#every time i experience something beautiful or good i wish my granddad could experience it because he deserved it more than me

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry

[shananigans402]

1-65 will do, please. Thanks fuck face :)

I knew exactly who this was and I was so tempted to not reply, but your punishment is having to read through all my answers and remember them forever or you fail the friend test. To everyone else, please do not click unless you want to be very bored, my answers are not interesting lol

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? Nope

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? Assuming 5 is the most, 1. Maybe 2. 

3. The person you would never want to meet? The person who sent me this (jk I’m excited for our eventual meet up where we hit up a strip club first thing 🙏)

4. What is your favorite word? I answered with ‘conniption’ the other day and still have not found a word I like more.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? Already answered this, fruit tree! I also like palm trees, maple trees, and willow trees. I know that’s not the question, I’m just saying random shit now.

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? It took me a long while to remember where I was this morning. I honestly don’t remember, I was rushing to get ready for an early morning meeting.

7. What shirt are you wearing? My Orlando Strong shirt 

8. What do you label yourself as? Lesbian

9. Bright room or dark room? Bright room

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping? Possibly checking on a feverish little beeb who was going through it with her second dose of the vaccine.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? No idea. I like various ages for different reasons, but this age so far is not bad. 

12. Who told you they loved you last? Probably my sister 🤷‍♀️

13. Your worst enemy? The person who sent this ask.

14. What is your current desktop picture? The apple pic of Catalina island that changes based on time of day (yes it’s the default, don’t judge me)

15. Do you like someone? Lol yeah I hope so 😂

16. The last song you listened to? Pretty Girl by Hayley Kiyoko 

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? Definitely @raginage

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? I feel like I can only attack Raginage so many times. Can I pick a fictional character? This week I was real mad at Dave in The Darkness. BaBe!​

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? Lol no one, you’re talking to a person who feels very uncomfortable with anyone doing anything nice for them.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) Not this again. Last time I said eyes? Still no pics, sorry

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? What would I look like? Do I get to design myself like a sim? I honestly don’t know what I’d do because I doubt the world needs another clueless white man walking around, so maybe just stay at home. 

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? Nope. And my last answer to this was awful. I do think I have a fantastic ability to annoy my friends but in a way that’s just amusing/endearing enough to make them still want to talk to me 😌

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? Unique? Uhm well my two big fears are confined spaces and deep water so a submarine is like my worst nightmare.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. Oh this is going to sound so odd. To be clear, I’ve had better sandwiches, but my go-to is provolone, turkey, roast beef, and spicy brown mustard or whole grain mustard. Please don’t judge me.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? Travel budget for future trips to visit my buds and get into trouble and eat food. I know $100 won’t go far, but it’s something.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? Well, after my last answer I want to visit my friends! But there are too many people to visit and I only have one ticket. So change of plans. I’m going on a solo trip to Greece. Or Argentina. Or Iceland. Or Bali. Damn, I’m indecisive. 

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? Rabble red blend. Just a solid red wine. Also because @viola-lloyds stole my answer the other day (Juneshine; to be fair I asked her this question but whatever) and I don’t want to copy her.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Oh I answered this one, something about respecting others. Yeah, a nice rule like that. Want to establish some healthy communication on this island.

29. What is your favorite expletive? It’s still fuck

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? But what about my PLANTS. Can they count as loved ones? Probably my laptop, I know that’s lame but like...I have a lot of stuff on here. Or the collection of cards I have that my granddad drew little drawings in, I want to get them all framed.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? To be honest, I don’t know if I’d change big life events in case it altered the trajectory of where I ended up. So idk maybe the ending of Bly, let’s give those lesbians have a happy ending!

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! Italy! But wait, let’s get back to this sleeping with celebrities and super-powers bit...

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Oh that’s a really tough question. I always wanted to meet my great-grandma Olga because she seemed like a really awesome lady. 

34. What was your last dream about? I can’t remember, this is bothering me because I wish I could! I’m sorry. My gf recently had a dream where I kissed a dude right in front of her. It made us both very uncomfy lol

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? I hate this question because I can only think of one thing.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? For surgery, yeah

37. Have you ever built a snowman? But of course!

38. What is the color of your socks? Not wearing any? I was wearing blue ones earlier. Jfc my answers are so boring.

39. What type of music do you like? Lots! I tend to listen to indie, classic rock, and some pop

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Sunsets!

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Chocolate or a variant (chocolate peanut butter, chocolate caramel)

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) LA Rams or Seattle Seahawks. I know they’re in the same division. It’s tough. (Please don’t ask me why these teams)

43. Do you have any scars? Yep, mostly from burning myself on ovens. I simply get too excited for my food.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? I...have graduated? 

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Well bestie recently said I have “lesbian hands” and I think that’s code for man hands so maybe that hahaha

46. Are you reliable? I try to be!

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? How many more times will I watch The Darkness before I learn my lesson? (Related: When does other bestie finally admit to her fetish?)

48. Do you hold grudges? Not typically, no

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? A dog and an otter? Can we domesticate otters? No, a horse and a large bird, create a pegasus and then free travel.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? Oh god. I don’t even know where to start today tbh. Damie and pokemon and cosycon and looming and feet and [redacted] and developing apps for VP. So many fantastic conversations. 

In real life, probably the time I was at a laundromat in Italy and this guy wandered in with a beer, sat next to me and my male roommate, assumed we were a couple, and proceeded to give us bizarre life advice. I wish I could remember more of it, but it was so odd.

51. Are you a good liar? Hmm I’m okay at it I think, that is, I can convince people I’m serious when I’m actually joking. But I don’t like actually lying if it’s not just teasing someone. 

52. How long could you go without talking? Probably a few days if I had to.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? The haircut I got before studying abroad! It was too short and I was so sad.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? For a birthday? No. For fun? Absolutely.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? Not well, no

56. What do you like on your toast? Butter and/or honey and/or jam

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? My beautiful depiction of a scene of chapter one of Private Dancer. 

58. What would be you dream car? An electric car of some sort. I don’t know enough about cars tbh

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. Nope but sometimes I’ll play music and dance and maybe softly sing.

60. Do you believe in aliens? Yep! Definitely 

61. Do you often read your horoscope? Almost never unless someone sends it to me.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? Already answered, A

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? Dinosaurs! 🦕

64. What do you think about babies? What do I think about them? They’re pretty cool. Just tiny little humans. 

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. I was very nice and let you correct your mistake and submit one after the fact:

In your opinion what is the best thing you can cook, like your speciality? My favorite thing to make is pasta, I started making my own sauce and I’d love to make pasta from scratch sometime.

[ishkah]

Early Beginnings...

My 22 year old self spinning 15 year old diary entries into something or other…

One of my earliest memories is sitting by a river bend after school just sitting and thinking, being, remembering family togetherness building dams on the river, playing poo sticks. I wanted that deeply, I was aware I couldn’t be seen directly, playing with the other kids, but I also liked the idea that the adults would have to take time and think to know where I was.

With this came an identity, I heard a pride in my mum’s voice when she told the other mums where she found me, a deep nature boy that one.

I knew she would because whenever there was bedlam at home I would always take myself off outside. I knew how important it was that I didn’t see her cry because I saw it once, or get upset or argue but more than anything, she didn’t want me involved in the drama; to become something I didn’t understand.

My brother was a resistance fighter, in the trenches telling both parents what they were doing wrong, living the trauma, with two sunburn creased lines between his eyebrows to prove it.

I was a dreamer I liked this new state of being, I distrusted and held onto my words because I saw them used by other people like daggers or simply to pull on heartstrings. I must have thought a lot about how words are only used to hurt each other and get one over each other because by the time I was in secondary school I’d been given another personality story to hold onto.

I was like my great granddad I told people, he was a quite honorable man, would say hardly a word, but he always knew when something was at odds, so when he did speak his words had a profound impact on people. I became the listener and solver.

I thought about how small I was in this incomprehensible beautiful universe that I read in stories, I didn’t try much to understand it just admire it. I wanted to mimic its uniqueness, I wanted to be compassionate. I probably started labelling a lot of things, good and bad, normal and extraordinary. I went vegan with this people gave me the identity pacifist.

It wasn’t till the army came to school that I had a chance to practice what I’d learnt. Reading back over my diary at the time I felt a huge responsibility to my friends that they wouldn’t go off and get killed for no good reason. I’ve tried to stay as real to the 15 year old kid who’s newly forming ideas were shaped through the experience of what follows.

I spread my ideas militantly, if they were going to advertise the killing of innocents in my school, me and my young cronies were going to disrupt it. I wrote up a petition, confronted every kid in school with this reality. I made a ruckus because I was doing something radical that had never been tried before in the school’s history.

I must have got three quarters of the whole school to sign my little clipboard chart, not least because of the rumours that were spread, some of the kids straight out of primary learning about conscription in history class cued up to sign it, expressing a tangible fear.

My betrayal came suddenly, the teacher who invited the army to school flipped out at me, saying I was trying to limit other student’s access to knowledge about the army. I walked away furious, even more committed to stopping them, I schemed with friends how we could lock doors and sit on stage. I thought how an institution committed to educating, expanding minds could let someone go off and kill others halfway across the world.

I stubbornly asked all the head of staff each day when the army would be coming to school, all of them told me it hadn’t been scheduled but they’d tell me when they knew, not for a while…

When I walked into the school the next day to find everyone at assembly with teachers keeping a close eye on their forms in rows, I was pissed. I walked in from one side of the hall and surveyed the scene with contemptuous hilarity, down the hall, past the class sitting quietly transfixed on me, ignoring my form teacher’s calls to come sit down, and out the other end.

I sat outside with 4 girls fuming, a teacher came round to ask us back in, I glared back but 3 of us slinked back in. So this was the great resistance effort the 2 of us crumpled down to the floor.

We started talking about how depressing it all was, how powerless the teachers had made everyone feel, people had been scratching their name off the petition for fear of getting punished. We hated everything that was in that room and we threw in a few choice words of our conversation into the hall.

BULLSHIT!

The teachers guarding the doors peered through the curtains at us, they were afraid of us! Aha so they should be! Our beings and ideas were powerful!

The talk ended, the army officer came out and I felt an anger welling up in me, but I had nothing to say to him, the head of department came next, I had a maths lesson with him next but he’d lied to me only yesterday, I had no interest in hearing what he had to teach me. He encouraged me to move, saying it’s finished now, I laughed a laugh that came from the pit of my being, it was just the opposite of how I was feeling, a dramatic change in my being, nothing had come and gone, only feelings inside of me had grown a 1000 fold.

He threatened me with truancy, I learned the best way to get on an adult’s nerves was never to rise to them, never give them any ammunition. I just looked at him. None of the politics needed words, we weren’t going to get one over on each other, we were simply diametrically opposed and I wished the opposite of wanting to be understood by him by engaging him in conversation. I just watched him walk away.

The rest of the day I sat exactly where I was and made paper cranes for peace and talked to anyone and everyone. I was committed to public resistance. Resistance is emotional, beautiful even and I’d crossed a treasonous line with characteristic style. Action would from now and forever be how I wrote my story.

The next few weeks I was in and out of full-time detention where I wasn’t even allowed to go to class, I had to be watched carefully to curb my disruptive ways.

I raged against the teachers that had lied to me, but when I was in detention I got my first whiff of privilege, the kids I was in with admired my rage but with a sense of novelty.

I thought they’d understand more than anyone why I was fighting them, but they didn’t, they believed in the system more than anyone, they just got angry sometimes and needed to lash out and so were seen as unpredictable.

For most of them a care worker or teacher were the only people that would believe in them, show them the rails. I knew where the rails were but I wanted to derail them and set a new course.

But I began to hate the idea that I could afford to step off and be an example only to later intelligently articulate a political reason to excuse myself.

Even more entitled than that I had a co-conspirator mother who used her knowledge of childcare regulations to stop me from being expelled and afford me an easier sentence than my new friends who earned their detention by setting off alarms by setting fire to bits of paper and smoking in toilets

I came out of school feeling a strong sense of purpose, that words weren’t necessary in finding my-self, which validated my search for a spiritual interconnectedness based on compassion. Also the people telling you what you should or shouldn’t do can be the worst amoral shits on the planet.

I grew up as an outsider, the scouser transplanted into a tiny village in a valley in Wales. This moment was the activation of an identity I only knew through the biker friends of my mum and the stories they would tell together that I looked up to. An identity known only to myself that no one could take away from me, and I felt my internal world growing stronger, I felt a sense of purpose, the more active I felt fighting oppression, the more alive I felt. Now I have the privilege of being able to jump into so many struggles without getting burnt out or losing face.

My only limits are when I am being asked to conform to a situation I don’t agree with, in this way I need to stay spontaneous, my inner strength comes from the efficiency by which I can throw myself into a struggle and make gains, I am learning now to transform that into a circular routine of building my bases.

My outer self is a culmination of novelty stories of struggling through hardship and pushing through in pursuit of truth and finding pockets of hope. I need people around me to be open, allow me to tell my story slowly and not restrict my image to something that suits them.

When I’m on the road I’m still that little kid who disassociates, but the game of living with strangers allows me to feel creative. I feel like I need to make connections more strongly; because mutual aid is so important, the entire journey is dependent on other people. When I look at my life I see the journey, my life is about the means by which we make change not the end.

[torestoreamends]

Light in the Darkness Day 2 – Potter

Here’s my short fic for the second day of Light in the Darkness. The prompt was Potter, so here’s a little piece about Harry and Albus connecting over a photo of Lily and James Sr. It takes place during the summer holidays after Albus’s fourth year at Hogwarts.

*

Albus doesn’t know why he’s never noticed the photograph before, but he hasn’t. Or maybe he has, but he’s never stopped to look at it.

The scorching July sun streams in through the window, illuminating the swirling dust motes, and shining straight onto a picture of a man and a woman dancing.

Their arms are wrapped round one another as they twirl, their hands are locked together like they were made to fit that way. They’re pressed forehead to forehead, gazing into each other’s eyes as if nothing else matters but hazel and emerald and the person lying beyond.

Albus reaches over a photo of himself and Lily blowing bubbles together, and picks up the photo. Out of the glare of the light it’s even more beautiful.

He can see the heavy scattering of freckles on the woman’s cheeks; the man’s dimples as he beams at her. They look younger and more carefree than they did when he last saw them. The world hasn’t asked so much of them yet. They’re unburdened. Happy. In love.

“Albus!”

He drags his eyes away from the photo as his dad calls his name from the hall.

“Are you ready to come and...” His dad sticks his head round the living room door and trails off. Albus guesses he must look like he’s been hit with Stupefy — stunned and sluggish. His brain is so full of the photo that there’s not much room for anything else.

“Are you okay?” His dad asks.

Albus nods and glances down at the photo, then he holds it up for his dad to see. “I’ve never looked at this properly before.”

“What is- Oh.” His dad crosses the room and stops beside him, gazing down at the photo — at his parents. Albus watches as he scans the picture, drinking in every tiny detail.

“They look wonderful,” Albus murmurs. “Don’t they?”

Harry doesn’t say anything. He keeps looking at the photo, eyes glittering behind his glasses. Finally he nods and meets Albus’s eyes. “They do.”

“I- I was wondering...” Albus gestures to his grandmother. “Do I get my freckles from her?”

Harry looks between the photo and Albus, a little smile kindling on his face. “You know what? You might have a point. I always thought you got them from your mother, but yours are more pronounced than hers.”

“Blotchier. James used to say I’d got Spattergroit.”

“Your brother is very unhelpful sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

Harry grins and squeezes Albus’s shoulder. “Speaking of your brother. Don’t you think, if he had darker hair, he’d be the spitting image of your granddad?”

Albus tilts his head to the side and examines the photo. “No. Granddad is much better looking.”

Harry snorts. “Albus...”

“I’m just telling the truth!”

They catch each other’s eyes, and Albus leans into his dad’s side, smiling. When he settles, he glances up.

“Do you remember anything about them? Your parents?”

Harry shakes his head. “Very little. I used to think I remembered things, but mostly it’s just what people have told me. That and the dreams. You might even remember more than me.”

“I wish I’d seen more...” Albus sighs. “I wish I could have known them. They seemed so much fun. I think you had a good life, the three of you. Before everything...”

His dad nods, bowing his head over the photo. “I think so too.”

“They... they loved you.” Albus swallows and shifts away from his dad just far enough that he can face him properly. “One time when I saw your mum... She was wrapping you in your blanket, and I wanted more than anything to be able to tell you about it. I don’t think I realised, until then, how important it was. A-and I’m still sorry I tried to reject it. I should have- I don’t know. I should have known. Somehow.”

“Albus,” Harry murmurs. “You don’t need to keep saying sorry for that.”

“I know, but...” Albus flutters his hands, and hopes his dad will understand that he means he can’t not be sorry about it. Every time he thinks about it he gets frustrated that he didn’t listen. He could have prevented so much pain for everyone.

“Can I tell you something?” Harry asks. He gently places the photo of James and Lily back on the side where it belongs and turns to Albus. With his hands thrust into his pockets, his shoulders are hunched inward — an extra shield around his heart.

Albus nods. “Go on.”

Harry looks down at his shoes and takes a slow breath. “When we knew you were missing in time and there was no way to get to you... That was the first time I really understood how my mother saved me. Because if there was any spell in the world that would have brought you back, I know I could have cast it.

“It’s the most powerful magic in the world. Love. And I hope you know that you do make me stronger, Albus. The piece of my heart that belongs to you, without that, I couldn’t do the things I do every day. You’re what I fight for. I want the world to be full of light and hope for you. I want to come home and hear about your potion experiments and whatever misadventures you’ve got up to with Scorpius. I want to see everything you become. You-“ Harry reaches towards Albus, fingers outstretched, then he screws his hands up into fists and gestures to Albus’s chest. To his heart. “You may not be like Lily and James. You may not love Quidditch or enjoy school. You’ve never been what I expected. But you’re you. Albus Severus Potter. With your grandmother’s freckles and your grandfather’s hair, and- and my love. Always.”

Albus stares at him and doesn’t quite know what to say. He opens his mouth, hoping the right words will just come spilling out when he wants them to, but they don’t, so he closes his mouth again and swallows. When no words seem forthcoming after several interminable seconds of silence, he does the only thing he knows how to do. He goes to his dad and hugs him tight round the middle.

It takes less than the blink of an eye for his dad to hug him back. His arms close round Albus, warm and strong, and Albus buries his face in his dad’s jacket. There’s something about the safe cocoon of the hug that allows Albus to find his voice in his own time.

“Even though,” he mumbles. “Even though I wish we hadn’t said all that stupid stuff to each other... I got to see them. My grandparents. And I-I got to understand a lot of stuff, so... So maybe it was good that it happened. Is that weird?”

His dad presses a soft kiss against his forehead. “Not weird at all. Without all this — I hate to admit it, but — I don’t think I’d have realised just how bright you shine. But now I see you, Albus. And I’m so proud to call you my son.”

Albus squeezes his dad, squeezes his eyes tight shut, and lets the echoes of those words bounce around inside his head, overwriting the words from almost a year ago that he took so much to heart. And as he holds tight to his dad and thinks about his grandmother unfurling a blanket for warmth on a snowy day, it slowly dawns on him that these days, he’s pretty proud to be able to call himself a Potter.

[ineffablecolors]

Kinda have to agree with your previous anon there, a lot of the criticism is mostly out on emma during s5 and s6 comes off not good? like they make her out to be someone who abuses hook or what not? also just villanizes the cs relationship, people really don’t understand that we don’t want to see that? especially since most of it is coming from s7 stans who don’t like cs anymore?

ok, anon, I’m going to use your ask to state my opinion on a number of things and I sincerely hope that neither you nor anyone else will be personally offended by any of it but I’m not the kind of person that keeps quiet about anything so..

I approached my first ask without any prejudice and hopefully the anon can make some use of the blogs I recommended and the other recommended in the replies. But I got something out of that post as well because the awesome people I tagged and a bunch of others put into a nutshell the current “problem” we seem to have - some fans want a completely positive and happy fandom experience without criticism of their favourites and with joyful immersion and acceptance of canon, other fans like to view everything critically, discuss and dissect and speculate on how what they see as flaws in canon could have been fixed or avoided.

There is nothing wrong with that. There are blogs that are criticism-free and they are wonderful places. Hell, I’m a really damn positive person and I think that I mostly keep to the joy and love side of things as well. However, I have no problem seeing discourse, criticism and even some negativity on my dash either. I don’t think this variety is a problem at all, I think it’s part of the beauty of fandom. Yes, I have unfollowed people who spend more time posting negativity than positivity about something I love but even then I’ve never judged those people for being disappointed by a show/fandom and venting. That’s what the follow/unfollow buttons are for - so one can curate one’s dash to one’s tastes.

(here I want to add though that discourse and criticism does not always equal negativity and being critical of a relationship/character does not always equal vilifying them. And neither equal hate most of the time. I think you went a bit too far there.)

That being said, there is a problem and that problem is people who claim what does and what does not constitute a fan. Being an OUAT fan, a CS shipper or a Hook stan is not a freaking bachelor’s degree and there are no exams you need to take to qualify. A blog can post 100% CS 100% of the time and love every single interaction Hook and Emma have had. Another blog can post 20% CS, 25% HQ, 10% Red Swan and 45% other fandom stuff and prefer CS’s dynamic is S6 to their dynamic before that. If both those blogs consider themselves CS fans - they are both CS fans. They don’t need to prove their “faithfullness” to CS to me or you or anyone else. That’s just not how shipping does or should work.

I agree with some of your ask - I do understand why some fans don’t want to see Emma criticism or a dissection of the CS relationship - that’s their prerogative. However, your “vilifying” and s7 comments completely lost me because they resemble exactly one of those “you are not a fan anymore” statements that I don’t know if I should rage at or just roll my eyes at this point. Unless someone says they no longer like CS there is no reason for you to assume they no longer like CS or accuse them of that. Matter of fact, there is no reason to assume anything or accuse anyone of anything. You don’t like what they post - don’t follow.

I do not like or support this unnecessary tension between people with different preferences. I’m the kind of person who considered herself a Spuffy shipper even though I hated Buffy a whole lot of the time and thought they were both monstrously abusive to each other in S6. I made Spuffy videos but I also made Bangel videos. Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t even ship Bangel. Yet I spent hours and hours years ago watching and editing footage of them kissing and fucking to romantic songs. Why? Cuz I felt like it. Cuz I liked making videos. Cuz fandom should be a safe place that encourages creativity and discourse in every direction and doesn’t censor anything that isn’t harmful to people. The more we talk and create - the more we have to choose from. And the choice is yours.

And last just for the hell of it - I’m a person who considers herself a hardcore CS shipper, the Neverland Renaissance gives me life, Killian Jones deserves all the love in the world, I loved S7, I love Wish Hook and Rogers just as much as I love the first Killian Jones we met, I understand why Emma did all the wrong and questionable things she did in S5, I understand why Killian hates himself for all the wrong and questionable things he did in S5, I support multi-shipping, I support monogamous shipping, I love Emma Swan more than I have ever loved a female character, I read Killian whump without an ounce of guilt and love the everloving fuck out of it, I think the whole “Killian killed her granddad” plot was unnecessary and contrived and horrible, I think the speech Emma gave Killian when she found out was perfect, I think her giving him back the ring was too much, I think we should’ve had Henry call Killian dad, I think Snow was a bad mom to Emma 80% of the time, I would’ve loved to see Detective Rogers with Tiana or Regina, I cried when Rumple gaveRoger’s his heart, I think Emma is often not attentive enough to Killian’s feelings, I think her “he has one hand” comment was horrific, I think Killian should’ve learnt to stop keeping secrets after the Zelena debacle, I think Emma should have learnt that Killian would never leave her by S6, I think S5 is what proved how much Emma Swan loves Killian Jones, I think Killian deserved to have Nemo and Smee and his brother at their wedding, Emma saying “I will find you, Killian. I will always find you.” is probably the greatest moment of my shipping existence, I like Alice better than Hope for a CS daughter, I love seeing posts, fanfic and fanart on my dashboard that express an array of opinions because that is part of shipping for me, I completely understand and respect people who prefer to keep their shipping completely “clean” and positive. 

I think we should stop telling people how to love things and spend that time finding the right people to surround ourselves with and telling them how much we love talking to them, watching their videos, reading their metas and fanfics and being part of this multifaceted fandom.

[thelittlestkitsune]

Ad-Listed. [smut]

A;N: So, hello! This is kind of different for me, I’m well aware of that, but I had the idea in my head and I couldn’t let it go! This is an AU as Stiles is not in BH, he’s in his senior year of college! Please let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy xo Lau

Pairing: StilesxReader

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Explicit Content.

Word count: .10, 810

Listen to me.      part two. 

One week to Kirstie’s wedding.  

You groaned as you slid into the pleather booth at the local diner, glancing at your phone. Ten till two and he said he’d be here at two. Guess I better get a coffee then. You flagged the waitress, ordering a latte as you sat and scrolled through your phone, looking at the date your bridesmaid dress was supposed to arrive. Why did you leave getting your dress until so late, you always leave everything until it’s so late. You sighed to yourself as the waitress brought your coffee, a wide grin on her face. You smiled back as you looked out the window, watching as Mike walked past the window.

 He gave you a small wave as he stalked by, his long legs reaching the door of the diner before you could even blink. He leant over you, kissing your cheek before sliding into the booth opposite you. “Hey Gwen!” His voice was chipper, a light reflecting in his grey eyes. “Hey Mike, what’s up? I thought we weren’t supposed to be meeting till tonight? Is everything okay?” You asked, your hands wrapping around the cup in front of you as he flagged the waitress. “Funny you should ask that, cause everything’s great actually-” He paused, turning to the pretty brunette. “Hey love, can I have a large iced coffee please?” She shook her head as you looked out the window “Sorry but we only have hot coffee here.” She shrugged apologetically. “Ah that’s okay then! Can I have a slice of that cheesecake and a large cappuccino please?” He asked, a wink following suit. “Sure, be with you in minute.” He grinned as he returned back to you. What is it with this guy?

You asked yourself that every time you met with him, sure he made you laugh, but there was something about him that put you on edge. You brushed away the feeling as he turned to you, his eyes still sparkling. “Anyway, what were we talking about?” He continued as you sipped on your coffee. “Everything’s gr-” He cut you off as he reached across the table, his hands finding yours. “There’s no really easy way to say this, but-” He fumbled for a moment, his brows knitting above his eyes. “- I really don’t want to jinx it but there’s this girl.” Your heart leapt in your chest as panic flooded your system. Please don’t confess your love to me, please no, I don’t think I can handle that. You swallowed nervously as he stuttered. “And I think that she might be the one, so i’m going to ask her to marry me.” You felt bile rise in your throat, your heart hammering in your chest. You tapped your fingers nervously. “So I wanted to ask you-” You cut him off, the words spilling from your mouth as you shook your head. “No. I don-” He pulled back, reaching into his pocket as you felt your head spin. Is he deaf? I said no? “Is this ring okay?” He asked, showing the princess cut diamond nestled in the padding of the box.  

Shit, that’s a fancy ring. You breathed in, the air tasting thick as it swirled in your lungs. “Do you think she’ll like it?” He asked as you looked at him with a confused look on your face. “It’s a beautiful ring but-” You exhaled shakily, your eyes avoiding his as you reached for the coffee on the table. “I can’t wait to ask her, I’m going to do it in front of the Lincoln memorial tomorrow.” He gushed as you wracked your brain for something to say. “Wait, I think we’re getting our wires crossed. Who’s the ring for?” He looked taken aback as he snapped the box shut. “It’s for-” He paused, looking out the window as he drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s for this girl I’ve been seeing. We’ve not been seeing each other for very long, but she makes me laugh and I saw the ring and I thought she’d love it.” You looked at him in confusion, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of your mug. “I’m sure she does, but if you’ve not been seeing her for very long then shouldn’t you wait?” You questioned as your heart slammed against your rib cage. “She seems super into me and I think I’m in it for the long haul if she is. Which is why I’m here today-” You interrupted him before he could go any further. “I don’t think I’m in it for the long haul Mike, like you’re a great guy but I don’t see myself with you.” You rushed the words, refusing to look at him as you did so, your fingers tightening more as you white knuckled.  

“Well as flattered as I am Gwen, the ring isn’t for you.” He deadpanned, his eyes serious as you looked at him finally. “I came here to break it off with you.” He admitted as you felt the air get sucked from your lungs. Any panic that had been in your system evaporated as anger flooded your body. “So the ring is for some other girl? Another girl you’ve been seeing?!” You could feel yourself getting hysterical, your voice raising in the small diner. He nodded as he took a sip of his drink, wincing as he burnt his tongue, recoiling against the back of his seat. “Yeah, I thought you were seeing other guys, we were never exclusive.” He rolled his eyes as he looked over you. “Yeah, we talked about it at length obviously. I never said we were exclusive but you never said we weren’t.” You responded, your words like venom as they left your mouth. “I mean it’s not like I don’t like you Gwen, but I knew there were other girls out there. I was just playing the field.” He tried to justify his actions as you sat there, your head almost ready to explode with anger.

“Well it’s nice to finally know this Mike. Here’s something you should know, you’re an ass. You at least had the decency to not cheat on her, but I hope she knows that you were sleeping with the both of us. Doing us both a disservice.” You smiled as you stood up. “But  you know what? I’m glad you found her and I wish you both the best. Saves me the grief of breaking up with you after the wedding.” He rolled his eyes, his lips curled up in a smile. “I wasn’t even going to turn up, I never wanted to go to the stupid wedding.” You seethed as you grabbed your bag, chucking it over your shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t. Have a nice life. Hopefully this girl can look past the fact that you’re a one pump chump that couldn’t get me to orgasm even if I gave you a manual on how to do it.” You spat, grabbing the last of your drink as half the diner turned to look at your outburst. “Fuck you Gwen.” He stammered, his face flushed red. “No Mike. Fuck you.” You drank the last of your drink before heading for the door, pushing it open as you flipped Mike the finger. Wanker.  

3 days till Kirstie’s wedding.

You flopped down onto the bed, cursing as your headphones ripped out your ears. “Fuck, just gimme a minute, I’m crushing myself.” You spoke, moving so you were supported in the middle of your bed. “Nope, not good enough. Fuck your comfort bitch!” You heard your best friend swear as you put your headphone back in your ear. “Screw you asshole. Now are you going to stop being rude and fucking help me?” You sighed, rubbing your fingers over your temples. “Chill out, god damn woman, you’re stressing out about nothing!” She laughed as you felt your cheeks get hot. “I’m not stressing about nothing! I’m stressing about the fact that I’m a bridesmaid at my sister’s wedding in 3 days and I don’t even have a date.” You sighed, your eyes closing as you took a shaky breath. “Why don’t you just go stag? You know it’s not a societal thing that you have to have a date you know?” You shook your head, knowing she couldn’t see you. “You don’t understand my family Nik, my grandma is going to be so far up my ass about not having a man at my age. She wants grandkids even though she already has like 4. She’s ridiculous and old fashioned and if I turn up stag then she’s just going to harp at me that I’ll die alone.” You tried to play it off but the reality of that was cripplingly realistic. “You’re not going to die alone, you’re the one who doesn’t want to date so you’re not even on your own side right now G.” You grunted in agreement. “It���s not like there’s much option here. Washington is good if you like brainy guys that look like they ran into a wall. Not so great if you want a good looking guy that also has a brain.” You heard Nikki chuckle down the line. “Beauty over brains huh? You’re so shallow!” You rolled your eyes as you cursed her out.  

“Oh yeah cause you’re going to go for Hawking over Hardy. Obviously.” you collapsed into a fit of giggles as you returned back to your dilemma. “Nikki, what the fuck am I going to do?” She hummed for a moment before almost shouting. “TINDER” Your heart almost plummeted into your stomach as she suggested it. “Oh yeah good one, just put my bio as just looking for a wedding escort.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm as she sighed. “You’re so picky. Maybe you should just get a hooker.” You laughed at the thought, genuinely mulling it over for a moment too long. Nikki pulled you from your thoughts of half-naked Adonis types as she thought aloud. “I wonder if people did that girlfriend experience thing?” She trailed off as you interjected. “I think my granddad would have an actual heart attack if I turned up with a girl.” You laughed, imagining the shock on his face. “- No like legit, what if there were people that you could pay to go on a date with you?” She continued, her tone questioning. “You mean like a hooker?” You asked, sitting up on your bed as you pulled your laptop up from its resting place on the floor. “I mean, in a sense, like you’re not hiring them to fuck, it’s sort of a last-minute option? You know, like the experience of a boyfriend without having to court a guy” She chuckled as she muttered under her breath. “You sound like my grandma when you say court a guy, but doesn’t this seem super skeez? Like you could literally be paying anybody to be your date.” You questioned, your fingers flying over the keys of your keyboard as you typed. Boyfriend experience, Washington dc.  

Your eyes scanned through the pages as you clicked through, your heart in your stomach. “It’s prostitution Nikki!” You exclaimed after you had seen enough to put you off the idea. “Well then maybe don’t search for the boyfriend experience then asshat. Honestly, you’re about as dumb as a pile of bricks. Why don’t you try craigslist?” Nikki suggested as you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they would get lodged in the back of your head forever. “Yeah, sure cause getting murdered at a wedding was the way I want to die. Plus it’s just full of creeps. But fine, I’ll have a look.” You typed in the search bar, 133 entries popped up most of which didn’t contain an attached picture. “Nikki, what have you got me into, most of these people are looking for casual freaky sex usually something illegal looking. This is sleazy, what if they try to offer me drugs?” You laughed as she snorted on the other end of the line. “If they offer you drugs take them they are expensive, not like you need the money though!” She ended. “Fine, but you know if I die this is going to weigh on your conscience forever-” You started before collapsing into a fit of giggles. “-shame you don’t have one” Nikki agreed wholeheartedly. “You know it, I’m only coming to the funeral if you have nachos but I’ll settle for truffle mac and cheese.” You sighed, knowing that she always made you laugh when you needed it most. “You’re such a bitch, you aren’t getting more than ice cream and jelly” The line went silent as you heard her voice boom suddenly. “Deal.”  

You concentrated on the screen for a moment, one ad in particular catching your eye. “Nik, do you think this sounds murderous or pervy or genuinely quite sweet.” You paused as you enlarged the ad. “It says he’s a college student across town, he just needs to make some extra cash for classes and books-” Nikki cut you off before you could finish. “He sounds like a stripper. He sounds perfect. He’s a stripper that supplies his own pole.” You burst into laughter, snorts coming from your mouth as you sucked in a giant breath of air. “I hate you so much for doing this to me. I refuse to talk to you right now, so I’m going to hang up on you and I’ll message you about the emails. I can’t take you seriously right now and I can’t believe you’ve dragged me into this.” You heard a commotion on the other end as Nikki got really close to the receiver. “Kicking and screaming bitch, kicking and screaming.” She gave you no time to respond before kicking you off the call leaving you to stare at the screen blankly. You sighed as you clicked contact ad lister, your heart hammering in your chest as you sent an email. I hope he isn’t a murderer.  

Two days to the wedding.  

You groaned as you slid into the pleather booth at the local diner, glancing at your phone. Ten to twelve and he said he’d be here around twelve ish. Guess I better get a coffee then. You flagged the waitress, ordering a latte as you sat and scrolled through your phone, your leg jittering under the table. The last time I was here for a date type thing it didn’t end too well, maybe I should of told him to meet me somewhere else? You swallowed your nerves as the waitress smiled, watching as several men passed by the window. You didn’t dare look as the bell jangled above the entry to the diner, deep voices filling the space around you. Did he bring a friend? Am I going to die? You buried your head in your phone, texting Nikki as you waited for Stiles to arrive. Stiles is such a weird name. You thought to yourself as the bell jangled again. This time though you braved turning around, your eyes following the noise as you saw the middle aged balding man in the doorway. He looked around the room, his eyes falling on you as he gave you a smile. Stiles said he was a college student, but there was nothing to say that he couldn’t be a mature student. You turned back to look at the man in the doorway, grateful in the fact that he had disappeared. You turned to the waitress as she gave you a smile, grabbing your latte in her hands as she made her way over to you.

“Are you waiting for someone love? Hopefully not that guy you were with the other day.” She spoke softly, her eyes darting out the window as she placed the coffee on the table in front of you. “Yeah, I’m meeting a blind date, but I don’t know what he looks like and I’m just praying that I’m not meeting Shrek.” You laughed nervously, your fingers drumming on the table in front of you. “Well I’m here all day, if your date turns up and is a complete creep then I can sneak you out the back through the staff entrance.” She winked as she stood back up, smoothing over her apron. “Just ask for an iced coffee, I’ll know what you need!” She finished with a smile as she turned tail and headed back towards the service hatch. You smiled to yourself as you pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Nikki, telling her that you were feeling a little bit safer at least. The door went again as you whipped your head around, almost smashing your face into the backrest of your seat. Your eyes fell on an elderly couple, their hands entangled as they looked on at you in horror, their feet shuffling on the vinyl flooring as they squeaked off away from your judgemental stare. You whipped back around, wanting nothing more than the ground to swallow you whole and take you to hell where you belonged.  

You rested your arms on the table, your head nestled in the crook of your arm, your cheeks flushing red. Just let me die of embarrassment, they probably think I’m possessed. You sighed as you lifted your head, your peripherals catching a glimpse of flannel and dark hair as you returned upwards. Looks kind of young? You thought to yourself as the dark-haired guy walked past your booth. Everything in you wanted to say his name, on the off chance it was Stiles but you kept your mouth shut. Ultimately you were glad you did as he walked to the only other girl sat in the diner, her laptop obscuring her face. He hovered by her table for a moment before finally settling into the booth opposite her. You watched him for a second, hoping he was Stiles just in the wrong booth but when she closed her laptop screen she gave him a smile and you felt your heart drop. Guess it’s back to looking out the window I guess. You took a sip of your coffee, swirling the liquid over your tongue as you sighed. You glanced nervously at the clock on the wall as you saw the flannel clad boy stand from the booth. “Sorry I bothered you, I’m looking for someone else.” He spoke as you heard his voice resonate through the small diner.  

Maybe it was him after all. He paced away from the booth the girl inside of it wishing him luck as he scanned the diner. It took him a while before his eyes fell on you, your cheeks flushing red as you finally took a proper look at his face. He was not what you were expecting at all. Tall, well-built but a boyish charm in his face. You watched as he dug in his pockets, long fingers wrapping around his phone as he text. Your phone buzzed on the table, the vibration almost deafening. His eyes found your phone, a smile forming on his mole speckled face. He reached your booth quickly, his long legs crossing the diner. “You must be Gwen.” He smiled, as you nodded, your heart in your throat. “You must be Stiles” You replied as he sat down in the booth, his knees knocking against your own as he jittered his legs. “That would be me, sorry if I’m a bit weird right now, I stupidly decided that I needed to drink an espresso on the way here cause I was trashed from late night studying, but now the caffeine that has replaced my blood stream is making me all weird.” He gave you a half smile, one corner of his lips staying static as his eyes narrowed. “I feel you there about the late night studying, I once decided to make my morning coffee with red bull instead of water and I swear to fucking god I could taste music.” You laughed, lifting your mug to your lips, taking another sip of the liquid. “Let me know what trap music tastes like, I can imagine it tastes like an amalgamation of cocaine and tequila with gummy bears.” He cracked a joke, your nerves dissipating in his easy company.  

“So Stiles, what brings you to Washington? You said you’re a college student and nobody really goes in state here.” He reached for the back of his neck, his fingers trailing over the skin and hair there as you watched him mesmerised. “I’m in the FBI programme, senior year. I got family in law enforcement and I wanted to be like my pops.” He admitted, a flush flooding his pale cheeks. Hot and smart. “What about you?” He asked as the waitress came over. You half expected him to ignore you as you spoke now that she was here but he was rapt as you told him about your course. “I study law, it’s nothing spectacular. I want to go further I’m a senior and hopefully I can pass this year and get my masters by like 23.” He looked at you in awe, his caramel brown eyes wide. “You’re hella smart, reminds me of a girl I used to know back home. She was smart too, too smart for her own good.” He smirked, giving you a small wink. Something within you twinged at the innocent gesture as he turned to the waitress, ordering a coffee for himself. “Brains over beauty I guess!” You chuckled, downing the last of your latte before settling it back down. “Seems like both to me” He admitted, a smile almost constantly etched onto his face.

“Cheeky aren’t you?” You joked as he looked panicked all of a sudden. “Honestly? This is my first time doing something like this so I don’t know what’s expected of me and I almost didn’t come because-” His words were speeding up as he started to hyperventilate, his eyes darting around the room. “-Stiles, calm down. I don’t know either, I don’t know how this works so how about we just work it out together?” You reached for his hands, your smaller ones cradling one of his as his breathing slowed. “Thanks, I don’t know why I was so nervous, you seem really nice already.” He admitted, looking up at you through thick lashes. “You seem nice too Stiles, now how about you tell me how you got into this mess.”

“I have my best friend to blame for this, I rang him up a couple of days ago, saying that I was super strapped for cash and I couldn’t ask my dad for much more money-” You nodded, your fingers lacing together underneath your chin. “- and he said to me about how he made a bit of extra cash in his first year. You know, dating people for money. I told him that I didn’t think that anybody here would go for something like this, or someone like me but he basically told me I’d be stupid not to at least go for it. I thought it sounded a bit like a hooker and I’m no hooker. ” He shrugged, looking down at his coffee as the waitress placed it in front of him. “Can I get you anything love?” She asked as you pulled your attention away from him, looking in her eyes with a smile on your face. “Just another latte, and maybe a slice of that cake?” You nodded as she gave you a wink before returning to her station. “Why did you think no one would go for you? Is that why you didn’t put a picture up? Plus, I said that it sounded like a hooker but it’s a legit thing people do!” He nodded, shy all of a sudden. “Not only that but I haven’t really been in any photos for a long time” He chuckled nervously, lifting the mug to his lips. “Shame, you’re about to be in a lot of them at the wedding.” You laughed as he almost did a spit take, his caramel eyes blown wide in panic. “Stiles! Calm down! I’m a bridesmaid, I have to be in the photos and so does my date!” He calmed slightly as you talked. Finally, he swallowed the coffee he’d been holding in his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a deep breath. “Sorry about that! You know when your brain short circuits and it doesn’t process information correctly? My brain automatically thought it was our wedding.”  

His laugh echoed through the small space between you, his warmth and smile feeling like sunshine on your skin, even though the skies outside were rainy and grey. “That’d be a story wouldn’t it? We knew each other for two days before we decided to get married! Talk about a Disney romance! All I need is for you to break out into song!” You laughed, your smile stretching from ear to ear. He ducked his head, his fingers running over his neck again as you both laughed. “That’d be a sight, I’m tone deaf, it’s like a strangled cat when I sing sometimes! However, dancing-” He admitted, his smile mirroring yours. “-dancing is something I can do” You shook your head as he danced in the middle of the diner. “You’ll dance with me at the wedding then won’t you?” He stopped, his laugh coming in bursts as he stifled a laugh “Never in a million years. I refuse to share my golden dance moves with anyone!” You shrugged your shoulders as you thanked the waitress. “You never know Stiles! Anything could happen!” He shrugged in response, his head cocking to the side as he lifted the mug again. “So how did a girl like you find the ad? And why in the fresh fuck did you need the ad in the first place?” He asked as you readied yourself. “Stiles, are you comfortable? Cause this is a long story.” You warned as he shifted in his seat, leaning back against the backrest, his long legs still brushing against yours. “I’m ready, lay it on me.”  

Hours passed as you sat in the diner, eventually grabbing a meal together as you chatted, figuring out the perfect cover story as to how you two met. “A museum? Really? I was checking out the artwork and instead found you?” He laughed as he pushed his plate aside, the curly fries on it long gone cold from the flow of conversation. “What! I think it’s cute!” You defended your choice as you spooned ice cream into your mouth. “It is cute! If this were a movie! But you need this to be believable right?!” You nodded, agreeing with what he was saying but still holding onto the idea in case of an emergency. “We’ll figure it out, you have my number right?” Stiles asked as you nodded, your mouth still full of ice cream. “It’s getting late and I have some coursework to be doing so I should be heading back across town” He gathered his things as he beckoned the waitress over to pay for his coffee’s and the food he had bought. “Stiles let me, it’s the least I can do you know?” You asked as he shook his head. “My mom brought me up to be a gentleman, I’ll get it this time” He smiled as you sat back reaching into your bag to get your purse. “Fine but I’m paying for your cab fare. I know you didn’t drive here!” You winked, handing him the crumpled notes as he blushed. “Thanks Gwen!” he smiled, his eyes twinkling in the dimming light.  

“No need to thank me, you’re doing me a favour by going to the wedding with me. Speaking of, you need to pick your suit up from De Louice on Fessenden St tomorrow. It’s important! You can’t be showing up in a flannel!” You winked as he dropped his head. “How much should I take with me?” He asked in a small voice. “You don’t have to pay for it, it’s already paid for!” You smiled as he looked up, something in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Thanks again Gwen.” He leaned over, placing a kiss on your cheek as you felt shivers run down your spine. “Thank you Stiles and I’ll see you on Saturday!” He nodded, running his fingers through his hair as he left the diner. I’m actually kind of excited for the wedding now.  

The day of Kirsties Wedding.  

Your stomach was in knots as you stared at your phone screen.  

Gwen: So you got the plan right? Meet at the Watergate’s hotel bar at half past two, ceremony is supposed to start at half past three. Then the reception!  

Stiles: Sure thing chicken wing, you got it! See you at half past two. I’ll be the one in the suit.  

Gwen: It’s a wedding Stiles, all the guys will be in a suit.  

Stiles: Well I’ll be the dork in a suit.  

Gwen: I’ll see you at half past two Stiles xx

You glanced in the top corner of your screen, watching as the clock ticked over to 2:45. What if he changed his mind and decided not to come. You pushed the thought out of your mind as you took a swig of your drink, the alcohol calming your raging nerves as your brother came through the door of the bar. He rushed over to you, his face red as he loosened off his tie. “Gwen, we need you to start getting everything ready, Kirstie needs you up with her, she’s really nervous. You’re the head bridesmaid, you’re supposed to be by her side.” You sighed as you looked around the room, slightly panicked that you still had heard nothing from her. “Can you tell her I’ll be with her soon? I need to make sure my date finds the place okay?” You told your brother as he grimaced. “Okay, it’s your funeral if she kills you.” He warned with a chuckle, weaving through the crowded room. You glanced at your phone, your lips curled in a frown as you gripped your glass. 5 more minutes and then I’m going to have to go upstairs.  

Gwen: Stiles, where are you?  

Your fingers gripped onto your phone as if it was a life line, your drink emptying as you watched the hands on the clock tick down. Literally just a text is all I need. Your stomach somersaulted as you threw your head back, finally standing from the seat you’d been in at the bar.  

Gwen: You’re really late and I can’t wait any longer, I’ll be in the main atrium for 5 minutes, after that it’s too late.  

You walked through the crowded bar, lifting your dress as you weaved between wedding goers. The air was cloying but as soon as you stood in the atrium it was like a breath of fresh air. Your fingers clung to your dress, your clutch hanging loosely from your shoulders as you walked to the main atrium the click of your heels echoing in the large room. Come on Stiles where are you? You locked and unlocked your phone, your eyes scanning the room as you leant against a pillar your breath coming in short bursts as you worried about your sister. Chewing your lips, you text Stiles for what felt like the millionth time, your fingers trembling as you hit send.  

Gwen: Stiles, you’ve got 2 minutes or I have to go upstairs, if I’m not in the atrium when you get here then you don’t need to stay.  

You sighed as you pressed send, quickly leaving your messages as you flicked to your sisters chat. 15 unread messages. You quickly read the messages your heart plummeting at your sisters texts.  

Kirstie: Gwennie, where are you? I need you up here.  

Kirstie: Please Gwennie!  

You sighed, your head hitting back against the marbled pillar, pain radiating through your head. Great, at least in the photo’s I’ll look as bad as I feel. You closed your eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath. Looks like Stiles is out of time. You pushed away from the pillar, turning to head towards the elevator, mentally preparing yourself for the wrath of your sister when you heard footsteps running towards you. “Gwen!” You heard Stiles shout as you whipped your head around a small smile on your lips. “I thought you weren’t going to come!” You almost snapped, your tone slightly more biting than you were going for. He grimaced, his hands carding through his hair. “Roscoe broke down and I had to get a cab, then I realised that I put in the wrong place-” He babbled, a downcast look in his doe eyes. “Stiles it’s fine, you just about made it on time, no need to have a full-on breakdown! Plus, who the fuck is Roscoe?” You asked, your brows knitted over your eyes as he grinned. “Roscoe is my Jeep!” You rolled your eyes as you walked off, him following suit. “You named your jeep?” You joked as he gave you a surprised look. “Well if he turns into a transformer I at least want to make sure we’re on a first name basis.” You laughed as you jabbed the button for the elevator, climbing inside before turning to Stiles once again. “Stiles, don’t be daft, you know most cars are girls.” You winked as the doors closed, leading you up to the main balcony.  

“Now where do we line up again?” Stiles turned to you after the pictures, his tie slightly crooked as you led him down multiple hallways. “We line up at the door, you don’t get stage fright do you Stiles? You know we’re second down after my brother and his wife.” Stiles looked panicked as he looked at you, his lips set in a hard line. “Nope, totally calm and collected, I sure am co-ordinated and good at walking in a straight line.” He swallowed thickly as he nodded, his brown hair flopping over his forehead. “That’s a bald-faced lie isn’t it Stiles?” You gave him a knowing look as he grinned back at you, his smile faltering as he tripped, grabbing onto you as you both toppled to the floor. “Yeah, I’m vertically challenged and I like to inspect floors on almost a minutely basis.” He nodded, as you collapsed into a fit of giggles. “I can see that, maybe we should get out the way of people and sort ourselves before we have to do the walk for real.” You laughed as Stiles stood, his hand outstretching towards you. You took it gratefully, smoothing over your dress as Stiles led you to the edge of the hallway, his back pressed against the wall. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” You asked Stiles as you watched his eyes close, his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, just a little bit, i’m not usually good with large groups of people, especially people I don’t know.” He sounded strained, his voice cracking as he opened his eyes, looking at you as he gave you a half smile. “But, I’ll be okay. We going to do this thing?” He chuckled, pushing away from the wall as he reached his hand out for you to take. “Yeah, do I look okay?” You nervously pushed your hair behind your ears as he looked over you, his eyes trailing over every inch of your skin. “You look beautiful, now let’s go walk down that aisle.”  

The wedding flashed by in the blink of an eye as you took Stiles’ hand, tears streaming down your face as your sister married the love of her life, Stiles’ fingers intertwined with yours as you walked back down the aisle, leaving the ceremony behind. “So, what now?” Stiles asked as you milled towards the reception, the crowds of people moving around you. “We go to the reception and the true fun begins.” You winked, giving him a small smile. “Is this where I die?” His brows quirked, his eyes searching your face for answers. “This is the true torture, we weren’t planning on sacrificing you to the pagan gods until later.” He faked a sigh of relief, his hand wiping over his forehead. After all the nerves that had been running through your system, you finally felt like you could relax, even though you knew that the worst was only yet to come. You held your breath as you walked into the hall, your eyes falling over every decoration as lights sparkled in your peripherals. “Whoa, this is nice.” Stiles breathed as you gave him a small smile. “Yeah, it is. Kirstie’s been planning her wedding since she was a little girl, so what you’re seeing right now? This is her dream.” You looked around the room, waving at family members as they gave you small nods. “I’ve never walked in someone’s dream before. Someone’s walked in my mind before but that’s completely different-” He tailed off, his lips pressing shut as he walked with you to your table. “Someone walked in your mind?” You asked him questioningly, your fingers coming unlaced as you sat in the chair, his body filling the space next to you. “It felt like that at least.” He chuckled, his hands running over his neck, a trait you had learnt was his nervous tick.  

“What a strange thing to say young man” You heard your grandma say as she walked to the table. Her brunette hair was wound tight against her scalp, her tiny frame almost going unnoticed in the throng of people. “Stiles, meet Margaret, my grandmother. She has the hearing of a bat.” You smiled as you grandma walked to the table, her arms outstretched as she laced them around your neck. “Gwennie, you look absolutely heart breaking. You’re not so little anymore are you?” She cooed as you shot a smile at Stiles. He supressed a laugh as your grandma pulled away. “You’re growing up so fast. Soon it’ll be your wedding, perhaps to this fine young gentleman?” She nodded towards Stiles as you supressed a laugh as he looked panic stricken. “Grandma, this is Stiles-” Your grandma had already walked around to where he sat, her arms linking around his shoulders like she had just done to you. Stiles froze, his cheeks flushing almost neon pink as he relaxed after a moment. “So, you’re my Gwennies boyfriend?” Stiles shot you a look as you panicked, your throat closing up as you shrugged your shoulders. “I am indeed, lovely to meet you Mrs-” He struggled to think of your last name, your eyes wide as his eyes darted towards you. “No need to be so formal, call me Margaret or Margie.” She smiled, her weathered face lighting up as she straightened off striding towards her seat at your table. “So Gwennie, tell me more about Stiles”  

A few hours went by as you sat and talked with Stiles, your grandma shooting questions at you from right and left. Stiles took all the questions he could, grinning and being friendly all night, which is more than what you could’ve asked of him. “Stiles if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave to the restroom and leave you in my grandma’s very capable hands.” You announced as you stood from your seat, your head spinning after one too many glasses of wine. “Take your time, me and Margie have it covered here.” He winked, your grandma smiling at you as you walked across the dance floor. Well, this is going far better than I would have expected. Sounds strange but it feels like I’ve known Stiles for far longer than just a few days. You walked from the main hall, heading to the bathroom as you thought about the man you’d left at the table. He looks really good in a suit, maybe he’d also look good without the suit. You suppressed a smile as you pushed on the door to the ladies, giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror. Over the course of the night, your lipstick had smudged some, but other than that you still looked very much the same, your cheeks maybe a tad darker than before but you knew why. Reaching into your clutch, you dug for your lipstick, leaning closer to the mirror as you touched up the lines, cleaning the outsides with the tip of your finger.  

“You getting all dolled up for your date?” You heard your sister say, her head peeking around the corner as she walked in, her long dress trailing along the floor. You smiled at her as you wrapped your arms around her, your first hug since she tied the knot. “I’m not doing it for him, I’m doing it for me.” You grinned, returning to the mirror as you fixed a knot in your long hair. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were doing it for him. If I wasn’t a married woman-” She trailed off, a giggle escaping her lips. “Kirstie! You can’t say that! You’ve been married a grand total of about 3 hours now!” You shook your head as she shrugged. “I can appreciate a good looking guy can’t I?!” She wandered next to you, fixing her hair as she turned to you. “You two look good together, the photographer showed me some of the stills and you two look so happy.” You blushed, hiding your smile as she continued. “You look like me and David when we were early days. So unsure of things but happy, I can see it in your face and the way he looks at you. You two are in it for the long haul.” Yeah, that could be so, but we’d have to be dating first, and maybe actually know each other for more than a grand total of 2 minutes. You thought to yourself as she smiled at you. “I’m so happy for you Gwennie, you deserve a guy like him.” She finished as she gave herself once last look over, before hugging you goodbye. “You need to get him onto the dance floor, maybe give him a rest from Grandma.” You laughed as she left the bathroom, the door swinging shut as you were left to your own devices.  

Maybe it could be more than just this? You sighed to yourself as you smoothed over your dress, walking from the bathroom as you returned into the main hall. “Gwennie! Glad you could join us again! Stiles was just telling me about his father, he’s a sheriff!” Your grandma exclaimed as you sat back at your seat. “-And Margaret was just telling me that Gwen isn’t your full name!” Stiles turned to you, his lips pressed firmly in a line, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Grandma, you know I hate it when you call me that!” You sighed, watching as she shrugged. “Gwendolyn, it’s your name, a lot can be told about a name!” She spoke, your name making the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. “Please grandma, just call me Gwen?” You pleaded as she nodded her head. “Okay Gwennie, it’s your choice. I’m going to go dance with the bride, give you two love birds some alone time.” She smiled as she walked from the table, her curls bouncing as she found your sister. Stiles stared into the crowd as you were finally left alone for what felt like the first time in days. “So Gwendolyn?” He turned to you, his smile finally breaking as he let out a shaky laugh. “I’m guessing your going to hit me with all the lord of the rings esque jokes you got, or maybe ask how king arthur and merlin are doing? Just like everyone else?” You sighed, your hand propping your head up as you looked at him. “Nope, I was just going to say it’s a really pretty name. Suits you, but if you prefer being called Gwen then Gwen it is. Reminds me of Gwen Stacy.” He smiled as he looked at you, his eyes softening as his mole speckled skin shone in the light.  

“Thanks Stiles, usually people just make fun of my name.” You admitted, pushing your hair behind your ear as it fell in front of your eyes. “I feel you there, obviously Stiles isn’t my given name. It’s a family nickname because no one can pronounce my real name. Hell, until I was older even I couldn’t pronounce it.” You looked at him in confusion as he twiddled his thumbs, clearly mulling something over. “I used to say my name was Mischief, because it was as close as I could get. After a while I just kind of became Stiles and everyone’s called me it ever since.” You looked at him as he smiled. “So what is it? Or would you rather not say? I understand if you want to keep it a secret, I mean I’m pretty much a stranger.” You fumbled over your words, desperately wanting to know more about the man sat in front of you. “Mieczysław” He whispered, almost too low for you to hear over the din of the other guests. “What?” You shook your head leaning closer to him, your face only inches from his as he repeated it. “Mieczysław. Some kids when I was little used to call me my coleslaw, cause they didn’t know how to say it either.” He shrugged, a sad look in his eyes. Such a strange name, for such a strange guy. “I like it, Mieczysław.” You repeated, your tongue rolling over his name, the word sticking in your mind. “I like it more now, Gwendolyn.”

Hours passed as you danced with Stiles, his hands on your lower back as you swayed to slow songs, his arms waving in the air as they played heavier songs, the crowd of wedding goers packing onto the dance floor as the night progressed. Panting out of breath you pulled Stiles from the throng of people. “How about a drink?” You breathed, your hair clinging to your back. “I don’t think so Gwen, it’s pretty late and if I drink anymore then I may not make it home. As it is I’m going to have to get a cab and it’s late.” He pouted, looking at the time on his watch. “You don’t have to go?” You spoke, his brows quirking as he looked at you in confusion. “I live on the other side of town and I definitely don’t have enough money to stay at the hotel, I don’t think they even have anyone on the front desk at this time.” He fumbled over his words, his fingers adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “You can stay with me?” You suggested, your eyes searching for any sign that he didn’t want to. “You’re staying here?” He asked, looking towards the hallway. “Yeah, my dad got the bridal party rooms, it’s a suite so there is more than enough room for the both of us?” You spoke as he nodded. “Sure, I’ll stay with you, saves me getting a cab this late. They over charge.” He sighed, his hand pressing against your lower back once more. It didn’t feel the same as before, this time his hands were heavy, spreading warmth through your skin. “Well how about we call it a night anyway. It’s starting to get too much down here and I don’t know about you but I’m dying to eat some real food.” You nodded towards the buffet, barely touched as your stomach grumbled. “I never understood people’s love of fancy food, give me a burger over caviar any day.” He chuckled as you grabbed two flutes of champagne. “So one more drink and then we’ll order room service?” You asked as he nodded. “Yeah, room service sounds great.”  

———————————————————————————————————–

His lips were on yours before you had even hit the elevator, his hands pressing against your waist. “I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you, but I didn’t know-” He started to speak, his lips moving against yours. “Stiles, do you ever shut up?” You sighed as he pushed you back against the cool marble of the walls, the material of your dress shifting under the grip of his fingers. “Never.” He sighed as his lips founds yours, tongues rolling over lips as you melted against him, his body pressed against yours as you reached for the elevator button. His teeth caught the skin of your lips, pulling slightly as his hands slid down your body, long fingers leaving a trail of electric in your skin as you sighed, a moan trapped in your throat. “Stiles-” You breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as he kissed from your mouth, his lips trailing across the line of your jaw. Your fingers ensnared themselves in the tendrils of his hair, your nails raking across pale skin as you bucked towards him. You barely heard the click of the elevator as his lips moved across your neck, his tongue rolling over the skin as you pushed him from you. “How about we move from the hallway, don’t want to get in anyone’s way now do we?” You spoke, your words hazy as his touch left you. “Certainly not, I can’t let your family see what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered, his words blowing over you as you shivered, walking into the elevator.  

His hands coasted over the straps of your dress, nimble fingers pulling the material down your shoulders as you crashed into one another in the elevator. Your fingers found the buttons on his shirt, trembling as you undid them, his lips on your neck once more. You melted against the wall as his teeth grazed your skin, the bite of the cool metal on your bare skin. Your fingers splayed against his chest as his shirt came undone, the tie around his neck hanging loosely as you trailed your nails over his skin. Ragged moans left his mouth as you arched your back, a need pooling within you as he placed wet kisses along your collarbone. He pulled on the straps again, his grip rougher than before as he cradled you to him, his cock hard against you as you sighed. The elevator climbed higher, reaching the top floor before long. Pulling away from him, you staggered towards your door, his hands never leaving your skin as you fumbled for your key. He pressed himself against your back, fingertips kneading small circles into your hips as he pulled your hair from your neck. You bit back a moan as his tongue slid over your skin again, your hips bucking back against him as you slid the key into the lock.  

Your bodies were a flurry of movement the second the door clicked open, hands finding hands, items of clothing falling to the floor as you stumbled into the room. Your dress was almost ripped from your body as his fingers tugged at the zip on the back. “Just tear it, I won’t need it again.” You whispered as he tugged at the fabric, the scraps of it falling to the floor. A rush of cool air hit your skin as it was replaced with the warmth of his skin. You walked backwards, unsure on your footing as you stumbled in your heels. His eyes danced over your skin, his lips caught between his teeth. His usually bright eyes had darkened, his lips red as he pushed you to the bed. You lay on your back, barely propping yourself up as you looked at him. His chest was toned, scars littering his skin as he pulled the last of his shirt from his body. Years of FBI training had done wonders for his biceps, the muscles moving under the skin as he loosened of his tie, lifting it over his head as you watched on. His long fingers reached for his belt buckle, nimbly undoing the metal clasp as he kicked his trousers from his body.  

“Come here.” He demanded, his tone gravelly as it reverberated through you. You nodded, sitting up as he walked towards you, his tie wrapped around his fingers. “You trust me?” He asked, lifting your face to look at you properly. Your eyes connected as you nodded, something within you throbbing as he smiled. “Good. Now close your eyes.” You did as he asked, your lids shutting as you felt his hands on your face, the soft friction of his tie grazing your cheekbones as he tied it into your hair. It was heavy on your eyes, your vision completely obscured as you felt him push you to the bed, his fingers running over your ribs. “Can you hear me Gwen?” He asked as you nodded, a small yes leaving your lips. “Good.” He spoke as you felt his body move closer to yours, the warmth of his breath washing over your chest as he fingered at the lace of your bra. You arched off the bed as his hands wrapped around, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp as you collapsed again. A moan left your lips as he pulled it from you, his lips pressing against the valley of your breasts, the beginnings of stubble scratching at your sensitive skin.  

His fingers pressed against your skin, rough fingertips moving in circles as he cupped your breast in his hand, a thumb rolling over your nipple as he took the other between his lips. Your lips parted as his tongue lapped at your skin, your body arching towards him as you yearned for his touch somewhere else. Small moans left your lips as his hands snaked down your arms, pulling them towards him before he pressed your hands flush against the bed. “Can’t have you taking off that blindfold.” He smirked against your skin, his lips trailing over you as he moved down your stomach, his breath washing over every inch of you as you surged towards him. “Now I’m going to trust you, not to take that blindfold off as I take your panties off. Can I trust you?” you nodded weakly as his fingers hooked into the band of your panties, his breathing staggering as he peeled them down your legs, almost achingly slow. You bit your lip, your fingers gripping onto the duvet as you struggled not to take the blindfold off. All you wanted was to see him, to see that mop of hair between your thighs, the curve of his shoulders as he hoisted you further down the bed.  

“Good girl.” He cooed as his hands found yours again, his words reverberating through your skin. You smiled as you felt him shift beneath your legs, his hair tickling the insides of your thighs. “This is what you meant by room service right?” You stifled a laugh as he pressed his lips to your skin, his touch edging higher as you bit back a moan. You stilled as he pressed nearer to you, his breath setting fires within you as you held your breath. Neither of you moved as you anticipated his next move, your fingers carding the white sheets as his tongue ran over your clit. A moan escaped your lips as you surged, his tongue sliding through your folds as he teased your entrance. One of his hands escaped from your wrist, resting on your inner thigh as he pushed your legs up, his tongue moving expertly over your clit. Every nerve in your body was on edge as you moaned, your hips rolling against his mouth as his lips wrapped around your clit, his teeth carefully grazing the sensitive nub. Your eyes rolled behind closed lids, the thick material of the tie making it harder to move your eyes. Your head canted back against the duvet, your hair falling in your face as you shook, your legs stiffening as his hand moved from your leg.  

You could feel the edge of his nails rake across your skin, something delicious in the way he moved his fingers as he trailed over your hips. His lips moved over your pussy, his tongue spreading you as he flattened against you. Your back twinged as electric surged through your system sparks flying behind your eyes. You waited with baited breath as his hands replaced his mouth, his coarse fingertips raking over your clit as you rolled your hips against him. Fingers teased over your entrance as his lips pressed against your thigh, his fingers teasing mercilessly over you as mewls spilled from your lips. “Stiles-” You begged as he kissed higher, the muscles in your legs twitching as you struggled to anchor yourself to the bed. “Stiles-” You moaned again as you heard him chuckle, the throaty sound almost vibrating through your body. Your toes curled as he pressed his fingers into you, his long digits curling as your body sighed in relief, the fire within you climbing higher as his mouth returned. He made quick work of licking over your clit, almost dancing over you with the tip of his tongue as you gripped at the sheets, your knuckles turning white.  

You pressed against him as his fingers pistoned within you, fingers scissoring apart as he moved over you. The flames grew hotter as you pulsed, your body throbbing as air came harder to come by. Moans filled the room, his guttural and raw compared to yours of pure ecstasy as you wriggled beneath his touch. Fireworks roared in your head as you felt yourself push from the bed, your body a flurry of pleasure as you hurtled over the edge of your orgasm. Your breath hitched in your throat, a strangled cry barely making a sound as your body flooded with pleasure, the fire dampening briefly before surging again. You fell to the bed, your breath coming in short bursts as your heart slammed in your chest. Stiles’ fingers stilled briefly, his mouth leaving your pussy as he chuckled. “You sound like you want more.” His voice was honey smooth, his words falling over you as your muscles relaxed. You nodded meekly, your lips pressed together as his fingers curled once more. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” You barely heard him as he pushed his fingers against a spot within you that made you see stars, your fingers loosening from the sheets. You reached out, your fingers tapping along things until you found him, his hair ensnaring in your fingers as you pulled him towards you, the embers of a flame that had not distinguished warming up as he circled your clit.  

You jerked, the area still over sensitive as his fingers sped up, pushing into you as you let moans fill the air, your heart slamming faster against your rib cage with every stroke. You didn’t take long, the combination of his lips against your clit as his fingers pushed into you had you a mess beneath him faster than you thought. Your chest heaved as you released his hair, pushing him from you as you came, your legs shutting as you cried out. Curses littered the air like a prayer as you mewled, your breaths staggered as you curled onto your side, your entire body a live wire, ready to be set off at the slightest touch. “Gwen, come here.” Stiles’ voice was soft as he pulled you up, his fingers brushing your hair back as you panted, your chest rising and falling quickly. “You don’t need the blindfold anymore, I want you to see how good I’m going to fuck you.” He loosened the ties, his fingers nimbly letting the material fall before he pulled you from the bed. Your eyes watered as they adjusted to the light, the dim room levelling off as you saw him rise from his knees. He reached out a hand to you as he spun around, pulling you so you were stood. Your legs shook at the pressure, your body weak as he sat on the edge of the bed.  

His boxers lay abandoned on the floor as he pulled you closer to him, your legs straddling his as his hands laced around your wrists, pushing your arms behind your back. Neither of you said a word as he lined himself up with your entrance, his lip caught in his teeth as he stared at the place the two of you met. You closed your eyes slowly as your hips sank down against his, his cock stretching your walls as you both fought for a breath. He paused, a shaky moan leaving his swollen lips as he bottomed out within you, his cock twitching as you wriggled against him. “Someone’s impatient.” He scolded, a lopsided smirk on his face as he lifted you slightly, your legs curling around his. “Stiles-” You whined as his lips pressed against yours, his tongue rolling over your bottom lip as he cantered upwards, his cock burying deeper within you. You caught your breath against him, your head falling to the crook of his neck, small kisses littering his mole speckled skin. His fingers danced over your arms as you clasped your hands together as he thrusted, your bodies moving in synchronicity. Choruses of moans meshed together as he groaned, pulling at the skin of your hips. You rolled against him, the coil inside you tightening with every slight brush of his hands on your body.  

You ran your tongue across the crook of his neck as he pulled and pushed you onto his cock, your walls clenching around him as you grazed your teeth against him. “You’re going to be the death of me” He whispered as he pulled you back to look at him, his hips speeding up as you locked eyes. Your eyes closed as you threw your head back, every cell in your body almost screaming as shivers ran down your spine. His dark eyes were clouded with lust, his lips pulled back in a look of concentration as he slammed into you, your body shaking as you screamed once more. You fell slack in his arms, your breathing stopped as your head spun. Stiles went quiet, his hips staggering against yours as he came, his breathing punctuated with moans as you fell against him once more. His hands pulled at your arms as he placed them around his shoulders, his hands shifting to your ass as he stood, his grip faltering slightly. He paused, taking a breath before walking to the top of the bed, placing you on the duvet, your head hitting the pillow graciously. “Well this is exactly what I meant by room service.” You chuckled, your voice cracking as you talked, his body slotting into the space next to you. “It’s exactly the room service I wanted.” He chuckled, his arm falling over your waist as you lay there in peace.  

You don’t know how long went by, the both of you just lying in peace, barely talking, the feeling of each other’s skin against your own. You were nearly asleep as you heard a slamming on the door, your reverie broken at the loud noise. You shook your head, burying deeper into Stiles’ arms as he snored, his grip tightening around your waist. You smiled as the door shook again, the knocks coming faster again. “Maybe it’s the hotel telling us we have a noise complaint.” Stiles joked, his voice thick with sleep as he moved your hair from his face. “I should really see what they want.” You sighed, leaving his warm grasp unwillingly. You stood, stretching out your limbs as you reached for Stiles’ shirt, haphazardly thrown into the corner of the room. The door rattled again as you fumbled with the buttons, your hair falling in your eyes. “One second!” You shouted, your words tinged with annoyance as you read the time on the clock. 4am. Why the fuck would they send someone up at 4am? You trudged through your suite, buttoning the last button on Stiles’ shirt that would mean you’re semi decent. You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, purple marks on your neck, mascara smudged and your hair in knots around your face. This is going to be a bitch to cover tomorrow. You thought to yourself, a small smile forming on the corners of your lips. Worth it. The door hammered again as you swore. “I’m coming!” You reached for the door handle, pulling the door open as you blinked adjusting to the light of the hallway. “Can I help you?” You spoke dryly, your eyes coming into focus as you recognised the man in front of you.  

“Mike?”  

[severingt]

Bert, My Maternal Grandfather

Sometimes I think I remember things about granddad Frewin, my maternal grandfather, but then I remember that it was on film and so I’m not sure. However, he was the first relative to die, thus making an unforgettable mark. I used to stay at their house on Friday nights, I don’t know why. I did spend much more time there than with my paternal grandparents. I used to sit on the settee and he would sit in an armchair, near the big art deco Philips radio, by the door into the glass roofed conservatory. He was a tall guy, but then everyone looks tall to a 9 year old. He held himself well, even though he wasn’t a well man. A proud man, I think. He was well proportioned too, not an ounce of fat on him. He was quite dark skinned, no tattoos – unusual for a naval man, most of his hair was still there, thick eyebrows and the skin on his face looked well weathered, as old sea dogs often are. He joined the navy before he should, or so legend has it, lying about his age to get in. That was it I think, he became an electrician and after his seafaring days were over he worked in Portsmouth dockyard. It was also said that after a lifetime of being an electrician, his fingers became so used to electricity that he had to lick them to make the shock greater, so he could feel it; well that’s what I was told. He was a friendly old bloke. We would sit there watching the TV and every so often he would relight his roll up cigarette, which was a brand called ‘Black Beauty’ which came in silver foil and had a picture of an African woman on the front. I did a bit of research on the net about this brand and in something written by John McVicar, he mentioned it only being available in prisons; well, it’s been replaced there now by Drum tobacco, but interesting. His breathing was a problem, often coughing and wheezing followed by relighting his roll up and taking a long drag from it. Ironic now, typical then. I do remember feeling close to him but cannot remember why, I guess it’s because I spent at least one night a week there. Anyway, he used to tend his garden that had a huge rhubarb plant on the left hand side as you looked down it; and an old tin bath used then for collecting rainwater just outside of the conservatory. He also had an allotment somewhere, I feel sure. There was also a coal shed in the garden nearer the house on the left too. The house was an old fashioned design, probably built around the turn of the century, that was quite prevalent in Portsmouth; a long hallway down the left and front room, then kitchen on the right then slimming down to the back room then on to the glass roofed conservatory. In the side alley was access to the outside toilet and a table up against next doors wall and the kitchen window. On this table, and under it, were earthenware jars that he used for his winemaking. These were mainly vegetable wines, as opposed to fruit. I inherited his recipe book and once made potato wine, it was really nice too; sweet as I remember and no waste as the boiled potatoes could be sliced and fried. Something that is on film but it feels like a memory is him going off to the Royal Naval Electricians Association meetings, very smartly dressed with grey trousers and navy blue blazer with a emblem of some kind, probably naval, on the breast pocket. I can also remember waiting for his return, often running to meet him as he turned the corner. ‘Watcha’ cock!’ he used to say to me as a greeting. It used to make me smile and still does as I’m sitting here bashing the keys, grinning broadly. I remember meeting one of his brothers, Uncle Jim, around London way and going to his daughters wedding where I mistook tomato juice for raspberry juice – what a taste surprise that was! My first time in Malta, I went with my grandparents for a month and at two weeks we were joined by my parents and brother. The apartment we stayed in was at the top of a hill, which I now know to be the Savoy hill. We had to walk slowly up the hill as my grand father regularly got short of breath. He used to send me down to the shop every morning to buy a Times of Malta for him and a Bounty for me. I can still taste the only just solid chocolate wrapped around the sweet, sweating coconut – pure heaven. When they started advertising Bounty, many years later, saying that you should cool them in the fridge, it was anathema to me – put them in the oven and serve at 35 degrees Celsius, I say! We used to eat in Sliema, in a place called the Army and Navy. You had to walk downstairs to get into the place and when there, you noticed it was covered from floor to ceiling with white square tiles. It was what we would describe as a ‘greasy spoon’ type café. There was nothing wrong with it at all, fresh Maltese rolls on the table and good, honest food at very reasonable prices. I can remember 9d (at that time, the Maltese used English currency) for a starter-sized plate of spaghetti bolognaise; 1/-6d for a big one! My grandfather would not sit on the same table as us if we had spaghetti; he used to describe it as a plate of worms! I think he was very much a meat and two veg. type of guy. One night we went out to a place near Manoel Island in Gzira to eat, which is still there to this day. I remember it being quite a dimly lit place and we sat outside looking out over the sea, we all had fish and chips. Either in this café or very nearby, bingo was being played as I could clearly hear the numbers being called. Then, suddenly, my granddad let out a scream and an expletive I think, and took something from his mouth and threw it into the sea, which was only feet away. I was shocked and a little scared as this was completely out of character for this gentle old man. It turned out that in the dim light my grandfather had mistaken a slice of lemon placed on his plate to garnish the fish, for a chip, put it in his mouth and bitten into it, which was followed moments later by the scream. It’s still funny, even now some 40 years later. One day we went for a walk, he and I, along Msida; there’s a park / gardens there and you can sit and look at all the moored wealth on display. He got chatting to some guy whilst sitting on a park bench and I listen as he retold his story. It was quite funny hearing him recounting his life to a stranger, as he lapsed into slang. At one point he said ‘and so I met this Maltese bird, married her and took her back to England’. It’s strange to hear my grandmother referred to as a ‘bird’. I don’t remember what time of year it was, but I think it was 1967. I think this because it was the year we went to New York and granddad and my father were not coming; then after my grandfather died, my father did come. Anyway, I must have been 10 years old. I think it was a weekend as my uncle was at my paternal grandparents and he lived out of town, maybe Bath at that time? The emotion rises even after all this time. Anyway, I was at my other grandparent’s house, I guess to see my uncle and cousins. I just remember being told that granddad had died. I was so sad, I cried and was inconsolable. My dad didn’t try too hard, as usual, but my uncle tried to calm me down. I can remember my brother and cousin tucking in to Sunday lunch, I think; and remember wondering why no-one else seemed upset. It was a bad experience, made worse by the lack of empathy or support. I wasn’t allowed to go to the funeral, so I don’t know what it was like or where it was. I only remember my mum saying that his wish was to be buried at sea. So they cremated him and his ashes were taken out to sea by the Commodore's launch which was arranged by the undertaker as he told us the navy did that for their ex-servicemen. It was his wish to retire to Malta; he didn’t make it, he didn’t even make retirement, I think. Granddad Frewin died in 1968, aged 64 And that’s it; those are all my memories of my maternal grandfather.

[thebrowneyedlolita]

MILLI

A long time ago, during what I would call a moment of self doubt, I remember writing to one of my friends this particular message: “ Wish I didn’t feel this much all the time”. I guess the signs were all there already… Now, his reply is the best part. He simply, without any further context given, just said: “I thought about it, but I always end up with the conclusion that I’d rather feel too much than too little”. And there you go. Here I am at the brink of my mid twenties, coming to terms with the reality of it all, and it is slightly terrifying but definitely liberating. I feel too much, I internalise every single little movement and word spoken and to feel for me is to live, experience in strong waves that exaggerate and amplify ‘til my whole body and mind are left exhausted.

My sadness, no matter how little, comes and leaves a mess of shattered glass everywhere, which I diligently and continuously pick up again and reassemble in the best way I can, ‘til the next wave of hurricanes hit the port. And the regularity of it has made me the best of my class at it. I have developed different techniques and methods to regroup and return to a formation, fit enough to fight the next battle. This shouldn’t inspire feelings of pity in the reader, as there is nothing quite as vulgar and easily manipulated as pity. I don’t want pity, in fact it’s not at all as bad as it seems. Happiness for example, can translate into a very strong and powerful emotion to me too and trigger a beautiful wave of intensity that washes over me and leaves me feeling complete.   

For as long as I’ve known how to talk and fully understand emotions, my cognitive ability to process the world around me has always fascinated and scared me at the same time. Every stimuli from the external world has the ability to single handedly knock me off my feet and affect me in such a way that I can’t quite put into words. I’ve decided to scrap up a list of things that I am, the good and the bad, in an effort to come to terms with all of it and hopefully use this as a therapeutic ground for acceptance and growth. 

When I was a kid, my grandparents had a cassette of Riverdance (Irish dancing),the whole thing fascinated me so much I spent two weeks learning the dance over and over again until my legs hurt. I devour books and songs, to the point where people don’t get how excited a bass line makes me feel that it changes my whole mood. Not to mention the immeasurable amount of times I’ve attended a concert and felt my heart would explode, or the times I’ve fallen into a complete trance whilst listening to musicians play jazz at my favourite spot. 

I hate confrontation to the point where I physically feel pain after an argument and my stomach closes up, I frequently laugh and smile whilst walking on the streets which I recognise might scare the people surrounding me but I can’t help it. 

I associate every track to a moment, a word, a feeling, an image, a time and space. I daydream on a regular basis which causes me to miss my tube stop very often. I am obsessive about my hygiene and will floss and oil pull and wash myself way more often than necessary but strangely am not compulsive about anything else. If I think a song sounds like another one I will spend the whole day trying to find what the other one’s name is. I look at colours and images very often and associate them in my head.

I am extremely responsible and I never wanna rely on anyone so am often the person that takes you home at night, tucks you in and leaves water by your bed. I don’t like change to be honest, I love the routine but only if it has excitement in it, if not I try and construct a new set of habits that incorporate that. I dance when I brush my teeth, when I take a shower, when I cook and when I’m supposed to work out. I am not great at sleeping, I am very wired at all times so to ask my head to shut up is a mission.

I love people that are passionate about something, and I will surely fall in love with you if you spend time trying to explain to me how much your passion means to you and let me into your crazy little world. I don’t care if your passion is collecting pencils, just walk me through it with lit up eyes and excitement and I’ll love it.

I love to make other people feel better even if I am not feeling great, I have a bit of a nurse complex but hey it is what it is. I don’t like criticism unless it’s feedback. I have developed a fear of heights which particularly affects my ability to climb up ladders.

I find comfort in music and being alone. I work well in social environments but thrive alone. Sometimes I am very hard on myself and it sucks cause no matter how well I do, it’s still not good enough to my ideal standards. I’ve been put on a pedestal my whole life and I’ve just recently found pleasure in stepping down from it and doing the unexpected. In fact being a bad girl turns me on. I love studying and academics is something I do miss a lot. I love past times and nostalgia for places and people I’ve never met. I’m extremely anxious about missing out and not knowing enough so I try to listen and learn as much as I can about history and science and music and movies and cultures and all the rest this world has to offer.

I can be a bit of a moon in scorpio but I guess it balances out with my sun in Leo. I make a lot of playlists and wish the days of mixtapes were still around. I idealise everything and everyone and it always bites me in the ass when reality hits. I find it hard to receive affection these days because of a rotten apple I’ve had in my past relationships but I’m working on it. I love the mountains and I could spend my whole winter season there. I can be very spiritual as well as very cynical and it’s a weird balance if you ask me. 

I don’t suffer from PMS nor have a painful period which is usually very short lived and I thank the gods every time for this. My mother says I was born to be a mumma and to be fair I can’t wait to have lots of kids and have them wear Led Zeppelin t-shirts and buy them as many instruments as they want. I write a lot and it helps me process stuff. I eat pretty healthy but would down an IPA and pasta every day of my life if I had the chance. When I was a kid my dad used to cook pasta with tuna when my mum was away flying and that was pretty much the only dish he knew how to cook.  Still to this day, I make the best pasta with tuna and vinegar and it’s my favourite dish ever.

I am a very sunny person that lives off of light and warm energy but unfortunately find myself contemplating the darker side of things more often than I wish. 

I am extremely sensitive to people’s emotions and can usually get a good sense of how the other person is really feeling, therefore I go out of my way to make them feel comfortable and give them whatever they need which in return drains the energy out of me. 

I love Woody Allen’s movies and walks at night in lit up cities. I love breakfast, it’s my favourite meal of the day. I have a necklace my grandad gave to me before he passed away and I always carry it with me so when I walk it sounds like him walking in the house. I am not scared of death and would be okay if I had to leave tomorrow cause I believe in fate. 

My favourite movie is When Harry Met Sally and it’s a comfort blanket for me, I used to be able to recite what Billy Crystal said to Meg Ryan at the end. For a long time I wanted to be an actress and got into the actor’s studio in NY but decided I wanted to pursue music instead as I couldn’t see myself living without it. I also wanted to be a ballerina for many years and pursued ballet, frequently visited Julliard with my mum until I grew up and decided it wasn’t for me. 

I don’t get along with technology and partly, I admit, it’s due to my rejection of all things that I find lack human touch. I am extremely fascinated by complex individuals, people that have different layers to themselves and think too much. 

I am scared of clowns and anything relating to the circus.  I have found out after an unfortunate incident that I talk a lot and calmly in situations of danger as an adrenaline release, like this one time where a robber came into my house whilst I was home and as a 15 year old girl at the time, I had long meaningful conversations with him although in a situation of panic and terror. 

He caressed my face before leaving and said “You’re a clever girl”, that episode is still stuck in my mind. He was actually nice to be honest. I also didn’t cry for a while after that.

I don’t like to look at violence not even in movies. I am constantly split between a more tomboy aesthetic that comes naturally and a less comfortable feminine look. I can definitely tell the difference between filtered and unfiltered water and admit I might have a slight addiction to coffee. I don’t like to relinquish control, that’s why drugs have never really had a hold on me. 

My dream is to get to see Michael McDonald perform live. I also wish I could just take a plane and go to New York tomorrow, see Allen perform and eat the best bagel from Zabar’s but I also have rent to pay. I never go shopping for clothes, and if I have to I will smash it out in a couple of hours. Lord knows how people find that interesting. 

I sing because my granddad made me fall in love with it and was my biggest supporter. I love high end fashion but have mixed feelings towards it as I realise the negative impact it has on the environment. Sometimes I wish I could just be reckless and impulsive instead of a responsible routined human but can’t do much about that. 

If I tell you I love you, it means I love you. I once had an outer body experience at a Tinariwen concert and I keep trying to see them live as much as I can to get that feeling again. My favourite instrument is the bass and unfortunately I have a tendency to start many things and never finish them.

I am a bit of a hypochondriac and am always freezing, always. Leo in Titanic was my first ever crush and as a funny coincidence, I too, draw with charcoal. In the summer of 2017 I couldn’t get out of bed, a really special person helped me get out of bed, gave me a job, a purpose and helped me get over it. I weighed 48 kilos, I made a promise to myself one day I would always make sure to never let myself get to that place anymore and I’ve been pretty good at that. I am thankful for people in my life that saw me at that time and helped me through it, I will never forget.

Other than that instant, I am generally very happy and my favourite flower is the sunflower. My favourite colour is dark green and if I could have a superpower I’d probably wanna fly. I have a very bad habit of chewing loudly and I’m tryna work through that. I also have a long time dream of doing stand up comedy but am not great at delivering punch lines. 

I do believe that Christopher McCandless really hit the jackpot when he wrote “happiness is only real when shared” in his diary and I also think that people should put down their phones and talk more. I’m trying to make an effort to improve on that. I think that sums it up, although I do think I’ve left out a lot of stuff for sure. Ah yeah one last thing, no cilantro and Waffles over Pancakes any day. 

EL xx

[theletterformallyknownasq]

Kaja - August 22nd, 2018

Me: All right. Session 2. I'm here with Kaja Vang. Thank you for al­lowing me to interview you and hear your stories and your experienc­es of being Queer and immigrant while living and working and making home in Minnesota. Can you tell me how you received your name? Kaja: My mom said that my grandma had a dream and it was filled with a lot of fireflies. She just woke up and told my mom 'you're gonna name your kid Kab Ntsha.' That's how you pronounce it in Hmong. Kab meaning Bug, Ntsha meaning Light. And my mom was like 'OK cool.' And then she gave me my middle name which is Mindie. But my grandma basically named me.

Me: Have you ever revisited that story with your family to confirm that? Kaja: When I was a teenager, yeah. So my grandma passed this past winter, so I wish I took the time to actually talk to my grandma and figure out how did she specifically came up with my name. Because memories and words aren't always 100% what my people say. My mom is super dramatic sometimes. So when I was little when I first entered the academic world, my teacher couldn't pronounce my name, so they came up with Kaja, I just went with it. Then I was like, 'is that how I pronounce my name?' It sounded way easier. So I'm like 'OK cool whatever.'  And then when I was transitioning into my freshman year in college, I was like 'oh I really want to reclaim my name and make sure people say it right.' And then I was talking to this white boy. He's like, "What's your name?" I'm like 'It's Kab Ntsha.' He's like 'Oh, ganja like weed?' And from that point I'm like 'nope, zip, I'm going with Kaja, pronounce my name wrong. I don't give a shit.' I only correct you if I love you dearly and you're a part of my life and I want that to be a thing. But general strangers, the youth that I work with, they sometimes call me the wrong name that sounds similar to Kaja. And people always question 'Oh is that how you say your name in Hmong?' And I'm like, 'no but I'm not trying to teach you right now.' Me: How have people mispronounced your name? Kaja: They call me Kaia which is like some white European shit. It's K-A-I-A instead of the J. They call me Kesha. Me: No. Kaja: They call me Tasha. Me: Nahhhh. But The "T"?! Kaja: Right? But that's the general gist of what people call me. And I just don't want to correct them unless I really care about them. Me: How do you identify? Pronouns et al? Kaja: I identify as a nonbinary and Queer Hmong writer. I write a lot. I'm pretty gay. Me: You kind of already touched on this but where's your family from? Kaja: So they are technically from Laos. I don't know my dad's history, I mainly know my mom’s. She grew up in the refugee camps in Thailand. Thailand and Laos is where my family is from. Me: And what brought them to Minnesota? Kaja: Colonialism. White supremacy. The U.S.-Vietnam War. My mom was born in 1974, so she grew up in the middle to end-ish of the Vietnam War. My mom's the oldest in her family and she had I think two younger brothers at that time when my grandma decided to leave Laos to go to the refugee camps in Thailand. She left my mom and her younger sister behind. So my mom and her younger sister had to basically leave. Someone ended up taking them to a refugee camp somewhere. I'm not sure if it's in Laos or Thailand. My mom was like 5 or something. She found aunties at the refugee camps and every morning before the sun rose, she would exit the refugee camp and then knock on neighbors’ doors and beg for food and she would come home, come back to the refugee camp and feed her younger sister. All the aunties kept telling her that her mom didn't love her, that she abandoned her and her father left as well. My granddad left way before my grandmother left to go to another refugee camp. But eventually a couple of years later, my grandpa came back and realizes she's his daughter, tells her to leave with him. And the whole family got reunited in the United States again. Me: Wow. I’m holding that for you, that's really heavy and hard to recall. My family had a similar experience but we were never displaced from our homelands. Thank you for sharing that. And what has kept them and yourself here? Kaja: I think the hopes and dreams of living a better life. For my parents, this is what they've always thought the U.S. would be. A place you can make it on your own and have your own business and be wealthy in terms of what Hmong immigrants think is successful. In my eyes, they're super successful. They have always thrown themselves into new experiences. So I grew up in a grocery store that my mom and dad got handed down from shady ass uncles. My mom and dad just kind of winged everything and learned everything about business by themselves. And they've always pushed me to be super innovative, creative, and to make a lot of money. And for me the reason why I'm here is because I'm about community. I found people who love me for who I am, and really support me and my journey of finding and expressing my authentic self. And that's why I'm here. Me: Would you want to stay in Minnesota? Kaja: For the time being, yes. I’m pretty sure this is an excuse for myself, but my parents are transitioning from owning a grocery store and then having the state buy the land because they want to pave a highway through it and do this man-made sewage lake thing.

Kaja: So then my mom and dad then purchased another commercial building a few miles away from the original one and this was a transitioning time my mom got her hairstyling license. And we bought this commercial building with the money that the government gives and my mom opened up her own beauty salon. And so right now, business has been going down and instead of renting out the open spaces in the building, my dad decided to renovate the middle space and make it a grocery store again. And so right now I'm kind of stuck helping them. Feeling obligated to be here for them still. But I mean I would like to move elsewhere and experience what life could be or how community looks like outside of Minnesota. Me: Hmm. East Coast then, maybe? Kaja: I haven't been there as an adult. I've only been to New York when I was a teenager. Me: What do you do for a living? Kaja: I work at a homeless drop-in center for youth between 16 and 23. I'm basically a social worker that stays in one spot. I don't leave the building ever, so I just do a lot of case management stuff or I build relationships with youth and provide them basic needs. But outside of that stuff that I do for a living that I don't get paid for, I do a lot of community organizing but not in terms of what the white structure of what community organizing is. I write and hope that would be something I can get paid to do one day. But I'm still trying to figure that out. Me: Next question is what gives you joy? Kaja: Gives me joy? Off the top of my head, I think puppies and babies. That gives me joy as well as connecting and getting to know more Queer and Trans folks of color as well as seeing how my parents are slowly learning and shifting their verbiage of talking about Queer and Trans Hmong people.  My mom and dad are always using the excuse that they're too old and can't learn anything new, relying heavily on their kids. Just seeing the initial moment where I told my mom that I'm Queer. She's been referring to my partner as my partner instead of my friend. Slow steps. And that's cool with me. And that brings me a lot of joy, intermingled with a lot of frustration and anger. Good food brings me joy. Eating with other people brings me joy. I hate eating by myself. Me: What does Queer mean to you? I'm going to ask you to elaborate on your definition. Kaja: Queer. It means freedom or space to invest in yourself where you're liberated from the constraints of who you should be. So before I came out or identified as being Queer, I wondered if I was bisexual, and then was like ‘nah, bisexual doesn't feel like me, doesn't feel good to me.’ And then I wondered if I’m pansexual? Am I just attracted to people's personalities? And I'm like ‘nah, that doesn't feel good to me.’ And coming across the word Queer and having a community to reclaim that word again felt right. And it didn't feel too constraining or too rigid, but rather I get to define what Queer means to me. And you might have a different definition and that's cool. I don't mind that. But to me, it just means I'm able to move freely in my journey of discovering all of my identities and how that affects me in the ways that I navigate life. Me: What do you like or don't like about the mainstream definition? Kaja: I don't like white Queers. They're terrible. I have a couple of co-workers who are white cis gay men who say stuff like, "Back in my day, the word Queer was horrible. I don't know why you young kids are using it now." And I'm like ‘ok, to each their own, whatever. Don't judge me. Don't judge anyone.’ And then to the younger Queers or Queers my age, the mainstream usage of it just seems too academic where you have to have the right definition of Queer. And there is no fucking right definition of Queer. And even if your definition doesn't match, you're shunned. Using the word Queer in the mainstream way just seems so full of privilege and whiteness and I don't like that.

Me: Amen. Affirming all of those things. How does your family's culture define Queer? Kaja: YIKES. Me: If they can? Kaja: It's like an intermix of adopting the english word 'gay' to describe all types of Queer relationships and Queerness. Using slang terms. I don't know how to say it correctly, but it's a word that people have adapted to describe Trans women in community. But that's a really negative context that they use it in. It's just also kind of not spoken about. We don't talk about it. We don't acknowledge it. We pretend that Queer and Trans Folk people have never existed before and people think you're just crazy and that you need to find yourself a good man or woman then you'll be OK. I can't describe it in words but rather like in feelings of what Queerness means to the Hmong Community. A lot of shame and guilt and a lot of gaslighting that happens. Like an out of body experience of where you're like ‘Oh am I really Queer?’ But we don't have a word for it. It's shameful. So they think I'm just crazy. So I should probably marry a man.

Me: Last question before we get kicked out of this booth! It's a lil long though. If you could address the most influential public figures and decision makers in the state right now, what would you say about improving the standard of living for someone like yourself in Minnesota? Kaja: Well I don't know the academic term, but the health care where they don't bill you separately and you never meet your deductions and so you have to pay out of pocket for your health care. Universal health care that's affordable. Affordable in terms of we're not sacrificing X Y and Z to pay off our health care bills. We need health care that is encompassing all identities and all genders and all needs so we don't always have to go to specialty doctors and having to pay more and take the chances to cover it out of pocket. Kaja: Housing. Having a more sustainable way of providing housing for folks. Because homelessness is a huge issue here and people always go 'well why don't they work? Then they can get a place. Why isn't there enough public housing?' But there is enough public housing. The thing is we don't provide support to make that housing sustainable for them and we're only worried about if they're going to make enough money on time to pay for rent. It's more than that. It also includes mental health that affects their stability in housing. It also affects what barriers do people have to go through, especially being Queer and Trans and folks of color, to get jobs that pay you well and pay you enough so that you're able to have sustainable housing and that you don't always have to move here and there. And at the end of your lease, if your rent has gone up, you don't always have to find a new place, you know? We're always being displaced. We're always being moved. We are constantly forced to choose. Choose to live in a communal space where we're sharing a house with people, like 6-8 people in one place. And it's not like I only want my own house or my own space, but instead I want that to be a choice rather than out of necessity. Where you have Queer and Trans folks of color having to pool money together, having to share the little resources that they have to be able to support one another. That shouldn't be a thing. It should feel like a choice. But we're doing it out of necessity and survival. Put more Queer and Trans people in higher positions instead of assessing their background in education and experience and them not being good enough for those positions. Or the worry or the threat that we pose as Queer and Trans folks of color when we're trying to get hired for a supervisor position. It's not a threat to you and your power for the company to hire more Queer and Trans folks of color in a higher position.

Me: Well it challenges a power structure, that's why they don't do it. Make us the public figures and decision makers? Kaja: Hell yeah. Especially if you're working with Black and Brown youth, don't you think that? Me: They would respond a little more if they recognized themselves in the people in positions of power?

Kaja: Yeah. Like, why would you hire a white person to fill a role who doesn't reflect the population you’re serving? Me: Or does it? Kaja: Oooooh. Me: On that note. I think that is really awesome. Thank you Kaja!

[waywardimpalawriter]

Someone to love Part 4 of 5

Someone to love

Summary: You’d been there the whole time. Maybe now it’s time to let Steve know what he thinks he’ll never find.

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Character’s: Steve, Reader, Natasha, Peggy, OC male (Reader’s granddad), Sam, Wanda, T’Challa, Bucky, mentions of Sharon,

Setting: from Captain America the First Avenger to Civil War.

Warnings: angst, minor character death, language,  

Notes: written for my 400 follower celebration requested by @angryschnauzer the song is Somebody to love by Queen. What was supposed to be a one shot grew into a four or more parts cause the idea just stuck with me. Hope you enjoy.

Someone tags:  @spnhybrid @iamwarrenspeace @the-doctor-called-loki @hellomissmabel

Permanent tags: @winters-buck @angryschnauzer @marvel-lucy @aquabrie @supernaturallymarvellous @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel

Marvel tags: @sebbytrash @ek823 @marvelfanfichq @creideamhgradochas

Key: Y/GF/N = your grandfather’s name

Someone to love Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 

Part 4: Here comes Goodbye

2015 Week after the Ultron indecent

        “Out to drop another city on someone else’s head?” a snide male voice asked from beside him, casting a shadow over the small metal table. “Or just out to ruin someone else’s day?”

Part of him wanted to turn and land a nice right hook to the ugly sneering face, but he refrains. Hands balling into tight fists, one resting on the white painted metal table the other in his lap. Having heard it all before, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less having giving his life up to protect people who sometimes come across as ungrateful. Kinda understanding why this person needed to vent his frustrations though going about it the wrong way. Steve still felt each jabbing word cut across his emotions like sand paper over rough wood.

“Hey asshat why don’t you shove that snotty attitude were the sun don’t shine,” harsh, with touches of angry and resentment flowing through the cadence of your voice. Having heard what this stranger said to Steve made your blood boil.

Turning, mystery man rakes you with a cool glaze, “What’s it to you lady?”

“You happen to be talking to a dear friend of mine,” arms crossed, laptop bag dangling from your right shoulder, scowl firmly in place on your beautiful face. “Steve has saved this big blue planet and its inhabitants more times than I’m betting you can count. Since your IQ is probably about what your shoe size is.”

Scoffing, stepping a little closer to you, a menacing look in his eyes, “The things this failed piece of garbage did, done and will do, and you defend him. How can you be so blind and stupid?”

Brow cocked, having stepped up beside Steve, one hand resting on his tense shoulder. “Just as you, believing in stories the tabloids, fake news outlets and gossip that’s been spread around for people to judge. Have you ever stopped to think about what it’d be like if Steve never existed, what this world would be like?”

Trying to sit still, not react to you arguing with this man who sees him as a monster rather than a man. At a loss for words, though his heart expands with gratitude and dare he name it… love. No one besides Bucky had ever defended him like you are now. It warms places he doesn’t think should be. He’s fixing to intervene when the male speaks again.

“Better off I’d say sweet cheeks, we don’t need no stinkin wanna be hero in tights,” he’d stepped closer a menacing look in this beady little eyes. “He’s not my Captain America nor does he represent this country. They should’ve just left this asshole in the deep freeze.”

Tensing, eyes narrowing, “Your right he’s not Captain America,” tilting his head towards you at those words, seeing the hard set of your jaw, Steve frowns. “His name is Steven Grant Rogers from Brooklyn, New York, not just Captain America. You don’t have to love him, hell you don’t even have to like him. But you sure as fuck better respect him. Because when the shit hits the fan it’s gonna be him who puts his life on the line to save your sorry ass.”

“Why you little,” he’s fixing to step closer, maybe even hit you, but one will never know.

As Steve stood up quickly, out matching him in both muscle and height, “I took enough from you sir, but I won’t have you disrespecting my girl. So I suggest you take your snide remarks and leave,” fire danced in those sky blue eyes. This time there’d be no holding back on his anger, not when it came to protecting you.

Not having realized what he’d called you, of course those simple two words had made your eyes widen in shock and glance up at Steve, who’s still glaring at the stranger.

“He won’t always be there, can’t be. This piece of shit you hold so dear to will one day break your heart, not because of another woman, but because being that hero man will mean more to him then you. Remember that one sweet cheeks,” his parting shot hit closer to home for Steve, who took another step towards him.

Thankfully he had enough sense to register the look, giving both you and Steve one final sneer before taking off.

Changing topic, trying to lighten the mood, and your own thoughts, “I’m sorry for the language I used I know you don’t approve of that kinda talk,” mischievous smile making an appearance to keep the butterflies from fluttering in your tummy.

Looking down at you, puzzled for a moment as to what you said, “How’d you hear?” Brow lifted as you look at him, smirk sliding into place. “Romanoff, I’m gonna kill her,” he groans as laughter bubbles up and he brings you into the strong circle of his arms.

“No you won’t, she’s family, besides I find it funny and cute,” glad your face is buried in his chest so he doesn’t see the blush that heats yours cheeks. “How’ve you been Steve?”

Pulling back, to stare down into your eyes, the strangers words replaying in his mind as he stares at you. Having only been a few weeks since the last time you’d spoken and much has changed. “Better now.” All honesty in your arms he felt better, like this weight on his shoulders lighten and he could breathe better.

You could see something lingering just behind those sky blue eyes, a profound sadness and something else that wasn’t there a few weeks ago. Knowing his search for Bucky turned up more dead ends than leads, accompanied with what happened in Sokovia, you could only guess at the state of his mind.

Reluctantly stepping from his embrace, placing your bag down before taking your own seat thanking Steve for pushing you in. “Tell me what’s floating around in that gorgeous head of yours?”

Retaking his own seat, hands folded resting on the table, knowing this isn’t the best of ideas. He’d resigned himself to never seeing you again wanting to keep you at arm’s length. However, Steve found he couldn’t do that, mostly because he’s selfish and needs the contact, the ear you prove and the warmth of your arms. He can’t bring himself to stop and part of him knows it’s more than just the friendship.

“Steve,” placing a warm hand on his forearm to gain his attention. “Thought I lost you there for a second Rogers. Where’d you disappear to?”

Shaking his head, hand coming up to encompass your smaller one that rests on his forearm, “Nowhere doll, just thinking.”

“Bucky?” knowing what a touchy subject this is for him, you’re loathed to push for information. “Or does it have to do with what happened last week?”

Moving his hand to the back of his neck, rubbing the tension stiffen muscles. “Bit of both,” he replies before the waitress comes to take your orders.

Silence reigns, you having removed your hand to rest both in your lap, while Steve sat back just staring off. Neither knowing why it’s so hard to talk, when in times past the words flowed natural.

Working up the nerve, “You can talk to me about anything Steve, we’re friends after all.” Those two simple words coming back in a flash, making you wish they’d be real and not just used for show.

This he knows, having bared his soul a few times to you over the course of your friendship. He’s just unsure of how to broch the subject, reflecting on the strangers words and how close to home they truly hit. Feeling as if every step he takes to help only gets met with three steps backwards.

“That’s not in question,” soft voice reassuring as he finally looks up at you. “Last week, what happened, it shouldn’t have. We’re trying to protect the world instead we made a mess of it and almost end up destroying everything.”

“Steve you can’t blame yourself…”

“If I hadn’t signed up for that experiment…”

“Then World War 2 would’ve been even more horrific than it was, good men like my granddad wouldn’t have lived the lives you gave them.” Reaching out a hand to cup his jaw thumb smoothing over his cheek, “You have every right to feel like this Steve, I’m not going to tell you not to. Just that what you did, and have done took a lot of guts and I for one am very proud of you faults in all.”

Figuring your words would do little to help him through these dark times, you pull back only to be stopped as he grasped your wrist lightly keeping your hand against his jaw, rubbing his face into your palm.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” puzzled by his actions though you don’t feel like pulling away, can’t your caught in his web and you have no power to retract yourself.

Gracing you with that killer smile he only seems to reserve for a few people, you being one of them. “For knowing the right things to say and not sugar coating it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it Rogers, someone’s gotta keep you on your toes after all,” smiling your eyes lock with his as that unreadable emotion passes over those sparkling sky blue orbs and his grip on your wrist tightens just a fraction.

You know there’s more to talk about, that issues lay beneath the surface which haven’t been touched yet. Especially about what happened last week and how Steve’s fairing, however that chance to taken from you both.

Soft piano music plays breaking the spell as you reach for your phone, eyes still semi locked with Steve’s while answering, “Hey Ma.” Smile instantly dropping as does your eyes, tears start to pool in those fathomless Y/E/C depths.

Worried Steve pulls his chair up closer, taking your free hand in his giving you support as he listens to the one sided conversation.

“When?” more tears seep from their ducts as a tissue appears and you dap at your eyes. “How? He didn’t suffer did he?”

With each word Steve pieces together what’s happened, a tightness in his chest constricts the blood flow, throat clogging with grief as he watches the pain etched into your beautiful features.

“I’ll be there tomorrow,” you pause trying to come to terms with this news. “No, don’t worry about it, I… I’ll take care of everything Ma. Yes I’m fine and I love you to,” with those parting words you hang up staring blankly.

“Y/N?” unsure of what to do, Steve envelopes you into the shelter of his arms, bringing you onto his lap and cradling you close. “When?”

Sniffing back tears, head resting on his broad shoulder, “Last night, in his sleep.”

“I’m so sorry doll,” fingers running through your hair softly, trying to sooth your pain.

A sob leaves your lips while trying to gather thoughts on what to say, on how to feel. “He’s with grandma now, happier, doesn’t have to suffer,” lips trembling, eyes close as tears slide down your cheeks, soaking Steve’s grey plaid button up. “Why?” the very question so many asked themselves.

Pausing his hands through your hair before sliding them down your back letting them rest around your waist, letting you take comfort and warmth from him as words try to come on how to answer. “I don’t know Y/N. I wish I did my only guess is that it was his time.”

“But I didn’t get to say goodbye, to tell him I love him one more time,” more sobs leave you, body starts to shake and you just want to whale at the injustice. “It wasn’t enough time.”

Gathering strength as Steve feels like someone’s punched him in the gut with this news. He grips your shoulders making you sit back from him, one hand cupping the side of your tear stained face wiping the tears away. “He loves you so very much Y/N I could see it every time I went to visit him, he’s proud of you doll and that will never chance. He’s here,” placing the hand from your cheek against your heart before moving it to tap lightly against your temple. “And here, your memories and love will keep him beside you always.”

At his words a fresh bout of tears fall from your already red rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks as Steve brings you back into the shelter of his arms rocking you slowly. Waving off anyone who came upon the two of you. Just letting your empty out what your feeling in this moment. Till your spent, tired and ready to go home, for which Steve hails a cab and tucks the both of you inside, lunch coming along. But knowing neither will feel like eating it.

Once back at your apartment, “Go change Y/N I’ll set up a movie for us to watch.”

“You don’t have to stay Steve I’ll be fine,” you’ve paused at the threshold of your bedroom, looking back at Steve who’s already set to work on getting lunch unpacked. Fingers fiddling with the hem of your butter yellow tank top.

“Nonsense doll, I’m not going anywhere,” looking up to catch your eye, watching as you come close, looping your arms around his waist. Comfort, safety that’s what you feel in his arms, the only place other than your grandparents.

“Thank you, I don’t know how I could’ve gotten through today without you,” voice just a whisper against his chest, tears threating to fall again. “Tomorrow’s going to be hard.”

Arms firmly wrapped around you, chin resting on your head, eyes closing just taking in the feel of you in his arms. Wrong time and he knows it, but Steve can’t help but feel like right here with you is just right as well as the next words that fall from those sinfully plush lips. “I’m clearing my schedule, coming with you.”

Pulling back, “You don’t have to do that Steve.”

“No I don’t but I want to,” giving you a soft smile and the brush of his lips against your forehead. “I’m not going to let you face this alone.”

“You can stop in and see Peggy to,” the words are out before you can stop yourself.

Shaking his head, “I’ve been to see her recently, this is about helping you Y/N.”

“What about the Avengers?” covering all the bases you might as well asked the other bomb shell right.

Chuckling, pulling back just a little to tip your chin up, “You can’t get rid of me that easy Miss Y/N.”

“Covering my bases,” trying to offer him a smile but it falls short.

“I’ll handle whatever happens sweetheart, now go shower, lunch will be set out and a movie picked by the time you get done.”

Moving from his embrace, missing the warmth and security his arms provide, to pause at your bedroom door again. Turning to look at him, “Yes, sir Captain Rogers sir,” offering up a wink, a glimmer of your old self peeking through all the pain.

Watching you go, Steve stands by the table thoughts warring inside him mind. Wishing right now that he’s just a regular joe with no responsibilities other than work and taking care of his best girl. Having known when he said it to that stranger, and meaning those two words with every fiber of his being. Sometimes, Steve reasoned with himself, being Captain America really did suck.

  **************

  It’s after 10pm before Steve makes it back to the Compound, soul weary and worn out; he heads up into the kitchen for a quick drink before heading off to bed. Having been gone for the last five days, leaving training in Natasha capable hands. She’d been worried about you, wanting to come along however Steve assured her that all was taken care of. His thoughts therefore remained firmly planted with you that he never notices Wanda sitting at the dining table, books scattered everywhere.

Looking up, “You’re back,” frown replacing the smile from her full lips. “Is there a problem Captain?” still having a bit of trouble using his first name.

Head snapping up, “Steve is fine Wanda you don’t have to be so formal,” he’s trying to keep the emotions from seeping into his voice. Not wanting to burden someone he barely knew.

“I will try to remember that Steve,” she returns offering him a half smile, feeling the emotions radiating off him like steam from a hot tea kettle. “But something is troubling you, yes?”

Raking a hand through sandy blond hair, Steve grabs a glass of water, coming to join her at the table. “A friend lost someone very dear to her.”

Head bowing in sadness, her own grief still fresh in her mind, “Anything I can do to help?”

“She’s a strong woman I know things will be okay,” he hopes those words will come to pass and not just for his own reassurance.

 “But you don’t know for sure?” resting her cheek in palm, elbow on the hard surface as Wanda glances over at Steve. Even in the short period of time she’s known Captain America, she’s never seen him look so out of sorts. In a way the very through unnerved her, having only witnessed the strength and determination of this man who’s swiftly becoming a friend.

Staring into his water glass, watching the tiny ripples before everything settles smooth. He’s not sure of a whole lot of things and that’s what terrifies him the most. “No way to know Wanda, I can’t see into the future,” looking up into her sea green eyes, concern warring with curiosity.

His thoughts traveled back days ago, spending time with you, seeing DC, being by your side to help you through this time of grief. It’s the first time Steve’s felt at peace, much like every time he’s with you. Not being able to put his finger on it, your sister was able to drive that home in a snide way. Making him see that he’s fallen in love with you but it wouldn’t be right to tell you. He can see why you barely mention that part of your family, why it’d always been your grandparents you talked about. So why’s he letting the words of one screw up mess with his brain? Because there’s a part of Steve that agrees with everything she said.

He can’t always be there to protect you, would rush out the door on a seconds notice to save the world, miss birthdays and anniversaries, so many little things in a relationship. Most of all Steve knew he’d put you in danger from those who’d try using you, to get to him and that’s one thing he couldn’t have happen.

“So you rather leave her than love her?” soft voice spoke those words, breaking Steve from his own mind.

“How did?” remembering, a scowl forming between his eyes. “No reading my mind Wanda.”

Shrugging, “Hard to ignore when you are practically screaming it at me,” going back to the books in front of her missing the frown which took over his features.

“I wasn’t, I mean I didn’t know I was,” frustration makes him run a hand through his short sandy blond hair.

Humorless chuckle leaves Wanda’s lips as she looks back up at the super solider. “Noted Steve,” seeing the indecision written all over his features “Want a piece of advice?”

 “Anything to help,” he concedes sitting back in the kitchen chair, arms crossed.

Clearing her throat, Wanda faces him, “Tell her, life as you and I know all too well, is short and love doesn’t come along every day. Let her decide for herself if she wants to return your feelings, instead of choosing for her.”

Listening, knowing she’s right but that part of him, which doesn’t want to see another person he loves dies is stronger. “I’ll think about it,” raising he pauses to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you Wanda,” before taking off for his room.

Head shaking as she watches him go, “Foolish male making the wrong choice,” sighing, sadness filling her heart, Wanda goes back to her studies trying not to think about what she’s seen inside Steve’s head.

Meanwhile Steve’s made it to his room, after retrieving his duffle bag from beside his door, he drops it on the bed, making a beeline for the window. One hand resting against the cool glass while looking out over the moonlight blanketed Compound grounds. Though his vision isn’t on the splendid sight but turned inward, remembering again what it felt like to have you in his arms, hugging you, kissing your forehead.

Pushing away he goes to unpack, but a picture of the two of you catches his eye. Taken about two years ago before this whole thing with Hydra was uncovered, before finding out that Bucky was alive. Tony threw a party, like he always does and Steve had been at a loss for whom you ask, your name popped into his head with no hesitation he’d asked you to go. The whole night you’d talked about everything and anything, keeping him company, hitting the dance floor even for a few slow numbers. Now realizing it’d been that day when this picture was taken the two of you standing facing each other, hands entwined that he’d fallen in love with the girl of his dreams and he had to give you up for the greater good. Yeah it truly sucked being Captain America.

Part 5

[riverdamien]

Station 3: Stations of the Cross

Station 3: Jesus Falls the First Time-April 1, 2020

Journey with us in spirit on Good Friday, April 10 as we journey through the Tenderloin. The first two stations will be at City Hall, this station will be at the State Office Buidling.

            There are times when we are living in twilight, we live, yet our lives have changed. The past three weeks they have changed suddenly with social distancing, having to stay in  our homes, businesses shut down, fear of contacting a strange disease, fear of losing our housing, and fear of being on the streets without the benefit of social distancing, food, and care. The reality is things will never be the same gain. It is strange to walk in the midst of people wearing masks, some obviously fearful, and keeping a distance. Every store is closed, and you remember the meals and fellowship in the restaurants. We will never be the same. There is an impersonal-ism, distance, a feeling of just being an object. 

            When Jesus fell the first time, knowing that he was in the twilight of his life, he too knew that his life was ending, life was over. He too was living in fear.

            St. Maria Skobtosova speaks to my heart  in these words setting our priorities:

“At the Last Judgment I shall not be asked whether I was successful in my ascetic exercises, nor how many bows and prostrations I made. Instead I shall be asked, Did I feeed the hungry, clothe the naked, vist the sick and the prisoners.  In doing this “All will be well!”

We all fall, but like Jesus we can get up and face our fears and march forward, with these words from Winston Churchill: "Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference."

( We received a flyer  about ways of dealing with losing financial support in your businesses etc. If you would like a copy send an email and we will forward it.)

Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Station 3: Jesus Falls the First Time

    In your imagination can you see a friend, or yourself, fall to the ground?

The cross became too much for Jesus and he fell, powerless in the moment.

Jesus falls each day in the homeless who suffer from mental illness and drug

abuse.

    In San Francisco, the estimated statistics are that 37% suffer from

alcohol/drug abuse, and 35% from mental illness. It is difficult to separate

these two figures because they both play into each other.

    In the story of the Gerasenes demoniac from the book of Mark, we read:

“5 They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. [a] 2  And

when Jesus [b] had stepped out of the boat, immediately there met him out of the

tombs a man with an unclean spirit. 3  He lived among the tombs. And no one

could bind him anymore, not even with a chain, 4  for he had often been bound

with shackles and chains, but he wrenched the chains apart, and he broke the

shackles in pieces. No one had the strength to subdue him. 5  Night and day

among the tombs and on the mountains he was always crying out and cutting

himself with stones. 6  And when he saw Jesus from afar, he ran and fell down

before him. 7  And crying out with a loud voice, he said, “What have you to do

with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment

me.” 8  For he was saying to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!”

9  And Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion,

for we are many.” 10  And he begged him earnestly not to send them out of the

country. 11  Now a great herd of pigs was feeding there on the hillside, 12  and they

begged him, saying, “Send us to the pigs; let us enter them.” 13  So he gave them

permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the pigs; and the herd,

numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea and

drowned in the sea.

14  The herdsmen fled and told it in the city and in the country. And people came

to see what it was that had happened. 15  And they came to Jesus and saw the

demon-possessed [c] man, the one who had had the legion, sitting there, clothed

and in his right mind, and they were afraid. 16  And those who had seen it

described to them what had happened to the demon-possessed man and to the

pigs. 17  And they began to beg Jesus [d] to depart from their region. 18  As he was

getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed with demons begged him

that he might be with him. 19  And he did not permit him but said to him, “Go

home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and

how he has had mercy on you.” 20  And he went away and began to proclaim in

the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him, and everyone marveled.

        This is the scene we see on the streets daily. Healing those who suffer from mental illness was a part of the ministry of Jesus. It should, by extension, be a part of our own. All of us have something to contribute, including those

without professional or pastoral expertise in mental health care. We do not have to be therapists, but we must be the face of Jesus.

    Mental illness has biological causes, but it also impacts one’s spiritual life: the ability to find meaning. We all have a role to play in helping others restore their confidence, find support, and rediscover their value.

     We all fail in our care of the mentally ill and addicted, but Father Henry Nouwen calls us in these words to get up and to love deeply:

“Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love even more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a strong plant.

Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can stand straight in your pain and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new

seeds.”

    In the same way, we fail each time we criticize or condemn someone that we disagree with or simply do not like. Today it was announced that Rush Limbaugh has lung cancer, and many responses put forth have been to wish him much suffering and some death. Growing up we were friends with Mr. Limbaugh’s family; his granddad was a partner in a law firm with my best

friend’s dad. They are conservative, but very decent people. When my dad was dying from lung cancer himself, the Limbaugh family often gave my mother and me a place to stay.

Through the years I have received death threats, along with all sorts of painful “shit” said to me at first through the phone, then email, and now social media. For the most part, these come from people who do not know me.

Those words hurt and tear me apart. What I have learned through my experience, and the pain in the experience of others who have been hurt by the judgment of people, is that only in caring and loving each other can we truly find wholeness and happiness. Judgment belongs to God!

Stations of the Cross Exmin Style

Step 1: Choose a Station. Let’s say we’re focusing on Jesus taking up his Cross. You can read a passage from the Bible that correlates to that scene or simply picture an image in your mind. Then take a few deep breaths and ask God to help you quiet your head and open your heart. Often we only try to focus on getting rid of all the mental chatter inside of us, but it’s also important to place our attention on the waves of emotions and feelings inside us. Something in you might resist focusing—you may feel tired, nervous, or angry, but that’s okay. Allow yourself to find a level of openness that is true to you.

Step 2: Remind yourself that God is all around you. He’s inside you and outside you and his heart beats in yours. Try to feel that reality as best as you can. Then take the picture of Jesus carrying his Cross, and imagine placing the image inside you. Let it take root in you.

Step 3: Ask the Holy Spirit to rise up inside you and give you the wisdom to acknowledge God in your life. Ask the Spirit to help you meditate on the scene inside you. How do you think Jesus felt when this was happening? What was he thinking? What is your cross to bear? How heavy is it? How does it affect your relationship with God?

Step 4: Review your day. Where did your cross feel the heaviest today? Where did you encounter the cross on the shoulders of others at work, on the news, or in the streets? Where is God in these encounters? Ask God to make you more aware and compassionate of others and yourself.

Step 5: Give thanks to God for the opportunity to know Jesus better, and ask God to help you to become more aware of the crosses that everyone carries in life.

Image by Enrique López-Tamayo Bio

Dear Lord,

Help me keep my eyes on you. You are the incarnation of Divine Love, you are the expression of God’s infinite compassion, you are the visible manifestation of the Father’s holiness. You are beauty, goodness, gentleness, forgiveness, and mercy. In you all can be found. Outside of you nothing can be found. Why should I look elsewhere or go elsewhere? You have the words of eternal life, you are food and drink, you are the Way, the Truth, and the Life. You are the light that shines in the darkness, the lamp on the lampstand, the house on the hilltop. You are the perfect Icon of God. In and through you I can see the Heavenly Father, and with you I can find my way to him. O Holy One, Beautiful One, Glorious One, be my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Guide, my Consoler, my Comforter, my Hope, my Joy, and my Peace. To you I want to give all that I am. Let me be generous, not stingy or hesitant. Let me give you all—all that I have, think, do, and feel. It is yours, O Lord. Please accept it and make it fully your own.

Amen. Father Henri Nouwen

[glass-ladybug]

this is fan this spark into a flame, but im going on this acc so it doesnt show up on my main

Mae stepped out onto the creaky porch, throwing her arms into the air. "Well, that was fun!" Bea, crouched on the step, ever-present cigarette hanging from her mouth, gave a non-committal hum. They'd just made a daring escape from the basement of an odd old woman, aided by Bea's expertise in fixing machines, and Mae's experience in smashing the crap out of them. Even though Bea had apparently had to re-fix the furnace before they left, it was still Mae's powers of destruction that saved the day, /thank you very much/! Geez, and Bea said she was along for the ride. Mae half-tripped down the steps to plop beside Bea. "She gave us lemonade!" She beamed, raising a near empty plastic cup of over-sugary lemonade. Not that Mae cared, lemonade was lemonade. Unless it was that sugar-substitute stuff. /That/ was unacceptable. "Yeah." "You.... Not like lemonade?" Mae needled. Bea snorted, brushing a frizzy strand of hair behind her ear. "It's faaaaantastic." She drawled. Mae shot her a concerned look. Bea should be happy! They fixed a furnace, broke a furnace, then fixed it again! And now they had /lemonade/! "So what's up?" Bea turned away, angling her face to the moon. "Nothing. Just... Tired." She sighed, "Worked all day." "Hey!" Mae exclaimed indignantly. "I worked too!" "You tied a gnome to a plastic fan and spun it around. I don't typically consider that /work/." "Ex-cuuuse me, it was an elegant long-term solution and it would've worked!" Mae laughed, watching Bea's expression for any reaction. Bea's mouth turned up at the corner, a half-smile settling on her face. "Whatever you need to tell yourself at night." Mae scooted into a more comfortable position, setting down her now empty glass, and hugging her knees to her chest. From this point of view, everything seemed ethereal. She and Bea sat in silence on Mrs. Miranda's front porch, the moon illuminating her front yard, the only sound a few crickets chirping in the tall grass. She was almost afraid to talk, worried that it might break the peaceful spell hovering over them. Mae found herself studying Bea. Her dark skin, sharp eyeliner, and frizzy curls hastily pulled back into three knobs. The lilt of her mouth when she was happy, her piercing brown eyes, black lipstick, perfectly shaped eyebrows, and her now oil stained and calloused hands. /Oh my God./ Mae thought. Out of all her friends, Bea was the most mysterious. After seventh or eight grade- Mae couldn't really remember which anymore- they'd stopped hanging out anymore. It was gradual. No fight, nor argument. Every day, she just saw Bea less and less, until they were more like strangers than best friends. They stopped talking altogether when Bea's mom died. But now, Mae was back! And she finally had the chance to make things better. Maybe it'd be okay, coming home so suddenly like this, because they were here together. If they were stuck in Possum Springs, they were stuck with each other. And now, one of those perfect eyebrows was arched questioningly, and Mae could only think of how glad she was to be spending tonight smashing up old furnaces with this girl, and- "Do I have something on my face?" Bea monotoned, abruptly snatching Mae out of her daydreaming. "Huh? I-uh, uhhhh, wha?" Mae stammered. "My face. You were staring, so I could only assume you'd finally lost it, or something dripped on me. I guess it was the former." Mae's skin tingled with embarrassment, her veins still coursing with adrenaline and excitement from the furnace escapade. She stood up abruptly, the porch step creaking under her sudden shift. "I'm all hyper." She said, tapping her fingers erratically on her arm. "Good for you." Mae huffed, throwing her head back. "Ugh, you are /zero/ fun." Bea nodded certainly. "Yup." Mae waved her hands in front of her excitedly, "You need some, some magical shit, to like give you a new perspective." "Ah. Let me know when that happens. Wouldn't want to miss it." Bea took another puff of her cigarette, staring off at something in the distance. Mae looked at her. How could someone sit still and just /think/ for that long? Not Mae. She couldn't remain in the same place for more than 5 minutes at a time. Unless it was thinking about Bea. Mae thought she could probably stretch that out for a while longer. Mrs. Miranda really was weird. It didn't look like she ever cut the grass, and her lawn was covered in all sorts of weird shit, from garden gnomes to the giant-ass windmill near the driveway. Whatever- it was still a pretty cool house anyway. The whole yard was tinged with blue, and the cold moonlight made everything look silvery, like something from a dream. Mae decided she liked it. Mae stepped off the porch. "I'll be back in a minute, I'm gonna go climb the windmill!" Bea sighed. "Please try not to break that too." "No promises," Mae grinned, and then trotted down the yard. The long, dry grass brushed up against her jeans, and found its way to her ankles, tickling her. It was kinda uncomfortable, but she bet it looked awesome. The lone hero, standing majestically in her faded orange t-shirt and waving grass, facing the beast that was a great iron windmill that looked rusted to to one position. Out of the corner of her eye, Mae saw a teensy lightening bug glow softly, then flit to her shoulder. "Ohhhh, hey little guy! You coming with me? Yeah, don't worry, I'll take good care of you." When a second flocked to her she felt special. When a third landed on her forehead, she felt as if her heart was about to explode into tiny shiny pieces. With a solid jump, she landed on the first blade of the windmill, feeling accomplished when it did nothing more than emit a rusty groan beneath her. She hopped from one to another, then to the upper most blade, not noticing that a small gathering of fireflies were now trailing behind her until they all lit up. "Wow..." Mae breathed, surveying the street from her vantage point, watching as a few lone cars lit up the street as they drove on to more busier sections of town. She reluctantly hopped down, metal creaking beneath her as more and more fireflies began to join her crusade. She walked steadily through the gently blowing grass and navigating the various lawn ornaments, re-arrived at the porch steps with a throng of fireflies. Mae couldn't help but grin, putting on her best, "this was perfectly intentional" face. Bea's jaw dropped, her cigarette nearly dropping from her mouth. "Wow." And then, to Mae's delight, she began laughing. Bea shook her head a few times in disbelief, before dissolving into chuckles. It was beautiful. Her eyes lit up brighter than her entire firefly mob, and she just looked so /happy/ that it made Mae happy too. Bea lifted her head again, looking at Mae. "Haha.. Hah. Are you some kind of firefly whisperer or something?" Mae shrugged. "They just like me, I guess." Bea looked at her with something akin to wonder. "That's..." She shook her head. "You're an interesting person, Mae Borowski." Mae nodded sagely, a few fireflies drifted towards the porch light. "Granddad said being interesting is all you can ever hope to be." Mystified, Bea hummed in agreement. "Well, mission accomplished." "Woohoo!" Bea's mouth seemed to be upturned in a permanent smile now, and Mae's heart was speeding into overdrive. Bea smirked. "Y'know. I have to say, this would've been a much less exciting evening if you weren't along for the ride." "See?" Mae offered helpfully. "I'm good to have around." "I mean, you can certainly beat the shit out of a furnace." "I can beat the shit out of /anything/." Now, it was Bea's turn to study her. She took a long drag of her dying cigarette, and murmured, "You should, like, channel that aggression you always have into something useful." Mae shrugged again, but this time her shoulders felt like someone had dropped a rather large weight on them. "Eh, Dr. Hank said way back I needed to repress it." Bea's smile quickly vanished. "'Repress'? Not, like, 'learn to deal with it'?" "Nope. He specifically said, 'repress'." "Uh, okay. Hm." Bea seemed troubled by this, and sensing a shift in tone, Mae sped onto another topic. "My firefly powers aren't for me only, y'know." Bea raised an eyebrow, and the ghost of a smile reappeared on her face. "Oh?" More emboldened now, Mae kept talking. "Yeah, they can be, y'know, transferred." "Is that so?" Bea snorted. "I'm telling the truth! Close your eyes." "That sentence makes me far more inclined to get up and run now." Mae shook her head emphatically. "No, no! Close 'em." Bea huffed, but obediently closed her eyes. "And no peeking!" "Uh-huh. Got it." And with that, Mae leaned forward and planted a kiss directly on Bea's mouth. She pulled back quickly, and rubbed the charcoal colored lipstick off with the back of her hand, her heart beating frantically, and her nerves coursing with excitement. Bea stared at her with wide eyes, a silhouette in the porch light. "See? Now you have them too. We can be masters of the fireflies together." Finding her voice again, Bea shakily muttered, "You are really something else, Mae." Mae clapped her hands loudly. "So, do you think Mrs. Miranda, like, pulled her husbands guts out? Isn't that what you do with mummies?" "I dunno, Mae." Fueled by elation, Mae pushed forward. "Do you think you'd have the stomach for it?" Bea snorted. "Nope." "It probably took a lot of heart." She was laughing quietly. "Yup." "I wish she would /ex-pleen/ it to us." Mae giggled. "I get it, Mae." Every word was punctuated by giggles now. "She really /rectum/." Bea burst into a fit of laughter. "Okay, now that probably stayed in place." "Yeah," Mae agreed, "that should stay where it be-lungs." Bea stood up, and began walking into the calm blue night. "I'm leaving." "Hey!" Mae crowed out, smile stretched wide, "You gotta liver your life!" "Bye." Bea yelled back, words interrupted by involuntary spouts of laughter, "This is me, gone." "Hey, wait up!" Mae sprinted behind her. "You're walking back to town." "You've got a lot of... haha... Gall to say that!" Bea looked back, and Mae almost stopped dead at how beautiful she was. Her eyes crinkled up at the corners, her hair was wild and rumpled, her dark skin almost glowed silver. She laughed, wiping the corner of her eye. "I'm gonna call the cops." And as Mae sped after her, a lone firefly trailing behind, she thought about how for the first time since she left for college, she was happy where she was. And maybe- just maybe- this was where she belonged.

[bongaboi]

Revons Plus Grand, Chapter 14

Revons Plus Grand

Chapter 14:

Play It Out

Later, after another training session, the two loanees to Paris Saint-Germain, Alex Hunter and Danny Williams, decided to flag down Georgette Lemare, who was cleaning up the Camp des Loges. Actually, she was wrapping it up on a busy Wednesday afternoon for the club. Friday, the team was due to face Bordeaux away and the two girls would be catering to the women's team instead. "Jose, is it okay if me, Goncalo and myself have a chat with you?" asked Alex.

"Sure thing. Sada, take care of the place, we'll be back," said Georgette to her partner, exchanging a fist bump with her.

"Come back soon," Sadako replied, waving them off.

The three lads and the lass walked down the forest, the skies a bit cloudy but otherwise cool in mid-winter. "It's strange, really," Jose said as they walked. "I'm 18, so in a way I'm one of your peers, along with Sada."

"It's like we're chatting with a sister that dotes on us," Danny said with a laugh.

"I'm slightly older than all of you guys and I see Jose as a little sister to me too, so there's that," Gonca said in perfect English with a Lisbon accent.

"Indeed, Gonny. But Alex, please tell Jose how your were loaned off after tearing it up early under the other Jose, the male one."

"I guess I'll tell that story," said Alex. "So I am an attacking player whose natural position is CAM. Central Attacking Midfielder, or Attacking Mid. I can also play striker. I recall that on a preseason tour in the summer in America, I scored two goals on Real Madrid and Cristiano Ronaldo and three goals on Borussia Dortmund and Marco Reus. I had my Premier League debut against Liverpool, our rivals as you know, and scored six goals. Then I was loaned to Newcastle, which is Danny's club."

"It was a chance meeting, I must admit!" exclaimed Danny. "I wondered why he had to be on loan and supposedly was being pushed aside for Harry. He wasn't as on form as my mates were. It was a big upgrade and with him with us, we never lost a single match. Then I get the news that he was recalled back. And then, late last month, a deal got arranged for both of us to earn some international experience playing for PSG. And that's how we got here. Thereabouts."

"I hear all the time about Zlatan Ibrahimovic and David Beckham and how they used to play for Paris Saint-Germain," said Jose. "Do you remember what Zlatan told you as you got set to head down here, Alex?"

"Zlatan was so happy that I got loaned to his old club. He told me this, and I quote, 'You are in for a treat, Alex. At Paris Saint-Germain, I won every domestic league trophy out there and left the club a winner. I scored goals. I created chances. I was a destroyer, a creator, a provider and a finisher. You have a long way to go before you can reach the heights that I had during my time, but if you just play your game, listen to the manager and win, everyone in France will talk about you and the big clubs there will even try to make a bid. So enjoy Paris and win for Paris because they dream big and win big.' That's what he told me, and I believe it."

"Jose, we are renting a room in a flat in this commune to get to the Camp and also to head to any team hotels from the facility," said Danny. "Julian and Goncalo were kind enough to show us the ropes and show us the style of play and culture here and we've had to adapt quite quickly because the pace on this team is very fast."

"You're doing your job, mon frere," Jose told Gonca, who nodded. "Integrated quite nicely. Both of you, you should know that Goncalo here is a player contracted to the club, unlike your two on loan. Meaning, he'll stay here after you guys return to Brit-er, England, and your respective United sides."

"We know," Alex said.

"But if your production and form carries over, Alex, the local and national press here are going to label you as Zlatan's successor. They don't realize you're on loan and a lot of dealings with your manager has to happen before they can even think about that, right?"

"We know," Alex and Danny said, exchanging a fist bump with some chuckles.

"The rest of the country will be relieved to see you two return across the channel because you may be running up the score on everyone opponent during your period. If you get really good, the owner here, Mr. Nasser, is going to buy your contract, and you're going to not only stay with us but speak French like you come from Cameroon, the champions of Africa."

"You serious?" Alex said, shocked somewhat.

"They will treat you like a king as long as you maintain and build on your form. In this sports, the best players in the world leave legacies for this who follow."

"My granddad played for Man United and I am following in his footsteps by helping them win this season. Of course, experiencing playing in the UEFA Champions League after showing the gaffer what I can do is even better. He won a European championship during his time and I want to do the same."

"This guy's humble and has expectations," said Goncalo. "I like your style, Alex. Not afraid, and you play like you've been here before. Only 17, too."

"But I need to tell you this," said Jose, "and that is that you need to keep yourself in line and not let your ego overpower you. Noble footballers don't put themselves above the game. No man or woman is above the sport or profession they are a part of because the profession, the sport, transcends all of humanity and is enjoyed the world over."

"That's true..."

"Remember, Alex, you are representing your family, your coaches, your players, and the city you represent, as well as yourself, and you will lead the way if you work hard enough. Those colors, red and blue, rouge et bleu, are the center of the history of Paris, a city that is millenia old and its motte is fluctitat nec mergitur. Tossed, but not sunk. It is a resilient metropolis that continues to endure through hardship, wars, bloodshed and yet remains beautiful and power as ever. It never gave up being who it was and it stands today as a testament, under the two simple colors of red and blue."

"Danny, where is Newcastle on the table again?" asked Goncalo.

He smiled as he pulled out a tablet. "Right here," he said, showing the English Football League Championship Standings. "Got it done against Derby County, who Leicester are facing in the FA Cup. Leicester, who might be heading to the drop zone..."

"Wow, but you're only one point ahead of Brighton so far."

"Rafael says that by the time I return from loan, we should remain top two and our position doesn't change. Five points clear of Reading and the playoffs is a fair deal. Soon, I will playing in the same division as our mate here, right?" said Danny, giving Alex a pat on the back.

"Well, we're here to visualize what we can do playing against European teams and seeing the possibility, and this time, it's a competitive type of thing now. Not friendlies," said Alex. "If you get on the market, you might even join me, but that's only if you're good enough."

"As long as you handle the press after each game and keep your focus of improving and learning ways to improve your form, you'll be fine here," said Jose. "All me and Sada can do is prepare the quarters, cook your meals and prepare the change rooms at Le Parc. After that, it's all up to you."

"The food here is amazing, even for us," said Danny. "I thought it was going to be calorie heavy but I realized that it's wholesome, no-nonsense stuff. And the salads are better than what we have in England. France sometimes does that to you, right, Gonny?"

"It's definitely different than what you are used to," the Portuguese forward said. "But it's only because we have really cute girls doing the cooking."

"Gonca! Sada and I are as old as you, stop being outrageous and making us look like grade schoolers," Jose said. "Really, if I have to put every one of you in line I can do it because I did that to my siblings over in Barenton, where I live."

"Barenton? Where's that?" Danny asked.

"It's a small town near Caen, in Normandy. Sort of like Clapham, thereabouts." In the distance, a mother watches two boys and two girls of grade school age chase each other in the distance.

"Also, I am not sure you know this, but on social media," said Danny, "Alex has over 500,000 followers."

"Across all platforms?" Gonca asked.

"Yes, Gonny, across all platforms."

"Not bad for a lad."

"Just a few years your senior, I reckon," said Alex.

"Can't argue."

Jose noticed a look of disappointment in his eyes, though. "Something must be bothering you."

"What...what do you mean?" he asked.

"Gonca, Danny, you two chat for a bit, me and the Prince need to talk."

"Ah, he's calling you a prince now," Danny said. Goncalo looked at him with an unimpressed look on his face. "Sorry." And the two of them talked. "So, Gonny, tell me about your time at Benfica."

"Absolutely my friend," he said. "So, as the story goes..."

Georgette and Alex were walking, hand in hand through the forest. "How do you know about the situation regarding my father, who I have never met in a long time and have yet to reconcile with?" Alex asked, a stunned look on his face.

"My mother, when she was younger, met your grandfather while he was visiting Caen. This is according to my mom. So, he said to my mom, 'I want to have a grandson that will carry on my legacy. If he is able to play for Man United and maybe win the FA Cup, I will die happy. I also foreshadow that my son might not be able to get along with my grandson, although I wish that I could be wrong.' That what I was told from my mother. She liked the visiting English teams that came to play on dirt pitches and give clinics to young boys and girls."

"What a story, I must say."

"Well, I also learned that I can see what bothers people, especially if they happen to be the age range of my peers."

"I never forgave my father for not realizing how good I can be," said Alex, looking upward to the sky. "I sometimes hated him and cursed his name because he failed as a father for not supporting me. But at the same time, I wanted to be confident enough to forgive him and put our differences aside."

"Alex..."

"That's what I continue to be a student of the game, to continue to improve as a player, as an attacking mid. I need to imagine myself as someone that can provide, create, destroy and produce. To be a complete player like Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo and even Zlatan, that is my wish. But to also show humility and assertive humility when playing for those I hold dear is just as important, if not more."

"Oh Alex..."

He grabbed her hands. "There is something about you that energizes me. You do so much for the team and it's selfless and honest. Mom always told me that I need to think about having a partner in my life and my ideal partner looks, talks, thinks and feels like you."

"I wish I could accept your offer to be that partner in your life, Alex, but...Sada is my partner and we are together."

"You...you are?"

"I am a Lesbian, but more so..." An angelic sigh came out of Georgette's lips as she grew Persian cat ears and a tail. "I am a Witch."

"Wow, just like in that...?"

"But I want you to keep this a secret from everyone, even Danny because I sense that he is a loudmouth, maybe a loose cannon and is going to spread all sorts of stuff. You need to keep him in line when both of you are here."

"Of course, Jose."

The ears and tail disappeared. "But trust me when I say this: you will meet someone who you will love as a partner, one that will depend on you. You need to take care of her, like I am taking care of you at at the Camp."

Alex pulled out an old soccer ball. "This is the old soccer ball that was handed down from my granddad. It's been a lucky charm for the mates over at both Uniteds I played for. They have never lost ever since I placed it in the change rooms."

Georgette touched it. "I can sense a magical power in this ball."

"Really? Real actual magic?"

"You may think about having your mates on the team rub this for good luck but don't depend on this alone. Your knowledge of the game is what will make you successful and your team successful."

"Jose..."

Georgette took Alex's hands and sprouted her ears and tail again, energize. "Listen. I need you, Danny, Goncalo, Julian and Giovani to lead a youth revival at this club and help them regain their form. They have struggled this year against their rivals and lost too many games away from home domestically. The collective morale of this city, my city, Sadako's city, depends on you carrying this team on your shoulders. And I want you do this for me. Do it as if your have a woman in your life that wants you to fight for her, do it for her, win it for her."

Alex smiled. "You give me energy and hope when you are with me. Maybe that's why you are a witch."

"Not just any witch," said Georgette, a finger to her lipstick-laced lips. One eye closed. "A Brave Witch," she whispered with a giggle. "If you are in trouble, just think of me and I'll make sure nothing happens. I serve the men and women for PSG, but I will protect them too if I must. You may be a Red Devil, but we will always have Paris. Got it, my dear Alexander Hunter?"

"Absolutely, and I love you and I'll dedicate my career to you and Sadako." He gave Georgette a hug as he shedded a few tears, a man who wore his emotions on his sleeve. "Thank you for being on our side."

"No one does it better, Alex. Don't forget that."

"I won't." They both smile at each other as a flock of doves flew in the distance.

"Hey, both of you," said Danny, "what have you mates been on about?"

"Danny, Jose here is counting on us to get to work. What do you say, eh?"

"But of course," he replied, the two boys sharing a fist bump. "Together, we will make our club PSGreat Again!"

"Don't start with that," the others deadpanned, not pleased. Danny could only laugh in embarrassment. Loose cannon, indeed.

END CHAPTER 14