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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

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Eddie was acting weird.

Well, he was always a little weird. But this was weirder than usual.

For one thing, he kept sneaking into the bedroom as soon as he got home from work, not even acknowledging that Steve was cooking dinner in the kitchen. He always came up behind him and kissed his shoulder before going to shower. Always. But not for the last couple of weeks.

Then, Steve noticed he would be on the phone with Hopper of all people. It’s not that they didn’t get along, they’d moved well past that, but they didn’t exactly seek each other out for conversations. He waited until Steve was in the shower or already in bed, which rubbed Steve a bit wrong. Eddie never hid shit from him.

But the turning point, the moment that Steve decided he needed to say something, was when Eddie went to dinner with Robin. Alone.

Eddie and Robin were friends. Some would even say close friends. It’s hard not to be when you face what they have together. But they always hung out with Steve.

So when Steve found out they’d been out without him, he confronted Eddie.

“What the hell are you up to?”

Steve was maybe coming off as a bit of an asshole. His hands on his hips like he was ready to discipline a child, his face serious, voice stern. But he had to know what was going on.

Eddie raised an eyebrow, not used to being at this end of Steve’s mom pose. He usually stood behind him with a smirk, arms crossed in front of his chest to emphasize his disappointment and amusement at whatever child had earned it.

“What do you mean?”

Steve rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“Dinner with Robin? Without me?”

“Am I not allowed to be her friend without you?”

Eddie’s voice had turned guarded in a way that it hadn’t been with Steve in years.

Steve paused. Something was wrong. Eddie wouldn’t be acting like this if it wasn’t something big.

But what could he possibly be talking with Robin and Hopper about secretly? Was he in trouble? Were they trying to charge him with something from years ago? Why would he go to Robin about that and not Steve? Why would he have to sneak into the bedroom every evening?

The math wasn’t adding up, but Steve nearly failed math two years in a row so maybe he shouldn’t try to make the calculations.

“Are you in trouble? I can help. We can go somewhere. Hopper doesn’t have to know. Is he helping you? He should, he knows you’re innocent. They can’t even charge you for anything anymore right? There’s like, a statue of limits or something?”

Eddie was staring blankly at him.

It must be worse.

Maybe he was going into Witness Protection and Steve couldn’t come so he was trying to plan how to tell Steve. Oh God, Steve couldn’t let him go with no idea where he would end up or what his name would even be.

“Eds, please. You can’t go. They may not give you a choice, but you could maybe write to me so I can follow you? I’ll change my name too.” Steve felt tears in his eyes, and he hated it. He hated that his reaction to this was panic and crying as if he was the one in trouble and on the run. “Do they know we’re a package deal? And Robin. Robin will have to come. Is that what you talked about at dinner?”

Eddie was still just staring at him.

“Eddie please. Talk to me.”

Eddie shook himself out of his stupor, looking down at the floor and mumbling something Steve couldn’t quite hear.

“What? I can’t hear you.”

“I’m taking you to Disney World.”

That was not a sentence Steve ever thought he would hear. Especially not from Eddie fucking Munson.

His first reaction was to laugh, but when he saw the way Eddie’s face fell, he stopped.

“Um. Okay. You’re serious,” Steve let his thoughts wander as he watched Eddie’s whole body tense the way it did when he was working himself up.

Steve thought about how they had watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade last year and saw a float from a new Disney film, he couldn’t remember which one now, but he remembered turning to Eddie and saying, “you know my parents never took me to Disney World? All that money and they spent it all on their exotic vacations and cruises and left me at home.” Eddie had looked at him like he broke his heart before he said “Wayne could never afford it so I never really bothered to ask.”

And it wasn’t that a lot of their friends had been. Growing up, more kids spent time at beach resorts or the lake for summer vacations. Disney was still so new to people, it seemed like a pipe dream for anyone who didn’t have at least a middle class income.

But Steve saw the commercials. He watched the movies. He secretly loved the idea of a whole park dedicated to the childhood happiness and magic he felt when he watched them.

But he never asked his parents, and by the time he thought he could try to go, he was “too old.”

He’d given up on the thought.

Eddie was playing with his rings nervously, still avoiding eye contact with Steve.

“You’re taking me to Disney World?” Steve felt his voice break as the realization washed over him.

Eddie was somehow finding the money to take him to a place he’d secretly wanted to go since he was a kid, even though it was a place he probably didn’t want to go, and he’d wanted to take him so badly he somehow involved Robin and Hopper in the planning process.

God, he loved him so much.

Steve stepped closer to Eddie, hesitantly reaching out to pull his hands apart and lace their fingers together.

Eddie finally looked up at him and Steve couldn’t help leaning in to kiss him softly.

“You’re taking me to Disney World.”

Eddie nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“How? When? Why does Robin know? Why does Hopper know?”

Eddie chuckled before he placed a kiss on Steve’s forehead.

“Robin knows because she’s been arranging everything. I couldn’t really do it here and work’s been busy so I couldn’t do it there. She offered to help. We’ve been planning it since last Christmas.”

Steve felt himself fall even more in love. Somehow, the love of his life and his platonic soulmate have been planning this incredible trip for him for six months and had only recently given anything away.

“Hopper knows because I did have to make sure I could leave the state. I know my name was cleared, but I just wanted to be certain. Then, he got involved with the planning because he wants to take El and Will this year.”

Steve was gonna start crying, probably any second. He could feel the lump in his throat getting thicker.

“I’ve been saving up anything extra for months. The kids all put in some money to buy your ticket. Mrs. Wheeler let me use Mr. Wheeler’s airline miles to book the flight so it was only about half the cost. Mrs. Henderson gave me her work bonus to put towards the hotel at Dustin’s insistence. Apparently she usually uses it to send him to camp, but he didn’t want to go this year. So. Yeah. Surprise?”

Steve was crying.

Everyone had played a part in this happening, and Eddie was the man behind it all.

Steve threw his arms around Eddie’s neck and jumped to wrap his legs around his waist. He did this all the time, so Eddie only stumbled a little before settling with his hands under Steve’s thighs to hold him up.

“I love you so fucking much,” Steve said against Eddie’s shoulder, tears staining his shirt. “Thank you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Eddie placed a kiss on Steve's temple, letting his lips linger for a minute before pulling away.

“So we leave this weekend.”

Steve dropped his legs, immediately panicking about the trip.

“What? What about work? I have so much to do. How long will we be gone? I’m supposed to bring Dustin and Will to a show Sunday. Oh no. I don’t even have a bathing suit. There’s a pool at the hotel right?”

Eddie kissed him, effectively shutting him up, though not quite quelling his panic.

“I’ve already arranged all that. Mike got his license and got permission to drive them. Robin got you off the schedule. There’s a bathing suit in the bag I’ve been packing slowly for weeks.”

“Oh my God, that’s what you’ve been doing. I’ve been standing here waiting for my hello kiss while you secretly pack things for a surprise trip to Disney World. I’m so stupid.”

“Hey. None of that.”

Steve nodded once distractedly. Yeah, yeah, no talking negatively about his own intelligence or whatever they all made him agree to.

“When were you gonna tell me? When we were on the plane?”

“As if you would have arrived at an airport without asking me ten million questions,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “I was gonna tell you tomorrow night at dinner. Will even made this card that had clues inside.”

“Shit, I ruined it.”

“Sweetheart, no. It’s okay. I won’t tell Will. You can still keep the card. It’s a really cool design. He made Disney World look like a D&D game, said you’d probably not get all of it, but thought it was cool. It is, and I think I want him to design a tattoo for me when we get back, but I may have to call the shop in Indy I go to and –”

It was Steve’s turn to cut off his rambling with a kiss.

“I can’t wait to go with you. I can’t believe you would want to.”

“I’d go anywhere with you, you know that.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #tumblr drabbles #steve goes to disney world #i believe in my heart and soul that steve heals his inner child a lot at disney world #is that projection i hear #nooooooo couldn't be #i do not have the time to continue this right now but maybe someday #or if someone wants to take this on i would give you a hug and forehead kiss (if i can reach)

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jojotier · 11 months

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the station looks like a tin can the more you drift; each blinking porthole window decorating the label as the space between you and the SS Atlantic turns the only home you have left into just another star in the sky.

the snap of the tether breaking in half is still the only thing you can hear.

you had your moment of panic, though. you clawed and struggled and tried to orient yourself in the vast emptiness of space and turned up nothing. there's still static somewhere in the back of your head and helmet as someone- shit, has to be Macy, there's no one else on board who shares your accent, your food, your history- frantically calls. you can't make out a single word.

you wish you could make a joke, here. put the poor girl at ease. she's young; still doesn't believe you when you say the old Terran dustball used to hold oceans of bioluminescent water and sugarcane fields far as the eye could see. you've been alive long enough to learn that being an astronaut and being a sailor aren't too terribly different, when it comes down to it. different equipment, yes; different tide, different gravity. same work songs. same dangers. same prayers.

you know prayers don't get answered out here in the black. the sea almost ate you whole when you were a child and now the void will finish the job.

they're probably mounting a rescue now. this is the first time someone unmoored has gotten so far, and the ship is full of young people and bravado. you wonder how the fresh-faced lieutenant's doing- never caught their name, but they have a kinda swagger to them under the color-changing twists and a voice to beat out the last chanteyman who led the songs. capable, sure. well-read, sure- but twenty-five is practically still a child's age, on your new home where nothing ever changes but the artificial seasons.

now, here's something new. it's a new problem. and truth be told, you don't got much oxygen left.

you've been out here for a long while. so you can't offer a joke or a condolence, or even an apology, as a girl's cries start making the static over the radio peak. if you could, though, what could you say? you lived longer than you thought you ever would. the dimming at the corners of your eyes and the itch in your throat remind you that you know what it's like to drown. you were always bound to die.

that doesn't stop the tightness in your chest as your shallow breaths, your sips of air, feel heavy on your tongue. your lungs are starting to notice what you've been putting to the back of your mind. coming to terms with your death isn't the same thing as accepting it. not really.

you don't move, even though conservation of energy doesn't make a difference. there's nothing around you but void and the fractionation of stars reflected off your helmet's glass. and the further you drift, the more they seem to wink out, one by one, as the distant station begins to disappear into the stasis of the cosmos.

over the comms you think you hear the lieutenant, maybe. it's hard to catch the actual pitch of the voice. just stops and starts, saying "come- we- are incom- stay tight-!"

it almost makes hope well up. you crush it the same way you did when you dreamed granddaddy being knocked off the mast and into the storm, the night before he went overboard just the same way. if you don't heed omens then you can't feel grief before it's due. if you don't hope then it means you can focus on passing on.

but it means you have to think. you have to think and hold still and ignore the way your skin itches under your gloves- ignore the static buzzing against your eardrums- ignore the

maybe you should give the last of your belongings? you don't even know where to start. give Macy the cowrie shells, because your grandma told you beading them in your rows would protect you and your granddaddy said they could tell the future. give the lieutenant your locket? it'd go good with their uniform, same as it did with yours, when captains cared for that sort of thing, back in the Atlantic seas your mother and your mother's mother and your grandmother's family had sailed.

you wanted to tell those stories. your granddaddy told you his daddy was a baker with one hand and made you memorize your great-granddaddy's name, so you wouldn't forget. you want to tell someone that name. you wanted to bring the memories of Earth with you.

so maybe those are your final words. maybe not.

you feel your heart trembling at a different rate than your ribs; your meat trying to squirm away from the bones keeping you hostage in this deep-space suit, waiting for the little gauge at the corner of your vision to hit zero. your lips open and they're cracking, splitting along the seams, and you say- what in the hell...

"---?" the static buzzes, "who-" but you're not listening, and the oxygen deprivation must be getting to you, because there's a dog floating in front of you.

you're in the deepest reaches of the ether. you can barely even see the light in front of you, because the stars are so much farther apart than you would ever think, and the earth you knew is currently being swallowed up by the sun so many billions of lightyears away, and there is a dog floating in front of you. and not just any dog, but Laika- and you know it's Laika, because your childhood dog looked just like her.

you remember because when you were seven you were crowded around the sole tv with five of your cousins and grandma darting, ducking in and out of the kitchen- offering guayaba here, tembleque there, eat a sandwich, have a coffee- and everyone was talking over each other because yelling is a love language when thirty close family members do it at once while trying to speak over the squawk of all the birds in their cages and the ticking knickknacks on the shelves on the yellow-painted walls- and because the tv was saying that the Russians killed a dog, the same Red-Scare tactic shit you didn't know you'd see a million more times, you were hugging Nena so tight that she was whining to be let go of. and you remember just holding on tighter because Nena was your personal Laika- looked just the same- and you could never imagine letting her go.

as you grew, you began to understand why humans forced the old girl to make the sacrifice. progress can only be done in increments. space, sea, frontier- all are unforgiving and yet so beautiful that humans can't help but reach. so you mourned her, as did the rest of humanity.

she floats in front of you now, her fur alight with stardust, bright eyes wide and locked on the lights reflected off your helmet's glass. the static burns brighter in your brain and her head cocks to the side, one ear perking up. you can't move more than the heaving of your chest as you've shifted to panting to try and gather back the oxygen you wasted by continuing to live even still.

you always wondered what the old girl thought, being left out here in the nothing. whether she was sad to see the world change so much without her being able to chase a single other squirrel. whether she missed getting her belly rubbed and treats and sleeping in the sunshine. whether she waited.

and maybe you're right about the last thing, because Laika's tail is wagging, and she pushes her head into one of your frozen, outstretched hands. even through the thick fabric you feel the softness of her halo-sewn fur, and it feels so much like your Nena that through the tears in your eyes you half expect to see your grandma walking into the room to tell everyone that dinner's ready.

and Laika yaps, bumping her silver-shining head against your palm and closing her eyes in delight, and you wish you could move. you wish the ice wasn't already settling in your joints. you want to pet her as much as she wants to be pet.

it's almost enough to make you forget this is an illusion for a dead man.

when Laika drifts slowly back you try to open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. it's no use speaking. you know this. you are drifting farther than the radars can reach and even when they do reach you, it will have been too late. more than that, what right do you, another creature lost to the void, have to ask her to remain longer in this frozen abyss?

your eyes start to drift closed.

you may have come to terms with your death, and you may just be coming around to accepting it. maybe now you are discovering that they really are the same thing.

there will be no more stories. there will be no more memories. there will only be you, at eternal rest, until the universe finally rips under its own weight.

there isn't anything more for you to do than wait for the end.

until you feel a tug.

eyelids unstick painfully as you stare ahead into the dark, and Laika is still there. you blink heavily, but each time your eyes open again, she remains floating outside. the mirage doesn't go away.

as you finally realize it, you notice the snapped tether she holds within her jaws. she tugs. in the vast range of the ether, you move a minuscule nanometer, and there's ice clinging to your bottom lashes as you try to tell her, that's enough now.

she tugs again. you move, but the distance is still too little. it's okay, you try to tell her, but she doesn't seem to hear.

she pulls and pulls with all her spectral might and you try to tell her you're so good- you're such a good girl- but please stop because it's not doing anything, really. you're still running low on air. you've already accepted your death, and now there's a pesky ember of hope burning at the bottom of your stomach.

humans have already done so much to her. you've already done so much to her, in an abstract way. you don't want to make a spirit cart around your damned corpse into eternity. but she still continues to pull.

the voices over the static are still shouting coordinates and asking questions, but you're distracted by the impossible creature trying to pull you back and the way the ice seems to retreat from your veins and the way, miraculously, the meter showing your oxygen levels begins to rise.

there's a sparking at Laika's heels like metal on the grindstone. she growls her frustration through teeth of platinum and her ears cock back as her muscles strain. and then, she runs.

the distance between stars suddenly shrinks into the size of a pin's head. you see constellations you haven't seen in years- Orion's belt, the Big Dipper, the Eagle. The stars fly by in a flash and yet you can chart the exact course as Laika's tail, more comet than dog, blazes through the night.

you remember now, why the jump from sailing to aerospace was so intuitive. navigating by the stars is in your blood.

and you can't help it. you laugh. because what else is there to do when relief balloons your chest out and makes your numb fingertips light? what do you do when you finally realize you're not going to die after all?

what do you do when you hear the young Lieutenant over the comms, comforting Macy, telling her you'll be found soon? when Macy says "Bayo, please-" and you realize you knew the kid's name after all?

what do you do when Bayo goes silent for a moment. when they finally ask, "is that- is that a dog...?"

what do you do when you're being saved by a ghost dog?

it's so beautiful, so ludicrously brilliant, that you can't help but laugh through the tears running hot on your cheeks.

and the way back isn't as long as you thought, but you sing regardless, and Laika's singing along with you, howling through the rope in her mouth with yips and starts as she runs you home.

#my writing #laika the space dog #laika #original fiction #science fiction #near death experience #happy ending #though so dw lol #god it's been a bit since i had the energy to sit down and Do This yknow #just write #that felt really good ngl

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birdy-the-tweet · 6 months

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Starting the thread for all Halloween based headcanons for Nexo Knights.

• Lance believes every superstition about Halloween being an “evil” holiday.

• Macy trades candy with kids to get her favorite ones.

• Aaron will often outsmart and spook scare actors at corn mazes and haunted houses.

• Clay’s primal reaction to fear is fight. He’s accidentally punched Aaron more times than he can count, and everyone’s starting to think it isn’t an accident anymore.

• Robin and Ava share bowls of candy while they watch the knights go through horror movie themed training simulations.

• Izzy is the undefeated pumpkin queen of Auremville for three years in a row. She always saves a spot on her throne for Fletcher.

• Aaron’s siblings will spam his messages with videos of their Halloween pranks and “evil parties” in the forest and beach. They even invited selkies once.

• Macy = addicted candy corn lover

• Clay = hates candy corn and gives it to Macy in exchange for peanut butter chocolate candies

• Axl once scared an entire family on accident just by standing behind them in costume. Needless to say, the knights got a lot more candy than usual that year.

• Clay isn’t a big candy person, only because he doesn’t remember what candies he likes. He’s taken a fondness to Reese’s though.

• Aaron only eats a little candy, for he’s not the biggest fan of sweets. He prefers apple slices and caramel dip.

#nexo knights #lego nexo knights #aaron fox #clay moorington #izzy richmond #macy halbert #lance richmond

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fzzr · 6 months

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Class Consciousness and Solidarity at Macy's

My first job as an adult was "Sales Associate" at a Macy's Mens store. Among other things, orientation included sitting and watching an anti-union video ("the only thing a union can guarantee is fees!") I was paid just above minimum wage, and I made not quite enough in an hour to afford a sandwich in the overpriced shopping center where I worked. I was required to wear a button-down shirt and tie (from Macy's of course) that I had to pay for out of pocket. Working part time, it took me more than a week to make back just what it cost to start working.

Now, to be clear — I wasn't living on just above minimum wage. I was in college and being fully supported by my parents. The job was just to pay for other expenses. I never finished college (story for another time) but I learned a lot of important things at that job. My time at Macy's was split into two parts. One three month stint during the holiday season, after which all part-time employees were laid off unceremoniously. Despite that I went back to work there for a second holiday season the following year, after which they kept me on (but laid off almost all the rest of the part timers).

Since I was a part timer, my schedule was erratic. I had a default location (ground floor, shirts and ties) but I filled in at pretty much every area other than shoes. The top floor was dedicated entirely to suits, including tailoring. The first time I worked up there, the regular employee explained how his compensation works. He got paid on commission, but only for certain items (suit jackets and blazers). I didn't get commission, I just had a daily sales goal. So the deal was simple. I would log in to the point of sale system as him when selling things that would give him commission, and he would log in as me when selling things that wouldn't. Sorry Macy's, you don't get to save on paying out commission by putting a part timer in suits this week. Who knew solidarity was so easy?

One day close to Christmas I was assigned to work at the regular Macy's on the other side of the mall, at a pop-up gift booth. My sales quota for the day was excused, since I was mostly acting as a greeter. The main department at the entrance was purses. At one point I greeted a shopper holding a purse, as I was trained to do with someone who looked like they were considering making a purchase. The regular employee for purses not-quite-ran up to interrupt and guide the customer to a register. This was fine with me, since it let me head back to chilling at the gift booth. Later during a quiet moment, the purse saleswoman came up to me and threatened to get me fired if I ever tried to steal one of her customers again. It turned out she was paid on commission too, though I had no idea. I promised not to do it in the future. This was an easy promise to make, as I would never work in that building again. I didn't bother offering to use her employee number to make sales. Since she had threatened to come up with a reason to bring the authorities down on my head, I didn't want to give her any ammunition. It turns out solidarity isn't so easy after all.

The most important formative moment for me at Macy's came one night when I was on the last shift. When I was closing the register in the jeans department, I saw an older woman folding and arranging the front row. As I passed by, our manager popped out of somewhere and started berating her for not being neat enough and ordered her to do it over. She didn't say anything, just looked at the floor and nodded, then went back to the start of the row and began again. Normally she would have finished up a while before me, but due to that whole business we clocked out at around the same time. At the employee exit, she came to me with tears in her eyes. Due to leaving late she wasn't going to be able to walk to the station in time for the last train, and wouldn't I please drive her? Naturally I agreed. She mostly said a lot of "god bless you" when I dropped her off with just a few minutes to spare. The train station was only a few minutes out of the way for me, but I would have driven her all the way home if we hadn't made it in time. Solidarity isn't easy, but it is necessary.

The guy at the suits department was a first-generation immigrant from India. The woman in the purse department was white. The lady folding jeans hardly spoke a word of English — I only managed to get through our brief conversation thanks to my then-recent high school Spanish. And the manager who almost left her stranded miles from home in the middle of the night? She was a Black woman. Other employees were fat, mostly deaf, or spoke no English at all. When the selective layoffs happened, those were the ones who got fired. At the start of the job I might not have noticed. At that point, six months in, it really crystallized. I wasn't a "better" employee than the rest of them. I was just luckier, because I didn't need to get off my feet as often to manage pain, could understand orders faster, and spoke English fluently with a local accent. The differences between us didn't matter as much as what we had in common. We were one thing, and the managers were another. The important thing was to be aware of that, and to act accordingly, with solidarity.

When I left that job for another one folding shirts and packing boxes that paid nearly twice as much, Macy's HR tried to make me a counteroffer - they would raise my Macy's wage by 30% and make me an "assistant manager"! Hilariously that was still below what I would be making at my next job, and I told them so. I also asked if I would still get overtime time-and-a-half as an assistant manager and the HR person conceded that I would not. Clearly that offer was trying to trick me into a different kind of exploitation, the trappings of a more powerful class without the reality. It wouldn't have mattered if they had beaten the offer from the new job, though. I knew by then that I never wanted to be a manager and risk the moral hazard of being pitted against those who worked for wages. Being a boss is poison on the soul. Act in solidarity.

#class consciousness #solidarity #original post

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

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“The Land before Time:“ The Gorge of the Río Grande del Norte near Taos, NM. Photo: Elijah S Rael (2023) :: [Scott Horton]

* * * *

The point where grace and synergy are reconciled is worth seeking out. In the meantime, here's a synergy-based perspective.

Being Acted Through :: by Joanna Macy

Here's a discovery we can make along our ecological Pilgrim's Progress: the discovery of what can happen through us. If we are the rocks dancing, then that which evolved us from those rocks carries us forward now and sustains us in our work for the continuance of life.

When I admired a nurse for her strength and devotion in keeping long hours in the children's ward, she shrugged off my compliment as if it were entirely misplaced. "It's not my strength, you know. I get it from them," she said, nodding at the rows of cots and cribs. "They give me what I need to keep going."

Whether tending a garden or cooking in a soup kitchen, there is the sense sometimes of being sustained by something beyond one's own individual power, a sense of being acted "through."

It is close to the religious concept of grace, but distinct from the traditional Western understanding of grace, as it does not require belief in God or a supernatural agency. One simply finds oneself empowered to act on behalf of other beings—or on behalf of the larger whole—and the empowerment itself seems to come "through" that or those for whose sake one acts. This phenomenon, when approached from the perspective of ecology, can be understood as synergy. This is an important point because it leads us to reconceptualize our very notion of what power is.

From the ecological perspective, all open systems—be they cells or organisms, cedars or swamps—are seen to be self-organizing. They don't require any external or superior agency to regulate them, any more than your liver or your apple tree needs to be told how to function. In other words, order is implicit in life; it is integral to life processes. This contrasts with the hierarchical worldview our culture held for centuries, where mind is set above nature and where order is assumed to be something imposed from above on otherwise random, material stuff. We have tended to define power in the same way, seeing it as imposed from above. So we have equated power with domination, with one thing exerting its will over another. It becomes a zero-sum, or win-lose, game, where to be powerful means to resist the demands or influences of another, and strong defenses are necessary to maintain one's advantage.

In falling into this way of thinking, we lost sight of the fact that this is not the way nature works. Living systems evolve in complexity, flexibility, and intelligence through interaction with each other. These interactions require openness and vulnerability in order to process the flow-through of energy and information. They bring into play new responses and new possibilities not previously present, increasing the capacity to effect change.

This interdependent release of fresh potential is called synergy. It is like grace, because it brings an increase of power beyond one's own capacity as a separate entity.

[Thanks to Ian Sanders]

#Scott Horton #The Gorge of the Rio Grande del Norte #Taos NM #Elijah S. Rael #Grace #synergy #Nature #Ian Sanders #Spiritual Ecology: The Cry of the Earth

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docholligay · 1 year

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35. Georgia

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I am LOSING MY FUCKING MIND about these lyrics. This song gives me a stroke every time I listen to it. This song seems like it was written by a robot and then Georgia collectively was like, “Yeah, this is fine” but did not have anyone who spoke English look at it.

Days in a row

I’m thinking I know

I have a big faith

My love is my crown

Will be better way

Will be better day now

It is not a secret

THERE ARE SO MANY SECRETS HERE, FIRST AND FOREMOST WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT. This is very “unfortunately I speak English” and I don’t know why they didn’t do the whole thing in Georgian where at the very least I don’t have to realize that everything is going so horrifically haywire.

The worst thing? The worst? WHEN YOU WATCH INTERVIEWS WITH HER SHE SPEAKS ENGLISH. LIKE, PERFECTLY UNDERSTANDABLE AND REASONABLE ENGLISH. IS THIS A GAME TO YOU, IRU??? DOES MY MENTAL HEALTH MEAN NOTHING???

Anyway please enjoy the video which is apparently sponsored by the Macy’s white sale

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#translated from the original European #Eurovision ranking 2023

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codytruther · 8 months

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Yet another screenshot edit! I've been feeling lazy and these are a fun way to draw my ocs without having to dig through tons of screenshots to see how the characters move

From left to right bottom row(Lucy, Marnie, Julie, Arthur, Sylias, Christa)

Left to right top row(Macie, Amara, Reggie, and Alek)

#total drama #td oc #total dramarama #screenshot edit

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lamaisongaga · 8 months

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FASHION CREDITS: JAZZ & PIANO SHOW 3.0

Lady Gaga finally returned to Vegas to continue the final 12 jazz & piano residency shows, and brought out an entire new setlist and costumes! Make sure to check out the other looks here and here.

The fashion was put together by Tom Eerebout and Sandra Amador with assistance by Kayla Manjarrez and Gianni Catalina.

The show also came with a handful of new visuals, including this one of LG enjoying a round of poker while wearing a dress Marilyn Monroe herself would approve.

The red sequined plunging stunner with halterneck, column skirt and flower belt detail is from Rodarte's Fall/Winter 2020 collection ($1,827).

In the same visual, she wears this absolutely divine plush black velvet column dress with deep nude illusion mesh panel and rows of pearl necklaces from Russian designer Kamilla Purshie’s Spring/Summer 2024 collection.

Let's get to the show! A label I've been eyeing for some time ever since being loved by the likes of Taylor Swift and Kelly Rowland is Taipei-based Nicole + Felicia who whipped out this fun beaded fringe mini dress for their Bridal Fall/Winter 2020 collection that any showgirl would love.

She topped it off with a new Arturo Rios Faux Grass white feather showgirl headpiece

Dita von Teese, if you please!

The Always Love You crystal-embellished silver hoop dangle earrings ($396) are made by Laruicci...

Shop:

Laruicci “Always Love You” Earrings ($396.00)

…while the Jimmy Choo metallic silver Anouk stiletto pumps provided the finishing touches.

Lady Gaga then devoured in this custom Prabal Gurung rose gold sunburst pleated silk lamé gown with hand-embroidered crystals and ostrich feather-trimmed cape.

Both her Hyperbola rhodium-plated hoop earrings with crystals in different cuts ($600)...

...and matching Hyperbola open cuff are created by Swarovski.

Shop:

Swarovski "Hyperbola" Earrings ($600.00)

The look was perfectly accentuated with these Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps coated in pink satin!

This was one of the, if not THE look most of you have been flooding my message inbox about.

LG stunned the Vegas crowd (and us) wearing a custom couture Rose Blossom metallic plissé gown by recently-gone-viral designer Robert Wun, whose been part of her wardrobe since 2013!

The silver-tone mixed crystal flower linear drop earrings are by I.N.C. International Concepts exclusively sold at Macy's.

The perfect shoe to complete the red looks of the show are by Christian Louboutin, who created the super fun Hot Chick Psychic metallic red leather slingback pumps ($852).

Shop:

Christian Louboutin "Hot Chick Psychic" Pumps ($852.00)

Another fun Robert Wun moment was this full look based on his Spring/Summer 2023 Haute Couture collection which went viral!

Signature peplum corset top in a bonded white satin, enhanced with silk taffeta ruching detail on the bust and lace-up back with matching large stole. Paired with a low-waist technical wool skirt with asymmetrical slit pleating details in anthracite.

Styled with a black & white 3D-printed headpiece with stripped coque feathers and long black gloves.

Hot, hotter, GAGA! Our girl twirled around the stage rocking a custom Garo Sparo fiery red showgirl beaded fringe bodysuit dress with hand-stoned crystal pattern and asymmetrical hem, inspired by old Bob Mackie pieces!

If you look closer, you can see that inbetween her fingers shines the Swarovski Hyperbola cocktail ring ($400).

Shop:

Swarovski "Hyperbola" Ring ($400.00)

Hell-o! Gaga brought out the best of Vegas' spirit appropriately decked out in the master of sexy dresswear: Zuhair Murad. And yes, this is the first time!

LG selected a sparkly fringe number fully embroidered in gold sequins and crystals of various sizes from the Lebanese designer's Fall/Winter 2022 Haute Couture collection, inspired by mystical arts, from Tarot and astrology to horoscopes and palmistry, to dispel the concerns of an unsettled age through the allure of their symbols.

She wore this augmented plummet shawl on stage, which was custom-made for her by Christian Cowan!

"Each ostrich feather plume was individually hand dyed to the warm tone of her exact Haus Labs shade of foundation, and curled to achieve a more dimensional effect before being embroidered individually by hand to a crinoline base also custom dyed to be her exact warm tone- all done in-house by our New York Atelier"

One of Gaga's most stunning Vegas-worn headpieces to date is another one-off-one bespoke Arturo Rios! This time: gold lamé leather orchid bouquet with large crystals peeking out between the leaves and buds.

She finished off with her previously-worn Jimmy Choo Anouk metallic gold pointed-toe pumps!

The finale look of the show sees Gaga wearing a bespoke Topo Studio NY plush black silk velvet gown with attached tails to the wrists, embroidered with over 400 cosmic crystals.

The fun feather headpiece with crystallized cap was custom-made for her by Binata Millinery.

For this look she wore Jimmy Choo's Romy black patent leather pointed-toe pumps.

#Kamilla Purshie #Prabal Gurung #Nicole and Felicia #Topo Studio NY #Garo Sparo #Robert Wun #Rodarte #Arturo Rios #Binata Millinery #Swarovski #Laruicci #INC International Concepts #Christian Louboutin #Jimmy Choo #Zuhair Murad #Christian Cowan

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harrowharkwife · 6 months

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tell me about i wanna hold the hand inside you <3

i wanna hold the hand inside you (strange you never knew)... LOTTIENAT FIC MY BELOVED!!!

this is the pre-crash '96 lottienat best friends to lovers fic where, bless her heart, nat's crush on lottie has her juuuuust lovedumb and besotted enough to not realize that when lottie says things like "oh i stopped drinking a couple hours ago so i could drive you home from this party," or "oh you should just stay at my place tonight so i can keep an eye on you," or "next time you drop acid you should do it at my house so i can tripsit you," what she MEANS is, yes, "i care about you and want you to be safe," but ALSO, "i'm so in love with you it makes me look stupid and have thus painstakingly crafted a seduction plan i like to call Harm Reduction-ing My Way Into Your Heart"

snippet!!

Which, like, in her defense- she's high as a kite, and Lot's wearing that long lilac satin slip dress she stole from Macy's last summer over a black high-neck pussybow blouse with long, gauzy sleeves. Knowing Lottie, she's willing to bet good money that it's the kind of blouse that has a neat row of buttons running all down the back, the fancy gumdrop-shaped satin ones that always remind her of old wedding dresses. Lottie likes that kind of thing. It's the kind of outfit that somehow manages to make Nat feel downright Victorian despite its overall modesty: a bizarre sort of dizziness at the sight of exposed wrists or a bare neck, like she might faint just from glimpsing an inch or two of shin. Ridiculous. Lottie being unreasonably pretty is nothing new, but it's also just one of those facts of the universe that's generally easier to deal with if Nat avoids looking straight at it. In any case: it's a day that ends in -y, Natalie Scattorcio is privately salivating over a pretty girl again like one of Pavlov's gay little purse dogs, and Lottie Matthews is hurtling over speed bumps like it's her job, none of which are surprising in the slightest. Especially that last part. Lot's just like this, is the thing. Nat would like to think she's gotten used to it by now, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part, because no matter how zen you are in the passenger seat, Lottie Matthews can seemingly always manage to find another curb to hit. They get home safe in the end though, of course- they always do. Lottie's careful where it counts. Which, speaking of- "Careful, watch the step," Lottie cautions, as if Nat's traversing this driveway for the first time or something, which is laughable in light of the fact that she'd arguably spent more time at Lottie's place than her own over the course of the summer. But the laugh in her voice rings warm and rich in Nat's ear, and she reaches out to steady her with a hand at her waist, so Nat says nothing in lieu of letting Lottie fuss over her a little. Which is probably for the best, because she trips over her own feet ten seconds later, and Lottie's grip on her waist is the only thing that narrowly saves her from tumbling ass over tits over bootlaces as they make their way up the front steps of the Matthews McMansion. Her luck ends there, though: Lottie manages to keep her upright, but not even Mother Mary herself could have saved Nat from the humiliation of puking, rather violently and spectacularly, over the railing and onto Mrs. Matthew's bed of marigolds. "Oh, honey. At least you've got good aim. Let's get you cleaned up, c'mere." "Please, let's," Nat agrees, weakly. Hail Lottie, full of grace.

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megafreeman · 1 year

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#saints row #saints row reboot #sr #srr #OC: Macy

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middleearthpixie · 1 year

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Seven Days ~ Chapter Twenty-Nine

Firefighter Frerin Durin died in a fire set deliberately. But after he helps his brother, Thorin find happiness, Frerin is offered a second chance. He has to prove himself worthy by righting the one major wrong in his life. Otherwise, history will repeat and he will die for good this time. The catch? He has seven days in which to do this and isn’t even certain what his major wrong is.

At least, he doesn’t know for long.

Syd Prescott has known Frerin since high school. She spent one night with him and then he vanished from her life. Now, he claims he wants to make it up to her, to right was he realizes was his major wrong. But can she trust him? And can he prove to her that she can before it’s too late?

Pairing: Modern!Frerin x OFC Syd Prescott

Characters: Frerin, Syd, Alex, Thorin, Gram, Christina

Warnings: none

Rating: M

Word Count: 2.5K

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

The mall normally closed at nine, but because of the Christmas rush, they extended their hours to eleven. Syd tried to ignore the flutters in her belly as she and Gram sat in Gram’s Lexus, in the parking lot closest to Macy’s. They both figured that since Harper’s Jewelers was at that end of the mall, this entrance made the most sense for Christina to use.

It was almost eleven and as the minutes ticked away, Syd felt calmer with each one. This was going to work. It had to. She didn't want to think about the alternative if it didn't work.

It will work.

Little by little, the parking lots emptied until only a few cars remained. Syd could only hope one of those cars was Christina’s. It might have been just her imagination, but it felt as if her nazar warmed as several women emerged from the west entrance. Warmed and then, as they went their separate ways, began humming against the hollow in her throat.

“Is that her?” Gram asked, nodding toward a woman two rows down, heading toward a dark colored Honda Pilot.

Syd nodded. “Yeah. That’s her.” She looked over at Gram, who didn't take her eyes off Christina. “You promise me you won’t back out, right?”

Gram nodded slowly. “I promise you, Syd. I won’t back out.”

“Okay. Are we ready?”

“No.” Gram reached across the Lexus’ interior and caught her by the hand to give Syd’s a squeeze. Gram’s hand was wrinkled and thin, her knuckles slightly swollen from arthritis, but there was absolutely no weakness in her grip. “I trust you, Sydney. You have to trust me as well.”

“Gram, there is no one I trust more.”

“Except your future husband.”

Syd smiled and bobbed her head. “Except for my future husband, which is weird to think about, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.” Gram gave her another squeeze, then pulled her hand away. “Let’s go.”

Syd took a deep breath and pushed open the door to climb out into the chilly, clear night. Gram had made certain to park out of the halo of light from the poles scattered about the parking lot, and Syd dressed in black to minimize the odds of being seen too early.

Christina had her back to Syd, and as she reached for the handle on the driver’s side door, Syd cleared her throat. “Where are you going?”

“How did I know it was you over there?”

“I don't know. Lucky guess?”

Christina turned around and Syd almost stepped back reflexively at the sheer ice in Christina’s otherwise flat dark eyes. They reminded Syd of river rocks—cold, shiny, and void of any emotion whatsoever. “You are a fool, you know. What can you possibly do to me?”

“Why won’t you just let him go? You know he’s happy here. Being here is all he wanted, why do you think he fought so hard to stay here?”

Christina shook her head. “Change is scary. It’s uncomfortable. He missed his mongrel dog and his blockhead brother and apparently you.”

“I didn’t think jealousy was something you felt in heaven.”

“Heaven? Is that what he told you it was?” Christina shook her head. “That’s not how it works, honey. You don't get an automatic pass. You have to prove yourself.”

“He is a firefighter. He’s already proven himself.” Syd stepped closer now, her heart slowing down as anode calmness set in. “But you… you’re a different story, aren’t you? You sacrificed kids to save your own skin and for what? He still got you, didn't he? How old were they, Tori? High school? Middle school? Were they little kids who only barely had a chance to be alive before you knocked them into the path of an AR-15 to save yourself?”

“Shut your filthy mouth.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Syd shook her head, mindful of the soft creak of Gram’s car door opening, following by the sound of her feet on damp pavement. She tried to ignore it, tried to focus on Christina. “Little kids. Was it worth it? What I want to know is, how did you get a second chance? What you did was shitty.”

A hint of triumph gleamed in her eyes. “We all get a second chance. I was put with Frerin so he could show me how to be a saint, like the Big Guy saw him.”

“He ran into burning buildings to save lives, Christina. You pushed little kids down and trampled over them to save your own. There is a world of different between you and Frerin.”

“Syd, what are you doing?”

“I’m fine, Gram,” Syd called without turning away from Christina. “Just having a chat with an old friend.”

“Be careful, Syd. You don’t know what she might do.”

“Yes, Sydney,” Christiana whispered. “You don't know.”

“I’m fine.” Syd shook her head. “And I’m done with you. He doesn’t want you, Tori. He’s never wanted you.”

“He will.”

“No. He won’t.”

“Sure he will.” Now a hint of warmth gleamed in those river rock eyes as Christina offered up a triumphant smile. “You’ll see.”

Frerin couldn’t sit still. He paced the length of the kitchen endlessly, even as Alex said, “Please, you’re making me seasick, Frerin. Sit down.”

“I can’t. Al, I feel like I’m going to lose my fucking mind. How could I let her talk me into thinking this was a good idea?”

“Because you trust her?”

“Yeah.I trust her. I don't trust the dead bitch who wants to see me dead as well.”

“Frerin,” Alex rose from her chair and came around to step in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders to halt his pacing, “please… she’s going to be okay. She’s got Gram and her gifts and it’s going to be fine.”

“Yeah? You think so? What if we are all wrong, Al? What then?”

“That won’t happen.”

Thorin thudded into the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket. “What won’t happen?”

Frerin looked at Alex. “You tell him. He’s heard enough crazy shit from me the last few weeks as it is.”

“Tell me what?�� Thorin looked from him to Alex and back. “Someone tell me what’s going on?”

“Syd is confronting Christina.”

“Christina.” Thorin turned to him. “The crazy woman from the jewelry store? The one who thinks she’s the undead?”

“Not undead,” Frerin sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “She is dead. An angel, or so I thought, but I don't know now. I always thought angels were good.”

“Well, remember, Satan was a fallen angel, so…” Alex sighed softly. “Syd has a plan to get rid of her and Frerin is freaking out about it.”

“Frerin is freaking out,” Frerin replied, “because Syd’s plan is to sacrifice herself. That’s why Frerin is freaking out.”

“What?” Thorin’s eyes were almost perfectly round. “She’s going to what?”

“She is going to let Christina inhabit her body, just like she took over Christina’s body. And when she does, Syd is going to get as far away from Christina and Gram and let Gram shoot her.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Alex?” Thorin’s voice echoed off the kitchen walls. “And you’re letting this happen?”

“It’s not up to me, Thorin. It’s not up to me or Teddy or Charlie or Gram or Frerin or you. It was Syd’s decision and I trust she knows what she’s doing.”

“And this is also why I’m freaking out.” Frerin threw himself down into Alex’s vacated chair. “It’s insane.”

“So, what happens after Gram—Mahal, I can’t believe I’m saying this—shoots her?”

“She goes to wherever Tori went and Frerin went when they first died and she gets her second chance.”

“Alex,” Thorin’s voice went strangely calm, as if he was talking a jumper down from a bridge, “do you hear what you’re saying? How do you know that’s what will happen?”

“I don’t. Not with one hundred percent certainty, anyway. But, you got a second chance,” she pointed to Frerin, “and I assume Tori did at some point to, so why wouldn’t Syd?”

“Then why didn't your parents get a second chance?” Thorin asked softly.

Alex blanched, and for a moment, looked as if he’d punched her in the stomach. But then, tucking a wayward black curl behind her left ear, she said, “I assume they either chose not to accept it or they weren’t given one because of something they’d done that Gram has never told us about.”

Frerin drummed his fingers against the table and glanced at the clock. Ten-forty-five. “We can still make it to the mall before it closes, T.”

Thorin reached for his jacket and tugged his cell from the pocket. “I’m going to call this in and let CFPD handle it.”

“No,” Alex caught him by the wrist with one hand and plucked the phone free with the other, “neither of you is doing anything. Let Syd handle this. She knows what she’s doing.”

“She does not know what she’s doing,” Frerin countered, rising once more. “She’s never been dead, Alex. She hasn’t got a fucking clue what she’s doing and if she’s wrong, she won’t be back.”

“And neither will Tori and that’s all Syd cares about,” Alex reminded him softly. “You have to trust her.”

“Al,” Frerin’s voice cracked, “if she’s wrong, that’s it. She’s gone.”

“I know. And she knows, too.”

“It’s fucking insane.”

“Yep.”

“And we’re letting her do it.”

‘We don't have a choice, Frerin.”

“Lex, let me call for the rescue squad, then,” Thorin said, reaching to pull his phone from her grasp.

“You can’t.” She shook her head again. “She can’t be revived, Thorin. Any paramedic or EMT or cop touches her too soon, and Tori will simply slip into that body and go on her merry way. This is the only way it can work. This is how it has to be.”

Frerin’s gut roiled, bile rising in his throat as a brackish taste flooded his mouth. He bolted from his chair, to the half bath off the kitchen, just making it in time as he was sick. He sank to his knees before the toilet, gagging and heaving until there was nothing left to bring up, then sank back against the plum colored wall, head back, eyes closed.

Alex crouched beside him, pressing a towel into his hand. “It sucks. I know it sucks. But, you have to trust Syd knows what she’s doing, Frerin. I’ve known my sister literally all my life and I know what she can do and I trust her more than I trust just about anyone.”

He let his head loll in her direction. Where Syd’s eyes were that perfect blend of sea and sky, Alex’s were pure green. Green and direct. “I don't want to lose her, Al.”

“You won’t. And why do you call me Al?”

He offered up a weak smile. “Because I like it.”

“Yeah, but since when?”

He shook his head. “Ask me when this is all over, okay?”

“It’s from when you were dead, isn’t it?” She looked up at Thorin, who’d come up behind her. “Do you know why he calls me that?”

Thorin shook his head. “No. Aside from the fact that he’s Frerin and does what he wants.” He reached over Alex’s shoulder, a can of ginger ale in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks, T.” Frerin took the can and popped the top, then brought it to his lips for a small sip, just like his mother would insist he do when he was a little kid and had a stomach flu. Then he sighed and let his eyes close once more. “When will we know if this works?”

“When Syd comes through the front door.”

“Syd, step back.”

Christina’s dark eyes flicked slightly upward, and Syd knew she looked at Gram. “I’m fine, Gram.”

“You should have listened to your grandmother.”

Syd’s jaw clenched involuntarily as Christina grabbed her by the wrist. Icy cold bit into her with fangs as sharp as razors, and spread up through her arm. The cold burned, crackled and snapped as it swept through her, unlike anything she had ever felt before and it took every ounce of will she possessed to not jerk back, to not free herself. Christina’s eyes widened, glowing almost amber, her smile all teeth and gums now and filled with triumph.

You stupid little fool. You are no match for me.

Syd ignored the cliché villainy frothing from Christina’s lips. Instead, she focused on Frerin. On what she would lose if she failed.

But the cold overtook her. Icy. Burning. Hot. Freezing. Her head spun and her stomach roiled and the feeling of being crowded in her own skin was the most unpleasant sensation ever to course through her.

He will think I’m you, you dumb bitch. And he will never know the truth.

The hell he won’t. Syd clenched her free hand until her fingernails bit into her palm.

So, this is what it feels like to be you. And soon, I’ll know what it’s like to be with Frerin. Too bad for you.

The oily voice grew harsher, and the cold began to fade. Every instinct screamed for Syd to jerk back and free herself from the force that was Tori filling her. If she broke contact now, she could fight Tori out of her body and back into Christina’s.

If she broke contact now, all would be lost.

She had to wait. Ignore the cold. Ignore the heat. Ignore the pain. Ignore the taunts.

Focus on the end game.

“Syd?” A hint of panic wove into Gram’s voice but Syd knew her well enough to know it wasn't genuine. Gram trusted her.

The old lady is panicking. You should have listened to her.

Syd let her eyes close as the vibrations that had rippled thorough her slowed. She saw Christina stagger back, saw her slump up against her car and as she did, Syd gritted her teeth and forced her body to obey her one last time.

She spun around, away from the Honda Pilot, staggering back herself so she wouldn’t touch Gram.

As she did, Gram calmly lifted the Glock she usually kept in the shop, and in one fluid motion, aimed and fired.

The scream that pried itself from her lips was not Syd’s voice. Syd felt the heat from the bullet, felt it tear into her, felt the warm rush of her own blood and the intense pain of torn flesh and shredded muscle, of hot metal ripping through soft organs.

Get to the old woman! Do as I say and touch her, you bitch.

Tori tried to make Syd’s legs obey, but it was of no use. The blast knocked her back, she staggered and fell, only barely hearing the thud of her head hitting the pavement.

Do it!

Tori forced her onto her stomach and Syd’s vision swam as she fought to focus on Gram, to make sure she stayed well out of reach. Tori tried to take her voice, but as she tried to speak aloud, Syd coughed and blood bubbled to her lips, hot and coppery.

You worthless bitch, you can’t do this.

“I can,” Syd managed as the cold set in once more. Only this cold was different. This was the cold of her life draining away with each beat of her her heart. Tori could try to force her to move, but even as she managed to make Syd’s arms drag her toward Gram, Gram just backed away, maneuvering herself between Syd and Christina.

Syd’s eyes didn't want to focus. Her thoughts grew sluggish. And as the light in the parking lot faded, she smiled as Tori let out an unearthly howl and in an instant, was gone.

Then everything went black.

#Gerard Butler #Frerin Durin #Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Frerin x OC #AU #Frerin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Modern AU

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