#My hearts goes out to my American mutuals and everyone else who didn’t want this

[aliceonsaturn]

Some of you are idiots. I’m across the boarder but some of you are dang idiots. That’s all I have to say as both a woman and a person of colour cuz wtf

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 22

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month

Hating LIla is apparently a family trait

First< Previous > Next

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“Uh I hate this,” Chloe picks at her uniform like it's a disgusting growth.

“I think you look as nice as you always do,” Marion says cheerfully, turning around on his seat to look back at her and Kagami.

“Marion that is by far the worst you have ever insulted me,”

“It was a complement-” Marion doges her whack.

“Marinette! Hit your brother for me,” Chloe demands, standing up to try and reach him.

“It’s more gratifying if you do it yourself, trust me,” Marinette flicks through her phone, not bothering to look up, “I can pin your uniform to look more flattering if you like,”

“Nette you are the best!” Chloe hugs her from behind, awkward to be sure with the seat and all, yep that's the only reason, not Kagami's death glare that can be felt through the seat.

“Oh Marinette you can also pin mine,” Lila asks, as sweetly as acid, “Or weren't you going to offer the rest of the class?”

“No actually Lila she wasn't,” Marion sneers, ignoring Marinette trying to pull him back into the seat, “As I’ve made it quite clear none of you are our friends, so she isn’t obligated to do anything for you,”

“That’s so mean,” Lila sniffles, everyone is too busy feeling guilty to comfort her.

“Weren't you friends with MDC Lila?” Marion asks as sweetly as acid, “Why not try asking them?"

With that Marion turns back to his seat and starts scrolling through his phone, ignoring Lila's attempts at guilting. He gets a notification from Marinette.

I can speak for myself  

U can nicely tell them no- I  can tell them to fck off

That wasn't very nice

Im done with nice

Whats wrong?

Marion looks up seeing Marinette looking over him concerned, he sighs and texts back.

Nervous

Dont worry Bruce hasn't told them yet

Its going to be awkward

We’ll get through it- Pound it?

Marion looks back up, Marinette is smiling at him holding out her hand.

“Pound it,”

They pull up to the school, the grandiose of Wayne academy is nothing to sneeze at. Brick buildings, iron work, Marion has to force Marinette to put her sketchbook away. They are escorted around the campus by a student. They’ll be split up and put into a range of different classes to make the best out of their week there.

“3 o’clock,” Marinette bumps into him, Marion lets his gaze slide over, spotting Damian.

“Wasn't Lila saying on the way over here that she was great friends with him?”

“Mari don't,” Marinette hisses, tugging at his sleeve, “It’s weird enough without pulling him in to our grudge match,”

“Nothing bonds siblings more than a mutual hatred of Lila, exhibit A,” He points back and forth between them, “I’m going to do it,”

“Don't you dare-”

“Hey Damian!” Marion shouts, waving his hand for the entire hallway to turn and stare.

Damian turns around with a scowl, hardly lessening when he spots them.

“Marion, just what do you think you’re doing,” Kagami scolds, as Damian stalks over.

“Lila,” Marion smirks back, looking over to the girl who pales at an actual Wayne walking over, apparently she had actually decided to look up what they look like.

“Oh this is going to be good,” Chloe steps back, content to watch the show.

“Hey Dami,” Marion goes to sling an arm around his shoulder.

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian sidesteps his attempt, preferring to stand closer to Marinette.

“How’s Cat-fred?” Marion smiles, getting Damian’s scowl to lessen slightly, so he smiles brighter.

“He’s doing well,”

“Good good…” Marion shuffles, no longer able to look directly at him, “How’s the family?”

Marinette gives him a sideways look that clearly says ‘you did this to yourself’.

“Why are you asking?” Damian narrows his eyes, and Marion knows he fucked up.

Nette help please!

“I wanted to know when I can come over next for a rematch,” Marinette gracefully lets him off the hook.

“Evidently sparring at the manor is at risk of interruption,” Damian notes, deep in thought, “We should plan an alternative meeting space,”

“That sounds great,” Marinette smiles, catching Damian in between their grins.

Damian just nods and walks away, Marion smiles and waves.

“You’re an idiot,” Marinette punches him in the shoulder, getting him to lower his arm.

“We’ve established that, thanks,” Marion rubs his shoulder with a pout, “However look over there,”

Lila having an aneurysm, surrounded by the class berating her with questions.

“Worth it,” Marion grins, going for a subtle fist bump.

“Agreed,” Marinette returns the gesture.

“Lila why didn’t you say hi?”

“Why didn’t he say hi?”

“He must not have seen me,” Lila’s lip quivers in a practiced motion, “Marinette was standing in front of me,”

“Or were you hiding behind Marinette?” Marion calls over, actually voluntarily walking towards the beast.

“What?! Of course I wasn't!” Lila shouts, her glare sending him a clear warning, one he was fully prepared to ignore.

“Then why didn’t you just move?” Marion asks oh so innocently.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Lila sounds shy but her face screams murder, as people hang around to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“Then you were doing it to be polite and complaining about Marinette is quite rude,” Marion has to hold back a smirk as he hears an ‘oh snap’ from his audience.

“I- you!-”

“That’s nice Lila,” Marinette interrupts, walking away like the badass she is, “How about we get to class,”

Marion goes to class, having the fortune to be lumped in with Lila. And yes he does mean fortune because while Lila is trying to brag and get the students under her thumb they are happily ignoring her, focusing instead on Marion’s tips for learning French. When Lila switches tactics saying she can speak Italian Marion switches over to fluent Italian, something he had learned from his Nona. He then breaks out his Mandarin, daring Lila to try and fake knowing a language.

Lila goes quite, just kidding you know that's not true. She starts to pull students aside whispering to them. Marion isn't sure if she is intentionally loud enough that he can hear her or if it’s just his enhanced hearing.

“He’s a bully, I know he’s just trying to act nice to get something out of you,” Lila warns a student who looks disgruntled to have basically been pulled into the corner away from the group.

“He’s a Wayne?” Ah so he’s heard the not-so rumour, “What could I possibly have that he doesn't?”

“He’s not a Wayne!” Lila snaps, before regaining her composure, “I actually know the Waynes,”

“... because they’re in your class?”

“No!” She stops her foot, “They made up that rumour! I know because I’m personal friends with all the Waynes,”

“Alright show a picture,” The guy shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets, Marion reminds himself to give them the award of ‘you’re smarter than everyone in my class, it's not much but it’s something!’.

“ What? ” Lila seethes, looking ready to tear his eyeballs out to have an excuse not to show him.

“All I’m saying is I’ve seen multiple pictures of them with the Waynes plus, I heard that they actually talked to Damian Wayne this morning!” He actually looks in awe at this fact.

“I would hardly call that a conversation,” Lila crosses her arms, looking to the side like a child.

“No you don't understand!” He employers making a wild hand gesture as if trying to show how amazing it is, “He’s the ice prince, if someone else calls his name or even tried to talk to him he would just ignore them, but he actually walked over and talked to them,”

“He saw me-”

“Look I don’t really care, this argument isn't worth having,” The guy puts up placating hands, the gesture having the exact opposite effect on Lila, “Marion seems cool, Wayne or not, so yeah,”

Marion tries not to smile as one by one Lila is shot down. Her anger rising so high Marion is sure she would have been akumatized three times over by now.

“Hey what's with Lila, she seems to have it out for you?” The first guy to talk to her whispers, turns out his name is James and was very confused when Marion gifted him a small paper trophy.

“Oh she does,” Marion shrugs, filling out the worksheet idly.

“Ok… why?” James presses, the small paper trophy sitting on his desk.

“Hmmm…” Marion leans back, tipping his seat, “It’s a paradox,”

“What is?”

“If I tell you the truth, you’ll probably think I’m lying and her accusations will seem more believable,” Marion reasons, looking up at the ceiling, “If I fake ignorance, you’ll probably just take her word for it, seems like a trap,”

“You’re taking this way too seriously,” James shakes his head, and Marion cracks a grin.

“Sorry, just happy to have some new friends,” His smile lessens, becoming melancholy, “It’s been awhile,”

“What? But you’re so,” James makes another one of his wild hand gestures,  “ Nice ,”

Marion just shrugs, but some people notice how he quickly glances over at Lila talking with someone else. Any further questions are cut off by the bell.

“Well, seems that's our cue to leave, now tell me are American school lunches really as bad as I’m led to believe?”

“You poor little french boy,” James shake his head,  “You have no idea the horrors you will face,”

“This is so much worse than I thought it would be,” Marion looks down at his tray in disgust, “This is a private school?”

“I told you so,” James shrugs, walking through the cafeteria to find a seat.

“Hold up a sec,” Marion says, spotting Damian, not talking but rather trying to ignore someone talking to him, “Dami!”

“Don’t call me Dami,” Damian pushes Marion off him this time, the person who was talking to him looks shocked that his arms aren’t broken.

He puts his tray on the table and grabs Damian's shoulders.

“I have an urgent problem,”

“Cheng-Dupain, from what I know of you that is a massive exaggeration,” Damian brushes him off again and Marion’s scared the other kid is having a heart attack, “Now stop bothering me, it can wait for later,”

“I didn’t take any pictures of Cat-fred!” Marion cries, flopping onto Damian, who doesn't bother pushing him off a third time.

“... Understandable,” Damian snatches Marion’s phone, letting Marion input the code over his shoulder, “This is an oversight on your part,”

“So you’ll send some to me?” Marion grins, using Damian’s head as an armrest as he watches him enter his number.

“Yes,” Damian passes Marion’s phone back and Marion grabs his food.

“Great, see you later!” Marion stands up, ruffling Damian's hair before leaving.

“What was that!?” He hears the other person shout as he walks away.

“What was that?!” James yells, and whoops the entire cafeteria is staring between him and Damian.

“Do you ever learn from your mistakes?” Marinette asks, materialising beside him.

“No?” Marion scoffs, putting his and on his hip, “Why would I?”

“Are you actually siblings?” James still looks in shock but at least he isn’t gaping and gasping for air anymore.

“Yes?” Of course they were siblings, they are twins? Is that not clear?

“God-fucken dammit Mari!” Marinette hisses, “That’s not what they meant!”

“Oh,” Marion says softly, totally not jumping as Damian materialises next to him.

“Cheng-Dupain, it was this absentminded nature that caused this rumour to get out of hand in the first place,”

“Yeah… you are going to have to be way more specific,” Marion looks around the whole cafeteria is still staring at them, trading whispers.

“No we are not related, that is a baseless rumour,” Damian glares at James, making him recoil.

“Right… baseless,” Marion mumbles, getting kicked in the shin by Marinette.

“Adopted then?” James foolishly asks.

“ No ,” and yep now James looks afraid for his life.

“Haha, you know you don’t have to seem so offended by that?” Marion slings his arm around Damian’s shoulder, silently rejoicing that he only gets a withered glare this time.

“Like I said,” Lila’s voice carries over the still quite cafeteria, “The Waynes were telling me how they hate that rumour, the meer idea they are connected to the twins is-”

“ Excuse me ,” Damian slams his hand down on the table, right next to Lila making her jump out of her skin,  “But who are you, and why do you think you know anything about my family and what we think,”

“I just-”

“You presume you’re of enough importance to understand my feelings towards the matter?” Damian stands tall and looks down his nose at her, “You aren’t,”

“Lila,” Alya whispers to her as Damian walks away, “I think you should just let them sort it out, it’s a family matter,”

“Who is that?” Damian demands when he gets back to them, “And how do I destroy her?”

“Don’t worry about it Damian, she's just doing it to get attention,” Marinette explains calmly.

“Lila Rossi,” Marion has other plans, “She’s a Liar, provide proof she doesn't know your family or anyone for that matter and she will be destroyed,”

Damian gives a curt nod and walks away, back to his friend who is still gaping like the rest of the room.

“ Mari ,” Marinette smacks him.

“I merely shared my wisdom,” Marion stroke his invisible beard, “What he chooses to do with it is up to him,”

“Ugh, that was a long day,” Plagg groans, curling up in the middle of his pillow.

“Plagg you slept in my bag the whole time,” Marion flops onto his bed, and it wasn't over they had to go on patrol soon.

“Which is far more disruptive than a bed,” Plagg complains, letting Marion curl up next to him, “Not comfortable at all,”

“Speaking of not being comfortable…” Marinette trails off, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Our brother insisting we aren’t related?” Marion curls around to look over at her.

“Very strange feeling,” Marinette nods, absentmindedly pulling her feet onto the bed.

“He yelled at Lila,” Marion smiles up at the ceiling.

“Does that make him an honorary Dupain-slash-Cheng?” Marinette smiles over at him.

“Yeah…” Marion’s grin drops, “... Or Dupain/Cheng/Wayne,”

“... You want to tell them?” Marinette asks in her horrible tone that reminds him of being back in Paris and trying to stifle emotions.

“I mean, yeah,” He sits up, crossing his legs, “They’re family right? I want to know them, do you?”

“He seemed upset when they called us siblings,” Marinette turns to face him, the Kwamis watching their little meeting from the outside.

“He seemed more upset with Lila, said he was insulted by it,” Marion reasons, he feels like they’re back in Paris dressed as Ladybug and Chat Noir having three in the morning conversations on rooftops.

“It’s Lila, anything she says can piss someone off,” Marinette sighs, flopping back on the bed, destroying the illusion, “Tikki what do you think?”

“This is a decision you have to make on your own Marinette,” Tikki advises sagely.

“Tiiikkkiiiiii,” Marinette whines like a three year old

“Alright, I never had a family but I have the other Kwamis,” Tikki concedes, explaining to the twins giving her all their attention, “I am separated from Nooro and Dussu, and if family feels like them I do not want you to be separated,”

“What if they get mad?” Marinette asks, fidgeting.

“Then you’ll find a way to work through it,” Tikki smiles at them, “You’re Ladybug and Chat Noir, there isn’t anything you can’t do,”

“Just do it kid!” Plagg shouts, giving up on pretending to nap, “If it turns out bad at least you know!”

“Plagg!”

“What is it Sugar Cube?” Plagg asks sweetly, getting chased out the room moments later.

“So, we doing this?” Marion asks, after all their Kwamis have left.

“I guess so,” Marinette shugs, bringing out her phone, Marion holds her hand for comfort as they wait for the phone to ring.

“Hello?” Bruce picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Bruce,” Marion says, sounding strained even to himself.

“Marinette, Marion,” Bruce answers, pleasantly surprised, “Is everything alright?”

“How do you feel about telling everyone else?” Marion cuts straight to the chase, he can’t be bothered to run.

“... are you sure?” Marion can feel Marinette tension grow at the question, “I want to but they’ll all be surprised, it might ruin your trip,”

“We got sent to the hospital the first week being here,” Marion reasons, he should technically still be on bed rest.

“... That's true,”

“So?” He prompts after a too long pause.

“When do you want to tell them?”

“Tomorrow,” Marinette speaks up for the first time.

Well I guess that's that

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Taglist:

@technicallyburninggarden @fusser90  @misslenamooney @superbwhispersconnoisseur @biodad-bruce-month @nalu-ismyjam @the-one-woman-army @rosesandsailboats @blackmagicforever @zeneralla @ivymala07 @tired-butterfly @tired-butterfly @Ranger-gothamite @A-star-with-a-human-name @enchanted-nerd

[bellemorte180]

The Taylor Swift/folklore album coming of age story breakdown for Caroline that no one asked for but I’m giving anyway.

Okay, so I’m OBESSESSED with Taylor Swift’s new album. I do not think I’ve listened to anything else since it came out. It feels like a giant coming of age story for Caroline and how it leads her to Klaus; and their forever.

So, my brain developed an entire plot bunny based around the songs. I’m going to share it with you knowing I’ll never write it (meaning its free game for anyone who wants this idea). Now, I’m taking the songs out of order on the album.

Starts after season 4 of TVD- except Klaus never left for NOLA and no magic baby (just would not work for what I have planned). Also, Liz was killed by Silas.

The story starts the summer after their senior year of high school.

So let's get started......

seven

It begins here. This part will show where Caroline is right now. Stefan is gone (Silas really is dead, and Stefan is soul searching). Damon and Elena are shaking up, which is SUPER hard for Caroline to see. Tyler is off with a werewolf pack again, trying to lick his wounds from his other back being slaughtered. Bonnie is dead-which everyone knows about.

Caroline is alone and struggling with mourning Bonnie and her mother, Tyler once again leaving, Matts off with Rebekah and Elena being with Damon.

This part of the story would be looking back to her childhood and wondering if college is what she wants. Caroline is questioning everything and what eternity has in store for her.

mirrorball

Caroline goes out to a club or bar just outside of town. She runs into Klaus and they have a night where they dance. They have a good time and Caroline is reminded about the good side of Klaus. He shows her parts of herself that she buried deep down inside. They laugh and for a moment, the grief, pain and loneliness melts away. He shows her the good parts of vampirism that she denied herself.

It’s the beginning of the end in many ways.

august

Their affair begins here. They have the summer of their lives. No one pays any attention to what Caroline is doing because everyone is gone except Elena; but she is so focused on Damon. Klaus and Caroline find a moment of peace together, but Caroline is counting down to it ending. Summer is coming to an end and Tyler called her. She is to start college soon but still so unsure what to do. In the end, the guilt of her feelings for Klaus catch up to her and she ends it.

Elena and Caroline go to college, rooming together; but Caroline cannot get Klaus out of her mind.

hoax

Klaus is fighting for Caroline to give him a real chance. Caroline keeps holding off, but she knows she wants him; but is terrified of what Elena and Tyler would say. Tyler is back and wants to resume a relationship with her. She knows that Klaus loves her. She has known that for a long time. Its her feelings that she hasn’t figured out. She feels that she is twisting a knife in Elena’s and Tyler’s back: but at the same time, they constantly hurt her by leaving (Tyler) and being with Damon (Elena).

But Caroline cannot make a decision.

So, she goes to him one night and they have sex.

illicit affairs

They are sleeping together regularly but hiding it. His family, who are all are back, and her friends have no idea. She is in a relationship with Tyler but sleeping with Klaus on the side. It’s a mess and she knows that it is wrong, but she is at the point where she can’t give him up. She does little things for him and he makes her feel happy.

This goes on for months.

It doesn’t end until Tyler catches them in bed together.

mad woman

Here is where shit hits the fan. Caroline is being pulled in a thousand directions. Tyler is pissed and hurt, which Caroline knows is a legitimate reaction. Elena is playing the victim, not believing that Caroline would sleep with Klaus. Klaus wants her to full commit to him. Caroline feels that she is at war with everyone.

She goes on the defensive and serves some just truths here. She tells Elena exactly how it feels to watch her with Damon. She tells Tyler how hurt she feels because she was always put second best with him. She points fingers and it makes pretty much everything worse.

She even gets into an argument with Klaus; who cannot fathom what she is feeling right now.

epiphany

It’s Matt who calms her down. He tells her that, yes, he is disappointed that she slept with Klaus but not because he is “Klaus” but because she didn’t end things with Tyler first. He points out why Elena would be hurt by Caroline being with Klaus, because he killed her and Jenna. Klaus is Elena’s monster, but also understands that Damon is Caroline’s. It was a slap in the face but something Caroline needed to hear.

She realizes here that she needs to sort out her life. That she is in the rut that is suffocating her in a way that she cannot handle. She has an epiphany and realizes that she is not meant for that small town anymore; and that she needs out.

That she needs to figure out what she wants out of life and not do everything that is expected of her.

The first thing she does is drop out of university.

The second was to sell her house.

my tears ricochet

This is Tyler’s goodbye. He is demonizing her to high heaven for sleeping with the man who killed 12 of his friends and his mother. He is making her out to be a villain and Caroline cannot blame him. The conversation is bad. The fight and they both say a bunch of hurtful things to each other. Caroline knows she messed up and is sorry for it; but she refuses to wish it never happened. It taught her so much of herself that she cannot apologize for it.

She promised Tyler that she did love him but it just wasn’t enough. They end things on VERY bad terms.

Caroline understands that her relationship with Tyler was never going to be the same.

betty

Next is Elena. This goodbye goes better. It is heartfelt and sad. Matt gave Elena the same talk he did Caroline. Caroline tells Elena that the worse thing she had ever done was betraying her friend with Klaus but like she said with Tyler, she does not regret it.

Elena is not ready to forgive Caroline; but neither is Caroline ready to forgive Elena for Damon.

They part ways with broken hearts but a mutual understanding that maybe one day they could be friends again.

exile

This is Klaus’s goodbye. She loves him and tells him so. She just isn’t ready to be his forever yet. They fight and they cry. They have sex but it is that broken goodbye sex that ends in empty feelings and heart ache.

She grabs the things that she had left behind at his place. She does not know what is going to happen from here but she knows that she has so many things to figure out for herself.

Klaus lets her go with a promise of forever when she is ready; even though he is bitter about it.

Caroline leaves Mystic Falls, exiling herself to the unknown.

this is me trying

The first few months are hard. She roams around the US for a good while, driving from state to state. She learns more about being a vampire on her own and just lives. She starts writing in a journal but its more of a long love letter to Klaus. It’s the stories of where she has been where she is going.  This is the most painful time for Caroline because she feels absolutely alone.

Then she runs into Stefan. They have a heart to heart about Damon, Elena, Klaus and Tyler. It really puts everything into perspective for Caroline. She learns that Klaus left Mystic Falls and moved to NOLA with his family. She continues to write in that journal and slowly is coming to terms with everything she had felt.

She slowly begins to heal.

cardigan

This is where Caroline really comes to terms with Klaus and how he made her feel. He made her feel strong and loved. Everyone called her a fool for falling in love with him, but she knew him. She knew a side to him that no one else did. She felt passion, love and what it meant to be wanted.

She looks at all the things she had taken with her when she fled. She remembers the moments during that summer together that she would cherish. She no longer looks back on Mystic Falls as a time of pain and regret. She no longer feels the stab of pain thinking on Tyler and Elena.

She starts to feel happiness again.

the last great American dynasty

She ends up in Rhode Island and finds a house for sale. It has this rich story behind it about a woman who loved a man so much it killed him. Turns out the woman was Rebekah, as in Klaus’s sister and a tragic tale of one of her many lost loves. Caroline takes this as a sign that she is meant to have this old house. She buys it (having the money from the house she sold in Mystic Falls).

The house is in disrepair and she fixes it up. She thinks back on the time that she had an affair with Klaus and how much she misses him.

When the house is completed, she pulls out that old journal and reads. She begins to plan for a future, knowing that Klaus would be apart of it. 

the 1

Caroline realizes that Klaus is the one. She loves him in an epic love she always dreamed about. She thinks on him fondly and the memories they shared. She learns snippets from Stefan about what Klaus is up to. He ran into him while passing through NOLA. She learns about the bartender Cami and that Klaus had a weird infatuation with her. Its not love, Stefan assures her but the thought that he moved on still stings.

On a whim, wondering if he would respond; Caroline sends him the journal filled with love letters; a specific one at the end saying that she is ready for forever.

Then she waits.

peace

Klaus shows up at the house in Rhode Island. They know that its not going to be perfect. They have a massive heart to heart about what they want and what it means. Klaus vows that Cami was nothing more than a distraction while Caroline promises that she is ready to take that leap.

She does not care what anyone things anymore.

She lets Elena fall in love with Damon; not caring if Elena is betrayed by her falling in love with Klaus.

She lets Tyler run wild with his wolves; not caring if he hates her now for falling in love with Klaus.

Klaus offers her forever and she gladly takes his hand. She never sells that house and they come back to it, making it a home base for them from time to time. 

He takes her across the globe; Paris, Rome and Tokyo...and so much more. 

Caroline hands over her heart to him....and finds peace in that.

invisible string  

Fast forward 100 years. Klaus and Caroline are still together. They have connected in a way that Caroline never felt in previous relationships. They look back on their life together; reciting how it began and how it has come so far.

They love, laugh and enjoy life the best they can; making plans for the next 100 years.

[dotaccountant]

(LOVIE SIMONE, 23, FEMALE, SHE/HER) ⮕ Hey, isn’t that [DOROTHEA “DOT” HARTLEY]? I heard that they were a part of the crew. According to the wiki it says they’re the [ACCOUNTANT] of the group. Avid fans say that they’re [PRAGMATIC], but that they can also be [MOODY]. Maybe that’s because they’re a [CAPRICORN]. This gossip forum says they joined the group because [SHE NEEDS THE MONEY]. I wonder if that’s true. I also heard they [DO NOT] believe in ghosts. I wonder if their time in arcane inc will change that. (peyton, 23, est.)

mun info.

hey girly! just wanted to let you know i literally cannot handle this right now :)

uhh okay!! my name is peyton, i’m 23, i’m a college senior, i’m a libra, i’ve been rping for [redacted] years. i managed to escape for like two years until quarantine hit so here i am, like a dog going back to its’ vomit. i’m an illiterate roman roy enthusiast lesbian who is just excited to be here. my discord is ilyinichna#9370 (not me outing myself as a russian lit nerd. disgusting). please feel free to add me!!!

some cheeky stats.

full name: dorothea eloise hartley nicknames: dot by the crew, dottie exclusively by her mother, lame ass nerd by me birthdate: december 31st, 1997 occupation: accountant for arcane inc. nationality: american

orientation: bisexual moral alignment: lawful good myers-briggs: infp temperament: melancholic

about.

it snowed the day dot was born, her mother would say fondly as she reminisced of better times for the two. edna hartley always made it a point to say no matter what she was conceived out of love and for awhile, dot believed that. her parents met when her mother was touring europe and she fell for a charming french aspiring writer, louis, who said all of the right things. not long after their summer romance, edna found out she was pregnant and at first louis was thrilled. he proposed on the spot. edna had dreams of becoming a stage actress so the two flew out to a shoebox apartment in new york to start their little family.

except edna never got her big break and louis never even started the next great novel and the bills were piling up. they were getting money from edna’s family, but louis’s pride wouldn’t accept it any longer. he took two jobs while edna stayed home with baby dot. 

she loved dot and dot herself never doubted it, but she was certainly not ready to be a mother. she was immature and treated her only daughter more like a best friend than her child. taking care of a child all day with no escape took a strain on edna and eventually took a strain on her marriage. what started as harsh whispers would soon turn into screaming matches that dot could hear through the thin walls. it was that way for years and dot looked at her parents differently. she had resentment for her father and the feeling was mutual, he blamed them for the fact he never achieved his dream. the older dot grew she soon was the one taking care of edna, who some days couldn’t even get out of bed.

dot comes home from school at fifteen to see her and edna’s bags packed. she says the two of them are going to california and dot goes with her without any hesitation. a new start was what they needed, they could look out for each other.

except it wasn’t. edna and dot both work odd jobs to make ends meet and when dot isn’t at school she’s accompanying her mother to auditions that she doesn’t get called back for. she scores a few commercials which is enough to keep them afloat for a brief amount of time. much of dot’s teen years are spent apartment hopping, couch surfing, and sleeping in motels throughout LA. if she was younger she might have been charmed by their vagabond lifestyle, but dot knew they couldn’t live that way forever.

if anything, dot learned a lot about how money worked when she was young. she always had a knack for numbers and after crunching the numbers to figure out if you could pay your electric bill for the month really gives you an advantage. she learned how to budget because no one else was going to. 

she’s working a job doing data entry when she first hears of arcane inc. one of her coworkers wouldn’t stop talking about them. dot isn’t interested as she’s never though much about the supernatural, chalking up companies like arcane to exploit people’s fears. no thanks. her mother believed in spirits enough for the both of them. (besides if karma was real, she would’ve seen a check from louis for the book deal he got over a year ago).

dot does go down a rabbit hole though when she realizes just how big of a following aracane has. people will really believe anything. the moment she sees that they’re hiring, she sees it as an opportunity. a company with millions of followers has to give their employees a reasonable salary. she didn’t have any real work experience outside of her office job but she was damn good with numbers and she was already used to traveling.

she’s been at arcane inc. for about a year now and still doesn’t really get what all the hype is about but that doesn’t matter. dot makes enough to send money to edna and she’s even started to put money aside to go to college. dot’s never been one to dream big, look at what it did to her parents, so she’s planned out every step without reaching out too far for the stars.

headcanons.

yeah her mom’s a failed theater actress but dot has a really secret love for musicals. you won’t find her ever talking about it though and if anyone found out she’d kill them. not joking don’t text.

her social media presence is little to none. not that she thinks she’s above it but she’s just genuinely bad at keeping up and she doesn’t love being in front of a camera. (her instagram posts are all blurry with bad filters and weird angles, bless her heart).

she’s probably the most stubborn person you will ever meet. i blame it on her being an earth sign i’m just saying a ghost could be right in front of her and she’d go and?

dot’s a really good listener (years of practice) and will take secrets to the grave but she’s pretty bad at giving advice. she doesn’t really know what to do when someone starts crying except give them an awkward pat.

her intuition is pretty good though. she’s good at reading situations she just doesn’t know how to react sometimes.

tw abuse: so while her father was never physically abusive, there was an incident from when she was twelve. he had been drinking and dot got out of bed to get water from the kitchen. he yells at her, as he often did, and throws an empty beer bottle at her. she threw up her arms to defend herself and there are still a few scars from the glass shards.

the way to her heart? anything peppermint which i know is arguably the worst dessert flavor but she can’t get enough of it.

tends to chew on things when she’s working. no pen cap is safe. she usually has candies on her so she has something to munch on.

connection ideas.

i prefer chemistry over anything else!! these are just some ideas to get the ball rolling. (also i am so bad at coming up with connections.)

friends. i mean....yeah jsfdkljfd. as basic as that is she just never had many of those growing up! dot’s kept a few people close but for the first time in her life she’s out of reach from her mother so it’s a good chance to socialize.

more specifically? a best friend. in the same vein but dot would really put this person above everyone else. she’s really loyal and it’d be nice to have such a close bond with someone.

a childhood friend or two too!! she’s moved around quite a bit but she stayed in new york (and she considers when she first moved to la still part of her childhood) for quite a bit, definitely long enough to make a connection!

someone she’s pulling out of trouble maybe. while dot’s not a maternal figure (leave that to the nurturer) she does have a compulsive need to help people out. it’s very frustrating but she can’t stop.

negative nancy. she can be so pessimistic and annoying so she’d appreciate having someone she could just vent to.

exes. it has to be a past relationship because dot is not a hook up person like AT ALL, but she’s human and she likes companionship (sometimes). 

honestly whatever you can think of! cousins, pen pals, unrequited crush (either way), friend crush, enemies, people she avoids, shared interest buddies, good/bad influence!

[the-darklings]

—𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒂𝒓;

pairing: detective loki x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: “Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

notes: Never let it be said that I am not an absolute fool!!! This is set pre-movie so no spoilers for the film itself. 

‘black coffee’ drabbles: ... | 02 |

The coffee is good. 

That’s why he keeps coming in. The diner also has that typical, cosy American feel to it and is, in fact, one of the busiest in town. Certainly more busy than the Chinese place across the street he likes frequenting sometimes. 

Coming here has become an odd habit ever since the Chinese place had to be closed for the day due to a burst pipe in the kitchen. He’d been hungry, sleep-deprived, and trying to solve a case and with no other option than to go to the nearest open establishment to escape the harsh October rain.

He came in because he didn’t have much of a choice. He stayed and kept coming back because the coffee is good. 

He’s also become rather fond of his little booth at the back too. Sometimes he would come in and sit here for hours, pouring over reports and case notes, trying to connect all the little dots and make sure bastards that deserve to rot did exactly that. 

“The usual?”

He pauses, his hand lifting from the notes he was scribbling in his notebook to glance up at the source of the voice. Your face is familiar because he sees you around the diner often—practically every day, if he comes in that often which he often does, even if only for a takeaway.

Truthfully, it’s hard not to notice you. You bounce around the place with a smile and a warm greeting to everyone who steps through the door. Like somehow working endless shifts in this shitty diner that could be paying no more than the minimum wage was somehow the height of living.  

Fake.

That’s the first and logical conclusion that came to mind the first time he saw you. There is no way someone can be genuinely this happy and upbeat all day round and mean it. It’s like you’re dialled up to 200% at all times and it’s almost irritating but—

“I have one of those?” he questions slowly, squinting at you, “The usual?”

Your head tilts slightly and a faint smile lingers around the corners of your mouth, knowing and cheerful. From where you stand, it does look genuine but he still has his suspicions. People would do anything nowadays for a good tip. 

“You’ve been coming in daily for almost two weeks, detective,” you reply amiably, twisting the pen between your fingers. “Of course you do.”

His eyebrows jump slightly and he scoffs under his breath. “And that would be?”

Your feet shuffle—nervous?—and you stare at him for a beat of mutual silence. You haven’t missed the slightly condescending note in his voice then. Good. 

“Coffee: black, no sugar,” you say pleasantly, tapping your pen once against the notepad in your hand, and eyes moving towards the ceiling like you’re visualising the order. “For breakfast, you enjoy bacon and eggs. Though I do recommend our buttermilk pancakes. Joey adds magic into them, I swear. Lunch would be a cheeseburger and double fries. Oh, and for dinner, hmm, meatloaf which I didn’t take you to be the type.”

He’s not sure if he should be worried or pleasantly surprised. 

“Are you always…” he begins slowly, pausing to search for a world that won’t make him sound like a complete asshole. “...like this?”

You laugh; a warm sound, pleasant too, if a bit too loud. Your grin stretches and you simply glance at your notebook, fingers fiddling absentmindedly.

“Well, I guess my coworkers would say yes,” you admit, a touch embarrassed. “I would say that anticipating customer needs and making them feel appreciated is a sign of good customer service.”

Huh. 

He wonders if it’s really as simple as that. But every time he comes in, he does notice how you flutter around the dining room, interacting and chatting with everyone who wants to have a conversation. You do try your hardest to make customers feel welcome. Even if it’s nothing more than a job, he can at least acknowledge the dedication you have for a position most people would consider inconsequential. 

“Coffee. Black,” he states after another moment of silence between you, having to fight back a smile at the way your eyes jump to him, amused. “And I’ll try those, uh, magical pancakes. Thanks.”

Your smile is of pure delight and you hurriedly scribble the order down—almost like him somehow taking your recommendation on board just made your entire day. 

“Comin’ right up, detective.”

. . .

The coffee is good.

He can’t help but think it again—both in genuine appreciation and delight. Most places that sell coffee in this town only sell some weak, washed-out shit that’s a piss poor substitute for caffeine. He might as well add some salt and cement and mix it with water for how good or effective it is.

But as he sips on the scalding content in his cup, he can’t help but sigh. He can almost feel the dull twinge against his temple lessen. Fuck, how long has it been since he slept? He should probably try and catch at least a few hours before Captain tears into him again—though that worry has lessened with each new case he closes. As long as he makes the department—and especially the Captain—look good, very little matters outside of that. 

He just wants to get to the new case and the case after that—not much else exists for him outside his work. He’s good at it. He likes it. What more could he ask for?    

“Hard case?”

His eyes lift and he sees you approaching his booth with a plate of steaming, fluffy pancakes in hand. He’s not much for sweets but even he has to admit that the pancakes look rather good. 

“No,” he answers, lowering his cup slightly, “Not really.”

Not for me.

It goes unsaid but the way your mouth twitches slightly to the side tells him that you likely picked up on the unspoken meaning anyway. He regards you critically, accessing, as you lower the pancakes in front of him.

“You work too hard, detective,” you tell him, expression and voice empty of accusation or judgement. It’s simply a statement, and he even notes the slight, worried furrow of your brows. “You need to rest to be productive. Besides exhaustion can place your life in danger.”

He draws a deep breath, peering at you as he blinks a few times, squinting, “That’s rich coming from someone who I see here every day,” he points out mildly, fingers tapping against the rim of the cup with that slight edge of annoyance he can’t quite quell fully. “Today is your eight-day in a row.”

Your face creases with surprise—almost like someone noticing anything about you is somehow shocking, and perhaps it is; you are as invisible as you are seen in this place—and this time around your smile is softer, almost melancholy. 

“Well, we all gotta eat, right?” you ask, but he gets a sense that you’re not really looking for a reply so he keeps quiet, silently observing you because—perhaps—he is a touch more curious than usual. “Besides, I’m saving up. See, I really want to open my own place. Nothing big, just enough space for a kitchen and maybe ten customers—definitely something manageable. Somewhere where I can make fresh food, and stand back and watch people enjoy what I made for them. There would be kids and lots of sunlight and laughter. It would be warm. Someplace I can call my own. Don’t get me wrong, I do like it here—I mean I grew up in this town, so it goes without saying but…”

You trail off and the fond, dream-like tilt of your voice fades too. For a split second, he feels almost disoriented because for a moment he saw it too. You would greet all guests and know them all by their first names. You would be working every day but you would adore every moment of it. He could see you in a tiny kitchen, dancing around and creating to your heart’s content, putting all your positive energy into the simple art of creation. 

“Sorry,” you mutter weakly and clear your throat. “You’re busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you with this type of talk. But yeah, if you want a good thing, you have to be prepared to work hard for it. I will make it out of here one day.”

No, you won’t. 

It’s a cynical thought—and after hearing your dream he almost feels bad for thinking it—but he knows he’s right. If Huntington thought him anything is that life has a way of gobbling up dreamers like you and spitting them back out mangled and broken beyond repair. Time will pass, you will not leave: be it money, family, or whatever else is holding you back from going right this second. Eventually, you’ll be empty of hopes and dreams, living one day at a time in a cycle that’s like a noose around your throat. 

He should know. 

Your joy will grow into resentment, and your drive will sour into bitterness. All that’s left will be someone unhappy with their life and all they could have done with their wasted time. 

It’s a shame though. 

At this point, he can at least admit to himself that perhaps he was too hasty to assume you were playing pretend. Just an endless optimist. It will be a shame to see a fire like yours slowly dim with time. Because given time, you will wither like so many others have.

“Will I be getting a discount at this new place of yours?” he wonders idly, stabbing the fork into his golden pancakes as he takes another slow sip of coffee.

Your embarrassed expression eases, something warmer and happier taking its place, and you suit it a lot more than a frown. Some faces aren’t made for unhappiness. Tragedy and pain become rawer when reflected in them. That’s why happy people are always the hardest to deal with on cases—they don’t know how to hide their suffering the way others do. 

“That will depend entirely on how much sleep you get before coming in,” you say, something joking and teasing twisting your voice. “I would hate for those bags under your eyes to scare the little ones away.”   

His lips twitch into a surprisingly genuine smile around the rim of his cup, and he turns his head slightly as if considering your words.

“You should also smile more, detective,” you add, voice pleasant, thoughtful, “It suits you.”

His eyes lift to look at you but you’re already walking away, waving at random customers as you pass with few passing comments in between. 

His expression twitches and he blinks quickly a few times, but his gaze stays on you till you disappear behind the kitchen door.

. . .

an: anyway I love one stoic, broody detective and giving him someone happy and positive to deal with is so damn funny. hope you guys enjoyed it. this was a fun little exercise (especially writing from Loki’s POV oppose to Reader’s) so I hope you all liked it. might write another few parts for this because I had so much fun but we shall see since I still need to finish Unbecoming. thank you for reading! <33 

[empiregalaxy]

Leaving Tumblr

Dear Tumblr, 

The cliche goes 'this is a hard post to write.' Well, it's not. This is very easy to write. I'm leaving Tumblr, and you should too. Here's why.

I joined this social media site in 2012, as I was drawn to discussing films. Soon, I got into 'fandoms', mainly Buffy The Vampire Slayer and A Song Of Ice And Fire. For the first few years, there was no problem. Well, except one. Let's call her 'MN.' MN and I met on Yahoo Answers, and we shared private e-mails. I felt safe around her, and I confided in her some of my secrets. She helped me when a Tumblr user were sending sexually crass messages to me. During a time when my social life was falling apart, she helped me. Then one day, she stopped talking to me. She didn't block or unfollow me, but she pretended that I didn't exist. No replies to my friendly comments (she'd reply to everyone else).

 At the time, I thought I did something wrong. But now I realise she was a coward who didn't have the guts to tell me that she no longer wanted to be my friend. That's the thing about Tumblr. It's full of cowards, who lack the intellectual or moral ability to confront their 'friends.'  And when you mention that, they convince you that the problem lies with you.

So I moved away from the film fandom. 

During the next few years, I get more involved in the ASOIAF fandom, particularly the Arya Stark section. And yeah, I was an SJW (vomit!). I would write posts about Arya, how sucky the Sansa fandom was. But overtime, I saw a shift. What started as simple, light-hearted bashing of Sansa fans turned sinister. They 'controlled' the fandom and the mods at ASOIAF university. Looking back it, I want to tell them that Arya and Sansa are both fictional characters. They aren't real. But the Sansa fans you were bashing and calling names, spreading lies about? They are. I often say that 'Tumblr treats real people like fictional characters, and fictional characters like real people.' It's true. All of these characters that you care about... they aren't real. And people don't have to treat them like they are. 

So I 'defect' from the Arya fandom. And oh boy did they turn on me. Some are more slower than others, and they tell me that the reason why they didn't block me immediately was because 'they didn't want to hurt my feelings.' That's utter bullshit. They did it because they were scared of the fallout. They were cowards. But once they did block me, they'd post lies about me. That I was a stalker. That I was a bad person. I was open slather once they decided that I was no longer one of them. That's the thing about Tumblr: it's tribal. People think there actions are morally justified, if the person receiving them is 'bad.' Everything about me was insulted, even my gifsets.

A user who was particularly vicious was Marie. She and I were mutuals for well over 18 months. But she'd call me a bad person, a creep, mentally ill, an evil Reylo or whatever. Worse, was that these Arya stans were discussing me on Twitter. When I exposed them, I only had my closest mutuals at the time supporting me. (I had over 2,000 followers. Only 3 bothered to ask if I was okay). Users I never heard of suddenly had 'hot takes' about me. 

Lies were spread about me, non stop. I realised that not only was this behaviour permitted on Tumblr, but it was actively rewarded.

And it was all over a FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTER. 

This happened in 2016, which involved Brexit and the presidental election of Donald Trump. Look, I believe in free speech. I don't care if you are for or against them. Personally, I despise the European Union and if I were American, yeah, I could have voted Republican. But that's irrelevant. Tumblr users were so unhappy with those results, that anyone who did like Trump and Farage were labelled all the awful names in the book. Racist. Sexist. Nazi. Not only did this teach me that Tumblr users have no idea what those words mean, but that they are willing to use them liberally in order to gain power. Looking back at it, I'm glad Trump won. I'm glad Brexit happened. Not only because of politics, but it meant that you guys LOST. You better get used to that feeling, because if you continue to treat people the way you treated me, that feeling will soon be the only thing you know. 

A common misconception in the media is that Tumblr users act like 'SJWs' because they are young and ignorant. I mean, sure. But Tumblr users act like SJWs because they are fundamentally, cultish in nature and adhere to a hideous morality. I study Modern History, and a big part of that is empathy. What motivates someone to join the SS? Or run a gulag? Or torture someone? I manage to answer those questions, with relative ease. But I still have no idea why Tumblr users are so nasty and stupid. Like, none of you know shit about anything. 

The breaking point, when I realised 'we are all fucked' was when neo-Nazi Richard Spencer got punched. Look, I disagree with EVERYTHING Antifa and the Alt-right do. Celebrating any form of political violence leads to a nasty path. One day you are celebrating some one getting punched, and the next, you are cheering people getting slaughtered. People should never be CELEBRATED for violence. There is no moral justification for it. And you guys are too stupid to figure out that once all the 'Nazis' are gone, you are next to be sent to the gulag. You see yourself as distributing justice, but never receiving punishment. And oh, that is going to hurt you long term.

I would subtely mention why Spencer getting punched was wrong. But people on Tumblr were saying 'if anyone doesn't support Antifa, they should get punched too.' That's utter tyranny, and its something a Nazi would do. Since 2017, the countless violence by AntiFa is astounding. And Tumblr cheers it on like its a fucking joke. Like the real world is a theatre, and we are all patrons in the globe. Well, I've got news for you. The world doesn't exist for your pleasure. People don't have to act in certain ways to make you happy. The universe is not a 'safe space.' And you have the arrogant audacity to think you can bully it into changing.

Worse, was that I was fearful to speak out against it. That's utter evil. I understood the meaning of the term 'self-censorship' and since then, have become a free speech advocate.

Of course, no letter about leaving Tumblr would be complete without mentioning Lindsay. Oh Lindsay. We were friends for 2 years, and then I said a historical fact (that the Nazis persecuted people beyond Jewish people) and she flipped out. She blocked me, sent me anon hate, and told all the Reylos to block me. And you know what? Alot did. I was put on hit and block lists. 

Now, anyone who has studied World War II history knows that I am right. But because Tumblr is contrived of people who can't put Austria on a map, I was attacked and slandered. Lindsay would try to bully my friends into blocking me. They obviously refused. But Lindsay probably does the same shit to other people. Good thing she's a boring basic bitch with no personality, who has the charisma of a rock, because people with her mindset can really hurt people. She'll probably call me a 'Holocaust revisionist' for making fun of her. 

I honestly don't care what she thinks of me. I don't care what Marie thinks of me. They will probably interpret me leaving Tumblr as a victory of sorts. And yeah, I'm gone from Tumblr. But I'm not gone from this world. I will continue to live, to write, to create, to argue. I know I matter. I know I'm a good person capable of a positive impact. I am not what you think I am, and I never will be.

You will always have the knowledge that I am out there, being me, being different and weird, and changing the world. Whilst you, are stuck on a computer screen, bullying people who think differently than you.

That's a bloody victory for me, and a sore loss for you. Although I am leaving, I will not delete this blog. I want people to comb through it, and study it. And learn. See my flaws, and know that it possible to leave Tumblr, and still have a good fucking life. 

Goodbye Tumblr. Madeleine.

PS: I will say that the Sansa fandom and (some) parts of the Reylo fandom has been kind to me. It's sad to leave, because I will miss them. If you are one of them and you'd like to maintain contact, send me an e-mail at snowyfictions@gmail.com and I'll give you my Facebook, Twitter or personal e-mail.

[thecleverdame]

Control and Release - 23

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.  

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Words: 2.8k

Parts  24, 25, 26 & 27 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including the ABO series Gods of Twilight and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

Forbes: At 30 years old you ranked as one of the top 25 most successful men in business.  You are a huge success. You’ve done all this by the seat of your pants, with no particular training in management. How did you learn how to run a company?

SW: You know, throughout my years in business I’ve discovered something. Coming up, I would always ask “why do you do it that way?”. The answer I would invariably get is: “Oh, that’s just the way things are done around here.” Nobody knows why they do what they do. Nobody thinks very deeply about processes. That’s what I’ve found.

In business a lot of things are folklore. They are done because they were done that way yesterday. And the day before. You have to dig in, ask questions, and not be afraid to piss people off.  It’s not the hardest thing in the world. It’s not rocket science.

Forbes: What drives you?

SW: As a kid, I read an article in Scientific American. It measured the efficiency of locomotion of various species on the planet. Bears. Chimpanzees. Raccoons. Birds. Fish. How many kilo-calories per kilometer did they spend to move? Humans were measured too. And the condor won. It was the most efficient. Humankind came in with an unimpressive showing about a third of the way down the list. But somebody there had the brilliance to test a human riding a bicycle. We blew away the condor. Off the charts.

This really had an impact on me. Humans are tool builders and process creators. We build things that can dramatically amplify our innate human abilities.

If you set a vector off into space, and you change its direction just a little bit at the beginning, the difference is dramatic when it gets a few miles out in space. If we can nudge it in the right direction, it will be a much better thing. I think W & S has had a chance to do that a few times. That gives me tremendous satisfaction.

Forbes: What drives Winchester & Singer employees?

SW: Most people don’t get a chance to do that many significant things in their life. I’m offering people the chance to be on the forefront of change. Everyone person is handpicked to be here. They could be sitting in a monastery somewhere in Japan, or out sailing. Some of the executive team could be playing golf, they could be running other companies. Everyone at W & S chosen to work with this emerging corner of law and technology. Plus I pay people what they’re worth. A rock star deserves a salary to match. I’ve never shied away from rewarding those who deserve it.

Forbes: Let’s just get it out there, the elephant in the room. How has the shooting changed the way you run W & S? What would you do differently in hindsight?

SW: The most effective change I’ve made has been hiring outside managers to monitor each department’s cultural cohesion. I hire the best and brightest, with that comes egos, reputations, and unrealistic expectations. It’s a balance between heavy-handed micromanagement and understanding what’s truly going on. We’re placing a greater focus on not only the quality of work produced, but the quality of the work experience.

Forbes: You’re a notorious figure with a demanding reputation. How do you see yourself?

SW: My job is to not be easy on people. My job is to make them better. My job is to pull things together from different parts of the company and clear the way and get the resources for key projects. To take these great people, push them, and make them even better, coming up with more aggressive visions of stale concepts.

Forbes: What advice would you give to someone looking at you as their model for success?

SW: Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. You'll know when you find it. Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. I learned that the hard way.

Forbes: You’re known for being stubbornly private regarding your personal life, but in one of your most famous quotes you said things such as hobbies and even family were a distraction. You’re older and wiser, do you still believe that?

SW: (long pause) Yes, but there’s someone in my life now who won’t be too pleased with my answer. The right partner makes you better. Distractions can turn into strengths, but I still believe it’s important to screen who and what you let into your life.

You sit back on the couch smiling at the photo of him on the opposite page. The photographer managed to make him look like some kind of billionaire playboy. He’s wearing a designer suit, something edgy and slim with no socks and leather shoes. His trademark glasses are nowhere to be seen and his hair is wild around his face. He looks like a different Sam, a doppelganger from another universe.

This is his second Forbes cover. The first showcased him as a new powerhouse executive but this article goes on and on about the way Sam is reshaping the way law will be written as it regards to intellectual property rights.

And that last question and then his answer. The right partner makes you better. You wish he was here in your tiny apartment so you could crawl into his lap and show him just how much better things can really get.

Monday

On Monday morning you follow Cole to the nearest conference room. You’ve worked hard to put together the right team for this maiden case. Everyone is feeling the pressure, pressure that’s only made worse by Sam’s attendance.

Sam makes you slightly nervous, but only because you want him to be proud of your work. Truth be told you’re more concerned about proving to Cole you can do this job and do it well.

Everyone else is terrified of incurring the wrath of the great Sam Winchester.

Despite working for W & S most employees never meet him face to face, so this is a big deal for the team and even more so for Cole. They have a lot to prove. This morning is the first in a battery of tests to come.

You set up the presentation while the team trails in. Each junior associate has been assigned an assistant and you’re happy to see the familiar faces of Millie and Lexie.

“Is he normally late?” Cole glances at his watch. “It’s 9:15.”

“No, not normally,” you reply as the door opens and a blonde woman you’ve never seen before scurries in ahead of Sam. The look on his face tells you everything you need to know, something didn’t go his way. He’s pissed.

He takes a seat, opening a legal pad full of notes. The woman sits beside him, offering a pen. He sighs and plucks it from her fingers.

“Let’s get started.” Sam begins. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Right,” Cole stands up, adjusting his suit jacket. “I’ve put together an overview, the key players and areas we believe there’s wiggle room to make our case.” He turns to you on cue. “Y/N.”

You start the presentation from your laptop, doing everything in your power not to look directly at Sam.

Cole presents, he’s well spoken and thinks on his feet. Sam interjects with questions designed to test Cole’s agility as much as hear an answer, but your new boss performs just as expected.

Next up are the associates and they don’t fare as well. Leon hasn’t done his homework, he doesn’t have the correct cases with the legal precedent. Jasper looks like he’s going to throw up as Sam goes down his list of suggestions and eviscerates each one, piece by piece.

While Sam speaks it occurs to you for the first time perhaps this is less his intolerance and more about the frustration of being the smartest person in the room. He already knows the answers, he doesn’t make a move without planning five steps ahead. He’s just trying to get everyone else caught up.

Halfway through his interrogation of Jenny Salter, a leggy redhead who started two weeks ago, the soft strains of a radio can be heard, growing closer. The guy who runs the coffee cart listens to classic rock on a little radio as he wheels around the office and at the moment Blinded By The Light is getting louder and louder.

“What the hell is that?” Sam cocks his head.

“I’ll go check,” Millie gets up.

As you watch her stand up your heart flutters. Little palpitations, once, twice, and then a tightness spreading out. Shit. This couldn't be a worse time.

Your palms go sticky-sweaty, a heat starting in your belly and fanning out like wildfire, until it seems the walls are closing in.

“Can someone help her,” Sam gestures toward the open door. “Is it that difficult to turn a radio off?”

“I need to get out of here,” you whisper, grabbing Cole by the wrist.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers back, turning to look at you. “Jesus, are you sick?”

“I just, um…” the words get caught as your breath goes choppy. “I can’t breathe.”

“Are you okay?” Jenny inquires from across the table. Under any other circumstances, you’d be horrified to have all the attention focused on you but right now you’re desperately trying not to pass out.

“Y/N?” Sam’s voice drifts in from somewhere far away.

“I’m gonna…” are your last words as everything fades to black.

-

You blink once, twice and a third time cobwebs begin to clear. There’s a pounding in the back of your skull, a heavy thump thump that hurts like a motherfucker.

It takes a moment to place the location but you’re lying on a couch in Sam’s office. When you turn your head both Sam and Cole are standing near his desk, both of them watching you.

“Welcome back,” Cole smiles, moving forward. You lock eyes with Sam for a moment, before focusing on the other man in front of your.

“I passed out huh?”

“Yeah. You hit your head on the table on the way down. You’re gonna have a goose egg.” Cole makes a pained face.

“Shit,” you feel at the tender lump on the side of your head. “This is so embarrassing. Sorry I ruined the meeting.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Cole nods. “You should probably go get checked out.”

“It’s just a panic attack. I get them from time to time. PTSD.”

“I’m familiar.”

Of course he is, the man fought in a war and you’re talking to him about PTSD.

“You should go home,” Sam suggests, studying the interaction between you and Cole.

“Really, I think I’ll be okay. I’ve got some work I need to finish-”

“Go home.” Sam raises his voice. It’s not a suggestion.

“Probably a good idea.” Cole agrees. He offers you a hand up from the couch. “You live close? I can-”

“We have people who can take her,” Sam interjects. “I’d like if you would go back down and pull everyone back together. Have the team regroup and we’ll reschedule for this afternoon.”

“I’d kinda like to stay with her.” Cole looks to you. “I feel responsible.”

“I’ll watch her until a driver comes to take her home.” Sam holds out his arm, ushering him toward the door. Cole looks hesitant, but nods in agreement.

“Check in later and let me know how you’re feeling okay?”

“Sure thing.” You’re thankful for his kindness. He’s proven himself to be an upstanding guy. You’re lucky to have him as a direct supervisor.

As soon as the door clicks shut Sam is kneeling on the carpet in front of you. One hand slides into your hair, finding the growing bump.

“Ouch,” you hiss.

“It’s big,” he cautions. “You should have a doctor look at it, make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“I passed out before I hit my head. I think I’m fine.” You force a weak smile, looking over his face as he looks up to you.

Sam rarely looks up at anyone or anything, this position is vulnerable, submissive but he doesn’t seem to mind as he studies your face.

“It was a bad one,” Sam denotes. “It came on fast and you were on the ground in under a minute.”

“So embarrassing.” You watch him as he carefully pushes hair away from your forehead. “Do I have to go home?”

“Yes,” he maintains. “Go to my house.”

“Really, I’m okay. I can just go to my own place and lay down.”

“I’d like to check on you later. I’d prefer if you stayed with me.”

You forget sometimes that safety is Sam’s flag ship. He’s afraid of losing the only person in his life, in moments like this you get a glimpse of the acute anxiety. It looks exhausting.  

“Alright, your house. But I want dinner.”

“You can have whatever you want.”

Wednesday

“Y/N…” Cole starts, his voice trailing off.

“Yeah?” You don’t look up from the document you’re working on, scribbling a note in red ink. It’s been a long week of case review and making sure that everyone is on the same page. The real work begins in a few days so the team is trying to prep as they can. You’ve been spread out on the small couch in the corner of his office for hours, reviewing and taking notes. Trying to memorize the details.

“I’m gonna say something and I hope you take it the right way, because I’m coming to you from a place of good intentions.”

“That sounds ominous.” Sitting up, you close the folder and place it on the table giving him your full attention. “What’s up?”

“Is he always like that with you?”

“What are you talking about?”

There’s an immediate nervous feeling. A wispy flutter of panic.

“I’m talking about Sam Winchester. He brought you up to his office after you passed out, offered to personally watch over you until a driver was free. He can’t even remember the name of his new assistant but with you he was...attentive.”

“I worked on a project with him last year. We spent a significant amount of time together,” you counter.

Stay cool. All this time and Pepper had to walk in on you to see there was something going on. But Cole’s sharp, observant. He picked up on it right away.

Cole stares at you, pursing his lips and trying to decide whether or not to share what he’s really thinking.

“You should watch yourself.” His words are careful. “The way he looks at you, I’ve seen that look before.”

“You’re wrong.” Your entire face is hot. “He’s not like that.”

“I hope you’re right. Just keep my voice in the back of your head, kay? Don’t let yourself be in a situation where you’re alone with him.”

“Cole-”

“I’m serious. He’s interested in you. I’ve known men like him. I wouldn’t want you to be put in a position where something happened. A guy like that is used to getting what he wants. He might not wait for consent.”

That takes you back. The tone shifts and you swallow, thinking about how you want to respond to this curve ball.

“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions,” you bristle, trying to subdue the urge to put Cole in his place. “Even if he was interested in me, that doesn’t mean he’s a freakin’ rapist.”

“I’m not saying he is.” Cole tries to explain himself. “There’s just something about him. You’re intuitive, you have to feel it too. You have to know the rumors about his brother? How they grew up? You can’t be sure some of that crazy isn’t lurking below the surface-”

“Sam has been nothing but kind to me,” you interrupt. “He’s hard to work for but he’s given me opportunities no one else ever has. You shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

“You don’t wonder why?”

“Why what?” You stand up, taking a step toward the desk. “You don’t think my work is good enough that he would see some talent in me?”

“I didn’t say that, either. You’re smart, articulate, you think on your feet. But that describes most of the employees here. I only meant there could be a reason he singles you out.”

Fuck.

In four short weeks Cole Trenton has managed to see what no one else could.

[nowhere-herenow]

No, I’m Not a Christian

When I became a believer at the age of 18, I didn’t think there would ever be a day when I would utter the words, “No, I’m not a Christian.” But it seems that day has finally come.

 It’s not that I don’t believe in a Creator God anymore. I do. I believe in a loving and merciful Creator, Great Spirit, and Mother of us all. I believe that this Creator is far too complex to be boxed in by the limitations of human imagination and linguistic ability. This Creator has given us life that we may live in community with one another and all of creation.

 But that’s not Christianity, at least, not based on the modern-day interpretation of what it means to be a Christian.

 Why the change of heart?

 For me to explain why I’m no longer a Christian, I need to take you back to a much earlier time in the history of the church, back to a very diverse city called Antioch during a time when the Apostles still walked the Earth.

 It was in Antioch that the followers of The Way of Jesus Christ first received the nickname, Christian. According to an article in Relevant Magazine:

 “The Church came to Antioch and began breaking down the dividing barriers in a way that upset the society’s existing categories. People from all parts of the city—Jews and Gentiles alike—were suddenly coming together. This group of people was redefining community in a radical and unprecedented way, so much so, that a new word was needed to categorize what in the world was happening.” [Emphasis mine]

 Antioch was known as ‘all the world in one city,’ and it was an immensely diverse city. When these Christians started to do what they did, building community on no other ground but love, people started to take notice, and as the article pointed out, “The term ‘Christian’ comes from the world’s realization that something new and unheard of was happening.”

 Breaking down barriers, bringing people together and redefining community are not things that today’s church, as a whole, is known for. In fact, when you talk to people that have left the church or the faith, you’ll find that they experienced the very opposite. The ‘done’ crowd, meaning those that are now done with the faith, will tell you that most of what they experienced in the church was division, wall building, and basically all the exact same things that you find everywhere else in the world. Today’s church is no different from any other group.

 Imperfect, but not different.

 I’ve heard Christians argue so many times in the past, “the church is imperfect, just like everyone else,” and while I agree with the fact that we’re all imperfect, the Church of the 1st-3rd centuries was, despite all it’s imperfections, different from the rest of the world. The original church was by nature subversive to the norms of the day. The original church stood up for the weak, the sick, the hungry, the slave, the oppressed, and it selflessly served the needs of each other and even those outside of the faith.

 Read this excerpt from The Faith: A History of Christianity, by Bryan Moynahan:

 Charity was an important part of the belief. Pliny [Pliny the Younger, the Roman governor of Bithynia] mentioned that Christians never refused a loan, and he could have added that they cared for the sick and vulnerable, that they visited their brethren who were imprisoned or sent to mines, and that they helped others in times of catastrophe, plague, famine, and earthquake. Regular collections for the poor were made on Sundays. Acts of individual generosity were recorded very early, like those of the centurion Cornelius who “gave much alms to the people” (Acts 10:2) at Caesarea. “We, who loved… wealth and possession,” the Christian apologist Justin wrote in about A.D. 155, “now put together even what we have and share it with all who are in need.” By 251 the church at Rome was supporting fifteen hundred widows and poor people; the following year, when Carthage was struck by plague, Bishop Cyprian sent his deacons to tend the sick. “Jews do not allow any of their own people to become beggars,” a later pagan emperor, Julian, complained, “and the Christians support not only their own but also our poor.”

 Moynahan also goes on to say that Pliny, who was sent to investigate torture and execute the Christians, reported back that he could find nothing to condemn them with as treasonable and even pointed out that they were politically docile.

 Politics Over Love.

 It would seem that the original Christians were more concerned with showing love to their fellow human beings through very real and practical ways than they were with building some sort of pseudo-theocratic state in which everyone would legally have to abide by their religious laws. It never ceases to amaze me how so many Christians can so easily write off Acts chapter 2, ‘The Fellowship of the Believers,’ as being something that was acceptable then, but today is labeled as socialism; while, at the same time, taking scriptures that relate to the submission of women and condemnation of homosexuality as being literal commands (when they obviously were not).

 Compare those early Christians to the Christians of today (this is just in my own lifetime).

 ·         Christian churches have largely embraced ‘white flight’, fleeing poor neighborhoods as minority groups move in, in favor of much larger and modernized facilities on the ‘better’ side of town.

·         When AIDs ravaged the gay community, Christians said it was God’s wrath and initially did nothing to help.

·         Christians are excessively political, willing to turn blind eyes to all forms of evil and greed in the pursuit of their own pseudo-theocratic state.

·         Rather than breaking down dividing walls, Christians have created their own subculture complete with Radio & T.V. stations, clothing lines, school systems, music genres, books, hospitals, camps, magazines, etc. Essentially making it possible to completely isolate themselves from the world they’re supposed to serve.

·         While insisting that they are persecuted, Christians repeatedly persecute other groups that they do not agree with.

·         Many conservative Christians have even embraced the teachings of people like Ayn Rand whose idea of objectivism directly conflicts with the teachings of Christ.

·         Christians are willing to completely ignore what Jesus taught with regards to strangers and foreigners, choosing instead to embrace the ideas of national sovereignty and security. (I find it ironic that the majority of the migrants at our southern border are Christian, and they’re coming from countries that American Christians have been doing ‘missionary’ work in for decades now.)

·         Christians have largely turned a blind eye to the plight of LGBTQ people in this country, disowning their own children and ignoring the alarming suicide rates that have ravaged their community.

 Obviously, this list is not all-inclusive and obviously there are many Christians out there today that are not these-kind-of-Christians, but these observations do accurately fit the church as a whole. If you don’t believe me, simply ask one of your non-believing friends their opinion.

 I’m Not a Christian.

 So, why would anyone want to be a part of an utterly unexceptional group that seems to be interested in nothing other than practicing religious rite and legalism for the sake of religious rite and legalism?

 Why would anyone want to give financial support to such an organization?

 Why would anyone want to sacrifice their time and energy for such a group?

 Can’t we volunteer our own time with shelters, soup kitchens, food banks, and other non-profits?

 For that matter, can we not give money directly to these organizations instead of the church, which in my personal experience is often either so out of touch with the surrounding community, or burdened with facility costs that most of the financial support they receive doesn’t help anyone but the church itself?

 I Am a Follower of the Way

 The truth is, a long long time ago, the church strayed from its original calling and purpose, and because of that, the word Christian no longer means ‘little Christ’, and I for one do not want to be associated with what that word has come to mean.

 In the third century, when the church ‘left the catacombs for the cathedrals,’ as Richard Rohr puts it, we quickly started to lose our way. Emperors presided over the first seven Vatican council meetings that formed the basis of what is now our religion. In fact, the church and the state became lovers of a sort, propping each other up in a mutually beneficial relationship. It was in this, dare I say, blasphemous union that the Church traded the Way of the Christ, for world dominance, financial security, and cultural superiority. Over the centuries, things have not gotten better.

 It’s painfully tragic that a lot of what is taught in the Church today was never taught in the early church, and a lot of what the early church practiced has been lost on today’s Christians.

 The early church did not have an ‘infallible’ bible, massive facilities, political influence, complicated theology, or private schools yet they flourished. Why? Because they understood the Way of Christ and the implications that came with it:  

 “Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.” -Jesus, from the Gospel of John 12:24-25 (The Message)

 The modern church is determined to flourish and dominate in this society. It wants nothing of servanthood and poverty, and it wants to avoid sacrifice at all costs, even to the extent that it’s willing to put armed guards at its doors, instead of pushing for gun reform and affordable access to mental health professionals.

 I can go on and on, and I may write more at a later date, but in short, the Church has exchanged the humility of Christ for the riches of this world.

 I am no longer a Christian.

 However, I am a follower of The Way of Christ.

   Article quoted from:

https://relevantmagazine.com/god/where-christian-name-really-came/

 Moynahan, Bryan. The Faith: A History of Christianity. 1st ed., Doubleday, 2002.

pp. 51-54

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hope you’re having a great holiday season! I was wondering if you knew of any good fics with johnlock being around their parents (could be Sherlock’s or John’s)? Any situation really, but really just them spending time with parents. If you have anything hat comes to mind, I’d love to hear about it. Hope you’re having a wonderful day ♥️

Hi Nonny! *hugs*

I’ve absolutely some fics with this trope! I’ve actually a list I’ve done previously with this trope!

Meeting the Family With a Fake Relationship

So let’s put them all into one, plus with some newer additions!

PARENTS AND FAMILY

Further Impressions by grannysknitting (K+, 1k+ w. || Friendship & Family) – Sherlock meets the people who made John Watson the man he is today… the reciprocal family dinner. Sequel to First Impressions

There’s Always Three of Us by Itsallfine (T, 1,765 w. || Post-S4, Parentlock, Love Declarations, First Kiss, Anniversary, S4 Fix it Fic, Fluff) – Sherlock takes John and Rosie out to Angelo’s and gets a chance to correct the biggest mistake of his life.

Anne Bonny by Spartangal22 (K+, 2K+ w. || Family & Friendship, Mary is Nice, Watson Family, Holmes Family) – Sherlock just wanted to do something nice for the baby, but a simple phone call leads him and the Watsons back to his parent’s cottage, where Mr. and Mrs. Holmes welcome the little girl as their own.

First Impressions by grannysknitting (K+, 2K+ w. || Family & Friendship) – Meet the Holmes’. John gains some insight into the environment that produced the two prodigies - Sherlock and Mycroft.

Wintery Hell by Belldere (K+, 2K+ w. || Friendship & Humour, Christmas) – With Sherlock being roped into spending Christmas with his family, John had his own Christmas all planned out with his other friends and family… That is until he’s extended a forceful invitation from Mycroft and an assumption from Sherlock who, once again, failed to notice John wasn’t in the room when he ‘asked’.

Engaged by lifeonmars (NR, 3,146 w. || Marriage Proposal, Fluff, Holmes Family, Song Fic) – Sherlock did not believe in marriage, but he wanted to be married. He found this something of a surprise. Part 2 of Damage

In the Bleak Midwinter (A Canticle for Advent) by CaitlinFairchild (M, 3,476 w. || Angst, Injury, Missing Scenes, HLV Timeline) – In the autumn of 2014, Mary Watson shot Sherlock Holmes. This is what happened after.

Nineteen Seconds of Falling by EmmyAngua (T, 3,739 w. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Falling in Love) – Sherlock spends exactly nineteen seconds zoned out after John asks him to be best man. He retreats to his mind palace in the desperate hope of figuring out what he wants, unfortunately for him his mind palace is full of people who keep trying to give him advice.

Christmas at Holmes Cottage by johnlockedstarkid (G, 4,295 w. || Christmas, Fake Relationship, Love Confessions, Holmes Family, Pining, Kisses, Fluff, Allusions to Mystrade) – Sherlock doesn’t want to have to deal with his mother’s wishes for him to find a partner when he goes to visit them for Christmas, so asks John to pose as his boyfriend. Little does he know he’s not the only one who wishes that the relationship could be real.

Maybe This Christmas by feverishsea (T, 6,021 w. || Matchmaker Anthea, Anthea POV, Slight Mystrade, Holmes Family) – Anthea has given up her life, her own desires, even her name in service of something greater than herself. But that doesn’t mean she can’t see when someone else wants something – even if she doesn’t happen to care overmuch for that person. And it doesn’t mean she isn’t willing to help.

Caught In The Act by ShirleyCarlton (E, 7,009 w. across 6 stories || Est. Rel, Voyeurism, Character POV’s, Masturbation, Switchlock) – This is a series of six scenarios written from the points of view of six different people as they accidentally walk in on Sherlock and John having sex.

that thing you like by misspamela (E, 7,165 w. || Holmes Family, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers) – “Happy Christmas, etc. etc.” Sherlock and John go to the Holmes’ for Christmas, and everyone thinks they’re together.

The Kids Are Alright by p.r. fox (K+, 9K+ w. || Humour & Friendship, TeenJohn, Young Sherlock, Babysitting) – John is struck with a memory from his teenage years.  "You drew this,“ John grins, pointing to the little drawing on the paper. “You gave it to me when you were five. I babysat you.”

Illogical, even. by magikspell (E, 9,119 w. || Grey-Ace Sherlock, Character Study, Growing Up, Victor Trevor, Romance, First Time/Kiss, Sherlock-centric) – Five reasons Sherlock never believed in love and one reason he does now.

The In-Between by blueink3 (M, 10,679 w. || Fluff and Angst, H/C, Parentlock, Fix-It Fic, Canon Compliantish) – Beginning in a Chinese restaurant and ending at the bottom of a well, what about the moments we didn’t see?

Merlot by Itsallfine (E, 14,844 w. || Christmas, Pining Sherlock, Wine, Slow Burn, First Kiss / Time, Love Confessions, Wine, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John work toward becoming something more as they prepare to host the Holmes parents at 221B for the holidays. Part of 25 Days of Fic-Mas 2015.

Twelfth Night by yourdykeinshiningarmor (E, 15,139 w. || Fake Relationship, Christmas, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Angst & Fluff, BJ’s, Anal) – John is invited to his aunt’s Twelfth Night ball. Sherlock offers to attend with him as a friendly face among strangers, but John’s family force him to address his true feelings for Sherlock.

Never-Ending Cycle by orphan_account (T, 17,211 w. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Proposal, Fluff) – Or, four times Sherlock Holmes attempted to propose to John Watson, and the Christmas Party at which he finally did. Sherlock thinks he’s a miserable failure, John is confused, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade provide some unsatisfactory advice, and Mummy is, as always, the solution. All in a lovely, fluffy holiday theme.

With All My Heart by QuinnAnderson (E, 19,257 w. || Red Marks / Soulmates || Magical Realism, Growing Up, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love) – AU in which every time a person falls in love, a red line like a tally mark appears on their wrist. Sherlock is determined to keep himself from ever gaining one of these marks for fear that love will corrode his mental faculties. Then he meets John Watson.

Winter’s Delights by Kate_Lear (E, 21,173 w. || Holmes Family, Christmas, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Bed Sharing, Domestics) – Sherlock takes John home for Christmas to meet the extended Holmes family. Part 1 of Winter’s Delights

Once More, With Feeling by cellard00rs (T, 21,178 w. || John’s Family, Fake Relationship, Romance, Fluff, Humour) – To put off his meddlesome, matchmaking mother, John convinces Sherlock to play the role of his significant other. Unparalleled awkwardness ensues.

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock’s parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

You Can Imagine the Christmas Dinners by ardenteurophile (T, 23,584 w. || Pre-Slash, Drama, Fluff & Angst, Humour, Romance) – Sherlock takes John along for Christmas dinner with Mycroft and Mummy (And “Anthea”, too). Over the course of the evening, John realises that everyone in the room - apart from him - seems to think that he and Sherlock are a couple. Part 2 of Xmas Dinners Verse

Sherlock Holmes & The Mysterious Ex by Gatergirl79 (M, 27,942 w. || Family, Romance, Holmes Family) – Sherlock and John are forced to spend Christmas with Sherlock’s family. An unsettling idea especially when John will have to play ‘Boyfriend’ thanks to Mycroft. But why exactly does Sherlock want to avoid a family party?

Hitting the Water at Sixty Miles an Hour by what_alchemy (E, 30,568 w. || Fake Rel., Roadtrips, Slow Burn, Mummy Holmes) – “You love your mother, Sherlock?” John watched the muscles in Sherlock’s jaw jump. He nodded in one sharp jerk.“Then we’re going to her party and making her happy.” John let out a resigned sigh. “As a ruddy couple, you bastard.”

Our Enthusiasms Which Cannot Always Be Explained by withoutawish (M, 32,961 w. || Christmas, Fluff and Angst, H/C, Post-TRF, Case Fic, Mild Gore, Sherlock Whump) – The list that is tacked haphazardly on the refrigerator of 221B reads, ‘Kidney(s), and/or a full cadaver (preferably male, late 30s, under six feet tall), bag of fresh toes, sixteen cow’s eyes (corneas retained), dual exhaust hand –held flame thrower, an unopened first edition copy of Joseph Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’, and no less than ten abhorrently gruesome murders in the upcoming month.” The one neatly hanging next to it simply reads, “Sex.” One of these lists is not John Watson’s. If John Watson were to put what he really wanted in list form, to live in a land somewhere beyond ‘almosts’ now that Sherlock Holmes has indeed returned to him, he would never be able to look his flatmate in the eye ever again.

Pater Noster by SilentAuror (E, 34,256 w. || Case Fic, HLV+, Family Trauma, Sherlock POV, Villain Mary) – During the autumn that John is staying at Baker Street again after Sherlock was shot, he ruminates over the similarity between Sherlock’s shot and the one that killed his father when he was fifteen. Cold case meets series 3 fix-it. Part I takes place entirely within His Last Vow, Part II takes place starting at the end of HLV and continues after.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock’s five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete.(This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Bedroom Tales by Junejuly15 (M, 49,950 w. || Friends to Lovers, Through the Years, H/C, Military Kink, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Insecure Sherlock, Voyeurism, Post-TRF, Ficlets, Fluff and Angst, Fix-It Fics) – Bedroom Tales is a collection of John and Sherlock ficlets. They are set at various stages of their relationship and are in no particular order. Some are fluffy, some sexy, some angsty, there is hurt and comfort, romance and love. What unites them is that they all play in a bedroom, but not necessarily the one in 221B.

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues, Cuddling) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

John Watson’s Twelve Days of Christmas by earlgreytea68 (M, 53,464 w. || Christmas, Holmes Family, Fake Relationship, Alternate First Meeting, Falling in Love, Fluff and Angst, Hardcore Pining) – It’s the holiday season. John Watson needs money. Sherlock Holmes needs something else.

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (E, 54,437 w. || Post S3 || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

between each beat are words unsaid by darcylindbergh, hudders-and-hiddles (T, 107,998 w. || Epistolary, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending) – On their wedding night, John and Sherlock gift each other with the things they each said when the other could not hear, the things they each put down where the other could not see: a collection of writings that illustrate the way their love for one another has grown over the years. Part 1 of between each beat

The Swan Triad by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

Unkissed Series by 221b_hound (T to E, 184,168 w. across 46 works || Established Relationship, Ace Sherlock) – Sherlock returned from the dead a year ago. John returned to Baker Street six months ago. They’ve been in a couple since then. Or at least, not NOT a couple. For two smart men, they sure can be dumb.

[ayearofpike]

The Immortal

Pocket Books, 1993 213 pages, 16 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-74510-7 LOC: CPB Box no. 705 vol. 16 OCLC: 27434465 Released July 1, 1993 (per B&N)

Did you ever take a vacation because your best friend insisted that you had to? Josie Goodwin is. At the suggestion (or maybe insistence) of her oldest compatriot Helen Demeter, her family is spending two weeks on Mykonos in the Greek isles. Helen’s there too, and she has a lot to show Josie from her trip the previous summer, not the least of which is a sacred island with a plateau that has a mythical connection to Apollo. What Josie doesn’t know is her own connection to Apollo. But Helen does, and it’s a connection that calls for no less than cold vengeance.

I have distinct memories of reading this book on a summer vacation road trip with my dad. But aside from the fate of the main character, I found that I didn’t actually remember that much about this story. Revisited in 2018, this is some Percy Jackson shit. Like, not to the point where Rick Riordan owes Pike some money, but it definitely doubles down on the sex among gods, mortals, and monsters. It’s fitting that I read this one while reading The Sea of Monsters to my kids, because I was already in the Greek gods mode for it. Although enough people have written about Greek myth in modern times that I can’t say anyone is directly ripping anyone else, necessarily. Maybe they just have the same muse.

So, all right, where do I jump in? The beginning is as good a place as any, I suppose. We’re on a plane with Josie and Helen (who, by the way, maybe couldn’t have a more Americanized Greek name) as it descends into Athens. They’re traveling with Josie’s dad, a once-hot screenwriter who is currently struggling, and his current flame, a failed alcoholic actress. Josie wakes up knowing they’re close, with a sense of almost being home. Which is weird, right, because she’s never been to Greece before. Foreshadowey! WOOOOOO

They have to cab to a smaller airport and hop another plane to the island of Mykonos, which is their final destination. Helen can’t warn the Goodwins about the rudeness of Greek people enough, but Josie finds them very pleasant. She wonders if maybe it’s this difference in attitude that makes boys who are initially attracted to Helen eventually want to be with her. Yep, Pike did it again with the accidentally-steal-yo-man girl, only at least Josie is honest with herself and admits that going out with her best friend’s ex makes her an asshole. Not that she’s going to stop. There’s one boy in particular she’s thinking of here, who went with Helen and then with her and then moved away and dropped off the face of the planet. Remember when you could do that, all the way back in the 1990s?

So they get to the hotel, drop their crap, and decide to go snorkeling at Paradise beach. They have to rent motor scooters to get there, but it turns out Helen has an ulterior motive for wanting to go so far away: a guy. Specifically, a British bartender named Tom, whom she met during her trip the previous summer. Of course Josie is instantly smitten, but she’s not immediately planning to steal Tom. They plan to go out later, the three of them and one of Tom’s friends, and then the girls get their snorkeling equipment and get in the water.

It’s when Josie pushes herself too hard that we learn a little more backstory. Seems she had a mysterious heart inflammation the previous summer while Helen was in Greece and almost died from it. The experience has made her appreciate life more, and so she really wants to tackle everything that comes her way. But her endurance is still not where it should be, and she’s been swimming for an hour. As she struggles to get back to shore, Tom plunges into the water (in his full bar uniform, no less) and pulls her in. Interesting that he was watching her swim while he was supposed to be at work, yes?

So they go back to the hotel and Josie grabs a nap, and then she decides to interact with her parentals. She argues with the girlfriend, who is drunk in the bar watching TV, and then finds her dad pecking on his laptop on his room’s balcony. Seems he’s been fighting with a science-fiction screenplay for about a year. Mr. Goodwin has never before had this hard a time unfolding a story; before, they always just came to him, but now he can’t figure out where to take it. He knows that there are humans in an interstellar war with aliens, and that the humans have captured one and are going to make her escort a single pilot on a suicide mission to blow up the alien homeworld, but he doesn’t really know why or what comes next. (I think the screenplay is supposed to have some parallel with the narrative, but it’s a pretty big stretch.) He’s interested in Josie’s ideas, and she tells him she’ll need to think on it.

Right now it’s time for her to meet Helen and the boys for dinner. She finds Helen at a restaurant in town, and they talk about their mutual attraction to Tom, and Helen says she won’t be upset if Tom prefers Josie only she is obviously lying. Tom shows up a little later with his roommate Pascal, a big French dude who works with handicapped kids most of the year but is spending his summer delivering vegetables to restaurants. In fact, he’s got a truck coming in on the late ferry, and he wants to take it for a ride with one of the girls — only (obviously) neither one wants to leave Tom to the other. So he takes off in the truck, and the other three go to a bar, where Helen drinks too much and pukes on Tom’s shoes, so that’s over. Josie takes her home, they fall asleep, and Josie dreams of being a goddess suffused in radiant blue light. When she wakes up she’s totally fine and feeling great, even though she drank at least two bottles of wine and should be a little hungover. Did the light save her from the booze?

Of course, being totally sick doesn’t keep Helen from having an agenda. She wakes everyone up the next day (even Josie’s parentals) and makes them take a boat to the island of Delos. It’s a sacred holy site, which Josie learns about by reading along the way: supposedly it’s the birthplace of Apollo and Artemis, fathered by Zeus and borne by the titan Leto (which I had to look up because I was confusing her with Leda) on an island that was not fixed in place, as Hera had banned Leto from giving birth on terra firma. The mythology of the place made it an important site of worship, even though nobody could live there, and today it is essentially a museum full of excavated ruins. Josie’s dad’s girlfriend thinks it’s junky, of course.

But what Helen most wants Josie to see is the top of Mount Kynthos, where Apollo was supposely born. And it’s true, the sun does feel stronger and more intense up there, and Josie senses a connection to something greater than herself. Helen knows it, and she sprinkles in a little more backstory by saying that when she got out of the hospital she knew that this was a place she had to come, for some reason. We learn that Helen tried to kill herself, not long before Josie had her heart ailment, but we don’t really learn how or why. Josie wonders if the boyfriend they shared was an impetus, but she sure as hell doesn’t ask any more questions about it. Still, they both share that getting so close to death has provided them with a new understanding of what they should do with life. Still, we start to wonder about their friendship. How close are they actually? Do they even still like each other?

Josie doesn’t help matters by immediately going to see Tom at the beach when they get back from Delos. They try to figure out how to get together without upsetting Helen, and don’t come up with much other than everybody hanging out again. After a swim and a stint of topless sunbathing, she goes back to the hotel, where she tells her dad that the suicide pilot in his script has something to live for and then puts off Helen’s attempt to go get dinner, as she needs to wait for her sneaky plan to happen. She dreams of a secret altar to Apollo, where she prays for insight and information to pass along to humans, and then she and Helen go to the same restaurant as the night before, where Tom and Pascal just happen to show up. Only Pascal’s fumbling English gives away that it was all planned, and Helen storms off, but not before revealing to Josie that the reason their mutual boyfriend hasn’t been in touch is because he died at the end of last summer. Helen has known this all along, but she has obviously kept it from Josie out of spite ... or something. I think here their friendship is officially ruined.

Josie and Tom try to salvage the evening by going out on the bay in a rowboat. While they’re out there, though, the temperamental summer winds kick up all of a sudden, and they lose their oar and can’t get it back. Tom jumps in the water to get it, but before he can get back the boat blows out to sea with Josie in it. All Josie can do is bail as it takes on water and pray that the wind stops before she sinks. And, like, literally as soon as she prays, the weather lets up and the water gets calm. She passes out in the boat and wakes up on a rocky beach, which she’s pretty sure is Delos. So she goes to try to find the archaeologists on the island, but before she can she discovers that the ruin is somehow a living city, and they welcome and worship her.

And suddenly we’re flung into a new myth, one of Pike’s own making. We learn about the muse Sryope and her best friend Phthia, granddaughter of Zeus. They are both in love with Aeneas, half-blood son of Aphrodite, and Phthia seduces him and gets him to swear an oath of fidelity before she goes back to fucking around. This pisses Sryope off, and she figures out how to get Phthia to forgive the vow: a story contest. If Sryope wins, Phthia will release Aeneas; if Phthia wins, Sryope will never tell anyone that her father is Alecto, one of the Furies that guards the underworld. Yeah, I know, and so does Pike — Furies in myth are traditionally portrayed as female, but there’s some shape-shifter tales throughout fiction.  Of course Sryope basically goes back on her word immediately, telling a story of a Fury who impregnates a goddess by impersonating a handsome warrior and begats (?) a daughter, just changing the names like that hides anything. Of course Phthia gets pissed and yells at Sryope, then takes off without telling her story, never to be seen again until Alecto finds her dead and floating in the river Styx. Upon which he (she?) arrests (?) Sryope on suspicion of murder.

This is where Josie wakes up with the sunrise in the ruins of Delos. There’s a tiny marble statue of a goddess next to her, which she recognizes as Sryope, so she pockets it, but then she realizes she’s going to get in trouble if she’s found there. She gets out, hides among the tourists, and takes the first boat back to Mykonos, where her father and his girlfriend are anxiously talking to the police on the dock. Seems Tom made it back to shore and warned everyone that Josie was missing, and now that she’s back they call off the search and get everyone ready for a celebratory barbecue at the hotel. But first she tells Tom what happened, and shows him the statue, which has since the morning become flecked with clear crystal somehow. He’s not sure he believes her, but he does promise to stay with her and protect her from any more weirdness.

The girlfriend runs the barbecue, maybe out of guilt of not being more ... motherly? I don’t know. Is that really the responsibility of a thirty-something woman whose boyfriend has an eighteen-year-old daughter? I know, cultural expectations and all that bullshit. But Helen helps make the burgers, and Josie asks for two but can’t finish the first so Tom eats the other one. While she’s eating, Josie talks to her dad some more about his script, and suggests that the pilot plants the bomb on the planet but that the alien is struggling to tell him something that she’s been programmed against. Then Josie goes to bed and  dreams about Sryope’s trial, where she is twisted into lying about knowing Phthia’s parentage and discusses how she shares stories and ideas with mortals, in particular a certain screenwriter and his daughter.

Josie wakes up feeling like crap. The statue is still there, but now it’s totally clear, with a red swirl in the center. She tries to call Tom, but Pascal says he’s too sick to answer the phone. She’s starting to worry about all of it, so she finds her way over to his house and realizes he needs to see a doctor. At the health center, Josie collapses in the waiting room and sees more of the trial, where Minos (the underworld judge) shows Sryope forcing the daughter’s best friend to drink poison, and then sees herself forcing the spirit of Phthia into the best friend’s dying body. Sryope realizes that it’s Alecto impersonating her, but there’s no way to provide a realistic motive without going back on her lies about Phthia and Alecto. So she accepts her punishment, which is to give up her immortality and take the place of the dying spirit in the screenwriter’s daughter.

Josie wakes up with her family around her. She asks to talk to Helen alone, because by now they both know the story. Helen tells Josie that she put ground glass in her hamburgers, and there’s no way to get it out of her system. I don’t know if that’s how it works ... isn’t finely ground glass essentially sand? Snopes says this isn’t inherently fatal, but we didn’t have the Internet in 1993 and so it scared the piss out of me at the time. Helen isn’t really upset about Tom being collateral damage, either, because he treated her wrong. She’s taken a similar revenge on their dead mutual ex, in fact. She tells Josie that this was her plot, abetted by Alecto, and all she has to do to live forever is to sacrifice somebody to the Furies — in this case, Pascal — on the summit of Mount Kynthos.

So with no hope for themselves, there’s no reason to go to the mainland hospital, but there’s still time to save Pascal. Before she goes, Josie leaves a note for her dad that tells him the planet is actually Earth, and the aliens are what humans would have become if they stayed. Then she rouses Tom out of bed and tells him about Helen’s plan, and they sneak out of the health center. They grab Pascal’s gun from the apartment, then steal a boat and rip over to Delos.

He’s already bewitched and is ready to obey Helen. There’s no other option. Josie tries to shoot her but the gun doesn’t go off. Tom (the stupid idiot who thinks he knows better than killing) knocks the gun out of Josie’s hand, and Pascal grabs it. Helen tells him to put it in his mouth and pull the trigger, which he does — but it still doesn’t go off. Josie realizes the safety must be on, but Pascal doesn’t. The gun in his mouth is enough to break his hypnosis, and he faints. Helen doesn’t realize about the safety either (I guess she thinks the gun is busted) so she pulls out a giant knife and literally lifts Tom off his feet, telling Josie she wants her to watch him suffer before she dies too.

But Josie has one more trick up her sleeve: her camera, which is in the pocket of the windbreaker she’s wearing. If she can get one good shot, maybe the flash will distract Helen enough that she can grab the gun and kill her before she kills Tom. And it’s a good shot. So good, in fact, that it lights up the entire island as though from the sun. Helen is momentarily blinded and drops the boy, and Josie has enough light to find the gun, flick the safety off, and fire six shots into Helen’s chest.

So Pascal is now safe, but Josie’s still dying, right? And Tom? Hang on a second. Josie realizes that the red in the little statuette is blood. Her godly blood. In fact, when she takes it out of her pocket, the head has turned into essentially a flip-cap. But there’s only enough for one person, so guess what. Yep, she makes Tom drink it, and once again Pike has killed off the first-person protagonist. Really — he’s done it in literally every single (YA) story written from 1PP so far. I’d say to start expecting it, only the next major one from this perspective is The Last Vampire, so ... but maybe he’s counting that as dead?

Our epilogue finds Sryope at the top of Mount Kynthos, conversing with Apollo, who she has only now realized is her own father. He is interested to know what she’s learned from her time on Earth, and as they arise into the sun she begins the tale of a girl on a plane to Greece.

And hereby we close The Immortal. I have to say I’m not mad at it. The agency of the girls and goddesses is useful, and it certainly does more with the kinky Greek myth sex than anything teachers will let you read. The parallel of the higher being dying after fulfilling an important informational mission between the narrative and the dad’s screenplay is super-thin, and I could have done without that, but Josie and Helen are kind of badasses who don’t apologize for their desires, and I’m glad. I’m also glad that this re-read gave me the thought to check on that ground-glass thing, which makes me more OK with hamburgers. 

[writhingcreature]

Oh! For the character + song thing, how about Tony Stark and Death Of A Bachelor (P!ATD)? I dunno, it's always reminded me of him.

So I wrote a huge long thing for this and then posted it, but it didn't post and deleted it all instead so I'm devesatated but here we go again... heaven help me

"Do I look loneley? I see the shadows on my face. People have told me: I don't look the same. Maybe I've lost weight. I'm playing hookey. With the best of the best, put my heart on my chest, so that you can see it too. I'm walking the long road; watching the sky fall. The lace in your dress tangles my neck- how do I live?"

Picture for me: sexy, available, fun, free Tony Stark who has everything he could ever want at any point he ever wants it. Any drink or piece of clothing or tech or woman. And if a woman says no? No problem- there's always one who will say yes. He's super content to just float through life and be the coolest, hottest, and most available. He's Tony fucking Stark.

Enter: Pepper Potts.

She say no, and it bugs him. He doesn't care if someone else will say yes: he wants her. She cares and thinks and plans and succeeds. She has plans for a future, and is going to carry them out. She's powerful and a force to be wreckoned with and he's completely stunned by everything she is. On top of everything, the more they get along, the more she cares about him. Thinks about him. Wonders if he's okay. Misses him when he's gone. She wants more with him than a one night stand or a mutual benfit... and suddenly, so does he.

This bit makes me think of "All-American Girl" by Carrie Underwood, actually. In the song, there's a part where it focuses on a star football player in highschool. He's talented and his dad promises him to pay the boy's way through college so he can keep playing the game. Then, the boy meets Miss "All American" and suddenly he's missing practices and losing games, and everyone is urging him to get back on track and follow his dreams and ditch this new girl... but the boy is in love with her now, and he's soon realizing that there are more important things than football.

That, but with Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

People keep thinking Tony needs to ditch Pepper because she's changing him. He's not going to as many parties, and has begun to turn women down for another girl who's not even totally into him. Tony is being genuine about this one, and he's getting better and growing up and taking care of himself, but his friends only see him putting away the life he loved, before, in exchange for a woman who doesn't seem worth it- because they haven't learned yet that there's more to life than football.

Or... you know what I mean.

"I'm cutting my heart off. Feels like my heart is going to burst. Alone at a table for two, and I just wanna be served. And when you think of me, am I the best you've ever had? Share one more drink with me, smile even though you're sad."

I think I've already started to diverge from canon since I haven't seen the origonal movies in a very long time, but like follow me from the path a little more, in case this super wasn't in the movies lol.

Imagine later: Tony's going to propose. He books this fancy dinner and pulls all the stops to make the night perfect. But Pepper is later.

Pepper is never late.

He can't breathe and he was already nervous to begin with - palms sweaty and everything - but now his mind is running and he's straight terrified.

He starts to think he's messed up, or she's not interested in him anymore or she's found someone else. Maybe she's gotten hurt, or kidnapped, or gotten in a car crash or or or-

Turns out she just got a little carried away at work with a project she was super excited about and totally lost track of time. She assures him just how much she loves him when at the end of the night, she says yes.

"The death of a bachelor. Lewtting the water fall. The death of a bachelor. Seems so fitting for happily ever after. How could I ask for more?"

His old friends tease him a lot, making marriage seem like a bad thing in that way that only annoying fuck boys who've never really cared about anyone but themselves can. The whole "ball and chain" jokes and the endless talk about how marriage ruins love and women get needy and require ridiculous amounts of attention and they get crazy and blah blah blah.

Tony won't hear a word of it. No one will talk about his wife like that, especially after all she's given to him. If anything, she deserves better than him and he will die before he gives up the chance to convince everyone of how lucky he is.

She'll fight for him or with him or against him, depending on what he needs. He's being an idiot? She'll knock him down a peg. He's about to die? Give the girl a suit and call her ironwoman cause guess who just joined the party. Same goes if he's perfectly fine and she's got the means to step in and lend a hand. Girl is versatile.

Never talk bad about Pepper Potts in front of Tony Stark. Ever.

"A lightime of laughter at the expense of the death of a bachelor."

Let me tell you: AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!

Pepper Potts and Tony Stark.

Need I say more? I think not.

[notproudofanyofthis]

Maggie May

Maggie May has a mullet. Yellow blonde that comes from a bottle. In fact, sometimes she wears a wig, which is to say, on a daily basis, she chooses to have a mullet. She once got kicked out of the American Legion for getting in a fight when another woman tried to pull off her wig. Her skin has been long sun-weathered, crinkly and creased, caked in thick foundation. She wears bright pink lipstick across her thin lips which she pulls back almost to her ears when she smiles, and blue eye-shadow to accentuate her intensely wide open, watery blue eyes. In her skin-tight denim jeans and denim jacket, she seems not to realize the rest of the world has moved on from the 80s, although she fits in with this town, where people have missed the memo about a great number of things.

How old is Maggie May? When my mother visits, Maggie May corners her and asks, “How old do you think I am?” My mom guesses, low-balling it as one must when one is cornered into guessing a woman’s age. “Nope!” Maggie May says, exultant. Leaning in, her eyes widen, as if she has a big secret to tell, and stage-whispers, “I’m 67.” My mother pretends to be shocked. “Now let me guess your age,” Maggie May says, and promptly over-estimates my mom’s age by five years.

Before I ever met her, I was warned not to talk to Maggie May. Joleen warned me first. “Becca,” she says, pinning me with her eyes, “do NOT be nice to Maggie May.” When I ask why, she simply responds, “Oh, you’ll see.”

One evening my friend Milo joins me at karaoke, and we sit next to each other at the bar. Maggie May comes up and does to Milo what she does to anyone who will listen: corners them, leans into their face, talks and talks with her wide crazy eyes, then barks a high-pitched laugh at whatever the last thing was that she said, and walks away just as suddenly as she had arrived, a petite blonde tornado. After she walks away, Milo turns to me and says, “Rebecca, you’ve gotta help me. That woman frightens me.”

The second warning to stay away from Maggie May comes from Sunny, a bar-tender whom I dated for two stupidly tumultuous months. Sunny is ten years younger than me. I was insecure about our age difference, felt like an old, unattractive, used-up, un-lovable person at the time, and Sunny said simply, “I don’t mind your age. I have a thing for older women.” In what seems to be a protective gesture, he warns me, “Stay away from Maggie May. She’s crazy.” I would dismiss his opinion as misogynist but for Joleen’s corroboration. How does Sunny know Maggie May? Maggie May dated Sunny’s brother Adam, an on-again off-again relationship Sunny’s and Adam’s step-mother has forbidden. 

The first time I chat with her (or rather, the first time she chats at me), all she talks about is Adam, who is approximately 30 years younger than her. “He’s my soul-mate,” she says. The second time she corners me at karaoke, she talks about Adam. “He’s my soul-mate,” she tells me again, always forgetting that she has told me this before. The third time we talk, she obsesses over Adam. “He’s my soul-mate,” she says, although they are not currently together. “His mom won’t let me see him,” she laments, week after week. But isn’t Adam an adult who can make his own choices? Yes, but everyone, including probably Adam himself, knows Maggie May is trouble for him. Adam has previously spent some time in jail, related to some trouble he got into, possibly with Maggie May’s assistance, possibly involving drugs.

Maggie May brings a jar of horse-radish to karaoke every week, and eats it with a spoon. At some point a mutual karaoke acquaintance sidles up to me and mutters through the side of his mouth, “Do you ever wonder if maybe there’s something else in that horse-radish?”

I am staying out at the river, on the out-skirts of town, just below the dam, at “the hatchery,” as everyone calls it, even though the hatchery has been closed for years, its doors boarded up, its windows smashed. It’s quiet here, the occasional fisherman driving in, but otherwise I have the place almost completely to myself. I am dry-docking, so I ride my bike over to the park bathroom to take a shower. I open the stall door and there, scrawled on the wall of the shower in thick black Sharpie, is a large scrolling note in girl-ish, strangely juvenile letters. The graffiti reads, “I heart Adam.”

I laugh. “Fuckin’ Maggie May,” I say to myself, shaking my head.

At karaoke, Maggie May has never not sung Loretta Lynn’s “Coal-Miner’s Daughter.” When required to sing more than one song, she starts with “Coal-Miner’s Daughter” and then moves on to another Loretta Lynn song about a phone-call break-up. Maggie May’s voice is not bad. In fact I believe she could sing more than just her favorites, but when I encourage her to take a risk and sing something new, she becomes visibly distressed, so I ease off, and we all continue listening to her repeat “Coal-Miner’s Daughter” every Tuesday and sometimes also Thursdays and Saturdays.

“Look!” she tells me, turning her back to me. She lowers her jean jacket and points to a large tattoo scrolling across her sun-weathered leathery shoulders. The tattoo says “COAL-MINER’S DAUGHTER.” I briefly wonder if she is an actual coal-miner’s daughter, but I don’t ask, because one of the things I learned early on about Maggie May is, if you show the slightest interest in her, she latches on, sometimes literally, and never lets go, basking in the sun-light of your attention like a blooming skunk cabbage.

One week Maggie May comes to karaoke and announces that she won’t be back for a month. “I’m going to Nashville,” she tells me proudly. “I’ve got a recording deal. A record producer saw me singing ‘Coal-Miner’s Daughter’ on YouTube and he wants to record me.” When she returns two weeks later, never again is there any mention of any record deal.

One night at karaoke Maggie May is distraught. She is sitting with an old, dirty-looking man. She comes over to me, her eyes wide. “That man is stalking me!” she says, almost seeming on the verge of tears.

She has told me before that various men are stalking her. This being not the first time she has a stalker, I express the right kind of empathy she’s looking for, so she continues. The story is, she has been living with this dirty old man. He bought her a car. Now, she wants to break up with him, but when she tried to do so, he threatened to take away the car. When she argues with him that he can’t take the car back because her job depends upon it, he reaches out across the bar and takes her keys. “And then he left!” she tells me. “So now I don’t have a ride home from karaoke! Do you think I should call the police? They never do anything. Can you give me a ride home? It’s only five minutes from here.”

I have gotten sucked into Maggie May’s drama, just as Joleen predicted. I already have a carpool buddy I need to take home. But reluctantly I tell her yes, I can drive her home. “Do NOT be nice to Maggie May,” Joleen’s voice nags in the back of my mind, and now I understand the portent of her warning.

Karaoke ends. Ariel and I head to my car. Maggie May runs after us and tells me, “I left my phone inside, I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me!” Then she goes inside, and disappears. Two minutes becomes five minutes. Five minutes becomes ten minutes. Ariel wants to leave. So we leave.

The next week, she is angry with me for “abandoning” her. I tell her I didn’t know where she had gone. “It’s fine,” she says, in that voice that says it’s not really fine. “I got a ride from Mandy.”

Mandy comes over to me later, while Maggie May is elsewhere, and whisperingly fills me in on how that car ride went. Apparently, instead of a five-minute drive, Mandy ended up driving Maggie May all the way out to Caballo, a 20-minute ride at least, along a dark winding county road. “She had that Adam guy with her,” Mandy tells me, “and they made out in my rear-view mirror the entire time I drove. It was so awkward. They were practically having sex in my back seat.” When they get out to their destination in Caballo, Maggie May announces to Mandy that she just needs to go in and get something from Adam’s place real quick. Then she and Adam disappear inside the house and she doesn’t come back out for a long time. Mandy waits, and waits, and finally leaves.

After Sunny and I break apart, the subject of Sunny comes up some night at karaoke. “Weren’t you dating Adam’s brother Sunny?” Maggie May asks me pointedly.

“Unfortunately, yes,” I tell her.

“I dated Sunny too,” she says. “He’s got a thing for older women,” she says, winking at me, her cake-y blue eyeshadow sparkling.

I realize, horrified, that I am in the same category as 67-year-old Maggie May. I am An Older Woman. I feel disgusted with myself. I slept with a guy who slept with Maggie May? Ugh! And he never told me! He talked shit about Maggie May so many times, but always in the context of the crazy relationship she had with his brother Adam—never did he once mention he himself had slept with her.

(Later I find out Sunny also slept with Ashley’s mom, Susan, a 50-something meth addict with crooked teeth. When I learn this, I wonder just how much lower I can possibly sink. Bitterly, I have learned the true meaning of a joke several people have told me, which goes something like, “In this town, you don’t break up with your boyfriend, you just lose your turn.”)

But for all that, Maggie May never frightened me. Perhaps it was because I had already been inoculated by Joleen against getting sucked into Maggie May’s various dramas, but I always just gave Maggie May the one thing she wanted most, which was attention, the belief that she had a friend, someone to listen to her fast-talk. I hold my own with Maggie May, because sometimes I am able to get a word in edge-wise and surprise her with genuinely curious follow-up questions to her rapid-fire stories. One day as she swoons about Adam, her soul-mate, I ask her, “Maggie May, do you think you and Adam are *good* for each other?” And in a moment of honesty she looks at me with those watery blue eyes and says, “No, probably not,” and laughs her high laugh and flits away to chat with somebody else.

[runawayforthesummer]

Chapter 23, Full Hearts, Empty Pockets

I want to point out again that we’re STILL in February.  Do you think Melissa de la Cruz knows how long of a month February is? 

Like, we can move into March at this point.  Pretty sure we’d already be there if I added up the days.  But lord knows I’m not going back to do that.

Walking on a cloud after another evening with Eliza, Alex had lost all track of time.

Do you sense what I sense is coming?

“Password, Colonel?”

Oooooooh yeahhhhhh.

He had forgotten the password—which was rather awkward since he was in charge of coming up with them.

“Er…Eliza?” he said after a moment.

Well, if Ham were really in charge of coming up with them, it wouldn’t surprise me if that’s it.

It’s not that, of course, but Hamilton keeps trying.

“Elizabeth?” Alex said.  “Beth?  Betty?  Betsey?  Bits?  Lisa?  Liza?  Eliza?”

You did that one already, silly.

And just when I think you cannot mess up the passcode story because it is legit perfect.

“And I shall keep trying”—Alex saluted the guard as he sauntered past him towards the mansion—“for it is the only name on my mind.  Feel free to shoot me, Corporal,” he added.  “I am so in love that bullets will only bounce off.”

Like, even dead Alexander Hamilton thinks this guy is a little much.

Instead of a ten year old telling Ham the passcode, which is truly a huge part of the charm of the story, the Lieutenant just gives it up.

“Laurens is right, you are a gone man.”

EXCUSE ME MY BOYFRIEND TENCH SAID THAT NOT JOHN LAURENS.

The next morning, Hamilton gets a note from Gertrude inviting him over to dinner, just the Cochrans, the girls, and the boyfriends.

Hamilton takes this all as a good sign, of course.

Certainly their time together so far had been encouraging, but he didn’t want to assume too much.  But he didn’t want to play it cool either, lest she think he was careless of her feelings.”

Pal, you are 100% not playing it cool.

Hamilton spends a long time prepping for dinner, even taking oranges meant for the rest of the officers so he’ll have a gift for his hostess.  That’s rude!

He’s the last one to arrive and finds the girls in the parlor.

Van Rensselaer was out of earshot, yet the drone of his voice could be discerned from the expression on his face.  Church stared at him blankly, clutching a goblet as though it were the only thing that kept him from bolting from the room.

I just realized that the longer Ham spends with Eliza, the ruder he’s becoming. HMMM.

Gertrude is thankful for the oranges and it’s now fine he took them.  Anything to make her happy! 

She leaned in close, and as she did, Alex got a good whiff of perry on her breath: Aunt Gertrude, it seemed, was tipsy.

She needs that liquid courage to confess her feelings!!!!

Gertrude introduces him to Church, but neither man mentions that they’ve met before.

Hamilton immediately gives Church shit for not being on the American’s side.

See what I said about him becoming more like Eliza?  Don’t be a jerk, Hamilton!  Especially since you probably know Church is on your side.

After hearing that Church is basically in the war for the money, Hamilton’s not sure what to think of him.

Angelica’s beau was either a shrewd man or a buffoon, he wasn’t sure which.

How dare you refer to Madeline’s husband like that!

They are seated for dinner and Hamilton is far away from Eliza.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Angelica said, almost before they had begun eating, “we have been seeing a great deal of you lately.  Or should I say, my sister Eliza has been seeing a great deal of you.”

Alex felt his cheeks warm.  “Not nearly as much as I would like,” he said quietly, and dipped his spoon into his stew.

Angelica asks about his intentions, but Hamilton is rightfully not into sharing his feelings with everyone at the table.

“Dear me, Eliza,” Angelica continued, turning to her sister, “I hope he has more gumption on the battlefield than he does with females, or the war is doomed.”

What a pleasant person Angelica is!

“Why, I told Mr. Church he was too old and too short for me the first time we met, and he still told everyone that he was going to marry me!”

Again, very, very pleasant girl, our Angelica.

Hamilton stands up to her and Eliza smiles.

But Alex’s gaze was caught by Angelica’s.  She had the strangest look on her face.  Of determination, mixed with chagrin.  It was as if she were determined to put him on the spot, yet she also feels guilty about it.

Hamilton figures she’s getting external pressure to be a bitch. 

And Angelica goes right for bringing up their parents.  Eliza tells her she’s being too bold.

[Angelica tells Eliza] “You have never had any sense when it comes to men, and if someone else doesn’t look out for you, you will end up penniless and cooking your own food.”

It is the parents, Alex said to himself.  It must be.

“I assure you that I would cook for Miss Schuyler, if it came to that,” he said, attempting levity.

Yeah, it’s pretty funny to think about a MAN doing the cooking, amiright?

Angelica goes in on him about being poor some more.  Pretty in character for Hamilton, even though he’s sure she’s being put up to this, that he still takes the bait and defends his family. 

And pretty quickly, Angelica gives up the rouse.   Lame.  This was fun.

“You must know, Colonel Hamilton, how inordinately fond we all are of you.  Even my father…”

She goes on about the background of the Schuylers, as if Hamilton isn’t well aware.

“To see my sister wedded to a man whom she loves and admires would give me nothing but joy, but you can’t possibly expect to claim her with a bag of oranges, can you?”

Eliza is clearly offended by the whole speech, which gives Hamilton some relief. 

Peggy and Stephen looked embarrassed, whereas Aunt Gertrude’s eyes, when they met his, were positively heartbroken.

Someone give Gertrude a hug and some love!

But the most unhappy person at the table (save perhaps him) was clearly Angelica.

Girl, you’re willing to elope with the dude you love.  Why do you give a fuck what your parents ask you to do when it comes to your sister?  Stand up to them or tell them you’ll do it and don’t.  This doesn’t feel like it fits with her character at all.

But Hamilton is not afraid to stand up for himself and tell her exactly what he’s accomplished: from his role working for Washington to whose lips have spoken his name.  It’s good and I’m proud of him.

“Miss Schuyler,” he said then, turning back to the eldest sister, “at the risk of public hubris, may I remind you that I am the chief aide-de-camp to His Excellency, General George Washington…on his behalf and on behalf our country, I have corresponded with the representatives of no fewer than four kings, thirteen princes, and twenty-one dukes…Further, in my defense…my own name is known to every American of any distinction whatsoever…and it is by their high standards, and not by a list of names in a kirkyard, that I judge myself and expect others to judge me.”

You know what’s insane in this whole exchange though?  Eliza who won’t shut up if you ask her has not really stood up for him once!  Wouldn’t you expect her to, rather than sit there meekly?  Of all moments, this should’ve been her and Hamilton defending him.

“That’s quite an impressive roster of names, sir,” she said when he had finished.  “It sounds like my mother’s Christmas card list.”

Apparently everyone finds this hilarious and only then does Eliza say anything.

“Oh, come now, Angelica, you know Mama has only ever corresponded with two kings, and one of those was an exile from some Italian isle that is hardly larger than the Pastures,” said Eliza, setting the joke squarely back on her sister.

Apparently, everything is cool after this somehow, except Hamilton covers up that he can’t stop thinking of what Angelica reminded him: “he belonged to no one.”

Just as he’s about to leave that evening, Angelica runs into him.

“In truth, Colonel Hamilton,” she said, “you haven’t got a penny to your name, do you?  A pity, for it appears you are quite taken with my sister, and it bereaves me to say that the feeling is mutual.  Alas.”

I’m so uninterested in whatever game Angelica is playing.  She tells Eliza to go for the romance but she tells Ham it’s never going to happen and it’s just sort of rude to both of them.

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper’s Guest Review of No Ordinary Dog by Will Chesney

No Ordinary Dog by Will Chesney with Joe Layden shows why dogs are man’s best friend. The canine four-legged patriots put their lives on the line for their partners but also to keep Americans safe. The heart of the book is the love between a man and his dog. Although both are elite soldiers, ultimately, they were a man and dog that had a bond like no other.

This July 4th, Americans should remember why it is important to celebrate.  Chesney and his dog Cairo served gallantly to make sure that that their fellow citizens were able to enjoy inalienable rights endowed equally to all including life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Some might remember the name, Cairo, since this Belgian Malinois military working dog went on the mission to get Osama bin Laden along with his handler Will and approximately two dozen others. They were able to find and kill the man who wanted to take away all the liberties. Everyone on that mission, except Cairo received a Silver Star for their “gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States.” Will was disappointed because he felt that Cairo risked just as much.  

But the book does not begin with that mission but with Will, a recent high school graduate, deciding he wants to be a Navy SEAL. The first part of the book has details of SEAL training. The next portion of the book talks about how the military acquires their Combat Attack Dogs and goes about training them. But the meat of the story begins in 2008 when Will decided to become a Navy dog handler and he met his partner, Cairo. They worked side by side, depending on each other for survival on hundreds of critical operations in the war on terrorism.  The book ends with Will and Cairo together helping each overcome their emotional and physical wounds.  Will was recovering from TBI, while Cairo from his many wounds received while a military dog.

Will told how he feels privileged while serving alongside “some of the bravest and best men you could ever hope to meet.  I also had the distinct honor of working and living with an unusual and unsung hero, a four-legged warrior named Cairo. He did everything expected of his human counterparts, and he did it with unblinking loyalty and unwavering courage.  I would have taken a bullet for him, and he did in fact take one for me. Cairo became my dog.  And I was his dad.”

When asked if he agrees with the quote by Senator Martha McSally in her book, Dare To Fly, “I wouldn’t have survived this far without the unconditional love of the furry, four-legged angels in my life.  You can make it through nearly anything if you come home to the love of a dog who brings smiles, joy, and a coat to dry all tears.”

He responded, “Definitely yes!  Anyone who has ever shared his life with a dog understands the symbiotic nature of the relationship. A dog relies on us for sustenance and shelter, while they respond with love and loyalty that is unconditional.  Take that relationship and multiply it tenfold and that is the bond forged between a military handler and their dog.”

Cairo was a dog with athletic ability, sensory gifts, and a tireless work ethic. Yet, he was also affectionate with a laid-back demeanor.  Will describes it “as throwing a switch.  When it was time to go to work, he would work. There was also something else that made him special, a ferocious drive to perform and serve with his human counterparts in Special Operations. He could sniff out an IED, saving dozens of lives, or find the bad guys. But he knew when we went home it was time to hang out. He and I would sit on the coach and watch movies together or eat steak together.  I could sleep right next to him and trust him with strangers and children. He was in many ways my closest friend.”

To show what a special dog Cairo was there is a scene in the book where, in Afghanistan, they encountered some insurgents.  Cairo could help neutralize the enemy by taking away their advantage, the ability to hide.  He was following the scent, weaving in and out of the trees.  Then, shots rang out.  He came upon two terrorists and engaged one of them.  The other one shot at Cairo, who was hit in the chest and leg.  This revealed the insurgent’s position, which saved SEAL lives.  After hearing Will call out his name, Cairo was able to find his way back, collapsing from a nearly shattered leg and a gaping chest wound.

Will explained, “He was treated just like a soldier, one of the family of brothers.  The medic came up and stuffed gauze into the chest wound.  Within a few minutes a medevac helicopter came and flew us back to Sharana where a team of doctors worked on him for hours.  These were physicians who normally treated human soldiers. He was treated just like any other soldier.  They didn’t treat Cairo like a dog, but simply as a wounded member of the US Armed Forces.  They performed an emergency tracheotomy to open his airway and inserted chest tubes. They put a brace on his leg to stabilize the wound and to keep his femur from falling apart. He was then put on a plane bound for Bagram Airfield where there were veterinary staff. While recovering he had rehab and then back to Lackland Air Force base in Texas. Eventually he recovered and was able to resume his life as a critical member of our team.”

Through thick and thin Will and Cairo were there for each other.  Starting in 2012 Will had debilitating and painful headaches, probably caused from a grenade blast experienced in Afghanistan. The headaches had become chronic, which caused depression that led to self-medication.  To make matters worse, there was the fact that he had an undiagnosed traumatic brain injury.  He became confused and angry and terrified. His hair was falling out from the stress.  What finally helped him was stopping by the kennel to play with Cairo, which is when he decided that he wanted Cairo to retire with him.

“I wanted him to be with me and my girlfriend Natalie.  He had earned a better life that included chilling at home with dad, eating a steak, running loose in the yard or at the beach, watching TV, sleeping wherever the hell he wanted to sleep.  Cairo had served his country honorably, saving my life and countless others. It seemed only right that he gets a chance to have a few happy and relaxing years. I felt he needed me, and I sure needed him. In April 2014 he came home.”

What makes Will special as an author is that he can put into words what others are feeling.  Anyone who is a dog lover and who has lost a dog can relate to what Will said in the book. The story does not “end on a high note.  It never does with dogs, right?  Someone once said that buying a dog is like buying a small tragedy.  You know on the first day how it all will turn out.  But that’s not the point, is it?  It’s the journey that counts, what you give the dog and what you get in return.”  He directly noted, “Our relationship was based on mutual respect, trust, and love.”

Readers will take a journey with Will.  They will get to know Cairo, and understand the relationship that forges between a dog and handler.  This book is informative, heartfelt, and also a heart-wrenching memoir about a Navy Seal and his bond with Cairo, a Belgian Malinois, designated a combat assault dog.  As Will said in summarizing their relationship, “Cairo gave me more than I ever imagined, probably more than I deserved. The bond is crazy.”

[arcticdementor]

The Paths Ahead

Author Sarah Hoyt gives four scenarios for the not-too-distant future:

1. “Pie in the Sky”:

In this scenario people set themselves free.  At some point, they get tired of the disaster porn the media is feeding them and get out of their basements, and look around to realize that no, we’re not all dying like flies, there are no bodies on the streets, the hospitals are so far from overwhelmed that doctors and nurses are choreographing dance numbers in the hallways, all while grandma’s cancer gets worse, and mom goes without heart surgery because the government closed the hospitals, to make way for a surge of COVID-19 deaths that never happened.

Then people get angry and jam the streets and start screaming and yelling and refusing to be arrested. They, in fact, become the America Hong Kong thinks we are.

The governors, in terror, realize they’ve gone too far, and lost all plausible cover.

If this happens soon enough, it will be tight this winter, but not outright famine.  If this happens soon enough, and Trump realizes it (if he has a talent, it is reading people) he puts the blame squarely where it belongs.  He denounces “governing by “experts”” and does a 90 degree turn and tells us how we were fooled.  And what the media and the DNC (BIRM) did to the country, all to put their spokeszombie in charge.

…

In ten years, from a happy, prosperous America starting to colonize space, we look back at this moment of utter insanity and say “yeah, but without it, the breakage of the old institutions would have been slower, more painful, and we’d have ended up in a more centralized and less free society.”

2. “It Could Be Worse”

As the lockdown extended into July in some places, and the other places were far from normal, as the obviousness mounted of shortages, and that those who had presumed to tell us what to do were not only wrong but criminally so, unrest started to happen.

The fourth of July was bad across the country, as the nation woke to what had happened in Sacramento, and there was a brief attempt to demonize “militias” which had worked so well under Clinton.  But while horrified by the events shown on TV, America as a whole had listened to the media for the last time. So the attempt had the opposite effect.  One on one, neighborhood by neighborhood, neighbors started talking, organizing. At least in the functional parts of the country, this resembled more a mutual aid society.  “Oh, your computer needs a part my dead computer might have.” and “I see little Timmy has outgrown his shoes. Well, since they still won’t let thrift stores happen and clothing stores are having supply issues, let me see if I have a pair Billy wore only for a month before his growth spurt.”

…

As cold hits and  the personnel to man power plants isn’t always available — the authorities are still being paranoid about colds and there are union rules — even those who are self-sufficient pass some very cold nights.  Media’s dramatization of homeless freezing in the streets is shrugged off by a population that is scrambling for the next meal (having money doesn’t mean there’s food you can afford.) Strangely a lot of the homeless clean up. More than freeze or starve? Who knows. It’s not like the media covers those.  There are also some brutal crimes, some food riots, neighborhoods perceived as “rich” under siege by those who wish to redistribute.  No one knows how many. The media makes it sound like “they’re coming for you next, and you must elect socialists to save you.”  The socialist rethoric is now strident.  You’re fairly sure 2020 has lasted a lifetime. Your doctor is still only sporadically in, as your local government takes sudden panics over “infection.” And you know damn well that grandma wouldn’t have died of her cancer if she’d had some chemo. She was only in her early seventies, too, and you were counting on her for babysitting.

When the famine hit in the rest of the world, including parts of Europe, most people didn’t even notice.  They noticed the push at the border. They noticed politicians talking about the brotherhood of man and how we should open our borders and ship all our food abroad.  In a leaner — literally — and more food-anxious population this goes over like a lead balloon.

Which is probably why all hell breaks loose when the election results come in and the international socialists won.

…

They don’t recommend you teach your kids about the winter of 20-21 until they’re mature enough. They leave it to you to decide what mature enough is, but for most people it’s just before franchise. Which is now 21 in most states and restricted in the way each state decided.

…

Most states agree that you’re an adult after you served in the army or have been married for 3 years with at least one child.  SSM?  Well, some states allow it. Cut your cloth to fit your pattern. You might have to immigrate to another state. Yes, it’s a pain now a days. But that’s the result of sending power back to the states and disempowering the out of touch feds.

Whether the fiddly bits of the person you marry are unlike yours or not, devolving to local rule means Mrs. Grundy has a say.  The Karens didn’t go away. But instead of policing you for compliance with mask policy or compliance with the latest SJW command, after the boog the Karens want you to know you should be married, faithful and living a life just like everyone else.

We never go social credit or intrusion by the state. But we find out the tyranny of our neighbors is just as strong.

Oh, the boog was brief but horrible.  Between it and increasing economic disorganization, we lost more people and wealth than we could afford.  The US is a young country. Neighborhoods are full of children. Most of the children are either homeschooled, or schooled in neighborhood-arranged schools so the parents can go to work.  Admission to college (rare) or trade school is by merit exam. No one collects data on the race of the applicants. They seem representative of the area it’s drawn from.

But college or trade school come after the army.  Mandatory for men. Voluntary for women.  Strangely no one complains women aren’t given combat posts, by and large (there are exceptions.  The beast is always hungry), probably because serving in the army has a real chance of dying.  People joke about it, nervously, as “have two and one for the war.”  Most people have more, simply because they remember the twenties and how the elderly with no support network …  well, most of them didn’t starve. But it wasn’t pretty.

3. “Cry Havoc”

It was around June the rocket went up.  No one was quite sure what caused it, because it didn’t happen in JUST one place, but seemed to happen everywhere in the space of a week.

…

Someday when there is enough leisure and money somewhere to study the matter, someone will discover the true, first trigger to armed insurrection.

Was it when New Jersey, for the upteenth time blocked a protest and started arresting protestors?  Was it people protesting the closure of their local hospital being shot on by state guard in another state?  Was it the food riots in Chicago? Or the subway riots in New York City?

Figuring it out is more complicated because the media never reported these until it was everywhere at once.  People woke up one morning to find out the nearest large-ish city was burning, there were shots nearby, and large, angry mobs in the street, and your nearest highway was bound to be blocked.

They did the sane thing and hunkered down, this time for cause, turned on the TV — mostly showing governors assuring people everything was all right — and waited for things to calm down.

They didn’t.

…

We are in the tenth year of the rebellion.  You’d think it would have burned out by now, but there is just enough coherence and order to keep food on the table — sort of — most places.

Yes, the US army has engaged, but no one is even sure on what side.  The answer is probably “on all”.  We believe they are trying, most of all, to restore peace, except there is very little left.  And a conventional army always has trouble with guerilla warfare.

Ordinary Americans still live, through this.  Those who can work from home, if home is in a safe place and they can find a market for their work.  And you remember how you hit the net during a snow storm, to find out what streets were safe to drive on? Same thing. Only it’s with gunfire and explosions as the risk.  Informal networks, both of neighborhood and on line also communicate when food is available and where.  You might even be able to find your local doctor, who is often operating way outside his specialty and with no materials but is better than nothing.

The possibility of driving to the grocery store and finding yourself in the middle of a pitched battle is always there.

…

There are rumors of a force marching on Washington DC to capture it and make some sort of order. Some people say it is the US military itself. Other people… well, reports vary.

Orders are given periodically purporting to come from the government, but since everything comes through informal networks, it’s impossible to be sure.  We thought they had a network just for this?

This can’t go on forever.  Right now, what’s happening is people leaving places they feel are hostile to join either family or their ideological brethren.  That too is an order of sorts. The population is choosing territory.

4. “The Boot”

It started with Winnie the Flu, and looking around and wondering why everyone else had gone mad.  Shockingly even a lot of people who were smart and whom you’d have considered rational and freedom lovers went all in on the side of the lockdown, and swore it was all justified, even though the rules made no sense and most of them had nothing to do with disease.

…

BUT the few people who screamed about this were dismissed as “denialists.”  Apparently denialists of the end of the world.

And the government band played on.

And the two weeks turned into a month and a half to three months lockdown, destroying businesses, livelihoods, lives, and disrupting many supply chains including those for food. The fact people were confined in the house, watching TV 24/7 and that TV was non stop doom porn didn’t help.  It never occurred to anyone that if TV could dramatize everyone under 80 who died, it was because there were so few of them.  Instead people panicked.

…

There was a “temporary” lockdown in November and in the all vote by mail the left party won a stunning victory that might or might not have more votes than logical or plausible.

But people were too scared, some of the virus, some of the already precarious conditions. Too busy trying to find food.

The unlocking in December was trusted-people first.  And in the aftermath — because the virus was so bad, you see — strict tracking of every citizen was instituted. Strict social credit too.

Want to keep a blog, or talk on your phone more than peer-to-peer one person at a time? Your social credit has to be perfect.

No one knows how many people died the winter of 20/21 or how many by famine and how many by bullet.  Many a hunter in the woods, accidentally uncovers a mass grave, but if he knows what’s good for him, he doesn’t talk, and when the police who track the phone he must carry later ask what he saw, if he knows what’s good for him, he saw nothing.  With a few years of staying silent, he might be trusted again.

And he has to be trusted. Everyone does. Otherwise buying necessities is impossible. They’re so scarce anyway.  And having a job is a privilege. Receiving your dole if you don’t work is a privilege too.

…

If you manage to kill someone important on camera, you just sealed a death warrant for everyone you know. And the viewers, if they’re smart, will forget.

Periodically, if the rulers sense something particularly unsettled, they might lock down an entire region. It’s always a “virus.”

After 2028 they stopped bothering with the elections.  We don’t know why power changes sometimes, only that the new face shows up on TV and nothing changes.

But we’re living. More or less.  Most people live.  We’re told people abroad aren’t that lucky.  of course, no one not cleared has gone abroad in a long time.

Maybe some day someone will rebel in the name of freedom again, but food is so scarce, and even talking of how things used to be will get your ration card pulled.

[isabelmarantachat]

City Portrait: Mebane

photograph by Anna Routh-Barzin

My first real connection to Mebane came 10, maybe 15 years ago, when a friend asked me: Would I mind watering her flowers a couple of times a week over the course of that July, while she was out of town? Could I specifically water her sedum — once cuttings, she was eager to tell me, from her grandmother’s garden? My friend, an art historian, was remodeling a fabulous 100-year-old house near downtown (like seemingly everyone else I knew in Mebane). The bones of the thing were so good: heart pine floors, huge windows, long shotgun kitchen. She and her architect spouse threw noisy parties, cooked whole fish in salt merengues, let friends and neighbors draw cartoons in pencil on the bathroom walls. I understood Mebane to be a place of wonder, is what I’m saying. A place where people looked after one another — and, by extension, took good care of each other’s heirloom succulents.

Mebanesville — the town’s name for three years before it was shortened to its current moniker — was incorporated in 1881 and was a furniture town, a mattress town, a mill town, a railroad town. But this is the story of so much of central North Carolina; nothing necessarily particular blooms from that. So I asked a painter friend and Mebanite: What makes Mebane Mebane? What about this town makes it so nurturing, makes it a place where things can grow? “Oh,” he said. “You need to ask Evan” — a mutual friend and another art historian. (Mebane! Locus of all things art and art history!) “She’s to Mebane what Andy Warhol was to New York City,” he said.

Left: Art historian Evan Gatti and her dog, Fresca, on their front porch in downtown Mebane. Right: Collectibles at the Curious Peddler. photograph by Anna Routh-Barzin

Off to Evan Gatti, then. Who lives, of course, in a 100-year-old house she just remodeled. And who also hosts terrific parties. Note to you, dear reader: It only takes asking two or three people about Mebane to start wanting, in a necessarily particular way, to move there.

If your sense of Mebane is one that starts at the interstate, at the outlet mall, then you’ve got it not quite right. Though I love a good deal as much as anybody, if you’re out that way, you need very much to drive the couple of miles north on Fifth Street into downtown proper. There you’ll find, nestled along the train tracks, several blocks of two- and three-story brick buildings that seem lifted out of — well, not a movie, because none of it’s that precious. Mebane seems more genuine than that. I ask Evan if she knows what I’m getting at.

“We do have a sense of our history as part of our present,” Evan tells me over coffee at Filament, her local coffee-shop haunt. White string lights hang in the windows; people cluster at tables playing board games, planning dinners. Everyone seems to know everyone else one way or another. Impromptu carpools spring up more than once while we talk. But the history is here, too: exposed bricks, original beams, original doors in some of these storefronts. Painted mosaics right on the pavement. I’ve been out walking, and it’s like this all over. Mebane seems to understand both where it’s been and where it’s going.

There is a sense of being part of a rambling sort of extended family here.

The sprawling White Furniture Company building on one side of the tracks has been turned into lofts, and so has an old mill on the other side. The thriving downtown streets boast bookstores (two bookstores? Even if they double as gift shops? Mebane, I swoon) and bars and restaurants galore, running the gamut from Karma on Third, an organic café that seems lifted from Boone or Asheville, to Pomodoro’s, a classic Italian place that made the newspaper last fall just for changing its menu. There’s an authenticity here, the sense that all these American flags and North Carolina flags flying off the tops of all these buildings aren’t jingoistic but instead hopeful, earnest, honest. The downtown murals suggest this, too: The huge paintings depicting Mebane’s past — horses and buggies, steam trains, drugstores with soda fountains — just belong, and feel very much part of the place, instead of, well, painted-on. An art historian could probably say it better than I.

“People are interested in balancing growth and our small-town vibe,” Evan says, and goes on to talk about her fondness for her local government, her feeling that it’s easy to get involved in this place, to feel — to know — you’re making real change.

And then she gets excited. Governance and policy is one thing. Daily life is another.

It’s a feeling of belonging, of knowing your neighbors. There is, Evan says, a sense of being part of a rambling sort of extended family here. Halloween is done ’70s-style: kids all over the streets and parents hanging out in the yards in between, dusk settling like a blanket. In the summers the city closes down blocks for live music. There’s a dogwood festival. There are food clubs that end in farm-to-table dinners beneath string lights in backyards. I must come back for the Christmas parade, Evan tells me, a nighttime extravaganza that must be seen to be believed.

Left: Downtown Mebane’s eye-catching (and eye-opening) offerings include a flight of organic, free-trade java at Filament Coffee + Tea. Right: Pan-seared snapper with wilted brussels sprout leaves, shallots, pork belly, and house-made pasta at The Mebane Downtown Table. photograph by Anna Routh-Barzin

Snow days, Evan says, are the best. Kids gather in clumps at all the best hills, and the parents aren’t far behind. “We often move from the ‘hill house’ to the ‘heat house’ for the evening,” she tells me, laughing. “One of our neighbors built a pizza oven in his backyard, so he’s pretty popular. We have three home-brew kegs on tap, so our house is usually part of the equation, too.” Her lone Mebane complaint: no brewery. Yet.

The houses are set far enough apart in these blocks to get a sense of the land rolling away toward the mountains on one side, the sea on the other. The sunrises and sunsets, Evan says, are spectacular. You can see the night sky, something you can’t say of larger cities, with their lights run amok. “I can always find the Big Dipper when we get home after dark,” she says. “It’s one of my favorite things to look for.” And storms, Evan says — she likes to watch storms from her turquoise front porch swing, or from the neighborhood pool, “when they roll in with that welcome wind, parents rushing to gather stuff before the rain, or their kids from the water before they get electrocuted.” She shrugs. “Priorities.”

Fear not: Mebane is a city that watches out for its kids. Adult swim and the 30-minute lightning-and-thunder rule both still apply. Maybe that’s the very heart of it, even: I well remember those summer days all those years ago, tending my friend’s garden. The smell of the water from the hose was the smell of my own childhood, a childhood it was so easy to imagine had taken place here, in Mebane. Maybe it’s all these Craftsmans and Victorians. Maybe it’s the kids running from one screen door to the next, the line between friend and family readily blurred. Mebane, you come to understand, is not a small town just dressing up like one. It’s not a city that can’t figure out what to be. The Fourth of July parade didn’t make the national news because it was trying too hard — it’s that people here just seem to know how to move from day to day. You get out of the car, and you think, yes, I could live here. I could build a life. And you get the clear sense that you’d be welcome — that before you even started pulling boxes off the moving truck, you’d already be somebody’s neighbor.

In the Neighborhood

Local characters come together to make Mebane a welcoming place.

The Gourmet Chef Bob Compton at The Mebane Downtown Table prepares a variety of elegant dishes to complement the romantic, upscale atmosphere in the heart of downtown Mebane. Order classic Southern shrimp and grits, or be more adventurous and try the vegan napoleon. Neither will disappoint. themebanedowntowntable.com.

The Train Collector Tommy Long donated his scale-model train collection — one of the biggest in Alamance County — to create the Mebane Train Display. The collection has expanded to include seven trains that wind through detailed miniature landscapes. On the second Saturday of the month, the community turns out to see the trains in action. themebanetrainlayout.com.

The Artists Painters and potters and artisans of all kinds sell a mix of contemporary art — from oil to acrylic to mixed media to pottery — at Fine+Folk Art Carolina. The airy downtown gallery exhibits the works of local and regional artists, and also offers weekly painting classes and fine-art workshops throughout the year. fineandfolk.tumblr.com.

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