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magic-and-moonlit-wings · 3 years

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Chapter 57: Gatto’s Keep

Becoming The Mask

Trollish and -text messages-

I hope we all enjoy the movie when it comes out this Wednesday! Remember, today’s the last day to start binge-watching and still have enough time to watch every episode of all three shows before the movie airs!

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Four humans, one Changeling, and two unaltered trolls were scatted around an underground library, researching notable locations around the world.

"Whoa, listen to this," said Jim. "Surrounding the Hero's Forge of Heartstone Trollmarket is a chasm known as The Deep, which was enchanted through unknown means by the Trollhunter Kanjigar the Courageous."

They were hoping to find notable mountains, in particular, but 'caverns deep' had also been mentioned in the riddle, and hey, maybe Strickler had been wrong about where the Eye was before the Changelings got it.

"Anyone cast into The Deep will suffer death at the hands of their greatest fear. It has since been used as a means of execution for particularly heinous criminals. No troll is known to have entered The Deep and lived."

Jim frowned and traced over that last sentence with his fingertip.

"How does anybody know it works if no one has ever come back?" he said. "Maybe they just die on impact after getting dropped off a cliff. Or maybe there's, like, a little society down there now and they're just choosing not to leave."

"I saw a cartoon like that once," said Toby.

"Also," Jim continued, "I understand why, if you think somebody deserves to be tortured to death, you would use magical means to get them to come up with a customized torture for themselves to maximize their suffering; but why would you kill someone, who you definitely want executed, in a way that makes it impossible to check and confirm they're dead?"

"Isn't that how oubliettes work?" said Mary.

"Good point."

"You understand torturing people to death?" said Darci.

"I understand trying to do a thing a thoroughly as it can possibly be done."

"Maybe Kanjigar pretended to enchant the place so he could have a spot no one would bother him if he wanted to get away from his job for a while," said Toby.

"Surrounded by the bodies of executed criminals?" said Darci.

"Depending on how hard they landed, they might already be gravel," said Jim. "It's a little unsettling when you know that used to be a troll, but you get used to it. Besides, Kanjigar was only Trollhunter for … what, just under a hundred and seventy years? How many 'particularly heinous criminals' could there have been down here in that time?" He turned to Blinky. "No, really, I'm asking."

"Offhand I can only think of three cases, all involving treason. Perhaps Kanjigar can explain the enchantment next time you visit the Void. Ah!"

Blinky turned his book so everyone else could see the illustrated mountain.

"Gatto's Keep! Deep in the realm of the Volcanic Trolls, in what you humans call 'Argentina', under the volcano Ojos del Salado."

"The eye of the salty?" said Claire.

"Believed to be named for the many salt deposits found on its glaciers, forming eye-like lagoons of meltwater," said Blinky, brushing the interruption off.

"Salt gets expelled through volcanic ash," said Toby. "Or chlorine gas that fuses to nitrogen later. Underwater volcanic activity is part of why the ocean is salty."

"Fortunately, this particular site is not underwater," said Blinky. "Gatto's Keep, a vault of treasures untold – treasures deemed too powerful for the underworld to possess, and kept locked up by Gatto himself."

"Have you ever met this Gatto?" asked Jim.

"Uh … no. Truth be told, I've done everything in my power to avoid him. Very few ever return from his keep."

"I see." Jim frowned down at the book in his lap. "Then maybe you guys shouldn't come."

"What?"

"Are you kidding?"

"The last time we went on a Triumbric Stone quest, a supposedly mostly safe quest, we ended up in the middle of a violent revolution!" Jim reminded them. "I'm not leading a bunch of kids somewhere I know in advance is going to be dangerous!"

"He makes a fair point," conceded Blinky.

"But you can't just go on your own!" Toby protested.

"Of course I won't. Blinky's got to drive the Gyre, and I'll bring Draal for muscle, and –" Jim cut himself off, looking quickly around the room. "Maybe someone else, but I'll have to ask. And if she can, it'll have to work around her schedule."

"You're bringing your mom?" Darci asked.

"No!" Jim recoiled from the idea. "I – Look, there's a Changeling I know who might be able and willing to help, especially for a chance at a legendary vault of forbidden treasure, but I have to ask."

Toby got out his phone and texted Jim rather than asking out loud.

-It's the museum lady, isn't it?-

Jim just glared at him. Both boys deleted the message.

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"Have you ever heard of Gatto's Keep?"

Nomura raised her eyebrow at the Trollhunter.

"Not much. It was one of the places we suspected a piece of the Bridge might be hidden, but considering it had a reputation of no one ever coming back from it, we weren't actually sure if it was real."

It was just as likely to have been an old story that got passed down until it became a figure of speech. The Janus Order’s references to it were all from before Nomura was even stationed on the surface – she'd happened upon them while on archive duty decades ago.

"Blinky says it's real." Jim shrugged. "Or at least Gatto is real, and lives in Argentina. We're planning to go see him about an artifact he might have."

"You're not looking for the Triumphant Stones, are you?" she asked. "Draal's told me that story." Years ago, back when he'd first tried to convince her to change sides. It was the closest he'd ever been to philosophical. "Building a weapon is one thing, but chasing prophecies is another."

Jim shrugged again. "If I'm going to do this, I might as well take every advantage I can. The Triumbric Stones might not be the key their reputation says, but they'll still help."

"Assuming the stones aren't just a trap that will put the Amulet under Gunmar's control."

He snorted. "Oh, come on. If they worked that way, Bular would've been the one to bring them up."

"Not if the conspiracy went deep enough." She snorted as well. "Sure, I'll help loot the place."

"If diplomacy fails," said Jim insistently. "I want to at least try cutting a deal first. When do you have time?"

"I don't work Wednesday or Thursday."

"Great. I'll text. Oh, also," he suddenly looked much more shy, "this comes with a risk of a human or several finding out about you. Still in?"

Nomura leveled a glare at Jim, letting him squirm while she thought it over. (He didn't squirm at all, the shameless wretch. Just looked at her with that stupid timid hopeful expression.)

"For a chance at a legendary treasure trove like that, I might transform in public."

Human public, where they could make up some excuse about hidden cameras and movie costumes and practical special effects, not Trollmarket public, but most Changelings wouldn't need to clarify that.

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Nomura had a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and was wearing a wide-brimmed brown fedora.

"Isn't that Stricklander's hat?"

"It's traditional garb for archeological expeditions."

"You stole it, didn't you?" His inflection made it clear this was not really a question.

"I'm going to send him a selfie and see how long it takes him to realize it's his." Nomura held her phone out and snapped a picture.

"Hi, museum lady!" Toby greeted. They were meeting in the canal. "I brought tacos!"

"… Why are we bringing him?"

Jim sighed. He hadn't wanted to, but Toby made a good argument.

"Diversity of perspective. A human might notice something a troll or Changeling would miss, just like vice versa. We don't know how organized this Gatto guy's collection is. We might have to go looking for the Birthstone."

Thankfully Claire had a 'family thing', Darci had an 'extracurricular commitment', and Mary had a date, all on Wednesday, and he had been able to get that information without revealing Thursday was also an option.

Inside, Nomura shifted to her troll form, keeping the hat showing. Toby gasped.

"You're so tall …"

"Toby, Nomura," introduced Jim. They started climbing down the glowing staircase. "Officially, she's one of Draal's old sparring buddies who's agreed to come on this mission for extra muscle."

So please do not address her as 'museum lady' where anyone can hear you.

"Isn't Draal coming too?" asked Toby.

"Which is how she got invited."

"I don't get it."

"She's going to meet Draal while you and I go to the library, and then we're all meeting up at the Gyre station."

"Why didn't she just –" Toby stopped and readdressed the question to Nomura. "Why didn't you just meet up with Draal at Jim's place?"

"I'm avoiding the chance Barbara will try asking me for life advice again," said Nomura lightly.

Jim's eyebrows went up. He hadn't questioned her suggestion to meet in the canal, but now he really wanted the story there …

"When did that happen?" asked Toby.

"We're in the same krav maga class."

Which did not completely answer the question, but Toby seemed to think it did, and Jim didn't want to push when Nomura was arguably doing him a favour.

On the one hand, he could claim to be doing her a favour, taking her along on a treasure hunt where she could sneak out an artifact or two for herself, but on the other hand, she was loaning her experience in identifying and handling ancient artifacts and dealing with stuffy curators. The situation was roughly neutral and Jim didn't want to tip it.

The walk to the library, and to the Gyre station after that, were peaceful. AAARRRGGHH accompanied them as far as the station entrance.

"Good luck," he said, tapping his horns against Blinky's, rubbing the top of Jim's helmeted head like he was fluffing his hair, and giving Toby a very gentle pat on the back.

"I will look after them," Draal promised, arriving with Nomura. "We will all return from Gatto's Keep."

"Well, now that you've said that," Nomura teased.

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Jim's first impression was that Ojos del Salado looked like a construction project was underway. Or, maybe a mining operation? The mountain was hollowed out, with another mountain inside, and the inner mountain was covered with ladders and scaffolding.

"Ugh, it's so hot," Toby complained. "I know it's a volcano, but still." He pulled at his sweater vest but didn't take it off.

The local trolls wore what looked like welding masks over their faces, and had faintly glowing orange lines carved into their skin. Two appeared to be standing guard near the Gyre station – but facing in, towards the complex, rather than outwards to new arrivals.

Very few ever return, rang loudly through Jim's mind.

"Excuse me," said Blinky to one of the sentries. "We would most graciously request an audience with Gatto."

The troll wordlessly pointed them to the top.

"Ah … thank you, kind friend."

Toby was groaning after the first few ladders. By the time they neared the top, he had stopped, probably to conserve energy – but he managed another when they realized the platform was empty.

"Where is he? They pointed 'up' but there's no more 'up' to go … Did he leave while we were climbing up here?"

Jim eyed the stone the scaffold was built by. It might be climbable. There was a long but narrow ledge about level with the platform, and a tall, V-shaped protrusion probably taller than AAARRRGGHH, and – the ledge split apart. It glowed inside.

"Who has awakened Gatto?"

The mountain-in-a-mountain opened two glowing yellow eyes. A chuckle made the platform shake.

"A human Trollhunter?" the mountain-in-a-mountain said. "How interesting. How … unique. To what do I owe this … pleasure?"

Jim cleared his throat and leaned back a little so he could look Gatto in the eye. "We've come to ask –"

One of the masked trolls arrived, pushing a wooden cart of rocks. The delivery-troll darted away just in time to avoid a massive tongue, and ran back off the platform into the lower scaffolding. Jim reflexively summoned his knives. It was difficult to will them away.

"You must excuse me," said Gatto. "I never talk business without something to eat. Go on."

"We've come for the Birthstone."

"Birthstone of Gunmar?" The mountain troll chuckled again. "Very powerful. Tell me … why should I give it to you?"

"Of course we don't expect you to just give it to us."

Jim ignored Draal's quiet, "We don't?" He took off his backpack, handed it to Blinky, and unzipped the top.

"We've come prepared to trade."

"We did?"

The first thing Jim got out was black and rectangular. Its cord was plugged into a crystal array which some trolls used to substitute for electrical outlets, to power the neon signs and Christmas lights and televisions down in Trollmarket. Blinky had one for his phone charger.

"This is an uncommon human device. You activate and deactivate it with this button here." Jim pushed the button twice, demonstrating. "By turning these knobs, it's possible to generate a custom frequency of audible static."

He put the white noise generator back in his bag, and got out a lumpy object wrapped in a towel. He draped the cloth over his shoulder and held the item where Gatto could see it.

"This is the head of Bular, son of Gunmar, taken as proof that he was slain. Proof that Gunmar's line is not unkillable."

Gatto looked intrigued. Jim rewrapped the head in the towel and switched it for a book. Blinky grimaced during the exchange.

"And this is a document stolen from a Janus Order base; an unfinished medical study of foods that provide nutrition to both humans and trolls."

He flipped through a few pages so the text was visible, proof he wasn't scamming Gatto with a blank notebook, and put it away.

"Seller's choice. Rare artifacts that carry entertainment, power, and knowledge. Which of those would you accept as payment for the Birthstone?"

"Hmm …" The mountain troll pondered the selection. "I think I will have all three. Along with the answer to a little riddle. Answer it correctly – the Birthstone is yours. Answer it incorrectly – I eat you all."

"WHAT?" Toby yelped. "Did I understand that right? Did he say 'eat'? He said 'eat'!"

"Breathe, Tobes." The Sword of Daylight was in Jim's hand. His first instinct was to pick Toby up and bolt for the Gyre. He should be strong enough for that if he switched to troll form, right?

But they needed the Birthstone …

"Master Jim, we must not enter into this binding agreement," Blinky hissed in English. "I'm beginning to catch on why so few trolls ever leave this domicile."

"We'll play!"

"Nomura?!"

"It's simple – either we figure out the riddle and he gives us the stone, or we refuse to answer, which is not technically answering incorrectly, and fight our way out."

"… When you're right, you're right," Jim agreed.

"You think you are clever," said Gatto. "So answer me this. What begins and has no end, and ends all that which begins?"

Blinky blinked, in full unison for once, all six eyes together. "… I have absolutely no idea. Those words mean nothing! Indecipherable!"

"Begins and has no end," Jim repeated to himself quietly, "and ends all that begins."

"I … don't think I can help," said Draal reluctantly. "Rocks for brains, remember?"

"Well, that attitude's not helping, for sure. Begins with no end, ends what begins …"

"School bus?" Toby guessed, switching back to English. "Uh, meatloaf? Hair?"

"Let's think logically," said Nomura, also in English. "In these situations, the answer is almost always one of four things: death, nothing, eternity, or a riddle itself." She counted them off on her fingers. "The answer to a riddle is its end. Eternity by definition doesn't have a beginning or an end. So it's either death or nothing."

"Ten more seconds," said Gatto ominously.

"You didn't tell us we were on the clock!" Blinky protested.

"What begins and has no end, but doesn't end when it begins –?" Jim punched his hand. "Shoot, that's not it! Could you repeat the question?"

"Kangaroo! Golf! Socks! Magic! Warhammer! Baby deer!"

"DEATH!" shouted Nomura. "The answer is death!"

"What?" Gatto gasped. "No one has ever answered that before … and lived to tell about it."

The celebration at getting the correct answer ended immediately.

"And that's the hazard of riddle games where the answer is death," said Nomura. "Most riddle-givers pick that answer because it's what they plan to give the riddle-solvers anyway."

The group was surrounded by four masked trolls, all armed with axes about twice the size of the hammer Toby carried.

"Your entire keep is a trap!" Blinky accused Gatto. "You hoard treasures as nothing but bait!"

"Oh, come now. A mountain has to eat, you know." He opened his mouth, like he expected them to just obediently walk in.

Jim summoned Daylight. The volcano trolls all flinched back from the burst of light.

Nomura lunged at the guard nearest to the ladder. She caught the axe between her swords and twisted it out of the masked troll's grip, flinging the weapon into Gatto's mouth – he yelped when it caught his tongue – and in the same spin she kicked the masked troll off the platform.

Draal punched a masked troll, then grabbed them and another one and bashed their heads together.

Blinky swung Jim's backpack like a flail at anyone who got too close to him. Jim heard a cracking noise, either from the head or the white noise generator, but that wasn't important.

Jim swiped a masked troll across the belly, leaving a shallow cut and causing them to bellow in pain. He threw a knife at another one that was going after Toby, who was doing his best to parry their axe strikes.

Nomura kicked another one off the platform, and Draal threw a third, but more were climbing up, and driving the group back towards Gatto's mouth.

"Get them!" Gatto egged the smaller trolls on. "Prepare the chimichurri!"

A masked troll landed a punch on Nomura and knocked her backwards into Toby. Gatto's tongue flicked out and tossed them both into his mouth.

"I don't want to be food!" Toby howled, before Gatto's jaws snapped shut around them and the mountain gulped.

"Toby! Nomura!" Jim screamed. "TOBY!"

"RAH!" Draal charged Gatto –

"Draal, no!" Blinky shouted.

– and Gatto simply opened his mouth again and swallowed the rolling troll.

Jim's helmet sealed as he switched to troll shape. He threw a volley of knives at their attackers, who backed off for the few seconds he needed to shove Blinky to the ladder.

"Get to the Gyre!" he roared. At one level down, below that horrid mouth, he turned and lunged at Gatto.

Swallowing wasn't instant. If he could get the throat open, he could still save them. He didn't know if he could gut a mountain but he'd find out if that was what it took to get Toby back –

Daylight was a sword, not a pickaxe. Jim slashed and stabbed, and scratched with his now-clawed gauntlets and boots, and made barely any headway.

"Jim!" Blinky was now several levels of scaffolding lower, and fending off more of the smaller volcano trolls with an axe he must have grabbed from one of them. "Were we not attempting to vacate?"

Jim let go of Gatto and slid down the mountainside, and with another roar he stabbed the troll nearest to Blinky through the eye with one of his daggers, shattering the lens on that side. The troll bellowed in pain and clutched their face, dropping their axe. The dagger vanished, leaving an open wound, and reappeared in Jim's hand. He sliced into the arm of another attacker.

The troll with the injured eye staggered and, between the pain and the sudden loss of depth perception, knocked the other masked trolls off the platform. Blinky threw the ladder after them, reducing pursuit from above.

Jim turned to start burrowing through Gatto's hide again.

"Jim!" said Blinky again. "We must leave!"

He barely heard Blinky. He certainly didn't hear his phone, chiming the alert for an incoming text.

+=+

The stomach was even hotter than the 'outside' had been. Toby had gone through both his water bottles during the climb up to meet Gatto and didn't have any left. Not that this was his primary concern at the moment, considering –

"We just got eaten!"

"I noticed," said Nomura scathingly.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, this isn't happening, this isn't happening –"

"Do you have an international plan?" she said, interrupting his entirely justified freak-out.

"What?" asked Toby. "What does that have to do with anything? We're in a stomach! It doesn't matter what country the stomach's in!"

"Ugh. I'll take that as a no." She got her phone out of the duffle bag she carried and shoved the device into Toby's hand. "Text Jim. We're alive, Gatto's Keep is Gatto's gut," gesturing at the gold and artefacts around them, "and we're going for the Birthstone."

Assuming the lava-acid, which was rising, didn't get them first.

Draal came down the tunnel, fast enough he shot over their heads and over pool of lava-acid, skipping once (with a roar of pain) and landing on the other side.

"Draal! Are you okay?" It was a stupid question that Toby asked without any conscious thought.

Draal uncurled and growled. He gingerly touched his right arm, which looked shinier than usual and must have been what touched the lava.

"Where are we?"

"Gatto's Keep," said Nomura. "I guess that's one way to deter theft. Find the Birthstone. And be careful what else you touch, some of this might be cursed." She put a triangular thing with green gems on it into her bag. "We'll crawl up his throat and choke him or something once we've got it."

Wow, Nomura was not a detailed texter. Toby saw the last few messages she'd exchanged with Jim while he was typing.

Jim: -Today still works to check that collection?-

Nomura: -16:30- -canal-

Jim: -Okay, see you there!-

Toby, on Nomura's phone: -still alive- -gatto's keep in stomach- -going for birthstone-

Toby put her phone in his pocket and started digging through the piles of gold.

Curses or no curses, if Nomura got to take souvenirs, Toby was totally stealing some of these gold coins.

And maybe that glowy purple rock –

Wait –

"I think I found it!"

+=+

Jim – Jim couldn't do it, he couldn't stab deep enough to cut Gatto open and protect himself and Blinky at the same time –

He kept having to abandon his spot and climb down a few levels, and start over at an even thicker part of the mountain's hide –

Blinky kept urging him to the Gyre, but they couldn't leave, not yet, they had to get Toby back, they had to get Nomura and Draal, they couldn't just leave them behind –

Jim drew one of his poisoned knives. He carried more varieties on him than just Creeper's Sun. Gatto couldn't get away with this. Jim was the Trollhunter, he wasn't going to let some troll eat a human right in front of him. He wasn't going to let some troll eat Toby and live.

He drove the knife into a cut he'd already started with his sword, and left it there while fending off the masked trolls again, then ripped it out.

If Jim didn't manage to kill Gatto today, the troll would suffer a much slower death.

+=+

Draal had been favouring his burned arm. He looked up the steep tunnel of Gatto's throat and tried to lift his burned arm, and grunted in pain.

"I … I can't climb out. You'll have to leave me behind."

"What is wrong with you today?" Nomura demanded. "You've never been this – this fatalistic before."

"Guys," Toby interrupted. "There's another way out, but you're not gonna like it. If this is his stomach, then there's a 'back door', and if we upset the stomach," he tossed a nearby crystal into the acid, where it dissolved with a flatulent sound, "then we might have a chance to be passed through."

Nomura grimaced. "We're going out that way eventually." She started tossing things into the acid as well. "I'd rather go out alive."

"What are you both –? Oh." Draal's eyes widened and he looked like he might have an upset stomach himself. "That's – ugh. The shame of being remembered for that."

"There's no shame in survival," said Nomura.

Draal grabbed an entire shelving unit of bottles and threw it into the acid, where the potions exploded with blue light. He fell back and began coughing.

"Draal?!" Toby cried.

"I'm alright, I'm – is that my voice? Is that my" – he coughed again – "voice?" The high squeak had gone back to its normal gravelly depth. Draal shook his head and helped Nomura shove a heavy crate into the acid.

Toby started coughing too. It was so hot and smoky …

The troll, the Changeling, and the human climbed onto a boulder that hadn't melted yet. The lava continued to rise. They balanced precariously. Draal and Nomura were both forced to duck as they got closer to the ceiling.

"I guess this is my last chance to eat these," Toby lamented, taking out a taco. Nomura's eyes widened. Toby had only taken a single bite when she snatched the food and the bag out of his hands and threw them into the gut-lava. "What –? No! Those were Diablo Maximus!"

"And if this doesn't work, you'll die with that taste in your mouth."

The acid level started to drop – spiraling like it was going down a drain. Draal wrapped his arms tight around his two smaller companions.

"The back door!" cried Toby. "It's open! I gotta text Jimbo!"

All three of them screamed as they surfed on the boulder through Gatto's volcanic intestines.

+=+

Blinky kept an eye on Jim as they climbed and ran and fought and climbed some more. It had taken until they were nearly halfway down Gatto's sides to convince Jim to flee instead of continuing to attack. Blinky was ready to physically pull the boy along if he tried it again.

This was awful. Horrible. And all Blinky's fault, besides. Coming to Gatto's Keep had been his suggestion, and it had cost three lives already, and if they died here as well, the Amulet would become another part of Gatto's collection, no good to anyone.

But there would be time for blame and grief and stewing over what else might have gone wrong once Jim and Blinky were out of there and no longer in mortal peril.

Gatto tried to grab them with his craggy hand. Jim roared and nearly deprived the mountain troll of a finger.

Gatto said something, but his head was too far away now for Blinky to make it out. It might have been 'nachos'?

Another taunt about how he intended to eat them, no doubt.

"No more guards?" said Jim. They were off the scaffolding now, and it looked like a straight shot to the Gyre station.

The ground started to crack and rumble ominously. There were spurts of lava, and a smell Blinky hadn't expected but regretfully recognized. They ran faster.

Someone screamed behind them.

"Start it up! Start it up! START IT UP!"

"Toby!" Jim yelled.

Tobias, Nomura, and Draal erupted out of a rock wall nearby. They all cried out when they crash landed, and then ran for the Gyre just as Blinky and Jim were doing. Draal grabbed the Gyre's outer wheel and, with a bellow, set it spinning to jumpstart the vehicle. They piled in, and zoomed away.

It was a miraculous escape. Blinky would have to record this for the history books.

"I am – so sorry," he said to them all. Even at the Gyre's speed, it would take some time to get to Arcadia from Ojos del Salado. "If I had realized the nature of Gatto's Keep, I never would have brought us there."

"He did have the Birthstone," said Nomura. Blinky turned just enough to see her with his outermost eye. She seemed unscathed, and was still wearing a hat. Her bag was now bulging with whatever else she'd … claimed as recompense for the trauma of today's experience.

Blinky turned the other way to check as best he could on Jim and Toby. Draal was in the centre of the Gyre bench and hardest to see without turning around, though Blinky could at least tell he was there.

Jim was wrapped around Toby. His helmet was open again, and his eyes were glowing. Toby was clinging to Jim as well, and breathing hard.

"I saved us," Tobias bragged. "My tacos were the key to our grand escape." Jim tightened his grip.

He didn't let go of Toby until they reached Trollmarket. AAARRRGGHH was waiting for them at the Gyre station. (And oh, that made Blinky's gut twist, to think AAARRRGGHH had been sitting there awaiting their return and they might not have come back because Blinky had led them into danger.) AAARRRGGHH reached into the basket to help Toby and Jim disembark.

Jim let go of Tobias and swiped at AAARRRGGHH with Daylight.

AAARRRGGHH recoiled, unhurt physically – Blinky had seen the distance between his hand and the sword – but wounded all the same.

"Jim?" said Toby. "Dude, calm down."

"Red eyes," said AAARRRGGHH. Jim's eyes were still glowing. "Hurt?"

Draal, who had been climbing down the other side of the Gyre, grunted and lost his balance. When he got up, Blinky finally got a proper look at him.

"Great Gronka Morka, Draal, what's happened to your arm?!"

His right arm was half grey, with pits starting to form where the dead stone had cracked, and the patches that were still blue were far glossier than was natural, like he'd spent a month buffing and polishing his hide.

"Gut-lava," said Draal. His eyes were out of focus. "And straining. And that fall, just now."

"He used his arms to shield us while we were – getting out," said Toby, giving a sideways look to Jim before finishing that sentence. "And he landed badly coming in."

"Need Vendel," AAARRRGGHH decided. He offered his open hand to Jim and Toby again. Jim growled and readied his sword.

"You two take him," Nomura said. "Jim can't go through the market with his eyes like that, and he's not going to calm down until he stops thinking he has to protect his human from another troll any second."

Blinky and AAARRRGGHH looked at each other. Blinky split his focus to look at AAARRRGGHH, Jim, and Draal at the same time. AAARRRGGHH looked from Blinky, to Jim, to Draal, then back to Blinky, and nodded.

AAARRRGGHH moved to stand on Draal's injured side. Blinky climbed out of the Gyre – Jim turned the sword towards him for the moment it took to get to the steps, moving closer to the human and Changeling than he'd been whilst at the controls – and stood at Draal's other side.

He was loath to leave, but Draal needed medical attention, and Nomura was right that proximity to larger trolls seem to be increasing Jim's distress.

Blinky turned an eye back to Nomura.

"What about you?"

"I'll stand guard and make sure no one else walks in on this." She sat on the floor and opened the bag she'd been carrying. "I can get started on cataloguing while I wait."

"And will you be alright, Tobias?" Blinky asked.

"I think so?" The boy looked at Jim uncertainly. "Dude, it's Blinky and AAARRRGGHH. They're not gonna hurt us. Shouldn't it be my turn to be freaking out right now?"

+=+

"I'm sorry," said Vendel to Draal, as gently as the brusque elder was able. "The damage is … severe. I suspect your arm cannot be saved. I advise that we amputate, to keep the cracks from spreading higher, so your shoulder can be fitted with a prosthetic."

Draal grimaced. He stared at his cracked, pitted arm and flexed his fingers with a wince. A few more chips came loose. He touched one of the worst with his uninjured hand.

For the examination, the leather strip that usually wrapped around his right wrist was removed, showing the scarred crack that extended onto his hand. Vendel remembered treating that wound – he'd been worried Draal would lose his hand then as well.

"What if we used metal packing?" asked Draal.

"You lost some mobility in your wrist last time," Vendel reminded him. "If we tried that now, with your more extensive injuries, the amount of metal necessary and immobilization while you healed would likely lock the joints in place for good. And we would need to clear out the dead stone before we begin. Depending on the depth of damage," which was already and obviously deep, "your arm might come off in any case."

"… Can I have some time to think about it?"

In a sense, no, because the longer he went without treatment (beyond the painkillers Vendel had already given him), the worse his injuries would get, and the more likely it was the decision would be made for him.

"If you can remain still while you decide, I can give you a few hours."

"Thank you."

Vendel was not a prayerful troll, but he prayed he wasn't just giving Draal false hope.

+=+

"Hey, your eyes are blue again!" Toby cheered. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Maybe."

"And you're using words!" He patted Jim on the shoulder. "Think maybe we can get off the Gyre now?"

Jim looked at Nomura, still sitting on the station floor in troll form with her stolen treasures spread around her, and shook his head.

Early on in her sorting process, she'd propped up one of her treasures next to the Gyre – a trident with a red gem set on a ring below the fork. The red gem had started glowing when she'd turned the ring and seemed to be sucking all the heat from the room, which was an incredible relief for Toby's overheated skin.

"Dude, come on. I thought she was, like, your friend?"

Nomura laughed. "Oh, we go way back."

"… I can't tell if that was sarcasm or not."

"It wasn't," said Jim.

"So why is she scary to you?"

"Excuse me, are you not intimidated by me?" she asked, casually running her finger along the length of one of her cool swords. Which seemed like kind of the opposite of helping Jim calm down.

"You helped us," Toby reminded her.

"And we're all richer for it," she agreed.

Seriously, was she being sarcastic or not? Or, maybe not sarcastic, but … teasing? Was that it?

"You got eaten," said Jim, as though Toby could possibly have forgotten this. "By a troll. You getting eaten by a troll is literally one of my worst nightmares. I can't … I can't let you be in Trollmarket right now. There's too many trolls I don't know. I probably shouldn't fight them all, but I'm going to want to."

Toby sighed and turned back to his phone. He loved Go-Go Sushi, but there were only so many times he could play it in a day.

Oh, hey, wait, phones.

"Here, you should take your phone back." He put it as far down the Gyre's foldaway steps as he could reach without getting off the boat and having Jim grab him again. Nomura waited until he was back in the boat before standing to get it.

"Why do you have Nomura's phone?"

"From when we texted you we were alive. She's got an international plan and I don't."

"I didn't notice the text come in," Jim admitted.

"That's fair. You would've been pretty distracted."

+=+

Draal didn't want to lose his arm.

He had no regrets about what he'd done – if he hadn't been there, Nomura or Tobias would have been the ones hurt, or might even have fallen off the boulder and died – but he would rather have been able to save them without ending up in this position.

Draal liked his body. He liked his arms. He liked his strength and agility, and his reach, and how easy most weapons were to use, and how easy it was to switch between going on two legs, all fours, or a roll.

Whatever happened now would change that. Patch job or prosthetic, he'd have to restart his training to compensate for the change in balance. He wouldn't have the same reach or flexibility anymore. His grip on two-handed weapons would change.

It would have been easier, in a way, if he'd been hurt badly enough for the arm to come off on its own. Then at least he wouldn't have to decide whether to have what was left of it cut off, or to try and salvage it and risk seeing it crumble away in any case.

He wished his mother still lived in Trollmarket. Ballustra was a weaponsmith, but she had done prosthetic work as well, and helped with injuries that needed metal packing. He trusted Vendel to give him good advice, but … Draal wanted his mother.

(She'd gone back to the Old World a few centuries ago, after she and Kanjigar had divorced. Draal hadn't actually seen her in person for almost twenty years now. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until he started thinking about her.)

He sighed heavily. The movement of his chest caused his arm to move on the table. A few more pieces flaked off. Had they been already broken and sitting there, or had they just broken away? Was it his imagination, or did some of the cracks just get a little bit longer?

With the depth and spread of the fissures, metal packing would noticeably increase the weight of his arm. Draal would be fit to return to the field far sooner if he accepted a prosthetic, which could be graded to a compatible weight. He'd have use of two hands again more quickly, too.

Draal's blue hide had been nearly seared off in some places, exposing the veins of purplish crystal underneath. He couldn't stop himself from rubbing some of it. So smooth; a bit itchy at the edges.

Vendel had not simply left him alone. The Elder was looking through his supplies, giving Draal an illusion of privacy while keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't aggravate his wounds.

"Vendel. If … If we try to save it. What are the odds it'll work?"

"Very low, I'm afraid. We can keep it attached, if that's your wish, but it would likely not be functional."

"Meaning?"

"In the worst case scenario, it would be like an immobile prosthesis with bits of your living stone embedded in it. In the best case, you would recover about half the mobility you had before."

Draal grimaced. He studied what was left of his arm again. Gorgus, some of the pits were so deep they nearly went halfway through.

"Cut it off."

+=+

"Then we all reached the Gyre, and Draal worsened his injuries to start the mechanism."

They were waiting outside the Gyre station. Blinky had just finished reciting the day's events to AAARRRGGHH.

"This is my doing. I knew Gatto held a place on the Tribunal, but never even thought to ask Vendel's assessment of his character. So now Jim is terrified of us all, Tobias is probably also mentally scarred, and Draal is grievously injured for my failure as a researcher."

AAARRRGGHH, always a troll of few words, had no words that could make Blinky feel less responsible for what had happened. He tried anyway.

"Attacking was Gatto's choice, not Blinky's."

"He didn't attack us, AAARRRGGHH! He made his terms clear, and I knew better than to accept but I did anyway, and now –" He flailed his arms. "I can only be thankful Jim didn't actually hurt you, and no one actually died."

"I'm sorry about that."

They both jumped, and turned to see Jim and Toby. Jim's helmet was sealed, and he was between them and Toby, but he was unarmed.

"I shouldn't have agreed to the riddle game either," said Jim. "That was a stupid gamble. I should've just stabbed him in the face the second he started talking about eating us."

"I feel like that's not the lesson we should take from this, but at the same time I can't argue," said Toby.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let my fears get the better of me when I – I trust you. I know you would never."

"Forgiven," AAARRRGGHH assured him at once.

Blinky looked passed the boys, into the Gyre station. It stood empty.

"Where has Nomura gone?" And how had he not noticed her leaving? She would have had to go right past them.

"She wanted to see Draal before we left," said Jim.

+=+

"Hey," said Nomura.

"Hey." Draal lifted his new prosthetic hand in greeting. It made a faint clanking sound.

"… I came to show off all the stuff I took," she claimed, rather than admit she'd been concerned and wanted to check on him. Draal leaned forward.

"Show me."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Otto keeps unintentionally sabotaging his own coup.)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (As though Draal hasn’t been through enough, he turns human.)

This was the longest chapter yet! Helped along by how I had a few hundred words already prepped from the early days of fic writing, back when I thought they would be doing to search for the Triumbric Stones in canonical order and Blinky was still going to be the troll who turned human. How far we've come, eh?

There are two non-Tales of Arcadia cartoon references in this chapter, one to a show and one to a movie. Spot them for imaginary prizes! I'll reveal them in the notes for the next chapter.

I do not know what regular lava would do to a troll, but since Gatto digests that poor unfortunate troll in his introductory episode (seen sinking into the gut-lava when Toby and Blinky arrive in the stomach), I assume that particular type of lava can mess stone-flesh up. The term 'gut-lava' was used in one of the spinoff comics.

Out of curiosity, I looked up 'Ojos del Salado', which is a real place. Some fun facts: It is the highest active volcano in the world, and the second-highest mountain in both the Western Hemisphere and the Southern Hemisphere. It's actually on the Argentina-Chile border, and the mountain has two summits, one in each country. There is a crater lake on the eastern side that is believed to be the highest lake in the world.

Draal's mom Ballustra was named in the spinoff novels. I have not yet decided how much of the novels' depiction I will use, beyond the name and the job and the bit about her and Kanjigar being divorced. Or separated? The novel does not actually use the word 'divorced', but it does say they were married when Draal was born, and heavily implies they were not married anymore by the time Kanjigar died without providing a word for how the end of a marriage is described in troll society.

#Trollhunters #Changeling Jim #Becoming The Mask chapters #Tales of Arcadia #canon divergence #tw: loss of limb #Draal #Nomura #Tobias Domzalski #Blinkous Galadrigal #Vendel #AAARRRGGHH #Claire Nuñez #Darci Scott #Mary Wang #My Fanfiction #Monday is fanfic day!

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 4 years

Text

Hc inverse au! Fem Reader in Victorian era England and ynm characters are in our time.

You are a character in an anime and ynm are in real life

Williams

( he seems like the type to be into really dense, historical mangas)

He first read a manga featuring you when one of his students left their copy on their desk and he had to overview some students while they were using the presentation room.

He mostly just sat in the first row while the group of teens were recording hamlet for the theater class.

He didn't really took the story seriously so he started reading a lady who was trying to seduce a noble for a few pages, he was about to leave the manga given that he supposed it was a hentai but when you poisoned them with the wine cup he found it interesting

The main character had a set of very strong ideals that weren't so common in the historical context, be it strip nobles and royals from benefits, be a suffragette, or something similar .He ate the manga in five minutes

When he returns home (and leaves the item in lost objects, ofc) he checks online to buy the first volume to see if the background and sort are interesting along with every other volume and official light novel and Novella . He usually isn't home from very early to very late at night so it would be Louis most likely the one who receives the box with the books

"Brother, did you buy a box full of comics" Louis asks from the kitchen after he feels his older brother returning home

" oh? They already arrived? I thought they would be here next week" well Louis always was worries about how his brother didn't have any hobbies aside from teaching at the University so he was happy that he found something else to do with his life

He would ask for a sick day on a Monday or Friday so he could plan everything that was needed at his class that day and spend the weekend lazing around and reading the various volumes and the light novels. That day Louis and albert almost cried of happiness, that was the first time he took a sick day in all of his teaching years to take a break

The type of fan who creates theories that everything is symbolism, how they are ambidextrous to show that even if they intend good sometimes their methods are too extreme or how their hat was placed or the color of their clothes show their political affiliation. Nothing can be just a coincidence with him, everything means something

Is a big pain in the ass about historical inaccuracies, be it dress, manners or social hierarchy being off

" But listen this is the late Victorian era, where is their crinoline??/ They are supposed to be a Victorian dandy and the writer wants me to believe they would wear that? In that society?" williams turned on the lights to his younger brother room while walking in circles as if he was trying to calm down

" Williams it's 3 am. Please I want to sleep"

" Oh and don't let me get started when they crossdressed/dressed as lady northinburg, that tight lacing scene made me so angry" he was dragging his words, Louis guessed he was sleep drunk " how much I hate that, karolina or bernadette would kill those producers if they saw it" Louis simply opted to sleep while his brother was ranting about how the hairstyles were al wrong

When speaking of merchandising he appreciates his mature and elegant reputation so he would buy small things like cute stationery and notebooks and a few pens. Most of them either are about the main character, you, or have the anime title or something similar

A few students think that the professor brings some childish pens in case some student forgets one and he doesn't have to give them his mechanical pencil. He actually uses those pens when he is grading the exams. His notebook annotations look a lot cleaner and are more colorfully bc of the markers and pens

When and if your manga gets and anime he would be 100 percent bitching about how they skipped, if you are a minor character, scenes where you are introduced or you character gets development.

" Oh my goodness, they skipped to this ark? And 'the mask'? In that ark we get the development of many characters, yn, edward, Amélie, Alex. We are absolutely robed of their backgrounds and aspirations and how they are all connected"

" Brother be honest with yourself, you only wanted more animated yn, you follow their voice actor on twitter"

" That is not my point!"

Albert

he was watching it when he came late

Albert usually keeps company to his youngest brother until around 5-6 pm, then he leaves for work and returns around 12 am and eats dinner alone mostly.

When he returns from his job the house is more often than not totally dark so he makes his way to the kitchen and microwaves the leftovers and eats silently.

But one day it seems like Louis or williams forgot to turn off the TV before going to bed, he was about to turn it off but decided that watching something with the tv muted wouldn't wake his brothers up and kept watching.

He didn't pay much attention to it at the start but it became routine, he comes home, heats the food, sits down and watches that show so he grew quite fond of it

How much attention he pays to it depends on the type of plot it has, if it is light-hearted humor he would most likely not pay much attention but laugh when a joke came, one the other hand, if it's a more serious he would find it hard to take his eyes away from the screen

Second least likely to buy merchandising, if he buys it's mostly to wear home, a one size too big shirt for a pj (mostly for the comedy anime) or, if they aren't childish and look professional maybe a pocket watch like the one x character uses ( in the more serious one)

Won't buy the mangas if there are any because he is happy watching the animated version and already has to read a lot at work, but if he is gifted the volumes he will read them sparingly, maybe he will finish one volume every week and a half, unlike williams.

Louis

He spends most of his time home because of his illness and doesn't like to stress too much given that it makes the symptoms worse, he enjoys light hearted comedies or cooking in the victorian era or those typical time travelers who now have to live in different situations than those they are used to

He most likely found it after doing all the housework and being bored so he opted to browse the TV or netflix and fell on one specific serie

If it is a comedy he will listen to it while cleaning or cooking, he feels like he does everything faster and the housework is more enjoyable that way.

If it's a cooking related program he will watch as entertainment after doing everything and to get ideas what to cook, he is always surprised with the recipes that your character comes up with, be them savory ( things he will absolutely do the next day for lunch or dinner) or sweet ( things he will make more sparingly given he can't have too much sugar). I think of mangas and series like the duchess' 50 te recipes or shokugeki no soma

If it the third option he was interested on the alternatives to modern things, like how to make a more natural soap with animal fat and wood ash, or how to use certain plants to help a headache or stomach bug.

With merchandising he doesn't buy much, some kitchenware and some bowls mugs and maybe a tea set that isn't much of an eyesore. Overall he isn't all that crazy over that kind of things if there is a cooking book he will definitely buy it

He, like albert, doesn't care much about historical accuracy and if the events that happen are cohesive, he is there to have fun

Fred

He watched it because he heard his classmates talk about it and wanted to join them but was too scared to bother them if he didn't know anything. Baby has the social abilities of an anxious lobster

He comes home from college and looks the anime up in his phone and, like every broke college student, he watches it from an illegal streaming service.

He gets hooked up and stays all night watching it until his clock snaps him out of his trance and makes him drag his feet to his 7:30 am class

Fred tries and fails to talk to the group so, after the lesson, he drags himself to his room to be miserable alone. It's not until he reaches a certain chapter or episode where you say something that make him think, " if you wish to be loved you must face first your fear to be known" he keeps thinking about it, he didn't truly ever talk to the group, he cowarded before even trying.

The next week at that same lecture he approaches the group and tries to make some small talk

" Oh hey uhm i heard the past class that you liked (maga name)" he was this close to running to his desk and act as if nothing happened

" Yeah! You like it too?" The boy seemed to notice fred was nervous

" Yes! I really like it, what is you favorite character? Mine is yn" he certainly didn't have any favorite one before but after this he thinks your character is pretty good " they are really inspiring"

In terms of merch he is broke so there is none, If he had any money to spare he would buy notebooks and even those chibi statues or funko pops

#yuumori #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #moriarty x reader #albert james moriarty #professor moriarty #moriarty the patriot #mtp #ynm #gn reader #william moriarty #williams james moriarty x reader #louis moriarty

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rainy-day-gracie · 4 years

Text

Poker Face

hey hey hey !!

This was a Spencer Reid request for him to be not so sweet and innocent outside of work. Reader is a cards dealer at a casino and meets a man with good hair a knack for Texas Hold Em’. I hope this does your request justice, it was very very fun to write:))

Song is Poker Face by Lady Gaga, but you probably could figure that out:)

Fluff, little angst but not really, slight smut (??)

MASTERLIST

I wanna hold 'em like they do in Texas, please Fold 'em, let 'em hit me, raise it, baby, stay with me Love game intuition, play the cards with spades to start And after he's been hooked, I'll play the one that's on his heart

The first thing I saw was his curly hair, looking messy but probably styled like that intentionally. Then I saw his cut glass jawline, clean of any stubble unlike the sleazebags surrounding us. He looked over at me as I dealt the cards, and I almost fell onto the ground.

His deep brown eyes seemed to peer directly into my soul, analyzing every movement and twitch my body did.

“Hey, Honey, let’s get the game going, huh?” One of the players sitting next to the man with the curls snapped, and I remembered I was supposed to be working.

The moment the game began, I knew he would win. The way he studied every player so closely, carefully moving his chips with his nimble fingers, staring at me with what almost seemed to be... No way, I was getting in my head.

It was down to three players, a dude with a MAGA hat on, a guy with a much too long beard, and the man with the good hair, who I had named Curly in my head.

For a moment, Curly looked me in the eyes as I passed another round of cards, and I actually almost dropped the cards. After three years of being a dealer, that had never happened before. “Careful, those are important. Wouldn’t wanna fumble them now, would we?” Curly smirked, and I tried to carry on with the game like I wasn’t seriously crushing on this man that I just met.

I wanna roll with him, a hard pair we will be A little gamblin' is fun when you're with me Russian roulette is not the same without a gun And baby, when it's love, if it's not rough, it isn't fun

Beardie had been leering at me the entire night, his drink never running dry. “Sweetheart, you havin’ company tonight?” He slurred, reaching across the table to grab at my thigh.

In a flash, Beardie’s arm was twisted behind his back and his face was pressed flat against the table. Curly stood over him, glancing from me to Beardie. “Apologize to the lady,” Curly ordered.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m sorry, just let me go!” Beardie wailed, Curly letting him go as security rushed over.

“Is there a problem here?”

“Security, please escort this man out of the casino please,” I said curtly, jutting my chin out to Beardie, who rubbed his shoulder painfully.

As security escorted him out, Curly looked over at me with concerned eyes. I nodded to him, a small smile falling on my lips. The dude with the MAGA hat just sat, seemingly bored.

Curly won the game in two more rounds, making MAGA Hat down his drink and storm off towards the bar.

“Excellent job, sir, and thank you for handling the... incident, earlier,” I said sheepishly, handing Curly his winnings.

“My pleasure. Anything to impress a lovely lady like you,” Curly replied, and I hoped my blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt. He held out his hand for me to shake. “Spencer.”

I smiled, placing my hand in his. “YFN.”

Just like a chick in the casino Take your bank before I pay you out I promise this, promise this Check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous

My back hit the brick wall outside the casino, Spencer’s lips crashing hungrily against mine. He chuckled as I slightly shivered in the cold air, my revealing uniform offering little help to the chill. Spencer pulled away for a moment, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders before resuming our previous activities.

He tasted like whiskey and smelled of soap, two simple things I found strangely intoxicating. My hands tugged on his hair, a funny reminder of my previous name for him. Curly, I thought giddily.

Suddenly he stopped, keeping our noses pressed together but our lips not connecting. “I don’t do one night stands,” he whispered.

I immediately removed my hands from his hair, leaning back in the little space I had between him and the wall. “I’m sorry, we don’t-”

Spencer laughed, his nose leaving mine but his hands remaining firmly around my waist. “No, what I mean is... if we, you know, tonight... could a date possibly follow? Like, coffee, or something?”

In the hour I had sat and drank with Spencer at the bar, I knew enough about him to know kind of what I was getting into. Certified genius, doctor with three PhDs, poker prodigy, works for the FBI? My bar on guys wasn’t very high to begin with, but Spencer had raised the standards exponentially.

I smiled up at him, thinking of going on a date with this wonder of a man. “I think that would be very nice, Spencer.”

Spencer kissed me again, with passion but quickly. “Okay, let’s go to my place then. Get ready for the best night of your life.”

Can't read my, can't read my No, he can't read my poker face She's got me like nobody

TAG LIST: @squirrellover1967 @yomama-umbridge @tiktokslut @ sknnymnne @pinkdiamond1016 @vixengustin88 @infallible-thoughts @baby-banana @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @aquarius-pisces-rose

DM me if you want to be added! I have a separate Tag list for America’s Sweetheart, and I’m very bad at tagging people to begin with lol

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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gallavictorious · 4 years

Note

what about like mickey and geneva crossing paths somehow but don't know each other (i guess before the wedding bc i would guess they would have met at that point) and idk maybe she overhears him say something homophobic and she confronts him and somehow mentions gay jesus and idk. this is 100% inspired by my desire for someone to ask mickey if he knows gay jesus just for him to respond that he knows him biblically lol

Ah, this might just be the most justified desire in the world, nonnie; I salute you! Okay, let's see –

I'm thinking Geneva and a bunch of her friends decide to stage a protest of some kind. Maybe just to raise awareness of the plight of the LGTB+ community in general, or maybe in direct reaction to a store treating gay people less than right... let's be honest, there's a lot of shit happening, so it's not like it'd be hard for them to find a just cause. Brave and resolute they arm themselves with righteousness and march out in the name of their lord and savior, Gay Jesus!

March, as it happens, straight to A Certain Mall – CAN YOU GUESS WHICH? – where A Certain Disgruntled Darling – CAN YOU GUESS WHO? – works. Now, I don't think their protest is aimed at Old Army per se but maybe it happens right outside the store just next to it, and so the Gay Jesus Group and all of their signs and whatever other props they bring kind of spill over to halfway block the entrance to Mickey's workplace?

By rights this should be a case for mall main security, which I assume exists even if I have no idea what the right word for it would be, but let's pretend that they're unsure about how to intervene in a way that doesn't get them into trouble for being homophobic. Maybe their boss is a very anxious and pollitically minded person, highly unsuited for their job? Or just secretly supports what's happening? Either way, mall security does nothing. The protest continues. There's a crowd gathering, some jeering, some curious, and some in silent support. Between that and the protest itself there's not a whole lot of people making their way into Old Army which Concerns the staff working the floor there, and so they send Mickey out to deal with it.

“What's in it for me?” Mickey probably demands, savvy to the fact that this strictly speaking isn't his job, and the fuck does he care if a few hippies stand around chanting whatever so that no one can get in to the store to bother him while he dreams of all the stuff Ian and he can do to and with one another once he gets off work?

I'm not sure what the rest of the staff promise him, but it's good enough that fine, he'll go scare these rainbow kids away. So out he stomps and he immediately identifies Geneva as the ring leader, mostly because it's her holding the megaphon and leading the chants. Our highly questionable hero walks up to her, calling: “Yo! Gonna need you to pack this shit up and get the hell out of here. You're bothering the customers.”

Mickey's scary when he wants to be, that's true, but Geneva ain't no pushoever and she's used to standing up to all sorts of bullies – plus she has the unshakeable zeal of a true believer. She's not backing down, and maybe there's a small part of Mickey that can admire her courage, but a larger part is just really fucking annoyed at these people complicating his workday with this stupid crap.

Sadly (for Mickey) Geneva doesn't give a fig for his annoyance. She stares him right in the eye and launches into a spiel about how the store they're protesting has treated the LGTB+ community in a horrible, horrible way and people need to be made aware of the fact.

Mickey's face wrinkles in disgust. “And what the fuck's whining about it gonna do, huh? Someone insult you 'cause you're gay you beat the shit outta them, or you trash their fucking store to teach them a lesson, but nobody's gonna give a damn about a few signs. Besides, those ugly things” – he indicates the signs – “are boring as hell, you ain't gonna convince people of shit with those.”

(There's an alternative version of this story, I think, wherein Mickey now leaps into a lecture of how to make proper, eye-catching signs, and maybe even leads a little practical workshop in the art of it, because we know he's got an artistic streak. But as amusing as that image is, Mickey ultimately just doesn't care enough about whatever these people are doing to bother, so in this version of the story, that just doesn't happen. Sorry, guys. I cannot be blamed for Mickey not having a whole lot of communal gay spirit.)

Geneva is maybe a little surprised by Mickey's take on the whole thing, but not impressed: “Demanding that we should be interesting to be heard is putting unjust pressure on the victim of systematic oppression and – “

The crowd has followed this entire exchange with varying degrees of cautious interest and now someone – a big, beared man, probably, and likely sporting a MAGA hat too – calls out: “Nobody cares, you fucking dyke! Go suck a dick and maybe you won't be such a bitch.”

Geneva is sadly used to these sort of slurs, and she and her group are more than prepared to defend themselves, but before anyone has a chance to do or say anything, Mickey – whose face has collapsed into irritated disgust – turns around and walks straight up to the shouty bastard and gets right in his stupid face: “Yo, maybe you wanna keep your fat mouth shut, Cheeto-packer, or I'll give you a dick to suck on and I promise you, you gonna fucking choke on it.”

The man stares. The crowd stares. Geneva and the Gay Jesus Group stares too. Mickey, he just stands right there, smiling up at the far taller man; it's that dangerous smile of his, and the beared dude suddenly shows far more sense than his hat would suggest him capable off and walks away without another word.

Unperpetubed, Mickey turns back to the protesters: “So you gonna get out of here or what?”

Geneva isn't quite sure how to respond. She doesn't know what to make of this security guard and his frankly odd and contradictory behavior. “Thank you for shutting him up,” she begins slowly and a little grudgingly. “But we can't just walk away. Gay Jesus taught us – “

“Gay Jesus?” Ah fuck, he should have fucking known, and if he finds out that Ian had anything to do with this, he's going to fucking kill him...

Geneva frowns at his tone. “You know about Gay Jesus?”

Mickey's lips twist into something that's not quite a smile. “Know him biblically,” he offers sardonically, and he takes no small amount of pleasure at the sight of Geneva at an actual loss for words. (Sure, he's only known her for two minutes, but he has this feeling that it's a very rare sight indeed.)

Then he sighs; this has gone on long enough. He picks up his phone and calls his boyfriend (who has the very good sense to pick up almost immediately): “Ay, asshole, can you tell your fucking groupies to go be pains in someone else's ass?”

“... what?”

And Mickey explains while Geneva and her squad yet again stares and then Ian talks to Geneva and of course he doesn't talk her out of protesting – because she is right to to do it, let's not forget – but in the end they reach some sort of compromise that leads to the Gay Jesus Group taking themselves and their signs elsewhere, and Mickey swaggers back into the store, equally pleased and disgruntled. The staff working the floor has followed the entire thing and now they have questions, but Mickey just gives them one forbidding glare and they very hastily return to folding clothes and whatever. The customers start walking in; peace has been restored; all is well.

(And when he comes home that night the whole incident develops into a complicated – but utterly playful, never fear – argument about who owes whom what; does Ian need to make things up to Mickey for starting the whole stupid cult in the first place, or is Mickey in Ian's debt for needing him to resolve the situation? They don't actually reach an agreement on the issue, but I think it's safe to say that both of them feel quite satisfied by the time they eventually fall asleep in each other's arms.)

#okay so mickey didn't QUITE say something outright homophobic #and that's not because i don't think he would #it just... played out this way instead #hope you enjoyed anyway nonnie!#mickey's relationship to his own sexuality and identity #especially as it relates to the lgtb+ community at large #is endlessly fascinating to me #so thank you very much for this prompt!#also special thanks to noelle for helping me with the trump related insult #tw:#tw: homophobia #mickey milkovich #gallavich #season 10 #asks #meta ficlet #my stuff

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honey-bri-books · 4 years

Photo

Not everyone uses sarcasm or vents through social media like some of us do, but if Misha’s tweet (not included because he deleted it, and others pointed out that means he doesn’t want it on social media, anymore) was insensitive, then so are ALL of MY tweets. And other people’s. He’s not the only one tweeting or posting things, like that.

Anxiety and sensitivities are triggered more easily nowadays, but if we were all so literal and so serious and “polite” I would break down (if I haven’t already). I don’t believe in Stepford or Pleasantville. I don’t believe in being coddled, and don’t start crying when someone says something “negative” or “mean.” Or expresses their own opinion that does not hurt anyone, at all. It’s not a reason to put on a frowny face and act like a privileged idiot.

Misha does NOT need to apologize, unless lots of other celebrities are expected to apologize, for tweeting similar content that share his vibe.

Why do I feel this way? Besides the fact that Misha worked his butt off, bringing awareness to the importance of voting and getting involved in politics (and not just this past year)?

I grew up in an environment where if I made a sarcastic joke, my mother would start crying and look at me like I’m a monster. She was angry at me once, for wanting to go back to sleep, when there was an ambulance outside of our neighbor’s house at 2am, and expected me to look out the window with her until it left, saying I’m uncaring and something’s wrong with me. She started crying once, when an ambulance drove by and started praying (nothing wrong with caring, but she thought something was wrong with me for not responding in the exact same manner). She thought I wanted to be evil, because I saw a horror movie and then started crying....(all years before the pandemic hit, so that had nothing to do with it). Her response to me seeing Mean Girls was “That doesn’t sound nice. Why would you want to see a movie where people are mean?!” and looked horror-stricken.

So (in my mind) I couldn’t move or breathe or think for myself. I was told by my mother which member of the family I loved more than others, and that I wanted my sister to be my bridesmaid and was scolded for not making oatmeal the same way my mother does. I ended up estranging myself from her, in the end.

That’s why I acknowledge that Misha’s social media is HIS social media. He is not posting or tweeting anything to impress fans, as some may believe. He cares about the political situation, clearly. And if people are saying they’re sick of seeing his tweets? Block him, so you don’t have to. Unfollow him. Don’t follow Misha fans.

And Misha is not any fan’s responsibility. He doesn’t owe us perfect Tweets or words of advice or positive, bubbly, “this is fine” words of wisdom. He doesn’t need fixing. He’s not a Trump supporter. He did not approve of what was happening and did not think it was an opportunity to get likes or attention. He tweeted what was on his mind. He’s not happy about what happened! People are saying it wasn’t dark humor. If that’s true, it still shouldn’t have made anyone cry or extremely upset. In my opinion, that’s odd. It’s expecting someone to behave perfectly and say only what someone else wants to hear.

I’m sorry that some are feeling hurt (by literally everything he says?), but he’s the only person out there being smothered and silenced by fans. WE ARE NOT HIS PARENTS!!!! Other people are posting things similar to his posts/tweets (some are worse and supporting the MAGA-hats who were at the US Capital saying “Go get ‘em!” or “I love Trump”) <-- They are the problem, here!!! So, why is there such an extreme focus on Misha Collins, ONLY!?

He’s wrong when he doesn’t post anything, at all. He’s wrong when he volunteers at a food shelter/soup kitchen. He’s wrong when he posts anti-Trump. He’s wrong when he makes a joke. He’s wrong when he’s angry about something (and rightly so). He’s wrong when he sees people accusing co-workers of things that aren’t necessarily true and gets upset, but manages to calmly speak his mind without yelling at you. He’s wrong when he apologizes.

“Yeah, but the rogue...” His script did not include “I love you too, Cas,” that was the point of the the word “rogue” he did not mean it seriously are people insane?! “But an interpreter could lose their job, it’s serious...” A sarcastic person says something in an off-hand way, and you think that’s dangerous? Really? “Yeah but people who don’t know him...” ...could check in with people who do, and confirm it wasn’t an official PSA. NBD.

It’s fan entitlement. It’s unhealthy. It’s coming from a place of privilege and spoil. Let go of Misha, if you feel he’s been “hurting” you.

He’s not the problem. Do not hurt him, anymore. I wouldn’t blame him for leaving social media permanently, at some point. Refusing to attend conventions. Refusing interviews. He has the right to break off from connecting with fans, because of all the policing. I would have quit Twitter if I were him, after seven or eight or nine or ten people shared the buzz feed article “Please, Misha! If you care, read this!” “Misha, read this. You’ll know why your words hurt us.” “Misha I left a very important link in your...” JFC!

Misha doesn’t deserve the smothering he’s getting from people who are clearly obsessed with him. If your reply to that is “No, but he does need to apologize for what he said, and it was insensitive...” No. I’m not even asking Misha-haters to apologize. I’m hoping that they’ll stop telling Misha to apologize, or to delete tweets. It’s got to stop. Misha will cut himself off from the fandom completely, if things continue on, like this.

*Opinion Piece.

❤

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lost-in-sokovia · 4 years

Text

toxic - chapter 12

can we acknowledge THE STRUT? and honestly idek what i’m supposed to necessarily warn you about in this chapter, because i’m sitting here just diving in with a few thoughts and i hope i find a basic plot line along the way😅 please enjoy whatever i decide to spew out in this moment :)

Claire waited next to your apartment door.

She had progressively slid down in boredom on the wall beside it, waiting for you to finish doing whatever the hell you were doing with Ransom.

Her eyes were rolling so far back into her head it looked painful. A few residents of the complex would pass by and she would acknowledge their presence with a half-ass smile (and they would walk away staring at her in both fear and confusion).

She waited, and waited, and waited. She wondered what the hell you were doing in there. Her head perked up and her brown eyes narrowed:

Oh she BETTER not be sleeping with him right now, she thought bitterly. She let out a long and exaggerated groan and hit her fist lightly on the wall. Yes you were her best friend, but sometimes she thought you were a dumb bitch.

Well, she wasn’t too far off.

~•~•~

“I hate you,” you muttered to Ransom as he slid on his coat and shoes. He chuckled and shrugged.

“You hate me enough to make out with me, mhm. Well if that’s what I’m gonna get out of having this type of relationship with you, then I hate you too.” He winked. You turned pink and glared. He stood up straight and looked at you.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked suggestively. You pushed him towards the door and rolled your eyes.

“Bye,” you retorted. He strolled out as you shut the door behind him and glanced at Claire down on the floor who was glaring daggers at him.

Ransom cleared his throat awkwardly and walked away as Claire stood up and stomped into your apartment.

“What the hell were you two doing?” Claire yelled. You did a double take a crossed your arms.

“Nothing!” You lied defensively. Claire laughed bitterly.

“(Y/N) you’re a terrible liar!” She argued. You scoffed and furrowed your eyebrows. Claire stared at you with an impatient expression as she waited for you to spill the truth. You sighed reluctantly and rocked back and forth on your heels.

“I... may or may not have kissed him...” You began awkwardly. She eyed you and you groaned angrily in defeat. “God, Claire! I made out with him, alright?” You spat and walked towards your couch. Claire followed quickly and sat behind you.

“Girl! You can’t just fall for him over and over again like that!” She scolded. You didn’t respond. “It’s like he glances at you once with his pretty blue eyes and you’re toast!” She mocked. You growled quietly.

“I know, I know! But I swear I’m not dating him right now. He has to prove to me he won’t act the way he did again,” you explained. You remembered what you told him earlier, you’re going to have to work hard. He seemed willing to and that was a start.

You stared outside your window and watched the traffic and lights of the city. You wondered where Ransom was headed at this exact moment. Claire sighed from behind and stood up.

“If he shows up to the office again, he’s gonna have another thing coming,” Claire threatened as she gathered her things. You laughed to yourself and shook your head.

“We’ll work on not acting like a psycho as we go,” you responded. Claire locked eyes with you and you bit your lip.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Claire said softly before letting herself out. You waved and looked back out the window. Somewhere, Ransom was out there and making his way to wherever he was staying. You wondered what was going through his head and what he could be planning.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table. You glanced over and picked it up slowly.

Ransom Drysdale: Can I come over tomorrow?

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head in disbelief.

Maybe.

Seconds after sending you saw the little gray dots appear on the screen.

I’ll take that as a yes.

You smiled as you turned off a few lights before heading to your room. You were skeptical of the situation. You weren’t going to put yourself through something emotionally dangerous. But Ransom seemed to have made himself really vulnerable. He recognized how badly he had screwed up.

You sighed as you put on your pajamas and climbed in bed. You pulled the cold sheets up around you as they adjusted to your body temperature. You closed your eyes and frowned to yourself.

The emptiness of the bed was much more recognizable tonight.

~•~•~•~•~

The next morning you woke up on schedule and headed to work. It was a very uneventful day with no unexpected visits from Ransom.

He got the memo, he knew you were serious. He was also going to try his hardest not to screw things up again.

You knew you had to be careful when testing him like this. You didn’t want it to backfire on you, and yet you were somehow rooting for him. You wanted to see him change. You wanted to see him be better and not only for other people’s sake but for his too. You knew about his demons and you wanted to help him as well.

You made it to your office in no time and exhaled deeply. You were ready to start the day, hoping nothing would ruin it.

~•~•~

Not seeing you was killing Ransom.

Like, what was he supposed to do in this god forsaken city? Touristy crap was not his cup of tea and he wasn’t going to crush his reputation to act like one either.

He stared out his hotel room window at the morning city life and groaned in aggravation. How was he supposed to kill eight hours without some sort of company?

He flopped back onto his bed and pulled out his phone. Ransom could always make time to catch up with his family.

“Ransom what the hell?” Jacob sneered through the phone. Ransom grinned wickedly.

“Hey little buddy-“

“Don’t call me that.”

“-, how are ya?” Ransom asked with mock enthusiasm. Jacob only sighed into the phone in response. “Great, glad to hear it. You’ll never guess where I am right now.”

“You goddamn creep! You followed that girl to New York, didn’t you?” Jacob accused in disbelief. Ransom laughed.

“You’re a smart one, bet Walt’s proud. Want me to bring you back something? A MAGA hat, a swastica, some sort of symbol of communism?” Ransom retorted. He heard Jacob curse under his breath.

“Is there some sort of point to this call or are you just calling to be obnoxious?” Jacob asked shortly.

“Just catching up with my favorite cousin is all.”

The phone beeped as the call ended. Ransom laughed to himself and stared at the ceiling. He glanced back at his phone to check the time.

What do you mean that phone call was only one minute?!?!?

~•~•~•~•~

“See you later, bye!” You said to your coworkers as you walked out of your building. The brisk air hit your body and you shivered as your hair blew behind you.

“(Y/N).” You heard a voice say. You looked over and saw Ransom leaning against a small tree waiting for you. You smiled.

“Hey,” you greeted. Ransom walked up to you and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry if this is weird, but there are only so many interesting channels on TV and I only have so many family members to call and annoy,” he joked lightly. You giggled as the two of you began to walk in the direction of your apartment.

“No no, it’s fine. It’s kinda nice to have someone walk back home with me like this,” you confessed. Ransom took that as a small victory. “You could’ve walked around and visited the shops and restaurants though when you were waiting?” You commented. Ransom scoffed.

“Please, you can call me many things (Y/N) but ‘tourist’ is not one.” You shook your head and smiled. He was defintely still Ransom, but you enjoyed his sarcastic and passive-aggressive comments.

The two of you continued to walk and admire everything around you. Christmas decorations seemed to multiply by the day and since Thanksgiving was officially over, the echo of Christmas music echoed from the shops and speakers. String lights gave off a warm yellow glow and contrasted the reds and greens appearing everywhere. You were ready for the snow to start falling and make everything magical.

You finally reached your apartment complex and sighed as the warm air melted away the chill. You took the elevator up with Ransom and entered your apartment building.

“So, how often does Claire come home with you?” Ransom asked jokingly as he slipped off his coat and shoes. You laughed as you turned on your string lights and a lamp or two.

“She does come over quite a bit. And whenever she’s not here we’re always FaceTiming or calling each other anyway,” you explained. Ransom followed you into your small kitchen and leaned against the counter where Claire stood and glared at him the previous night.

Ransom watched as you quietly moved about and proceeded with your evening routine. He thought about what his life could be like if he was with you, seeing you like this every night. He’d have someone to come home to without doubt, his intrusive thoughts could come to an end, and he could be a different person.

It made his heart swell and his blue eyes practically turn into hearts when he looked at you.

“(Y/N),” Ransom spoke up. When your eyes looked up and met his, his heart raced. “What is it going to take for things to be like this?” He asked.

“Be like what?” You asked and cocked an eyebrow. He moved closer.

“This. Me, right here, with you,” he said softly. You sighed.

“I need to know you’re different,” you replied. Ransom nodded. “I need to know also that you’re not just different for me, but for everyone around you.” You didn’t feel like that was too much to ask. Would it take work, yes. But you were only going to be with a decent human being who had a heart.

“Well, it may be hard to get back the same wimpy boarding school Ransom you knew and love, but we’ll try for a similar version,” Ransom said with a smile. You giggled and continued to look into his sparkling eyes.

Before you could go any further, your phone rang. You sighed and stepped over to the island and grabbed it.

“Hello?” You asked with a twinge of annoyance laced in your voice.

“Girl I know that boy isn’t over there again,” Claire’s voice snapped through the phone. You scoffed in amusement and glanced over at Ransom.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean,” you retorted. Ransom stared in confusion, glancing around slightly.

“(Y/N) put me on speaker,” Claire ordered. You chuckled and moved the phone off your ear. Ransom moved closer as you pressed the button.

“You’re live, Claire,” you announced.

“Ransom, you keep your hands off that poor girl while you’re there, got it? I want you to distance yourself from her like we’re in some sort of plague. You should be thankful you’re even in her apartment right now. You screwed up and she’s so kind and generous enough to let you come back into her life. If she’d done it my way, yesterday would’ve been your last day here.” She lectured sternly. Ransom stared at the phone unenthusiastically as you nodded occasionally in agreeance.

“And you, (Y/N),” Claire continued. “Don’t you start listening to his excuses and sucky apologies. I don’t want to hear you tell me you caught some sort of STD from that boy,” she warned. Ransom’s jaw dropped as his expression angered slightly and you held back laughter. “And I don’t wanna hear about no baby either. You keep yourself away from him and no holding hands, cuddling, making out, and DEFINITELY no-“

“Alright thank you mother,” you cut her off. You took her off speaker and held the phone to your ear. “Is that all?” you asked.

“Yeah that’s it. I was just trying to scare him. I don’t like him but if he works hard enough and you think he’s good enough for you, you go sis,” she responded. You smiled.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said warmly before hanging up. You looked at Ransom who pouted against the counter.

“I swear (Y/N)...” he growled. You laughed.

“Oh you big baby.” You hugged him. He didn’t immediately hug back, but when he did he held you close. It was hard being vulnerable but he was willing to do it for you.

“I do want you to be friends with her though,” you added. Ransom rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see.”

that chapter didn’t totally suck, did it? i think that was kinda a nice redemtion chapter for ransom as we get to see him change. we also got to see some things through claire’s eyes at the beginning, which i really liked. did you catch the social distancing reference too? i thought i was clever😂 there’s about to be a huge time skip if you saw my last post. the next chapter will probably be kinda an explanation/catch up chapter that gives the details of ransom’s complete redemption and how he changes. thank you for your support, i love you all!🤍

tags:

@heyiamthatbitch @mcuclintasha @captainsmallassrogers @fangirlinacoffeeshopweshare @anisiamoisa @awesomelittledemarco03 @aletteredaffair @castellandiangelo @theangrylizard @frencchfries @takemetooneverlanddd @sp2900 @smilexcaptainx @monpetitcoin21 @marymoon18 @mccunted @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @chuuulip @sweetlittlegingy @lookalivefrosty @brookebradford @patzammit @stucky-is-life-thank-you @bval-1 @need-more-time @blowfishevans @polarcrystall @little-dark-empress @rosalynshields @asianbuttcheek @dailythotdotcom @topstory21 @canny1902 @alexxcorona113 @what-inspirational-name @summer-may @abbyalee @littlefiercequeen @stardancerluv @oncemorewithfeelingg @sophiealiice @snowxbarryxendgame @lilwickedred @jesseswartzwelder @princessdancingonthesunshine @irwxnhugsx @donutloverxo @cap-just-said-language @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho o @heyarely16

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey imagine #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale #knives out #knives out fanfic #ransom drysdale x fem reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans fluff

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inthedarkofficial · 3 years

Text

Stats at 25

I did this at 18 and at 21 because they felt like milestones, and... well, so does 25, I guess. It's going under this time though, because you know what that is? Growth.

Novels Written: In the Dark (no, really, it's done this time!), Dragons, In the Flames (which was meant to be In the Know), and I'm about 31,000 words into the real In the Know

Poems written: 40+

Agent Rejections: 21 this year alone (and I at about 30 total? Fuck)

Agent Requests: On their way, of course

Works planned: 15 novels, 4 short story collections, 1 encyclopaedia. 1 poetry collection, 1 short play, 1 nonfiction essay.

Publishing credits: 1 that we talk about (FourxFour baby!)

Characters: where do they keep coming from?

Lives lived: Why did I phrase this in the past tense? It's still happening

Life path: One step at a time, but an author, always

Books Read: Not as many as I'd like

Books to Read: A lot more than I'd like

Concerts seen: 27

Grades in piano: 3 (why do I keep including this?)

Memories: Treasured and painful and apparently something I have to fight for

Time: Lost all meaning this last year

Nickname: Still going by Padfoot, call me Roro and I will cut you

Clothes: So! Many! Clothes! but they make me feel better than ever

Style: It changes every day because I change every day

Friendships: How did I make new, incredible friends during a lockdown? I don't know, but gods bless D&D

Parents: We survived together in one house locked down for over a year, I'm so grateful for them

Family: I miss you Kali. I miss you nan. I want to hug you, Maddison. I want to give all of you a hug, honestly.

Enemies: I'm still coming for you, Derek

Sexuality: I keep looking closer and closer to see what the ins and outs are, but I'm bi and queer and that's enough

Gender: I fucking came out as genderqueer and I've started playing with pronouns and gender presentation and honestly? Never felt better

Hair colours: Literally could not tell you anymore. How many? Who knows. I want another.

Education: A in 11+, 2 A* and 8 A GCSEs, 1 A* and 2 A A Levels, 2.1 English Literature Degree, and I will finish this fucking proofreading course! Also, that masters degree is really calling me like a siren...

Tattoos: 2, and as soon as Covid allows it, I'll be getting more

Continents : 3

Countries: 10

Cities: I clearly counted this wrong and now? no clue

Homes: About to be 9!

Places to visit: I just want to go and see (and meet!) my friends, honestly

Vaginismus: Diagnosed! Fucking diagnosed!

Dilators: size 2!

Relationship status: Not going to be fucking decided by what some fucking Western doctor thinks I should be using my vagina for holy gods.

Standards: I want to be loved right down to my scalp. I enjoy my own company too much to settle for less.

Tears shed: My eyes hurt

Laughter: My ribs hurt

Jobs: 5, +writer, always. Fingers crossed for some sweet, sweet income soon though.

Readings: More! Let me do more! Covid, you bitch!

D&D campaigns: 1 abandoned, 1 shelved, 2 ongoing, 1 beginning soon

D&D Podcasts: R.I.P. Edge of Night

D&D characters: Where are all you stupid bisexuals coming from? (Not you, Caleb, we're thrilled to have you here)

Clean: Been a daily struggle this year. Not quite succeeding sometimes. But never fully relapsed. I can be proud of that.

Mental health: Ups and downs, but I'm taking back control

Physical health: Ready to fight doctors, but I'm getting there

Height: 5′2″, do I really need to keep recording this?

Shoes size: 3 (uk), I totally need to keep recording this

Weight: Most days I like my body, and that's a big improvement

Puns: cannot count how many times I got kicked out of skype calls this year

Beliefs: Maybe it's better to have ideas, but I've found names to give power to, powers to give love to, I have principles I live by, the faeries in the garden still get offerings, hawthorn trees carpet the garden in flowers, and I am enough. The worls is on fire, and full of people doing harm for no reason, so it's hard to believe that the world is good, but my life, at its core, is a good life. And I'm so grateful, even when things are hard.

Happy memories: even in the darkest and hardest of times, I have had moments of pride, and moments I felt loved. I know what unconditional love is. What could be better

Sad memories: Reclaimed, remembered, and not going to fucking control me.

How the things I planned to do at 21 panned out: actually learned what it takes to find an agent and though it took longer than I planned, I am now doing that process. Gave up krav maga, no regrets. Did finish my third novel (at least, first draft), then learned it was the wrong novel. But I did write a whole other novel. Graduated UEA with a 2.1. Successfully left Norwich and never have to fucking return! Have done freelance editing work and got a job at Debenhams, though Covid fucked those a bit. Wrote that fucking dissertation and it's fabulous. Did see Hamilton. Did put more hats on Cicero before he broke (but he's now getting repaired!) Decided a TEFL was an insane idea, I hate teaching. Did, indeed, continue to live and did a whole lot else.

Goals at 25: Keep submitting to agents, finish In the Know and work on the faery books, continue my physical and mental health journey, keep working with the dilators, move into my own house (!), find a steady source of income, start getting my poetry and other writing out there, finish my vaginismus article, visit my friends, get a new tattoo, keep volunteering at Pride, play enough D&D to justify all these fucking dice sets, get Cicero back, keep building the life I want.

Life at 25 years: when I wrote my "Stats at 21" post, I didn't know how much denial I was in. I'd totally repressed the memory of being sexually assaulted and I didn't even know about a condition that I've just learned has likely been impacting me in multiple ways all my life. I hadn't even met a person who would become one of my best friends, and then my boyfriend, and then my ex, and then totally out of my life by the time I write this. I barely knew the guy who is now one of the most important people in the world to me. I was only beginning to question my gender. I'd not questioned my sexuality in years. I've been through counselling, learned to stand up for myself, worked on so many projects I couldn't even imagine being a part of back then, been on a huge vaginismus journey that's still on going, started playing D&D, went to the graduation ceremony I never planned to attend, and I'm about to have my own house, just to point to a select few things. There's been a global pandemic (still ongoing), movements and trials that helped me find my truth and broke my heart, Brexit fucking happened, I lost my best, dearest and oldest friend (I love you Kali) and my nan... I could not have imagined what 25 would look like on the night I turned 21, just like at 18, 21 was impossible to picture.

So I guess... hi future Rowan. Happy 27th birthday (of course it's going to be 27). What does your world look like now? Did we fall in love? Did we make good dilator progress? How's the house? Did we decide on kids? I cannot begin to wonder what your world looks like, but I swear, I'm working on making it good.

"Soft and slow/Watch the minutes go/Count outloud/ So we know you don't keep them for yourself." - Halsey

#personal #rowan rants #bisexual cancerians who talk to trees day #no one should feel any inclination to read this #I am simply allowed my little public journalilng rituals #as a treat #july 3rd

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cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.)

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better.

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean #I missed all the 2020 bingos so this is the sort of shit you have to suffer with now #I bet you missed me now

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blackfemmecharacterdependency · 4 years

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BFCD Reviews by Nesha: We Are Who We Are

There's too much kissing in this show. I have to begin with that, because it's like a lot of kissing and I hate that about it, very much. It definitely has redeeming qualities, but I'm very upset by the amount of kissing I had to endure/try to avoid.

I didn’t liveblog or make notes for the first few episodes, but maybe started around 4/5. I took up interest in this one from @saturnineaqua and was NOT disappointed to see this story unfold. Really, I absolutely would love this show if it weren’t for all the kissing. What is with the production/directing that was like, “Yes, this kiss definitely needs to be long and have audio”? Gross. Lol.

This show... It's... Realistic without the blatant stuff that a lot of the shows that show teens are. They're on a military base in Italy and he's this jerk sergeant. He loves his "daughter," but the new Colonel, this lesbian with a very eccentric neurodivergent and queer coded son becomes best friend with them and so their dad is fucking TRIPPING.

This is actually a great cast. The boy who's Eddie from It, Chloe Sevigny is his mom, and these other kids Idek, but nobody is like, 'This person can't act." They're all compelling, even the unlikable characters. The character that this blog cares about highlighting - Caitlin Poythress is played by Jordan Kristine Seamón, who I’ve never seen before now but was DEFINITELY impressed with/proud of. I’ve seen it said that they are nonbinary, and the character is exploring trans identity, so I’m not positive their exact labels, though I’ve heard Jordan refer to Cait as she, so Idk if they’re she when they’re Cait and he when they’re Harper, but for that reason, I’m trying to merely use they/them/their pronouns for Caitlin/Harper.

Anyways, the first episode is a little hard because there's dick for no good reason, other than I guess for you to know that Fraser might be interested in dick? But, for the most part, the hard stuff isn't so punch to the gut. (At least for me). I was expecting to have to run into the almost inescapable unecessary hurting of Black female characters and that never came, so that was a HUGE relief, even though I spent every episode preparing myself for it, so I was tense about that. If that’s a thing that makes you tense, then I can tell you that it doesn’t happen, so you can watch this without that fear.

Baby... These outfits that Fraser leaves the house in... 😂😂😂

Kid Cudi standing out here looking like Michael Myers. He's doing some pretty good acting, because this dude is aggravating, but I love me some Cudi. Kid Cudi's character on this show makes me so irritated. He's a bad stepfather. An asshole soldier. He has a problem with a woman in charge, homophobic, wears a goddamn MAGA hat with his Black ass. 🙄 He ain't shit.

**********

I'm real sick and tired of everybody acting like Maggie doesn't have a fucking child! She's raised Fraser and is there for him. He reaches out to her. I hate this.

So, okay... This episode where their friend dies was the hardest watch for me. It was really real in terms of everyone having varying degrees of how they deal. Having known a lot of Black people whose *best* option was to join the military, I have a lot of emotions about young soldiers, despite fucking HATING the military as a whole.

Jenny made me REALLY sad. The way that women will give up their entire lives and identities, then when something happens she can't possibly have controlled, she blames herself for taking just a moment to do something for herself. 😭 But when she said, "If you had children, you would understand..." Damn. That's fucked up. That cut.

It honestly don't matter how much of yourself you put into a child, if you didn't birth them, people will always undermine those contributions in the long run.

Idk why I'm watching this show at a military base and didn't expect to have to have a death storyline. 🥴

I think this woman know that lady fucking her wife tho...

OOP SHE DO

Imagine walking in the house like, "I want it over between the two of you." 😂😂😂 Chile...

Hold up, Jenny... Wait.... I need to be in my notes. Not in the GC. And I meant Maggie. Dammit. I'm drunk.

SO... This heffa really said that "his daughter's not good for Fraser?" Ummm.. You've seen NOTHING to indicate that. Nothing at all. We need to discuss how Fraser's mom set him up on a date with a grown man as a "male figure" and that grown man damn near molested him whenever he stopped by unannounced.

This prayer in the rain 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

This is literally the only scene that Danny has been bearable in for me, and they gave him a great scene because I was very distressed, thinking something was going to go wrong, but no. It was just a Black Muslim man praying! 😭😭😭

MY GOD PLEASE STOP WITH THE FUCKING KISSING. THEY'VE BEEN KISSING FOR LIKE A FULL MINUTE. I'M GONNA VOMIT.

You can only cover your ears and shit your eyes AFTER it's begun. You've already been exposed to the mouth sounds and tongue touches and further exposure when you check to see if it's over. 😤😤😤

If you're a kissing repulsed person... I'm not giving markers, because I avoid kissing vehemently. But like.. be warned that there's a lot of kissing. There's kissing every episode. Mouth sounds and all.

Overall, very good show.

I love the way that Fraser always asks Cait/Harper, "What does this have to do with us?" I love how, even though we don't realize it until their friendship forms, but they've been an "us" since almost the beginning.

The way that Caitlin responds to Fraser telling them about Mark is one the most touching things in the world, and it's very important that he admitted those things, because those of us who watched him from the beginning saw him do that with Caitlin... only, she didn't shun him that way. She befriended him and began exploring her own identity.

Yoooo... This last episode. 🥺🥺🥺

Whenever Harper has this Cait meltdown or whatever and Fraser is texting ☹️ Then he leaves the possibility of "seeing the most beautiful place in the world" to go after them 🥺 AND THEN HE BROUGHT THEM BACK TO IT 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 For the love of... WHY? IS? THERE? SO? MUCH? KISSING??

Do people who kiss people kiss this much in real life? Do y'all be touching tongues this regularly??? 🤢

I mean... It just felt like excessive kissing. If they had cut down the kissing even to just us seeing the kisses that these two characters had, and us getting to this final kiss and it being like, “Awww, they said they weren’t gonna kiss, and they ARE AKJWNWSKLNKJLQDWNMKLWEMEWKL” But like... Several characters all over this piece was kissing, and I know... it feels like I’m placing a lot of emphasis on how much kissing there was, that’s because it felt like that’s how much it was to me, who does not enjoy kissing or watching others kiss and definitely not hearing kissing or mouth sounds of any sort. So, its important to me.

But. like, yes. I will definitely stick with this show if it returns and I love the main characters very much.

#BFCD Reviews by Nesha #Nesha Watches #Nesha Watches We Are Who We Are #We Are Who We Are #Caitlin Poythress #long post #Jenny Poythress

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

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In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 5- Grocery Shopping

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary. This part, specifically, has themes of prejudice on the basis of religion and bigotry.

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

_________________________

Luke’s grocery shopping this week. Not a crazy feat or undertaking. It’s just the way things worked out. You have to proctor a mid-term exam and then meet with a student about their paper after your lectures, so you lack the time today. Wrangling your three children is a task and a half. Noor isn’t the problem, the oldest two groan and complain. Ra dislikes the grocery shopping because why does it take all of them to go. Zeek dislikes it because he can never get the chance to race the shopping carts. Typically due to safety reasons. He’s never seen someone get seriously hurt by a cart, but he can’t refute you or Luke.

Luke tucks some of his hair away, reading over the list you left as the oldest two bicker of something. The headphone incident was already taken care of, so who knows what this argument was about. He decides to let them hash it out. Though he’s praying that things are settled soon. There’s nothing else he needs to add to the list, so he shouts up the steps, “Guys! C’mon.” Luke purposefully adds cracks into the shout because it grates their nerves.

A couple minutes go by and they still haven’t descended the steps. “I’ll keep shouting!” he bellows, more cracks breaking into his words.

“Geez, alright!” Zahra shouts back, climbing down the steps. Followed behind her is Zeek.

“Thank you for joining us. Your baby sister and I have been waiting for you two,” Luke laughs.

He situates them all in the back two rows of the car, double checking that none of them have tried to get around the seat belts. Luke settles into the driverseat and sets off. Zeek lets out a small sigh. Luke glances in the rearview mirrors to see his arms folded. “What’s up, bud?”

“Nothing,” is Zeek’s mumbled response.

“He’s mad that he lost in rock, paper, scissors,” Ra speaks.

“I can speak for myself,” he retorts.

“Hey, whoa, let’s take a moment,” Luke mediates. “What was this game of rock, paper, scissors about?”

“Window seat,” Zeek replies. He stares straight forward. He can sort of see out of the front window. But it’s not the same as the window seat. Noor is to his left and Zahra’s to his right. He has no freedom in the middle. “I thought it was going to be the best two out of three.”

“I never said it would be,” Zahra defends.

“But it always is the best two out of three and you know it.”

Luke sighs. It’s a little too late for him to do anything to rectify the situation as it stands. “Okay, well, Ra next time you need to make sure everyone’s clear on the rules. If not, that’s cheating.”

“I didn’t cheat,” she protests.

“But you manipulated the situation in your favor. That’s not fair. That’s cheating.”

There’s a grumble from the back. Maybe her dad is technically right. But she didn’t cheat during the actual game of rock, paper, scissors and that has to count for something. “He can have the window seat on the way back,” she offers.

Zeek looks to her. She’s glancing at him out of the side of her eyes. She doesn’t want to be known as too nice. Just nice enough as the older sister. Zeek nods, with a small twitch of a smile. They weren’t always at each other’s throats. Just most of the time.

At the grocery store, Noor volunteers to be set in top of the basket. Zahra glances up to Luke and he caves. Lifting her up into the basket, Zahra settles down. She’ll have to climb out soon enough. But for now she can enjoy the space. Zeek gets to steer the cart. Luke, however, wraps his hands around the handle next to his. “Love you,” he whispers to his son.

“Love you too, Dad. Where do we start?” he asks.

“Produce,” Luke responds. Zeek nods and pushes along.

Grocery shopping is fine. Noor helps decides on the grapes. The leafy greens excite no one in the group but it’s on the list so Luke dares not ignore it. Especially since he skipped them last time and got an earful from you. Ra climbs out of the basket before they hit the aisles, wandering through the junk food before begging for a packet of oreos. Luke is much too soft to say no.

The four of them stop at the cereal aisle. Luke’s eying the cinnamon toast crunch for himself. Though he knows if he buys a box, the children will want some. Just as the family box hits the bottom of his cart, he catches someone grumbling further down the aisle.

Luke ignores them. “Mommy’s going to be upset,” Noor laughs.

He grins, tucking a section of her curly hair behind her shawl. She wanted to wear it out today and he couldn’t deny his baby girl. It made him a little nervous. How would people react? How would he handle it if it went south? But it all faded away when she pleaded with her pouting lips and big eyes. “Eh, she won’t be mad when she’s eating a bowl.”

The little girl laughs. Knowing it to be true down to the core. Luke does decide to grab the raisin brand that you listed. He knows late at night the two of you will be sneaking bowls of sugary cereal. As they continue on, Zahra t pauses, pointing out a box of Trix. Luke sighs. “It’s that one or the Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Gotta choice.”

She whines, knowing it’s going to go to a vote. “Fucking terrorists, I’m telling you,” a gruff voice whispers. “Take them back!” he shouts loud enough for everyone on the aisle to stop.

Luke turns to the offenders, red MAGA hat on their head. His knuckles tighten around the basket handle. “These are my children you’re talking about,” he speaks through gritted teeth. “Their mother is the most loving woman I have ever met. The only thing she and my children need is for racist assholes like you to fucking disappear. You and your racist beliefs are the problem here, not me, not my children, not my wife, you bastard.”

The man shouts more at Luke, but he turns his back. They get a few aisles over; Luke thinks about walking back over and punching him in his pink face. He’s never seen himself as a fighter, but his family- the people he loves more than anything- he’ll fight for. He’d take a bullet for. He wouldn’t want to, but it’s them first.

“Baby girl, you okay?” he asks, turning his attention away from the drama.

She nods, eyes a little teary. He pulls her from the seat and sets her on the ground with her two siblings. They watch their father in shock. “Do not ever, and I mean ever, listen to people like him. You belong on this earth; you are not terrorists because of your beliefs. You are my children and I love all three of you to death. Our society is not always safe for you all.” Luke pauses, feeling the tears stinging behind his eyes. He sniffles, pulling back some snot and wipes the tears.

He clears his throat and continues. “I wish I could change that with a snap of my fingers. But when you encounter people like that, if you feel safe enough, stick up for yourself. If you don’t, walk away. Find help if you can. Call me or your mother. Call Uncle Calum; call Uncle Michael; call Uncle Ashton– it doesn’t matter. The most important thing is your safety, above all. You have to get back home safely to me.” His voice cracks on the last sentence.

They nod at their father, seeing the tears falling down his cheeks. He hugs each of them one at a time and then they attach to him in a group hug. The rest of the grocery trip finishes in silence.

You walk to the house and Zeek runs up to you. “Mom! You should’ve seen it today! Dad yelled at this guy for saying bad stuff about us. It was a little scary.”

“He swore too; I made him put money in the swear jar,” Zahra adds on.

“Dad was basically a superhero though,” Zeek continues.

You look over to Luke and can still anger and fear lingering. His fists are clenched. His jaw twitches as he looks down at the recipe book. You make sure everyone is okay. Zeek and Zahra blow it off. But Noor clings to you a little. You rub at Luke’s back, one hand resting against Noor’s shoulders. “Wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head. A small piece of his hair falls into his face. You tuck it back for him, gently cupping his face. The scruff is turning into a beard. But not even that can hide how tight his jaw is. It’s best to leave this alone for now. So you distract with homework, listening to their day. You even go over homework.

Dinner goes by fine. Luke makes the kids laugh, double checks that the veggies are eaten. He’s more relaxed now than before. You know better. You can see the soft turn to his eyes. Something is not completely resolved. During clean up, Luke bends down, taking his son hands into his. You watch with the two girls, still holding plates to be cleared. “I know you called me a superhero, but you’re the real superhero. You’re my superhero.”

Your son throws himself into his father’s arm. “One day,” he starts, pulling away from Luke, “I’m going to write the best superhero comic ever and they’re going to look like me. And they’re going to beat up all the mean people and help save the world.”

Luke smiles. “Your old man’s going to buy the cost copy too.”

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings series #dad!luke #dad!luke series #5sos #5 seconds of summer #h writes #luke hemmings x south asian reader #luke hemmings x reader #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic

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clearlydeplorable · 4 years

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To the Leftists:

If you are a liberal who can’t stand Trump, and cannot possibly fathom why anyone would ever vote for him, let me fill you in.

It’s not that we love Donald Trump so much. It’s that we can’t stand you.

And we will do whatever it takes — even if that means electing a rude, obnoxious, unpredictable, narcissist (your words not ours) to the office of President of the United States — because the thing we find more dangerous to this nation than Donald Trump is YOU.

How is that possible you might ask?

Well, you have done everything in your power to destroy our country.

From tearing down the police, to tearing down our history, to tearing down our borders.

From systematically destroying our schools and brainwashing our kids into believing socialism is the answer to anything (despite being an unmitigated failure everywhere), while demonizing religion and faith, and glorifying abortion, violence, and thug culture.

From calling us racists every time we expect everyone of any skin color to follow our laws equally to gaslighting us about 52 genders, polyamory, grown men in dresses sharing public locker rooms with little girls, and normalize the sexualization of young children, you simultaneously ridicule us for having the audacity to wish someone a “Merry Christmas” or hang a flag on the 4th of July, stand for the national anthem, or (horror of horrors) don a MAGA hat in public.

So much for your “tolerance.”

(See why we think you are just hypocrites??)

We’re also not interested in the fact that you think you can unilaterally decide that 250 years of the right-to-bear-arms against a tyrannical or ineffective government should be abolished because you can’t get the violence in the cities you manage under control. That free-speech should be tossed out the window, and that those who disagree with your opinions are fair game for public harassment or doxing. That spoiled children with nose-rings and tats who still live off their parent’s dime should be allowed to destroy cities and peoples livelihoods without repercussions. That chaos, and lawlessness, and disrespect for authority should be the norm.

This is your agenda. And you wonder why we find you more dangerous than Donald Trump?

Your narrative is a constant drone of oppressor/oppressed race-baiting intended to divide the country in as many ways as you possibly can. You love to sell “victim-hood” to people of color every chance you get because it’s such an easy sell, compared to actually teaching people to stand on their own two feet and take personal responsibility for their own lives and their own communities and their own futures. But you won’t do that, you will never do that, because then you will lose control over people of color. They might actually start thinking for themselves, God forbid!

This is why we will vote for Donald Trump.

Not because he is the most charming character on the block.

Not because he is the most polite politician to have ever graced the oval office.

Not because he is the most palatable choice, or because we love his moral character or because the man never lies, but because we are sick to death of you and all of the destructive crap you are doing to this once beautiful and relatively safe country.

Your ineffective and completely dysfunctional liberal “leadership”(?) has literally destroyed our most beautiful cities, our public education system, and done it’s damndest to rip faith out of people’s lives.

However bad Donald Trump may be, and he is far from perfect, every day we look at you and feel that no matter what Donald Trump says or does there is no possible way he could be any worse for our country than you people are.

We are sick to death of your stupid, destructive, ignorant, and intolerant behavior and beliefs — parading as “wokeness.” We are beyond sick of your hypocrisy and B.S.

We are fed up with your disrespectful divisiveness and constant unrelenting harping and whining and complaining (while you live in the most privileged nation in the world), while making literally zero contributions of anything positive to our society. Your entire focus is on ripping things down, never ever building anything up. Think about that as there is something fundamentally very wrong in the psychology of people who choose destruction as their primary modus operandi.

When Donald J Trump is reelected, don’t blame us, look in the mirror and blame yourselves.

Because you are the ones that are responsible for the rise of Donald Trump. You are the ones who have created this "monster" that you so despise, by your very actions. By your refusal to respect your fellow Americans, and the things that are important to us.

You have made fun of the “fly-over states,” the people who “cling to their guns and religion,” the middle class factory workers and coal miners and underprivileged rural populations that you dismissively call “yahoos” and “deplorables.” You have mocked our faith and our religion. You have mocked our values and our patriotism. You have trampled our flag and insulted our veterans and treated our first responders with contempt and hatred.

You have made environmentalism your religion, while trashing every city you have taken responsibility for. You scream from the rooftops about “global warming” and a “green new deal” while allowing tens of thousands of homeless people to cover your streets in literal sh!t and garbage and needles and plastic waste without doing a single thing to help them or solve the environmental crisis your failed social policies are creating. But we’re supposed to put YOU in charge of the environment while gutting our entire economy to institute this plan when you can’t even clean up a single city??

You complain — endlessly — yet have failed to solve a single social problem anywhere. In fact, all you have done is create more of them.

We’ve had enough. We are tired of quietly sitting by and being the “silent” majority. So don’t be surprised when the day comes when we finally respond. And trust me it’s coming, sooner than you might think. And also trust me when I say it won’t be pretty. Get ready.

When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because you and your “comrades” have chosen to trash the police, harass law-abiding citizens, and go on rampages destroying public property that we have all paid for and you have zero respect for.

When Donald Trump is reelected it will be because we are sick of your complete and utter nonsense and destruction. How does it feel to know that half of this country finds you FAR more despicable than Donald J. Trump, the man you consider to be the anti-Christ?

Let that sink in.

We consider you to be more despicable, more dangerous, more stupid, and more narcissistic than Donald Trump. Maybe allow yourself a few seconds of self-reflection to let that sink in. This election isn’t about Donald Trump vs. Joe Biden.

This is about Donald Trump vs YOU.

So if on the morning of November 4 (or more likely January 19, by the time the Supreme Court will weigh in on the mail-in ballot fiasco that we are headed towards), and Donald J. Trump is reelected?

The only people you have to blame is the left-wing media drones and yourselves.

You did this.

We don't believe in Wealth Distribution, we work hard for our money, and if anyone else wants to make more, they can too.We don't believe illegals should be taking American's jobs. We don't think everyone should get free this, free that.

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datingintampafails · 4 years

Text

Chapter 15: Aaron*

After Roger*, I don’t completely leave the app game, but I don’t go on any dates. I talk to a couple guys for a short bit, but nothing really sticks. One guy is kind of creepy, and even drops the “love” bomb on me, and I straight up yikes him.

I knew when I matched with Aaron* and saw “Conservative” listed on his Bumble profile, that it was not going to work out. However, I was still coming off my fucking with people state, despite this now being the end of June, almost a month after my last date, that had been with Roger*. However, he is a nice looking, all-American looking man. Blonde hair, blue eyes, decently tall, fit but not overly buff, also does jiu-jitsu, so I say fuck it let’s see what happens.

I even started my first message to him about this: “oh shoot you’re conservative” he asks if that is a problem, which I respond with “depends.” He asks what it depends on, and I say “if you own a maga hat.” He comes back with “Am I in more trouble if I own 2?”

Why would a person need two MAGA hats? I don’t know. This is something I will never know, and I’m okay with that information. He jokes about us both being able to wear one. I say definitely not. He asks why. I explain my DJT sentiments, “He’s constantly running his mouth when he shouldn’t/he has no chill. He’s terrible to women. His interests are biased to benefit businesses/his rich buddies and not the people.”

Expecting him to debate with me with some bullshit, instead, he says I have fair criticism and agrees with my first point. We talk more politics, I say the party system itself sucks, which he admits he thinks we are closer politically than he thought. He purposely changes the subject, with the all wonderful “what are you looking for on here?” question. Blah blah blah.

He said he says I have a good plan and he “matched with [me] cause [I’m] cute and seemed like [I’d] be fun to play some vidya with.” We then talk games and systems for a bit. He asks me for my Snapchat username, then our conversations continue strictly on there for the foreseeable future. He mentions something about feeding his dogs raw chicken, and due to my job working in veterinary medicine, I let him know that isn’t a good idea. He tries to mansplain me, and I clap back, saying that whereas raw red meat is fine for them, raw chicken isn’t and I’ve seen a lot of dogs get sick. He thanks me for the information and drops it. I respect how he backs off and listens.

We set up a date for a Wednesday, but then the day of, I get some news that my coworker I work closely with at one of my jobs, may have contracted coronavirus. I let him know that I don’t want to risk it, just in case I may have gotten it. Instead, I suggest we do a video chat instead.

Video chat actually ends up being pretty fun and is a nice way to get to know each other without going out out. He has two dogs and I get to see them. He mentions that he played World of Warcraft and I’m surprised. He looks more like a pretty boy type and not nerdy like that, despite us talking about other video games previously. I then suggest we play some video games together for the rest of the night. We even add each other on discord/Battlenet (Blizzard Games) and play Heroes of the Storms together. He and I actually work very well as a team and opt to play a character together which requires complete teamwork as you share a body with different powers. It’s a difficult character to play, so normally I don’t play it, even with my friends. This gives me a glimmer of, hey maybe I could make this work: naive.

I decide one day I should ask some non-superficial questions to get to know if the MAGA thing is something I can ignore for better qualities. I ask him about his goals and his future.

He mentions he wants to own a lot of land and grow his own food, have some cows. So basically he wants to be a farmer? Definitely not a life I could see myself in. I mention as well that my future doesn’t involve kids. He says he definitely would want to have kids.

I ask him why he feels the need to have children. He simply says, “Idk it’s just what you do.” TO which, I intelligently let him know, “just because it’s what you do, doesn’t mean it’s what YOU do.” Essentially, fuck societal rules, live your life as your own. He sticks to his guns, which are his rights. I kinda just remove myself from the conversation as it doesn’t go anywhere.

At the same time, I’m also chatting with another guy. This guy is way more compatible personality-wise, but he isn’t really physically attractive to me. I feel bad as I am practically stringing him along. I even had a video chat date with him around the same time as Aaron*, but whereas he is nice, I don’t see him as a romantic prospect, which makes me more confused.

Despite our conversation that would seem like an end-all for the relationship continuing, Aaron* continues to send me Snapchats, which are nice eye candy. He goes to the gym and would send me pictures of him in the sauna, ie shirtless pictures. He asks me out again, and I confirm that he is still interested. He asks fairly if he has indicated in any way that he was no longer interested. Also adds he wants to see where things go and at least give it a shot and is willing to risk the possibility of my coronavirus exposure. Fair enough.

We reschedule essentially the date we were gonna have earlier that week, going to the same Greek restaurant. I get there first and wait in my car. Somehow I am not paying attention when he arrives, and he says he is there but doesn’t see me inside. So I walk up to him in the restaurant and give him a hug. He is the only one there, so it is easy to spot him. We share a platter of hummus and veggies, just talk, and have a good time. I get a sense, as I did during the video chat as well, that he is more introverted than I am and on the quieter side. The restaurant is closing for the day, and we are done eating, so we head out. Walking to our cars, he asks if I wanna come over and meet his dogs since he lives ten minutes away. I agree.

I half follow google maps with the address he gives me, half just follow him. Jokingly when we arrive and we start to walk in, I ask him if he’s going to murder me. He laughs and says no. As I add “not this time at least.”

I get to meet his dogs, one is definitely a wild child. We play Super Smash Bros on his Switch, and after only winning one round and getting obliterated otherwise, I ask if we can play something more co-op. We bring out Mario Party but are kind of confused about how anything works. Instead, we opt to just watch a movie instead. We cuddle and watch Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

At the end of the movie, it is late and I say that I’m gonna head out. He walks me to our car and we kiss goodnight a couple of times. Unfortunately for me, I was happy to kiss him goodnight. I do ask him that he actually give me his number, though he had given me a similar story like Darren*, saying his service isn’t good and he chats primarily via Snapchat.

We talk some more and set up another date. I invite him over for dinner. When he arrives he tries to kiss me at his car side when I greet him which catches me off guard. I’m not huge into PDA so I don’t really know what to do. He seems fine when I instead give him a kiss hello when we get inside. I make the food and all seems good. He gets along with my dog very well and they’re having fun. We eat our food then decide to go to the couch to watch a movie. We settle on Toy Story 4 as I determine that he should see it since he hasn’t. During the movie, he initiates kissing a few times. At some point though, it gets a little more heated as kissing becomes a true makeout session, and he lays me down on the couch. His kisses are a little more hungry, and honestly, I’m not super into his style and feel more like I’m just kind of there. I stop him and say “can w talk about something really quick?” I can tell that he is trying to lead up to things, and given the fact that we are on very different paths for the future, though it would be a good time to discuss where we are at. I pause the movie officially. I say I like him and ask him what his realistic expectations for us would be. He says that given our opposite feelings towards children, that “well we wouldn’t get married, but I definitely want whatever is the next step under that. Until I’m ready for something more serious with a person that would want kids” I simply respond that I am looking for something that would be potentially more serious, and don’t think we want the same things. I make a joke about him not wanting to get married, and that I already have the venue picked out, Sabrina has a flower girl dress, etc. Just to lighten the mood. He laughs and we continue watching the movies.

At the end of the movie he again initiates kissing me. I’m confused, I thought we had essentially ended whatever was going on via our conversation. He then just asks me, “hey would you want to fool around a little before I leave?” Again, given the conversation we had just had, I don’t think this man really understands where I am at. “No, I don’t really wanna do that now,” I say to him. We watch some short skits and then I say it’s probably time for him to go. I ask that he lets me know when he gets back home.

We video game together a couple more times, he sends me more shirtless pics, I just kind of ignore him/don’t respond as much, as especially after his reaction of trying to sleep with me, I am officially no longer interested.

We went from #1 best Snapchat friends with a 12-day streak to nada, but oh well. He still looks at my stories sometimes but never initiates contact. I wish him the best and hope he gets what he wants.

#bumble #tampabay #dating #tampa #stpete #clearwater #florida

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