keep his head down, get this project done with the least amount of fuss, and move on to his next set of class next semester and hopefully forget that McCree existed.

“Shall we get started?” he asked briskly, pocketing his phone and pulling out his own book.

McCree's face was despondent and it sat like a stone in Hanzo's gut.  He would rather be anywhere than here.

“Might as well,” said McCree.

#mchanzo #hanzo #mccree #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #overwatch #fanfiction #bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b #more of a ficlet really #something sloppy and fun because these two are Terrible(tm) #angela ziegler #genji #zenyatta #genyatta #also make a guest appearance

[misssophiachase]

Prompt: you're my friend's boyfriend/girlfriend and I hate you so much (but also secretly like you).

Woah this seriously just wrote itself (given the time it took). Thanks for the amazing idea, nonnie. So this is a prompt that was sent to the amazing Ravyn - @cupcakemolotov - and I sort of adopted it. Wherever you are nonnie, I hope you get to read this and like my take (which will be a little different to suit what I'm comfortable with writing). Based on an awesome Crowded House song of the same name, hope you like it!

Mean to Me

"She came all the way from America, she had a blind date with destiny..."

Oxford University, UK (2017- Present Day)

"You never told me how gorgeous the guys at Oxford were, Care," Katherine drooled while standing beside Caroline, her eyes darting around the room excitedly at the fresh meat. "If I'd known, I definitely would have studied here rather than Georgetown."

"Why thank you Katherine," Enzo grinned. "I never knew you could be so complimentary when it came to yours truly."

"I was talking about all the other Oxford men besides you, Lorenzo," she drawled. Katherine and Enzo had met five years earlier through Caroline and had pretty much been bickering ever since. She liked to think it was their way of showing they cared about each other.

"Well, cute if you like that preppy kind of guy," Bonnie commented from her other side. "No offence Enzo but give me a guy in a ripped pair of jeans and band shirt any day over all these penguin suits."

"Well, we are at the Oxford University 850th Anniversary Alumni Ball, Bonnie," Caroline offered, thinking what a mouthful that was as she said it. "I'm pretty certain anything less than white tie isn't going to score you entry here tonight. I'm not all that upset given I've always been a sucker for a guy in a suit with an accent."

Caroline felt a mixture of emotions being back at Oxford after seven years away. It had been her home for six years after all and she had so many great memories of the beautiful grounds, her professors and meeting her best friend Enzo at the same time. They'd both left shortly after graduation and Enzo had followed Caroline back to the States where they shared an apartment while getting established in their chosen careers of law and engineering.

It had been at her law firm in Boston that Caroline met Bonnie and through her Katherine. The two girls had grown up together in a small town in Virginia and had been inseparable ever since. She'd never had too many girlfriends in her life and these two were the best you could ask for.

"Why is it that whenever we're all together our conversations descend into checking out good looking men," Enzo complained. Having him as a best friend was great most of the time but his girl talking skills left a lot to be desired, even if he did try. "On the other hand, if you wanted to discuss what a fine looking specimen I am, then that's another story." No one responded there was just a chorus of groans and a few eye rolls to go with them.

Caroline scanned the room feeling a little self conscious as she did. While her time at Oxford had been wonderful for the most part there were a few people she was nervous about seeing. In fact she'd almost not come but Enzo had insisted, he even suggested bringing a couple of dates to make things less uncomfortable. Hence why Enzo was here with Katherine and she here with Bonnie. He had his own ghosts from the past so Caroline was pretty sure his suggestion wasn't completely selfless. Katherine had been mortified as you would imagine but she lost out on the coin toss and had to pretend to be his date for the evening.

"If it isn't little Caroline," a familiar voice cooed. This was what she'd been dreading. Caroline smoothed over her blonde waves and looked up into the brown, doe eyes of her former friend and resident mean girl Hayley Marshall. Little Caroline? Could she sound any more patronising? It didn't help that she was studying Caroline's red, strapless dress intently either.

"Hayley," she murmured by way of a greeting, thinking just how unfair it was that she looked so unusually elegant in her fitted, black dress with those usually untamed, dark tresses pulled back into a stylish, low bun.

"And Enzo," she continued. "I always thought you two outcasts would end up together."

"Not that it's any of your business Your Bitchiness, but Caroline and I are just friends," he growled. "Katherine is my date tonight." Sensing the obvious tension, Katherine placed her arm around him, albeit reluctantly, playing the part of his dutiful date.

"Oh, so you two are..." Hayley trailed off, looking between Bonnie and Caroline. "Lesbians."

"Excuse me," Bonnie scoffed.

"It's okay really, you know back in the day I thought Caroline had a thing for me given all that jealousy about Klaus, so it all makes perfect sense that you are, uh, that way inclined."

"Do you have a problem with lesbians, Hayley?" Caroline demanded, placing her arm around Bonnie protectively. This bitch had no right to make judgments on people's sexuality even if hers wasn't actually real. She faltered slightly, obviously taken aback by Caroline's comments. Enzo and Katherine were trying not to laugh outwardly and Bonnie was still standing there in shock as events were unfolding.

"It's time for the speeches," the Chancellor announced over the speaker system, interrupting their conversation and for once in her life Caroline was glad as Hayley scurried away, no doubt to spread rumours of her current relationship status.

"Given I've just become your lesbian lover, you owe me an explanation, Forbes," Bonnie mumbled.

"Me too," Katherine hissed. "And who the hell is this Klaus guy?"

"That might take a while to explain," Enzo offered, knowingly. As the speeches began, Caroline's mind drifted back.

Oxford University, UK (2011)

It was her second year at Oxford and Caroline was already exhausted. Not only because of her law studies but all the extra curricular activities she'd tried to cram in at the same time. She'd always been an overachiever at school and the pressure of attending such a prestigious University only made her more desperate to impress.

She was running late for constitutional law and knowing her strict Professor he wouldn't take her tardiness that well. She raced across the lawn not noticing her surroundings and colliding with a hard body as she did, her satchel falling onto the grass and a stack of papers spilling out from within. She didn't even address the stranger just knelt down and pushed her papers back inside hurriedly.

"Usually when someone runs into you they apologise," he uttered, sitting up on the lawn. Caroline finally lifted her eyes not expecting such a gorgeous guy to be looking intensely at eye level She'd never seen such crimson lips before and a set of such disarming dimples either.

"How do I know it wasn't your fault?" She replied tartly, Caroline was never one to admit fault on a whim, it was the budding lawyer in her after all.

"Because it wasn't," he argued. "I'm pretty sure the myriad of witnesses could attest to that fact."

"Even so," she muttered. "Are you actually injured in any way or is it just that precious ego of yours?" She looked around, noticing they had a particularly riveted female audience, sending shocked glances her way. He regarded her curiously, finally standing. His grey henley was fitted tightly across his chest over his dark jeans, a few necklaces peeking out from underneath.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'll send you a bill," he retorted. "Miss?"

"If that's some pathetic way to get my details then I suggest you work on your approach, buddy." Before he could reply she was gone, he may of been gorgeous but getting to class was more important than smug ass.

Unfortunately it didn't take long to cross paths with him again. Turns out he was a law student two years her senior and just as arrogant as Caroline had predicted. The University held an annual inter university law competition, pitting the most promising students at each year level against each other in a mock trial situation.

Being by far the best student, Caroline was excited to learn she'd be representing the second years. If there was something she revelled in it was competition. The challenge was held in a number of rounds and Caroline annihilated her opponents every time. It was only when she got to the finals that Caroline realised her competition was him, the cocky guy from the lawn that day.

As they approached the bench in the makeshift court, she couldn't miss those crimson lips curved into a mocking smile. It was like he'd already claimed victory but Caroline wasn't a pushover and this idiot was about to learn that fact.

"Objection Your Honour. Opposing Counsel is badgering the witness," Caroline argued, standing up yet again. This guy wasn't going to get away with anything and a number of objections had already been made.

"Sustained."

"Your Honour," he shot back. "Last time I checked asking the witness if she felt responsibility for what transpired isn't badgering."

"Maybe you need to consult a dictionary then, Einstein?" Caroline growled nearby. If she was being honest, Caroline was enjoying their sparring. The fact he was just so good looking didn't hurt either.

"Approach the Bench Counsels," The mock judge, also known as his lecturer, insisted. They looked at each other in exasperation before they made their way forward. "I stand by my ruling, but might I suggest you stick to the script Ms Forbes without the snide remarks?" Caroline nodded solemnly before making her way back to the desk. She was annoyed at herself for speaking out of turn but decided to blame it on her smug opponent.

She'd ended up winning, that result not sitting well with a certain Mikaelson. As Caroline had learned afterwards, his family were Oxford royalty. Their father had donated most of the funds for the new buildings and Klaus wasn't the only sibling studying there. His elder brother Elijah and younger sibling Kol were studying medicine and commerce respectively.

Their barbs hadn't ceased though, the brief moments they came into contact not wasted on pleasantries. Just because Klaus Mikaelson considered himself some entitled prince didn't mean she had to be nice, even if he was gorgeous or the fact his little sister had just enrolled at Oxford and taken a liking to her best friend.

Once she entered third year, Caroline hoped she wouldn't have to deal with him too much but that's where she was wrong. Caroline had always been the type to focus on her studies rather than friendships and social activities. She was there for one reason only and it wasn't to make some friends she'd probably never see afterwards, especially given her plans to return to the States. Enzo was obviously an exception but meeting Hayley Marshall had been a surprise. The fact she was American too had drawn Caroline towards her and the group of clueless girls that followed her around like lost sheep.

She'd been impressed at first by the overtly confident brunette that had most guys drooling on campus given her confidence and flair. If she had more time in the day Caroline figured she could be just as alluring. It wasn't until she sat down for lunch in the expansive grounds on Tuesday that Caroline noticed him. Not only did she notice those dark, blonde curls she also saw Hayley's arm snaked around his waist familiarly. Caroline wasn't sure how she'd missed this development but given their history she didn't feel all together comfortable in their presence.

She'd tried to avoid them figuring it was best but they always had a way of shattering Caroline's reverie. Just when she didn't think it could get worse, Klaus had been assigned to supervise her case study. She figured God was trying to punish her for something she probably did in a past life. Caroline would have preferred a bolt of lightning but apparently God had other plans to make her suffer.

"This argument won't stand up in court," he shared, looking at her neatly prepared noted. "It's basically circumstantial."

"If you look at page 3 and 5 of my arguments, you'll find it's not like that at all," Caroline baulked. She hated being told she was wrong without proper cause but from Klaus it made her blood pressure spike.

"When you are trying to make an argument a few paragraphs isn't gong to be enough to convince the judge of your client's innocence," he shot back. "Judges aren't interested in page 3 or 5, they want this front and centre on page 1. Otherwise you're arguments are just going to be lost." Caroline opened her mouth, tempted to bite back as usual but he did actually have a point. She decided to put that down to his further experience.

"So, how can I improve this then?" Caroline asked dubiously. Just because she thought he was an arrogant ass didn't mean she couldn't learn something from his tutelage.

"How about we get a coffee and discuss this further?" He'd asked, cocking his left eyebrow as he said it. Caroline had nodded numbly, trying to ignore the foreign sensations his request had created. One coffee had turned into four when Hayley had arrived in the cafeteria wailing about him breaking their date. Klaus had offered some kind of apology but it wasn't very genuine. When she'd stomped away post tantrum, he'd sent her an apologetic glance with a sly dimple before he followed his girlfriend unenthusiastically.

As hard as Caroline had tried to block him from her mind she'd struggled. Yes, he was seeing her friend and she had no intention of acting on those feelings but it was difficult to ignore the sensations he caused when they were close. Those lingering stares he sent in her direction weren't helping either. She'd found herself sketching pictures in her notebook, her art teacher in high school had told her she was talented but Caroline knew art wasn't going to pay her bills.

Finding her personal sketches of Klaus photocopied on the university pin board for all to see had killed her. As one of the few Americans on campus, Caroline had tried to fit in but it looked like she was now the laughing stock. She deduced that an obviously cruel and insecure Hayley had easily gained access to her notebooks and posted them publicly with her name underneath.

Enzo had promised to kill Hayley but Caroline chose to take a step back and focus on her studies, it was why she was here after all. Klaus had attempted to contact her multiple times but Caroline was far too embarrassed to respond. Even if she'd heard of their break-up not long after the fact. Enzo had even tried to get her to see him before Klaus left Oxford later that year but Caroline refused stubbornly. She had no intention of being subject to anyone's pity, she had her pride after all.

Oxford University (Present Day - 2017)

"So?" Bonnie demanded once the speeches were over, Katherine nodding enthusiastically in the background. "Who is this Klaus guy, better yet where is he?" Caroline didn't need to respond, seeing him approach their group, flanked by some very familiar brunettes and a gorgeous blonde. Even after all these years the Mikaelsons were still so photogenic.

"Well, hello there, handsome," Katherine purred, her flirting skills on point as usual, focusing on his old brother Elijah. Caroline was pretty certain that if anyone could wear a suit it was the dashing surgeon.

"And here I thought you were here with Enzo at first." Klaus asked, his eyes focused on Caroline, causing a few foreign feelings to penetrate her protective shield. "But apparently you've changed teams, you know according to the gossip mill."

"Why is everyone so interested in my relationship status?" Caroline hissed in frustration.

"The dress code cramping your style too?" Bonnie asked, looking at Kol with his bow tie loosened and his shirt slightly untucked.

"You have no idea," he chuckled. "Care for a drink, darling?" Before Caroline could object they'd made their way towards the bar, Elijah and Katherine following closely behind. So much for having her friend's support.

"Did I mention just what an idiot you are, St John?" Rebekah scowled, hands on hips.

"Not recently. Did I mention what an uptight princess you are?" Enzo growled in response. Enzo didn't talk about her much these days and what they had all those years ago but it was obvious she'd made a lasting impression on him, much like her brother had on Caroline.

"Sounds like we have a lot of insults to catch up on," She smirked, leading him away. Great, now she had no excuses but to speak to Klaus.

"Care for a dance?" Klaus asked, holding out his hand. She wanted to decline but Caroline had spent way too much time rejecting his advances for all the wrong reasons. "You look beautiful tonight, love. Although I'm not surprised."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Caroline shot back, trying to ignore just how good it felt having his chest rubbing against hers and his familiar aftershave infiltrating her nostrils. Caroline caught herself studying his face curiously, he was just as she remembered but Caroline had forgotten just how crimson his lips were.

"No," he replied simply, his hands tightening across her back. Caroline knew she owed him an apology given his attempts to contact her over the years but she had no idea what to say right now. Just because she was a lawyer didn't mean Caroline always knew the right words to say. "Tell me this doesn't feel right, Caroline."

It did feel right swaying in his arms, like she was home. It was something she'd fought for so long but Caroline could feel the last of her willpower wearing away as she melted into him. "I just want your confession."

"My confession?"

"I'm tired of waiting, Caroline. It would be nice to know that you feel even a tiny shred of what i've always felt for you." Before she could respond Klaus had pulled out that very sketch she'd drawn all those years ago from his jacket pocket. The fact he'd kept it all these years was testing every feeling she'd tried to quash. "I love you, have done since you ran into me that day."

"I love you too." Caroline didn't need much encouragement to close the distance between them and place a kiss on those crimson lips she'd been desperate to touch for so long. 

It might have taken a while but Caroline figured they had their whole lives to make things right.

#mean to me #perhaps one day #misssophiachase #klaroline drabbles #loving klaroline

[wierdogal]

Writing Our Own Stories (Chapter 6)

Summary: It’s been five years since Rumplestiltskin was banished from Storybrooke and no one knew what had happened to him. That was until Regina got a call from someone asking how she could transfer the remains of her step-brother from Storybrooke to Scotland. Canon until Rumple’s banishment. [Eventual Rumbelle but towards the end.]

In this chapter, Neal tries to find a loophole and we finally learn who it was that saved Rumplestiltskin when he was banished from Storybrooke.

Note: Thank you to everyone who nominated Emily for Best OC in this years TEAs. Thank you for the love! As my thanks, I'll be updating this story with a few more scenes from her.

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

[AO3] [FFN]

Chapter 6

New York, sometime during the First Curse

Neal was getting in over his head. Why on earth would he even entertain the idea of guardianship for a child when he himself was a train wreck?

But there he was at the midtown library of New York, looking over the laws of this realm, trying to see if he had a chance of raising Emily as her guardian. The girl was all alone, after all. He had asked around, even to some of the police he knew...there was no report of any missing girl. Jake, a friend he had in the force, said he'd keep an eye out but so far no one was looking for the girl, no one wanted her.

"Look," began Jake over the phone when Neal had called him for the umpteenth time. "I think it's best for the girl if you just take her in. No one's looking for her, I'd say social services will side with you on this."

"With my RAP sheet," fired back Neal. "Do you honestly think social services is going to let me take care of this girl?"

"Show them how you care," said Jake. "Look, Neal, so far you've been on the mends from what I can see. No more breaking in and stealing cars, no more shoplifting. You actually have a roof over your head...this girl might just be yet another one of those things to get your life back on track. Not to mention her name starts with E and M."

"Not funny," mumbled Neal. "Just let me know."

"Think about it," said Jake. "From what you've told me, that girl has no one else...you can't seriously want her to go into the system, or back into it if that's where she came from." He paused. "She's taken a liking to you and vice versa. I'm sure there's some way you can get legal custody of her."

And that's how Neal found himself in the library pouring over legal books on adoption. He looked over at Emily who was beaming with a stack of books right in front of her. She had been excited when Neal carried the stack over to her earlier, telling her that they'll be in the library for quite some time.

So far the girl hasn't complained. Now that she was engaging in conversation more, Neal could tell the hint of an accent from her speech. Whoever her parents were, or whoever raised her, was not someone who were from around here.

Neal smiled as he watched her read. She seemed to devour every word and the way her eyes scanned through the pages made Neal swell with pride a little that he was able to make this little girl smile despite whatever she's been through.

A small cough brought him out of his thoughts and Neal turned to see an older, Chinese man standing next to him. "I'm sorry to interrupt. But the librarian told me that you've checked out most of the law text and I was wondering if I could borrow the volumes about Business."

"Oh sure," replied Neal, gathering the books the man needed.

"Thank you," replied the elderly man. "I'm putting up a herbal shop and wanted to make sure everything was in order…"

"Not from around here?" asked Neal.

"Hong Kong before New York," replied the man. "Before that? Well you won't believe me if I told you."

"I would probably say the same to you," said Neal. "Neal Cassidy."

"Li Yao," replied the elder man. He motioned to the Emily. "Your daughter?"

"Trying to be her guardian," corrected Neal. "Like you, I'm trying to get things in order."

"I wish you the best of luck then," replied Mr. Yao and headed off to read on another table. The elder man couldn't shake off the feeling that he has seen the boy before but brushed it aside. He went ahead and made sure his shop was in no danger of being shut down by the legal system of this realm. Once he was satisfied he made to return the book but found Neal and the girl had gone.

Mr. Yao went and returned the books he had but as he passed by the table the two had used, his eyes caught on the fairytale book left open and something clicked inside him. He quickly headed to one of the isolated reading rooms of the library… a place no one seems to really wander off into for no apparent reason...or because it was cloaked with his magic.

He found the book that had appeared a decade or so ago and turned to the right page. A drawing of a boy with short brown hair clinging to a scrawny older man with shoulder length brown hair. He waved his hand over the drawing and soon a paper of the same drawing of the boy appeared on his hand. He concentrated harder and the image of the boy began to age until the the drawing of the boy resembled that of Neal Cassidy.

Mr Yao placed the drawing he had used magic on right next to the book. The man, Neal Cassidy, had also came from another realm. The man himself had implied it so earlier. Not only was he from the Enchanted Forest but he was also the reason why the Dark Curse was cast in the first place. Neal Cassidy was Baelfire. He was Rumplestiltskin's son. He was the son of the Dark One.

"Jared there's really no point," said Emily to the person on the other end of the line and Rumple sighed as he heard his daughter's voice from the other room. "I'd rather join my father to America than spend it bored in a useless award ceremony when they're just going to-"

Rumple swore that her friend Jared must have cut her off and for good reason. Emily was graduating with top honors and was being convinced by Jared to deliver the address on behalf of her fellow students to the institution they spent a couple of years studying in.

Emily was smart and a good student but she should be the last person you'd ask to deliver a speech, especially if she had her way...it'll turn to one big speech against the administration and how they lacked in almost every aspect.

"Yes well I'm sure Dean Masterson will be relieved not to see me attending," replied Emily. "Oh so this is all because they want my father there? Yeah well they didn't convince him to speak, why in heaven's name do they think I will?"

Rumple chuckled. Technically that never happened but the workings of magic was truly remarkable. Mr. Yao had explained that the curse had given everyone that was brought by the curse from the Enchanted Forest to the Land Without Magic new lives, including family history and educational attainment. What was even more remarkable is that magic had reworked the memories of people that could be involved...the history of Maine for example, had the foundation of the town of Storybrooke even in their records.

It was the same with the university in Scotland that apparently R. Gold graduated from, with some people even commenting that they had taken classes with him, trying to discover his secretive first name, even though Rumplestiltskin knew that to be a work of fiction.

But he himself, if he tried, would recall moments in campus...studying with professors and even goofing around with other men, drinking alcohol. It was bizarre in a sense but magic was magic...it was the same when he had regained his memories when Emma Swan had arrived in Storybrooke.

"It's not like I'm not going to get my degree if I don't attend," fired back his daughter. "That's why the university has graduate in-absentia. So please will you-"

"Hello Mr. Wilcot," began Rumplestiltskin as he took Emily's phone from her hand and took over the call. "I believe my daughter has made her position quite clear."

"Sir," stuttered the young man. "I-well I was just-"

"Asked to try, I would assume and I understand," replied Rumple with a sly smile to his daughter. "Please do send our regards to whoever convinced you to even attempt to persuade my daughter to do anything she doesn't want. They apparently do not know her very well...like yourself."

"I-" Rumple ended the call and tossed the phone to his daughter.

"And that had nothing to do with the fact that he asked me-" began Emily with a glare.

"Of course not," replied Rumple with a smile. "Your social life is not my concern...especially after you made it perfectly clear the last time you had a lad over."

"Oh you mean Alex who ran out of the house when you entered the room with a gun?" asked Emily, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I thought you liked Jared."

"Yes, well if he thinks he can decide things for you, I retract that statement," said Rumple with a wave of his hand and Emily had to bite back a smile, because she was still a bit annoyed but that gesture that made her reminisce the days when he would show her a spell or a trick with real and proper magic...the one at his disposal.

"I cannot comprehend how you do that," began Emily with a sigh as her father gave her a confused look. "You could be so aggravating and annoying one second and be completely adorable a second after."

"Adorable?" asked Rumple with a raised eyebrow.

"You were twirling your hand," explained Emily with a smile. She raised her phone. "Maybe a little light show to make up for ruining my chance at a boyfriend."

"Are you asking me to show you magic because I told that boy the truth?" asked Rumple, taken aback that apparently he had angered her slightly at his gesture. "I thought you wanted to end that conversation."

"Yes, but I had it under control," replied Emily.

"Uh-huh," replied Rumple with a smile. "And that particular shade of red on your cheeks doesn't help me make my point at all."

"Papa!" called Emily as Rumple all but ran out of the room, his daughter not far behind armed with a pillow.

Somewhere in the Land Without Magic, just a few miles away from Stoyrbrooke during the Second Curse

Rumplestiltskin felt numb. This wasn't how death felt like when he had killed himself and his father not too long ago. Then again, that had transpired in a place with magic. This time it had happened in the Land Without Magic...maybe death was different here.

Awareness slowly crept back to his mind and he was suddenly aware that he wasn't on the hard ground. Actually it felt soft...comfortable actually. It took him a couple of minutes to finally realize he was laying flat on his back on a bed…

His eyes shot open to see an unfamiliar room. He tried lifting his head but that small act took up energy that his body didn't have and he fell right back down.

"Easy," said a voice and Rumple's eyes widened when an older man came to his line of sight. "Your body still needs time to recover even with the light healing spell I could manage."

Healing spell? Rumple studied the man in front of him and it dawned on him that he was somehow familiar...never came across the man before he had disappeared from the Enchanted Forest but the man was known...well any person able to transform into a dragon was someone Rumplestiltskin the Dark One needed to be familiar with.

"You're.." began Rumple, his voice hoarse and low.

"Yes," came the reply. "I was driving aimless in the forest when I saw you collapse."

"You were heading to Storybrooke?" asked Rumple, his mind going into overdrive trying to access his current situation and how he could escape if the man in front of him decided to turn hostile.

"Actually," began the man. "I think my magic was leading me to you...to help you."

All of his thoughts stopped and he stared at the man. "Help me?"

The man nodded. "You must know who I am if you freely talked about magic right in front of me."

"I know who you are Rumplestiltskin." replied the man. "I am Li Yao, if it's any consolation to you. I know how names have power and you would want to be on even ground."

"That's not your real name," whispered Rumple and Mr Yao smiled. He should know well not to try and deceive the Dark One.

"So you do know who I am," began Mr Yao. "I chose the name when I had arrived in this realm..but back in the Enchanted Forest people knew me as 'The Dragon'."

#Writing Our Own Stories #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #rumplestiltskin #baelfire #neal cassidy #the dragon ouat #wierdo writes

[peckhampeculiar]

One to watch

Francis Olvez-Wilshaw’s work has explored a diverse range of topics, from American football to the financial crash and his grandfather’s Filipino heritage. We caught up with the Peckham-based artist ahead of his upcoming show at the Royal College of Art

Words Emma Finamore; Photo Orlando Gili 

Big, bright red baseball caps are something you might expect to see at a Donald Trump rally, rather than in an art gallery, but a Peckham-based artist is using symbols like this in his work as a way of questioning power, both political and economic.

Francis Olvez-Wilshaw first arrived in the area after winning a place to study sculpture at Camberwell College of Art from 2010-13.

“I was sort of ‘parachuted’ into Camberwell,” he says, remembering how it felt to be a teenager from the Midlands arriving at art school in London. “I was oddly out of sync. I think people noticed my accent a lot, it used to be much stronger.”

Encouraged by his tutors, Francis went on to apply successfully for an MA at the Royal College of Art (RCA), but took a two-year gap after his BA to go back to his hometown of Buxton, Derbyshire, to “toughen up” and learn to live as an artist outside the protective confines of university. While he was there he received a grant from the Arts Council to set up his first solo show: If You Want Me To Stay.  

This initial show was heavily influenced by collaborations Francis had worked on at Camberwell with a fellow student interested in interior design. Looking a little like a 1960s bedroom, the show featured brightly coloured, almost cartoon-like sculptures and neon Perspex tables.

There were cushions covered in flowers and small ornament-like sculptures, the most striking of which were resin cast busts of the grandfather of socialism, Karl Marx, in neon pink, yellow, purple, blue, orange and green.

The show might have appeared jovial and bright on the surface, but its themes went deeper. “I was interested in the commodification of someone who spoke about commodity,” says Francis, of the Marx busts.

Next he “bounced back into a London residency in Highbury, run by curator Paul Bailey” and took part in a group show with the Florence Trust at St Saviour’s – a former church turned arts centre – in north London.

Francis’ work explored the financial crash, creating architectural interior-inspired sculptures that echoed the lobby and reception areas of big international bank buildings – complete with water features – as well as aping their corporate logos. 

“I looked at it with a sort of pastiche,” he says. “The lobbies of bank buildings and logos that don’t really mean anything – those visuals are all I know about that world. After the financial crash they’re sort of zombies, without the bravado or confidence they used to have.”

Francis notes the odd parallels of the show having been held in a former church, how the international banks he was exploring are (or were) institutions of their own; pinning the world together, with consumers worshipping at their altars of capitalism.

Next, he embarked on his MA at the RCA, where he is currently in his final year. Despite being based in a very different location, there are elements reminiscent of Camberwell College of Art, which he enjoys.

“We’re in a totally open studio, very like Camberwell,” he says. “You can’t make something and get away with it! It’s a good thing, I think.”

Francis clearly made an impact in his first few years, as he was then selected as the fourth exchange student from the RCA to be hosted by the Studio Art MFA programme at the University of Texas at Austin in the United States.

The exchange is seriously competitive, and gives a residency abroad to just one RCA student to go and work in Texas, and one UT Austin student to come and work here in London.

A little like relocating to London from Derbyshire, the move to Texas was a bit of a culture shock – but one that created a good frame of mind from which to create new, reflective work.

The resulting show at the university – titled Stick A Fork In It –was totally responsive to the environment in which Francis found himself: he went to Austin with no tools, no equipment and no work.  

“The university is next to a football stadium as big as Wembley,” he says. “So I was thinking a lot about polarisation through sport and American football, and its ethos – how it’s sort of a template, a moral code for life.”  

Francis was interested in how heavily engendered sport in America is – men playing on the field, with women dancing (or cheering) on the side – and how its expectations of women and men are outdated but still adhered to on the field.

He sees sport in the US as almost “allowing” people to go back to an old mode of living: “At this particular moment, the world sees an increasing number of changes to beliefs and social systems in which the realm of sports has come to offer refuge and a simple model for lifestyle, behaviour and relationships.”  

Francis is also interested in how sport offers a collective model for living that’s been lost in our post-industrial, increasingly individualistic, society. “One yearns to belong to something bigger than one’s self,” he says.

“Power is achieved through this collectivism, a power equated to an individual’s self-worth and control within one’s own personal sphere. Our collectivism is being defined more by what we are against, rather than what we are for. Conflict and antagonism, born from a mutated form of binary competition, is now our discourse.”

The show featured an imposing 10-foot-high red baseball cap, a symbol that Francis has focused on for a while. “I wrote about the red baseball cap for my thesis in the first year of my MA,” he says.

“How it’s been used from the French Revolution, then taken up by baseball players, then soaked up into sports capitalism and fashion brands of the 90s, and now adopted by Donald Trump.”

He says there’s something about the hat that seems to signify battle, but that it’s also something to hide behind: at the scale he created the sculpture in Austin, when you’re inside the cap it’s impossible to see out of it, or be seen yourself.

Another piece in the show is a huge, inflatable man – the kind often outside car show rooms, or advertising things on the side of the road. At first he seems whimsical and jolly, but on closer inspection it’s clear he is wearing a fierce “game face” rather than the smiley one you might expect.

Francis says he was inspired by the American football billboards he saw around town in Austin; displaying men in masks, baring their teeth and seemingly promoting violence.

While he was on this life-changing trip in Austin, another pivotal moment happened for Francis: his grandfather passed away. He had lived in the Philippines his whole life (Francis’ mother is Filipino) and the loss hit Francis in an unusual way.  

“I was in Texas, so me, my mum and my granddad were all at the furthest points away from each other,” he says. “It was an odd feeling of isolation and grief.

“He spoke a native dialect so we couldn’t really speak to each other when we saw one another every three or four years, so my idea of him really comes from stories from family, the old man sitting outside the house.”

The idea of mixed identity, but one part being dominant – “half of me is so over-assimilated that I feel like a working class English man,” says Francis – as well as a celebration of strong female role models in the Filipino home he remembers so fondly, will form the centre of his final show at the RCA.

“I’m making a dress out of a fabric woven from pineapple leaves,” he says. “It’s kind of like a ‘national treasure’, worn in the Philippines during formal occasions. It’s sort of transparent so feminine and slightly sensual, but it’s worn by men and women.”

Inspired by memories of women in the house cleaning, cooking and taking care of him and his sister, Francis will also recreate the coconut shells women wear on their feet to wax the house floor, in a sort of domestic dance.

These will be accompanied by other works such as a reimagining of a Tudor family portrait, full of symbolic objects and meaning; and a high modernist sculpture, inspired by the pot-bellied Filipino men that Francis remembers seeing sitting outside the house with their vests rolled up to keep cool in the heat.

With such diversity of inspiration and breadth of work, Francis Olvez-Wilshaw is one Peckham artist worth keeping an eye on.

............................

 Francis’ final show at the RCA is open to the public from June 23 to July 1, 12-6pm at the Darwin Building, Royal College of Art, Kensington Gore. francisolvez-wilshaw.com