#Picket Weasel

[weaselnerd]

It’s all done!

Thank you @basiabd and @shy-nightmare for letting me make your oc’s!

I even made pepper so that Kipper and Picket arent missing they’re sister

Thank you so much for giving me the honor to add them to the collection and I’m so happy how they came out and I hope you are too!

Unrelated but I made Wheezys hat for my Halloween costume!

[basiabd]

Day two Winter coat/outfit, i had another drawing planned but didnt do it. So just take this for now (i might do the drawing later)

Outfits from the 1940s with kipper, picket, pepper (owned by @weaselnerd) and mama reader

[trashogram]

Tbh helluva boss reader I would want to be elegant and probably almost like an eldritch being (cause that’s cool). But also so I can have a reason for her to obscure her face (the reason I give her vails is to keep her face ambiguous and so people can put themselves into that place). I also like the idea that kipper and picket were given to her as like servants, but then she got really attached and now she consider them her kids. Idk how she would know the toon patrol, maybe they are bodyguards of some sort so that she has constant protection.

The veils are appreciated to continue the anonymity of the Reader 😊👌

🥺 Eldritch Abomination!Reader adopting the little imps that were gifted to her as servants and also have a reverse harem of bodyguards in the TP?! Yes please 🙏

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU - If his parents are going to treat him like a punk, he might as well lean into it. 

Danny is getting seriously worn down by his parents constantly asking him to explain why he’s gone all the time and why his grades have slipped so far. I mean, sure, it took them months to notice, but now that they have, they’re alluding to the fact that he’s turned into some kind of punk and that he’s not taking life as seriously as he should be. This is what makes Danny kind of snap. 

He cuts his hair, gets Sam to pierce his ears in a few places (which sucked but was nice to catch up with her since Team Phantom didn’t get out much anymore), learns how to skateboard and gets Tuck to help him mask his identity on the internet as he begins online protesting the unethical treatment of ghosts. He makes picket signs that he leaves outside of Fentonworks and it takes days before his parents see them because they’re down in the lab. They go back up immediately after his parents take them down, and he begins tagging buildings with protest sayings and art all over amity park.

No matter how they ground him, the Drs Fenton are at a loss as to what to do to control Danny. Jazz says it’s not her place to interfere and is cheering her little brother on for being passionate about a new hobby. 

Danny’s honestly really vibing with the changes. He always understood why Sam wanted control over her own look, but he’s really leaning into the whole shebang. Ember and Johnny13 have never bonded over anything more than they have the punk transformation of their King. He’s really representing them fr fr- she taught him how to play the bass. 

With enough protests about the Anti-Ecto acts, the JL step in and begin their efforts to lobby change within the US government. Constantine is up to date on the new King being from Earth and thinks they might be able to weasel out a non-apocalyptic scenario if they reach out sooner than later. A letter gets sent through the infinite realms (No way in fuck was John going to try and summon a fucking King excuse you Bats)- Danny gets the letter and decides to let them sweat a bit, sending back his own letter that just says “K.” cause he’s learned that adults/authority figures all suck ass until proven otherwise. After a few days, a portal opens up in the middle of their meeting. 

Ghost King Phantom is rolling in on a skateboard, with the Ring of rage dangling from one of his ear piercings and ice crown floating above his head. He’s drinking an off brand smoothie, wearing a leather jacket that has medieval chainmail on it over his now distressed hazmat suit and his boots steel toed.

“...Sup. Y’all want to do something about this whole situation? I’m an all or nothing kind of guy.” Danny greets them. He means that he’s willing to be diligent in his efforts to disbar the Acts. It gets interpreted as him threatening to end the world, ofc, but that’s an issue he has to deal with later. 

“King Phantom we have been working daily to-” 

“Uh huh. Look, didn’t you guys have like a teenage group? I want to work with them, they’ll probably actually help me get shit done while you fuck around with paper work.” 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

concepts related to different professions

Businessperson

abettor, adjutant, adviser/advisor, aid/aide, announcer, apprentice, archaeologist, assistant, auditor, authority, baker, barber, broker, businessperson, buyer, caretaker, cartoonist, chair, chef, client, colleague, conservator, consumer, correspondent, court, creator, curator, customer, dabbler, desk jockey, developer, drudge, employee, envoy, espionage, explorer, fellow, flier, flyer, fortuneteller, freshman, go-between, gourmet, guard, guru, hacker, hand, hawker, helper, hooker, inferior, informant or informer, inspector, interviewer, investigator, janitor, labor, liaison, messenger, moderator, monitor, navigator, newsman/woman, page, patron, picket, pioneer, poet, practitioner, prodigal, protégé, referee, representative, reviewer, rival, sailor, scout, seaman/woman, seller, shopper, speaker, spokesperson, spy, subordinate, tailor, traveler, virtuoso, wayfarer, writer

Educator

academic, adviser/advisor, alumnus/alumna, coach, conductor, disciplinarian, faculty, freshman, graduate, intellectual, learner, martinet, mastermind, monitor, practitioner, professor, rookie, savant, school, swami, trainer

Entertainer

acrobat, actress, aficionado, ballet dancer, character, comic, creator, director, fan, groupie, hero/heroine, humorist, inventor, luminary, magician, name, participant, personage/personality, player, protagonist, star, troubadour, virtuoso, zany

Financier

accountant, bean counter, broker, investor, spendthrift

Government officer

administrator, ambassador, authoritarian, autocracy, bureaucrat, consul, delegate, despot, diplomat, emir, empress, establishment, exile, fascist, figurehead, front runner, informant/informer, intermediary, leader, liaison, magistrate, master, mogul, mouthpiece, officer, oppressor, pacifist, patrol, personage/personality, police/police officer, prime minister, representative, snitch, spokesperson, tyrant, weasel

Legal practitioner

attorney, beneficiary, counsel, heir, judge, lawyer, officer, proponent, witness

Media person

commentator, journalist, newsman/woman, reporter, writer

Medical practitioner

analyst, druggist, nurse, patient, physician, researcher, therapist

Military person

combatant, conqueror, fighter, gladiator, lookout, militant, patrol, recruit, scout, seaman/woman, truant, warmonger, warrior

Politician

advocate, anarchist, apostle, arbitrator, conservative, dissident, extremist, firebrand, idealist, militant, mouthpiece, nonconformist, patron, picket, proponent, reactionary, sectarian

Religious person

acolyte, angel, atheist, chaplain, conformist, creator, deacon, doubter, dreamer, evangelism, father, genie, inventor, loner, minister, monk, pagan, pastor, priest, saint, skeptic, visionary, witch, wizard

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[petervintonjr]

Today we look at the pivotal role played by Evelyn Thomas Butts: activist, agitator, and (eventually) elected official. Born in 1924 Norfolk, Virginia, Evelyn Thomas was orphaned at a young age and raised mostly by her politically-conscious aunt. Evelyn eventually married a Charles Herbert Butts, who served in WWII but was injured. To offset his disability (no wartime benefits for Black veterans at this point, remember), the couple --and their eventual three daughters-- took in boarders, and Evelyn also worked as a seamstress. Inspired by her aunt's careful teaching about staying closely involved in local politics, Evelyn became a member of the Oakwood (Norfolk) neighborhood civic league and eventually was elevated to its president. She used this platform to speak out against segregated schools, segregated stadium seating at sporting events, and even organized a picketing of a local supermarket that refused to hire Black employees. She also co-founded the Rosemont Middle School during this period, and organized voting drives.

It was in the light of her voting drive efforts, that the largest elephant in the room at the time was clearly the Poll Tax --a significant (and insulting) barrier to voting rights; not just in Virginia, but in most of the South. Poll taxes, while technically having been in existence in varying forms since Colonial days, had in post-Reconstruction times, evolved into blatant discriminatory fees. While on paper these required payments made no mention of race or other category, in practice they were broadly designed to disenfranchise poor and working class voters, but most specifically the Black population. Added administrative "fine print" (such as vaguely-worded requirements to pay the fee on a different, specified date prior to an election and then being required to bring that receipt to the polling place), as well as weasel-worded grandfather clauses and impossibly difficult literacy exams, all conspired to ensure that few Blacks would be able to cast ballots.

In November of 1963, Butts filed suit in the Eastern Judicial District of Virginia in an attempt to have the poll tax declared unconstitutional. This attempt was dismissed, but, undeterred, Butts joined with Annie E. Harper and several other women from Fairfax County, Virginia, to consolidate their cases together, along a broader premise. The 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in Richmond heard arguments in 1964 but ultimately ruled the tax constitutional. Butts and Harper and their allies promptly took their appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court, represented by then-solicitor Thurgood Marshall.

On March 24, 1966, the Supreme Court ruled 6-3 that poll taxes were in fact unconstitutional, violating the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment (see Harper v. Virginia State Board of Elections).

Evelyn's activism didn't stop there; in 1975 she was appointed as the first black woman commissioner to the Norfolk Redevelopment and Housing Authority. She remained an active member of the NAACP well into the 1980's, and also organized Concerned Citizens of Norfolk, a local initiative designed to encourage more African-Americans to run for office. A street in Norfolk was renamed in her honor in 1995, and a historical marker was erected in 2020.

[islndgurl777]

Stone by Stone

Fandom/Pairing: RNM, Michael/Alex

Length: ~1800

Tags: Free Verse, Second person POV, Season 1, Canon compliant

Notes: Thank you @saadiestuff for your episode guide and transcripts, they were invaluable. Title from Would You Come Home. Sorry (not sorry) to @toooceanblue, you made one (1) comment expressing passing interest in my obsession and then I had to write you 2000 words about it.

On AO3 here.

You’re seventeen.

You want to make music

And hang out with your friends

And kiss a boy

(But you can’t because your father might kill you.

You don’t know how he knew you were gay

Before you did

But you’ve always known

One wrong move and he’d kill you for who you are.)

You see the smartest boy in school

Sitting in the back of his truck

Playing a guitar

Playing your guitar

Your heart pounds as you confront him,

There’s just something about him…

You see he’s living in his truck.

“There's this toolshed out behind my house,” you say.

“It's warm and I go there when things get bad.”

You’re relieved when he starts sneaking in

Sleeping in your safe place

It’s cold at night.

He pulls you in and you can’t explain it.

You bring him your guitar,

Just doing a nice thing for a friend.

“When I play, my entropy changes.

Everything goes quiet,” he explains.

You feel exactly the same

When you look into his eyes.

He comes to see you at work.

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

He’s nervous, he fidgets. 

You sigh and lead him back into the museum.

You think you know where this is going

But then he kisses you and…

You’d stay in Roswell, if only he kept kissing you.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Yeah, but not with…”

“A guy?”

You both laugh, giddy. It feels like love.

“Yeah. And not with someone I’ve liked

As much as I like you.”

Your first time together is perfect.

Your father walks in as you’re getting dressed.

Dread fills you.

Screaming.

Choking.

A hammer.

Your love will never play guitar again.

Everything changes and it’s your fault.

(It’s your father’s fault, but

You should have known better.

You should have known you weren’t safe.)

Your love starts getting arrested

And bails on his scholarship.

He’s locked up the day you leave.

/

You go to war for ten years

And lose more than just your leg.

/

You’re back in Roswell

Back under your father’s thumb

But you’re just waiting

Watching

Wishing to find something to use against him

And you come across…your love.

“Your father must be proud,” he says

And you’ve learned not to flinch when you’re hit.

Because your instinct is to hit back

“You are wasting your life,” you say.

And you hit again:

“Does the macho cowboy swagger thing

Ever get old with you?”

And he hits back:

“Did it get old for you?”

(Your heart screams out because

No, it never did.)

Tempers cool, he finds you again.

You tell him you thought he’d be long gone

By the time you returned.

(You don’t tell him it’s what you’d hoped for him.)

“Is that what you want?” he asks.

“We're not kids anymore. What I want doesn't matter.”

Yet you’re drawn together again, like something…

/

You try to ignore him when you see him at your friend’s bar

(“It cannot happen again,” you told him

Even as you tried to trap your brain’s logic behind gritted teeth.

His whole face shut down and you tried not to feel sick.

“What happened? I was pretty wasted,” he lied.)

Still, she reads you better than anyone.

She can’t weasel the story out of you,

She never can, even all these years later,

But she does remind you that

Home doesn’t have to mean

A white picket fence and a family.

Home can be a person.

When you were seventeen,

You thought he could be that person.

Maybe

Maybe he still could.

You let your heart’s words fly freely this time,

And tell him he makes you feel young

When he looks at you like that

Like you felt before war and your father tore you apart.

But that every time he looks away,

It almost kills you

Every time.

“I never look away,” he tells you. “Not really.”

And you’re pulled into him again like something…

/

You panic when his sister almost finds you

Which is stupid, you know,

You’re twenty-eight, you’re an adult;

Who cares if you’re found

In another man’s bed?

You remember the feel of his mangled hand

As it skimmed across your skin last night

You know why you care if you’re found

In this man’s bed,

And you know why it really shouldn’t matter.

That doesn’t stop your panic from hurting him as he leaves.

You fucked up with that, you know it,

So you find him later at the drive-in,

Buy him a drink in an offer of peace.

Your eyes plead with him that you want to make this work.

He takes the drink and sits with you.

You’re on a date with your love in public.

Your father arrives and gets into your head

Just like he always does

And he ruins it.

(But if you’re being honest with yourself,

It’s just like your love said right before he drove away:

You were looking for an excuse, weren’t you?)

/

Now that you’re done,

There’s nothing to hold you back,

No one to worry over or protect.

You’ve waited your life to find leverage over your father

And now you’re free

To do what it takes to end him.

And you do.

You find government conspiracies

And alien artifacts

And illegal operations.

In your father’s conspiracies you find your love

And he tells you your love was using you.

You shake your head in disbelief

Because even after everything

You feel in your heart it’s not true.

“These aliens are monsters,” says your father

And speaks about “incident after incident of

unprovoked violence.”

And that’s when you see red,

Remembering a hammer, wielded by your father,

And your love’s maimed hand.

“I’m going to destroy the thing you love most,” you tell your father,

Rage cooled to ice,

Because he did the same to you.

/

The next time you see your love

You don’t see an alien

You see a world of hurt

Only some of which

Was caused by you.

“Is this really how it ends?” he asks

And his hurt is a barbed wire whip

As he reduces ten years to just sex.

Raw and bleeding

Your reaction is still

To return the pain.

“Sometimes

the world ends with a whimper.”

If you’d said anything else

Maybe things would have turned out different.

Maybe he wouldn’t have--

By the time you see him again

He’s slept with your best friend.

You start to walk away,

Every cell in your body urging you to run

Protect yourself.

But.

“I'm tired of walking away.

I'm tired of not saying

What I want to say.”

The words won’t

Can’t

Be held back any longer.

“I loved you.

And I think that you loved me.

For a long time.”

You barely wait for his quiet agreement 

Before the confusion you’ve wrestled with

For months

For years

Bursts forth.

“But we didn't even know each other that well,

Did we?

We just connected like something…”

“Cosmic,”

He finishes your thought and

Oh.

Oh.

You look into his eyes and

You finally see it too.

“I want to talk,” you tell him.

“I want to start over

I want to be your friend.

I want to know who you are,”

I want everything,

You manage to bite back

Though your heart is screaming it.

You see clarity in his eyes

Understanding

But you worry he still doesn’t get it 

So when he asks,

“Do you want to know who I am, 

Or do you want to know what I am?”

Your only answer is,

“Yes.”

/

He’s telling you things

About his childhood

About his family

You’re having the most

Honest conversation you’ve ever had

It both fills your heart

(“Why are you showing me this?”

“If anyone’s gonna destroy me,

Might as well be you.”)

And breaks it.

(“If I can find the rest,

I can attach it to a vehicle.”

“You’re trying to leave.

The planet.”)

He’s trying to leave.

You.

And that’s it,

You need a moment away

You need the time to breathe

Breathe through the thought

That cosmic or not,

You may not ever be meant 

To keep things

From another world.

So you leave him.

Again.

You forget for a minute 

Who he spent last night with

And you go to the bar

Because who else do you run to

When you’re hurt

But your best friend?

You try not to let her know

Who’s the source of your trouble

But she reads your heart

Better than anyone

And you feel your friendship

Shift.

You can’t blame her

She didn’t know.

(You didn’t want her to know.)

And you can’t blame him

For loving her.

(She’s special to you too.)

/

You don’t think about it.

There are other worries.

You focus on your family

Their history fighting his

You learn of a site

Outside of town.

Your bring your love

To learn what he can

And standing outside

He feels their pain.

He hears their screams.

You feel a sense of dread.

Your brother’s there

Always obeys your father’s commands.

Hurting innocents

Creating weapons

You’re here to make it stop

End a legacy of pain.

Your love finds his people

Locked in cages 

Abused for years.

He finds one he knows

Sees her face

Remembers her smile.

He does the only thing he can

Lights flash.

Alarms blare.

Building implosion impending.

“Nothing gets out alive!” you scream

Minutes left to destruction.

“They’re my family!” he replies

He won’t leave them again.

Your chest fills with panic

Your eyes with tears

You don’t know what this will mean

But you can’t hold back,

“And you’re mine!”

He shakes his head

A vicious snarl on his face

When he tells you to leave

Says he doesn’t love you.

You call him a liar

And plant your feet.

You can’t leave him again

You won’t.

He turns to the woman

Confined in a cage of glass.

They touch hands through the wall

A message passed

Mother to son.

You wish there were time,

But sirens cut through

Their precious moments.

He turns back and tells you

She wants him to go.

You both look at her

One more time

Before you push him toward the door.

You’re grateful to her

For helping you save his life

Moments before she loses hers.

/

You want to talk to him

About everything 

Anything

Apologize and beg forgiveness

For your family’s part

In every pain

That’s been brought upon him.

You wait for him to come home

Hoping for the time to speak.

But he’s manic, covered in blood,

Something’s happening that he won’t explain,

But he promises you’ll talk tomorrow,

So for tomorrow

You can wait.

[stagbeetleboy]

Gonna talk about the nature of the beast 1995 bc I keep turning it over in my head.

It appears to be a straightforward depraved bisexual trope. Adrian is presented as the devil there to tempt the straight laced closeted homosexual into sin.

Adrian is a junkie that’s been in and out of prison, he speaks of repression, and makes constant attempts to tempt or inflame Jack, he forces his way Jacks company, and you’re supposed to believe he is the hatchet man (a serial killer terrorizing the area).

Jack is the repressed family man, he constantly takes the moral high ground, he works to support his family, and you’re supposed to believe his only crime is that he’s stollen a million dollars. The idea that Jack’s job selling paper products can’t support a family is presented to you as a possible motivation, a noble motivation. He’s the perfectly ordinary and acceptable American being tempted by the depraved and murderous bisexual. The climax literally him catching Adrain having a sexual encounter with a man and a woman and being extremely effected by that.

BUT THE DEPRAVED BISEXUAL TROPE IS A TRICK. JACK IS THE KILLER. Adrian isn’t evil he just thinks he is and wants companionship from someone he perceives to be like him. Yes Adrian is trying to tempt him out of his repressed state, but the twist is the repression itself is why Jack is so dangerous.

Jack could have killed Adrian the entire time, but he can’t accept his attraction and keeps running from him. He kills everyone he encounters but tries over and over to escape Adrian rather than just eliminating him. Adrian eventually manages to weasel his way into into a partnership with him,

but of course he is unable to fully accept his wants and rejects companionship from Adrian. Jack never overcomes his repression. In the end returns to his wife and white picket fence. He returns to normalcy and the false family, and the murders continue.

Also the worst part is Adrian is fully able to accept Jack is a murderer but Jack can’t accept Adrian or the fact that he is an addict.

[weaselnerd]

Final day: Christmas Day!!

Presents under the tree kipper is more worried knowing that Santa is now probably gonna get him back for trapping him.

Can’t believe believe it’s over..it was so fun doing this @basiabd

Day 31: the final day. Done

[basiabd]

Day 4! Snow angel! (Im now aware i spelt it wrong on the actual list)

Only picket cause he’s my sweet angel boy.

[trashogram]

My thoughts on how Kipper and Picket feel about their family!

Reader- They love their mama, kipper just likes her more and prefers her over the others.

Smartass- Kipper doesnt like him and constantly mocks his mispronunciations. Picket likes smarty but is kinda worried that smarty doesnt like him that much.

Greasy- Kipper also hates greasy and takes every chance to bite him. Picket doesnt care much for greasy (especially after the last time they spoke) but still kinda likes him

Wheezy- Kipper kinda likes wheezy more than greasy or smarty since he can nab cigarettes off of him. Picket likes wheezy and likes to listen to him talk, despite the constant smell of smoke.

Psycho-Kipper and Picket both are kinda scared of psycho. But, kipper wants to be scarier and picket wants to get closer to him.

Stupid- Kipper is neutral with him. Picket likes him alot and enjoys spending time with him

Pepper- Kipper is 100% the protective and "strong" brother, will get into fights just for her. Picket is the more sensitive one, mainly catering to her shyness in most situations.

Picket is such a sweetie oh my goodness 🥹 and Kipper might be pint size but he fits right in with this boogle. Lol I can imagine him mimicking Smartass behind his back every time the leader tries to give his men orders 😂

And oh, they’re adorable with Pepper <333 probably stealing jam for her all the time

[auncerra]

Slippery fucking weasel, fits the goddamn bill doesn’t it. What looks cute and coy and fuckably endearing but really will just fuck you over and litter you in crumbs. A slippery miserable selfish bigoted fucking picket fence slimy invalid. Paints whatever narrative to cover some tracks. Paints it for attention and praise. WAKE THE FUCK UP FRIENDS AND FAMILY. WAKE THE FUCK UP AND SEE WHAT THEY PUT ME THROUGH. SEE WHAT I LOST TO THAT SON OF A BITCH. THAT they

Wanted me to.

The joke is on each and all of you. The mark of death like voltage in the blackest depth of the sea. Never underestimate what you are fucking with. The heart of WHAT you are toying with, playing, cheating, manipulating, destructing. FEEL IT FUCKER. FEEL IT ALL.

[ya9amicide]

The End of the World In a Woman’s Hands [Newsies]

chapter ten

♡ newsies masterlist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ♡

summary: Being a girl in the everyday world is difficult. Being the leader of the Manhattan Newsies and a girl? Even more so. Especially when nobody knows you're a girl and the truth is the closest kept secret you have ever had. For Jack Kelly, keeping the truth of her gender a secret is one she's found easy after doing so for many years. Unfortunately, having close encounters with the iron fist, Pulitzer, and a new Newsie who seems determined to get to know her, that secret might just become the opposite.

pairing: fem!jack kelly x david “davey” jacobs

warnings: none

In Newsies Square the next morning, the Newsies chant at the crowd in the courtyard. “Stop The World–don't scab, stop The World–don't scab!”

David moves among them, looking like a leader now. “Nobody sells a pape today. We're hurtin' them and they know it! Remember: no soakin', no hittin'.”

The gates open and the wagons start out, followed by nervous scabs flanked by cops and goons. The chant builds as the scabs parade by when Spot speaks up. “Look…I'm seein' t'ings…tell me I'm seeing t'ings!”

David and the others look in disbelief. Walking with the scabs is Jack, wearing a sophisticated dress, flanked by Weasel and other goons. As Jack moves past, staring straight ahead, the chant dies.

“What's she doin' with the scabs?” Race cries.

“It ain't happenin'...It can't be happenin'...,” Kid Blink murmurs.

Mush steps forward, pleading with Jack. “Hey, Jack, it's me, Mush, lookit me–look, willya?”

“Where'd she get them clothes?” Boots asks.

Weasel steps up next to Jack, smirking. “Mr. Pulitzer picked 'em out hisself. A special gift to a special new employee. Only not so new, huh, cowboy? Oh, I’m sorry. Cowgirl.”

“She sold us out! Ya dirty scab,” Spot yells. “I'll murder ya!” Spot tries to bust through the goons but they hurl him back.

David, confused and angry, watches Jack. Weasel catches him looking. “You wanna come say somethin’ wise guy? C’mon. Come talk to Jacqueline.”

David steps closer to her, watching her imploringly. “You could’ve escaped. I know you could’ve, so why didn’t you? Talk to me, you liar! What else did he give you to sell us out–money? What else? Look at me!” Jack keeps looking straight ahead. “You lie about everything–headlines, your family, you being a boy…Because nobody counts but you–nobody or nothing! Look at me.”

David tries to grab her but Weasel stops him. “I'm gonna be lookin' for you, wiseguy.” He grins at him. “Or maybe you'd like a nice new suit of your own.”

David twists away, trying to rally the Newsies. “Keep after them, we don't need her!” He tries to keep the chant going but some chant halfheartedly, confused, demoralized. A few toss down their picket signs in disgust. David moves among them, desperately trying to keep the chant going.

The scabs move on, passing Les, who gives Jack a stricken look as he moves away. “She's just foolin' 'em…so she can spy on them or something.” He seems to reassure himself. “That's it. She's spyin' on 'em. She's gotta be.”

That afternoon, the Newsies look sullenly at the door where Kloppman is ushering in two policemen. “She will only be a minute. Please, no trouble.”

A policeman stands aside and Jack enters, in her new, fancy dress. The place descends into utter silence. The police escort her the length of the dorm and Jack goes straight to her hiding place and removes a box. She looks inside and is startled to see a dead rat is inside the box, covered with tiny pieces of the photograph of her family. She also finds all of her money is gone. She tosses the box aside, eyes hardening.

The police escort him back into the main room where a few Newsies snicker as she moves toward her bed. Racetrack stands holding a bundle of Jack's belongings. He shoves it into Jack's chest and does his Delancey routine. “Dear me, what is dat unpleasant aroma?” Jack clenches her fists. “Go on, take a shot. I bust your scab face, ya yellow-livered, rotten stinkin' piecea garbage!”

Jack just looks at him and un-clenches her fists. She moves for the door, as one by one the Newsies turn their backs on her.

In the bottom of the press building, the large presses pound rhythmically. A candle illuminates Weasel's gloating face as he leads Jack down a flight of rickety stairs. “Mr. Pulitzer says nothin' but the best for you, Cowgirl. He takes care of his loyal employees, and he's put me personally in charge of seein' that you stay a loyal employee.”

He opens a door and they enter an old press room. Weasel lights a lantern and Jack sees a wooden bed, an old printing press, and extra junk, all covered with dust.

“You try any tricks, and I go straight to Mr. Pulitzer.” He grins at her menacingly. “Will you be requirin' anything else?” She doesn’t reply. “Then I bid you goodnight.”

He leaves the room and the great presses thunder heavily somewhere in the building above, like a judgment. Jack looks at the bleak room, buried in dust and noise.

The next morning,  Jack steps up for her papers alongside the other Scabs. Weasel shows his usual charm. “Sleep well, Cowgirl?” He asks.

Jack ignores him and moves off with her papers. The Delanceys pass by, Morris grinning at her, bouncing a club in his hand, leering at her. “C’mon, Cowgirl. Come wit’ us. We’ll treat ya well.”

“Yeah, come wit' us, Cowgirl,” Oscar chimes in. “We're gonna fix your pal Davey today–fix 'im so's he can't walk no more.”

Jack tenses up, ready to soak him when Weasel catches her eye. “Lift one finger…and you're right back in the Refuge.” Jack stops, torn. She nods meekly and moves off. Weasel looks after her, satisfied.

Down the road, an hour or so later, Jack hears a commotion in a nearby alleyway. She looks over to see the Delancey’s ganging up on David and Les. Oscar has his arms on David when suddenly, from behind, two hands grab the rim of his derby and jerk it down to the bridge of his nose. Blinded, he releases David and staggers around, trying to pry the hat off his eyes. Les looks up to see Jack behind them.

Jack flashes him a grin. Just as Oscar frees himself from the derby, David leaps on him like        a fury. Punches fly and the Delanceys beat a quick retreat down the sidewalk, yelling back at her. 

“Ya better run, Cowgirl!” Morris yells. “We're tellin' Weasel! You'll be back in the Refuge by supper time!”

“Yeah, run, ya lousy coward, run!” Oscar chimes in.

But they're the ones running. David, catching his breath, looks at Jack, beginning to understand. “Couldn't stay away, huh.”

“Guess I can't be somethin' I ain't.”

“A scab?”

“...Among other things.” Jack shrugs and smiles at him but David looks at her worriedly.

On David’s fire escape, he watches her deep in thought. “Without you, the strike's falling apart.”

“I got no choice,” she tells him like it’s her only option. “I stay here, they lock me up 'til I'm twenty-one.”

Les clambers out with a pair of Mayer's cast-off high-button shoes. “Jack, for the trip. A pair of cowboy boots! Sorta. They’re a bit bit but they’ll do the job.” Mayer and Esther come to the window with a bundle of clothes and some food.

“Who knows what's to eat where you're going?” Esther tells her, handing her the food.

Mayer hands her a pile of clothes. “A few things of mine and David's. Figured you didn’t like dresses too much,” he teases and Jack tries to hide her blush at being given some of David’s clothes. “Wish we had money to give you.”

She looks at them, emotion overflowing in her eyes. “Who needs it? I go down to the train yards, hop me a freight, go in the best style–free.”

Mayer lays a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I don't know what's waiting for you in Santa Fe, but you'll always have family here.” They both embrace her and move back inside, taking Les with them. There’s a brief awkward silence before Jack picks up the bundle to go.

“You're not going to run away,” David says, with conviction in his voice. “They'll just come after you. You have to fight them.”

“They got it all wrapped up, Davey and nothin' I can do is gonna make one bit of difference.”

“You're wrong. You touched people you don't even know about…Me, for example.” Jack scoffs at him, not believing his words. “At the hearing, they said you were arrested for stealing food and clothing. This is why, isn’t it? You stole to feed those boys…I don’t understand. If you were willing to go to jail for those boys, how could you turn your back on them now?”

Jack, having enough, whips her head up to glare at him. “You don’t understand, Davey. It’s not enough. I could steal everyday and still not have enough to keep all them boys healthy.”

“But they’re alive. And they look to you, Jack.”

“They threatened me, Davey,” her voice cracks.

“What?”

“They threatened to keep Crutchie locked up and to put the other boys in there too. They told me they was gonna hurt you, Dave. Take you an’ Les away from your parents…I couldn’t let them do that. I couldn’t.”

“Oh, Jack,” David sighs, taking a step towards her so that they’re practically chest to chest. He wipes a tear from her cheek and gently cups her face in his hands. “When are you going to learn that you’re not alone?”

She looks at him with wide, misty eyes, hands grabbing hold of his wrists. David eventually gives in to his desires and smashes his lips to hers. The kiss is all encompassing. It sucks all the breath out of her lungs but she only pulls him closer, begging him to take all of her oxygen if he wants it. She’d give him anything.

They break apart, both panting and resting their foreheads together. “We know the risks,” David says. “We’re with you. I’m with you.”

[weaselnerd]

I got attacked therefore everyone will too.

@shy-nightmare, you are one of the sweetest people I know and you write amazing stories with such lovable oc’s. I get happy seeing you post and I was honored to see my name here. You are truly an amazing person and thank you for being my mutual.

@basiabd, you draw so amazing and I was lucky to have my oc pepper alongside picket and kipper. Your art is incredible. I love the ideas you have and the Pokemon au you had. I can’t wait to continue being in the Toon patrol x reader with you to know that you will be alongside me.

@trashogram, your stories always blow me away. Thank you for accepting pepper into your stories with open arms. I am always grateful that I was allowed to be a part of the Toon patrol x Reader stories knowing pepper will sometimes show up. Thank you for allowing me this honor

@marinerainbow, you were the first I was brave enough to talk to when I first joined tumbler. You loved my oc’s and I loved yours too! I remember that day when we asked questions about each other’s oc’s and lore. I will forever be grateful for meeting you.

@amberfox232, Although we don’t speak much I am grateful to know you. The few times you’ve commented I’ve loved every second of it. Thank you for supporting me.

@lastofautumn, You are an amazing and sweet person. I remember that day you first drew Shiny and your art is amazing.

@xxinkys-ocsxx, thank you for being my mutual. You are a sweet and very cool person. Your art is amazing and I love your oc’s and how you draw! I am always happy to see your page. Please continue to be amazing.

@taylorsamonstereffer, Thank you for being a weasel fan like me! Also thank you for being so relatable when we first chatted! I can’t wait to see how you do in the weasel fanbase!

@toonpatrol-sleazie, Your art always blows me away! I love seeing your art everyday! I can’t wait for your next post. Your amazing.

@los-angeles-toon-patrol, All you 5 are very cool! I’ve been big fans since I joined tumblr and I am very honored to be able to be mutuals with you. please continue to be awesome!

Thank you everyone who is my mutual! I appreciate you all so much!

Give someone a compliment here! ^^ Because why not? I'll start.

@marinerainbow your writing always comforts me ^^

@obscureother you are always so clever and funny, talking to you always bring a genyine smile to my face no matter what ♡

@shy-nightmare I have never talked to someone so sweet and kind before!!

Hope you're all having, had, or are about to have an awesome day 💚💚💚

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Rowling in the Morning

Megan Phelps-Roper: hey you’re listening to the witch trials of jk rowling, W KZFM in the morning with Megan Phelps-Roper and the weasel [air horn sound effect] Phelps-Roper: we are here with the main boss lady herself, Jk R-r-r-rowling! Rowling: good to be here Phelps-Roper: now its time for our 10 am challenge [‘Oh Yeah’ plays] Phelps-Roper: JK Rowling, will you Phelps-Roper: live Phelps-Roper: on air Phelps-Roper: eat a bug? Rowling: Rowling: wave it around ssso it looks like it’s alive

Rowling: hey weren’t you in the westboro Baptist church Phelps-Roper: oh yeah haha everyone remembers that Phelps-Roper: yeah, picketing funerals, yelling slurs at grieving parents Phelps-Roper: those were good times Phelps-Roper: but I’m really concentrating more on self-care these days

Phelps-Roper: yeah I know everyone likes to worry about all those gays and jews I used to harass Phelps-Roper: but their pain was necessary for my journey of discovery Phelps-Roper: the important thing Phelps-Roper: is that I am SUCH a good person now Rowling: yessss of courssse

Rowling: look a lot of people have been ssssaying to cancel harry potter Rowling: and I jussst think that we should consssider the other perspective Rowling: what about Rowling: inssstead of cancelling harry potter Rowling: you just continued to give large amounts of money to me, its creator? Phelps-Roper: wow, never thought of it that way before! Rowling: I ssssay thisss as a disinterested third party, of course

Rowling: people keep asking Rowling: ‘jk rowling, why don’t you condemn thesssse nazisss who keep showing up at your ralliesss’ Rowling: I’m jussst like wow Rowling: I guess I’m just not close-minded like some people Phelps-Roper: wow wow good point

Rowling: look, it’s not for me to judge other people Rowling: that’sss for a special wizengamot-appointed tribunal with special genital measuring calipers Rowling: we’re going to have the Kriegsloks leave from platform 5 ¾ Rowling: honestly I think you’re going to find this whole genocide we’re planning just really charming

Phelps-Roper: how do you respond to allegations that you’re allied with nazis? Rowling: [chuckling] oh megan I’d be lying if I said we weren’t allied with nazis! Phelps-Roper: Phelps-Roper: well, touche

[mourntheantagonist]

What about Billy getting pushed up against a wall in a GOOD way? (By Steve, as a clarification. Kissing desperately and then more, as further clarification.)

I’m always of the mindset that, yeah, while billy might be the one to first put on the moves, flirt, get the ball rolling in the right direction…steve is the one to make the actual first move past innocent flirting.

and what better way to do that than to corner billy at a party when the both of them are already tipsy, guards down, liquid courage coursing through their veins, music banging and drunk teenagers so far gone that even if they had seen the two of them enter that bedroom together, nobody would think anything of it or even remember it by morning.

and this has been exactly what billy’s been hoping for. every little teasing remark and body checking on the court and tap on the shoulder has all been leading right up to this moment, steve all riled up with his forearm brought up horizontally against billy’s collarbones, pinning him into place, and god billy can only stand there and lick away the saliva dripping onto his lips because steve harrington is that juicy piece of steak he’s been starving for.

the tension is vague at first, all steve’s done is pin him down, and really, if billy hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the pressure against his hip, he would have figured it could go either way—fight or fuck.

billy gives him the push, because really, that’s what he’s been doing this whole time, guiding steve around on this invisible leash, pulling him in the right direction. billy bucks his hips forward and grins wide, like a crazed animal. “what you waiting for, harrington?”

and it’s vague. it’s an out that billy’s giving him, letting him take if he wants it, bracing himself for the potential punch in the face because this is hawkins indiana and it would hardly be billy’s first run in with a guy with that much internalized baggage.

but steve doesn’t take the out. he leans his weight in more, almost enough to break bone and definitely enough to make it harder for billy to breathe—but that could have more to do with the bone crushing kiss steve planted on him, teeth smacking against each other, lip-splitting force, little hints of blood on each other’s tongues that they weren’t quite sure who the owner was.

and billy’s on cloud nine because this. this is what he wanted. and it just doesn’t quite feel real as it’s happening and maybe that’s partly due to him being a little drunk and his head feeling like it’s got its own little fairy flying around inside of it, flying up and lifting him off of the ground. but maybe it has to do with it being steve. steve who he thought was a lost cause the second he saw him with nancy. he was the typical small town boy after all, looking for his white picket fence and billy didn’t honestly see himself ever finding a way to weasel himself in between that.

but he had to try. and it wasn’t like he didn’t have fun pressing steve’s buttons.

but there he was, pressing him up against the wall, so forceful and so strong like he was afraid he’d run away, like he couldn’t let him get away, not yet. steve was so desperate for it, so frantic and messy and forceful and billy would have laughed and joked if it had been anyone else, but god. billy was just as desperate. just as sloppy. just as hopeless.

the music was loud. the room was empty save for their own two pathetic souls. and there was a lock on the door.

they could be hopeless together for a few more minutes.