#I wish all the people who go on about government leeches get into a car wreck or something

[chromanticore]

I think one of the things that doesn’t get brought up enough about living with a chronic condition is that it becomes so painfully clear that some of your loved ones flat out hate you. Anger, frustration, confusion, and yes, jealousy are all too common reactions that non disabled folks tend to have towards their disabled friends and family. And when it’s family, it sucks on a whole other level, because on one hand they are people who claim to love and support you, but on the other are comfortable interacting with you in a way that they wouldn’t be with a stranger or acquaintance.

“I wish I could lay in bed all day do I nothing!” I don’t know how to tell you this, but no, you fucking don’t. It’s literally hell to be stuck in your own body like this, and your assumption that I’m just having the time of my life shows just how little you understand about chronic illness.

“You’re just lazy!” I have multiple doctors who beg to differ, but you know better than them about what’s going on in my body, right?

“I wish the government would pay me to sit around all day long doing nothing!” If this is the first thought you have after learning about someone’s disability, What The Actual Fuck Is Wrong With You?? I would also like to kindly point out that the stipend you might receive is barely enough to live on. Disability often forces us to rely on the very people who literally hate us for not being as “useful” as them. In fact, that blend of “steady income but not enough to actually live on” make us prime targets for abusers who basically only value us for that stipend. We’re not mooching off anyone, and it’s more than likely that someone is mooching of us. And if we have anything contradictory to say then we’re “ungrateful for everything that they do for us” and anything else they can think to accuse us of. After a point, anything anyone does for us becomes something to feel guilty about. Any time I prioritize myself, I am treated like some selfish narcissistic jerk who doesn’t care about anyone else by the very people who have made it their life mission to remind me of my “inferiority”.

Like, I’m not mooching off anybody, babe. I am a prisoner. I want to be self-reliant and not have to rely on others for my basic needs. That’s it, that’s my whole life goal. To be able to care for myself. It has taken me years to be able to take steps towards gaining my own independence. Now that I am finally well enough to attempt college, after a fucking decade, I am resented for no longer providing emotional and/or financial support for someone else.

TL;DR: living with disability and chronic conditions sucks, in reality.

[neonponders]

👀 👀 👀 👀  Oh jesus oh lord. Deeper Than Skin is finished so I’ll enable another wip.

@ghostofjellyfishforgotten I hope you don’t mind me using your tags on this vampire!Billy / blood donor!Steve post as inspiration! Your brain is just too big for me not to pass up an opportunity to write vampire shenanigans.

Read on ao3 ~

🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹

Steve didn’t judge people who worked as donors—

Fine, as an adult with a better awareness and compassion, Steve didn’t judge donors. He might’ve said some shitty things to Jonathan Byers when he worked to make his family extra money.

Honestly? Steve admired that. Jonathan being underage and having the guts to figure out how to get into the donation clinic, and then to let…

Steve knew he was a coward in a lot of ways. He knew it when he called Jonathan a queer who enjoyed leeches sucking on him. He knew it when he lost to the punches Byers threw. For a skinny, half empty blood bag, the guy could really hit. And Steve knew it when he almost ran away from Nancy and Jonathan fighting off the rogue vampire who kidnapped little Will Byers.

But Steve didn’t run away.

Just like he didn’t run away from the couch he sat on with his mother while his father explained…a situation that left Steve digging deeper and deeper into the gap between fear and bravery. Maybe call it disassociation. Or confused shock.

“You what?”

Harrington senior never took well to being interrupted. But he sighed from across the coffee table and reiterated, “The family is in debt.”

“No. You. You’re in debt. This is your problem.”

The man certainly didn’t take well to having his own mistakes shoved under his nose. “This isn’t for debate. This is the way things are and need to be.”

“No,” Steve repeated like a broken record clinging onto its song. “This is your fault. Who’s made me work minimum wage jobs to teach me a lesson? Who’s refused to pay for me to go to community college? Who hasn’t let me work in their company? And who made the shitty gambles with your company’s stocks? You shoved me out, so it’s definitely not my problem—”

“The contract has already been signed.”

Now his mother shifted her posture on the couch beside him. “Excuse me?”

Steve’s father moved his blunt nails over the armrest of his wingback, fidgeting. At least something put fear into the old bastard’s heart.

“There’s nothing I could do. The market has been evolving ever since vampires gained their rights and opened up their decades and centuries old bonds—”

“Vampire legislation passed over a century ago,” Mrs. Harrington purred. Sometimes the worst anger was the quiet kind. “You have no excuse. You lost the game, and you sold our son. Is that what we’re to believe?”

“That’s not possible,” Steve intercepted. “Slavery isn’t a thing anymore. Even I picked that up in history. And I would have to be there to sign the contract! It’s my—”

“Steve,” his father silenced. “When enough money is involved, anything is bought. And you’re not like anyone else.”

Mrs. Harrington fumed, “Do not talk to him like he’s a prize pony!”

“Except to a wealthy vampire, he is.”

Steve could only sit in weighted silence for a moment. He always joked to himself that he’d be disowned one of these days. For being a disappointment. For all of his bad grades. For giving his friends alcohol and cigarettes. For only being able to get jobs that required no qualifications or experience level at all. For discovering he liked kissing boys at the grimy music venues Robin took him to. Maybe living at home for too long. Or leaving the smell of burnt pancakes in the air too often because he always struggled with the first one—

“Vampire?” he croaked. For some reason it hadn’t dawned to him until now but…shit.

Holy shit.

Steve wasn’t being sold off to be some billionaire’s secretary for life. He was being…truly sold. Like…goodbye, Steve, who likes spring nights and summer mornings. His favorite food is breakfast and he wishes he kept with the music lessons his mom paid for instead of being peer pressured into sports. Whose best friend was Robin Buckley because she was brave and funny and stuck with him during his ironic and a little bit terrifying queer awakening…

Hello, Donor 0235. Blood type O. Allergic to nickel and checks off all vaccination requirements.

“Steve’s not wrong,” his mother echoed like a voice deep in a cave, drawing Steve out of his thoughts. “He is the one to sign the contract. Not you.”

“He is still classified as our dependent and on our insurance,” his father refused.

“So being an adult means nothing in this country?”

“They have our family records, Annette!” he exclaimed. “There is a dual government in this country even if nobody below upper-middle class sees it. The human government had to cede a great deal because the vampire population is massive. And they’ve kept track of all the Sanguis families! Name changes, and two World Wars did nothing to save us—”

“The what?” Steve all but whispered.

His mother rotated her hips to face him. “We only have legends about how it happened. Paleolithic gods making deals, vampires crossbreeding humans to make a certain kind of blood donor, human evolution after symbiotic deals were struck—but that doesn’t matter. The point is that there are people in this world with abilities that preserve themselves against vampires. That’s why you healed in less than two days after that silly fight by the movie theatre.”

His father intercepted, “The genes skipped your mother but fell to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened as his mother confirmed, “To protect us, girls have been promoted in the family tree for generations. Through marriage, their names could change, and make them harder to track.”

Steve countered toward his father, “So this really isn’t your place to sign my life away. Like five times over.”

“I quite agree,” his mother turned back to the man she’d married. The man who was supposed to protect her and her children with his name and promising, growing business.

At least Steve wasn’t the only failure in the family.

His father massaged his forehead and defended, “As I said. Humans’ government is far easier to corrupt our way into forgiving any debt. The vampires, however, are inconsolable. The bastard would have my business, the cars, our house, and taken his time discovering Steve on his own if I hadn’t—”

Steve took after his father, but he was his mother’s son as they both stood up from the couch, furious that this man had thrown his own kid under a vampire’s bus—

“Get out of the house, Steve.”

His head whipped around at her. “I-What?”

“Get out of the house,” she seethed, but not at him. “I don’t care where or what you do. Go.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice but he hadn’t managed to grab his car keys or his shoes before the house and his ribcage trembled with his parents’ arguing. He went in his socks outside and put the shoes on in his car.

Then…he didn’t know where to go. Running the hell away seemed like the obvious solution, but if vampires really had such a network, what was the point? And if he left, what would happen to his mom?

Steve drove on autopilot to the video rental store. Robin. All he had was Robin, who took the lollipop out of her mouth when the bell on the door twittered. “Hey, dingus, it’s your day off—Steve?”

He couldn’t really remember driving. That probably should have raised more red flags than he already had, but for now, the black and neon carpeting of the Family Video was blurring and swirling…

“I’m gonna throw up,” he heard himself say.

And Robin in that distant, echoing cave his mother had spoken from, “Outside! STEVE!”

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #228: TRIAL and ERROR!

February, 1983

AT LAST! The trial of Yellowjacket!

Its been over a month in-universe and about a year out of universe but here we are. The Trial of Hank Pym.

Although the time getting here was mostly farting around with other stuff while Hank sat in prison. Can you believe Scott Lang is the only person we see visit him?

The Avengers found time to experiment on an immortal child who thought jumping into the sun was a good idea but not to visit Hank?

I’m not saying that Jan should have had to put herself through that and Tony is clearly feeling too guilty over the whole thing. But Cap didn’t visit? Hawkeye didn’t? Mr. Lets Bust Hank Out?

Possibly they did off-screen. The Hank arc has been kind of suffering from Shooter’s inability to balance writing and EICing. I feel that if redone, there would be more to the arc.

Anyway, the trial!

We skipped the first two days. Its the third day of the trial now.

The graphic guy went above and beyond for that Sad Composited Hank graphic.

I like the AN AVENGER’S DARKEST HOUR thing.

I also like the setup for recapping the necessary details.

Ex-Avenger attempts to heist the government would be big news so all the information is conveyed as this news report.

INCLUDING COURTROOM SKETCHES

God, that’s good.

That’s good comicing. Amazing.

Look at Thor in a courtroom sketch. Superb.

Look at that cheesy graphic for the coverage. Does anybody in Marvel even use a domino mask?? Everything about this is amazing.

People may say that Frank Miller revolutionized using media talking heads for social commentary in his comics. Maybe. Maybe so. But how many courtroom sketches did he include? Huh?

So apparently the reason why we’re on day three of the trial is that days one and two were entirely debates over whether Hank was even fit to stand trial.

I’d’ve thought they would get that out of the way ahead of time.

And Hank wants his day in court. So who was arguing he wasn’t fit to stand trial? The prosecution?

Apparently, the prosecution tried to argue that Hank’s history as a hero made his crimes more heinous, as a legal argument.

Which, uh? Um? Uh?

The defense objected that this was prejudicial but they were overruled.

The news recap ends when She-Hulk turns off the television angrily for reminding her of her legal career.

She-Hulk: “Leeches! I haven’t met Henry Pym, but he can’t be the creep they’re making him out to be! And that prosecutor -- ! I know it’s his job, but do they all have to be sanctimonious?! I hated that when I was a practicing attorney, and I don’t hate it any less since I’ve become She-Hulk!”

Reminds me that her nemesis in her original Savage She-Hulk book was an Assistant DA called Buck Bukowski who was a real sexist douche.

He mellowed out over the course of the book, mostly by learning that a death he blamed She-Hulk for was sorta his fault, but I wonder if she left LA so she wouldn’t be tempted to throw him out to sea.

She-Hulk is also still super bored (in New York??) and wanders downstairs to see if anyone is up to anything interesting.

Downstairs in the gym, she finds that the Caps are training.

The Captains America and Marvel.

Cap(tain America) is doing some combat training with Captain Monica Marvel.

This will not be at all confusing to have them on the same team.

Anyway, this training sequence is amazing so lets just have it all:

Cool stuff, Caps.

The training has to be cut short because Cap(tain America) has a prior commitment but still good stuff.

She-Hulk applauds Captain Marvel’s showing but Marvel waves it off as thanks to Cap(tain America)’s training. Which Cap(tain America) waves off as thanks to her being a quick study.

Its like a self-perpetuating modesty loop in here.

Cap excuses himself to go to his prior engagement.

Captain Marvel: “It’s easy to see why he’s called a living legend! He’s very good! And his grasp of strategy is second to none!”

She-Hulk: “Yeah, he does pretty well for a guy with no powers, but I could take him!”

What a this era of She-Hulk thing to say, She-Hulk.

Captain Marvel tells She-Hulk hey maybe not! Cap has stood up to some pretty tough customers, including Jen’s cousin the Hulk.

Which She-Hulk didn’t know!

Y’know, after Bruce (or recently implied to be Joe Fixit Actually??) started Jen’s origin story, the Hulk has not much further relevance in the Savage She-Hulk book. Jen doesn’t even give any indication that she’s keeping up with his exploits.

Not surprising, since the book was trying to be its own thing. And Jen’s life just starts to implode not very far into her solo so she doesn’t have time to also worry about Bruce.

Captain Marvel mentions that all of Cap(tain America)’s run-ins with the Hulk are recorded in the Avengers computer archives and She-Hulk concedes she should give that a look.

Hey, she finally has something to do in New York!

Captain Marvel also tells She-Hulk that she’s going to head home.

She-Hulk: “You have a place in the city?”

Captain Marvel: “Not this city... New Orleans.”

She-Hulk: “NEW ORLEANS?!?”

Captain Marvel: “Sure! It’s a snap to commute -- when you can travel at the speed of light! Take care!”

And then she nyooms off!

NYOOM!

It’s a good point! I hadn’t considered it but yeah, Monica can just commute. No need to uproot her life to become an Avenger.

I guess that’s why the decision was so easy for her to make.

She-Hulk is still at the window, wishing she could lightspeed to Malibu, when Thor and Janet arrive from court.

Janet thanks Thor for coming to court with her. Which he says no big to because “Time given to one’s friends is well spent. Would that I had given more time to poor Henry before this.”

You’re a cool guy, Thor.

The mention of Hank has Jan break down a little.

Jan: “Oh, Thor! Why has this happened to us... to all of us? We’re Avengers!”

Thor: “But still we are human -- aye, even a ‘god’ such as I! None of us are immune to wounds of the spirit. We err... we misunderstand. Janet? Is there anything more I can do?”

Jan: “No! No... I’m all right! We mustn’t dwell on the past. The future’s all that matters!”

Thor: “But...”

Jan: “I don’t want to talk about it anymore!”

Geez.

We’ve seen how affected the Avengers have been by what Hank has done and what they think he has done. We’ve seen Jan is more messed up by it than the smile she puts on lets on.

But the plaintive questioning of how this could be happening to the Avengers still hits hard.

Thor respects Jan’s wish to end the discussion to the frustration of She-Hulk who has been watching this conversation from the upstairs window.

She’s frustrated that Jan won’t just let it out, that Thor just let the subject drop.

She-Hulk: “It’s that blasted Avengers’ tradition of ‘respecting the privacy of members’ personal affairs.’ The founding members carry it too far! Can’t they see how it hurts them? And Jan -- ? Why does she hold in all that grief and heartache? Why doesn’t she cry and scream and shout and get it out of her system?!”

Jen and Jan are two very different people!

But She-Hulk, and Hulks generally, are about letting your feelings out. And Jan van Wasp has long been about playing the flighty sprite.

I’d crack joke about She-Hulk being this invested in the drama of the Avengers already but Jan is her friend. They presumably went car shopping together.

And She-Hulk has very few friends and almost zero female friends. Her one female friend died in a convoluted car accident and then She-Hulk mostly had a male supporting cast. Thank goodness she’s here on the Avengers with its two whole other women.

Meanwhile, at Stark International, Cap(tain America) has come to pay a visit.

He hasn’t been able to reach Tony in days. And Tony’s secretary told him that Tony has locked himself away in his private lab and that he doesn’t want to see anyone.

But if he didn’t want to see anyone, he should have thought twice about making it so that the security system will let in any Cap that flashes an Avengers ID.

Cap is particularly worried because of that nasty argument they had about Tony dating Jan. Tony has been pretty down since they broke up and Cap doesn’t want to see him fall apart like Hank did.

And.

Tony is. Doing. Maybe not okay.

He’s sweating a lot and unshaven and monomaniacally focused on a project.

Cap finds him holding up an enormous piece of machinery and doing SCIENCE.

This is the final evolution of Tony’s guilty conscience regarding Hank Pym.

Iron Man: “Remember how Moondragon used her mental powers to mess with our heads? Well, it’s my theory that she’s responsible for Hank’s recent troubles! I aim to prove that with this cerebral scanner! This baby should tell us whether or not Hank did the crazy things he did because of some outside mental influence! I hope I’m right!”

I mean, he raises a fair point! I don’t think its the case because what would it have benefited Moondragon to make Hank do what he did? And if its an inadvertent thing, she mind controlled a lot of people when the roster change-up was happening back in #211 so why did only Hank get affected? Plus, it doesn’t really match up with what both Hank and Jan have been saying about his behavior deteriorating before then.

But, Tony is going to Tony. And he, like many fans and writers and editors, just want a simple nonsense explanation that can make a distressing thing go away.

Cap points out that the ginormous machine can’t exactly be dragged down to the courthouse but this is just the prototype. Tony is going to have a miniaturized version ready by Monday.

Cap: “I see. Tony, how long have you been up?”

Iron Man: “I don’t know... 30... 40 hours, maybe. What difference does it make?”

Cap: “It makes plenty! You’ve had some rough sledding lately... You can’t keep on driving yourself this way!”

Iron Man: “But I have to do something for Hank. I feel that I let him down... In so many ways.”

Cap: “You can’t help him if you kill yourself in the process!”

Tony is going to Tony. I think that in some ways he might have a more overdeveloped guilt complex than Peter Parker or Matt Murdock.

For Reasons, I’ve taken a look at how things are going in the Iron Man book around this time and oof. Poor Tony.

Over in Leonia, New Jersey, Vision and Scarlet Witch are watching the trial coverage on the news and-

Okay.

1.) How do you make watching the network news so moody and dramatic, Vision? Do you ever actually relax?

2.) Do you two just wear your costumes around the house? Surely you must have other clothes? Vision? Do you have other clothes?

Some other stuff is that Wanda has been holding up Jan and Hank as the ideal marriage so this whole thing has been weirding her out. Although Vision has had a less rosy opinion of it, having been there for it with all of the marrying the split personality nonsense involved.

Although I don’t know why issue #68 is referenced. I don’t think that had anything to do with anything. Issue #60 is where the wedding happened.

Bet whoever put that caption wishes they had access to the internet.

I kind of wish we got more stuff like earlier, got to see Avengers not currently on the team and other heroes that worked with Hank Pym reacting to his disgrace exit from the team and then arrest. Wish we could have had Vision and Wanda try to visit him in jail.

Meanwhile, Long Island Sound.

A LOCATION OF EVIL

A suited man arrives and knocks on 13308 McKinley.

He is Dr. Chen Lu and he is expected.

Moonstone/Dr. Karla Sofen meets Dr. Chen Lu at the door and shows him in to the secret science basement where Egghead is running an experiment with the latest scientific equipment that can be begged, borrowed, or stolen.

I’m figuring... mostly stolen? Right? Like Egghead’s plan was to steal all the resources he needed? Because, ugh Effort?

Moonstone interrupts Egghead to let him know Dr. Chen Lu has arrived and Egghead is thrilled! He rushes from his seat to shake his hand.

And the sentiment is returned by Dr. Chen Lu who is eager to join Egghead’s project.

Y’know, Egghead is a jerk and is stealing all of his resources but his project will hugely improve medical science and he’s getting criminal scientists off the street and into some actual science jobs they can be excited about.

Dr. Chen asks how Egghead isn’t dead because he was pretty sure he was told Egghead was dead. And Egghead sure has a tale to tell!

In Defender #43, Egghead set up Cobalt Man to reach critical mass and explode to distract the Defenders so he could steal a magical star. When Cobalt Man found out, he was pretty pissed and decided to blow up Egghead.

Egghead: “We had a bit of a falling out, you might say... and he ended the situation most dramatically. Witnesses actually assumed we’d both perished. In actuality, I had been teleported by an experimental mechanism to relative safety in the New Jersey swamps... and unlike death, one can usually return from the state of New Jersey!”

Damn, Egghead! Criminal genius that you are, you’ve found the only New Jersey joke I’ve ever laughed at! Fiend!

I think its the glasses adjusting what does it.

Anyway, Egghead’s and Dr. Chen’s cool conversation gets interrupted by Tiger Shark and Shocker bursting through the ceiling fighting.

Beetle flies in after them and apologizes for the mess but says ‘really Shocker had it coming, man, fuck Shocker.’

Beetle and Moonstone jump in to separate the two.

Hey, you might be wondering how the Masters of Evil are out of jail when last time we saw them was getting arrested after attacking the Avengers like dumbasses?

Check that panel where Iron Man is lifting a really heavy thing. There’s a news broadcast about a bunch of prison escapes. Good job on the same issue setup, Stern!

Shocker complains that Tiger Shark called him a two-bit hood but Tiger Shark says in his defense that Shocker IS a two-bit hood (Not inaccurate...) who nearly screwed up the isotope heist. But Egghead says that Shocker is an important part of the operation.

Then Tiger Shark notices Dr. Chen Lu and says a slur.

C’mon, guy. Don’t be like that.

Dr. Chen Lu: “Speaking without thinking seems to be second nature to you, Tiger Shark. In the interest of our future partnership, I shall excuse the insult to my race... this time! But I warn you, do not use that word in my presence again, or you shall answer to -- THE RADIOACTIVE MAN!”

Tiger Shark hurriedly says that obviously he didn’t mean to offend. Because Dr. Chen Lu Radioactive Man fwooshed into his green skin (dammit comics whats with you and Asian people and green skin?) radioactive form and costume.

But with Radioactive Man on the team, the Masters of Evil are finally complete and ready for the next step of EGGHEAD’S BOLD PLAN.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye returns to his apartment from his day job, kind of looking a steady paycheck in the mouth. Sure the big wad of bucks is nice but its sooo boring. Thank goodness he has Avengersing to keep things exciting.

He then sings a short bit about “Best of both worlds -- !” because Hawkeye.

Hawkeye sees the news broadcast about the Hank Pym trial and even though he hasn’t been called to testify (because he wasn’t part of the team when Hank was caught with his hands in the government’s cookie jar) he figures what the heck, he’ll go to the trial anyway to show moral support.

And he does! In full costume!

In fairness, so are Thor and Captain America.

I guess Captain America and Hawkeye don’t have publicly revealed identities. But they couldn’t have thrown a suit on Thor?

Please put Thor in a suit. For reasons.

She-Hulk and Wasp are wearing nice court clothes.

Although She-Hulk seems uncomfortable in her nice court clothes.

(By the by, She-Hulk showing up at all makes Hawkeye warm up to her a little, since he figures that in her own way she cares about being an Avenger as much as he does.)

By the way, notice who wasn’t in that picture? Hawkeye leans over to whisper to Cap where is Iron Man? Annnnd Cap thinks maybe he just got wrapped up in his cerebral scanner project.

At this point in the trial (day 4), Hank has finally been called up to the stand to testify on his own behalf.

So, of course, given Hank Pym’s luck, the courtroom explodes.

What a dynamite conclusion to this arc!

The Masters of Evil (Moonstone, Radioactive Man, Tiger Shark, Shocker, and Beetle) jump into the court through the exploded ceiling, grab Hank Pym, have Shocker blow up the load bearing wall, and then run out while the Avengers are distracted holding up the entire ceiling!

An action scene fast enough that I can believe, yes, the Avengers didn’t have time to react to it before it happened.

But Thor is strong enough to hold up the ceiling, so Wasp orders Cap to get the crowd to safety and has She-Hulk and Hawkeye follow her to go after the Masters.

Cap: “Jan’s really coming into her own as group leader! Even Hawkeye’s snapping to at her orders!”

Good. I’m glad that people keep telling me that Wasp is doing a good job as Avengers leader.

Seriously. Given the way that the Avengers book handles teamwork and the idea that the Avengers even have a leader sometimes, I’m glad that the book is explicitly conveying that Wasp is doing good.

Hawkeye net-arrows Tiger Shark, She-Hulk tackles Radioactive Man, Wasp confronts Beetle, and nobody confronts Shocker because its just Shocker.

Beetle scoffs at Wasp trying to stop him but has to eat his words pretty soon. Her Wasp stings being souped up in this recent stretch of comics hasn’t stopped being a thing.

Beetle: “Ow! Maybe I was the one who spoke too soon! Even with my armor, I can feel a little of the Wasp’s bio-stings! If I can’t shake her, she might blow my micro-circuits!”

Very glad that Wasp continues to be an effective fighter in her own right and not just the distraction ‘fly around and pester people.’

She-Hulk just throws Radioactive Man out of the panel, mocking him for being green as her without any of her sweet moves.

Tiger Shark wants another go at She-Hulk after the way she stomped him in #222 but.

Oops guess I shouldn’t have mocked Shocker. Since he was ignored, he can sneak up behind She-Hulk and use HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCKS to rattle her bones to dust.

Except, no. I should have mocked Shocker, a little.

Because even though the HIGH INTENSITY VIBRO-SHOCK rattles She-Hulk so that she chatters out “T-t-think a-a-again, y-y-you w-w-walking q-q-quilt!”, she grabs Shocker’s hands and holds him up in the air for Hawkeye to short out Shocker’s gauntlets with a couple of magno-volt arrows.

Shocker crumples, confused because one of the other Masters was supposed to be covering Hawkeye.

Radioactive Man tackles She-Hulk so She-Hulk just belts him away.

So Radioactive Man concedes, well, okay, She-Hulk is stronger than him. But brute force and being green aren’t the extent of his powers. He’s also radioactive, radioactive. 

He hits She-Hulk with a controlled burst of gamma rays, which shifts her back into Jennifer Walters.

Hey, Jen! First time you’ve appeared in this book in this form.

She’s less than pleased. In fact, she starts screaming “No! Not this!!” and begging someone to help her.

Thankfully, the Masters put her out of mind as not a problem anymore.

And the dominoes fall.

Tiger Shark smacks Wasp out of the air, freeing Beetle to blast Hawkeye. And nobody can stop Moonstone from nerve pinching Hank Pym and pulling him into a truck.

Thor and Cap run out of the courthouse, presumably having gotten everyone to safety.

Thor: “Ho, villains! You’ve not won the day yet! Not as long as a single Avenger stands!”

Thor do what Thor do and what Thor do is throw Mjolnir.

Exceppppt its at Radioactive Man and Radioactive Man can still deflect Mjolnir with energy fields. Radiation can do that. Mjolnir doesn’t exist in real life so we can’t prove that radiation can’t do that.

Radioactive Man deflects Mjolnir right at Captain America. He gets his shield up in time but it still knocks him on his ass.

The Masters all book it into the truck while the Avengers get to their feet.

Wasp orders Hawkeye to shoot out the tires to the truck. But before he can and before it can be fruitless, a getaway truck explodes out of the truck and flies off more quickly than the Avengers can chase.

And by “the Masters all book it into the truck” I mean, “except Shocker” because they ditched him.

With the Masters escaped, Wasp turns on the shocked Shocker and rips off his mask and demands he tell them where the Masters are going.

But the shocked Shocker is too shocked to answer. He seems out of it, really.

So Wasp changes the question. Who is behind this? Why did they want to kidnap Hank Pym?

Shocker: “Why? It... it was his idea! Dr. Pym’s idea... He arranged for us to free him!”

DUN DUN DUUUUU- no wait we know thats not it

whats your game shocker

Sometime later, Hank Pym wakes up in Egghead’s lab. And, of course, immediately leaps up to kick the shit out of Egghead as soon as he sees him.

Alas, Tiger Shark holds him back.

Egghead: “Don’t restrain him too tightly, Tiger Shark! He’s of no use to us injured!”

Hank Pym: “I’ll ‘use’ you, Egghead! You’re responsible for ruining my life! You manipulated me into stealing that government adamantium... and set me up, when your scheme failed! You’re mad if you think you can make me help you now!”

Egghead: “Pish-tosh!”

Good rejoinder, Egghead.

God, this also cracks me up.

Egghead says that he’s in the middle of a great experiment and that he needs the world’s greatest biochemist, Hank Pym.

Hank is still on the ‘why the hell do you think I’ll help you, I hate you so much.’

So Egghead has the tv turned on.

Anchorman, Non Burgundy: “... Authorities were stunned by the news that Dr. Pym had planned his own abduction! The Avengers refused to comment on the Shocker’s confession, but polygraph experts confirmed --”

Egghead explains that Shocker was a patsy. His gauntlets were secretly rewired with special circuits that brainwashed him into believing what Egghead wanted him to. So thoroughly that it fooled a lie detector.

Egghead: “As far as the world is concerned, Henry, you are now most assuredly a criminal. No one will believe otherwise. Not the police... not even your former friends. You have no one to turn to in this world... except us! Join the Masters of Evil, Henry! We will give you a new life!”

Hank Pym: “All right... I’ll do it!”

DUN DUN DUN!!

Wow, so I guess Egghead wasn’t just being petty. He was also systematically destroying what little was left of Hank’s life to force him to work on SCIENCE project with him.

Proving his innocence and ‘getting his dignity back’ was all Hank had left to him.

Geez, sucks to be Hank Pym!

Psst, follow @essential-avengers​? Like and reblog?

[like-rain-or-confetti]

High School Reunions (Heidi Volturi x Reader)

You groaned again. You dreaded this day even the very first moment you were officially no longer in high school. High school reunions weren't fun, nor completely friendly from what you knew. You'd be surrounded by your year group who had gone off to do major and minuscule things and the many things that sat in between. Maybe there would be doctors and lawyers but there'd also be those who would be considered failing at life. That category had no discrimination. Married? Kids? Stable job? Salary? Vacations? How many cars? The thousands upon thousands of contacts people would promise to get in touch with to help an old friend when in reality they'd do no such thing and instead leech off of the gossip and ego boost. It was a competition, who did life better? You wanted no part in it but you couldn't just simply not go. That would be so much worse. The gossip would thrive! However, you had nothing to 'show off', nothing in your eyes anyway. Nothing is ever enough in this game and you were content with what you had. However, that didn't mean you weren't affected by judgement. 

Emmett nudged you. "Cheer up lil' human." He teased. "It won't be as bad as you think!" "It'll be worse." You grumbled into your hands. "At least you don't have to re-live highschool." Emmett grinned. You jumped slightly hearing Heidi's heels clicking behind you. You had forgotten the Volturi were visiting the Cullen's for a full ten minutes after receiving the invite to the reunion. "What's wrong?" Heidi smiled brightly. "(Y/N) has a high school reunion to go to." Emmett grinned at you. Heidi hummed, intrigued. "What's that exactly?" She twirled a lick of curled hair between her fingers, head tilting slightly. "Hell." You sighed. "I meet up with my year group for a reunion. The idea is innocent, but in actuality it's a sea of adults flaunting their successes like it's a competition." Heidi hummed. "What's so bad about that?" "It's condescending! I'll be around people with high paid jobs, massive houses and many cars and married with hundreds of kids!" You paused. "So maybe not hundreds of kids but you know what I mean." "I do, but you can flaunt too. That's the fun in it." Heidi leaned over the counter slightly in front of you as though you had her full attention. Her red eyes boring into yours.  "I don't flaunt. I don't have anything to flaunt. I'm not married, I don't have kids and I don't have an amazing mansion or a fancy car or any of that stuff. I'm just me and that wasn't enough in high school." You sighed. "I had a tough time in school, other kids weren't...friendly toward me." Heidi narrowed her eyes slightly, quiet for a moment. "When is it?" "Three days away." "I'll go with you. Tell them we're engaged or that we're married. Flaunt me all you like. In return, I get to feed on one of them- my choice." 

Heidi was very attractive, it was her gift. Humans nor vampires could resist her. You were no exception but your guilt set in quickly. "I couldn't do that. You're not an object-" "I'm not asking, sweetie. It'll be fun! I get to feed and enjoy a little revenge and you get to be on the winning team. It's a win-win." That's how it began and she kept true to her word. 

Your jaw hit the floor. Heidi was gorgeous. You weren't surprised when she had chosen a red dress. Her curled hair perfectly framing her face and her make-up was perfect. More notably, she wore a very expensive looking ring on her ring finger. That must have been the 'engagement ring' . "Ready to knock 'em dead?" Heidi smirked seductively. Your heart was racing and you weren't entirely sure of your response. No words coming to mind. "Well one of them more literally." She winked, looping her arm in yours. 

The punches rolled in immediately. You barely arrived and were immediately greeted by Hayley. She was the head cheerleader and was a nice person, soft spoken but her company were vicious. So much so that many didn't speak to her just so they wouldn't have to endure her group of friends. "Hi! (Y/N), yeah?" You nodded. "Yeah." "Oh you look great! It's so good to see you!" You chuckled nervously before attempting to divert the attention from yourself. "Hayley, this is Heidi. She's my-" You stumbled, bit entirely certain of what to call her. Luckily Heidi didn't skip a beat, leaning into your side. "I'm their fiancee. It's so nice to meet you." Hayley looked taken aback. There was a brief second she looked enamored my Heidi before shaking herself out of her daze. "You look lovely tonight! Congratulations on your engagement. That's very exciting!" "It is!" Heidi mirrored Hayley's pleasant and polite smile, although Heidi seemed more enthusiastic. Heidi raised her hand, showing the ring. "I'm very lucky to have gotten such a great catch." You stifled a laugh at the dark humour, her job was considered 'fishing' after all. Hayley seemed to look you over slightly, before her eyes moving back to Heidi. Hayley seemed to be judging that statement for herself. "It's beautiful! I'm afraid I must be going, so many people to see! I'll be sure to catch you soon!" You looked at Heidi who turned to look back at you. "I'm very good at this game." She smirked. "She doesn't think I'm good enough for you. I've seen that look a million times." Heidi scoffed. "I bet she thinks a lot of things. I do too but there is a distinct difference between people like me and her." "What's that?" You asked. "I have the guts to say them." Heidi twirled a lock of hair as her eyes travelled around the room. You eyed a few familiar faces around the room. "Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we should go." "No, we had a deal. Besides, I've got your back. You don't need to worry. We're going to show them how wrong they are about you." "Promise me you have my back." You said quickly as you locked eyes with someone who made their way towards you. "Promise." 

"(Y/N) (L/N), I cannot believe it!" The blonde slightly overweight man grinned, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, a darker haired and scrawny man followed behind him closely. The blonde was your old classmate Tommy. You remembered how lovely he was and that he was the theatre kid. He lived and breathed theatres and knew just about every single musical every written. "This is my husband Theodore!" Tommy gestured to the dark haired man who offered a small smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I knew it was you! I told him! I told you Theo!" You smiled at Tommy. He seemed genuinely glad to see you. Then again, Tommy was always a good guy. "This is my fiancee, Heidi." You felt a little guilt about lying to Tommy but this was how it has to be. You couldn't go back now. Heidi greeted the couple. "Tell me everything!" Tommy said in delight. "I want to know everything I've missed!" You told him of your job and the real details of your life. Heidi was quick, creating the story of how you both first met and how Heidi fell for you immediately. After a couple of years you proposed. She gave such a convincing story that even you forgot she was talking about you and that you hadn't done anything of these things. 

You weren't sure if Tommy and Heidi got on well naturally of if Heidi was just playing along. "Well, in the summer time we hope to finally bring our little girl home permanently. We're finalising the papers." Tommy grinned and even Theodore cracked a smile. "You're adopting? That's amazing, Tommy. Congrats." "I know, I always wanted a daughter! What about you two? Any kids?" "Actually-" Heidi wrapped her arms over your shoulders. "None yet but I'm sure there will be one or two not long after the wedding." Heidi went even further planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

 Heidi's eyes shifted to a woman before nudging you. "Who is that over there?" "Oh... That is Jessica. Why?" "Because I'm trying to listen to everyone's boring lives and all I can hear is her shrill voice shrieking about her golden child who can do no wrong." "Oh...well it looks like she's coming this way." Heidi exhaled slowly, you could tell Jessica aggravated her. "Hello there!" Jessica sang. "My, how you've changed!" Her eyes moved up and down your body making you hold back a shiver.  You remembered Jessica to be a snob, much like her parents. You tried to avoid her as much as possible during school. She always wanted to flaunt and that got annoying after ten minutes. "Tommy tells me there is possible little ones in your future! Good for you! And congratulations on your engagement!" Of course Tommy told her. Anyone would give up any information to divert her attention from them and onto someone else. "Yes, perhaps after the wedding." Heidi said sweetly, sickeningly sweet. It had to be intentional but you couldn't tell her that Jessica had no kind of radar for such hints to back off. "We're waiting until I'm more financially secure." You played along in hopes of settling any tension with Heidi. You were practically saving Jessica's life in your eyes. "I'm hoping a promotion is in the near future for me. A lot of my money has went to the wedding." "Oh I wish I had time for a job!" Jessica swooned. "I simply don't have time for that. I have a little one of my own, she's seven and quite possibly a genius! Naturally all my time goes to her and I'm absolutely exhausted! Oh how she's worth it though. My extraordinary child. Any other parent would be jealous!" Heidi hummed pleasantly but it was very forced. Anyone but Jessica could see it.  "(Y/N) works for the government. I want a big white wedding and my (Y/N) made my dreams come true! Now we hope to have children after the wedding and put some money away for private schooling. We'll have to be careful though in timing." Heidi pulled you closer to her, wrapping an arm around you. "I'd like to enjoy (Y/N) myself without any interruptions. Oh the things they can do!" Your jaw dropped. "Heidi!" "Honey, I promised I wouldn’t talk about your position in the government since it's a secret. You never said I couldn't talk about you." Jessica chuckled slightly uncomfortable. "Well if you excuse me..." 

"Really? Implying sex? Really?" Your eyes were wide. "She was insufferable before she came over here, I did you a favour. I said it because she's recently divorced and is very jealous of every couple here." Heidi paused. "Besides if she said rammed one more brag about her child in our faces I'd expect she'd pull the child out of her bag and trying to force her down our throats. Children are not that special, I don't care who you are." You sighed before a thought occurred to you. "I don't think I've ever heard anyone say something like that about their child. She just promised us a prodigy." "That's because she's insecure in herself, she's trying to show everyone she's a great mother who's managing perfectly her divorce from her husband who likely got bored of her long ago." "Maybe she is coping well." "Perhaps, but no one copes perfectly. That's the difference. She doesn't want a single crack to show and I bet on the inside she is one more crack away from falling to pieces." "I feel like everyone has it put together but me." Heidi snorted. "Are you kidding? Look. See Hayley over there? She went from everyone's perfect princess and now has nothing to show for it. She's learned she's normal like the rest of us. Tommy, no doubt has his issues with his husband because he couldn’t stress enough that his life was perfect along with his marriage. Even with the right person, marriages aren't always easy. I've made my case with that Jessica over there already." Heidi turned to look at you. "Everyone here is miserable and insecure and trying to pretend they aren't. They feel they have something to prove just like you do. As soon as they leave here, they'll be ripping one another apart just to make themselves feel better...it's a little cute if you ask me." Heidi finished with a smile. 

You suddenly stifled with a gasp. Liam. The ringleader of all bullies was in front of you and heading your way with a sickening smirk. You were his favourite to torment and judging by the smile he gave you, they're wouldn't be much difference. Liam looked down at you, a good head taller than you. "(Y/N) (L/N). I didn't expect you'd make it. We all know what you're like around...people." He smirked and you couldn't bring yourself to respond. "Who's this? How much did you pay her to go with you, hm?" Heidi's nostrils flared before she responded. "I'm their fiancee." She said sweetly, holding up her ring. "Has to be a fake. This moron can barely tie their own shoes never mind get you a ring like that." He snorted. Then his eyes ran up and down Heidi, the sight making your skin crawl. "Let me know when this one bores you princess. I can show you a better time." As soon as he left, you exhaled. "Can we go?" You asked Heidi. "No." She said looking at Liam who had walked away. "Why?" "Because I found my meal." "Him? Really? He might make you sick. I think he has tar for blood." "Oh no, he's the one." She said smoothly. "That's the one who gave you a rough time?" "Yeah, but it doesn't matter, let's just go-" "We'll stay for another half an hour. Right now, let's get you a drink." 

Heidi kept you distracted for the next twenty minutes, talking about everything and anything with you as you sipped on your drink. She even reassured you that you were the better catch than Liam...the pun was intended. "Listen honey, I'd spend my time with you before him. He's the type of guy who doesn't have a brain." She tilted her head almost adoringly in his direction. "He's a loser." "That's...not a compliment." "It's not supposed to be honey. Anyway, say your goodbyes. I'm going to get my meal. I'll meet you outside in ten minutes." She kissed you cheek before leaving. She didn't have to go so far in this act but you wouldn't complain. 

You moved away from your original position to see Heidi brush past Liam and giving him a seductive smile, all the while nodding at him to follow her. Liam had no problems and immediately complied. 

You left exactly ten minutes later, saying your final goodbyes to Tommy before Heidi turned the corner, smiling. "Darling, I was just checking the car. Are you ready to go?" Tommy was quick to pull you into a hug. "It was great seeing you (Y/N), remember to add my number! I'd love to hear from you again soon!" You nodded with a smile. "Bye, Tommy." There was something oddly sad about the situation. You already missed him and didn't know why. Perhaps he represented normal human life. Ever since you've known about vampires, your life hasn't been normal. An adjective you missed greatly. Heidi's cold hand slipping into yours broke you out of your thoughts before she lightly pulled you away. You offered a wave to Tommy as Heidi called back that it was lovely to have met him. "Your hand is freezing." You mumbled. "Would you like me to let go?" "No, it was way too hot in there, the cold is welcomed." Heidi smiled in response. "Did you...is he alive?" You asked. "No, he isn't." Heidi said simply. "He was delicious, just the right amount of Karma too " 

Heidi walked you to the Cullen door before kissing your cheek. You blushed immediately. "You were a lovely date tonight and I'm happy to have helped you. Perhaps you should take me out more often." She winked.

[ariesfm-blog]

            hi ! my name is link ! i go by he / they pronouns , am 21+ & live in the cst timezone ! i’m an obnoxious aries & this is my idiot , max , who also happens to be an obnoxious aries because i believe in writing what i know JHGKFDLHLF . i’m really excited to be here , because plotless slice of life rps are my thing & i’m excited to get to know all of you & write with you !!! under the cut you’ll find misc. info & some wanted connections , but here are links to his stats page & his pinterest board , which hopefully will give you some extra insight . feel free to like this if you’d like to plot .but if you wanna plot on d*scord ( which is easier for me ) you can add me @ demogorgon ramsay#0039 !

( johnny seo, cismale, he/him ) who is that ? oh, it’s just MAXWELL “MAX” BAE the TWENTY-FOUR year old has been in beauhart for HIS WHOLE LIFE and is currently a BARTENDER. i’ve heard they can be CONFIDENT and HONEST, but also IMPATIENT and BRASH. maybe that’s why their anthem is SANCTUARY by JOJI and CAFFEINE JITTERS, DIRTY CONVERSE PAIRED WITH ALIEN SOCKS, PHONE NUMBERS WRITTEN ON NAPKINS makes me think of them.

misc. info : ( cw : mentions of death & drug use )

his mother died giving birth to him. though he doesn’t remember her ( obviously ) he still holds a bit of guilt & think it’s his fault that she died. but his dad is always quick to snuff that line of thought & holds absolutely no ill will towards max about it

all he’s ever heard is good things about her so he loves her or the idea of her really. he likes to imagine himself in the stories people tell him about her & it’s a comfort to him. it makes him feel like he kind of grew up with her even though he never got to meet her

his dad is a sweet person. full of laughs & kindness. also bad jokes ( this is where max gets his own humor from ). he’s the kind of dad that people wish for. he’s always been supportive of max no matter what & he listens to him whenever he needs it

when they were little they played catch & watched yu-gi-oh together. max still has all his yu-gi-oh cards stuffed in his closet somewhere. now they’re more likely to sit on his dad’s front porch & drink together while listening to music

his dad has never dated or remarried after his wife died because that was his soulmate & he doesn’t want to settle for anyone else & his dad has always told max to find that one person for him

max was miserable in school. he wasn’t good at it & none of it made any sense to him. so he struggled in graduating high school. & he tried college but he couldn’t stand it so he dropped out thankfully with no negative feedback from his dad

he’s kind of anxious & fidgety so it’s hard for him to pay attention ( anxiety & adhd nation make some noise !!! ) but if he gets focused on a project he’ll ignore his need to eat or anything else to work on it

he picked up making drinks from his dad at a young age ( imagine a twelve year old making cocktails that’s basically how it was ) & is really good at it so naturally he became a bartender. it’s not his dream job per se but he enjoys it a lot & makes good tips from it so he has no complaints about it

basically he’s pretty happy-go-lucky but he’s also an idiot & annoying about it. he can seem friendly enough at first but once you get close to him he’ll turn up that aries personality & get on your nerves ( but he’s also like a leech & will stick to you )

he’s really into aliens. he even has a ufo tattoo ! he will fight with anyone who doesn’t believe in them ( or cryptids or the supernatural in general ). the x-files is his favorite show & he wishes to be fox mulder every day of his life. he’s also a diehard boogara

he’s a big conspiracy theorist. he believes in lizard people, the illuminati & that queen elizabeth is a cannibal & that’s how she’s stayed alive for so long. he’s very paranoid about stuff. he’s one of those people who read the terms & conditions on everything so that he doesn’t agree to some company stealing his dna & selling it on the dark web. he also refuses to pick up the phone because he thinks the government is listening in on them ( he only makes calls when he’s high & out of it )

& he loves true crime. he’s always listening to true crime podcasts & watching true crime docs

he loves energy drinks & coffee. he drinks them so much that he’s shaking about 75% of the day but he never listens when people tell him he’s gonna get a heart attack

he’s messy. his apartment is messy. his hair is messy. his entire energy is just messy. but he thinks his personality makes up for it

he can kinda cook but honestly he’s lazy & just prefers to order in food 95% of the time. also he has a bad habit of forgetting stuff like he’ll turn the oven on then get distracted then wonder what the weird smell in his place is

for the most part he’s nice but he does participate in “friendly” dragging. if you’re friends he will clown you & sometimes he can hurt someone’s feelings even when he doesn’t mean to ( more than likely he will not apologize for it he’ll just ignore it til the other person gets over it hopefully )

always losing his headphones. he settles for those crappy $5 earbuds that you find at dollar stores so he won’t feel bad for losing them anymore. honestly he loses everything. who knows how many sets of keys he’s gone through

he’s super clumsy. always tripping, always running into stuff. he’s broken a million glasses at the bar

he’s pretty flirty, pretty charming. he uses it to his advantage at the bar, draws in customers in order to get tips & phone numbers

he’s a soft thot. he’s easy to sleep with but he’s kind & caring about all his partners

he’s a really good boyfriend & he falls in love easily,  but he’s forgetful & accidentally negligent sometimes. like he’ll go days without responding to texts or checking up on people. he doesn’t mean to he just does

he loves pins, patches & colorful socks. everything he wears is covered in them. most of the things he wears aren’t even related to his interests because people just give them random things & he wears them anyway

he can never open jars his beefy arms are useless

a fan of punny humor. he’s the king of dad jokes

he’s that person who puts his legs up on the dash of the car or hangs them out the window

wishes he knew how to skateboard but doesn’t even know how to ride a bike

takes in random cats & dogs he finds on the street. sometimes he tries to find their owners & sometimes he doesn’t but it’s fine

he’s addicted to those edited audios that are like “( song ) but you’re listening to it in the bathroom at a party & you’re crying because you’re alone” & he’s obsessed with joji so of course those are his favorite 

he’s one of those pansexuals who call themselves gay constantly 

uses uwu in texts to be ironic & annoying. most of his words have w replacing certain letters to sound like a smol

he gets stoned at like three am & tries to call people & ask them stupid high people questions like “if two vegans fight is it still called beef”

he’s also never left beauheart or gone too far away. just a few cities at most. he has a bit of a stoner paranoia about it. like if he leaves the state something bad will happen to him or his dad or loved ones

he’s terrified of horror movies. especially ones with clowns. he refuses to watch them because he’s convinced that he’ll accidentally summon a demon or a ghost through osmosis or something JHGDLFKGHD

wanted connections :

rooommates ( one or two )

exes ( any gender. it can be messy or friendly. i’m willing to have max be the issue though with him it’ll always be baby issues since he’s nice & a tryhard JGHKFDHFKGFD )

hookups / fwbs ( any gender. singular experiences or regular type things )

childhood plots for those who’ve lived in beauheart ( childhood friends, first kisses / crushes, all that good stuff )

high school sweethearts

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

one-sided crushes ( don’t mind who has the feelings ! )

mutual pining but they’re both idiots & have no idea

party buddies. conspiracy theory buddies. true crime buddies. any of these can be combined

tinder date ( it can go well or not )

frequent customers ( better yet, frequent customers that he flirts with. give me the cliche phone number on napkins plot)

maybe you don’t tip him for whatever reason & he’s had a bad day & he’s like “bro wtf”

teach him how to ride a bike KJFDHSLGJF

maybe you try to get him to leave beauheart & you have to deal with his crybaby ramblings about how something bad will happen

beef with him over the existence of supernatural things

be the person he calls at three am after eating too many edibles & deal with his stoned questions

try to make him watch a horror movie

for someone newer to town: be that person who makes a “your mom” joke & have to deal with that awkward “my mom’s dead” conversation

maybe he “accidentally” stole your cat or dog & you try to get it back but he doesn’t believe that it’s yours even though you clearly have proof

maybe you’re the person who always ends up finding the stuff he loses & you’re stuck in this constant act of returning & you’re tired of it

literally anything you can think of i’m probably down for it

[injoonies-aliens]

Student!Mark

The party hard senior who was still true to himself and his friends

He was so ready for the real world, but still made sure he was in tune with where he came from.

Always made sure his younger friends had someone to go to for advice on their years to come in hell highschool

Doesn't openly show affection towards his friends because they're in younger grades (at least in public)

Still makes sure they're comfortable and knows they're wanted around...even if it's just to hang out in the Senior parking lot and brag to all the other under classmen

Doesn't mind being looked up to as a role model because it makes him rethink everything he does and how it would look to his friends

An overly fatherly figure sometimes

He tells one of them to go home and finish homework before coming to hang out

Yet he still hangs loose and let's the boys drive his baby car for the monthly road trip they take together

Makes sure they all are okay at all times and they're not hurt

Still does the head count in secret and has a mini heart attack when Hyuck runs to the bathroom without saying anything

"A music video?" Mark asked, just to make sure he didn't misunderstand.

The boys had hopeful gleams in their eyes and a pleading expression across their faces.

"Yeah okay sure," Mark said and they got ready to celebrate.

"over my dead body." Mark slammed his locker closed and they all groaned -- drawing attention from other seniors walking down the Senior Hallway.

"Oh come on. We're only going to the train tracks to shoot one scene. And then you can drop us off at home and go on your way and go to your old man job or something." Hyuck waved off the last part.

"No! The train tracks?! Get out of here!" Mark said and they all bummed out.

Mark began walking away but came back to justify something.

"And making floral arrangements at the flower shop is not an old man job! It's art!" Mark said to Hyuck's face and stomped away.

"Yeah, for women in their 70's!" Hyuck screamed one last attack.

~~~~~~~~

"One scene. 20 minutes. Then you're all going home." Mark said as he walked by the lunch table filled with his friends.

"I got a date tonight." Mark wiggled his eyebrows.

All the boys slapped him on the back except one;

"So I guess Grandma Edith from the flower boutique finally returned your calls?"

Everyone snapped their heads to Hyuck who sat their sassily with his chin resting in his palm.

Mark cocked an eyebrow, "what did you say?"

"He said he wishes you luck and we'll see you at 8." Renjun said as he got up and dragged Hyuck out of the Cafeteria by the ear.

"And now a speech from an Honor Graduate: Mark Lee." The principal introduced

The crowd was quiet except for the 6 other boys sitting in the crowd that were being too loud.

"I KNOW THAT GUY!!"

"HE'S MY BEST FRIEND!"

"GET OFF THE STAGE!"

"DON'T FORGET US MAN!"

Mark motioned for them to shut up, and everyone chuckled at his actions.

"Friends, faculty, families, and everyone else who is present today: Welcome. Welcome to the last day of this chapter, but the beginning of anew." Mark read and everyone smiled and were waiting for the intelligent man to continue.

"Ya know...I never thought I would be standing on this stage giving this speech. I didn't even think I would finish highschool at some points." Mark admitted

"But I can thank today to my teachers, family, and most importantly my friends." Mark said motioning to the different mentioned people.

"Yes, the group of boys who decided it upon themselves to make themselves known before I could even begin talking...those boys." Everyone chuckled.

Hyuck, Renjun, and Jaemin held up hearts while Jisung tried to hide himself from the attention.

"Now you're probably thinking: Mark...why are you friends with under classmen?? You're a senior...right??" Mark said and some actually wanted to know why.

"Well...at some times I wonder that too...but then I realise that I would be lost without them." The boys perked up, hearing Mark finally talk about how much they mean to him.

"They found me and leeched onto me when I couldn't find myself. I was cutting class, skipping school in general, and getting in fights...I'm not proud of it...but I'm proud of myself for admitting it; because their are some people who want to bury their high school life so deep inside their memories that they can't remember things even if they wanted to."

"...they lose themselves more..."

"But I found myself again...thanks to those 6 dorks sitting right over there." Mark chuckled, and everyone could see the gloss in his eyes.

"They taught me that I need to look after them...but also myself." Mark cleared his throat.

"They taught me patience, leniency, and discipline." Mark counted on his fingers.

"I went from letting them drive around with me at 2 in the morning to not letting them get near my car without getting their homework done."

"And I realized how much I rubbed off on them...but much more how they rubbed off on me."

"Because I sometimes forget that I am an 18 year old in highschool and not a 28 year old dad." Mark scratched his neck as everyone laughed.

"But sometimes we need to come from a rougher past to set out on a steadier future." He got more serious.

"Nothing will be easy in life. Not even pumping gas, have you seen those prices?!" Everyone laughed again.

"No but really. I'm not promising an easy future for any of us." Mark was talking in a room full of a people, but made eye contact with his closest friends.

"We're all going to a hit a bump in the road that we were never prepared for...but we need to strap in and understand that these 18 years is what have prepared us for those types of things."

"From cramming for Mr. Kim's bio test an hour before, to cramming a stock write up to have it on your boss' desk in 20 minutes...everything shifts."

"But we adapt, overcome, and conquer these battles...for there are people around you to help you when you feel like you can't get up again."

Hyuck quickly wipes a tear as he blames it on allergies.

Hyuck: "That damn pollen."

Renjun: "...this is a winter graduation..."

"There's someone just a shout away..."

"...just don't forget the way I called you. Because I hope it always stays like this..."

Applause erupted as Mark took his seat again.

~~~~~~~~~

"Mark Lee. Attending Seoul National University in their English Language and Literature Department."

The 6 groups of boys start crying together.

Mark was supposed to be studying in the States...but this was unlike anything they could've asked for.

They got on their feet and cheered as loud as they could for their friend walking across the stage.

"Well I guess this it." Chenle said as he closed Mark's trunk.

"Dude...I'm moving closer to all of you." Mark rolled his eyes as he made sure it was fully closed.

"Can you not let me have one moment?!" Chenle argued and Mark couldn't help messing up the younger boys hair.

"I'm gonna miss seeing you guys crowding around my locker." Mark pinched Jeno's cheek.

"Then I guess we'll crowd your apartment till you get home..." Hyuck shrugged.

"You leave us with no choice." Jaemin added on and everyone played along.

"Haha. No. Didn't say that." Mark laughed as he put a hat on his head.

"So what's your roommate's name?" Jisung asked and Mark shrugged.

"Wong Yukhei, but I've been texting him and he goes by Lucas." Mark fixes his hat in the window of his car.

"Seems...fishy." Renjun raised is eyebrows.

"No. No conspiracies. He's my age, he's from Hong Kong and he's in the physical fitness department. He's a regular boy." Mark cut Renjun off.

"...that's what the government wants you to think..."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

Mark rolled his eyes and looked at his friends.

"I'm not replacing you guys, if that's what you think." He said and they stayed silent as they looked at each other.

"I'm still gonna drive you guys everywhere and boss you guys around to do homework. Makes sure Renjun flosses near his braces. Makes sure Jeno wears a mask around his cats. Make sure Hyuck never stays up too late. Makes sure Chenle never loses his awesome laugh. Makes sure Jisung stays the same mochi mouse he is now."

The boys started looking up on the situation.

"I'm here guys." Mark said and they all attacked him in a sudden hug.

"And I'm not going anywhere."

[neverending2012]

My Journey To You Chapter 27

SUMMARY: Mercedes experiences a racist incident and must confront her fear before it takes a toll on her family. The Hummels come for Christmas.

RATING: Mature

WARNING: Racist situation and language, mild violence, cursing, and sexual situations

CHAPTER 27

LOVE THY NEIGHBOR

Mercedes zipped up Rosy's bright red parka and put on her hood. Jake stood next to his sister, holding her hand, and patiently waiting. He was already bundled up in his blue parka. Mercedes kissed their cheeks.

"I know both of you will be good at the supermarket, and no pulling things off the shelves."

Jake and Rosy looked at each other and then back at Mercedes.

"I'll be good," Rosy said.

Jake nodded.

"Me too."

Mercedes put on her coat and scarf, peeking out the window, she sighed. It was a cold, gray Tuesday morning. The trees were barren with a thick coat of frost covering the branches. She got the car keys from off of the key rack near the front door and they left the house. On their way to the store, Rosy and Jake sang along to the Moana soundtrack. Since traffic was light, they arrived in no time at all, and she was grateful to find a parking space close to the entrance. She braced herself against the harsh, frigid wind blowing in their faces as they walked the short distance to the store. Out front was a jolly red-cheeked man dressed as Santa Claus, ringing a silver bell, while standing next to a scarlet red Salvation Army kettle that hung from a tripod. Upon closer inspection, Mercedes realized it was Mr. Kramer, the owner of the local hardware store, he always gave Sam discounts because he was such a loyal customer, she forgot that he said he was working with the Salvation Army this year. He always doted on Rosy and Jake and she wondered if they would recognize him as she dropped a few dollars into the kettle.

"Hello Mr. Kramer," Jake and Rosy said.

Mr. Kramer shook his head.

"Ho, Ho, Ho, no it's Santa Claus, I came all the way from the North Pole."

Rosy and Jake looked at him and laughed.

"Mr. Kramer, you look funny!" Jake said peering up at him, his black hair falling into his eyes.

"Ho, ho, ho," he said, "Have you both been good?"

The twins giggled and Rosy patted his beard.

"Soft," she said.

He winked at her before releasing them from the hug.

Mercedes wished him a Merry Christmas and he gave each child a candy cane.

Once inside, the wonderful aroma of baking bread greeted them and the heat warmed their hands and faces. A holiday display of gingerbread house kits was right in front of them on a table decorated with sprigs of holly and fake cotton snow sprinkled with glitter. Rosy let go of Jake's hand and rushed up to the table and she reached for one of the boxes. Mercedes shook her head.

"Rose Emerald Hummel what do you think you're doing?"

Rosy stepped back.

"Sorry."

"Remember what we talked about?"

Rosy nodded. Mercedes put her hand on her hip.

"Come back here right now."

Rosy shuffled over to Mercedes and Jake.

"I know you're a good little girl so behave, ok?"

"Ok, Mommy."

Mercedes hugged her.

"Come on, we've got shopping to do."

Rosy smiled and the scolding was over.

Mercedes got the twins situated in the grocery cart, and headed toward the produce section. The store was practically empty. The white tiled floors shined beneath the fluorescent lights and Frosty the Snowman played over the sound system.

She got a few heads of lettuce and bags of baby spinach, then she moved over to the onions where a young, clean cut man, with buzz cut brown hair, wearing round frame glasses, a marble blue sweater and black dress pants was putting a few yellow onions into a plastic bag. She smelled his citrus cologne as she surveyed the red onions trying to decide if she should get them or not. She saw a flash of his gold watch as he picked up another onion. The man stared at her. His blue eyes were cold. Mercedes ignored his rude staring and continued perusing the onions. Jake pointed to the red onions.

"Red," he said, proud that he knew the color.

"No, blue," Rosy said.

"Actually they're purple, but we call them red for some reason," Mercedes said and pulled a plastic bag from the dispenser overhead and began to gather up onions and put them in the bag.

"We can put these in our salad. Your father will like that." she said, keeping up the chatter. She decided to be nice and smiled at the man, but he only glared at her, so she looked away and continued the task, her elbow bumped into his, while she tied up her plastic bag.

"Sorry," she said.

"Couldn't you have waited until I was done?" he said.

Before she could respond, the man said:

"I bet you're used to everybody helping you and your kids. How many baby daddies do you have?"

"Excuse me? How dare you - "

"Oh, don't act so surprised. Somebody needs to put you people in your place. Turning my country into – "

"Your country?"

"Yes, my country. I'm sick of it. But I'm not hiding any more; you can't come into this town and think you're first for everything. You need to know your place. Your kids aren't even the same race. You opened your fat legs for every man coming your way, so you can get that government check and when working class whites have to -"

"You will not speak to me like -

"I'll speak to you any damn way I please. Get out of this town and get out of my country. It belongs to us. Real, working white Americans, not some monkey leeches who scream in the streets every time one your bastard sons gets shot. Hollering about how your lives matter. Fuck you! Our brothers in blue put their lives on the line to protect your worthless asses and what do you do to repay them? Rob a liquor store and get shot."

His voice drowned out everything around them, he was a demon unleashed. Rosy and Jake began to cry. She had to get away from him. The funny thing about it was, he looked like the All American respectable, tax-paying citizen, right down to his spit-shined loafers, but the vitriol coming from his thin-lipped mouth proved otherwise.

"Get away from us or I'm calling the cops!" she said rushing away from him, pushing the cart as fast as she could, but the racist man wasn't finished with this tirade.

"You mean the same cops that shoot niggers? No, you cunt, you're not running away from me," he said walking behind her, "You're going to listen to every word I say."

She kept going. His cologne stung her nostrils. Then he grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me!" She said pulling away from him as he gripped her arm, not letting go.

"You're not going anywhere you black bitch!"

Suddenly, the store manager, Roy, who was built like a pro-wrestler and Clarence the security guard, a heavy set man with long black hair and huge biceps bursting through his navy blue uniform, ran up to them.

Clarence grabbed the man who took a knife out of his pocket and stabbed his arm. He screamed out in pain but he overpowered the man and wrestled him to the floor, while Roy took away his knife, Clarence sat on top of the crazy man, crushing his skinny body.

In the mayhem, Mercedes picked up both Rosy and Jake and runaway.

"I know my rights!" The man screamed, as he struggled beneath Clarence.

"Mrs. Hummel! We've called the police" Roy called out to her, but she kept running.

The man was enraged.

"She's infringing on my rights as an American, I – "

"Shut the hell up!" Roy yelled. "You racist piece of shit. Mrs. Hummel and her family come here all the time and their lovely people. You will not harm her or her family. What kind of man are you? Screaming at a mother and her children!"

"You think this is over? Do you? We're rising up against them. Taking back what's ours." The man said.

Mercedes ran outside to the parking lot rushing past Mr. Kramer who called out to her, but she ignored him and and got in their SUV. She didn't even bother putting the twins in their car seats. She sat with them in her arms and locked the door. They clung to her crying on her shoulders. She was too shaken to drive. Police sirens wailed in the distance and soon two cop cars pulled up to the supermarket. The officers ran inside the store. Mercedes called Sam. He was only a few blocks away at the paint store and he made it to the supermarket in record time. He parked his truck next to her, got out and she opened the door for him, and as soon as he saw her tear stained face and the twins shaking in her arms, he gathered them in his arms and hugged them close but he boiled with anger.

"Where is the motherfucker?" he asked, his voice low in her ear.

"He's inside I guess. I don't know. Sam please I – "

Sam continued holding them, whispering how much he loved them and how everything would be ok. The police came over to the SUV to get a statement from Mercedes. Sam was furious and wanted to know who the guy was so he could kill him.

"Sir, we'll have to ask you to calm down," one of the officers said, he looked too young to be a cop, but he had a muscular build and an authoritative air about him. His partner was a tall black woman, with a lanky frame, and big, round eyes that reminded Mercedes of a Precious Moments figurine.

"Calm down? Some asshole threatens my wife, puts his hands on her, and scares my kids, and you want me to remain calm? What if it was your family?"

"I understand how you must feel, but – "

"No, you have no idea how I feel. Whatever charges that can be pressed, we're pressing all of them."

His partner said:

"We understand. And we promise not to take up much of your time."

Mercedes answered the questions. When they were done, the officers thanked them for their time and said they would be in touch to follow up. Mercedes felt shell-shocked. Sam buckled up the twins in their car seats, took the car keys from her and said he would drive them home.

"But what about the truck?"

"I'll come back for it. I want to get you and the kids home."

Mercedes didn't protest. He drove slightly above the speed limit so they made it home in half the time. Rosy and Jake were cold and scared. After getting them out of their parkas and scarves, the twins wouldn't let go of their parents. Sam and Mercedes sat with them in front of the fireplace and prayed, doing their best to calm them down. They eventually stopped crying and they fed them lunch then attempted to put them in their cribs but the twins wanted to get in bed with their parents. Mercedes was thankful for their king sized bed and after changing into sweats, they all piled into the big, soft bed with Jake and Rosy between them. When the children were asleep, Sam and Mercedes stayed with them and had a quiet conversation about everything that happened.

"Sam, I'm going to ask you not to do anything that could have you arrested."

Sam looked out the window. It had begun to snow.

"He threatened you, put his hands on you, and scared the babies. You can't ask me not to retaliate."

"But what good does it do if it lands you in prison?"

"Damn it to hell, what do they expect us to do? I can't sit by and let racist dicks like Mr. White America harass my family. Do you think he's part of that group?"

"I don't know. I don't care. I want us all to be safe. And we are. And he's been arrested. I know you'll protect us and I have no problem with that. You stood them down in Town Square, but Sam this was different."

"How?"

"It was only one man angry at me for existing. Blaming me for whatever he thinks is corrupting America. I want to beat his ass too, but I also want to be here for our kids."

"He had a knife."

"I know and I can't stop thinking about what could've happened. It crossed my mind that he could've had a gun too."

Sam leaned over and hugged her.

"I have to get a handle on this. I won't take this lying down."

"I'm so tired," Mercedes said.

"I can't have you and the kids being in danger. You say it's one man but what's next?"

"I don't know."

They talked some more until Mercedes fell asleep. Sam was too wound up to even close his eyes. Then the doorbell rang and he went downstairs to answer it.

STRENGTH IN UNITY

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Roy standing on the doorstep with bags of groceries at his feet. His fluffy white down coat made him look like the Abominable Snowman.

"Roy, what are you doing here?" Sam asked.

"I came by to check on you guys and to bring you groceries. It's on the house. I know what Mercedes gets every week and I added in a few things."

"You didn't have to do that."

Roy picked up all the bags.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Of course."

Roy wiped his black leather cowboy boots on their red and green Santa Claus welcome mat, and Sam let him inside and closed the door.

"Where should I put these?"

"Follow me."

Roy followed him into the kitchen where he put the bags on the counter then sat down to the table. Sam began brewing a pot of coffee.

"Mercedes is taking a nap."

"I'm so sorry about everything that's happened."

"Thank you for helping her."

"Is Mercedes ok? How are the twins?"

"Getting there."

Roy sighed.

"I'll pray for them."

"Thank you," Sam said.

"This isn't our town."

Sam poured them each a cup of coffee and joined Roy at the table.

"I used to think that too. I'm not so sure any more. We came here because it felt like home."

"Are you thinking of moving?"

"I don't know. You can't move every time bullshit happens. The anti-hate rally brought every one together and that's a start. Our neighbors really stepped up and we look out for each other… I try to stay hopeful."

Roy laid a sympathetic hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I wish I had some advice but I don't."

"Is Clarence ok?"

"Yeah, he only needed a few stitches in his arm."

"I take it he pressed charges."

"Yeah, he did, just like you." Roy said as he poured cream into his coffee. "For what it's worth, I think you have a beautiful family and you and Mercedes are good people. I hope this is an isolated incident and I'll continue my policy of 'no dicks allowed in my store.'"

Sam laughed.

"Great policy to have."

Roy stayed and helped Sam put away the groceries. Sam was surprised to find four packs of steaks. He held them up.

"Is this your something extra?"

Roy shrugged, a blush rose in his cheeks.

"Yeah, well… "

Sam patted his back.

"Thanks, man."

Sam also found extra Gerber juice boxes, animal crackers, and wagon wheel pasta for the twins and for Abby there were jars of coconut oil and E.L. Fudge cookies.

"You know my family," Sam said as he continued unpacking the groceries.

"You get to know your loyal customers," Roy said, while putting a couple of cartons of eggs in the fridge, "I learned that from my father."

Roy visited a while longer and then returned to the store. Sam spent the afternoon cooking a big dinner for Mercedes and the kids. He made all of the Hummel family comfort foods: macaroni and cheese, garlic butter steaks, collard greens, corn bread, sweet potatoes, green beans with bits of ham, tossed salad and a vanilla cream cake for dessert. He knew he was overcompensating with food, but he needed to do something that gave him joy, and cooking for his family always did.

Yet despite the delicious aromas that wafted through the kitchen and the happiness he felt from making the elaborate meal, Sam's mind wandered to revenge. Though he wasn't sure what it meant. Mercedes accepted he was a gun owner and when the town square incident happened, he signaled to the group, he was ready if something went down. And for a long time afterwards, whenever they went out as a family, he brought his gun. But then the rally gave them hope and promise, so he left it locked in the safe. Now, the urge to take it with him crept up again, but he couldn't be with Mercedes 24/7. Ever since the supremacy group came to town, the energy was different.

Abby came home late that afternoon because she had a nature club meeting after school and Travis' parents brought her home.

Mercedes was upstairs with the twins giving them an early bath, when Abby arrived. Sam told her what happened because keeping anything from his daughter was a bad idea; Abby was too observant for her own good, and she would have picked up on everyone's vibe that something was amiss. As he recounted the ugly event, Abby listened, her eyes filled with tears.

"What if he hurt Mommy and the twins?"

Sam hugged her and said they were fortunate they were unharmed. He went upstairs and helped Mercedes get the twins dressed for bed. She had changed into her short- sleeved nightgown and as she buttoned up Rosy's pink Princess Jasmine pajamas, Sam saw a purple bruise on her arm. He touched her shoulder.

"Did that bastard do this to you?"

"Sam, please."

"He grabbed your arm so hard that it left a bruise."

"I'm ok."

Sam finished putting Jake's Elmo pajamas on and they carried the twins downstairs for dinner. Though they tried to have a normal family dinner with all of the delicious food Sam prepared, it was a somber affair and dessert was left untouched. Afterwards, they said a prayer in the living room, seated in a circle, holding hands, heads bowed while Sam asked God to watch over them and give them strength. When he and Mercedes finally went to bed, he held her close, kissing her forehead.

"I don't know how make this better."

"We have to focus on what we have. Which is a lot. The good people outweigh the bad."

"Do they?"

"Sam…"

"Your bruise makes me want to kill him even more."

"Roy and Clarence helped me. Nowadays, most people would've recorded what happened on their phones and posted it to social media, not intervening at all. But they helped me. And that lunatic stabbed Clarence."

"I'm still furious. You could've been the one he stabbed or Jake and Rosy"

"I know and I'm angry too."

"I'm buying you mace. I know I can't be with you all the time, though I'll do my best."

"Let's get some sleep."

They kissed and soon Mercedes was asleep, but Sam remained awake, listening to the silence.

NOTHING TO FEAR

As the weeks passed, every morning Mercedes and Sam prayed together, before the children woke up and the day began it's hectic crazy run of insanity; they knelt on the floor, facing each other, bowed heads, hands clasped together, and said a prayer; then they meditated. The private sanctuary of the bedroom where they shared quiet moments together gave her strength, but it wasn't enough to assuage her fears and she dreaded leaving the house ever since the supermarket incident, but she kept her anxiety to herself, and pretended everything was fine.

Instead of going grocery shopping, she had the groceries delivered, telling Sam she was saving on gas and that the twins could get sick in the cold weather. Even though she knew the neighbors watched over Abby, she made up things for her to do indoors and discouraged her from going outside or even hanging out with friends. Her behavior shamed her. Wasn't she the woman who said they should build a snowman after the supremacist group left a flyer on their door?

What happened to her? What happened to her courage? Mercedes couldn't explain the transformation into barricading herself behind closed doors. The threat at the supermarket affected her more deeply than she realized. Whatever the reason, leaving the house became more difficult with each day and she only left if she had to, which was rare. She even had Sam staying home as much as possible, finding things for him to fix, and when that wasn't enough, she asked him to build her some bookshelves.

"Are you planning on making a library?" He asked her as he stroked her hair, they were cuddled on the couch in front of the TV, watching the news. The children were asleep upstairs. It was late Friday night and icy sleet beat against the windows.

"No, I just think we need some for the den. Abby can help you."

"Hmmm," he said, touching her cheek, "You've been giving me a lot of projects."

"You're good with your hands," she said, smiling up at him, "You should put them to use."

Sam leaned down and kissed her.

"Flattery is not my weakness."

"But pleasing me is."

Sam laughed and kissed her again.

"I know you're taking this conversation in other places, but I am curious about your sudden interest in my woodworking talents?"

Mercedes sighed.

"Oh, I don't know… she said, looking down at her hands. "It's such a nasty night, I'm glad we don't have to go out anywhere."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"Saying what?"

"How you're glad we're stuck home."

"I don't feel stuck at home. I feel safe. Don't you?"

"I want to take you dancing."

"There's no place to dance in Star Pride."

"I'll find a place."

"I don't know, then we'd have to find a sitter, why can't we dance here?"

Sam looked around the spacious room.

"In our living room?"

"Remember how we danced at your old house in Tennessee?"

"Yeah, but – "

"That was romantic."

"Yes it was. I dipped you."

"See we don't have to go anywhere."

Sam said nothing and kissed her instead. Mercedes was glad he didn't press the issue. Maybe she could eventually conquer her fear. But in the mean time, there were no more date nights or spontaneous outings. When she did go out, she timed it to a "T" and never lingered or dawdled, as she ran away from the imaginary ghost that haunted her. Every stranger's smile made her suspicious, of what she wasn't sure, but she was on edge, even when she smiled back she wondered if their eyes told the truth.

She knew she should talk to Santana, but her trusty friend and therapist was on maternity leave; she and her new wife, a buxom black woman named Ella, were expecting their first child together. They were having a girl. Santana referred a therapist to her while she was on leave and though Mercedes liked Dr. Freemont, he wasn't Santana and it was difficult to open up to him.

One morning Sam told her about a new second-hand toy store downtown. They were getting dressed after showering.

"It's called Second Hand Rose. You and the kids should go."

"I have housework to do."

"The house is clean."

"I have higher housecleaning standards than you," She said, chuckling as she fastened her bra.

"Well you should go to that new kiddie play land at the mall, I heard they have a really nice jungle gym."

"Why don't you take them on the weekend?"

Sam sat on the bed next to her and rubbed her shoulder; he was shirtless and he smelled shower fresh, his damp, pink nipples were hardened into stiff peaks.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"You're always home."

"So? Everything is so crowded this time of year. Besides, I'm saving on gas."

"We're not in financial trouble."

"That's because I do my best to save."

"Mercedes, you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean. Most men would kill to have a wife who runs a household like I do. You don't have to lift a finger and this is the thanks I get?"

Sam looked at her as if she'd gone crazy.

"What are you going on about? You know I appreciate everything you do. Are you saying I'm not pulling my weight?"

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said pulling her purple sweater over her head.

Mercedes knew she was picking a fight simply because he was noticing her behavior again. Sam reached for her hand.

"I love you, you don't have to hide anything from me. Tell me what's wrong. Does it have to do with that racist lunatic?"

"No, it doesn't and you're overreacting. I'm fine. I'm sorry if I upset you. Do you want sausage with your eggs?" she asked him, rising from the bed.

He shook his head.

"Please don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Put up a wall."

"I'm not putting up any walls. I'm fine."

Sam stood up and put his arms around her.

"I love you with all that I am. You know that."

Mercedes nodded looking up at him.

"I swear I'm ok. I just don't like crowds or cold weather."

"Since when?"

"Sam, just stop."

He shook his head.

"You can't hide from me."

"Who said I was hiding?"

"Jane at Starbucks said she hasn't seen you in a while, and wondered if you were ok."

"So sightings from the Starbucks barista are your measuring stick?"

"No, and stop being dense. I can see something is wrong."

"I'm going downstairs," she said, pulling away from his embrace, "I have to start breakfast."

Sam's eyes grew misty. He sighed.

"Ok, Schätzchen, have it your way. I'll be downstairs in a minute."

She went to him and kissed his cheek.

"You worry too much," she said and left the room.

He never mentioned it again after that day, but she noticed him watching her more and this increased her anxiety. Since she was at home all the time, the house was immaculate, the meals became more fancy and elaborate and the twins grew restless, unlike Abby who had the outlet of school, the twins suffered more since they had nowhere to go. They couldn't understand why they couldn't go outside for a walk or to the nearby park to play the way they used to.

"You can catch cold," Mercedes said to Rosy as she braided her hair one frigid morning.

"I want to see the sun," Rosy said.

"You can see the sun from the window."

"I want to see clouds," Jake said, sitting beside his sister, holding her hand. The two were inseparable. "They miss us."

"Who misses you?" Mercedes asked.

"The clouds. And the birds too."

Mercedes continued to braid Rosy's hair and she gazed out the living room window. Their peacock Speranza wandered about the back yard making her weird human-like birdcall.

"We can play in the back yard for a little while," Mercedes said, hoping this would appease them.

"I want to go to the park," Jake said.

"We can feed Speranza," Mercedes said, "She's due for a treat."

Speranza mostly ate birdseed, but the vet said they could occasionally give her bread and fruit as a treat. She loved grapes.

Sesame Street came on TV distracting the twins from their desire to go outside as they watched Elmo dance about on the screen, singing about the color orange. Mercedes finished Rosy's hair, tying red ribbons at the end of her braids. Then she brushed and combed Jake's hair. Since he wanted to do everything like Rosy and vice versa, she put a tiny bit of Tui oil on his straight, shiny black hair, though he didn't need it. His hair wasn't dry, quite the opposite, yet she humored him anyway.

The twins were dressed in their play clothes: matching blue Thomas the Steam Engine warm up suits and thick white socks covered their pudgy feet. Mercedes had put a couple of apple pies in the oven and the air smelled like cinnamon and apples, a fire crackled in the fire place and the dark hardwood floors gleamed in the sunlight.

The timer went off in the kitchen and she went to take the pies out of the oven. When she opened the oven door, she was happy to see the golden brown crust on each of the pies. She put on her oven mitts and retrieved the pies, setting them on the counter to cool. Sam loved her apple pies and he would be pleased to see she made them, the thought brought her momentary joy, but the twins felt trapped in the house, and she couldn't deny them fresh air simply because she was afraid.

The rest of the morning was spent doing laundry. Finally she let the twins go outside in the back yard. They ran races with each other, the hard, frost covered ground, crunched beneath their snow boots as they ran across the yard, the wind in their faces, yelling for no reason at all, just simply from the joy of being outdoors.

They fed Speranza some grapes and she gobbled them from their hands before returning to her birdhouse to sit in front of the heating lamp Sam installed to keep her warm. Mercedes watched the twins with careful eyes, and gritted her teeth. Her heart thudded in her chest. The sunlight was harsh and bright. She checked her watch, willing the time to move faster. She scanned the yard for potential threats, thinking someone could climb the fence. Rosy and Jake were now doing somersaults, laughing as they tumbled about on the grass.

"Look at me!" Jake shouted to her as he attempted a cartwheel.

"Be careful," Mercedes called to him, "Cartwheels are hard."

Jake only laughed as he fell, and Rosy giggled beside him.

The wind blew, chilling her face; she squinted in the sun, thinking how she should've put on her shades. For the sunshine to be so bright, it provided little warmth. She checked her watch again, and bit her bottom lip. She thought about the man in the supermarket, how he grabbed her as if he had every right to touch her, belittle her and frighten her babies, and recalled the fear in her chest as she ran away.

Then she felt someone touch her shoulder. She screamed, turned around, and punched the intruder in the stomach. She refused to be the same fool twice; she had mace in her coat pocket and she knew the combination to the gun safe; and Sam gave her shooting lessons on the weekends. She cursed herself for not having it with her, but she reasoned she wouldn't need it for the back yard. The bottom of the intruder's face was covered with a thick blue knit scarf; she pounced on him, knocking him to the ground, and pulling out the mace, aiming it at the fallen stranger, ready to spray it.

"Leave us alone!"

"Mercedes, it's me! Please calm down!" Sam said, holding her hands, and pulling down his scarf, "It's me, Schätzchen."

"Sam I…"

"Just breathe."

"I, I can't…" she began to cry and the twins ran over to their parents.

"You jumped on Papa," Jake said, bewildered, "Are you mad?" he patted Mercedes arm.

"She's sad," Rosy said, pointing to their mother's tears.

"Let's go in the house," Sam said, slowly rising from the ground.

They went in the house, with Sam holding his stomach where Mercedes punched him. He took off the twins' coats, hats and scarves and made them some hot chocolate, telling them everything was fine and that Mommy made a mistake, while Mercedes went upstairs to their bedroom, sat on the bed and cried. Sam came upstairs about 30 minutes later, leaving the twins downstairs in front of the TV with their building blocks. Mercedes didn't know how long he held her as she cried; she released everything within her. When she couldn't cry any more, Sam said:

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you're afraid. I knew something was wrong. But you pushed me away."

"I'm sorry."

"Tell me everything you're feeling right now. I don't care how long it takes, we have the baby monitor on and the door is open. I'm with you and we're safe. I love you and I want to help you. Please let me."

So Mercedes told him everything: the constant fear and anxiety, the need to stay in the house where she felt safest, the thought that maybe someone would hurt them again. And Sam listened to her, never interrupting, holding her in his arms, as she talked and cried.

"I'm so sorry, Sam. I thought I could do this. I thought it would go away."

"Please stop apologizing. We'll get through this. Why won't you tell Dr. Fremont?"

"He's great but… I'm ashamed. Other people have been through much worse, like getting run over in the street or shot. I was spared. I shouldn't crumble."

"Yes you should crumble because you're human, and I don't care what happened to everyone else, I care about what happens to you. Never be ashamed of feeling afraid. And stop comparing yourself to others. You're not them. You're you, understand?"

"Yes."

"Santana trusted Dr. Fremont enough to handle her patients while she was away and you said yourself that you liked him."

"I do."

"Would it help if I sat with you on your session?"

Mercedes hadn't thought of that.

"Actually it would."

"Ok, we're calling him now and we'll make an appointment."

They made an appointment and called Stacey to pick up Abby from school and watch the twins. Mercedes told Dr. Fremont it was an emergency and he said they could come in that afternoon. Later as they drove to his office about a half an hour away, Sam held her hand, as they zoomed along the expressway.

"You know I'm always by your side. Just as you've been by mine," he said, "It hurts when you hide stuff from me."

"This wasn't meant to hurt you. I just never felt like this before. It's a new experience for me."

"I love you, I hate to see you hurt. Like when I saw your bruise, the image stayed in my mind for a long time. I couldn't un-see it"

"I love you too and the bruise is gone."

"I know. But my anger isn't."

"The court date is next month."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten."

"I'm sorry I punched you."

Sam smiled and kissed her hand.

"You can pack quite a punch. I'll give you that."

"I'm sorry about what happened."

"Baby, it's ok. And I'm sorry to. I didn't mean to scare you."

"How's your stomach?"

"I'll live," he said, kissing her hand again.

"I'm glad you calmed Rosy and Jake were down."

"Me too."

They talked about everything that happened. As they pulled into the parking lot of Dr. Fremont's office building, Sam said:

"How do you feel now?"

She laid her head on his shoulder.

"Hopeful."

ooo

Dr. Freemont's office was sandwiched between a small accounting firm and a chiropractor on the second floor of brick office building across the street from a sad, little strip mall that boasted an all you can eat Chinese buffet restaurant, a dry cleaners, a dime store straight out of fifties with it's retro font on it's faded plastic red and white sign that said Vidlers 5 & 10 and a fried chicken joint called Fanny Pride's Chicken House advertising a 10 piece special until 6PM. This town was a far cry from Star Pride. It was more like a ghost town with people hanging on to what was once a bustling community. After the local pencil factory shut down a few years ago, it was never quite the same. Some stayed because it was cheap and found jobs in nearby towns, but many left to find better opportunities elsewhere. Dr. Fremont chose the location because the rent was cheap and the area needed a psychiatrist. Sam parked the car and got out, opening Mercedes' door for her. He walked with his arm around her, as Mercedes shivered inside her coat. The sky was turning twilight purple and the air was penetrating cold.

An overweight man with a bushy mustache wearing a long brown mink coat stood at the entrance of the office building, puffing away on a cigar, gold and diamond rings on his fingers, he tipped his white cowboy hat and opened the glass door for them. He smiled at them and Mercedes forced herself to smile back, even with the tension rising in her chest.

The tobacco smelled sweet, almost pleasant, and it followed them into the building, drifting down the long hallway to the elevator. The hall was lit with bright white fluorescent lights overhead. The waxed black and white tiled floor squeaked beneath their feet. Sam held her hand, squeezing it in support. She loved this man so much. How could she ever do something so foolish as push him away? What was wrong with her? When they got to the elevator, Mercedes hugged and kissed him, taking Sam by surprise. Tears filled her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Sam melted in her embrace, rubbing his big hands up and down her back.

"And I love you."

Mercedes pulled back, wiping her eyes, as he pushed the UP button on the elevator. They got on and heard Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing on the stereo system, a silver wreath with blue glitter balls hung on the elevator wall. The bell chimed and they got off, walked down the hall to Dr. Fremont's office and went inside. His secretary, an elderly woman in her 80s named Madge, with teased, dyed red hair and way too much blue eye shadow, greeted them with a big smile, her teeth refrigerator white. She smelled like lavender. Red rouge coated her pale, wrinkled cheeks. The light reflected off of her blue rhinestone rimmed cat eyeglasses. Silver bells decorated the red knit cardigan sweater she wore, and jingled every time she moved. Red Christmas stockings filled with candy canes hung from her gray metal desk and a little Christmas tree decorated with gold tinsel and red lights sat on top of the filing cabinet next to her desk, and on top of the tree, was a pretty black angel, with a long, gold gown and curly black hair that was styled in an Afro, and a silver halo was nestled in her voluminous curls.

"Hello Mercedes," she said, "I see you brought your husband Sam."

Sam looked at Mercedes and smirked.

"I see you've been talking about me."

"Of course she has," Madge said, "How handsome you are!"

"Thank you," Sam said, blushing a little.

"You two can have a seat," she said pointing to the black leather loveseat. A glass coffee table was positioned front of the couch, with silver bowls filled with Hershey's kisses, and a few old coffee stained issues of AARP.

They sat down and waited. Madge smiled at them.

"He won't be long. Don't worry."

She began typing away on her computer, humming to herself as she worked. Sam held Mercedes' hand and whispered in her ear.

"Feel ok?"

She nodded.

"I'm good."

Sam kissed her cheek and Dr. Fremont's door opened. He was an older man in his early 60s with closely cropped white hair and bright blue eyes, a shade that Mercedes had never seen before, almost like a cloudless sky; he wasn't the type to wear colored contacts so she figured he was born with them. He wore a polyester flowered shirt, faded jeans, and brown leather moccasins decorated with colorful red, black, white and turquoise beads.

"Hello Mercedes and Sam, come right in."

They went into his office and he closed the door.

"I was really concerned when you called me. Tell me what's going on?"

Mercedes told Dr. Fremont everything that happened with Sam beside her, encouraging her all the way. She broke down and cried in the middle of her story.

"I was so scared and didn't know what to do, how to process it. When I walked in the market that day, it was just an ordinary day. And this guy just starts acting crazy, saying racist things and threatening me. I was afraid because I didn't know what he would do. I failed."

"How?"

"I should've stood up to him more."

"In what manner?"

"I don't know. Be Wonder Woman?" she laughed and took some tissues out of her purse, "My first instinct was to run because I had to protect my children. He had a knife."

"You did nothing wrong. This is not failure. Is anyone judging you for your actions?"

She looked at Sam who put his arm around her, giving her the strength she needed.

"No, I've just been judging myself. And then I think, what if it happens again? This fear grew inside me. We've been having some racial tension in town and I don't want to put my family in danger."

"The manager and security guard helped you. Before that the community had a No Place For Hate rally and your neighbors all look out for you and your kids since the flyer incident. It sounds like you made a home in a town where people won't tolerate hate and your husband loves you more than any man I've seen love a woman. I'm not saying it won't happen again but I am saying you have a good support system. But fear controls you and that's understandable. We'll work together to overcome it. You aren't weak. You aren't a failure. You're a mother who protected herself and her children from a God-awful racist scumbag. This won't be an easy journey, but it's one I know you can make. I'm glad you're crying."

"Why?"

"You're releasing everything and that's good. I think you attacking Sam brought everything to a head, do you agree?"

"Yes, I do."

"Mercedes, I won't give you a kumbayah speech and say we all just need to hold hands and the bad people go away. I will tell you not to judge yourself, give yourself time to heal and take little steps. I will also prescribe medication for your anxiety."

"Thank you."

"Sam," Dr. Fremont said, "I want you to keep doing what you're doing. Fear and anxiety can be crippling and shameful for those who experience it, and the most soothing thing in the world is to have someone there beside you treating you with love and compassion."

"I will."

"And Mercedes, this isn't a quick fix, you may feel fine one day and not so great the next. It's a work in progress, understand?"

"I understand."

"What comes next for the man who harassed you?"

"He was arrested. All of us pressed charges."

"I hope justice is served and it's not one of those I didn't take my meds, society misunderstands me; I'm a product of my environment bullshit. No, you're a hateful, racist douchebag and you're responsible for your actions. There are no excuses and he stabs a man on top of that."

"You know, Dr. Fremont one of the reasons this upset me so much is because I have told people off, not because of racism but for other reasons. This was different, why?"

"Who were those people you told off?"

"My in-laws and my Aunt Josephine and my employer when I was being stiffed for a raise."

"That was your family and your employer. You knew the situation. You weren't in danger. Standing up to relatives and to a complete stranger who could be armed is an entirely different scenario and your children were in danger too. It's apples and oranges. And you can handle yourself, you knocked down your husband," he said.

"I've been learning how to shoot."

"Well, then, that's a useful skill."

"I know everyone is not an enemy, but my sense of security is shaken. And there's something else."

She looked at Sam and back at Dr. Fremont and said:

"Sam is a wonderful husband and provider. He does everything in his power to protect us. After he saw my bruise, he had such rage in his eyes, and I was afraid if he knew of my fear that he would go after that guy and either kill him or beat him. I love him. I don't want to see him arrested."

Sam squeezed her hand.

"I want to kill him, and if I had been there, I would've." he said quietly.

"I know and I would never stop you from protecting us. But I was alone with the kids and the circumstances were different. I was afraid of losing you."

Dr. Fremont cleared his throat.

"Mercedes, I know you love Sam, but those are his feelings and you can't control them. His wife and children were in danger, so the rage is understandable. However, together you will have to discuss how to move forward too, and I can help with that."

They stayed a while longer and then headed home. As they walked out of the office, Madge gave them each a red tin of her homemade fudge.

"It's an old family recipe," she said thrusting the containers into their hands. Drive safe."

They thanked her and left. The drive home was unfortunately long because of an accident on the expressway. Stacey called to tell them she ordered Chinese food so they didn't have to worry about dinner. Mercedes was glad because she and Sam were in no mood to cook. When they got home, Stacey stayed and visited, talking about her new boyfriend and how her calligraphy business was going. Mercedes was glad she didn't ask them how the session went; for some reason, she didn't want to discuss it, even though it went well. After Stacey went home they put the twins to bed and tucked in Abby.

"Mommy, will you be ok?" Abby asked as Mercedes covered her up with a comforter.

"I'm fine sweetie," Mercedes said, kissing her forehead.

"Your mother and I are working through this," Sam said, reassuring their daughter, before giving her a goodnight kiss on the cheek.

They said a prayer with Abby then went to their bedroom, undressed and showered together. Sam soaped up the washcloth and carefully washed her body, giving her loving caresses, and whispered praise for her beauty. He held her soft body against his firm one as the water sprayed down on them, feeling her heartbeat against his.

"You're beautiful, courageous and kind," he said, "I'm beside you, baby, I love you."

Mercedes held on tight, his words soothing her. When they finished showering, they went to bed and made love, and Mercedes enjoyed the fullness of him as he stretched her inner walls with his member. It was gentle, tender and sweet, the way he held her, and told her how much he loved her and she did the same, praising him as a husband and father, calling him her rock, and she cried because of the gratitude filling her heart. Their orgasm was intense and they held each other as it rippled through their bodies.

ooo

A few weeks later…

Mercedes had regular sessions with Dr. Fremont and he helped her immensely by enabling her to confront her fear and live her life. Though it was a daily struggle; she had a support system, and Sam knew where she was at all times. Aunt Josephine wanted them to move, but Mercedes told her despite everything, Star Pride was home and they were staying put for the time being.

The family went all out that year with decorating the house for Christmas. Blue and green lights were hung on the house and were strung across the surface of the front lawn, an inflatable snowman and Santa were displayed, and big blue electric glitter angels were also in the front yard. In the back yard, they decorated Speranza's birdhouse with blue and green lights too.

One afternoon she braved the cold and she and the twins went to Target to get more wrapping paper and cleaning supplies. She was fine at first as they perused the different wrapping paper in the paper goods aisle, Rosy and Jake called out the colors of each roll of paper with pride in their little voices. A few shoppers smiled at them and told Mercedes how cute her babies were, the Target employees were extremely friendly and kind, asking her if she needed assistance as she pushed the big red cart through the store, and nothing was amiss, but panic seized her heart as she gazed at a shelf of scented candles, trying to decide which ones had the best smells for the holidays, when she felt a cold dread seep into her bones.

Rosy and Jake were giggling and chatting together, their little heads pressed together as they participated in a conversation only they could understand, they shared a secret language sometimes. She looked over her shoulder and saw and elderly couple arguing about the price of scotch tape, then a teenage boy with blue hair passed by her, hands stuffed in his pockets, ear buds in his silver ball studded ears.

What was she afraid of? Then she saw a bald, clean-cut man with a thin mustache, in a black overcoat and red scarf, so all American and so threatening in her eyes, he walked toward her and she took a deep breath. It wasn't the crazy man from the supermarket, but his eyes were the same, something about those eyes. She began pushing the cart and walked quickly. She felt embarrassed and afraid. That man wasn't a threat. He probably didn't even see her. But the panic rose within her, she couldn't relapse, she closed her eyes and breathed in and out. She had to make it out of store, yet her feet wouldn't move. She was stuck in the home appliance section, gripping the cart handle, the sound of Bing Crosby crooning White Christmas throughout the store filled her ears, she felt the twins' hands covering her own; their soft, sticky fingers touched her skin.

"Mommy?"

Her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. She opened her eyes and, retrieved her phone and saw it was Sam.

"Schätzchen?"

"Yes."

"I want to tell you a story."

"Sam I – "

"Shhh, just listen to me. Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?"

Mercedes took a few deep breaths. Then she heard Sam's voice again:

"I knew a little girl who dreamed of flying horses, grew up crying because she was alone, had parents who died in a fire and an aunt who loved her more than life. She lived through the death of her husband, the silence of her child, drug addiction, mistreatment, loneliness and heartache, and one day she was foolish enough to marry the man downstairs with a huge mouth and loved her like he's never loved another and they got through a lot together. And that woman is all courage; her heart is so big it swallows you up and the universe loves her; sometimes you have to remind her of how she touches everyone's lives for the better, even random strangers, you need to tell her how precious she is, how much her family and friends love her even in difficult times. This woman is a jewel and my heart and I couldn't be more proud of her."

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away. His voice was the only thing that mattered.

"She's the mother of my children. She's my everything and we walk through fires together."

Suddenly she felt strong arms encircling her waist, holding her close. She turned around and faced Sam. She cried on his shoulder.

"Did you follow me?"

"No, I was taking a break in my truck and your face popped into my mind and you had tears in your eyes; I felt you shaking. You told me you were coming here this afternoon. I wasn't too faraway so I called you on my way here."

"I'm sorry."

"Mercedes Hummel never apologize for this. You've been doing great. We all have our off days."

"Do you feel better Mommy?" Jake asked.

"Yes, sweetie pie."

They paid for the wrapping paper and left the store. Sam followed her home in his truck. By the time they got to the house, her panic had all but vanished, but she knew there was a long road ahead.

ooo

A few days after the Target incident, Santana contacted her to let her know she gave birth to her baby girl, who they named Molly Mabel Lopez Stratton, and since there were no complications, she was home with her wife Ella recuperating. While Sam and the kids went to Christmas Playland to see Santa Claus one Saturday afternoon, Mercedes drove to see Santana and the new baby. She bought gifts for the baby: a beautiful white lace layette set, baby essentials like diapers, lotion, pacifiers, bath items, and a dozen onsies.

The weather was clear and cold and she listened to her gospel Christmas playlist as she drove along the highway. When she arrived to their house about an hour later, she forgot how lovely the old Victorian house was with its bright blue paint, wraparound porch, irregularly shaped black steeped roof, and white shutters. Two black lampposts were positioned on either side of the concrete walkway leading up to the front steps and dark green holly was wrapped around each post.

A green wreath with a giant red velvet bow hung on the front door. Mercedes rang the doorbell and Ella answered the door dressed in a black velour tracksuit, her hair in curlers. She was about twenty years older than Santana, her skin was dark amber and she was plump with a generous bosom. Santana said they met in a creative writing class at the local community college. Ella had been married to a man before and when he died, she finally came out of the closet and lived her life as a lesbian. Ella had a pleasant face, and a pretty smile. She hugged Mercedes upon seeing her.

"Merry Christmas," she said, and Mercedes smelled her sandalwood perfume.

"Hello Ella, good to see you."

Ella pulled her inside the house, and the aroma of baking sweet potato pies wafted in the air.

"Something smells good."

"Girl, you know I got pies baking for my wife. She's been awfully demanding lately."

"I heard that!" Santana yelled from the living room.

Mercedes laughed as she followed Ella down the hall to the living room where Santana was sprawled out on the couch, covered with a heavy purple blanket with Molly in her arms, the caramel hued newborn had a head full of curly black hair and she nursed from Santana's big bare breast, which spilled out from the front of her opened fluffy, pink robe. Santana's long dark hair was in one long braid that reached her waist; her face was a bit fuller, and Mercedes could see she gained weight; her usually angular features were softer. She smiled at Mercedes.

"Hey Mercedes, come meet our little rug rat."

Mercedes walked over to them and looked down at the gorgeous newborn.

"She's beautiful," she said touching the top of her head, "Hi Molly."

Molly continued nursing, oblivious to everything else. Mercedes placed her gifts on the coffee table and sat down in the recliner near the couch.

"You didn't have to bring anything," Santana said.

"Oh, it's nothing and I wanted to."

Ella leaned down and kissed Santana's forehead.

"I'm going to check on the pies, do you need anything?"

"Yes, I'd love some cocoa."

"Sure thing, sweetie," Ella said and turned to Mercedes, "And would you like anything?"

"I'll have some cocoa too."

"Coming right up," Ella said, kissing Santana once more before leaving the room.

Mercedes looked at the diamond sparkling on Santana's hand.

"So how is marriage and motherhood treating you?"

Santana smiled, her eyes misty.

"Wonderful, I know I sound sappy but it's true. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love Ella and Molly. Everything happened so fast."

The two women went to the Justice of the Peace and got married on a rainy summer afternoon then went to Five Guys for burgers and shakes; it was perfect for them. Neither one of them was into weddings and fanfare.

"Ella is sweet."

"She's more than sweet. She puts up with my ornery ass and that's more than I ever thought possible."

"Oh, Santana," Mercedes said.

"It's true. You don't know how many failed relationships I've had but that's for another time. How are you doing?"

"I'm better. I have my days, but… I'm getting there."

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

"Thank you for Dr. Fremont."

"I can't leave my patients hanging and he's a great man."

Mercedes nodded thinking of his support then she said.

"Is Molly sleeping through the night?"

"I wish," Santana said gazing down at her daughter, "She wakes up every few hours."

Ella returned with two white mugs with sparkling silver stars, steam rising from each one. Tiny marshmallows floated on the surface of the rich, creamy cocoa. She set them on the table. Molly pulled away from Santana's breast, her dark eyes closing.

"You, finished nugget?" Santana said as she lifted up the baby and burped her over her shoulder, after she belched, Molly fell asleep. Ella took the baby upstairs and Santana closed her robe. She picked up one of the mugs and sipped the cocoa.

"Mmmm, so good," she said, closing her eyes. Mercedes picked up the other mug and took a drink, and she agreed it was quite good, though not as good as Sam's.

Ella came back downstairs and sat next to Santana on the couch; the curlers were gone from her hair, and now it was a mass of bouncy black curls, framing her sweet, angelic face. She sat next to Santana who pulled her into her arms, kissing her lips, and running her hands through her shiny hair.

"I love your hair."

Ella kissed her back.

"I'm glad you like my old lady curls."

"Hey, there's nothing old about you."

Ella pointed to a few gray hairs in the front of her head.

"See this?"

Santana touched the patch of gray, pulled Ella's head toward her and kissed it.

"It doesn't make you old. You're beautiful."

Ella blushed and put her arm around Santana, holding her close to her side, and Santana rested her head on her wife's shoulder. The two were very much love and Mercedes was happy for them.

"Where are you two spending Christmas this year?"

"Right here," Santana said, "We're too pooped to go anywhere. My mother might come over. How about you?"

"Sam's family and Aunt Josephine are coming. I'm looking forward to it."

"How are the kids?"

"Rosy and Jake are talking up a storm and Abby is doing well. I couldn't be more proud of them."

"You've come a long way," Santana said.

"That I have."

"You know Mercedes, when Santana told me what happened to you at the supermarket, my heart broke," Ella said, looking at her with kind eyes, "I worry about women in situations like that, but especially black women. I feel like we're the protectors and not the protected. I was glad those men helped you."

"I was fortunate," Mercedes said, sipping her cocoa.

Santana kissed Ella's cheek.

"I would've protected you."

"I know, love."

Mercedes spent the afternoon with them. She enjoyed their company because they were both so funny and warm. Mercedes could see why Santana loved Ella; the woman had a giving heart and generous soul that could make anyone fall in love with her. They laughed and talked, eating sweet potato pie and trading stories. As the sun began to set, she hugged them good-bye with a promise to come again with Sam and the kids.

ooo

All of the Hummels came for Christmas except for Finn, Matt and Lucy who were still on their road trip. Their absence left a void. Mercedes thought of Rachel in her quiet moments, recalling the sister bond they shared.

Early one morning while everyone was asleep, she sat at the kitchen table, writing in her journal, and sipping a big cup of Earl Grey tea, she was wrapped up in her old blue bathrobe, and the sun was peeking over the horizon outside the window covered with glittering white frost; she began humming Happy Days Are Here Again and for a brief moment she heard Rachel's voice accompany hers, it wasn't the thin, whispery voice she had toward the end of her life, it was the big, strong voice she was born with, a voice that carried her family through difficult times. Mercedes stopped writing. She closed her eyes and sang:

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

Then she heard it again, that unmistakable soprano voice that could easily turn into one of a belter:

So let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy days are here again

Mercedes kept singing with the phantom voice.

Altogether shout it now

There's no one

Who can doubt it now

So let's tell the world about it now

Happy days are here again

Your cares and troubles are gone

There'll be no more from now on

From now on…

Then she felt a thin hand holding hers, smelled a sweet perfume, and a brush of long, soft hair against her cheek. They sang together until the end.

Happy days are here again

The skies above are clear again

So, let's sing a song of cheer again

Happy times

Happy nights

Happy days

Are here again!

Mercedes cried at the final words, the tears flowed down her cheeks and Rachel hugged her. They finally sang their duet.

"I miss you," Mercedes said.

The hug lasted a long time. Then she heard Rachel respond, it was faint.

"I love you."

Mercedes cried harder and told her she loved her too.

"We had so many songs to sing together."

She held on for as long as she could and then Rachel vanished. It took her awhile to process what happened and she had to smile because despite how much she missed her, she knew Rachel was at peace.

When the Hummels arrived, the house was filled to the brim and Mercedes was happy to see everyone. On Christmas Eve, Carol, Stacey, Helen and Aunt Josephine helped her cook and the kitchen bustled with activity. They made the traditional Hummel holiday dishes: potato dumplings, sweet and sour purple cabbage, potato fritters, spinach salad with hot bacon dressing, butter cake and apple strudel. They planned to cook the stuffed goose on Christmas day. They also made some of the Jones holiday favorites like sweet potato pie, collard greens cooked with garlic and smoked turkey, macaroni and cheese, and million dollar pound cake.

Burt, Blaine, Kurt, Sam and Stevie carried on the tradition of the gingerbread hearts and baked them late on Christmas Eve while the rest of the family watched old Christmas movies while sipping on mulled cider and hot chocolate; the children were upstairs asleep as multicolored Christmas lights shined on them. Mercedes and Abby thought it would be fun to turn her room into a Christmas room where all the kids slept, so they decorated the walls with sparkling silver snow flakes, and hung lights along the perimeter of the room. They plugged in Santa Claus nightlights into the wall sockets and sprayed fake snow onto her vanity mirror.

And Abby persuaded her mother to get a little tree to put in the corner of the room and it was decorated with plain white lights and glittering blue stars. Jake and Rosy helped sprinkle glitter onto her dresser, though they got more on the floor, but it didn't matter because a sparkling floor added to the ambience. Now the children were upstairs in that marvelous room fast asleep as a snowstorm raged outside. Mercedes allowed Jake and Rosy to play in the room until bedtime, and put them in their cribs. So they wouldn't feel left out, they decorated the twins' room too.

As It's a Wonderful Life played on the television, Mercedes sipped her hot chocolate from her black Santa mug and felt extremely tired. Stacy was beside her. They shared a big, red blanket and Stacey's long, blonde hair shined in the lamplight. Aunt Josephine sat in the leather recliner, knitting an afghan; Helen was curled up on the loveseat drinking mulled cider; and Carol was in front of the fireplace roasting marshmallows. The Christmas tree sparkled in all it's glory in the corner, with stars, multicolored balls of blue, red, green and yellow, silver tinsel and musical notes and underneath were all of the wrapped presents in bright green, red and gold paper. A fire roared in the fireplace and the spicy scent of gingerbread hung in the air. Stacey scooted closer to Mercedes and put her head on her shoulder.

"I'm pooped," she said.

Mercedes smiled.

"Me too. Cooking wears me out."

She was glad to be tired and she welcomed the laughter and talking brought on when the Hummel clan invaded the house. It made her forget all the ugliness her family experienced. Ever since the Target incident, or relapse as she liked to call it, her anxiety actually improved a lot. The bad days decreased and she was grateful for the therapy and her family's support.

"What's that I hear?" Aunt Josephine said, looking up from her knitting, "Sounds like folks singing in the street."

"Probably carolers," Mercedes said, "I'm surprised they're out this late, and it's really snowing hard."

"I think it's nice you have carolers in your neighborhood," Helen said, sipping her cider, "Too bad the kids are asleep."

Aunt Josephine nodded. Carol peeked out the window: "They're getting closer."

Then Mercedes heard the carolers shout in unison:

"Mercedes Hummel, please come to the door!"

Mercedes eyes grew wide.

"They just called my name."

"I bet Sam has something up his sleeve," Stacey said, as she pushed away the blanket and stood up. "Let's go see what they want."

"But we're in our pajamas," Mercedes said.

"We'll put on our coats, come on."

"You know something don't you?" Mercedes said as she left the warm cocoon of the blanket; she wore her oversized plaid flannel pajamas and heavy red socks.

"I swear I don't know a thing," Stacy said.

Everyone grabbed their coats and went to the front door. Burt, Stevie, Blaine and Kurt were already there, wearing their coats too. Sam was missing.

"What's going on? Where's Sam?" Mercedes asked them.

"Your guess is as good as ours, he said he was going to7-11 for some milk," Burt said.

Mercedes opened the door and what she saw on the front lawn was magical. A group of a dozen carolers wearing white coats, each holding a candle, stood with the blue green lights of their Christmas decorations illuminating their faces, snowflakes falling on them. They looked like a band of angels. She went out onto the front porch, waving at them. Then she heard someone playing the guitar and then she heard Sam's voice singing:

"Bring your tired

And bring your shame

Bring your guilt

And bring your pain

Don't you know that's not your name

You will always be much more to me

Every day I wrestle with the voices

That keep telling me I'm not right

But that's alright

'Cause I hear a voice and He calls me redeemed

When others say I'll never be enough

Then the carolers joined him in the chorus.

When others say I'll never be enough

And greater is the One living inside of me

Than he who is living in the world

In the world

In the world

And greater is the One living inside of me

Than he who is living in the world…

He stood in front of the carolers, belting out each note, strumming away on his guitar, his face red from the cold, his green eyes shining in the Christmas lights. When they finished the song, Sam added an extra verse:

"So Mercedes, this song is for you. Merry Christmas Schätzchen. I love you. And greater is the One living inside of you, than he who is living in the world…"

Mercedes was crying from how wonderful it all was. That was her song of strength, and now Sam was singing it to her. This was such a loving, caring thing to do. She didn't even notice how all the kids were crowded on the porch, clapping their hands. Abby held Rosy and Burt held Jake. She walked down the steps in her stocking clad feet, and she didn't even feel the snow beneath the wool socks, and she threw her arms, around him as everyone cheered around. She kissed him, and saw he was crying too.

"How did you do all of this?"

"I got skills, baby," he said, "I love you."

They hugged and kissed until Mercedes realized it was freezing outside and asked all of carolers to join them inside for hot chocolate and treats and they were happy to accept her invitation. Soon the house became rather chaotic with all of the chilly carolers crowded into the living room, but it was so joyous and fun. Now that the kids were wide awake, they joined in the festivities and helped the adults in the kitchen make the hot chocolate and cut up the big vanilla cake they were saving for dinner the next day and serve decorated sugar cookies on a big silver platter. It was an impromptu Christmas party. Since everyone was filled with the holiday spirit, they began singing carols, with Sam playing guitar.

The entire family sang together and Mercedes got to hear Blaine and Kurt's beautiful voices sing a duet of Baby It's Cold Outside. Aunt Josephine sang Blue Christmas, her voice as soulful as Mercedes remembered, when Aunt Josephine sang she was transported back to a time when it was just the two of them in that little house on Christmas Eve, with not many gifts under the tree, but instead they made it special anyway, and they would watch Christmas specials, bake cookies and sing together. It was the only time of year Aunt Josephine sang. She would joke and say her voice was for special occasions. She never worked on Christmas and Mercedes was never alone. As she sang Blue Christmas with only Sam's guitar accompanying her, the living room fell silent, and Mercedes heard all of their holiday memories in Aunt Josephine's rich alto voice. When she was finished, there was thunderous applause and Burt even whistled.

"Now I see where my daughter-in-law gets it from," he said.

Aunt Josephine smiled, suddenly a little shy from all of the attention. Sam put down his guitar and hugged her.

"That was beautiful."

"Thank you, Sam, and you're an excellent guitarist."

Mercedes hugged her too.

"That was every Christmas we spent together," Mercedes said, remembering the smell of million dollar pound cake and roasted turkey wafting throughout the house, and the beat-up television with no cable, but rabbit ears antenna, and the only clear station was PBS. The plastic covering the red couch her Aunt Josephine got on layaway from Sears, and the three All God's Children collectible figurines proudly displayed in the china cabinet in their tiny dining room. The little black children figurines dressed in their Sunday best with kinky hair and patent leather shoes were special because it was one of the few things Aunt Josephine splurged on. No, they didn't have much but they had each other and that was enough.

"Baby girl, I know, I was there, remember?" Aunt Josephine said, kissing her cheek, "Look how far we've come, my Mercy Me."

Tears welled up in Mercedes eyes, falling onto her plump cheeks.

"You haven't called me Mercy Me since – "

"Since you were knee high to a duck, sneaking jam from the cupboard?"

Mercedes laughed.

"I was always getting into something."

"That you were, but I wouldn't have traded you for anything. I love you, baby."

"I love you too," She said, hugging her again.

The kids played in the middle of the living room until the adults saw it was after midnight and told them it was bedtime. Rosy and Jake were fighting sleep but by the time their grandparents took them upstairs, they were asleep in their arms. The party winded down after that, and then the carolers said good night and wished them all a Merry Christmas. Stacey, Helen and Stevie cleaned up the living room, gathering up the empty mugs and napkins while Kurt, Blaine and Aunt Josephine tackled the kitchen. Their family told them everything was covered and to go to bed.

"Merry Christmas," Stevie and Helen said over their shoulders. "Go to bed, we'll take care of everything."

Sam and Mercedes went upstairs to the bedroom, their arms wrapped around each other. Once Sam closed the door, he kissed her, guiding her toward the bed. He smelled like gingerbread and chocolate. Mercedes stood still as he removed her pajamas, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of her voluptuous nude body in the moonlight. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs grazing over her large, erect nipples. She shivered. Sam pulled back the covers, picked her up and put her in the bed, covering her up. Mercedes waited for him to undress, which he did in ten seconds flat, and he was hard and ready for her.

He positioned himself on top of her, and thrust inside her, grinding his hips, and she lay beneath him, enjoying the late-night love session, he took his time stroking her, nice and slow, filling her up and satisfying the void within her. They kissed as they made love, she squeezed his firm buttocks and he moaned. After they came, he lay on top of her in the afterglow, his blonde head rested on the soft cushion of her full bosom. She ran her fingers through his hair.

"That feels good," he mumbled as she massaged his scalp.

"Thank you for my gift."

He raised his head and kissed her full lips.

"You're welcome. I'm proud of you."

Mercedes kissed him.

"You make it easy to be who I am. I love you."

Sam smiled at her in the darkness. They kissed again and soon they needed each other again and Mercedes turned around and got on all fours, knowing Sam loved her in this position because he could admire her big, gorgeous, rear end that jiggled with each thrust. When he slid into her once more, she moaned at how good it felt, and they made love three more times before falling asleep exhausted but satisfied. Mercedes never felt so happy.

END NOTES: Thank you for reading and reviewing my story!

[nofreelunchquotes]

W.I. Whiting, Hardscrabble: or, Ballad of the Free Lunch Bar, 1891

“This world is like a crowded car;   Some favored few, perhaps, Can get a seat, but most of us   Must hang on by the straps.” — Manhattan Idylls.

We may live without poetry, music, and art, We may live without conscience, and live without heart, We may live without friends, we may live without books, But civilized man cannot live without cooks! — Lucile.

Give ear to my story, for now do I find   A saying of Sancho’s in memory’s keeping: “May blessings attend him, the best of mankind,   Who was first the inventor of sleeping.”

Tho’ my saying, like Sancho’s, may never endure,   Yet in loud, thankful strains I will sing it afar; Every blessing be his — he deserves them, I’m sure —   The saint who invented the free lunching bar.

When the glory of earth’s great inventions grow dim,   To the weary and worn it will shine a fixed star, This genuine blessing that cometh from him —   The saint who invented the free lunching bar.

O Holy St. Peter! when this life-saving mortal,   Or sooner or later, leave this world of sin, And seeks for admission at thy sacred portal,   Suspend all your questions and pass him straight in.

When everything’s “busted” on which we have “banked,”   And to our own down-sinking there cometh no rally, When our “ready” hath been by the pool sellers “yanked,”   Who nightly do business in Beelzebub alley.

When “bucking de tiger” with clock automatic,   Whose fast-holding hands scarcely err in their mission, Our ventures are “knocked” by its movements erratic.   If “puts,” “calls,” or “straddles” straight away to perdition.

When “long” of the market, if slaughtering bruin   Doth level our castle with speedy disaster, If “short,” when the bovine doth show by our ruin   No sweat pity lives with the merciless master.

When those who loud boasted of friendship’s strong tie,   Declaring our welfare was big at their heart, But who only had on our pocket an eye,   And played in their dealings a shysterer’s part.

When the specie, it once was our pleasure to share,   Like friends in rejoicing, has wandered afar, When smote by the cyclone of want, and despair,   How sweet to our vision the free lunching bar.

When pursued by that vixen, a stranger to pity,   Whose only delight is to torture and tear, An oasis remains in the big bustling city.   It blooms, where a free lunch the stranded may share.

When struck with religion, the truant wife goes   To howl hallelujah at camp of salvation, The breadwinner wanders where garish light throws   A glory around this bright spot of creation.

The knife that hath pierced the strong breath of the eaters,   When tramps in their greed drove it in to the handle, The food where have circuss’d the flies and mosquitoes,   Looks tempting when viewed o’er by gaslight or candle.

Ye writers of fiction, why journey afar   To people your pages in distant locality? Like sere leaves of autumn, here characters are,   In motley profusion, and somber reality.

When “pulpit drum” beating, the preacher no more   Exhorts fallen man to forsake his wild ways, When loose from the moorings that held him of yore,   To the sweet saving grace of a free lunch he strays.

When the doctor hath seen all his patients laid low,   Who his medicine took as the label directed, Ten to one you will find him augmenting the “show”   Where the “lay out” of poultry is quickly dissected.

When lawyers no more are expounding the laws,   Some bogus to assist, others guarding from harm, Nor judges “stand in” with a fraudulent cause,   “As aforesaid” goose-picking to them hath a dream.

He hath shone as a star and won plaudits from all;   He is now a “back number,” alas! the dark day! No more head and shoulders above like King Saul!   Here, star, stock, and audience all equal can play.

Let poets wax warm as thy sing of the glory   That classical Greece in her infancy knew; But search all the pages of Homer’s great story,   And not a free lunch bar doth is to our view.

When from the Imperial her eagles did soar,   With the swiftness of lightning, the strength of the gale, Search the eloquent pages of Gibbon all o’er,   No free lunch is there to adorn the great tale.

With Virgil, and Dante, seek Pluto’s domain;   What horrors they picture, what wonders they tell! Admit it you must when you view earth again;   In the way of free lunches Chicago beats h—ll.

Go read with attention his wonderful pages,   Who Hamlet created, Macbeth, and Iago; The peer of all poets, the king of all sages,   But Falstaff ne’er knew the free lunch of Chicago.

When that sturdy sea captain, brave Christopher, came   And the veil drew aside that concealed half the world, Deep writing on History’s page his great name,   And the cross-bearing standard in triumph unfurled.

To that power low-bending whose strong arm defended,   Through days of long watching and peril’s dark night, But with addd fervor his thanks had ascended.   Had the “spread” of our day cheered the wanderer’s sight.

Talk of sentences silver, and words that are golden,   They all have some dross, here and those purest gold When spoken to on who hath scarcely beholden   A good square meal lately, “fall to,” or “lay hold.”

The silver-tongued orator charming mankind,   Ne’er made a more eloquent speech, tho’ ’tis brief, Than when the bartender asks, are you inclined   For more chicken salad, boned turkey, and beef?

Demosthenes, Cicero, Sheridan, Burke,   In that world-renowned trial where spell bound all sat; Lord Chatham, great Webster in his grandest work,   Are all idle ravings when measured with that.

When the swift wheel of time finds the race-runner stranded,   For fortune not always on turf-banners perch, But if in his fall at a free lunch is landed,   Tho’ left in the “soup” h’s not left in the lurch.

Whatever goes up is as sure to come down —   A saw, politicians find out to be true; And those who have ruled o’er the country or town   “Thank the Lord” for free lunches, when ballots are few.

When Wall Street no more is a wellspring of “boodle,”   Gay brokers who erst washed their dinners with punches, When each lamb is sheared, and there comes no new noodle,   Inspired by schooners now joy in free lunches.

When the jury and court both sustain the fraud deal   Of shystering brokers’ bas, bogus transaction, And scoop, sweat-stained specie to square the sure steal,   The lunch bar then blooms with an added attraction.

When society’s darling — but some might think dude   Would fit that rare specimen very much better, But here I would mention nor wish to be rude —   They both are evolved from identical letter.

So be it, but where he no more leads the mazy,   When favors are often nonsensical trash, And the season has made him for cash almost crazy,   Hocks his dress suit with “Huncle” and comes here for hash.

Of all sights that show to the dude’s vacant stare,   When his chronic shortness of rhino appeals The brightest, when he doth perambulate where   Aloft in their glory flame forth the three balls.

When his back load of gold has been all dumped in ‘Frisco,   On wining and dining, and all pleasure there; When on chasing and racing his last dollars risk O,   Not forgetting the summer, nor midwinter fair.

When the “lay out” at “Grand” fills the miner no more,   No more their gold toothpicks all proudly doth flourish, Ere trudging again to the “diggings” of yore,   For the long tramp his system at free lunch doth nourish.

How suave is the manner, how smooth is the such,   Of the bubble promoter, he’s here without doubt; Unchecked by refusal, he’ll stick like a leech,   If you have the “yellow” and he finds it out.

With millions in sight for himself and all those   Who invest in his fancies, but yet, Oh, but yet, When naught but the briars are left of the row,   The floater’s fair form is found filling this set.

Behold the inventor! whose anticipation   Shows horses, and houses, and treasures so vast, When time, the accoucheur, brings a still-born creation,   Like all patent failures he comes here at last.

Far and wide o’er the world it had been his to roam,   All sciences knew, and all tongues and all people; Ring the bell when you would the sage always was home —   His classic attainments rose high like the steeple.

“Au fait” in all customs that govern each “lay out”   At home and abroad, and with lore and sincerity The same could unfold; but this game can “play out”   With swiftness amazing, and wondrous dexterity.

When forth from God’s country the Canuck doth roam,   Allured by big dollars that fancy doth show — But finds not the three meals that cheered him at home,   The lunch bar abridges his measure of woe.

When the old homestead kitchen no more glads the eye,   Nor the deep-laden table can bring a relief; When thoughts of the past start the tear or the sigh     Here is found by the exile a “joy in his grief.”

How often the dailies, our pleasure and pride,   The world’s great promotes of knowledge and right, Would fail in their good — as the universe wide —   Did the free lunch no more glad the editor’s sight.

The joy of the poet, ah! little we think!   As we read and yawn over his freshly ground numbers, How oft he was rescued when nearing the brink   From sinking untimely to silence and slumbers.

The “bust” banker’s stay, he who knew not denial   Ere her shadows black fortune did over him fling; The tramp’s sweet Elysium in his dark day of trial,   And hence all this folly I gratefully sing.

And let fate do her worst, she can ne’er “knock us out,”   While the lunch bar is blooming with cold cut and splendor; The saint knows it well, who goes homeless about,   And the sinner who’s ben on a jolly old “bender.”

Ho! tramps of Chicago, of every degree,   Each one without money, and some without worth, Let big thanks go upward, all fervent and free,   For “striking” the greatest food center on earth.

In song let it rise, ye conglomerate sinners,   For music, says musical Moore ne’er betrays; And when in sad wanderings we come short of dinners,   Remember the free lunch will cheer our dark days.

[Footnote: Thus that delightful Irishman, that sweet singer of the Emerald Isle, Tom Moore:

“Music! oh, how faint, how weak,   Language fades before thy spell! Why should feeling ever speak,   When thou canst breathe her soul so well? Friendship’s balmy words may feign,   Love’s are e’en more false than they; Oh! ’tis only music’s strain   Can sweetly soothe, and not betray.” ]