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babytortie · 4 years ago

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baby birds

baby birds. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

summary: in which stanley finally breaks and distances himself from the loser’s group. the reader finds him alone and helps him cope to feel better.

warning: lots of fluff. <3

contains: slight mentioning of insecurities.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 15 years old in this one-shot.

~ 2.4k words.

it's been a couple of days since stanley showed up at the loser's clubhouse and the group was getting anxious. the curly haired teen always showed up after school when the group wanted to hang out. recently, he's made excuses for the past three times they've all hung out though.

"where's stan the man at?" mike broke the silence, uncrossing his legs and getting up from the couch to sit by bill instead. previously, he had been sitting with y/n and beverly. somehow but not before banging it around a few times and ben having to fix the walls, they managed to get the couch inside one weekend.

it was a hand-me down from the denbrough's garage. only deemed safe and clean after eddie tore it apart. the cushions and pillows were shampooed, as well as, a finishing touch of spray downs with two cans of lysol.

"maybe ed's mom is cheating on me and he's with her right now?" richie snickered, glancing up at the others from the hammock to see all of them unamused and letting out groans.

in his hand was the newest comic and for the past couple of minutes he'd been browsing through it. although, the tozier teen was not completely paying attention since he was mesmerized with eddie's face. the sunlight peeked through the wooden cracks and all of the asthmatic boy's freckles dusted perfectly along his skin.

the shorter boy was talking with bill who sat a few feet away from them and overheard the lanky boy's comment through mid-conversation. in return, he leaned over from the other side of the hammock and smacked richie's arm. "don't call me eds! how many times do i have to tell you that? also, i already have a nick name and it's eddie."

he swatted eddie's arm away and of course dramatically rubbed his arm a few times. with another occasional adjustment made to his coke-bottle glasses, richie pouted and put his arms up in exaggeration. "oh right sorry about that eddie spaghetti. but i don't know then. y/n?" he asked, automatically assuming you had answers about the curly haired teenager’s whereabouts.

beverly was in the middle of braiding y/n's hair and rolled her eyes. she let go of your strands and quickly smoothed them out. this was making you able to turn face-forward instead of the current side-ways position on the couch that you now only shared with her.

before reacting to the richie's remark, you gave beverly a sympathetic smile. an awfully long minute went by before you finally acknowledged tozier. he was still cackling though and everyone, including you, could tell it was full of nervousness.

"seriously, richie? i've talked to stanley just as much as the rest of you the last couple of days." you stated with a glare then shrugged before leaning back against the couch cushions.

"y-yeah, just bec-cause y/n and stan a-are love b-birds doesn't m-mean they keep tab-bs on each other all t-the time. ri-ight guys?" bill smirked.

beverly immediately put a hand over her mouth to contain the giggles threatening to spill out. she risked her luck and turned to gaze in your direction but you were already taking note of this with an eyebrow raised.

"are you alright there, beverly?" ben asked out of concern. because of her skin complexion, her face was easily able to turn bright red. he hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation with being zoned out into another good story. hanscom's face had been happily stuffed into an interesting book from the library.

"i'm sorry! sorry, it's just stanley and birds. good one bill!" she stumbled over her words from laughter. after a moment of hearing beverly and richie snickering together, like they were high, the others couldn't help but start hollering and whistling too.

"yep, laugh it up. glad to be of service for the jokes of today." shouting playfully which only caused a channeling of an inner-richie. you grabbed the couch arm for balance and stood up. they watched as you bowed twice then sat back down like the tozier teen would have been doing if he were the one in this situation.

the group would always tease you and stan. this causing the both of you to always blush in result and look anywhere in the room but each other while full of embarrassment.

the crazy thing was that what they said was true. neither of you wanted to admit first though and it was just another daily topic for the group. the other six members wished one of you would just open up and discuss the feelings you two bottled inside. no use still and after months of teasing, you nor stanley backed down yet.

"does anybody know where he'd be at right now?" mike paused to take a glimpse at his watch then added, "at four-thirty? he wouldn't go home so soon yet with his dad being off today."

the group was silent, none knew and the fact you and stan had a secret spot was not common shared information either. you contemplated for a moment before thinking what the hell? and just spoke up with a reply before you could take it back. "yeah, in fact i do. i'll see you guys later."

to avoid their stares, you didn't dare catching their reactions. instead taking that time to lean over the side of the couch and grab your backpack from school, lazily putting the straps around your shoulders.

"see, what'd i tell you?" richie smirked, leaning over in the hammock towards bill for a high five who did not return it but had a grin of his own. ben placed a bookmark into the open pages to mark the spot he left off on. after this, he gave beverly a look. this expression was one similar eddie was giving to mike.

"see you later guys!" you bid farewell once more and climbed the clubhouse stairs to venture off. you stifled a chuckle as you started to walk away, hearing them all burst out mixed comments of confusion and excitement.

about thirty minutes of walking later, you reached the woods surrounding the quarry. there was a ridge in the rocks off to the side which lead to a path. one wouldn't notice it from afar without really inspecting the vicinity.

it was about half a mile and stan was usually there with a towel laid out and his back against one of the trees. a perfect crease-free bird book splayed out on top of his lap and a pair of binoculars in the teen's hands.

recently if stanley were home he'd be in his room. with a lock on his door, he laid while reading books front to back and cover to cover. which was probably what he did last night except, the perfectionist took his sweet ol' time. this was to memorize every picture of the birds and the facts about them that was printed across the crisp pages.

before doing anything, you adjusted the long sleeves of the black and white flannel tied around your waist. your chucks nervously toed in the dirt gravel and you let out a deep breath you hadn't realized you were holding. curiously studying stan after that and noticing your prediction wasn’t far off. it was actually almost spot on except the book was nowhere to be found.

"this seat taken?" you asked, pointing towards the empty spot on the towel next to him. the uris teen jumped a bit, probably zoned out on a bird that was perched on the branch a few trees away from where you and stan were.

he looked over to you, a smile gracing his face. "it is now." uris was never bothered by the fact you often crashed the private bird-watching hobby of his. you knew he enjoyed quiet time in complete silence besides the occasional birds chirping. this was how it was found out that you had taken a liking to often just sitting and relaxing with your favorite person.

you started to move quickly by placing your backpack down before either of you could change his mind. with your hands placed on the back of your tied flannel, you crouched down before finding a comfortable position to sit in. then reaching into the bag, you retrieved the water bottle to take a sip.

after putting it back away, you sneaked a peek at him and saw that he was already watching you. your face flushed and you quickly faced away. not wanting to make a big deal of it, you started a conversation instead.

"you ready to talk yet?" you questioned, not wanting to push him but had already gave him a few minutes to gather his thoughts. he was an over-thinker. you knew him so well that almost all of the time, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

he watched the bird in the binoculars once more. admiring the red and orange colorful feathers before setting it down on the other side of him. letting out a loud sigh, he pondered. "i don't know y/n. am i a disappointment to you?"

stan? stanley uris? you opened your mouth and closed it again quite speechless with disbelief. disappointment? why would the person who you think is the definition of perfect think that he is a disappointment?"

“no way bubs! never." you stated in the most serious tone you've ever used to reassure him. looking into his brown eyes you noticed a few golden flecks that always caught in the sunlight. stan was a beautiful person inside and out but y/n hoped that he knew that.

"are you sure?" he asked, sheepishly and glanced down at his hands. if stanley couldn’t look you directly into the eyes, there was definitely something wrong. you took this as a chance to open up some feelings of your own and grabbed his left hand with your right, interlocking the fingers.

his breath hitched at the sight and he observed your hands together. a pair that fit perfectly and he felt his heart skip a beat at the thought. being as you were still confused, he took this as an appropriate moment to peer up at your face but he caught your eye again instead.

stan felt tears forming in the back of his eyes. figuring he should just tell you sooner or later, he let you know. "uh, so ever since the bar mitzvah, my dad and i have been distant. i just feel like i’m his disgraced son and a failure all the time."

he half-whispered the whole thing. inside he was feeling so ashamed that he told you this with such a sad tone full of dejection. this was shocking, making you completely quiet for a few moments to process the explanation. the tears had won, prickling and slowly starting to glaze over his eyes. your heart was breaking into pieces at the sight.

"it's been like almost two years though? maybe he doesn't know how to go about the situation. you should just get to the bottom of it and confront him tomorrow stanny." suggesting with a soft smile on your lips.

“i don’t know about that y/n, but thanks.” he chuckled, subtly glancing at your lips before clearing his throat and looking away again. while he watched the area, you rested into the crook of his neck. on the towel between the two of you was your right hand still intertwined with his. your eyes flickered up to scan the tree trunks. you gasped loudly at the sight above and patted stanley’s arm to grab his attention.

the two of you watched the branches above closely, your fingers squeezing his tightly while watching in awe. a bird’s nest was leaned up against the trunk of tree. you and stanley sat in silence to witness it. being as it was so quiet now, the only sounds that could be heard were little chirps coming from it.

“is that baby birds?” you whispered excitedly. rubbing over his thumb with yours. he watched how your face softened in awe. truly appreciating that you enjoyed when he shared this specific hobby with you.

his eyes widened when he finally realized the feeling in his stomach. butterflies. probably a whole zoo full of them. that was how much he liked, no, loved you. he shook his head and snickered at the fact you had the decency to talk quietly. “no need to whisper, y/n/n. we’ve been talking out loud this whole time. so, they won’t leave.”

you giggled; a sound that made him feel all mushy inside. stan loved your laugh and knew that if you asked him to do anything right now that he would in fact do it. smoothly letting go of your hand, he moved it rub your shoulder in comfort.

this was until you felt him slowly replacing the position of his fingers and they were repositioned underneath your chin. tilting your head upwards gently, he whispered softly now. it was almost as if he was scared that if he raised his voice to much, it would ruin the moment. “is this okay?”

the curly haired boy looked into your eyes for reassurance and you stumbled over a response by his sudden rush of confidence. lost in shock by his brown and golden flecked eyes, all you could get out was chopped, raspy response. “of course, bubs.”

stanley leaned in slowly, still a bit afraid you would change your mind. proving him wrong you quickly followed to meet him halfway. his lips finally brushed against yours and you felt his hand rub along your cheek with such delicacy. you scooted closer so you could easily put your hand in stan’s hair and massage his curls. he let out a small moan and smiled into the kiss.

before he pulled away slightly to let the two of you breathe, he rubbed your cheek once more. you kissed both corners of his lips and then his nose. a sweet laugh falling from his lips at the gestures.

you grabbed his hand again, playfully sizing them together and he watched. casually asking, “so do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“of course, i’d love to stanny!” grinning you leaned in to peck his lips once more but it turned into a small passionate kiss instead. after you both pulled away again, he questioned with a smirk. “should we tell the others, babylove?”

you let out a small hum, as if you were thinking of an answer. though, you broke the act with a smirk. one that he caught and snickered already knowing how this was going to go.

it wasn’t a hard decision, seeing as you felt like returning a little pay back of your own from all of the teasing. so, your response was simple. “nope. let’s see how long it takes for them to figure it out.”

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shewhoworshipscarlin · 4 years ago

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Tim Moore

Tim Moore (December 9, 1887 – December 13, 1958) was an American vaudevillian and comic actor of the first half of the 20th century. He gained his greatest recognition in the starring role of George "Kingfish" Stevens in the CBS TV's The Amos 'n' Andy Show. He proudly stated, "I've made it a point never to tell a joke on stage that I couldn't tell in front of my mother."

Moore was born Harry Roscoe Moore in Rock Island, Illinois, one of 13 children of Harry and Cynthia Moore. His father was a night watchman at a brewery. Tim Moore dropped out of grammar school to work at odd jobs in town and even danced for pennies in the streets with his friend, Romeo Washburn.

In 1898, Moore and Washburn went into vaudeville in an act called "Cora Miskel and Her Gold Dust Twins." It was booked by agents and traveled through the United States and even Great Britain. As Moore and Washburn grew older, the act became less effective and Miss Miskel sent them back to their parents in Rock Island. Shortly after this, Moore joined the medicine show of "Doctor Mick" (Charles S. Mick), who sold a patented quack remedy called Pru-ri-ta. Doctor Mick travelled through the Midwestern states, with songs and dances provided by Moore and four Kickapoo Indians. The young man also worked in a carnival sideshow and gave guided tours as a "native" tour guide in Hawaii.

Moore left Doctor Mick, first to become a stable boy and later a jockey. He also tried his hand as a professional boxer under the name "Young Klondike" in 1905, and found it lucrative. He returned to performing in 1908, with a troupe of minstrels called "The Rabbit's Foot Company." By 1909, he was back in vaudeville and had met and married his first wife, Hester. They performed as a team, "The Moores - Tim & Hester", appearing in the United States and abroad. In 1910, the couple was part of an act called the Four Moores. By 1914, both Moores were co-stars of an act that was billed as Tim Moore and Tom Delaney & Co. The couple toured China, Japan, Australia, New Zealand, the Fiji Islands and Hawaii with a vaudeville troupe. The marriage ended in divorce in 1915, and in September, Moore married a vaudeville actress named Gertrude Brown. After more than a year on the road in vaudeville in the United States, the Hawaiian Islands, Australia and New Zealand, he returned to boxing once more as "Young Klondike", training in New Zealand. He fought there and in Australia, England, and Scotland. Before this, Moore fought as "Young Klondike" in the US, with Jack Johnson and Sam Langford as some of his opponents. Moore also made his way into films by 1915, playing the part of an egotistical musician in His Inspiration.

Moore became well known for his one-man presentation of Uncle Tom's Cabin, where he would play the role of both Simon Legree and Uncle Tom, applying white chalk to half his face, and burnt cork to the other. Moore literally took his one man act into the street of San Jose, California, for the sale of War Stamps in 1918.

n 1923, Moore and his wife co-starred with Sandy Burns, Fannetta Burns, Walter Long, and Bobby Smart in a silent film comedy, His Great Chance, directed by Ben Strasser (North State Film Corp.) The following year, the Moores toured vaudeville together in "Aces and Queens". Subsequently, he went on tour as one of the stars of producer Edward E. Daley's "black and white musical comedy sensation", Rarin' to Go, for three seasons on the Columbia Burlesque Wheel (1925, 1926 and 1927 editions).

In 1928, Moore took time off from his vaudeville bookings to try his luck once more on the Great White Way – Broadway. This time he met with enormous success as the star comedian of Lew Leslie's hit musical comedy revue, the Blackbirds of 1928. Moore's co-stars were singers Adelaide Hall and Aida Ward and renowned tap dancer Bill "Bojangles" Robinson. The hit musical scored high in Paris and London as well as on the road throughout the states. In 1931, Moore and his then vaudeville straight man at the Alhambra, Andrew Tribble, performed one of their funniest routines in Oscar Micheaux's first talking picture, The Darktown Revue.

At the time the troupe was booked in 1936 in the United Kingdom, King Edward VIII had just abdicated the British throne for love of American Wallis Simpson. There was a wave of anti-Americanism, with women picketing performances of the Blackbirds, carrying signs disparaging American women. Yet the next season saw the return of the revue as Blackbirds of 1937, its last edition in England. Two years later, on Broadway, Lew Leslie presented the last edition of the Blackbirds (1939); the principal singing star was Lena Horne. Moore's last Broadway show was Harlem Cavalcade (1942), produced by Ed Sullivan and Noble Sissle. During the late 1930s and early 1940s, Moore was one of the top comedians headlining at the Apollo Theater in Harlem. He also performed on radio as a dramatic actor.

In 1948, CBS hired Flournoy Miller as a casting advisor for the planned Amos 'n' Andy TV series. They had failed to locate Tim Moore for the role of George "Kingfish" Stevens, a role which was created and voiced on radio by white actor Freeman Gosden. It was Miller's job to trace the actor's whereabouts. Meanwhile, in January 1950, Moore went to New York to perform at the Apollo and appear as guest star on CBS-TV's Toast of the Town. After fulfilling these engagements, Moore returned to Rock Island. A few months later, Flournoy Miller called the manager of the Apollo and finally received Moore's address. Moore did voice tests at CBS radio studios in Peoria and Chicago, and then was brought to CBS-TV in Hollywood for a screen test. He returned to Rock Island. Shortly after this, he was signed by Columbia Broadcasting System to star in a new television adaptation of Amos 'n' Andy. As the radio series had developed in prior years, the scheming but henpecked Kingfish had become the central focus of most of the plots. In the television version, Moore played the character more broadly, with louder and more forceful delivery and a distinctive Georgia drawl, exaggerated for comic effect. Moore's Kingfish dominated the calmer and soft-spoken "Amos 'n' Andy" characters. Early in his career, Moore had developed a "con-man" routine he used for many years while in vaudeville; re-working some aspects of his old act produced the television character Kingfish.

Moore was very popular in the show and for the first time in his career became a national celebrity as well as the first African American to win stardom on television. When leaving a train in Albuquerque to buy some Native American pottery, the proprietor recognized him immediately, saying, "You, you Kingfish." This was the first time it happened in Moore's 52 years in show business. The show aired on prime-time TV from June 1951 to June 1953. Although quite popular, the series was eventually canceled due to complaints about ethnic stereotyping. Shortly after the television show left the air, there were plans to turn it into a vaudeville act in August 1953, with Moore, Williams, and Childress playing the same characters. After the series was canceled, it was shown in syndication until 1966 when increasing condemnation and pressure from the NAACP persuaded the show's owners (CBS, which still owns the copyrights) to withdraw it from further exhibition. It was resurrected in the early days of home videotape through public domain video dealers who had acquired episodes from collectors of used 16mm TV prints, although the copyright was never in the public domain. Illegally produced copies continue to be sold over the internet. The series itself would not be seen on a regular basis again until independent network Rejoice TV began re-airing episodes in 2012.

Moore married his last wife Vivian Cravens (1912–1988) eight months after Benzonia's death; Moore fired a gunshot in his home because of his "mooching in-laws" (stepson, stepdaughter, and her husband) when he found that the last of the New Year's roast beef had been eaten by them. Moore related, "These free-loaders have eaten everything in the house. My wife protects them and every time we talk about it, we get into an argument. The argument got a little loud and the next thing I knew, the big boy (his stepson Hubbard) jumped out of his chair. I ran upstairs and got out my old pistol. I didn't want to hit anybody."

When the police arrived at the home, Moore, pistol still in his belt, told them, "I'm the old Kingfish, boys. I'm the one you want. I fired that shot. I didn't want to hit anyone, although I could have. Anyway, you should have seen the in-laws scatter when I fired that gun." The shot Moore fired hit the china cabinet; he was arrested and charged with assault with a deadly weapon, with police calling him the "funniest prisoner in police history." Moore was initially ordered held on $1,000 bond; the judge changed his mind and released Moore on his own recognizance. Tim and his wife reconciled, with Vivian's pleading for the charges to be dropped. Moore entered a not guilty plea before the case went to trial on March 24. He received a $100 fine and a year's probation as his sentence.

Because of the "Roast Beef Scandal," Moore was once more in demand and even received a testimonial tribute dinner from the Friars Club of Beverly Hills, and appearing on The Tonight Show with Jack Paar. The publicity also won him an extended performance engagement at the legendary Mocambo nightclub.

Moore died at age 71 on December 13, 1958 of pulmonary tuberculosis in Los Angeles, four days after his birthday. There was no money to pay for his hospital care or for his funeral, Moore having received his final $65.00 residual payment from Amos 'n' Andy in January 1958. At one time, Moore had made $700 per week.

After a large funeral at Mt. Sinai Baptist Church, he was buried at Rosedale Cemetery. At the funeral service, 10,000 fans and mourners passed his open coffin; attendance was star-studded and included Groucho Marx, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Louis Armstrong, Tony Curtis, Sidney Poitier, Charlie Barnet, Noble Sissle, Erskine Hawkins, Louis Prima, Freeman F. Gosden, Charles Correll, Spencer Williams, Jr., Alvin Childress, Ernestine Wade, Amanda Randolph, Johnny Lee, Lillian Randolph, Sammy Davis, Jr., Eddie "Rochester" Anderson, Andy Razaf, Clarence Muse, Roy Glenn, Mantan Moreland, Pigmeat Markham, Willie Bryant, Earl Grant. Sammy Davis, Jr. later related that Frank Sinatra organized the effort to pay Tim Moore's funeral expenses. Moore's grave remained unmarked from the time of his burial until 1983; fellow comedians Redd Foxx and George Kirby raised funds for a headstone. There is now one marking the graves of Moore and his wife, Vivian, who died in 1988.

In spite of his achievement as the first major African American television star, Moore is still not honored with a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tim_Moore_(comedian)

#black history month #actor #vaudeville

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dweemeister · 4 years ago

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The Daydreamer (1966)

By the 1960s, Christmas television specials were in vogue in the United States. Yet this recent phenomenon had yet to yield a true cultural touchstone. On December 6, 1964, the first Christmas special mainstay aired on NBC. Produced by a fledgling animation studio, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer put Rankin/Bass, named after co-founders Arthur Rankin, Jr. and Jules Bass, into the public consciousness. Rankin/Bass’ brand of stop-motion animation (“Animagic”) was mostly outsourced to Japanese studio MOM Productions in Tokyo, under the direction of Tadahito Mochinaga. With the windfall of Rudolph, Rankin/Bass and MOM Productions delved into the realm of feature theatrical films. This review concerns their second feature film, The Daydreamer – a stop motion animation/live-action hybrid based on Hans Christian Andersen’s stories. The Daydreamer has starpower in its cast that no Rankin/Bass production had yet matched. But as one might expect from a Rankin/Bass film, there are narrative flaws abound. The Daydreamer, episodic in nature and alternating between live-action and animation scenes, suffers due to the inconsistent quality of the handful of Hans Christian Andersen adaptations it has and the kitschy live-action acting.

The young Hans Christian Andersen (“Chris”; Paul O’Keefe) is the son of a cobbler (Jack Gilford). Papa Andersen often has to face the verbal tirades of frequent customer Mrs. Klopplebobbler (Margaret Hamilton; it is difficult not to think of Hamilton’s portrayal of the Wicked Witch here). His struggling business often means he cannot pay the gangling Pie Man (Ray Bolger; yet another Wizard of Oz star). To take him away from these troubles, Chris will let his imagine run wild while napping. If he can only just find the mythical Garden of Paradise, all these troubles might vanish. One evening, the Sandman (voiced by Cyril Ritchard) promises him to guide him there. Along the way, Chris is subject to dreams that may seem familiar to the viewer. These dreams shift away from live-action into the signature Rankin/Bass animation – adapting “The Little Mermaid”, “The Emperor’s New Clothes”*, “Thumbelina”, and “The Garden of Paradise”. Elements of “The Ugly Duckling” and “Little Claus and Big Claus” also appear.

Among the many voice actors during these animation sequences are Hayley Mills (The Little Mermaid); Burl Ives (Neptune – I have never heard Ives’ voice so devoid of jaunt before); Tallulah Bankhead (the sea witch); Terry-Thomas (the first tailor); Victor Borge (the second tailor); Ed Wynn (the Emperor); Patty Duke (Thumbelina); and Boris Karloff (the Rat).

The film’s adaptations of Andersen’s tales differ in that Andersen himself becomes a character in each of the stories. The Daydreamer approaches the stories as if the ideas are only just forming in the young Chris’ head, to be written and published when he is an adult. Within these dreams-someday-to-be-stories, Chris is largely a passive character. He takes instruction from the central figures of his future tales, never really asserting himself or asking basic questions about the misadventures he goes through. Chris acts as if lost in his own imagination – which fits the conceit of the film. So when he awakens into the real world, the film’s pacing slams the brakes. In the real world, everyone except Chris is a caricature, somehow less realistic than the individuals appearing in the daydreams. The transitions between animation and live-action will take the viewer out of the film because of the unceasing manic acting in the latter, as opposed to the charming puppetry of the former. As such, The Daydreamer’s weaknesses lie almost entirely with the live-action scenes – too consciously playing to the audience and over-the-top in their absurdity.

In an era of American animation defined by Disney on the screen and Hanna-Barbera on television, Rankin/Bass carves out its own niche in how it tells its stories. The meta humor and fourth wall breaking of Hanna-Barbera’s works (a legacy of the duo’s work at MGM) makes no appearances here. Disney’s clean-cut fairytale endings also do not apply. The Daydreamer’s adaptation of “The Little Mermaid” does not have the gruesome premise as Andersen’s original fairytale, but it retains the ending’s heartbreak. There appears to be no alterations to “The Emperor’s New Clothes” – which includes Chris, but he just feels superfluous to the plot and to the tale’s keen comedy. Each of the film’s segments bring Chris closer to the final animated sequence, “The Garden of Paradise”. The adaptation of that tale sanitizes its deathly overtures for a devil-like creature, but keeps the ambiguous, open-ended conclusion. By maintaining the original conclusion, “The Garden of Paradise” is a curious coda for The Daydreamer – a film that ends as abruptly as its several transitions, like a daydream.

The Daydreamer’s live-action sets benefit, however, due to the fact many of its scenes were shot at the 1964 New York World’s Fair. The World’s Fair pavilions used in this film mimic a feel of small-town, nineteenth century Europe more realistically than a Hollywood soundstage might. The production design for the animated dream sequences, too, are mesmerizing. Perhaps this is best exemplified in “The Little Mermaid”. There, the special effects work make it appear as if the whole sequence was shot underwater, rather than a room that contained blue lights streaming into Neptune’s palace. Where are the strings and wires suspending the puppets in mid-air while they “swim”? To the animators’ credit, there are none to be found. Neptune’s palace is one of the grander sets constructed for a Rankin/Bass production; its imposing walls and generous empty spaces reflect a sense of regal grandeur. That royal otherworldliness does not extend to “The Emperor’s New Clothes”, but many of the same production design decisions carry over. Rankin/Bass and MOM Productions are obviously working with more money and manpower for these animated scenes than in the likes of Rudolph or their many holiday television specials. The sense of scale and grandiosity seen here in The Daydreamer and Mad Monster Party? (1967) would rarely, if ever, be replicated for television. And it is also obvious that the filmmakers put the money into the animation and for paying headline-worthy actors, rather than for any writers able to string the animated and live-action halves together.

Seven songs comprise The Daydreamer’s musical soundtrack. Composed by Maury Laws and Jules Bass, most of the songs are forgettable once your viewing is done (including Robert Goulet singing the title song over the opening credits, despite the fact I admire Goulet’s voice). But there are notable exceptions. Sung by Hayley Mills at the end of “The Little Mermaid”, “Wishes and Teardrops” brings the segment to a worthy close. Her loved ignored, the Little Mermaid sings this lament – backed with percussion straight from a ‘60s love ballad and timeless swelling strings – for herself:

Wishes and teardrops Won’t make him love me. He’s gone and he’ll never return. Does he know how teardrops can burn, When they fall for a wish That can never come true?

In the film’s final third, “Luck to Sell” injects a jolt of energy sorely missing from many of the other live-action scenes. The song itself is simple and the singing just avoids being flat, but when paired with the energetic choreography from Paul O’Keefe and company, it elevates itself from the rest of the soundtrack (save “Wishes and Teardrops”).

Not often will a viewer encounter a film with two sets of opening credits. I’m not writing about films that have an overture that transition to opening credits (an entirely different approach that modern filmmakers should utilize more), but two sets of opening credits that list the names of the actors involved. For the first set of credits, caricaturist Al Hirschfeld (uncredited) was hired to draw caricatures of the various actors and actresses appearing in, or lending their voices to, The Daydreamer. The Daydreamer is the second of three films that Hirschfeld was involved in. The first, appearing as himself uncredited, was in Main Street to Broadway (1953); his third and final film was as an artistic consultant on the “Rhapsody in Blue” segment (which was influenced by his caricatures) in Fantasia 2000.

Rankin/Bass’ ventures into feature film animation peaked several months later with Mad Monster Party? After that and the unfortunate production of The Wacky World of Mother Goose (1967; a traditionally animated eyesore), Rankin/Bass almost completely dedicated itself to its animated television specials. The Daydreamer, distributed by the now-defunct Embassy Pictures and currently owned by Sony Pictures Television (the ownership of the rights to Rankin/Bass’ features are exasperatingly scattered), has not been widely seen when compared to Mad Monster Party?, let alone Rankin/Bass’ television specials. If one can find a serviceable print of The Daydreamer, the viewing experience will be a valuable glimpse into the studio’s collaboration with MOM Productions. A Rankin/Bass fan that has only known the studio through its television specials will see their work operating with higher production values; Rankin/Bass novices can experience a dimension of animated filmmaking too often considered an afterthought.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found in the “Ratings system” page on my blog (as of July 1, 2020, tumblr is not permitting certain posts with links to appear on tag pages, so I cannot provide the URL).

For more of my reviews tagged “My Movie Odyssey”, check out the tag of the same name on my blog.

* “The Emperor’s New Clothes” was adapted twice by Rankin/Bass. The second adaptation is the heart of the television special The Enchanted World of Danny Kaye (1972), starring Danny Kaye. That adaptation of “The Emperor’s New Clothes” is distinct from the one that appears in The Daydreamer. The Danny Kaye special’s adaptation has a more developed storyline, completely different voice cast, and completely different soundtrack.

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logophiladelphia-blog · 3 years ago

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hellomynameisbisexual · 4 years ago

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I’d go so far as to say that the nomination probably saved the site, in fact. For those who need a little background: despite being a small voluntary project the site was nominated for the 2014 Publication of the Year award by Stonewall, the UK’s largest LGBT charity, just nine months after its inception. This was a landmark step in Stonewall’s positive new direction on bi issues. To the best of my knowledge, this was the first time Stonewall had specifically nominated a specifically bi publication or organisation for an award. At this point my co-founder, who was taking care of the business side of things, had recently jumped ship and I was seriously considering packing the whole thing in. I won’t lie, I was astonished to read the email.

I’d worked on a publication which won the award under my editorship a few years previously. Unlike Biscuit, however, g3 magazine – at the time one of the two leading print mags for lesbian and bi women in the UK – had an estimated readership of 140,000, had been going for eight years and boasted full-time paid office staff and regular paid freelancers. Biscuit, by contrast, was being dragged along by one weary unpaid editor and a bunch of unpaid writers who understandably, for the most part, couldn’t commit to regularly submitting work.

Little Biscuit’s enormous competition for the award consisted of Buzzfeed, Attitude.co.uk, iNewspaper and Property Week. We didn’t win – that accolade went to iNewspaper – but the nomination was nevertheless, as I say, a huge catalyst to continue with the site. I launched a crowdfunder, which finished way off target. I sold one ad space, for two months. Then nothing. I attempted in vain to recruit a sales manager but nobody wanted to work on commission. Some wonderful writers came and went. There were periods of tumbleweed when I frantically had to fill the site with my own writing, thereby completely defeating the object of providing a platform for a wide range of bi voices.

The Stonewall Award nomination persuaded me to keep going with the site

The departure of the webmaster was another blow. Thankfully by this point I had a co-editor on board – the amazing Libby – so I was persuaded to stick with it. And here we are now. I don’t actually know where the next article is coming from. That’s not a good feeling. But, apart from for Biscuit, I try not to write for free anymore myself, so I understand exactly why that is. As a freelance journo trying to make a living I’ve had to be strict with myself about that. I regularly post on the “Stop Working For Free” Facebook group and often feel a pang of misplaced guilt because I ask my writers to write for free, even though I’m working on the site for free myself, and losing valuable time I could be spending on looking for paid work.

Biscuit hasn’t exactly been a stranger to controversy, in addition to its financial and staffing issues. Its original tagline – “for girls who like girls and boys” – was considered cis-centric by some, leading to accusations that the site had some kind of trans/genderqueer*-phobic agenda. Which was amusing, as at the height of this a) we’d just had two articles about non-binary issues published and b) I was actually engaged to a genderqueer partner, a fact they were clearly unaware of. Now the site is under fire from various pansexual activists who object to the term “bisexual”. To clarify – “girl and boys” was supposed to imply a spectrum and, no, we don’t think “bi” applies only to an attraction to binary folk. The site aims the main part of its content at female-spectrum readers attracted to more than one gender because this group does have specific needs. But there is something here for EVERYONE bisexual. Anyway, it’s a shame all of this gossip was relayed secondhand, and the people in question didn’t think to confront me about it (which at least the pan activists have bothered to do). We damage our community immeasurably with these kinds of Chinese whispers.

Biscuit ed Libby, being amazing

Whilst trying to keep the site afloat, I’ve also been building on the work I started right back when I edited g3, and trying to improve bi visibility in other media outlets. I’ve recently had articles published by Cosmopolitan, SheWired, The F-Word, GayStar News and Women Make Waves and I’m constantly emailing other sites which I’ve not yet written for with bi pitches. Unfortunately, although I am over the moon to be writing for mainstream outlets such as Cosmo about bi issues, it’s been an uphill struggle trying to persuade some editors out there that they have more readers to whom bi-interest stories apply than they might think. It’s an incredibly exhausting and frustrating process.

Libby and I are doing our best with Biscuit. I can’t guarantee that I would be doing anything at all with it if Libby hadn’t arrived on the scene, so once again I would like to mention how fabulous she is. But we desperately need more writers. We need some help with site design and tech issues. We need a hand with the business and sales side of things. We can’t do it without you. And if you know any rich bisexual heiresses who read Biscuit, please do send them our way. 😉

Grant Denkinson’s story

denkinsonpanel

Grant speaks on a panel chaired by Biscuit’s Lottie at a Bi Visibility Day event

So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in.  

“I’ve been involved with bisexual community organising for a bit over 20 years. Some has been within community: writing for and editing our national newsletter, organising events for bisexuals and helping others with their events by running workshop sessions or offering services such as 1st aid. I’ve spoken to the media about bisexuality and organised bi contingents at LGBT Pride events (sometimes just me in a bi T-shirt!). I’ve helped organise and participated in bi activist weekends and trainings. I’ve help train professionals about bisexuality. I’ve also piped up about bisexuality a lot when organising within wider LGBT and gender and sexuality and relationship diversity umbrellas. I’ve been a supportive bi person on-line and in person for other bi folks. I’ve been out and visibly bi for some time. I’ve helped fund bi activists to meet, publish and travel. I’ve funded advertising for bi events. I’ve set up companies and charities for or including bi people. I’ve personally supported other bi activists.”

 What made you get involved?

“ In some ways I was looking for a way to be outside the norm and to make a difference and coming out as bi gave me something to push against. I’ve been less down on myself when feeling attacked. I’ve also found the bi community very welcoming and where I can be myself and so wanted to organise with friends and to give others a similar experience. There weren’t too many others already doing everything better than I could.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“There have been great changes for same-sex attracted people legally and socially and these have happened quickly. Bi people have been involved with making that happen and benefit from it. We can also be hidden by gay advances or actively erased. We still have bi people not knowing many or any other local bi people, not seeing other bisexuals in the mainstream or LGT worlds and not knowing or being able to access community things with other bis. We are little represented in books or the media and people don’t know about the books and zines and magazines already available. The internet has made it easy to find like-minded people but also limited privacy and I think is really fragmented and siloed. It is hard to find bisexuals who aren’t women actors, harmful or fucked up men or women in pornography designed for straight men. We have persistent and high quality bi events but they are sparse and small.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?

“I’m fed up of bi things just not happening if I don’t do them. Not everything should be in my style and voice and I shouldn’t be doing it all. I and other activists campaign for bi people to be more OK and don’t take care of ourselves enough while doing so. People are so convinced we don’t exist they don’t bother with a simple search that would find us. We have little resources while having some of the worst outcomes of any group. I don’t want to spend my entire life being the one person who reminds people about bisexuals, including our so-called allies. I’m not impressed with the problem resolution skills in our communities and while we talk about being welcoming I’m not sure we’re very effective at it. I’m fed up with mouthing the very basics and never getting into depth about bi lives and being one who supports but who is not supported. I’m all for lowering barriers but at a certain point if people don’t actively want to do bi community volunteering it won’t happen. Some people are great critics but build little.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Why are we doing this personally? I’m not sure we know. How long will we hope rather than do? Honestly, are there so few who care? Alternatively should we stop the trying to do bi stuff and either do some self-analysis, be happy to accept being what we are now as a community, chill out and just let stuff happen or give up and go and do something else instead.”

Patrick Richards-Fink’s story

085d4de So first of all, explain a little about the activism you’re involved/have been involved in.

“Mostly internet – I am a Label Warrior, a theorist and educator. Here’s how I described it on my blog: “One of the reasons that I am a bisexual activist rather than a more general queer activist is because I see every day people just like me being told they don’t belong. It doesn’t mean I don’t work on the basic issues that we all struggle against — homophobia, heterosexism, classism, out-of-control oligarchy, racism, misogyny, this list in in no particular order and is by no means comprehensive. But I have found that I can be most effective if I focus, work towards understanding the deep issues that drive the problems that affect people who identify the same way that I have ever since I started to understand who I am. I find that I’m not a community organizer type of activist or a storm the capitol with a petition in one hand and a bullhorn in the other activist — I’m much better at poring over studies and writing long wall-o’-text articles and occasionally presenting what I’ve gleaned to groups of students until my voice is so hoarse that I can barely do more than croak.” So internet, and when I was still in school, a lot of on-campus stuff. Now I’m moving into a new phase where my activism is more subtle – I’m working as a therapist, and so my social justice lens informs my treatment, especially of bi and trans people.”

What made you get involved?

“I can’t not be.”

How do you feel about the state of bi activism worldwide (esp UK and USA) at the moment?

“I feel like we made a couple strides, and every time that happens the attacks renewed. I hionestly think the constant attempts to divide the bisexual community into ‘good pansexuals’ and ‘bad bisexuals’ and ‘holy no-labels’ is the thing that’s most likely to screw us.”

What’s causing you to feel disillusioned?  

“It is literally everywhere I turn – colleges redefining bisexuality on their LGBT Center pages, news articles quoting how ‘Bi=2 and pan=all therefore pan=better’, everybloodywhere I turn I see it every day. The word bi is being taken out of the names of organisations now, by the next group of up-and-comers who haven’t bothered to learn their history and understand that if you erase our past, you take away our present. Celebrities come out as No Label, wtf is that. Don’t they make kids read 1984 anymore? It’s gotten to the point now that even seeing the word pansexual in print triggers me. I’m reaching the point now that if someone really wants to be offended when all I am trying to do is welcome them on board, then I don’t have time for it.”

What do you want to say to other activists about this?

“Stay strong, and don’t give them a goddamned inch. I honestly think that the bi organizations – even, truth be told, the one I am with – are enabling this level of bullshit by attempting to be conciliatory, saying things that end up reinforcing the idea that bi and pan are separate communities. We try to be too careful not to offend anyone. Like the thing about Freddie Mercury. Gay people say ‘He was gay.’ Bi people say ‘Um, begging your pardon, good sirs and madams and gentlefolk of other genders, but Freddie was bi.’ And they respond ‘DON’T GIVE HIM A LABEL HE DIDN’T CLAIM WAAHHH WAAHHH!’ And yet… Freddie Mercury never used the label ‘gay’, but it’s OK when they do it. And he WAS bisexual by any measure you want to use. But we back down. And 2.5% of the bisexual population decides pansexual is a better word, and instead of educating them, we add ‘pan’ to our organisation names and descriptions. Now, this is clearly a dissenting view – I will always be part of a united front where my organization is concerned. But everyone knows how I feel, and I think it’s totally valid to be loyal and in dissent at the same time. Not exactly a typically American viewpoint, but everyone says I’d be a lot more at home in Britain than I am here anyway.”

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xtruss · 4 years ago

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The Dead Professor and the Vast Pro-India Disinformation Campaign

— By Abid Hussain & Shruti Menon | BBC Urdu & BBC Reality Check | December 10, 2020

captionThe UN Human Rights Council meets at least three times a year and reviews UN member states' rights records

A dead professor and numerous defunct organisations were resurrected and used alongside at least 750 fake media outlets in a vast 15-year global disinformation campaign to serve Indian interests, a new investigation has revealed.

The man whose identity was stolen was regarded as one of the founding fathers of international human rights law, who died aged 92 in 2006.

"It is the largest network we have exposed," said Alexandre Alaphilippe, executive director of EU DisinfoLab, which undertook the investigation and published an extensive report on Wednesday.

The network was designed primarily to "discredit Pakistan internationally" and influence decision-making at the UN Human Rights Council (UNHRC) and European Parliament, EU DisinfoLab said.

EU DisinfoLab partially exposed the network last year but now says the operation is much larger and more resilient than it first suspected.

REVEALED: Indian Chronicles – how a massive 15-year influence operation successfully targeted the EU & UN with 750+ fake local media and 10+ zombie-NGOs. Executive Summary & full report: http://indianchronicles.eu Here are the facts 👇 (1/n) (EU DisinfoLab @disinfoEU)

There is no evidence the network is linked to India's government, but it relies heavily on amplifying content produced on fake media outlets with the help of Asian News International (ANI) - India's largest wire service and a key focus of the investigation.

The EU DisinfoLab researchers, who are based in Brussels, believe the network's purpose is to disseminate propaganda against India's neighbour and rival Pakistan. Both countries have long sought to control the narrative against the other.

Last year, the researchers uncovered 265 pro-Indian sites operating across 65 countries, and traced them back to a Delhi-based Indian holding company, the Srivastava Group (SG).

Wednesday's report, titled Indian Chronicles, reveals that the operation, run by SG, is spread over at least 116 countries and has targeted members of the European Parliament and the United Nations - raising questions about how much EU and UN staff knew about SG's activities, and whether they could have done more to counter those activities, especially after last year's report.

Mr Alaphilippe said the EU DisinfoLab researchers had never encountered such co-ordination between different stakeholders to spread disinformation.

"During the last 15 years, and even after being exposed last year, the fact that this network managed to operate so effectively shows the sophistication and the drive of the actors behind Indian Chronicles," he said.

Some of the many news sites the investigation found to be fake

"You need more than a few computers to plan and sustain such an action," he said.

The researchers cautioned against "definitively attributing Indian Chronicles to some specific actors such as Indian intelligence services" without further investigation.

Ben Nimmo, a disinformation network expert, told the BBC the uncovered network was "one of the most persistent and complex operations" he had seen, but he too was wary of attributing it to a specific actor.

Mr Nimmo, who is director of investigations at digital monitoring firm Graphika, cited previous examples of privately-run large-scale troll operations. "Just because they're big, it doesn't necessarily mean they're directly run by the state," he said.

The BBC approached the Indian government for comment but had received no response by the time of publication.

Of ghosts and defunct NGOs

One of the most important findings of the open-source investigation was establishing direct links between the Srivastava Group (SG) and at least 10 UN-accredited NGOs, along with several others, which were used to promote Indian interests and criticise Pakistan internationally.

"In Geneva, these think tanks and NGOs are in charge of lobbying, of organising demonstrations, speaking during press conferences and UN side-events, and they were often given the floor at the UN on behalf of the accredited organisations," the report says.

The investigation shows that the operation led by SG began in late 2005, a few months after the UNHRC was founded in its current form.

One particular NGO which caught the eye of the researchers was the Commission to Study the Organisation of Peace (CSOP). The CSOP was founded in the 1930s and won UN-accreditation in 1975 but became inactive later in the 1970s.

The investigation found that a former chairman of the CSOP - Prof Louis B Sohn, one of the 20th Century's leading international law scholars and a Harvard Law faculty member for 39 years - was listed under the name Louis Shon as a CSOP participant at the UNHRC session in 2007 and at a separate event in Washington DC in 2011.

The listings shocked the researchers because Prof Sohn died in 2006.

Louis B Sohn "appeared" at events years after he died

The authors dedicated their investigation to the professor's memory, writing that his name had been "usurped by the malicious actors in this report". They said CSOP "had been resurrected, and its identity hijacked in 2005 by the same actors depicted in our first investigation".

The investigation also shows there were several hundred pro-Indian interventions by the non-accredited NGOs, which were repeatedly given the floor at the UNHRC on behalf of the accredited organisations, pursuing the same agenda of maligning Pakistan.

On other occasions, NGOs and organisations which seemingly had nothing to do with Pakistan or India according to their stated objectives would get the opportunity to speak at the UNHRC and target Pakistan.

In March 2019, during the UNHRC's 40th session, United Schools International (USI), another UN-accredited organisation with direct links to SG, allowed its slot to be used by Yoana Barakova, a research analyst with an Amsterdam-based think-tank called the European Foundation for South Asian Studies (EFSAS).

Ms Barakova spoke about "atrocities committed by Pakistan" during the session. She told the BBC that EFSAS was a partner with USI and she was "not responsible for organisational logistics". The BBC received no reply when it contacted the director of EFSAS, who also represented USI at the same session to criticise Pakistan.

Vast pro-Indian 'propaganda' network exposed

Outrage over right-wing Euro-MPs' Kashmir visit

India buzzes with fake news of 'civil war' in Pakistan

Fake pro-China accounts exposed

The primary news agency re-packaging and boosting pro-India content related to SG appears to be ANI, established in 1971, which describes itself as "South Asia's leading multimedia news agency, with more than 100 bureaus in India, South Asia and across the globe". Indian news media, especially broadcast media, thrive on content provided by ANI.

EU DisinfoLab found at least 13 instances of ANI re-publishing mostly anti-Pakistan and sometimes anti-China op-eds by Members of the European Parliament (MEPs), originally published on EU Chronicle, one of the fake news sites linked to SG.

EU Chronicle was born in May this year when EP Today, a site flagged in the previous disinformation report, was simply discontinued and renamed.

The EU DisinfoLab report said: "The actors behind the operation hijacked the names of others, tried to impersonate regular media such as the EU Observer... used the letterhead of the European Parliament, registered websites under avatars with fake phone numbers, provided fake addresses to the United Nations, created publishing companies to print books of the think-tanks they owned.

"They used layers of fake media that would quote and republish one another. They used politicians who genuinely wanted to defend women or minority rights to ultimately serve geopolitical interests and gave a platform to far-right politicians when convergent objectives could be reached."

Protesters demonstrate against Pakistan outside the UNHRC in Geneva last year

Mr Alaphilippe said the news agency ANI was being used to give legitimacy to the entire "influence operation", which relied "more on ANI than on any other distribution channel" to give it "both credibility and a wide reach to its content".

ANI's news reports have found space in many mainstream Indian news outlets and publishers. Its content was further reproduced on more than 500 fake media websites across 95 countries, the researchers found.

Demonstrations in Europe conducted by organisations linked to the Srivastava Group have also been covered by ANI, as well as by fake media websites linked to SG.

Focus on the EU and UN

According to the findings of the investigation, the disinformation network had a two-pronged strategy to spread influence.

In Geneva, the think-tanks and NGOs were in charge of lobbying and protesting, and taking the floor at the UNHRC on behalf of accredited organisations.

In Brussels, the focus was on the MEPs, who were taken on international trips and solicited to write "exclusive" op-eds for fake outlets like EU Chronicle, which would then be amplified using ANI, the researchers found.

A group of MEPs appear regularly in the investigation. One of them, French MEP Thierry Mariani, has written two op-eds for EU Chronicle and was also part of a controversial visit to Indian-administered Kashmir last year.

"If the Indian government is behind the newspaper [EU Chronicle], it is not my problem," Mr Mariani, a member of France's far-right National Rally, told the BBC.

Organisers and delegation members met Indian PM Narendra Modi during the MEPs' controversial 2019 Kashmir trip

"I sign what I want and I feel, it is my opinion. I have connections in [India's governing] Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and I support the government of [Narendra] Modi," he said.

Two other MEPs named in the report - Angel Dzhambazki from Bulgaria and Grzegorz Tobiszowski from Poland - denied having written op-eds that were published on EU Chronicle.

The articles under their names were also reproduced on ANI.

How to spot a bot

The human cost of 'fake news'

Seven ways to stop bad information

Asked what the EU is doing to fight disinformation networks, EU spokesperson on foreign affairs Peter Stano pointed to the action taken to expose EP Today last year.

"Exposing the disinformation and those who spread it is one of our main instruments," he told the BBC. "We will continue to identify them and call them out."

But he said questions about finances and transparency of NGOs registered in Brussels were for Belgian authorities to answer.

Rolando Gomez, a spokesperson for the UNHRC, told the BBC that it was the prerogative of NGOs to raise whichever issue they wish to address and whoever they grant space to speak on the floor.

"There are no rules stating that an NGO must speak to specific issues. Doing so would amount to infringing on their freedom of speech," Mr Gomez said.

The International Institute of Non-aligned Studies is UN-accredited and openly linked with the Srivastava Group

Gary Machado, managing director of EU DisinfoLab, said he thought the muted reaction to the revelation of the disinformation network was partly because it was "clearly managed by Indian stakeholders".

"Imagine if the same operation was run by China or Russia. How do you think the world would have reacted? Probably with international outrage, leading to public inquiries and probably sanctions," he told the BBC.

But the activities of MEPs named in the report prompted criticism from some of their colleagues.

MEP Daniel Freund from the Greens said fellow members needed to declare their activities.

"There have been at least 24 breaches of rules in the past years. Not a single violation has been sanctioned. So there is little incentive to respect the rules when the worst that can happen is to file a declaration after you have been caught," he said.

Another member, who did not want to be named, said MEPs contributing to sites like EU Chronicles had been identified as "election tourists".

"A ragtag group of MEPs from the bottom of the parliamentary barrel who prefer to travel on sponsored trips by unsavoury governments rather than invest in their mandate," the MEP told the BBC. "How PR stunts with such individuals could be even conceived as helpful is baffling."

The BBC put questions to ANI and to nine other MEPs who have written op-eds for the EU Chronicle and made visits to India, Bangladesh and the Maldives, but received no response.

Who are the Srivastavas - and what next?

The investigations from last year and this year show a man called Ankit Srivastava at the centre of the entire global operation that was uncovered. More than 400 domain names have been bought through Mr Srivastava's private email address or through email addresses belonging to his organisations, the EU DisinfoLab investigations found.

The Srivastava office gate, with the Indian Institute for Non-Aligned Studies and New Delhi Times on the right

Then, there's a case of the mysterious SG-owned tech firm Aglaya. Its website has been inaccessible since at least February this year but in the past the company has advertised products for "hacking/spy tools" and "information warfare services".

Aglaya's marketing brochure mentioned the ability to "hamper country level reputations" and described some of its services as "Cyber Nukes". In a 2017 interview with Forbes magazine, a man called Ankur Srivastava claimed he "only sold to Indian intelligence agencies".

It's unclear what relation, if any, he has to Ankit Srivastava.

A third Srivastava appears to be Dr Pramila Srivastava, chairperson of the group and mother of Ankit Srivastava.

Dr Harshindar Kaur, a paediatrician from the Indian state of Punjab, told the EU DisinfoLab researchers that in 2009 she had been invited to the UNHRC in Geneva to give a lecture on female foeticide when she was threatened by a woman called Dr P Srivastava, who claimed to be a "very senior government official from India".

Dr Kaur told the BBC it was Pramila Srivastava who had threatened her.

The BBC emailed Ankit Srivastava asking him to respond to this and the other allegations in the report, but received no reply. When the BBC visited the firm's offices in Delhi's Safdarjung Enclave, staff there would not answer questions.

What might happen to the network, or how it might evolve, in the light of the latest investigation is unclear.

The authors of Indian Chronicles say their findings "should serve as a call to action for decision-makers to put in place a relevant framework to sanction actors abusing international institutions".

Mr Alaphilippe said following the 2019 investigation there had been "no official communication, no sanction, nothing. This passivity gave a message to Indian Chronicles: you've been exposed, but no consequences".

"We think there should be consequences to disinformation and we expect actions to be taken. The biggest failure from institutions would be if another report is released next year on the same actors with the same techniques," he told the BBC.

"This would mean that EU institutions are ok with foreign interference."

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winryofresembool · 5 years ago

Text

Edwin fic: Coffee Shop Reunion

Summary: a cockroach attacks Winry and Ed is there to protect her (sorry I just can’t write a serious summary for this one) Coffee shop AU/modern AU

A/N: Yes, I know, the most cliched AU ever. But I’ve never written one before and I had a lot of fun with this, so I regret nothing! Who knows, MAYBE if you guys like it, I may write more, but I won’t 100% promise anything (committing to LCMTI back in the day was a Lot and I’m not mentally in a place where I can promise I’ll manage to write regular updates). But anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please, please, review because it has a HUGE power in motivating me!

Genre: general? Bits of drama and fluff

Words: 1700+

Warnings: cockroaches :P (May also be known as Kimblee)

ao3

...

It was just another annoying, busy day at the coffee house for Edward Elric. It was only midday but he had already broken 2 cups, almost lost his temper at 3 customers who were either being rude or taking too long in deciding what they wanted to order while the line started getting longer behind them, and nearly told his boss he was quitting. He was glad he hadn’t done that, though. He really needed the money and being realistic, he knew finding another job wouldn’t be easy for someone as young and inexperienced as him. His brother was still in the hospital and someone had to pay the bills… If his good for nothing dad dared to show up one day, he had no doubt he’d punch the old man right in the face, he thought. Ed was dragged out of his violent fantasies by a new customer, one he didn’t remember seeing before. If he had, he was sure he would remember.

The customer was a young woman, around his age, Ed estimated. Her long, blonde hair was tied on a simple ponytail, and her blue eyes were measuring him as if wondering why he was working in a place like this. She was pretty, but Ed noticed that unlike many other girls that visited this coffee shop, she didn’t pay a lot of attention to her looks. Her mechanic overalls were covered with oil and she also had a tiny oil smudge on her face.

The girl must have noticed Ed’s distraction, because she asked sharply: “Hey?! Do I get service here?”

Ed was going to apologize, but something about her tone set him off. He was already frustrated because of the earlier, so instead he blurted: “What do you want?”

“I may choose another coffee shop the next time if this is how you treat customers…” The girl growled, her eyes gleaming angrily. “But anyway, I’m in a bit of a hurry so a cup of espresso and a sandwich would do. Please,” she added sarcastically.

“Coming,” Ed mumbled and started making the hot drink. One side of him wanted to add salt or pepper (or both) into the drink but he refrained from doing that, knowing this girl would surely complain to his boss, and he was already close to getting fired as he was…

Finally, he delivered the girl’s order (after procrastinating as long as he could without being worried about her attacking him for it) and proceeded to serve other customers. He was still glancing at her from the corner of his eye every once in a while when he was carrying something to that direction. Even though he hated to admit it, something about that girl had raised his curiosity. First of all, she was looking at a map. Not from some phone app, but an actual printed map. Who used those anymore besides older people? It also meant she had probably moved in recently, not yet familiar with this area, Ed concluded.

Second of all, he noticed her having a med school book on the table. A mechanic and a doctor? That sounded like a fascinating combination to Ed, who was studying chemistry and who could have also used a mechanic for his prosthetic leg. But they had just been rather rude to each other, and he wasn’t the type who would go to her and say “Oh hey, sorry about earlier, what would you say if you and I tried to get to know each other better?” So he decided to give up and try to get his mind out of that topic and focus on other customers.

A few minutes later, a dark haired man who reminded Ed of a cockroach arrived into the coffee shop. Something about him made Ed’s neck hair rise a bit despite him ordering and paying just like any other customer would. For a while the man seemed to be contemplating where to sit, and to Ed’s annoyance he found just the seat he wished that man wouldn’t leave alone – next to the blonde girl.

“Is this seat taken?” the man asked, but he had already put his coffee on the table, indicating he wasn’t going anywhere even if she said no.

“Uh, I guess it isn’t…” The girl said unnecessarily, the man already sitting when she finished her answer.

“Good. What’s the name of my pretty companion?”

The girl wondered if she should have felt complimented or annoyed, but she chose the latter. “I’m Winry.”

When she didn’t say anything else, he asked: “What are you reading?” nodding towards the girl’s book.

“Just something for school… Sorry, but I’m a bit busy here,” she took the book and tried to focus on reading it, but that wasn’t working. The man was still staring at her.

“Could you please stop watching me like that?” Winry finally said when he hadn’t moved his gaze from her for at least 3 minutes.

“What, can’t a man look at a pretty girl?”

“No, not when I don’t even know you, yet your stare screams ‘I own you’,” Winry answered honestly, trying to keep her voice calm even though it was getting hard.

“Excuse me?” The man started to lose his cool. “I have to look at something and you happen to be right in front of me.”

“Yes, because you sat right there on purpose. There are plenty of empty seats in this café yet you chose that exact spot,” Winry pointed out. She wasn’t wrong; the rush hour was already over and there weren’t that many customers around currently.

“So? It’s a free world. And you said I could sit here,” he kept insisting.

“I did not…”

“Excuse me?” Ed, who had noticed the raised voices, finally interrupted them. “Is there a problem here?”

“No,” Winry said, not wanting the rude barista to meddle in. She could handle that stranger on her own. However, the older man told Ed: “Yes. This woman said I wasn’t allowed to sit here even though it was a free seat.”

“I think that’s because you were bothering her,” Ed snarled, giving the man a glare that could have probably killed a weaker person.

“I was just sitting here!”

“Try being stared at like that for 5 minutes and then tell me if it was ‘just sitting’. You were looking at her like she’s an object!” Ed growled, each word getting more threatening. “Listen, dude. I give you two options. Either you leave her alone, or I will call the security. Or remove you from here personally.” Ed may not have been tall, but he looked like a man who stood behind his words, so the raven haired man decided to listen to him, even if just this one time. He did mumble something about Ed’s boss, though, as he passed him.

When he had left the scene, Winry spoke: “Thanks. Though you wouldn’t have had to.”

She sounded mildly defensive to Ed, to which he crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow with annoyance.

“Oh OK. Well, the next time someone tries to harass you, I’ll just leave you to handle it on your own.” He grunted and turned back to go and serve other customers.

“Wait. Sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean, I appreciate your help.” Winry said quietly and gave Ed an ashamed look. She hadn’t meant to snap like that.

He took a couple of steps back towards her, his face now worried.

“Does that kind of thing happen to you often?” he asked with a lot softer voice than earlier.

“Uh… it wasn’t the first time,” Winry admitted. “But I am from a small town so it is a bit different there…”

“I’m sorry that some of us can be such idiots…” Ed shook his head, looking like he genuinely meant it. “And sorry about that earlier, I was being quite an asshole too. It’s been a rough day…”

“I guess we all have those sometimes…” Winry sighed.

“Sorry if I’m prying but can I ask where you have moved from? You see, I’m from a small place myself, moved here after my mother’s death…” Ed wasn’t sure why he mentioned that to a stranger but for some reason it felt right, like he had known her way longer than 5 minutes.

“Oh, I’m from Resembool”, Winry noted, “You probably haven’t heard of it, it’s just a small village. I moved here only 2 weeks ago.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Ed exclaimed. “I’m from there too…” The puzzle pieces started connecting in his head. “Wait a sec, I think… I think I know you. You’re Winry Rockbell, aren’t you?”

“I am, but how… Ed? Edward Elric?” Realization struck Winry as she took in the barista properly for the first time. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize that antenna, you still have it,” Winry started laughing. In reality, Ed’s golden eyes were what had given him out, but she wasn’t going to tell that to him, not yet anyway.

“Oh, nice to see you remember my antenna,” Ed said, smirking. “It’s like my trademark at this point.”

“I remember one time when our teacher was annoyed by it and tried to press it down without success,” Winry smiled at the memory.

“I still haven’t forgiven that old witch…” Ed said, pretending to be angry. “But anyway…” Suddenly he seemed a bit awkward. “I know this may feel a bit fast especially after what just happened… But if you ever want someone to show you some places here or anything… I could be interested in doing that.”

“Well, as long as you know that if you act like that creeper just did, I WILL kick your ass.” Winry smiled mischievously. “But sure, I’d like that!”

She pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from her bag and gave it to Ed, who wrote his phone number down on it.

“If you don’t want to contact me, that’s fine,” he noted, “but in all honesty, some change would be nice for me too. The coffee house life can be pretty dull sometimes…”

“I believe you,” Winry nodded. “We’ll see what’s gonna happen this weekend! But I think you should go back now, there’s quite a line there.” She referred to the customers waiting to be served, and Ed realized with embarrassment he had stayed talking with her much longer than planned.

“Oh. Right. But maybe I’ll see you soon!”

“Yep, maybe.” Winry winked at him before collecting her stuff and leaving the coffee house.

#edwin #edxwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #fullmetal alchemist #my fics #coffee shop au

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years ago

Photo

Merry Christmas, @michicant123!

Read on AO3

*****

Gnome Sweet Gnome

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

“Nice of you to completely ignore the fact that you’ve managed to get yourself into this kind of predicament again . And besides, I’m not about to go around town and have the good people of Beacon Hills thinking that I’m some kind of a child abuser .”

Derek frowns, but begrudgingly relents to Stiles’ fretting.

As Stiles tightens his childhood snowflake scarf around the grumpy boy, he reflects upon how exactly he ended up in this situation.

An hour earlier...

“It’s going to be fine . Derek is staying behind with you--”

“ With me, Scott?” Stiles scoffs incredulously, as he flops onto his bed, paying little attention to the freshly printed research notes being crushed beneath his weight. “We both know that he’s going to be skulking around town, scaring the crap outta anyone that gives him a passing glance because he has no control over his glares.”

“Dude, you’re nuts. I’ve seen Derek be all not glare-y plenty of times, especially with you. Besides, he wanted to stay behind.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at those words, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know. Just take care of that feral wendigo as soon as you can, I’m still not over our Die Hard movie marathon being so rudely interrupted.”

Scott chuckles good naturedly, but the audio of the phone call turns patchy, breaking the warm laughter into staticy pieces.

“Hey, buddy, I think you guys are going through shitty service area.” Stiles raises his voice in an attempt to get his parting message through, “Stay safe, kick some feral wendigo ass, I’ll be-- we’ll be totally fine.”

A broken thank you and half of what Stiles assumes was going to be a loving and brotherly parting message is the last thing he hears when the line goes dead. He stares at his now silent phone, pouting childishly at the fact that him and Derek were the line of defense for Beacon Hills while Scott and the rest of his pack went off to go deal with a feral wendigo that tore its way through the neighboring town.

It drew dangerously close to Beacon Hills, but inevitably didn’t tread onto Scott’s territory. Unfortunately, the feral wendigo showed no signs in slowing its killing spree. And Scott, being the overly generous true Alpha he was, insisted upon hunting down the wendigo before any others were unnecessarily killed.

Fortunately, things in Beacon Hills were actually rather calm for once. As this thought flits across Stiles’ mind, he reaches his arm out to knock on the side of his wooden bedframe three times. He never expected to be of the superstitious type, but when you deal with the supernatural on a daily basis, it’s only natural for certain superstitions to follow.

Anyways, things in Beacon Hills are rather calm for once. College is out for Winter break, meaning that Scott and him have been participating in much needed gaming, binging, and general bro time. Albeit being back in Beacon Hills doesn’t permit much time to enjoy such things, as in between the gaming and the binging just this past week they’ve had to deal with a whole ensemble of supernatural creatures.

A bunyip with a rather terrible sense of direction, skeevy gnomes, and apparently dryads (which, honestly, Stiles shouldn’t have been all that surprised by their existence). Just to name a few.

“Who knows, maybe Derek will sniff out some havoc-wreaking, supernatural creature during his patrol.” Stiles mumbles to himself. “Just a small thing to help the time pass faster…”

The doorbell rings and Stiles sits up with a start. He looks at the time on his phone with a frown, it reads 3:24 pm. His dad is still at work, Derek is still on patrol (even if he was done or found something he would have helped himself to the graciously unlocked and slightly cracked open window and just invited himself in as usual), and Scott along with the rest of the pack were on the trail of the north-bound wendigo.

Carefully and cautiously, with years of supernaturally honed wariness, Stiles carefully peers out his window to take a surreptitious glance at whoever was on the doorstep… a kid? Before Stiles can even process what he’s looking at, the kid looks up directly at Stiles and locks eyes. Stiles stumbles backwards from the window in shock and trips over his gnome research notes that were neatly stacked on the floor.

“What the shit ?” Stiles hisses under his breath as his mind tries to make sense of the kid at the house’s doorstep. A ghoul? No, no, that doesn’t make sense, a ghoul wouldn’t politely knock. Scared child of a mysterious origin? That’s the most likely… those clothes are obnoxiously huge for such a small kid…

A young but irritated voice travels up through the cracked window, “Just open the damn door, Stiles.”

“Can’t you just use your werewolf powers to break the door dow-oh my God !?” Stiles rushes back over to the window and pulls it all the way open, he leans out and looks at the kid with disbelief, “No. Fucking. Way .”

Sure enough, standing on the front doorstep of Stiles’ home was a very displeased, ruffled, and tiny Derek Hale. There was something off-putting about seeing a young (what was he, seven!? ) child standing with crossed arms and a glare that would make anyone's skin crawl if not for the fact that the person delivering the glare was a child .

“ Yes way. Now, let me in . Unless you want your door to be accidentally turned into toothpicks.” The threats coming from such an adorable baby face, somehow made them seem simultaneously more and less intimidating.

Stiles splutters and quickly makes his way downstairs. He pulls open the front door after taking a couple steadying breaths to reveal some three odd feet of pure irritation.

“Wh-What even happened ?” Stiles quickly steps away from the doorway as the enraged child pushes his way into the Stilinski abode. “Wait a sec, are you even Derek? The Derek I know would have Nightcrawler-ed his way up into my room without a second thought… Oh crap, I’m going to die now, aren’t I?”

The child gives Stiles an unimpressed and a well-practiced glare. That alone makes the anxious feeling that was starting to creep up his spine back off quickly.

“Last time I checked, Nightcrawler teleports and werewolves do no such thing.” Derek frowns up at Stiles’ dumbstruck, and now relieved face.

“Oh thank god, you are Derek…” Stiles splutters once more as he attempts to make sense of the scene before him, “W-th-w-how…? I reiterate, what happened?”

Derek turns with a growl and starts to head up the stairs, comically stumbling on the clothes that are Derek’s size, roughly 20 years too soon. Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head in an effort to see if this was just some sort of elaborate hallucination. But young Derek is still there when he reopens his eyes. So he closes the front door and moves to follow Derek up the stairs.

“Uh...Der…?” Stiles speaks hesitantly, keeping his distance from the angry child.

“What do you think happened, Stiles?” Derek snaps as he reaches the second landing.

“I literally have no idea, hence the question. I thought you were mellowing out in your old age, guess I was wrong.” Stiles leans against the banister, “Though to be fair, you being a child might be a contributing factor to your classic Derek Hale grumpiness™. But no matter what age you are, you have a knack for being the most frustrating person I’ve ever had to deal with.”

Stiles chuckles to himself and looks up at Derek, awaiting an equally scathing remark, only to find Derek’s wide, hazel eyes focused on the ground, his small lower lip quivering just the slightest bit. Stiles is taken aback by this amount of sincerity upon Derek’s face, it’s so uncharacteristic but he can’t help but feel absolutely awful about his jabs.

“Uh…” Stiles struggles to find the words, which is par for the course when dealing with Derek in regards to anything other than snark and sarcasm.

“You’re right,” Derek’s voice is soft and so young sounding, Stiles stills at this, “I shouldn’t have expected you to just automatically know what went wrong.”

“Derek I…” But whatever moment of sincerity that managed to exist between the two of them was quickly forgotten as Derek finally returned Stiles’ earlier snark with a comment of his own.

“But I assumed that as our resident researcher and navigator of the bestiary, that you would have a grasp on exactly what could have caused this without me having to hold your hand through everything.” Derek turns and walks to Stiles’ room, calling over his shoulder, “I guess you’re growing senile in your old age.”

“H-hey! You’re older than me!” Stiles follows.

“Not right now, I’m not. As you have made sure to point out.” Derek frowns at the papers strewn about the room, “How the hell do you find anything in this mess?”

“I’ve told you before, I have a system of organized chaos, step off.”

“Right…” Derek responds dubiously. With a roll of his eyes, he goes over to Stiles’ wardrobe and starts rifling through the contents.

“Why yes, Derek. Please, help yourself to my clothes.” Stiles sorts through his recent research notes, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, I realize that I may not be as buff as you when you’re all regular Derek sized, but I think my clothes will still be too big for you. Unless you decide to wear a pair of my boxers as shorts…”

He hears Derek grunt in affirmative as he grabs the gnome notes that he so unceremoniously kicked out of the carefully organized pile on his floor. As he shuffles the pages together, he flips through them gently. There’s pages on gnome diets, their underground culture, how to visit them, how to appease them, et cetera.

“So I’m going to have to admit my ignorance here. Other than that thing that you know who was trying to accomplish, I have no idea why or how this is happening…” Stiles turns to look at Derek, who is now wearing a pair of Stiles’ egg printed boxers and an incredibly loose, threadbare tank top that he didn’t even realize he still had. “You’re gonna have to give me something to work with… so I can… crack this case.”

Derek blinks, no appreciation for Stiles’ joke making abilities.

“Forget you, that was hilarious. Throw me a bone.” He stops with faux consideration, “I guess I should be the one throwing you a bone though.”

At the lack of a reaction, Stiles withers and pouts, slumping against his windowsill.

“Are you done?”

Stiles nods silently.

“Okay, so I was on patrol, as we agreed.”

“Mm-hm?”

“And while I was on patrol, I…” Derek hesitates before continuing carefully. “Noticed something strange, and next thing I know, I’m suddenly in the body of my six year old self again.”

Stiles stares at Derek as he says this, his body language is strangely guarded and Stiles frowns. “I personally think you look closer to seven or eight, but that’s beside the point. Derek, that is possibly the least helpful thing you could have told me. Could you give me a place, smell, or description to work with? Literally anything helpful at all?”

“City park. Near the library.” Derek grits out the words as if the confession of that helpful information was physically painful.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Stiles stands and moves to his whiteboard, he spins it around to reveal a map of Beacon Hills. “Okay…” He pores over the map and sees that a sealed entrance to the old subway is located near the back of the library.

“Was this near the Eastern or Western part of the park?”

“Uh… east.”

“Hm…” Sure enough, the underground entrance meets up with about where Derek reticently described. He starts to mentally list the various supernatural creatures that like to make their home in the underground area. “So… why didn’t you just help yourself into my room as you usually do? You never answered.” Stiles says conversationally.

“I...I couldn’t.”

“What was that?”

“I said, I couldn’t.”

Stiles turns away from the board to gawk at Derek. “What do you mean, you couldn’t ? Derek, do you not have your werewolfiness right now?”

“No. I mean I don’t not have it. But I don’t have the fine-tuned control that my adult body does.” Derek looks down at his small palms, “If I try to use my werewolf abilities in anyway, I have no way of gauging the strength behind my actions right now.”

“Exactly how strong can a werewolf child be?” Stiles laughs weakly.

“Let me put it this way. I tried to run here on my hands and feet, because that’s usually faster for me. Rather than running, I accidentally destroyed part of the asphalt on the ground.” Derek slumps onto the ground, “I can’t control it right now.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Stiles turns back to the board and writes down a list of the underground dwelling creatures. “Did you catch a whiff of any of these before this happened to you?”

“I...might have noticed a gnome.”

“Oh man, really? I don’t want to have to deal with them again so soon.” Stiles goes over to his freshly organized pile of gnome notes, he flips through them to the sections on how to visit and appease them. “Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid to piss them off?”

“Your confidence in me is astounding.”

“You haven’t given me much to work with, can you blame me?”

Derek levels him with a classic glare and stare. “I didn’t do anything to piss them off.”

“You sure you didn’t accidentally kick a gnome puppy or something? Destroy any gnome gardens?” Stiles grins, “Did you kill Gnomeo and Juliet?”

“Alright, clearly you’re not going to help. I’ll wait until everyone else is back.” Derek moves to leave the room.

“Wait wait wait, sorry. This is just… ridiculous.” Stiles flips through his notes to the visitation pages. There are illustrations of jewel toned beetles amongst the steps of how to enter a gnome’s underground city. “Hm? You know I was initially joking about stepping on gnome stuff but…” Stiles takes a closer look at the descriptions under the beetles. “Do you remember maybe accidentally stepping on this ?”

He turns the book towards Derek and points at the emerald beetle illustration. Beneath it reads the words “ used to shrink non-gnome creatures into a size that allows visitation into a gnome city, typically used for land negotiations and trading ”.

Derek’s eyes widen in recognition, but he quickly shrugs, floundering slightly, “M-maybe, I’m not sure.”

“ Dude , you should have said something sooner, Jesus.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Derek huffs and averts his gaze. But there’s gotta be something more to this.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Whatever, c’mon we need to get you back to the gnome-man lands, they have these ruby beetles to reverse the effect of the emerald beetles.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not having you leave the house dressed in my boxers and a tank top that looks like it’s going to fall apart any second.”

“Stiles, it doesn’t matter.”

“What, are you gonna just walk there, while holding a bag of your adult clothing? Hoping that not a single concerned citizen stops you along the way?”

“I can use the woods.” Derek speaks with finality.

“Well the entrance to Gnome Town is in the basement of the library, which you will have to walk through to reach.” Stiles crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow defiantly, “You wanna try that again?”

“I can break into the library.”

“It’s freezing outside, and there will be plenty of patrons in the library today.” Stiles moves to his closet, “Try again, buddy.”

Derek’s cheeks redden with indignation, “And what are you exactly trying to suggest?”

With a grin, Stiles pulls down a cardboard box from the top shelf of his closet. He opens it to reveal child-sized clothing. He tosses a random graphic tee at Derek’s dumbfounded face and rummages deeper into the box. He plucks his matching snowflake patterned hat and scarf from the side of the box and digs some more. He withdraws some blue striped sweats aaand… from the depths of the box he unearths a bright red and tree-patterned winter sweater.

He holds all the items aloft with a huge grin splitting his face.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope! Bundle up sourwolf! Don’t worry, I’ll turn away.”

Stiles lays the clothes on the bed and turns around with a smirk. He hears Derek mumbling curses under his breath, but he also hears the shifting of fabric. Stiles’ eyes rove his closet and he frowns thoughtfully. He doesn’t have any kid shoes that his father deemed important enough to keep for future use. He then recalls a pair of yellow rain boots that sat long forgotten in the garage.

Derek grits out an “I’m done” and Stiles turns around to see little Derek bundled up in his old clothing. And if he were to be asked candidly, Stiles would have said that Derek looked absolutely adorable. Thankfully no one was there to question him.

“Hey, what about the hat and scarf?”

“What about shoes ?”

“Thank you for reminding me! C’mon.” Stiles grabs the hat and scarf from his bed. He also grabs the adult Derek clothes that were carefully folded on the edge of his bed and flies down the stairs.

Derek follows and forces out a small, “Thank you. I can actually walk without tripping over myself now.”

“Aww, you’re welcome. Glad to be of service.” Stiles puts the clothes on the kitchen table and opens the door leading into the garage. Sure enough, the pair of yellow rain boots are still there under the rake and years of debris. He shakes various bug carcasses out of the boots and presents them to Derek with a flourish.

“Your shoes, my liege.”

“Shut up.” But Derek takes the shoes and pulls them on. “ Now can we go?”

“Tsk tsk, you gotta put the hat and scarf on.”

“No.”

“No!?”

“This is absolutely ridiculous.”

“Ohohoho, really . This is ridiculous, but the fact that you have been turned into a younger version of yourself again isn’t?”

“ Stiles , I’m a werewolf. I have a higher body temperature, therefore I don’t exactly need to be ‘bundled’ up.”

Stiles pulls on the hat and holds the scarf out to Derek. He relents and lets Stiles wind the scarf around his neck, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“There we go, that wasn’t that hard, was it?”

“Whatever, can we go sometime today?”

“Yeah yeah, lemme grab my keys and wallet.” Stiles grabs those as well as a plastic bag for Derek’s clothes.

The drive across town to the library is awkward.

Stiles knows that Derek is still omitting something about his encounter earlier, and he’s pretty sure that Derek knows that he knows. He frets at a few stoplights, trying to find the right words to figure out why Derek was being so cagey about this whole encounter.

Stiles thought that they were past this pettiness, they’ve worked together for many years at this point, and he even tentatively considered them to be friends. But this evasiveness and unwillingness to be open about things was just like the early days of their… well, it wasn’t even an acquaintanceship, they barely tolerated each other.

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Well I wasn’t aware that this beetle granted you mind reading powers, unless you had mind reading powers as a kid and lost that ability with age.”

“No, I mean…” Derek sighs and looks out the side window. He twists his fingers into the fabric of the sweater. “I know that I’ve been weirdly unspecific about this whole thing.”

“Ha! Yeah, you think?” Stiles scoffs.

“It’s because I wanted to make sure that you weren’t affected.”

“Affected? By a beetle that you accidentally stepped on on the other side of town?” Stiles snorts, “Derek, c’mon. I thought we were past this.”

“We are , it’s just... I didn’t step on the beetle on accident.” He trails off into whisper at the end of the sentence, but Stiles heard clear enough.

“What do you mean it wasn’t on accident?” Stiles blinks, trying to make sense of the new information, “Your super sniffer should have told you that that beetle was magical, right? You should’ve known that stepping on some random magical being would have had some sort of consequence!”

“I knew that it was something.” Derek slumps in his seat and grumbles.

“ Something ? Derek, just tell me, stop this omission bullshit.” Stiles says with irritation.

“It smelled like one of the nogitsune’s flies to me. Which worried me.” Derek huffs, “There you go.”

Stiles stills at that. Even with what Derek just said, he still notices the strange amount of apprehension around the words. “And?”

“And what else? Do you want me to tell you how it made me worried about you? How scared I was about you getting hurt again? What do you want me to say, Stiles?” Derek’s voice raises in volume and he turns towards Stiles full bodily.

Stiles swallows the lump in his throat and pulls over to park. He blinks and shakes his head, trying to process what Derek just said. He turns his head towards Derek. Derek’s face is red and blotchy, his eyes are huge and have tears beading at the corners. His lower lip is quivering as his eyebrows stay aggressively furrowed.

“Well!?” A couple of the tears escape and stream down his round cheeks.

Combined with the teary eyed child in his car and his brain’s gears finally working, Stiles is astonished by his revelation.

“Oh my god, you care about me.”

“Wh-w- YES ! I thought that was obvious!” Derek responds emphatically.

“No, you really care about me. Scott said that you wanted to stay behind, and that you’re not ‘glarey’ around me.” Stiles rests his forehead against his steering wheel, “Oh sweet Jesus.”

“Stiles, I’m so sorry.” Derek speaks carefully, “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I’m sorry for putting you in an awkward position.”

Derek sighs, “Now that I know, I can work on getting over you. I’d like if we could still be friends, despite this.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Stiles takes a shuddering breath, “Did I say at any moment, that I didn’t feel the same?” Derek’s eyes widen at this. Stiles continues speaking and mumbling his thoughts under his breath, “I’m going to kill Scott. There’s probably not even a real feral wendigo is there?”

He stops suddenly, and grabs the plastic bag of clothes as well as a single chocolate gold coin from his cup holder. “Nope, I’m not having this conversation with you while you look like a third grader. C’mon.”

Derek blinks as Stiles owlishly, and hastily wipes the drying tears from his face. Stiles slides out of the car and goes around to open the door for Derek. Derek hops down and meekly tugs at the edge of the sweater, Stiles locks the car and holds out his free hand. Derek looks up at Stiles and smiles tentatively.

This isn’t exactly how Stiles imagined holding hands with Derek this holiday season, but it was still nice in a strange way.

The two of them enter the library and nod at the employees at the circulation desk. Stiles guides Derek through the stacks to the back of the building to the once carefully sealed door leading to the basement. He nudges the door open with his hip after making sure there were no onlookers, and the two of them descend into the dark depths of the library.

They carefully navigate the dark and dusty stacks of the basement and find the sealed entrance to the old subway platform. Or at least that’s how it appeared, Derek and Stiles pass through the disguised archway and enter a warmly lit platform. Standing before them were four gnome guards wearing what looked like armor made out of reptilian skin seated around a small table playing some sort of card game.

The gnomes look up from the table at the sound of Stiles and Derek entering the vestibule.

"Ey wouldja look at dis, dose humans are back." The gnome seated facing them calls out.

"Aye, I see dem." Says the gnome to his left.

"Dat were one seems to 'ave used an emerald beetle. But he didn't pass through here, right?" Says the one to his right. The fourth gnome nods silently in agreement.

The first gnome stands and grins with broken teeth, "Dey prolly need demselves a ruby beetle, amiright?"

Stiles takes this moment to speak, "Yes, yes that's why we're here. It seems as though an emerald beetle wandered off, and my friend here stepped on it."

"A were shoulda been able to whiff out oneuva our beetles." The left one speaks with an incredulous tone.

"Yes, he did, but he mistook it for another kinda magic. Easy mistake to make. Now could we get one of those ruby beetles to go, or is it dine-in only?"

"Stiles..." Derek hisses under his breath, his hand tightening around Stiles' infinitesimally.

The first gnome steps around the table and waddles towards them. "Sure sure, dats an easy mistake. But mistakes come at a price..." The gnome grins and holds out an empty palm.

"Show me the beetle first."

"Show me whatcha gon' give me for da beetle."

Stiles pulls the chocolate gold coin and a pair of clear red plastic dice from his pocket, while simultaneously the gnome buries his hand into his pocket and withdraws a closed fist.

“This is so dumb.” Derek whispers to Stiles.

“Shut up .” Stiles whispers back.

The gnome to the right pipes up, “On dee count a three…”

Stiles maintains eye contact with the first gnome as the right gnome counts down, “One… two… three !”

In the leather covered palm of the gnome lay a glittering and bright red beetle. In Stiles’ hand lay the chocolate gold coin and the red dice from the Scott’s game of Aggravation that he happened to have stowed away in his pocket.

The gnome’s eyes glitter at the sight of Stiles’ offering. “Dose are some lovely lookin’ dice you’ve got dere, you sure you wanna part with such a lovely item?”

Stiles falters, but quickly nods, “Oh I know, I will miss them so much. They’re really so lovely, aren’t they, Derek?” Derek nods dumbly, “Now then, if I give you these beloved dice, and my golden coin here, will that be enough for the ruby beetle?”

The main gnome turns back to the other three and they snicker conspiratorially. “Ye, take the damned beetle. Gimme dose dice already!”

Stiles gives the gnomes a withering smile as they trade. The gnomes cackle with glee as the main gnome returns to the table with his spoils.

“Let’s get outta here, Derek…” Stiles leads the two of them back into the library basement, the echoes of the gnomes cackling and the clattering of sound of the dice upon the table follows them.

Derek steps out of the bathroom sheepishly holding the plastic bag of clothes out to Stiles. “I think my shoes should be around the back of the building still…”

“Dude, why didn’t you tell me to go grab them while you were doing your beetle mumbo jumbo, presto change-o?”

Derek reflexively responds with a “Don’t call me dude.” But then he coughs awkwardly, “I… I didn’t want you too far away.”

“Aww… you’re such a sap.” Stiles takes the plastic bag from Derek’s outstretched hand, and takes the now empty hand into his opposite one.

“Let’s go get your shoes. I’m pretty sure the cafe has a no shoes, no shirt, no service policy.”

“Cafe?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not waiting a moment longer to take you out on a date. If you’ll have me of course.” Stiles hesitates for a split second as Derek’s silence draws out. “Der?”

Derek blinks, but a gentle, sincere smile works its way across his face. “Of course.”

Stiles returns the smile with a sincere one of his own. A mischievous glint enters his eyes, “By the way… did I mention what an adorable kid you made?”

“ Stiles …”

“ So cute. I should’ve taken pictures when I had the chance!”

“Nevermind, this was a terrible idea. I’m going home.”

“Wait, Derek!”

“This is a library, Stiles. Please keep your voice down.”

“ Derek… ”

“Nope. Stop following me.”

“C’mon, lemme treat you.”

“ No .”

“But baby it’s cold outside!”

“I’m done here.”

#Michicant123 #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*art19 #*gifts19

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