#today's bread is: 'basic french loaf' but there's nothing basic about him!

[jaehyunasbread]

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[emospritelet]

KOL prompt-Zelena shows up next morning...Belle answers door in Gold’s shirt

Wow, you guys really want Zelena to know about this…

Kiss of Life verse

The snow had drifted in the night, and lay heavy on the ground in blankets of white, glittering in the first orange rays of the winter dawn.  Belle chewed her lip as she gazed out of the kitchen window, wondering if she would be able to make it to the hospital.  She supposed it might be easier walking than driving, so at least she had the advantage of her own two legs.  She poured hot water into the teapot, glancing up at the ceiling as her mind turned to Dr Gold. Stirling.  He gave me his name.  A nice name, if - unusual.  Like him.  He’s nice, in a - different sort of way.  And lonely, I think, even if he won’t admit it.

She busied herself looking for something to make for breakfast.  He was running low on eggs, milk and bread, and she resolved to get some while she was out.  If the store had any left, of course; she knew how people liked to bulk-buy the basics when storms blew in.  Perhaps they were used to fierce winters in this Maine town, and took the heavy snows in their stride.

There were only two eggs left, and about half a loaf of good bread, but a quick search of his cupboards turned up spices, and she took out cinnamon and nutmeg and started to prepare French toast.  By the time it was cooked, the tea was ready, and so she poured him a cup and set it on the tray.  The toast was golden-brown, sweet with the scent of sugar and spices, and she poured maple syrup over it in rivulets of deep amber.  The smell made her mouth water.

Gold was lying back with the damp cloth over his eyes when she entered his bedroom, but he had pushed the blankets down to his waist.  His chest was thin and wiry, his nipples taut and a light sheen of perspiration covering him.

“Oh good, your fever broke!” she said, making him start.

He pulled the cloth from his face, blinking at her, and clutched at the blankets, tugging them higher.  The light gleamed on his stubble, glinting gold and silver.  A muscle twitched in his cheek, and he seemed to look everywhere and nowhere, all at once, before dropping his eyes to focus on his fingers, twisting in the sheets.

“Miss French,” he said softly.  “Belle, I—”

“I made you breakfast,” she said cheerfully, walking forward to set the tray on the nightstand.  “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admitted.  “But possibly a little better than I did yesterday.”

She laid a hand across his forehead, nodding.

“Yeah, you’re still too hot,” she said.  “You’re sweating though, so that’s a good sign.  I’ll get you some more water.”

She turned away, and felt his hand go around her wrist, holding her there.  Belle glanced around at him, her heart thudding a little.  He was gazing at her with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Leave it for a moment,” he said, and hesitated.  “Last night.  Did I - I think I was dreaming.  Did I - were you in here?”

“Oh.”  The warmth of his touch was making it hard to gather her thoughts. “Yeah - you were having a nightmare, that’s all.  Go yourself tangled in the sheets, so I had to get you out.”

“Ah.”  He nodded.  “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s okay.”

She decided not to tell him about the bone-crushing hug, the repeated apologies or the fact that he had almost been crying.  Whatever the nightmare had been about, she doubted he wanted to relive it.

“I slept well, other than that,” she added, and he nodded, looking relieved.

“Did you say something about breakfast?”

“I made you French toast,” she said.  “I hope you like it.  There were only two eggs left, and not much milk, so it was the only thing I could think of.”

“French toast?”  He gave her a tiny, lopsided grin which was far too adorable to be legal, in her opinion.  “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“Well, eat up,” she said.  “There’s tea there, as well.”

“What about you?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Mine’s downstairs.”

“Well, go and get it,” he said.  “Allow me to have a little conversation before you leave me in my sickbed.”

He was smiling at her, and she had the feeling she was grinning like a loon in response.  She was suddenly very aware that she was wearing nothing but his silk shirt, and a blush rose in her cheeks as she wondered how it would be if she had spent the night in his bed rather than the spare room.  If she was there not because he was sick, but because they had spent all night wrapped in each other’s arms.  He reached for his plate of toast, and she watched the light play on his skin, the light sheen on his chest and the lines of shadow picking out his ribs and the thin ropes of muscle in his arms.  She licked her lips.

“I’ll - I’ll just get my tea,” she ventured, and bolted from the room.

She padded downstairs in bare feet, shivering a little in the cool of the morning.  The house was heated, of course, but there was still a chill in the air, especially when stepping onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.  She poured herself a cup of tea, stirring in milk, and the sound of the doorbell made her start.  Brow crinkling, she wondered who on earth could be calling at seven-thirty in the morning after a heavy snowstorm.  She set down the milk, trotting to the hall and opening up the front door.

Zelena Mills’ expression changed from a wide, somewhat manic smile to a frown of confusion, and then a nostril-flaring glare of rage.

“Oh, Zelena,” said Belle brightly.  “What are you doing here?  Is there some sort of emergency at the hospital, or something?”

“What am I doing here?” snapped Zelena.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, I stayed over,” said Belle.

“Half naked?” said Zelena, in a freezing voice, and Belle glanced down at herself.

Of course.  The shirt.

“Oh, that,” she said hastily.  “Well, I had nothing to wear to bed, you see, so—”

“Oh please, spare me the details!” said Zelena, in a withering tone.  “I’ve only trekked over here through driving snow to see how Dr Gold was doing and bring him some soup.  If I’d known you already had your claws in him I wouldn’t have bothered!”

“My - my claws?”  Belle shook her head.  “No no, it’s nothing like that.  You see, I had to take my clothes off because it was hot, and - and take a shower, so—”

“You must think I’m an idiot!” snapped Zelena.  “Well, flounce around half naked all you want!  I suppose we won’t expect you at work today.”

“No, I’ll be there,” Belle assured her.  “I won’t miss my shift, I promise.”  She gestured to the plastic tub in Zelena’s hands.  “What’s that?”

Zelena looked as though she had bitten something sour, her jaw working.

“It’s soup,” she said stiffly.  “I thought he might like it.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” said Belle.  “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

She reached for the tub, but Zelena clutched it tighter.

“How do I know you won’t try to pass it off as your own?” she sneered, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“Because I already made him some,” she said.  “I’m sure he’d like yours too.”

“Not if you do something to it before he gets to eat it.”

“Why would I do that?” snapped Belle, losing patience.  “Come on Zelena, are we seriously arguing about soup?  Just - just give it over.”

She tugged at the container, and Zelena snatched it back roughly, causing the lid to burst off and most of the soup to course down the front of her coat.  She let out a shriek that made Belle want to stick a finger in her ear, and danced back, losing her balance on the porch and falling backwards off the steps into the thick snow.  Belle closed her eyes at the soft thump as Zelena landed on her back, spilt soup leaving a trail of vegetables and lumps of chicken in her wake.

“Uh - are you okay?” asked Belle, and Zelena pushed up into a sitting position, her eyes flashing.

“If you say a word…” she said ominously, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you at work, then,” she said dryly, and shut the front door, shaking her head.

She went to the kitchen to retrieve her tea, and carried it upstairs, shivering a little from her exposure to the cold air.  Gold was eating his breakfast as she entered the bedroom, and popped a piece of French toast into his mouth, licking maple syrup from his fingers.

“What was all that about?” he asked, and Belle sighed.

“Zelena came to bring you soup and plump your pillows,” she said, and he shuddered.

“She’s not coming in, is she?” he asked warily, and Belle shook her head. Gold let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Please pour the soup away,” he said.  “I wouldn’t trust anything that woman cooked.”

“Already done,” said Belle, and smirked to herself.

[thatonewriterskaiyler-blog]

With Every Dying Breath

Hey all! Heres my third chunk for nano, and I promise one of these days I'll add read more cuts to my sections! Sadly, today is not that day. Anyways... Some valentines and sick dats shenanigans!!

I also realised I totally skipped over thanksgiving and Christmas, so I'll write those sections one of these days. Here you all go!

TW

Eventual chara death, ABO verse, three way poly relationship, hetalia, I don't own hetalia, pregnancy surprises, sick days, and some mentions of Gilbert's cancer and being sick, and mentions of cancer

~~~

February 12th

After three more weeks, gilbert keeps getting worse and worse, and the doctors decide to lessen how often gilbert comes in. This helps him get better, so much so, in fact, that after a few more weeks, the three share Mathews heat. Now, they’re preparing for valentines and have some special plans set up. Francis, as normal, is taking care of dinner and breakfast, while the other two tend to do presents or plan activities.

Francis and Mathew go to the store, shopping for groceries to pull off their plans. Mathew turns down the crafts and cards aisle, telling francis to go ahead. He places a hand on his stomach with a smile. He looks at all of the baby shower cards, and sees two he thinks will be perfect. Then, he continues to the paper and cutouts to make his actual valentines cards for the other two.

Francis takes his hand after they pay, heading to the car. “you have everything?” he asks with a kiss to the side of Mathews head. Mathew nods. “mhmm… I did. Did you?” he teases playfully. Gilbert, thankfully, was finally able to get back to work again after a month and a half of being unable to do anything outside of the house. Francis chuckles, and gives mathew a soft kiss.

“I did… it will be the best set of valentines meals we have ever had.” Mathew grins, excited at that prospect. They climb into the car, setting their bags in the back seat, as they enjoy a short drive home. As soon as they get home, mathew runs to his private nest room, and gets to work. He sets to cutting, and gluing, and planning.

In the regular valentines, mathew places the rings Alfred helped him buy last year during the valentines sale. The cards were individually written and made, Gilbert’s in the basic German he’d taught mathew, and francis’ in their native French. They had hearts and flowers an cute poems, and some pictures of all three of them.

The other cards… mathew smiles. He places a strip of ultrasound pictures. Hopefully, this wonderful news, will be another upward turn for them. A point of happiness when everythings been so bleak. He giggles happily as he closes them up, and seals them with hearts and lipstick kisses. Mathew knows it will be a big shock… they’d been told not to expect a child, as Gilbert’s treatments and francis being a beta had the odds against them, but a currently healthy seeming pair of twins… that would make their days.

When gilbert gets home, he knows that they’ve been up to their plans, and they know he’s been up to his. Not just work. However, no one spoils anything for fear of jinxing their current lucky streak. They eat quietly, and all snuggle close that night as they get headed to bed.

“how was everyones days?” gilbert asks with a soft yawn. Francis mentions some grocery shopping for the usual goods, and cleaning and relaxing. Gil laughs softly, kissing the side of francis’ head. “Ja… sure.” He teases. “I look forward to dinner in a couple days.” He kisses francis softly with a smile, and then turns to mathew. “birdie?”

Mathew just smiles softly. “my day was pretty relaxing… I went out with francis for groceries to get out and then rested most the day…” he trails off. Gil frowns a little, worried about how he’s been off, lately. Mathews been sick most days and gilbert was hoping it’s nothing, just a winter cold, and that mathew would be fine.

“you feeling okay today?” he’s asks with a small kiss. Mathew kisses back, and nods softly as he pulls back.

“I’m fine… really. Just a little headache.” He says with a yawn, nuzzling gils neck. Gilbert relaxes at this familiar action, and happily fall asleep, the three of them in a happy bundle.

The next day, they all wake up plenty early in order to eat breakfast together before gilbert has to leave. “hm… thankyou for the pancakes, birdie… feel better! I’ll call you at lunch.”he kisses Mathews temples before leaving. He frowns as he drives to work, once again more than a little concerned for his younger mate. He’s been puking since about a week after his heat, and it made him and francis both nervous, despite their lack of talking to mathew.

As soon as gil was gone, mathew stopped pretending and started eating ravenously. “I don’t want him to know how much work we’re doing today… I don’t feel so great, really, but… I also know throwing up will feel better on a full stomach.” He shrugs.

Francis sighs, and eyes mathew carefully. “alright… if you could please peel the potatoes and julienne the carrot, celery, bell peppers, and dice the onions, apples, and pears, I’ll make all the breads.” He smiles, kissing the side of Mathews head. Mattie nods, going to the bathroom and, predictably, throwing up, before getting started. When he comes out with a freshly scrubbed face and newly brushed teeth, francis knows and he frowns.

“Ma Cherie…” he gives mathew another kiss before they both set to work. Mathew julienned the carrots and peppers with a humm. He and francis dance around each other, each doing their tasks in a happy, pleasant silence, the sounds off chopping and mixing and the oven opening and closing greeting their ears. Mathew sits down at the bar when he’s finished with all of his cutting and peeling, and putting all of it into water filled separated containers.

“I’m really not feeling good now, francis… I… I should go to bed, I think… I’m not feeling good, at all…” he grains softly, resting his head on his arms and groaning softly. Francis puts his last loaf of bread in the oven, and washes off his hands.

“Ma cher…” he frowns worriedly, and picks up mathew. He carries the omega to their nest, where mathew seems to relax almost instantly. Francis lays down with him while the breads bake. He kisses the top of matties head, leaving when the bread should be nearly done. He pulls the bread out, and answers Mathews phone when gilbert calls.

“bonjour, Mon amour.” He says softly into the phone.

“where’s birdie?” gilbert asks, the frown evident in his voice.

“Asleep… we were cuddling and he said he was feeling dizzy.. So I took him to bed. Left his phone out here though. He still has no fever so I’m sure that whatever he has is nothing… okay?” he smiles softly. “I mean… I’m sure we will all be okay. All of us.” Gilbert agrees softly, and promises to be home early, and that he doesn’t work at all on valentines. Francis agrees with him that that’s for the best, and maybe Mathews illness is from gilbert being gone a lot again, rather suddenly, right after Mathews heat, when he’d only gone out for a couple hours at a time once or twice a week fpr the last two months. They discuss this possibility, and decide to rule that out before they get worried.

They laugh at the idea of Mattie being pregnant, thinking that there is no way that that could be possible. Hence, their worry. They both hung up, hoping it was just mate separation issues which, while still not good, would be far from the worst case scenario. Francis pulls the breads out, and hides them away so him won’t find them. Along that line of thinking, francis opens several windows in the house to, ‘give them fresh air. Maybe that is all Mathieu truly needs.’ And insists to himself that all is well.

When he returns to Mattie, he’s happy the omega seems to be far more relaxed than he’d previously been. He smiles down at him, crawling into the nest and playing with matties hair. After some time, he wakes up, and let’s francis dampen it and put his hair into French braids so that his hair Wi fall in meater sleeker waves than normal the next day. Gilbert loves when their hair is like that.

“Knock knock, birdie.” He smiles softly. “you look a lot better.” Mathew grins happily. “I feel a lot better too. Especially seeing you home…” he coos when gilbert comes and kneels by him, mouthing at Mathews neck. The omega squirms lightly and his face flushes, but ultimately he finds Gilbert’s ministrations to be very comforting. “Hmmm… all mine… my alpha. And my beta.” He says with a loopy, scent drunk grin as he grabs francis’ hand.

Mathew eventually manages to slip away long enough to put his real cards for valentines on the bathroom sinks of the respective recipients, and he puts on his own matching ring before lying down and falling back asleep with his mates.

The next morning, love is in the air. Francis works hard to make a breakfast frittata, savory and sweet crepes, and he even makes little mini pies with yoghurt. However, when he finally goes into their aster bathroom to wash up, his eyes widen at the card, and the ring, and messages, and the pictures… his heart melts right then and he can’t stop smiling,

“Fran? What’s up?” he asks, as he notices his own card. He pens it when francis seems incapable of responding, and his reaction is much the same. “birdie.. He even used German for mine…” he chokes up a little, and francis and Gil smile happily at each other. “today will be so awesome…” he grins.

“oui, Mon amour… happy valentines.” He steps closer to Gil, and they share a deep kiss before breaking apart and going to the dining room for breakfast.

Mathews eyes are wide, as he looks at the spread francis has made. Maple crepes, maple bacon crepes, sausage crepes, strawberry crepes, and everything else.

“Wow… so much food!” he laughs and smiles. “it all looks fantastic… thankyou.” He smiles brightly. Despite his recent decline in appetite, mathew seems to down everything francis puts in front of him, including every single crepe.

“Cheri… it is so good to see you eating properly again… how do you feel today?”

“in love.” Mathew says honestly. “and happy, and excited, and just… so whole. I have my two favorite men with me, and I know I’m safe, and I’ll always be cared for, and that’s all I need.” He smiles. Francis can’t help but kiss mathew deeply at those words, pulling mathew closer to him.

“Cheri… .I’m glad.” He smiles widely when they pull apart, Mathews cheeks holding a cute faint blush at the betas antics. They all laugh and smile through breakfast, and Gil announces they have somewhere to go. Things to do. The all exchange a few more sweet kisses before they get dressed.

Mathew wasn’t worried about what Gil might have planned, until they get there. One of those skydiving things. Mathew bites his lip, unsure on what to do. He asks an omega who works there, how risky it is.

“Well… here, we use a wind tunnel, you’ll never really fall, and we can make sure an instructor has home of your flight suit at all times… are you high risk?” the omega asks him quietly, in the omegas change room.

“no… not particularly, but… due to my mates’ nature or health… it’s a miracle that I got pregnant in the first place…” he trails off quietly. The assistant nods, and smiles softly.

“well, let’s get you one of the better flight suits then, shall we? We normally charge more for those, but… given this is a medical reason, we can wave that.” He smiles, and they go back out.

Mathew fills out his paperwork, checking that he’s pregnant, and adding a note that his mates don’t know yet. They all turn in their papers, and smile at each other, before the taller two hug mathew tightly between them. Mathew laughs softly, and gives them each a kiss on the cheek while they all go change. Mathew feels somewhat ridiculous in the big suit, but is excited enough. Skydiving is one of those things gilbert has always wanted to, and so he decided to make it one of the things he decided to do for valentines.

After nearly two hours of lecturing on safety and flight basics, they were finally allowed to go out to the tube. They watched the people before them all go, and cuddled close on the bench while they awaited their turn. When it was finally time, each of them first went alone with their instructor. When mathew went, and he went first, the instructor smiled. “how far along?”

“about a month… they won’t know till dinner.” HW grins softly, and up they go. The instructor kept a firm hold on mathew, and mathew was laughing, adrenaline going through his veins. He really loved the weightless feeling, and freedom of the wind on his face. By time he came out, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright and glossy, high on the adrenaline. His mates each came back out that way, too, and it was finally time for them to go together. The instructor had a hold on mathew and gilbert, the two most fragile of the group. They went up, for two minutes this time, hand in hand. After they were up and settled, the instructor helped mathew and Gil hold each other until it was time to touch down again.

“that was awesome!” gilbert says brightly, kissing each of his blondes happily. “we should definitely do this again some time…” he smiles brightly. “and it was just… wow. What did you two think.” Mathew kisses Gil gently.

“I this it was amazing… and I think the best present is this. You’re happiness.” “oui… I agree.” Mathew and francis reply. Gilbert helps them pile back into the car, now to his second location. He pulls out a bag he’d thermal packed the leftovers from breakfast and some soup in. “Hmm… this is good.” He geins, as they all eat.

“we get lunch and some more fun…this something a little more for you two, though...” he trails off. Ice skating. He’s taking them ice skating. Mathew grins brightly, excited to finally get onto the ice. Him and francis love skating, and most often ended up dancing together on the ice whenever they could.

When they get on the ice, they are instantly relaxed. For a little while, they happily glide along, all three linking arms and keeping close. Eventually, though, francis and mathew inevitably break off from Gil, and go dancing around the rink. Gilbert however, continues to just slowly glide around and watch them, their smiles and laughter the only gift he could ever ask for.

Eventually, unfortunately, they have to go home, and the rink needs to close. Mathew leans against francis’ shoulder, half asleep, as they drive home. As soon as they get there, francis puts the finishing touches on their dinners, and mathew changes and grabs the other cards. His second presents. He hums as he goes and sits at the table for dinner. Francis had truly outdone himself this time, and mathew eats his fill. However, he doesn’t touch his wine, which is unusual.

“You okay, birdie? You haven’t touched your wine…” mathew shrugs, and hands them their cards while getting up with his wine glass.

“it’s fine… I’m just gonna grab my martinellis.” He grabs a clean glass, and pours the sparkling grape cider with a smile. “there… perfect.” He grins. When he sees that his mates still haven’t opened their envelopes he frowns. “what’s wrong? Open them!” he cheers.

Gilbert and francis exchange looks, hoping mathew hasn’t gotten them more expensive gifts… he can only do so much work to trade as pay off with Alfred. They open them together, and the looks of shock on their faces leave mathew worried, when neither of them smile.

“G-guys?” he says in a small voice, clearly worried. Gilbert smiles softly. “Birdie I… I know you’ve wanted a babe, but… I don’t know if it’s possible…” francis nods in agreement.

“Gilbert’s treatments are expensive… a babe would be too… I mean, I want children as well chwrie, but… maybe not now…” Mathews eyes are instantly watery. His hands go to his stomach, and as he stares at his belly, he starts to sob.

“wh-what of… i-I was already pregnant… if those babies w-were ours?” he sobs softly. Francis bites his lower lip. “well… we’d figure it out. And of course I’d love them but… they aren’t…” he trails off. Gilbert notices first as Mathews sobs worsen and his body folds, as though he’s trying to hug his belly.

“I’m gonna be a dad… birdie! I’m gonna be a dad!” he Cher, pulling mathew close to his chest. “they are ours, Ja? aren’t they?” he asks with a big hopeful smile.

Mather sobs on gils shoulder, and nods excitedly. Gilbert pulls mathew gently closer, hugging him tightly and declaring that he’ll never let the omega go. Never. He smiles brightly, humming and crooning into matties ear. Francis, catching up to the situation, joins in the celebration.

“Oh… Ma cherie… I had no idea that… oh, I feel so dumb. Of course I’m happy, and excited… this amazing. A miracle.” He smiles brightly, kissing Mathew deeply and holding the smaller blonde close. Mathew nuzzles his neck, calming down and relaxing in the frenchmans arms. Francis kisses him softly. “I’m sorry… I really am happy… I promise…” he kisses Mathews cheek.

Mathew smiles, sitting back up and wiping his eyes. “it’s okay… it’s okay. This was a big surprise, I know… I mean, I’ve even only known for a week… so, it’s fine.” He laughs softly, finishing wiping away his years, and eating a few more bites. “Dinners good… thank you very much, francis.” He smiles widely.

Francis rolls his eyes playfully at the subject change and kisses Gilbert’s still smiling cheek. “we did good… non? A baby for valentine’s for our Mathieu.” Gilbertlaughs softly and nods back, laughing harder as he sees Mathews face light up bright red.

“You two…” he sighs. He smiles though, as he stands up and finishes off his sparkling cider. “how about we go watch some movies? Or head to bed… I’m feeling tired again…” he yawns, setting his plate and glass on the table. Gilbert and francis quickly agree, making quick work of clearing the table and packing away the food. Gilbert lifts mathew, kissing his belly and then his cheeks before taking him up to bed. The three curl up close in their nest, francis and gilbert on either side of mathew, cradling him and their babies as they all fall asleep, sweet lazy goodnight valentines kisses lingering on their lips.

A few days later, mathew wakes up for once without stomach pains and a headache. He stretches as he stands up, glancing over and smiling at francis, who seems to be as sound asleep as ever. He pads quietly out to the kitchen, and frowsn at the sight of a pale, feverish looking gilbert.

“Gil… babe, are you okay?” he walks over, feeling the alphas forehead and giving him a disapproving look. “you go back to bed… I’ll make some soup. Okay?” gilbert tugs mathew close, and nuzzles his neck. Mathew tries to wriggle free, but gilbert just keeps pulling him back tighter, and starts lapping at Mathews claim mark. At first, mathew is too shocked to shake gilbert off, but he quickly gets irritated.

“Gilbert Bielschmidt! That is too far!” he snaps. His loud voice shock the albino and mathew slips away. “that was a low blow and you know it. You are sick. Go to bed, now, and I will make you some soup. Whatever the publishers wanted you to do today can wait.” He says sternly.

“Birdie… I just want cuddles…” he groans, sniffling and wrapping mathew in a big once more. The omega sighs, and gently pulls away again, resting a hand on Gilbert’s cheek.

Gilbert starts nuzzling Mathews hand and the omega softens a little. “go snuggle Fran… okay? I’ll make us all some good food for the weekend… alright?” he promises with a light coo, leading the sick alpha to bed. He frowns at francis’ shiny, too Pink face and checks his temperature as well. He pulls his hand back with a sigh. Both of them, great.

Of course this has happened before, but it’s never changed the fact that it makes for a fun week when the two are sick together. Mathew gets a large pot out, and finds some beef he can cook up as the soups main protein. He adds in all the leftover vegetables from the valentines dinner that were never used. Adding more water, once everything is good and going, and putting a lid on it to keep it all simmering and warm. He sighs, putting a kettle to boil and preparing three cups of tea, before returning to their room.

He carefully carries up the two cups, setting them down on the table by his reading chair before sitting. He pulls out his book, reading quietly for a couple of hours until he hears one of them stir. Gilbert mumbles, sniffling and crying softly in his sleep. Mathew frowns, walking over and crawling into their nest. He curls up between them, not surprised when they both wrap around him almost instantly.

“loves… wake up.” Mathew kisses each of their foreheads. “please… I have tea and medicine for you both… wake up please.” He urges them quietly, starting to uncap the medicine. Francis sits up first, helping mathew pull gilbert uo so they’re all sitting. “here…” mathew gives him the syrupy substance first, then gilbert. He manages to get them to let him up long enough to grab their teas, before they keep a tight hold of him again. It doesn’t take long for the tea to be gone, and the two sick men to fall back asleep, mathew curled lazily between them, eventually falling asleep.

Francis wakes first, smelling a slight smell of burning coming from the kitchen. His head throbs as he forces himself to stand up, and investigate.” He curses as he quickly turns off the stove, moves the pot to the sink, and dumps a bowl for water over the small flickering flames from the burning soup. He sighs, relieved that it was small and put out before the rest of the house could wake up.

Bac I. The room mathew finds himself waking up shortly after francis leaves, so he decides to follow him out, but grabbing the mugs from their tea first. He curses softly as he sees the state of the kitchen, and smiles nervously.

“I just… was making you two soup… is it ruined?” he asks disappointedly. Francis silently removes the lid from the pot, and slowly tastes a little of the soup. He raises and eyebrow in slight surprise.

“No… but the meat and vegetables are a bit over cooked by now, Cher. But… it still overall tastes good. Everything is just very soft.” He says while he replaces the lid and walls over to mathew, hugging him close.

“I almost… the house…” francis kisses him softly.

“But you didn’t, Cheri. Gilbert I’m sure is still dead to the world… we don’t need to bother him with this. I’m not saying we should actively hide it, but… id say it’s not such a big deal to just simply not go out of out way to tell him.” He kisses mathew softly again, cupling the omegas face in his hands. When he pulls away, he looks deep into matties eyes, smiling softly, and moving a hand to the blondes belly. “and you and our little ones are safe. That’s all that matters.”

Mathew grins widely, and kisses francis back, a happily innocent smile on his face. He rests his head on francis’ chest and closes his eyes with a light coo. “thankyou for saving my soup… it would’ve been awful for all that food to go to waste.” He says with a yawn. “how about we share a bowl before going back to bed?” his arms moving up to being around francis’ neck rather than the Frenchmans waist.

Francis chuckles softly before nodding. “oui, oui, d’accord… un moment, sils vous plait.” He kisses the tip of matties nose, and best a big kitchen rag. He mops up the worst of the water as best he can without hurting himself, and then returns the pot to the stove, however he puts it on a different burner and keeps it off. He scoops out somesouo, but then disappears into the pantry for a few minutes while he gets some of his leftover bread.

He comes back out, and over towards the dining room side and sets down his bounty. He sits down, and pats his lap. “here, cheei… sit with me?” he smirks flirtatiously and mathew predictably blushes, while agreeing to the missive and sitting in francis’ lap.

“you two… so lucky I love you.” He huffs half heartedly. Francis feeds him a bite first, and mathew hums. He kisses francis’ cheek softly as they take turns spooning soup or dipping bread into the mushy but wonderfully flavor filled soup.

Sitting on francis had ultimately wound up being a good thing, because before they’d even finished up their meal, mathew was already falling asleep. Francis kisses the omegas cheek, gently hoisting him up and carrying him back to their nest. He lays Mathew into golberts waiting arms, before francis goes and returns with a slightly refilled bowl of the soup and some bread.

“here… let me feed you.“ he smiles softly, feeding the alpha.

“hm….this is good.birdies?” he asks, and happily gives the blonde in his arms a sweet kiss in thanks at francis’ nod. “how are you? I feel like shit still…” he trails off. Francis hwaves a big sigh.

“So do I… but er, the kitchen was calling for a helping hand… I guess what they say about pregnancy brain IA true. Plus… he’s always hated when we both get sick.” He reasons. Gilbert hums in agreement.

“that he has… but I’m so proud of him lately. He’s been… a lot stronger than I e seen him since before we all bonded.” He kisses the top of Mathews head. “I’ve notices that in all of our friends. The omegas… all really stlettled and got subduedafter they bonded. I mean… he’s still my birdie, I still love him, but… .I’m happy to see he’s. ..getting back to more him. He’s always been quiet but… when did meek become his normal?” he asks.

Francis sighs at the question. It’s one the alphas and betas all puzzled over regularly. “well… I think it was the binding hormones. Meant to… make a omega more docile I suppose… but… oui. I’m with you. I’m glad he’s getting more of his own voice back. Maybe… he’ll start to help me make you scream again… non?” he smirks devilishly at gilbert, who can’t help but laugh softly.

“sure… and pigs can fly.” He teases back. They kiss eachother softly, sweet and slow. Gilbert smiles as they pull apart, francis abandoning the empty Bo and curling up with his mates, warm and content in his bed.

~~~

Thansk to anyone who reads this!! This is just... Nano in it's truest form, ao eventually I will separate everything nicely into it's chapters and edit and all of that nice stuff, but for now, this is it's state!! That said, please leave criticism but any comments and questions are more than welcome!! Also, it's been a while and my French is rusty, so I do apologize for any butchered spelling and such here. Again, not the final version, I will make sure everything is correct when it's all prettied up later!

[republicstandard]

Archbishop Justin Welby and the Truth About the Economy

“All I’ve got is a red guitar, three chords, and the truth,” sings Bono, lead vocalist of rock band U2. If you want to call yourself a guitarist but don’t want to spend hours learning scales and chord progressions using diminished and augmented chords, learn three chords and accompany a simple song.

Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, is a three-chord guitarist. Like Bono, Welby’s got a red guitar and amplifier – his team of media hustlers who plant stories about their boss’s ability to play three chords and make the Archbishop sound like Andre Segovia playing Paganini.

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Like Bono, Welby’s got three chords: reconciliation (remember his motherhood and apple pie address at the UN last month?), sex (the gay and transgender agenda) and equality (i.e. redistribution of wealth).

Welby doesn’t quite have the truth, either. Welby’s midweek rhapsody in red is shamelessly splashed on the front page of the Daily Mail (was the editor so desperate for a lead story?). This is followed by Welby’s “sermon to the nation” dragged across pages 6 and 7. Welby’s high-strung homily is an exercise in semantic subterfuge, moralistic flagellation, guilt stirring, hysteria-mongering laughable inanities, flagrant contradictions, Bible-misquoting, and plain porkies.

It’s like Harpo, Groucho, and Chico Marx coming together; this time reincarnated as Pope Francis, Jeremy Corbyn, and Justin Welby, all on steroids preaching the fifth gospel according to St. Marx.

Britain’s economy is broken, hollers Welby! Really? Are Britons queuing to buy toilet paper like the Venezuelans who have been distributing wealth for decades? Is Britain on the brink of an economic cataclysm like the Great Depression of 1929? Is the Bank of England printing £50million bank notes worth $1 US as in the days of the Weimar Republic when Germans had to trundle banknotes on a wheelbarrow to buy a loaf of bread?

Britain’s economy is booming. Welby sheepishly (shouldn’t it be "wolfishly"?) admits to this fact but swiftly shushes it as if it is a Victorian child who must be seen and not heard. Has Archbishop Justin never read Aesop’s fable of the boy who cried wolf?

Welby tries to make a case for poverty. He wails:

"Chronically low pay means that a hard day’s work no longer keeps people out of poverty today: today, a majority of the poor are working families,"

How does Welby measure poverty? By focusing on income trends alone? If so, he falls foul of a major methodological flaw researchers are typically guilty of in their quest for “data opportunism” and the motivation to prop up a certain ideological agenda.

Income data and consumption data provide very different perspectives on just who is poor, note economists Orazio Attanasio, Erich Battistin and Mario Padula in their monograph Inequality in Living Standards since 1980: Income Tells Only a Small Part of the Story.

"Income, after all, is valued mostly because it allows consumption. Therefore, studying consumption directly provides a better measure of distribution of wellbeing than study of income."

Empirical evidence shows that consumption-poor households do not coincide with income-poor households and income-poor households report consumption levels far greater than their level of income. In fact, consumption of the “income-poorest” household exceeds earnings. Thus, many Britons who are “income poor” are not “consumption poor”.

Britain’s Office for National Statistics defines "poor" people as those who cannot afford "four or more essential items" including a one-week annual holiday away from home, a color television, a washing machine, and a car! Its report states:

"The largest gap between persistently poor individuals and the whole population was the ability to afford a one-week annual holiday away from home."

Welby doesn’t tell us if he is talking about absolute or relative poverty, primary or secondary poverty. Absolute poverty refers to the actual needs of the poor. It is not measured by reference to the expenditure of those who are not poor. “A family is poor if it cannot afford to eat,” writes Sir Keith Joseph. “Primary poverty has been largely eliminated; the Beveridge revolution has been carried out,” writes Tony Crosland. You can be poor if you can’t afford basic needs; or you can be poor if you can’t afford things other than the basic necessities of life – like three holidays a year in Lanzarote.

Economist Mollie Orshansky, who developed the official poverty measure used in the US, underlined the difficulty in measuring poverty. She observes:

“Poverty, like beauty, lies in the eye of the beholder. Poverty is a value judgment; it is not something one can verify or demonstrate, except by inference or suggestion, even with a measure of error. To say who is poor is to use all sorts of value judgments.”

If Welby were really concerned about what he calls poverty, he would first analyze its causes so he can propose solutions. But not once is there any mention of what actually causes so-called poverty in Britain! Is it bad choices, lack of education, dropping out of high school, family breakdown, divorce, poor parenting, drug addiction, poor stewardship of resources, excessive expenditure, or excessive market-driven consumption? Welby won’t tell us!

Correspondingly, he would analyze the causes of wealth. Are rich people getting richer because they are stealing from the poor – as is the case with certain rich people who are lambasted by prophets like Amos and Isaiah? But if a person gets rich by hard work, thrift, wise decisions, luck and taking risks – the foundation of capitalism – why is it morally legitimate to take what rightfully belongs to him?

Welby’s bugbear is not poverty; it’s inequality. He doesn’t love the poor as much as he hates the rich. It’s not that Britain’s poor have too little; it’s that Britain’s wealthy have too much. “Today the wealthiest 10 percent of households own more than 900 times the wealth of the poorest 10 percent, and five times more than the bottom half of all households combined,” moans Welby.

Doesn’t Welby understand that the economy in 21st century capitalist Britain is not a zero-sum game? Doesn’t Welby understand wealth creation? To cite just one example, the creators of Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube (much as I dislike their ideology) are young men who become filthy rich not because they stole from the poor. Rather, people like me benefit enormously from these social media giants without paying a single penny.

Very disingenuously, the Archbishop seems to suggest that the rich are to blame because they have stolen from the poor. Hence, his solution is to tax the rich till they bleed. Then we scatter their loot so “poor” vultures can feast on it. Britain’s economy needs “fundamental reform” because it is not working for all, he claims, but his pet ideology of redistributionism took off in Britain over a century ago with Lloyd George’s budget for 1909-10, which introduced progressive taxation.

Economically, Welby’s proposals are disastrous. Has he learned nothing from history? When Roman emperors began levying increasingly heavy taxes, mainly on the wealthy, partly to eliminate the Senatorial class, economic growth slowed to a standstill. Once the wealthy were no longer able to pay the State’s bills, the burden fell on the lower classes and ordinary people suffered. It was the beginning of the end of the Roman Empire.

Welby mentions Mrs. Thatcher in his Daily Mail diatribe. But does he not know that Thatcher wrought her economic miracle by reducing and not raising taxes? Can he not take a peek across the pond and learn how Donald Trump is creating jobs, growing the economy and helping the poor by reducing, not raising taxes?

Morally, Welby’s proposals are perverse. Re-distribution is immoral because it deifies the state as supreme in relieving poverty. It also has a peculiar doctrine of sin, which holds that economic inequality is itself evil. It then conflates these two very disparate doctrines by wanting government to “supply a subsistence floor beneath which no one may fall” and even more perversely “institute a ceiling beyond which no one may rise”, according to French economist Bertrand de Jouvenel who highlighted the immorality of redistributionism at Corpus Christi College, Oxford in 1951.

Welby’s ideology is also morally corrosive. It undermines personal responsibility by transferring authority for crucial life-decisions from individuals to the State. The state supplies our basic needs and leaves us only to decide how we should spend our pocket money.

If the state is going to confiscate large sums from the rich, it must invest this wealth. The state is not only supremely inefficient at investing, but by doing so, it deprives us from taking any initiative. Economically, redistributionism “has not significantly alleviated poverty but has instead substantially institutionalized it”, writes de Jouvenel.

But it is in his recourse to a theological justification for redistributionism, that Welby’s semantic subterfuges are most misleading. He writes:

“As a Christian, I start with learning from Jesus Christ that people matter equally, are equally loved by God, and that justice in society matters deeply – a theme that runs throughout the Bible.”

Welby is right. We are all equal. God created humans in his image and likeness, declares Genesis. God so loved the world that he gave His only Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life, declares John’s gospel. But to conflate the Christian doctrine of the metaphysical conception of the implicit transcendent worth of each person with the collectivist doctrine of equality of outcomes is not only wicked, it is bad theology.

Welby’s second subterfuge is to conflate biblical justice with social justice. He wants to "hard-wire justice into the economy". That is alarming. You can’t hard-wire your brand of "justice" into a free market without a totalitarian regime enforcing it. Justice is not redistribution. It is not equality of material conditions. On the contrary, justice demands individual rewards proportionate to the individual endeavor. This makes redistribution unfair and unjust.

De Jouvenel rightly noted that it has become "a loose modern habit to call ‘just’ whatever is thought emotionally desirable". Austrian economist Friedrich Hayek lambasted the "‘Mirage’ of Social Justice" calling it "a quasi-religious belief with no content whatsoever". Social justice was a particularly dangerous superstition, he said, describing it as "that incubus which today makes fine sentiments the instruments for the destruction of all values of a free civilization", leading to "the destruction of the indispensable environment in which the traditional moral values alone can flourish, namely personal freedom".

Welby’s most sloppy attempt at proof-texting is his appeal to Jesus’ discourse on the Final Judgement (Matthew 25: 31-46). Jesus welcomes the sheep on his right hand commending them for feeding him when he was hungry, providing drink when thirsty, and so on. Puzzled, they ask when they have served Jesus in such a manner. Jesus explains:

“As you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”

Welby twists this text to support his agenda:

“In that passage, He (Jesus) explicitly says that judgment is linked to justice, namely, in the way in which we treat those who are most vulnerable and weakest. Out of that extraordinary passage comes the Christian call to work for the common good and for the welfare of everyone in our society.”

Biblical scholars, however, point out that "the least of these my brothers” are Jesus’ disciples (or even the Jews). It is the ‘smallest brothers and sisters’ of Jesus who benefit from these acts of kindness and what is done to them is done to him", explains New Testament scholar R. T. France. So it is not a response to human need in general, but how people have responded to Jesus in the person of his representatives.

If Welby reads the verses preceding his proof text in Matthew’s gospel, he will be embarrassed by the parable of the talents. Here, the master entrusts the different sums of money to three servants according to their abilities and expects his servants to increase his asset value using the mechanisms of the market.

The first two servants double their master’s assets; the third servant is afraid to take risks. The master commends the first two servants for doubling his wealth and condemns the third servant for playing safe. Instead of redistributing wealth by taking it from the first two servants and giving it to the third servant, the master takes even the little that the third servant has and hands it over to the first servant who has the most money, saying, "For to everyone who has will more be given, and he will have an abundance. But from the one who has not, even what he has will be taken away" (Matthew 25:29).

If Welby reads Matthew’s gospel to the end he will know that the primary Christian call, the Great Commission, is not to work for the common good and for the welfare of everyone – it is, in the words of Jesus Christ, to "go and make disciples of all nations".

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The Archbishop of Canterbury is presiding over a failing church, which according to yesterday’s news has halved in membership in the last fifteen years in "unrelenting decline". Welby is neither Chancellor nor Governor of the Bank of England. As a three-chord guitarist, he shouldn’t pretend he is Django Reinhart.

Justin Welby wants to "hard-wire" justice into the economy. Christians should pray hard that Jesus Christ will hard-wire the gospel into Justin Welby.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine https://ift.tt/2Cy407j via IFTTT