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starkeristheendgame · 5 years ago

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I would love to read something about peter accidentally stealing a piece of Tony’s clothing without either of them noticing, but it’s something extremely valuable and everyone else (like maybe peters friends from collage or something) notice and are very confused. Would you write something like this? (It’s totally fine if not)

This was the actual cutest idea, and I loved writing this! I hope this is the kind of cute-awkward you were going for. Thank you sm for sending me this, honey! I’m an absolute sucker for clothes sharing. This begins as unest and is AU from AOU+. Peter is 18+

The first time it happened, it was a slate grey shirt with silver-leaf decor, the front brazenly depicting a boy with a wolf’s muzzle face. There was an oil stain on the right sleeve where it fluttered about his bicep, and a charred hole on the hem where Tony had skewered it with a soldering iron. Peter had just lost his own shirt to a grinding machine, and had accepted the shirt that Tony had offered him thoughtlessly, promising to bring it back on his next visit.

Tony had waved him off and told him not to worry - The shirt was old and he had plenty others. Peter had thought nothing of it, not bothering to change as he collapsed into his bed. He had an early lecture in the coming morning, and he’d overstayed at Tony’s. Again.

He still lacked any thought on it when he awoke to his final alarm shrieking at him insistently, and he scrambled out of bed, nearly swallowing his toothbrush as he floundered to get ready. He skid to a halt in front of his bedroom mirror, eyed what he’d gone to sleep in, and deemed it acceptable. The shirt was clean - He’d only worn it to bed that night, and his jeans surprisingly matched it well.

It was like any other morning, until he’d been in line at the lunch hall for a coffee, and the girl walking past had stuttered to a halt, eyes wide. “Oh, my, God. Is that a Yohji Yamamoto?!” She’d squealed, eyes wide and round, and Peter had blinked across at her, sleep-dead and at a loss. “That thing is like, a thousand dollars! Its limited edition!” She continued, and Peter glanced down, ready to defend his piece of shit shirt.

Except.

It wasn’t just a piece of shit, ratty old shirt, was it? No, because it had come from billionaire Tony Stark’s closet. He cringed, lip curling as he stared at the shimmering silver pattern. Ah, fuck. How could he explain this? Several people had noticed her loud speech and were staring, curiosity piqued. And, why wouldn’t they? Scruffy Peter Parker in a thousand dollar shirt.

“I don’t think so” he barked nervously, before his brain had even come up with a plausible explanation. “I got this at a thrift store! Yeah. A thrift store, so. I mean, if it looks like some fancy shirt, its definitely a knock off” he laughed nervously, clamouring desperately for his coffee before he cast her an awkward smile and shuffled off, fleeing the lunch hall.

Luckily, he had an old zip-up in his bag, and he tugged it on over the shirt. It meant he boiled in his last classes, but nobody else asked him about his thousand dollar shirt. He drove home with the windows down and the AC on, and when he pulled up outside his apartment, he paused, and rummaged for his phone. It took almost ten minutes to find the shirt he was wearing, but when he did, he sucked in air through his teeth and shoved his phone away. Yikes. A thousand? Closer to two thousand.

The second time it happened, Peter had been to breakfast with Tony before classes. The older man had presented him with a beautiful custom Rolex, complete with deep, red rubies and rich blue kyanite. An early birthday present Tony had said, clasping it around his wrist with a warm, satisfied smirk. Peter’s birthday was months away, but Tony wouldn’t hear anything of it.

He’d grown so used to the weight of it in between eating and talking that he’d completely forgotten about it by the time he arrived at his morning study session, sinking down at the library table and pulling out his books. MJ was already there, and Peter offered her a shy smile as he kicked his bag under the table. They were tentative friends after getting to know each other near the end of their final year, and though Peter had outgrown his initial crush, he was still glad she’d gone to the same college as him and Ned.

He was just pulling out a pen from his case when MJ shifted. “Hey, nerd. What’s on your wrist?” And Peter’s heart seized then skipped when he cast a careless glance aside and watched the sharp halogen lights glint off the brand new gold and precious stones. His first thought was ‘aw, fuck. Not again’ and then his second was ‘how the fuck can I explain a Rolex that costs more than this building?’

“Fake!” He yelped, and ducked his head when a sprightly girl two tables across leaned forwards to glare at him. “I mean, y’know. My Aunt...Bought it for me. Thought she’d found a real Rolex on Ebay for $40, y’know? Ha. Some people” he coughed to clear his throat and to hide the fact that his voice had risen several pitches before he reached for his wrist, tugging his sleeve down over it.

When he looked up, she levelled him with a flat, unimpressed look that clearly stated she thought he was a few marbles short. He spent the rest of the study session twitchy and tense, and she spent the rest of it reading and glancing at him now and then like she was afraid he might start frothing at the mouth. When the hour was finally over, Peter ran back to his car, wrapped the watch in several soft tissues from the restroom and hid it in the glove compartment.

MJ didn’t mention the lack of watch, but she did pointedly stare at his arm for the rest of the day. It made him prickly and jumpy; a thousand worst-case scenarios running through his mind. Nobody knew he was Spiderman, and since joining college he’d done his best to keep the ‘Stark Industries Internship’ thing on the down-low. That was relatively easy, since most people hadn’t believed it in the first place. As for Spiderman - The only people who knew were May and Ned. He kind of intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He was vigilant then, for the next few weeks. He inspected himself carefully before getting out of his car at college, and he always made sure to remind Ned to remind him any time he wore anything that a struggling college student wouldn’t. All in all, after three months had passed with only a few close calls, he felt pretty secure.

That was, naturally, his doom.

But! In his defence, Tony Stark had kissed him. On the mouth. And not by accident, either. One moment Peter was talking about his Chemistry class and how the next Tony Stark was kissing him, lips warm and a little chapped, stubble pricking at the corners of his mouth.

They'd kissed for almost an hour after that, gripping onto each other, learning what made the other twitch and moan. Tony liked his lip sucked and Peter liked his hair pulled and it had led to eager grinding and groping. Peter had never been more loathe to leave, but he had dinner plans with Aunt May that night.

Their first kiss had evolved into kissing every time they were together, chaste and shy or filthy and wet like teenagers. Groping turned into Mr. Stark jacking him off and sucking him down, to Peter sucking him in return and to slowly working their way towards Peter getting done up the ass for the first time (four times, actually. Peter was insatiable and Tony had been more than happy to oblige).

It had been a Thursday night, though, and Peter had a mid-day lecture on Friday. His own shirt had been used as a rag from the first and third rounds, so he shyly accepted when Tony offered him an old, soft black one. It was ratty and stained and he thought nothing of wearing it to his lecture, scribbling notes furiously and paying attention because they had a test in two weeks time.

Towards the end of the lecture, he felt something brush at itch at the back of his neck, and he twisted to find the girl from the lunch hall sat directly behind him, her arm retreating. He blinked in surprise; he hadn't even recognised that she was in his class at the time.

"You had fluff caught on your shirt" she noted casually, though her eyes were narrowed suspiciously. Peter gave her a weak smile, mouthed 'thanks' and turned back around.

It was relatively forgotten until he was done for the day, paused near the doors to try and find his power bank. Footsteps echoed through the hall, and he looked up they stopped near him. Standing there was the girl from his class, and he offered her a warm but puzzled smile. "Hi?" He asked after a pause where she simply stared at him with folded arms.

"I know your secret" she announced, and he nearly dropped his bag, grumbling to catch it as his heart ticked up. That could mean anything - Tony? Spiderman? Even just the spider bite could be disastrous. He'd have scientists experimenting on him and then they'd know and-

"Secret?" He barked out a little hysterically, straightening. "What secret? I don't have any. Not any worth exploiting, anyway. I mean, I peed in the pool once, but I was six and I-"

"I know how you're getting such expensive clothes" she interrupted, arching a brow at him, though the corner of her mouth had ticked up into a smile.

"What? Oh, the shirt the other month? I told you, it was a knockoff" Peter stuttered nervously, and she gestured.

"You're wearing a Gucci shirt right now".

"What? No I'm not. Have you seen this thing?" He asked, plucking at the hem, even as he died a little inside. Was it too much to ask for Tony to shop at Target once in a while?

"Well, it's in horrible condition, but I looked at the tag in class. I know how you're getting all this expensive stuff" she repeated, and Peter twitched a little, glancing around the hall before shuffling out of the way a little.

"I want in" she added, following him, and he paused, blinking across at her while his coherent thoughts stuttered to a stop.

"Uh."

"I want you to teach me".

"...Uh…"

She rolled her eyes at him and stepped closer, lowering her voice. "I know you're a Sugar Baby, Parker. There's no other way you could afford all this stuff, and nobody puts Gucci in a thrift store. I want you to teach me how to do it. Show me what website you used or whatever".

Peter stared at the wall over her shoulder, his thoughts effectively flat-lined. Sugar Baby? Website? Teach her?

"Listen, I don't know who your guy is or how you did it, but clearly, he's minted. And sharing. I'm only able to work part-time around my studies, and I want in. I'm not gonna tell anyone, I'm not a bitch, I just want to be able to afford stuff" her voice softened at the end, and Peter shuffled uncomfortably, trying to kick his brain into gear.

On one hand, she thought he was fucking an old guy for ratty Gucci shirts. On the other, this was the perfect out for all his mishaps. He considered it, head tilting as the corners of his mouth dipped down, and then he nodded.

"Sure, why not".

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker fic #starker cu #starker ncc #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider fic #ironspider au #starker au #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #sie fics

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meat-husband · 5 years ago

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Can we get some hcs for showering with the slashers? Somehow gonna coax Jason and Brahms into doing so XD. (Maybe Billy and Stu as well, separate please💕💕) thank you!!

I don’t write for the Ghost bois, but I’ll do everyone else! Every single one of them are stinky boys so you’ve got your work cut out for you trying to make them presentable.

Brahms

• He might pretend to be a little boy, but he’s an adult and he knows how to wash himself, even if you can’t tell by looking at him. Despite that, he’s going to continue playing the bratty boy and refuse any and all attempts to clean him up.

• If you want to get him into any water at all, you’re going to have to compromise, and it’s not going to come out in your favor. He’ll accept a shower, or even better, a bath, so long as you join him - and most importantly, do all the work.

• Once you get him for the first time, it’s easier to talk him into it again because he loves being taken care of. He’s still going to kick up a little bit of a fuss, but he’s perfectly happy about it once you get him in.

• You can’t get away with just a quick rinse down either, if you’re doing this he expects the full treatment. He won’t lift a finger to do anything himself either, so you’re going to be the one cleaning him up.

• He’ll cooperate as long as you’re willing to put up with doing everything for him, so it’s really up to you when he takes a shower. It’s a little frustrating to have all your hard work ruined when he sneaks back into the dirty walls, but at least he was clean for a few moments.

• He isn’t about to leave you alone to let you have a bath or shower on your own either, so anytime you try such a thing he’ll find a way inside and invite himself in. It’s the only time he’ll do it without being told to, but it means you get absolutely no privacy or time to yourself.

Huddled under the warm spray of water, you close your eyes and let yourself enjoy the heat, soaking up as much as you can. The day had been another dreary, cold mess of rain and wind, rattling the windows and chilling the air. You weren’t ready for summer to leave so quickly, but the weather was changing all the same, and the warm water was the easiest way to get some feeling back into your limbs. A bath would have been preferred, but Brahms had inevitably caught wind of your plans for an afternoon spa day, promptly inviting himself in and vetoing the idea of a bath. He wanted a shower instead, pouting and whining until you relented, and although you were annoyed at the interruption, it was nice not having to drag him into the water like a yowling cat.

You let yourself enjoy the warmth for a moment longer before finally stepping away, pushing wet hair and water out of your eyes. While this had originally been meant for you, now that Brahms was here you knew he’d get impatient if you didn’t get to work. Glancing around, you pick up a bottle and snap it open, upturning it over your open palm.

“I don’t like that one.”

You pause, tilting the bottle to stop the liquid pouring out, and frown at him. Brahms is lurking at the opposite end of the shower, still untouched by the water and leaving dark smudges on the wet tile at his feet. The mask is very firmly still in place, and you know better than to ask for it’s removal despite the itching desire to rinse the damn thing off and clean his face up for once.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “It’s the apple one, I thought you liked that one?”

You turn the bottle to show him the label, but he shakes his head without even looking at it. You sigh, realizing that this isn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

“Alright, which one do you want me to use?”

Brahms shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms and huffing. You pick up the next bottle, offering it to him until he snubs that one as well, and the next, and you start to think that nothing you suggest is going to be up to his standards.

“Well, if you can’t pick one, then I’m using the first one,” you insist, watching him tense when you don’t continue to try and appease him. “I like it when you smell like apples.”

You see him go still, watching as you pour a handful of the scented liquid into your palm and look up at him expectantly. The small compliment seems to be enough to win him over, thankfully, and he shuffles over the tile until he’s half under the water, head turned away to avoid the spray. You give him a smile, genuinely glad that you’ve managed to bypass the first bump in the road without incident.

“Thank you, Brahms.”

You use your empty hand to help soak the water over his skin first, running your fingers over his shoulders and the thick hair on his chest. He tenses a little under your touch, head tilted down to watch your face as you work, but doesn’t protest further. The water runs dark for a moment, the dust and sweat of the last week finally washing away as you smooth your hand over his skin.

“Stay out of the walls tonight,” you request, spreading the soap over both hands and running them over his shoulders. “You’re not getting into my bed with dusty clothes otherwise.”

It’s a prime opportunity for a tantrum, and in any other situation he would probably protest and whine, but he only gives you a short nod, leaning down to press the nose of the mask against the top of your head. You don’t know what has made him suddenly decide to be cooperative, but you’re glad for it anyways, feeling his stomach tighten when your hands drag lower over his abdomen. Absently, you run your hands up and down, working at your task without really thinking about it - you had done it enough times that it was nearly automatic now.

Michael

• You’ve never caught him doing it, but you know he’s used your shower before because he always leaves a big mess. It’s a rare occurrence, though, and he mostly just stays dirty - get used to finding suspiciously dark stains everywhere.

• Normally, there’s nothing you could do to tempt him into taking a shower with you if he really didn’t want to, but the only thing that would really tip the scale is the mask. If he doesn’t want to take it off in front of you, you’re just going to have to deal with him leaving bloodstains on everything he touches.

• If he’s comfortable enough to remove the mask, then he’ll take advantage of any shower you decide to take and simply slip in and take over. You were trying to wash your hair, but Michael is here now so you get to stand in the cold corner and wait for him to finish using all the hot water.

• If you want any soap to touch his skin, you’ve got to be the one putting it there because he’ll just stand under the water for a while and call it good. It’s easy enough to do while he’s just standing there, and you find it amusing to use the most overbearingly awful scented soap you can find.

• You’ve got to fuss a little, but most of the time he’ll allow you to wash his hair if you really want to. No help is going to be given though, so if you’re not tall enough to reach without him bending down then he’s just going to let you struggle.

• If you’re really persistent, he’ll let you quickly towel dry his hair, but you’re not getting anything like a hairdryer or styling product near him. His hair will be horribly tangled and messy, but he won’t let you do anything about it.

Pressed against the cold tile, you shiver. Wet hair sticks to your neck and back, arms crossed over your chest to try and retain what little heat you can. Goosebumps run up and down your arms and you glare with jealousy at the thick steam pouring off of Michael in waves. He was stood directly under the shower head, wet hair in his face and skin pink from the heat and pressure, and you were ready for him to finish up and move. The hot water falling so close to you only makes you feel the cold even more, and you think of simply getting out and leaving, but you don’t want to be chased out of your own shower.

“Hurry up!” You whine, shifting as close as you dare. You know that any attempts to sneak in and soak up some of his warmth with only get you a sharp elbow in the ribs, so you lurk on the edge of the water and wait impatiently for him to decide if you’re going to be allowed to actually finish the shower you had started.

You shuffle from foot to foot, a scowl on your face. Why couldn’t he simply do this on his own time, which he had plenty of, instead of interrupting your showers? It seemed like that was the only time he bothered with it now, and you were almost certain that it was only because he knew it annoyed you. You didn’t mind sharing a shower with him, you actually relished the chance to freely touch his face and hair, but that wasn’t how he did things.

“Finally,” you mutter to yourself, slipping in next to him when he turns to the side, half facing you. “I thought you were going to let me freeze to death!”

Michael pauses to push the hair from his eyes, but you ignore him in favor of trying to fit as much of your body under the warm spray as you can manage. It almost stings against your chilled skin, but you’re so glad for the warmth that you don’t care. When you feel a sharp tap on the side of your arm, you know what he wants and you sigh.

“You can do that yourself.”

Your tone is snippy, but the words are barely out of your mouth before a hand is on your arm, wrenching it away from you. A thrum of panic flows through you for a moment, eyes snapping to him, but he only pulls your arm away from your chest, firmly pressing a little bottle of soap into your captive hand. Michael looks at you expectantly.

“Okay, okay,” you relent, pulling your hand away from him and snapping open the bottle. “Not like you’re the one who interrupted my shower or anything.”

You might complain, but there is no hesitation to follow his wordless command. Eagerly, you slip your hands over his sides, leaving a trail of frothing soap over his skin. It’s rare enough for him to allow you so much contact, let alone ask for it himself, that you aren’t going to push your luck and risk him not letting you do it.

Michael shows no sign that he cares one way or the other, but you think he must enjoy it somehow to request it from you in the first place. You don’t hide your own enthusiasm, smiling up at him and being maybe a little more thorough than you strictly had to be. Reaching up as far as you can only barely puts your hands over his shoulders, but you press flush against his chest and stand on tiptoes to swipe your hands over them anyways. You tug at the ends of his hair, tilting his head a little as you pull, but he’s too tall to reach and you have to give up on any thoughts of combing your fingers through his wet hair, knowing he won’t lean down to help you.

“You’re lucky I’m so nice to you.” You huff, ignoring the fact that you have run out of soap and continuing to work your hands down his chest.

Bubba

• He can shower all he likes, two seconds in the summer heat will ruin any efforts you’ve made to keep him clean. Still, he isn’t going to pass up the offer if you invite him to join you.

• There’s no such thing as hot water here, so it’s cold showers only. It’s not too awful for the most part, but it’s not quite as relaxing as a nice warm shower can be.

• He insists on being the one to pamper you instead of the other way around, and won’t let you even consider doing anything for yourself. Once he has you soaped up and clean, he’ll bask in the attention when you return the favor.

• He might want to take care of you first, but he really relishes having you fuss over him so much. He’s as cooperative as possible, letting you turn him around or leaning down to reach wherever you need to.

• He’s never ready for it to end, and he’ll beg for just five more minutes as long as you’ll let him. It’s the only time he really asks for anything, so you usually give in until you’ve been standing under cold water for half an hour.

• He’s a perfect gentleman and will keep his hands to himself no matter how excited he gets. Once you’re out, however, it’s free game.

“Okay, all done,” you announce, fumbling with the faucet. “Time to get out.”

A whine, high pitched and loud, echoes from behind you, a grabby hand on your hip pulling you back gently. Another hand covers yours, patting it in a mock slap to stop you from turning off the water. You can’t help but roll your eyes a little - this is the second time you’ve attempted to bring bathtime to an end, and you had been thwarted the first time in a similar manner.

“It’s late, don’t you wanna go to bed?”

Apparently not, you think, feeling him reach for you. Arms around your waist tug you further backwards, into the lukewarm spray of water, until your back is firmly pressed against the chest behind you. Bubba hunches down over you, resting his chin on the top of your head, making contented little noises into your hair. He rocks slowly from side to side, and you’re sure he’d stand here all night if you let him, cooing into your ear and soaking up the refreshing, cool water. It was nice, but you had spent most of the last fifteen minutes doing exactly this, and you were ready to get into bed as soon as you could. It didn’t escape you that this was something he could do just as comfortably laying in bed either, where you desperately wanted to be right now.

“It’s late,” you repeat, feeling him tighten his hold when you try to squirm away. “You want your brother bangin’ on the door, screamin’ about using up all the water?”

You get your hand on the faucet again, but this time Bubba simply picks you up, lifting you by the waist and turning around so that you can’t get to the faucet without going through him. It’s your turn to whine now, slapping lightly at the arms around you in protest. You hear him giggle in response, kissing quickly at your wet hair as you wiggle in his grasp.

“Bubba Sawyer!” You scold him, but you can tell by his laughter that nothing you say now is going to be taken seriously. There’s a smile on your face even as you fuss at him, and once you’ve exhausted your protests, you sigh.

“Alright, just ten more minutes - then we’re gettin’ out, you hear me?”

Thomas

• Not a big fan of showers at all. He washes his hands before dinner, and that’s about the best you can expect from him. He’s just going to get dirty again anyways, so he doesn’t really bother with it.

• Going to need a lot of convincing to get in himself, mostly because he has to take off the masks - you want him clean and that includes his face. He’ll whine and moan, standing next to the tub and watching you, but eventually he’ll give in.

• There’s a lot of cleaning to do. Nearly every inch of him is coated in dirt and sweat, and not a small amount of blood, under his nails and in his hair. He’s very tense at first, but he’ll slowly relax as you focus on getting him clean.

• Most of the supplies you’re working with are travel sized bottles from stolen luggage, so you go through quite a lot of them in the process. He’s always loved you playing with his hair, so washing it for him is the highlight of the event for him.

• He’s twitchy and impatient, but he’ll sit still long enough for you to do what you need to. He’s ready to bolt the moment you declare him clean, but you can convince him to stay by asking nicely for him to do the same for you.

• He learns to love it once you get to work, but he’s like a dog fresh out of the bath afterwards - never going back in there, no matter how good it felt, and he’s probably going to go straight back to rolling in dirt. It will be a while before you’re able to get him to do that again, and it’s never any easier to talk him into it.

It had taken longer than you would have liked, with plenty of pleading and whispered promises, but you had finally gotten what you wanted. The small bathroom was crowded with just the two of you occupying it, the old claw foot tub taking up most of the space. The pipes rattled as the brown water started up, matching the tone of the whines coming from behind you. Letting the water run to wait out the murky tint, you half turned to look at him over your shoulder, a little uncertain if he would actually follow through with the tentative agreement this time.

“You promised, Tommy,” you remind him, voice soft and low. “It ain’t gonna hurt, I just wanna take care of you.”

Your words don’t seem to calm him at all, his shoulders hunched and head downturned, eyes darting over the floor nervously. He’s already naked, clothes in a bloody pile on the floor along with your own, but you know that isn’t what has him on edge. He glances up when you turn to face him, but looks away again when he sees you start to approach, a worried moan echoing in the small room.

“You remember last time, you liked it once you got in. And it’s only for a little bit.”

He’s tense under your hand when you reach up to stroke his shoulder, but you don’t let that deter you from sliding your hand up to tug lightly at the ties of the mask. He jerks away a little, then stops himself, forcing his hands back down to his sides.

“You gonna let me take it off?”

He doesn’t give an answer, but rocks slightly in place as though he’s waiting for an opportunity to bolt. Whispering words of comfort, you keep your hand on the mask and slowly work your fingers through the ties that dangle over his shoulder. Your first few pulls at the laces are unchallenged, but when you move to the side, reaching up to follow the ties up the back of the mask, Thomas flinches away, pulling his head back.

“It’s alright,” you say soothingly, letting go. “Why don’t you take it off instead? I’m gonna go ahead and get in, you just come join me when you’re ready.”

You hope that giving him space will work, but you’re not expecting much this time. It had been a fight to get him washed up last time, and everyone else had long since given up making him do anything he didn’t want to, so you were on your own when it came to this. You knew most of his reluctance was due to the removal of his mask, but it was necessary - you had tried letting him keep them on, but the water only ruined the already rotten flesh, and it had been worse to have him realize that his face was beyond repair than to go through the struggle of just taking it off.

When you finally step into the lukewarm water, listening to the pipes groan and heave under the stress, you don’t pull the curtain closed. There’s still hope that he’ll follow through, so you leave it half open, a gentle invitation to join you if he wants to. You wait for a few moments, wetting your hair and enjoying the brief respite from the heat of the house, but when there is no sign that Thomas is going to give in, you stop waiting. It’s not the first time you’ve failed in this particular task, reaching for the soap with a sigh.

You go through the motions quickly, wanting to hurry up and get out so that you can let Thomas get back to work. You could get him changed into clean clothes, at least, and you knew he wouldn’t complain if you tried to simply wipe off the worst of the dirt and blood. It was better than nothing, you decide, stepping back under the water to rinse yourself, but the little ‘I told you so’ gleam in Hoyt’s eyes was going to sting all the same.

A nervous moan, low and deep, startles you. You bring a hand up to wipe at your eyes, hurrying to dry them, and hold the other out for him. He had sounded close and you didn’t want to miss the opportunity to coax him in. Rubbing at your eyes, you finally open them just as he’s reaching out for your hand, leaving dirty streaks on your clean skin.

You want to speak, but you’re afraid it will scare him off, so you keep your mouth closed and eyes away from his face. The mask is gone, and you’re thankful that he had actually taken it off, but you know better than to look up at him. What you can see just from the edge of your vision looks awful, and you hope that most of the flakey redness is only from the fresh mask. When he finally steps in, looming over you and trembling, the rush of relief that hits you makes your own limbs shake as well.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you murmur, leaning in to press your cheek against his chest in a half hug. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

Jason

• Left to his own devices, anything the rain didn’t wash off would just stay there. That would be bad enough for anyone else, but a lot of the mess he tracks home is significantly more bloody than most, so he’s pretty dirty.

• There’s no coaxing needed so long as you’re involved, he’s happy to get in the shower with you if you ask. He’s probably not going to do it on his own, but he doesn’t mind if you want to clean him up every so often.

• Honestly, other than washing away the blood, there’s not much you can do for him. He’s already on the soggy side without being in the shower, and the strange, earthy smell can’t be covered up by any body wash you’ve tried.

• It might not be necessary, but he’ll still enjoy it if you scrub him down anyways. He’ll even sit so you can reach his shoulders, and it’s probably a good idea to give the mask a little rinse while he’s there.

• He isn’t going to let you do all the work, though, and he makes sure you get the same treatment once you’ve finished with him. It takes him a few times to catch on to which product is used for what purpose, and he always uses way too much, but he’s adamant that you be taken care of too.

• If you’re standing in front of him, naked and dripping wet, he’s not going to be able to keep his hands to himself. You can make him be patient and wait till you’re both cleaned up, but he’s going to be very thorough when it comes to drying you off.

When you wake up, tucked into a warm bed with the gray light of predawn filtering through the windows, you blink sleepily for a moment, then wiggle back down into the blankets and close your eyes again. Maybe something had woken you, or perhaps your body was so used to waking early for work that even the lack of an alarm hadn’t stopped your brain from getting you up. But there was nothing better than waking up only to realize you could go back to sleep with no consequences. If the sun isn’t up yet then you know it’s too early by far for you to be awake, so you drift back off, happy in the knowledge that you had nowhere to be today other than home.

You jolt awake again only a few moments later, the gentle shaking of your shoulder tearing you back out of a comfortable sleep. Looking around with half closed eyes, you immediately spot the problem - Jason is leaning over you, mask inches from your face and a big hand on your shoulder. He gives you another shake when you relax back into the pillows, groaning.

“It’s my day off,” you complain, trying to dislodge his hand. “Let me sleep in!”

The next shake is firmer, a warning that you had better get up on your own before he has to intervene. This kind of persistence was great on days when you were slow to wake, keeping you from being late to work and still getting in the morning routine you needed to be ready for the day before you left. It was not so great when you had the rare chance to sleep through the morning, which was apparently not allowed even on days off.

“C’mon, let me sleep,” you whine, rolling around and gripping as much of the blankets as you could hold. “We can do this later.”

Perhaps this trick had worked when it was only a stern parent trying to get a lazy child out of bed, but it didn’t matter how tightly you wrapped yourself around the blankets. You know what happens next, but that doesn’t stop Jason from scooping you up, tugging the blankets from your hands in one swift movement despite your attempts to hold on. The cold arms around you now are no substitute for the warm bed you’re leaving behind, and you glare at him as best you can with messy hair in your face and eyes still droopy with sleep. He seems unaffected by your ire, holding you against his chest and walking quickly to the bathroom, one hand coming up to cup your cheek and press you closer.

You can see he’s already prepared, two towels and a change of clothes for each of you laid over the little counter, shower curtains pulled open and ready. Your brush is laid out next to the clothes, a small assortment of hair bands and clips set out for you to pick from. It’s hard to stay grumpy when you see how much effort he’s put into it, noticing the line of bottles and products neatly arranged in the shower. When he sets you down, carefully lowering you until your feet are firmly under you, you can’t help but smile.

“You get a pass this time ‘cause you’re cute,” you say, waving a finger as if warning him. “But I’m going right back to sleep after this, okay?”

Jason doesn’t protest against your statement, but there’s no slow nod or huff of agreement. He tilts his head to the side, looking amused, and you know you’re going to have another fuss about that when the shower is over. At the very least you were going to have an in depth talk about the merits of sleeping in and not waking up before noon unless you have to.

#slashers #brahms heelshire #michael myers #bubba sawyer #thomas hewitt #jason voorhees #slasher x reader #gender neutral reader #some of the drabbles are short just cause im tired of trying to make them longer #and ive had this almost finished for days

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ad1thi · 5 years ago

Text

four weddings and a funeral

this is very very fluffy, and then very angsty you have been forewarned

@theavengays Stars, this is for you

The first place they get married is Amsterdam.

Tony shows up in a three piece suit to Edwards, and finagles with Rhodey's superiors until he gets extremely annoyed and simply says "If you don't give Private Rhodes leave, I won't give you anything"

Things go pretty smoothly after that, and Rhodey is on the jet within the hour. Tony crowds him into the sofa, straddling his waist and whispers, "Lighten up sour patch we're getting married," before nipping at his neck

Rhodey's so surprised that he forgets to be mad about Tony using his considerable leverage and tugs on Tony's chin until he's facing Rhodey completely

"Say that again," he says softly; not letting up his hold until Tony sighs and starts talking

"Netherlands legalised same sex marriage yesterday. We're getting married sour patch"

Rhodey moves his hands until they're intertwined in Tony's hair; tugging softly and leaning up to capture his lips once, twice, a thousand times because they're getting married

Tony's still laughing as he spreads him out against the couch, to keyed up to shift them to the bed, but he looks up at Rhodey with such unabashed fondness that Rhodey doesn't even try to shut up- just focuses on turning his laughs into gasps and moans

Later, when they're curled up in each other- limbs entangled; Rhodey moves his chin from where its resting on Tony's head and says "that's a horrible way to propose, I want a re-do"

Tony turns to him, eyes bright and replies, "What makes you think this is your first wedding?"

and Rhodey laughs until he gets a stitch; and spends the rest of the journey showing Tony just how much he loves him

When news reaches Iraq that Massachusetts is the first state to legalise gay marriage, Rhodey cashes in all his pending leave and gets 10 days off.

When he touches down in Logan, Tony is already there- and the jet is covered in heart shaped decoratives.

"You realise that we aren't flying anywhere right? We can't fly around Boston and rappel down in MIT, we're going to normal way; by bus"

Predictably, Tony shudders against him; and turns to Rhodey with his lip jutting out "Please don't subject my derriere to public transport, I'm too rich for this"

He nips at the offending lip and whispers, "Don't worry- you can sit on my lap"

They pull it off splendidly, a bit of slurring and swaying and everyone is convinced that Tony is just drunk and overly physical- instead of sober and just affectionate with his husband

They get married at the chapel just outside MIT, and the pastor knows them well enough that Tony doesn't even have to buy his silence

Rhodey allows himself 10 minutes of close contact with his husband before they keep careful distance; just because Massachusetts has legalised it doesn't mean DADT isn't still in effect

The distance lasts until they make it to the penthouse suite, and Rhodey slams Tony up against the door; latching onto his neck immediately and rubbing the back of his palm against his hardening dick

"Happy honeymoon husband," he breathes against his skin before dropping to his knees, and Tony just moans in response

The day DADT gets repealed, Rhodey goes up to General Macweather and says, “I’m gay.”

To his credit, General Macweather just blinks and says, “so you’ve been fucking that Stark boy?”

Rhodey bites down all cutting responses and nods once, “Sir as I understand it, its pretty normal to fuck your husband”

General Macweather just raises a single eyebrow, and Rhodey is genuinely terrified that the general can hear his heart pounding

“I assume you’re here to ask for leave,”he says finally; and Rhodey just about holds in a sigh of relief

“Sir yes sir,” he says and spreads his legs slightly so he’s standing in parade rest

“You get 7 days off at the end of the month,” General Macweather says, “but if, and only if you hold off telling your squadron for another week.”

“Sir?” this time Rhodey doesn’t keep the bite out of his voice

“Pipe down Lt, there’s been a poll going around the base ever since Washington started making noise about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell and I stand to lose a good 3k if you come out this week”

“You’ve,” Rhodey’s throat is dry, “you’ve been betting on my sexuality Sir?”

“The whole damn world knows you’re gay Lt Rhodes, you only got to spend 5 minutes around you and that Stark boy to know he’s got you wrapped around his pinky finger”

“Now keep your trap shut and don’t cost me three thousand, and you can leave at the end of the month to go marry him all over again”

There’s a brief second before he’s dismissed, but Rhodey can feel the weight of their secret pulling him down every second he’s not near Tony. There’s this newfound urgency now that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been repealed, this newfound desperation to let the world know that Tony is his

He touches down in New York, where Tony has temporarily relocated so that he can fulfill his desire to build a massive Tower and fuck up the Manhattan skyline forever, and he doesn’t even think; he gathers Tony in his arms- wrapping Tony’s legs around his waist and slants his head up to kiss him

He’s barely aware of the cameras and the media and the insane amount of coverage this must be getting; too caught up in the feeling of Tony against him, pressing smiles on his lips

“Lets get married,” he whispers, setting Tony down and pressing their foreheads together, “lets have a huge crazy society wedding; marry me again Tony Stark”

and Tony kisses him and says, “Always”

After Carol brings him back from Space, Rhodey can’t seem to leave Tony’s side. He’s been through the routine of losing Tony so many times that its almost an old trick, but Rhodey couldn’t stop thinking of all the nights he’d had to wake Tony up because of this very nightmare and there was some finality to it that terrified him

He uses any excuse to touch Tony, to hold his hand, to balance him by placing his palm on the small of his back, to curl his arms around him on the couch; until one day Tony snaps

“I’m not a fragile doll!” he yells and Rhodey’s arms are stretched out in an aborted motion to hold him that Tony’s slipped out of, “so you need to stop treating me like one”

They stay like that for several seconds, Rhodey on the couch with his arms outstretched, and Tony, standing, with his arms crossed against his chest in defiance

“I can’t - ” Rhodey wets his lips, “The six months you were in Space were the most terrifying six months of my life. I need to touch you, to remind myself that you’re still here”

Tony’s gaze softens, and he comes closer to press a delicate kiss on the corner of Rhodey’s mouth

“You know,” Tony murmers, “its been about 20 years since our first wedding? What do you say we go full camp and have a vows renewal ceremony?”

Its a small affair, and Tony debates whether or not to call who’s left of the Avengers; but he’s not seen Steve since he collapsed in front of him in a fit of rage; and his wedding didn’t really seem like the time to rehash all that

They call Happy and Pepper, and Pepper’s eccentric uncle Morgan because Tony absolutely adores him; and the whole thing is over in 30 minutes

They kiss and everybody throws flowers, and if Rhodey turns away to hide his tears in the crook of Tony’s neck; nobody says a thing

They’re lounging in the backyard, neck-ties pulled off and sleeves rolled up- lazily exchanging kisses when a black sedan pulls up

Steve and Natasha step out, and Tony tenses against Rhodey

They’re with Scott Lang, who everybody assumed had died in the Snap, but somehow survived and now has this crazy time travel idea

“Wait wait wait,” Rhodey says, looking up at Scott from where he’s sitting, “Are you telling me that your idea of time travel is based on Back to the Future?”

Scott nods, and Tony doesn’t even try to suppress an eye roll

“The answer’s no Cap, I’m sorry”

Steve sighs, “Tony I get it, and I’m happy for you, I really am. But this is a second chance?”

Tony looks up from where he’s curled against Rhodey’s chest, “I got my second chance right here Cap, can’t roll the dice on it”

Later, after they’ve left, Rhodey turns slightly and says, “It would be nice if your spiderkid were here for the next one”

“The next what sugarplum?”

“The next wedding. We’ve had about 4 now and we’ve never really had everyone attend. It’d be nice, get the whole family together; really celebrate us”

Tony just hums, “maybe for our 25th anniversary. We’ll get Pepper go wild”

They never have a fifth wedding

They never reach their 25th anniversary

There’s a thrum of power that surges through the battlefield, and the aliens froth and blend into the sky, dispersed into the wind; and even before he turns Rhodey knows what’s happened

He knows as he pushes the boots off the ground, soaring across the battlefield, looking; until he sees Tony- sagged against a boulder

He’s bleeding from his temple, half his body is charred, and there, clasped in his right hand; is the infinity gauntlet- frozen in a snap

He sets down lightly, flipping up the faceplate and bending down so he’s at eye-level

Tony’s eyes flail for a couple of seconds, glassy and unfocused until they zero in on him

General Macweather had once told him, Son, the battlefield is no place for tears, so Rhodey just smiles, cups Tony’s face as best he can and says “Its okay, you did good Tones”

Tony’s lips move ever so slightly, and his voice is barely a whisper, “love you,”

and Rhodey watches as the lights fade out of his eyes, and his chest rises and falls for the last time, and his head lols back

Rhodey watches, as his husband dies; and only once Tony’s body collapses within itself- falling against Rhodey; does Rhodey let himself cry

All around him, the men and women Rhodey has fought alongside, kneel

They kneel for their saviour, for the man who sacrificed everything

but Rhodey just cries, clutching onto his limp husband’s body like it will somehow bring him back to life

Fin

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

Text

CANONFIC: ...And A Partridge In A Pear Tree

—

10th of December

His glasses were almost fogging from the warm steam billowing up into his face as he took the mug from the other. Jo’s Super Secret Christmas Fun Time Drink as she called it was possibly the most Jo thing she had ever made for him, but Grey could not help but smile as the other relinquished the mug over to him and then sat her own down on the coffee table. He shifted his arm to the spare side of him to the back of the couch while the blonde clambered under the covers beside him and snuggled into his side. Her socked feet rubbed up against his own as she got comfortable before reaching for her own mug again.

“So,” he asked quietly, lifting the mug to his nose to sniff curiously at the drink. So far, Jo had made three different versions for him this year - and the smell of mint and white chocolate made him think perhaps this was the fourth variation. “What exactly is in this tonight?”

“If I told you, hun, it wouldn’t be a super secret would it?” “Perhaps that is true, but I don’t think I’d ever be able to make the exact same drink as yours even if I knew the secret-” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” “Well, I have a sneaking suspicion of what the real secret of it is.”

“Oh do you now. Mr Know-It-All?” Jo quipped back, an eyebrow raised up at him and taking a large gulp of her own drink. Grey didn’t bother to hide the smile at seeing the frothy milk caught on one corner of her lips, leaning in to kiss it away gently before the other giggled. “What is it then?”

“Why, it’s that there’s no fixed recipe. It’s only whatever takes your fancy and is made by you.” Grey grinned back at her, brushing his nose against the other’s for a second before shifting back again and taking a sip of his own drink - not at all surprised by the minty flavor as well as the thick, sweetness from the white chocolate he could taste coating his tongue. He could also see a light green marshmallow that looked very much homemade floating in the center of the drink as he sat it on the thick arm rest beside himself. “That, or the secret ingredient on top of this would be that it’s made with love or something.”

Grey found himself chuckling after a moment at the loud huff from the other, glancing out the side of his eye to see the pleased or embarrassed flush on the hunter’s cheeks as she sipped at her own drink as well.

“Okay, maybe you’re not entirely wrong.” Jo grumbled back, taking another long drink from her mug, before the tiniest twitch of her lips into a smirk at the froth appearing yet again on her lip. Grey couldn’t help it, kissing it away again with his own smirk. “Anyway, what were we watchin’ tonight, hun?”

“Thought we could watch one of those Christmas movies you love.” “…Love Actually?”

“Is all around? Yes I have heard of that song, pretty one.” Grey smiled slightly, shifting his weight and stretching his feet out to the coffee table and wrapping his arm around Jo’s shoulders and the blonde cuddled in closer, practically into his lap. There was a beat before the other gave a laugh and gave a gentle jab to his ribs with an elbow as he let out his own laugh in response. “Oh, you mean the movie? Yes, I did mean maybe that one.”

Jo gave him a wide grin at that, and as the other turned back to the TV, the shadow’s fingers found their way into her hair - stroking gently through the curls and waves - gentle as he could. The blonde had the movie up and started in a matter of minutes, and tipping her head back into his hands, Jo snuggled in closer against his side as the opening production company credits started.

“And by maybe you meant entirely. Regardless of if you didn’t.” Jo mumbled the words against his chest as she rested her head against him, tilting her head up to look at him. Grey found himself taking a moment before he could respond with a nod, drinking in the big brown eyes staring up at him and the soft smile on the other’s face. It was only the start of Winter but was well on the way to being the best season of the year with the many excuses for him to have a lap and arms full of gorgeous blonde with the cute oversized sweaters or his hoodies like she had for the last week and a half. “Unless you really didn’t.”

“No, pretty one, I’m happy with this choice - it’s so sweet at the end.” “Alan Rickman sucks though.” “He really does, but everyone else is lovely, right?”

Grey smiled to himself as he felt Jo’s head nod against his before she began babbling happily as the opening scene of the movie began about some bit or some song or some joke that she loved. It was the same every year, but it was one of the non-traditions that they’d formed over the years that he wouldn’t change for anything.

As the movie progressed, each of them commenting here and there - Jo sometimes breaking into song along with Bill Nighy at the Wet Wet Wet cover, Grey biting back tears at the playing of Bye Bye Baby and both of them hissing at the secretary when she ran an eye over Alan Rickman - they both sank further and deeper into the couch, the blanket and one another. By the time the little boy was learning to rock out on the drums, Jo’s sock covered calves were wrapped around his own and his hand had slipped down the gaping back of her sweater to stroke over the uninterrupted span of skin as they finished off their drinks.

“So, uh, this year-” Jo’s voice drew him out of his engagement in the movie, fingers stroking gently along her back as he made a ‘hmm’ noise back to her. “I was wonderin’ if the, uh, boys and Bobby could come ‘round?”

“The.. Winchester boys?” “Yeah, if Sam’n’Dean as well as Bobby could come by. They usually do it at Bobby’s if at all - but the boys are like..much further from there than here at the moment on some long hunt, and Bobby said, well suggested, that we could host instead maybe?”

Grey found himself blinking in surprise for a moment, tilting his head to the side before he let out a small breath. A house full of hunters for the holiday sounded like a potential recipe for disaster, however at the same time it would also be a house full of Jo’s family; something he found himself thinking sharply in surprise that perhaps it would be the first time in years that would be the case for the wide-eyed blonde as she looked up at him from his chest. That thought settled it for him immediately, fingers tangling in the curled ends of her hair as he nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, I’d like to see Sam for the holidays for sure-”

“And I’ll make everyone promise to follow our rules.” Jo looked back at him, rubbing her nose into his chest as soon as he’d agreed with a smile to him that would have been blinding if it were a light. Grey found himself chuckling slightly at the suggestion, well aware that if Jo was saying that - then there was no way it would be anything but. “I think they’ll all be stayin’ down at the motel over on fifth, and be around for Christmas Eve, Day and maybe New Years?”

“A Very Hunter Christmas?” Grey asked in return, raising an eyebrow at the other as he rubbed at her tightening shoulder. Jo gave a small laugh to that, nodding and tucking her face against his neck with a gentle kiss to the skin. “Well, guess we better go buy some kind of ham or turkey or something, right?”

Jo’s laugh was louder again, smiling up at him before wrapping an arm round his waist as she settled back into his arms. “Possibly. I’ll leave that choice up to you, hun. I’ve got some hunt next week and I should be back by the 20th to help with whatever you want to do.”

“Well, so long as you bake some cookies and desserts-” “Of course! Pie for sure!” “-then we shouldn’t have any issues. If you need any help on your hunt like an out or something-” “I’ll call right away.” “-I’ll be right there to you.”

“Of course, Grey.” Jo smiled back at him with a bemused look that he came to know was the same reaction he would get every time he checked up on her - but also it had shifted from a frustrated sigh and the smile to a bemused and loving smile instead. And as usual, she followed it up with a kiss to his cheek in response as well. “But I do expect to be back well before Christmas Eve.”

Grey shook his head slightly as the other settled back down into his chest as the Prime Minister began dancing through the house with a small giggle. The shadow smiled himself, rubbing his hand up and down her knit covered arm before adding quietly and teasingly, “You better be, or I’m going to come and finish it and bring you home right away.”

“You better make that a promise, hun.” The response was slightly sleepy sounding, and Grey found himself smiling as Jo snuggled into his arms with a quiet yawn and they both settled in for the rest of the movie, wrapped up in each other like every night so far that week. He would miss these moments the most, as he stroked his fingers through her hair as the movie rolled on, while she was away - but she always came back like she promised now. Jo always made it home to curl into his arms again soon enough.

—

15th of December

“God this time of year, man.”

“I know, I know - Christmas isn’t exactly either of our favorite times of year.” Sam replied, shrinking down slightly more in his barstool, shoulders slumped a little and lifting his beer for another sip. It really was true - they’d talked abut it for years how much the holiday season never quite sat well with them. There had been the horrible Christmas’ of their youth where John was gone and both boys were left alone; there were the crazy pagan gods, and ridiculous ghosts, and the way nothing would stop killing even for a few days to give them the time to enjoy themselves.

This year had seemed to be set up to follow the same pattern up until a text message a few days earlier and then a follow up call from the grizzly old hunter to confirm their movements that perhaps they might finally see a good Christmas once and for all - strangely enough at a little house in Duluth with a grouchy old hunter, a perky blonde and a monster of all things to make Christmas possibly good. Sam shook his head of the idea, finishing off his beer with another pull before he sat the empty bottle down on the bar top.

“Well, can’t be worse than last years.” Dean replied with a shrug and a roll of his eyes looking back across at him. “That old lady ghost?”

“Eurgh.” Sam pulled a face in response - that had been a hell of a week trying to work out what the heck the haunting actually was, the woman was so specific and gave all the calling cards of witchcraft rather than a haunting up until the cold spot that Dean had passed through right before he started coughing up blood and teeth. Thankfully they had only been in Dallas for the last week on a shifter case instead this year; a pretty weird shifter though going around as multiple Mall Santa’s and then following the richest family’s home to rob and kill. “Don’t even remind me of that hunt for the next…. you know what, decade. Don’t bring her up for another decade.”

“You know what, Sammy?” The older one chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the other for a moment before he tilted his head to the side as a redhead bartender approached to take their next drink orders. Sam bit down on his own eye roll as he watched his brother’s face shift into the charming and charismatic look that meant Sam would be likely to be driving Dean’s Baby back to the motel and not see the other until the next morning. “You take the room key and sort out pack up, and I won’t talk about old lady Hofster for as long as you want.” Tossing back his drink back, Dean gave the other a pat on the shoulder before adding. “Don’t wait up for me, right?”

“Right..” Sam gave a hard sigh before he held out a hand, taking the keys to the Impala from the other as Dean gave a brow waggle and slid off of his bar stool to head towards the end of the bar the woman had moved towards - polishing glasses and slicing lemons, but eyes following the path of the hunter as he approached his target in a way that Sam was not at all unfamiliar with seeing. Giving a deep sigh, the hunter ran his finger tip over the top of the glass lip of his beer, as he tapped his foot on the foot rest of his stool. “Not waiting up, of course. Just got to do all the heavy lifting while he gets his rocks off under the mistletoe. Of course.”

“Not like it’s unusual is it, Sam?”

The hunter let out another sigh, though it was less heavy and more of a gentle sound as he let the air out of his lungs at the voice that came from right beside him. It wasn’t the same familiar voice he had been so used to, but with a discrete glance to his side, the Winchester recognized the woman at his elbow immediately.

“Not particularly, no.” “Well, the mistletoe maybe-” “Not if you know Dean during this time of year.” “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” “What? That Dean sees the happy season as the second best time of year for single drifters?”

“Exactly that.” The blonde woman replied, having shifted as they spoke back and forth quickly until she was leaning up against the bar at her back and her denim clad thigh closest to him pressed warmly up against his own leg. It was as hot as the space she was formed in, and Sam had to forcefully wrap his hands around the empty body of his beer bottle rather than give into the twitch of his fingers to reach for that warmth. “He does seem the type to take advantage of the kissing opportunities hanging all about us.”

“All about us, huh?” Sam replied with a small frown, green eyes catching the blue of the demon’s current face before following her eyes up to the bar head above them decorated at irregular intervals with the parasitic plant and holly berrys in equal measure. “Of course you notice such things-”

“It’s not my fault I have a wide array of skills and knowledge, Sam.” “Of course not. Not like anyone forced you to take up witchcraft right?” “Well, maybe I brought that part upon myself once upon a time - not not the rest.” “You think that is the only part of it that ties to you, Ruby?” “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing particular, nothing particular.” The hunter gave another sigh as he continued to stare up at the golden leaves filled and riddled with the actual plant rather than the fake designs that were so prevelant at that time of year - the fake plants made but not giving the same musty, sweet smell to the air that the original did. Tapping his fingers against the edge of the glass, he added quietly, "You do always seem to be blind to the rot you leave behind, after all."

There was a tense and drawn out pause between them - the air taking on an electric current that had not been there before, the static building with the tension between them as the blonde's shoulders shifted as her wide blue eyes stayed staring at the golden plant above her while his green stared tensely straight at the gentle angles of her face. There was the sound of the bar around them, the grind of chairs on floorboards, of heavy footfalls, of cheerful banter and drunken flirtations spinning around them like a vortex - but the pair of them were trapped in the eye of their self-made storm and the distance of their pasts between them.

"I suppose you mean the parasitic nature of my existence, right?" It was both a question and a statement in and of itself as the demon remained staring upwards as if praying to the small bunch of leaves for the truth. "The fact I inhabit this body and essentially steal time and existence from my host."

"That wasn't exactly what I meant either-" "Well then you must mean the nature of what I am itself - a rotted soul, blackened from the inside..." "You're getting colder, Ruby-" "Perhaps then you mean the destruction left in a demons wake?"

"I didn't mean what you are," he found himself grinding the words out between gritted teeth as he finally let go of his beer bottle and pushed himself to his feet instead. Sam pulled his gaze from the others face for a moment to flash around the bar itself quickly, noticing his brother's shoulders disappearing out the front door with an arm around the bubbly redhead from earlier as the bar was slowly winding down and the two remaining barmen began wiping down the counters and booth tops quietly around them.

The hunter heard the scrape of feet and turned his eyes straight back to the one remaining woman, blonde hair swinging about and into her eyes as she finally lowered her gaze the small distance down to his face rather than the ceiling as he crowded her back against the bar gently.

"Mistletoe is a parasite, sure. It sucks the healthy host dry and leaves it an empty, unfulfilled husk. It siphons off power and capabilities from the other, and worms it's way into the very fabric of what it is possessing until there's nothing original left." Sam felt the words slipping from his mind to his mouth without a filter as he looked down at the other, his mind flashing through the memories of the other's mistreatment and misuse of him. Her manipulation and her maneuvering. The way she would whisper a single idea and he would cling to it like a drowning man. How he grew stronger as she grew weaker in comparison, and how as he reached a hand out to her cheek, she seemed to curl into both herself and him in equal measure. "It takes what it wants from the other, and leaves a scar deep inside forever, didn't you know?"

"I regret scarring you, Sam." Ruby's voice was so soft compared to his own deep growl, the slight accent of her body's nature voice making his name sound rounder and fuller than she'd said in the past, and he found himself curling his fingers into his palm as he stroked her cheek with his knuckles. "If I could take it back-"

"You aren't the mistletoe of the both of us, Ruby." His words were almost whisper quiet, but in the winding down of the bar and with the small gap between the two of them it might as well have been a shout. "I'm the one that has changed you. Aren't I? You aren’t the same any more, are you?"

“I could never have been the same after you, Sam.” The words were basically breathed out at him, the warmth of her breath and the soft scent of the drink she had been nursing for God knows how long was just as sweet as the smell of the botanicals above them.

He couldn't have been sure until that moment what he had intended to do as Sam ran his knuckle over her cheek bone as the color lightened as if the blood had run completely from her face as the demon looked back at him in surprise and confusion. He couldn't have known that he was going to slide his hand into the blonde tresses behind her ear as her eyes were wide and almost impossibly frightened, like a deer in the headlights or a rabbit staring down a fox. He absolutely couldn't have known the words that would leave his lips right before they touched hers would be that "We're both going to regret this."

And he absolutely couldn't have known that that'd be the biggest lie he'd told as they fit together as perfectly as they ever had before, lips on lips and hands on waists before fists in hair became fists around a wheel and the creak of an empty motel room door was the last sound aside from them for the night.

—

17th of December

This city was far too cold and wet and snowy for her liking, but not quite snowy enough to be as beautiful as Paris was this time of year - rather than drifts of pure white beautiful flakes under her booties, it was mucky grey sludge that the girl could not help but be terrified would leave a stain. This place was no where near the beautiful places she loved so much and had been learning her paces of just how to be like this rather than how she used to be. The young shadow couldn’t help but be nervous at the idea of finally getting to see and meet what made the place so special for her family to spend so much time there.

The shadow had been around just long enough to have heard about how dangerous things could be in such a form - she could tell she had been born not long before her big brother was captured and tortured by some horrible man that smelt all kinds of wrong according to her elder sister when she had first formed. Something horrible, something terrible, something unspeakable had happened to their big brother - but the little shadow had heard that the danger had passed and had eyed the poofy pink dresses with unveiled lust before finding out how to take one for herself.

Tugging at the strawberry shortcake covered pattern of her dress, Ombre adjusted over and over her look in the frosted window of some closed school nearby with a nervous energy warming her through despite the cold air on her skin. The girl she was in was quiet, Ombre had never heard her speak and had yet to hear a thought from her which she’d heard was unusual; but perhaps one day she would wake up and want to be friends since the shadow has slipped into her on that stark white bed in the stark white room with only the beeping noise of some machine to keep her company. It had been such a sad scene, and the little shadow had hated to see such a cute face left so emotionless as the girl had slept - and the shadow had determined to rectify it herself after learning the trick to it from her older brother with his bright blue eyes and cheeky grin. Smiling to herself in the glass, straightening one of the lace ties around her pig tails, Ombre felt herself warm through seeing such a bright, happy look on the face like she thought it should look.

There was the sound of barking somewhere nearby but dulled as if inside, and the shadow suddenly jerked around as she realised she was missing her chance. She disappeared in the smoke of their travel quickly from the snowy grounds of the school in a flash.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was staring at the well dressed back and beautiful hair she had seen secretly several times before she had taken on her own face. The hair was so nice and shiny and straight, so stylish and modern and mature but cool that Ombre felt the twitch of her fingers wanting to reach out and touch it for herself - an obsession she was still learning to reel in - as the door in front of the other opened with a gust of warmth and another loud bark.

“Is she still not used to me, brother?” Shada asked in what could be mistaken for a snippy tone if it weren’t belied by the warmth of her greeting as she stepped forward to hug the other with a smile as the older shadow struggled to keep the dog inside while returning the embrace. “I thought she was almost over it.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Shada, she was better behaved last time.”

“I think it might be me.” Ombre couldn’t help but speak up as she caught the crestfallen look on her brother’s face as he looked down at the still barking dog as he pushed the animal back from the doorway to let the dark haired shadow-girl inside. There was barely a moment before the dog was released in shock and the pink-clad shadow found herself flung down the steps onto the muddy front path with an “Oomph!” as the large dog rocketed itself at her, barking all the while and teeth bared as it growled down into her face. “Oh! S-s-sorry doggie.”

“NANA!” The shout was loud and the blonde couldn’t see where it came from before the next moment the heavy, growling dog was forcibly pulled from her and dragged back into the house quickly by her big, strong brother.

Ombre could feel a slight shake from the fright still coursing through her as she made her way wobbingly to her feet and flapped her dress about as if hoping that would get the mud off. How he could live with the dog, and it listen to him, and not bark and growl at him made her so so curious - all the cute, fluffy things she had tried to interact with had ran or stopped moving shortly after she touched their soft fur before giving up after the third time. Her big brother was so cool having a dog like him.

As she dropped the ruined fabric of her dress’ skirt, the blonde blinked in surprise to feel two hands tugging gently and resettling her pigtails back into place and tweaking her lace bows back into their full, luminous glory. “Oh, uh... thank..thank you.” The little shadow mumbled the words out as the older one dropped her hands down upon finishing her task, an inscruitable look upon her pretty, pretty face to the other. “I.. I suppose I should have said I was, uh, here earlier, oui?”

“Oui, indeed!” The brunette woman’s face shifted as her eyes ran over the other, before a rather dazzling smile formed that made the younger one grow warm and pink under it. “Look at you! How pretty your dress, little sister, and your hair was very nice before the bad doggy jumped at you.”

“That-that’s all fine though. I-I-I just.. scared her after all.” “Maybe, but she should be used to family by now if brother would let us visit more.”

“Shada, do not call Nana a bad dog - even if she can’t hear you.” The voice came from the front door as Ombre found herself being guided back up the few steps by her big sister who merely rolled her eyes at their brother’s words, a small smile tugging at her lips still. The dark haired man was still looking cautious and curiously, an uncertain air to his posture as Shada and Ombre made their way to the entry again, blue eyes meeting her own blue ones straight on. “Now, how about some introductions before we get interrupted again by Mother knows what.”

“Oh! I-I’m, uh, that is that um, I’m going by Ombre.. I.. I’m so pleased to finally meet you, big brother - big sister” The blonde’s head swung between each as she addressed them, the uncertain smile on her lips growing as she realised that she had finally managed it. She had finally managed to prove she was just as grown up as her broodmates who had all started stronger and fiercer and in some cases just downright scary to her, who were all still hiding in the dark corners and fighting for their positions among one another. She, the littlest of the litter and the most beat down, was standing receiving a curious look and a gentle smile from their big brother and big sister without her knees shaking at all in fear. “I’m so so pleased! I-I-I love your house, big brother, it is...so quaint.”

“Thank you Ombre,” There was an extremely kind look to the older shadow’s face as he looked back at her, and she couldn’t hold the twitch to want to twist her hands together in her dress front as she met his softening look. It was such a nice looking look, Ombre really appreciated getting to see more than just a disembodied smile from someone right then more than ever. After a very short pause there was a shift as the other stepped back into the house, waving a hand out. “Well, come on in then both of you, before we let all the heat out-”

“Oh quickly then, this place is always so cold-” “It is not cold, Shada, we just tend to conserve the energy and use blankets.” “Not everyone has a cute someone to cuddle up with, brother.” “Perhaps you would if you’d just learn to focus on one- an achievable one!” “He is too achievable for me!”

Ombre blinked rapidly as she was ushered inside and the pair of older shadows began bickering back and forth at an alarming rate as the front door was shut behind them and she took the time to take in every little detail of the small entry way before they all piled into the lounge room and the warm, gentle glow from the Christmas lights wrapped around a rather tall, plastic Christmas tree in the corner.

The house smelt like cinnamon and vanilla and cloves and pine, and there was something so friendly and inviting about the space as the young shadow moved to stand near the tree as she watched the other two, she couldn’t imagine how lucky she had to be to get to stand there rather than cowering from her brother’s and sister’s in some dark alley somewhere fighting for the last scraps; and instead was watching a flurry of madness and movement begin before being drawn gently into joining the fray of tinsel and baubles as they began in earnest “fixing” the tree as the perky brunette said with a laugh, helping Ombre to reach the top to place the bright glowing, golden star for the first time ever.

#ca #fic #sampov #greypov #ombrepov #cc

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drumpfwatch · 6 years ago

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State of the Union 2019 Commentary

It’s been a week and some change. Let’s talk State of the Union.

First off, I’d like to make a comment on the overall speech theme. Trump spoke of unity and everyone coming together, but that very morning he went to yell at how obstructionist and obnoxious the Democrats were being for not giving him his baby bottle wall. This man, who speaks of himself as the best deal maker in the world, and bragged he’d be able to get everyone to get together and make friends, sort out their differences, when he has done nothing but make demand after demand and concede no ground.

A compromise, Mr. Trump, is two people coming together and agreeing on something they’re both willing to do while conceding parts of what they want. It’s called a surrender if someone gives you everything they want while getting nothing. Dummkopf.

So with that, let’s begin at the beginning. I warn you right now I don’t want to go over every single point he made, but I’ll cover as many of them as I can and comment as needed. There are other commentaries out there, some as soon as the day after, and those are more than cool to have hanging around. I’m sure between all of those you can come up with a total summary of what he said, based on every single word. With that, let’s begin.

As per his theme, he started the speech by calling for unity and cooperation. All well and good for anyone else. We should avoid revenge politics - which is fucking rich coming from him, but whatever. Specifically, he calls congress to concern themselves “with the agenda of the American people” but…

Well, we’ll get to that.

He thanks some WW2 vets and then talks about how he’s interested in “America First.” People have on more than one occasion pointed out that given his actions, he seems to mean “America Only” when he says that, and that should be a premise that is upsetting to everyone but I have no doubt there is a large portion of the population of the American population who are more than happy to ignore the rest of the world. They already do, after all.

He then introduces Buzz Aldrin, saying that we’ll be going to space on American rockets again. And he’s actually, sadly, right there. Back in 2011, the Space Shuttle program was retired, and we’ve been relying on the Russian Soyuz capsule to get us into the space ever since. The successor to the Space Shuttle Program, the Space Launch System, has been slow coming for numerous reasons. It is, however, finally going to be ready to go in 2019 and will perform its first mission in 2020 - sending a craft to Mars. They wanted a rocket that could get a crew to Mars eventually, and the Senate…

Well, let’s just say congress stuck it’s fingers into the Space Launch System so much that it has been derisively called the Senate Launch System, and a lot of astronauts and NASA Engineers are concerned that it is basically a horrible, efficient money sink. Still, as an avid space fanatic, I’m glad we’re making efforts, at least. Though I’d point out that those efforts have been in motion long before he ever got there to direct them. This is, after all, the man that believed we could go to Mars before his first term was out.

He next goes on to talk about the economy, claiming that our middle class is bigger and more prosperous than ever before. This is untrue. While it seems to be complicated, the general consensus is that while the Middle Class has been stable in size, they tend to have less and less, especially in comparison to the upper class. That is where the real problem is, as well. The absolutely ridiculous wealth disparity. Though I get the feeling that removing taxes from private jets is totally gonna help with that. She says, sarcasm frothing in her mouth in a mixture of rage and bitterness.

He then claimed responsibility for the parts of the economic boom that have been happening. First of all, the economy is...not exactly booming. But there are good things happening in it. It’s sort of a whirlygig of insanity, if I’m honest. Now, you’ll hear me say this again a few other times, but I am not all that educated when it comes to economics. Economics is a chaos system and I much prefer stable ones with easy to predict results. Is a thing right or wrong, is this method an effective way of accomplishing the intended goal. Things like that.

That said, I do know a few things, and one of them is that a lot of people who do know a thing or two about economics point out that this economic boom began in 2016, which means it's entirely possible that this is a result of Obama’s policies were responsible, we don’t really know. Maybe Trump did have something to do with it, but it’s often not accurate to blame the problems or successes of an economy on a single thing. So this claim gets a big ol’ stamp of “UNVERIFIABLE” from me.

I can say that wages are not rising, or at least as much as he thinks. The Federal Minimum Wage was not changed since 2009, and lost about 9.6% of its purchasing power because of inflation. While some states have made major strides towards livable minimum wages have been made in places like New York and California, I’d be willing to bet dollars to donuts that if you removed the massive amount of wealth that people like Jeff Bezos make, you’d find that they are stagnant, or even lowering.

There’s a thought for a math rant sometime.

Anyway, he then praises the 5 million people who got off of food stamps. First of all, the number is 3.5 million. Second of all, it’s a bit more complicated than that. To summarize, while the decrease in unemployment is helping, there’s another little niggling thing. There was a provision in the law that basically said you could turn off some of the safety nets if employment rates rose, and a lot of states decided not to pay for those benefits. I won’t argue whether or not that was a right or wrong decision, but I will say you don’t get to wave around the number of people who are off a program as a victory when the reason they’re off it isn’t because they don’t need it, but because they were kicked off it.

We’re the hottest economy in the world, he says! And he’s wrong. I mentioned before that we’re in a weird sort of “Good Things, Bad Things” phase, but I don’t think I need to tell anyone that the stock market has been all over the place, falling and rising considerably at random. Meanwhile, S&P has downgraded America’s credit score. I think we’ve got a problem, and I know we’re not the hottest economy.

He then goes onto say that the unemployment rate for people of color is the lowest it’s ever been. And shockingly, he’s right on this one. Sort of. The Federal Bureau of Labor Statistics shows that the rate of unemployment for hispanic people and black people actually went down, and was at one point the lowest it’s ever been. Asian unemployment has sorta been all over the place. What makes it strange, however, is that each of these groups had a random and sudden spike since November/December of last year, while for whites it’s been pretty stagnant. Last hired, first fired, I guess.

He also talks about the same with disabled people and that is blatantly untrue. While it seems the number of people who qualify for disability also is going up, they’re not getting employed any faster.

I should also mention that even if we could point to one specific thing as responsible for these changes, I doubt it would be the fault of the man who himself wouldn’t house or hire black people.

He also celebrated getting rid of the estate tax. Which yes, he did. That is not necessarily a good thing. He acts like it applies to small businesses and farmers, but it doesn’t. One person said on the matter “If you don’t feel comfortable calling what you own an estate, then you probably aren’t affected by the estate tax.” You and your guilded crotch spawn and protected up to 10 million dollars. Only after that is your wealthy taxed on death, and only to prevent the the existence of a permanent landed gentry. The only people benefiting from the end of the estate tax are literal millionaires, who can afford to give some of that dosh to the community.

He then talks about Obamacare, and how he get rid of the Individual Mandate. He claims this was the most unpopular part of the law, and he’s right, but analysts point out that it’s more complicated then Thing Bad So Get Rid Of. Without the Individual Mandate to get people motivated to apply for coverage, a lot of people simply won’t get insured. Further, the whole point was that forcing the younger people to pay for insurance when they’re less likely to need it helped to add money to the pool that could be used to help cover the people with pre-existing conditions or complications. That said, it’s also a good thing not having people pay for coverage they can’t afford, so...it’s complicated.

Trump then bragged about cutting the most regulations of any President ever, and I won’t deny that he has. I will, however, point out that this is a horrible thing that should concern and frighten all of you. While some of those regulations may seem arbitrary, literally every one of them was written in the blood of some innocent person who died so a corporation could make an extra buck. We’ve already seen an increase in food poisoning and infections and the increase in food recalls since 2013 has been kind of horrifying. Trump has been eagerly cutting regulations to “Pre-1960s” levels. You know, before we had seatbelts. It’s very harmful to cut those regulations, and it needs to stop.

He then says that America has corporations coming back in record numbers. On this, he is also not wrong. The Jobs report was very good, and we should all be happy about that. That said, whether or not he is the one to thank for that is a bit more complicated, as usual. It turns out that some of these gears were set into motion when Obama was in office. Some of them are just the effects of a slow recovery process since the 2009 Recession. That said, they did take a sharp rise in 2017. So yay for him, I guess.

Except, again, if deregulation is how you’re doing this, then you’re doing it wrong. We should not be sacrificing the blood of American people so that a few already stupid wealthy people can get even more stupid wealthy. The reward is not worth the cost.

He then goes on about how we’re the number one producer of oil in the world. This claim is untrue. There has, however, been a boom in oil and natural gas production due to things like the invention of fracking and loosening of regulations that goes all the way back to the Bush Era. The rate is increasing such that by sometime into the 2020s, we will be the greatest producer of oil and natural gas, at least privately. Considering those materials are murdering our planet this is also not good news, but since Global Warming is, of course, a conspiracy cooked up by the Chinese to steal American Jobs, that doesn’t matter. We are also not a net exporter of energy, by the way, but are on are way to becoming one.

Then things get...weird. Everyone starts chanting “U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!” in this really low and creepy tone that I was frankly a bit creeped out by. It was like these people thought they were at a football game and not a session of Congress. Then again, this is my first time really sitting down and paying attention to the State of the Union, so this may be normal. I just didn’t like it.

What should, however, terrify everyone is his next babbling remark. He spends five minutes or so going on a rant about how “If there is going to be peace in legislation, there cannot be war and investigation.” Which, frankly, reminded me of a mafia frontman. “Lovely country you got here, shame if somethin’ were to happen to it. You noisy folks stink’ yah nose into my bosses business makes it real hard for him to keep wild guys like Big Jim ova deya under control. I can’t promise you won’t upset him wid all this.”

Sorry, trumby. You don’t get to talk about the need to stop our adversaries when you may well have been put in office by one.

Ughk, I hate using that word. Adversaries. It makes it sound like we have a boat load of enemies, when in reality we have like, 3 or 4, and otherwise a series of complex political relationships. Like we can’t work together with those people for a better future if we all just calmed the fuck down.

Like they’re not people.

Whatever. There are more important things to worry about.

Like how he goes on to mock the democrats for not approving his nominations. Even though a whole boatload of them are sketchy as fuck, should have never even been approved at all, or were just never filled by Trump in the first place.

Also can I just say that it’s fucking rich hearing aa man like Trump complain about not getting a nominee approved after what his party pulled with the Supreme Court? We call that hypocrisy.

He then goes on to talk about making life easier for prisoners and punishing people who abuse our veterans. Now, I could point out that prison reform was actually Barack Obama’s whole big thing and he passed a lot of laws in that regard, and Trump has not, and Former President Obama also passed VA reform in 2014 that allowed for people who mistreated veterans to be harshly punished. That said, Trump has been making further strides on those initiatives, and in fact his most approved and liked legislation is the First Step Act. These are the sorts of policies that really can make life better for people, and it’s nice to see everyone getting behind them. Ofcoursewecouldfurtherthesegreatstridesbyclosingdownforprofitprisons, andotherthingsthatimcertaindontappealtoarepublicanmindset, but that’s for another day. What I’m saying here is that as much as I don’t like it, I have to admit Trump has done a good. I don’t care who past them, how they developed, they were good things that happened. Yay! Good job Trump, you get a big shiny gold star.

We then move on to the Racist section of the speech. He starts by talking about the Migrant Caravan and I am shocked at how wrong and full of hatred this man is. He claims these refugees are an “onslaught” of illegal aliens when they’re all coming to America to seek asylum. You know, something that’s completely and totally legal. But no, this is an INVADING FORCE of ILLEGAL ALIENS that need to be stopped with 3,750 more Soldiers with GUNS. They managed to make it all the way to the American border with only one small kerfuffle with the Mexican border police, before arriving at the American border not to see Lady Liberty’s open arms welcoming the hopeless and downtrodden, the weary and poor, but instead heavily armed and barricaded troops who would then go on to use tear gas on them. Is that the America we want to show to the world?

Now, to his credit, Trump admits that Immigrants enrich our society - which is entirely true. Yes, there’s a bit of stress on lower-wage jobs when they first arrive, but that’s minimal in comparison to the benefits. Not that saying that to someone who got laid off and replaced with a migrant is no consolation, I fully understand, but there are ways to help these problems. Also, side note, if he believes immigrants are so awesome and enriching to our society, then he would be more than happy to have them enter the country. But the immigration system here is a convoluted mess of insanity that takes forever to get anything done and then occasionally does nothing, and Trump has just been making it worse. Just a thought.

Now I wrote an entire post about the wall, so I won’t go into it too much here. But the wall is an expensive, stupid, and ineffective idea. Drugs aren’t coming through skirmishers who are dodging around the border, they’re coming through ports of entry. The San Diego wall he was talking about isn’t nearly as effective as he pretends, and it didn’t really start working until the entry port in that area was spruced up. Smuggler still break through it all the time, as well, to the point where an area of it is called “Smuggler’s Gulch.” It also has trapped migrants into paying more to cross to the bad guys, taking riskier and more lethal routes, and actually trapping “illegal” migrants in who may want to leave. Most of the time, men would come up, do some work for cash, then go home once they felt they had enough, but now they’re coming, staying, and bringing their families.

Trump also points out that there were people in that room who voted for the wall, but I reckon the immense amount of insanity that came from that previous attempt are why a lot of people don’t want to do it again. Trump says that “No issue better illustrates the divide between America's working class and America's political class” but in truth, 60% of Americans are strongly opposed to the wall. The wall is a lost, stupid cause, and Trump needs to give it up before he hurts himself with his flailing about it.

OH, and just as one last cherry on the cake, it won’t stop sex trafficking either. Most traffickers bring there people in through on legal Visas, which they are then forced to overstay as those visas are held from them. In fact, over 80 anti-trafficking organizations got together to say that Trump's comments on the matter were actually harmful to efforts to stop this stuff.

He then goes on to tell the story of the Maddison family. I honestly don’t remember what it specifically was, because they are just a prop to garner sympathy for his position, and I’d actually be fine with that if the idiot didn’t use it to spread a lie. This family lost ones they love to MS13 members. That’s horrible and tragic and very sad, and I feel for them and wish it hadn’t happened. But acting like this is how every “illegal immigrant” operates is just a flat out lie. While the actual numbers are hard to tell, we know enough to say that if you strip away the illegal crime of coming here when not allowed, “illegal” immigrants commit 16% less crimes then the native-born population. Most of them are just people who want to escape an insane life and live the American Dream. But, see, they’re hispanic, so they can’t. You have to be white to be an American.

So with all of that said, let’s jump ahead to a cute moment where he talks about women taking 53% of the open jobs. Again, not his fault but go off I guess.

He then goes on to celebrate the women in Congress, of which there are more than ever before. Hurrah! I appreciate that little wink and nod, and in fact Donny, you get a gold star for this one too because this one is your fault.

By proxy.

Pretty much every one of those women ran for office because they hated you, your policies, and your stupid ugly face. They’re not there because they like you, they’re there because they want to stop you. So I think I’mma just take that shiny gold star away.

Next, he bounces back to talking about the economy, because Trump can’t focus on a single thing. Again, I won’t say much on this because economics is not my speciality, but people who DO know a thing or two about economics are pretty much in agreement that tariffs are a tool, and not a very good one. The analogy I like to use goes something like this. Imagine tariffs as a double edged knife you’re going to use to stab someone you don’t like. You’re already dealing with a weapon that’s not the safest, but guess what? This one also doesn't have a hilt, or a guard, or a pommel or anything. It’s literally just a long, serrated sheet of iron with a point on one end. So whenever you hit the other guy, you’re cutting yourself too. You can’t not.

Tariffs need to be used with the precision of a scalpel, and only if they’re determined to be the right tool for the job. And that’s without accounting for the unintended consequences like how rich people can probably find a way to avoid tariffs so they hurt the poorer people more, or you know, starting a trade war because the other people can just pass tariffs on you too?! And if any of you think this gigantic flatulating, tiny-handed orange with a racist stick coming out of its ass is capable of “precision” then I have a bridge I’d very much like to sell you.

He also goes on to talk about NAFTA again, and I’m gonna have to plead ignorance on this one. I don’t know if NAFTA is or is not a good deal, or if UMCA is a better one. I don’t know enough about economics and I don’t know enough about the laws themselves. I’m at least grateful the idiot didn’t cancel NAFTA before enstating UMCA, and those people who are smarter than me I keep talking about say that Mexico and Canada may not be in a mood to negotiate a new trade deal. So who knows. I’m not going to say much else on the matter.

So then we move on to infrastructure brieful. Trump talks about how it’s crumbling and needs repair, and he’s not wrong. The infrastructure report card for the US is, frankly, abysmal. But this begins a trend on a couple of topics.

He goes on to eagerly talk about how we need to improve health care, and lower drug prices! That we’re going to get rid of HIV in 10 years! That Childhood Cancer is going to be eradicated! Everyone gets paid family leave! All this wonderful pie-in-the-sky stuff that is super cool to hear him talk about, and I’d be totally behind him….

If he were actually doing anything on these matters. Trump talks a big game on these things, but hasn’t made any moves. Whenever he starts to, his business buddies step in and explain why they’re going to lose money and he stops.

So! He then moves on to talk about the legislation in New York that protects women’s rights to get an abortion anytime and how horrible it is that they’re murdering babies.

I think the response the white-clade congress women gave was the best.

I think the look on Angela Ocasio-Cortez’s face is the best, but the look on Angelia Ocasio-Cortez’s face and I think that’s Kathleen Rice giving the stink eye.

I don’t want to get into a debate about abortion, because that really is the best way to get everyone everywhere ever to hate you. I will say this, however. The law more or less only applies to pregnancies that would kill the mother or if the baby is already dead, and it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t.

Do you honestly think a person is going to go throw eight months of the most harrowing and obnoxious process the human body is capable of performing and then just suddenly decide “You know what? I don’t want this baby anymore.” If you’re that far along you either wanted the baby and were willing to suffer for it, or you never wanted the baby and were prevented from getting an abortion when it would’ve been kinder. The law isn’t about murdering babies, it's about letting women have control over themselves and their bodies. Acting like it’s some horrible evil that happened just makes you look dumb.

We then go onto nonsense about military bravado. Trump yammered about how he forced our allies to pay their fair share in NATO - which is honestly a kettle of fish I want to talk about in its own post, but suffice it to say it’s interesting everything he stresses and hates NATO for makes matters easier for Putin.

The real thing I want to talk about is the nuclear treaty he eventually meanders into like a toddler into a wall. Look, I’m not going to pretend that I understand the intricate diplomatics of nuclear negotiations, but even I know that YOU DO NOT ARBITRARILY CANCEL A TREATY THAT PREVENTS NUKES FROM BEING BUILT. You want an arms race?! This is how you get an arms race!

So what if Russia is “flaunting it” and ignoring it? I do not give one single solitary flying fuck. You negotiate a treaty that makes them suffer consequences - or better yet, stop not making them suffer the consequences they’re supposed to when they pull that shit - and you do it while the other treaty is still active. The last thing we need right now is a nuclear war and I don’t want to fucking hear that you’re taking Russia out of a treaty that at least somewhat contained them.

This man is going to get us all killed, I swear to Athena.

He then starts saying that “oh, the world would be in Nuclear war with South Korea if it weren’t for him, and he’s just wrong. I mean I know the nature of reality is such that there’s no real way to measure the tiny micro changes in the fabric of events that could lead to a given result, but I can say for damn sure that North Korea became more aggressive after Trump took office, and that their nuclear problem is largely for deterrent purposes because they are afraid of. Not that anyone should have nuclear weapons. Point is, this claim is bullshit, and I don’t need to source anything because it’s fantastical.

Next up is Venezuela, and his whole...spat against socialism. First of all, socialism is not responsible for the collapse of Venezuela because it wasn’t socialist. Those close to Maduro call his state a narco mafia government under the guise of socialism. It’s complicated - like everything else here is - but it can basically be summarized that instead of gathering material in the government and using it to support the people, it gave all that to big companies and then just kept taking and taking. Because that’s what unregulated big companies do. There was no market.

That said, even if Venezuela had been socialist in the truest sense, that doesn’t mean that socialist policies couldn’t work or shouldn’t be used. When applied properly (with a mix of capitalism, in my opinion), you can create a prosperous country that takes care of everyone by skimming off the top of those who have much and giving to those who have little. We’ve seen it work in different circumstances before, and even an entire country that made it work up until Stalin decided to take it over and twist its efficacy into bullshit.

He then talks a bit about Israel and Palestine, which is another basket of snakes I refuse to open other then to say that treating it as casually as he does is stupid. Israel and weird creepy end times Christians are the only people who actually don’t want a two-state solution. Sooo yeah.

Next, he speaks on how he’s done with the war against ISIS and that the troops are coming home, but fails to give a time frame and talks about not fighting an endless war - something I’d be more willing to believe if he wasn’t spewing money into the military like a sick man on laxatives does into the toilet. But whatever, I’m all for both of those things, so if he does them I’ll compliment him accordingly and apologize for not believing him.

The last thing I really want to talk about is how he brags about getting out of the Iran Nuclear Deal. That was actually working just fine and had finally squeezed Iran into cooperating and now they don’t have to while still giving them breathing room for their civilian population. But that is a complicated matter, that, again, is more difficult to ascertain than “Thing Good” or “Thing Bad.”

From there, the rest of the speech is just chest beating and bravado. Emotional appeals about how great America is and how free we are and blah blaah blaaah. I actually don’t have a problem with this - the swelling call to action at the end of the speech is a very effective tool and it’s not like I haven’t used emotional manipulation myself, even in this very article. But the point is that it’s not factual - it’s not meant to be criticized as a series of claims or even critiqued at all. It’s bravado, pure and simple. Trump is good at it, and he did a good job with it here.

Before I conclude though, I just want to quickly comment on one thing. Him derailing antisemitism is hilarious. You’re like 4 years too late on that bro.

Anyway, conclusions.

Most of the problems with this speech can be summed up with “It’s not that simple, idiot.” The world is a complicated place and Trump tried to simplify it. His ignorance to fully explain the complexities - or, as the case may be, even bother to understand them - has led him to misinform people live on TV. I’m not going to spend time talking about whether it was deliberate or not, I have long since given up and trying to determine where Trump’s evil ends and his stupid begins.

I will say that I give him one or two points for doing the things right, but given how much else was disgusting and, frankly, hateful, it’s very much “even a broken clock is right twice a day” type thing. Trump’s state of the Union was a cavalcade of lies and misjudgements, interspaced with bravado and unnecessary calls to his god. This is a secular nation, people. I should not hear about God no less than 4 times in the most important speech the country makes.

Hopefully he’ll be out of office soon.

#TheDrumpfWatch #Wednesday Essays #by Phoenix

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lookingforodysseus · 6 years ago

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The Usual

A/N: SO, I usually don’t post stuff like this, but the wonderful @startrekkingaroundasgard had a 2K writing challenge about tropes and no one had taken the coffee shop AU yet, which I thought was a shame and a disaster, so here we go. Hope you enjoy :D

Tony had always thought he would despise working in the service industry. Given the amount everyone around him complained about it, he had expected he would be trying to commit harakiri with a milk frother within the week, since whatever Hades had in store for him would be less bad than dealing with one more person who pronounced cappuccino wrong.

And yet, now that he's here, he's enjoying himself. The coffee shop, called Impresso Espresso (insert forced laughter here), is across from a college campus, so most of his customers are caffeine-addicted students, hands shaking and eyes wide open from either too much Redbull or too much cocaine (it's a toss up at this age, really) and their professors, with under-eye bags so large they can put all the assignments they still have to mark in them, leaving their hands free for a carton cup with seven shots of espresso. Tony enjoys winking at all of them and trying to make them laugh, every smile a reward better than the free coffee that comes with the job.

During the classic afternoon lull, when the students are in bed and the professors in class, Tony puts the mechanics degree that put him deep in debt but didn't provide him with a job due to his well-meaning but obnoxious demeanour to good use by upgrading the ancient coffee machines, that were apparently purchased in the late seventies, max- or maybe modern technology just isn't as great as people often make it out to be.

Tony's manager, Matt, captain of the American football team who likes his coffee like he likes his math problems, simple, watches this thirty-something man become increasingly comfortable in a coffee shop populated mostly by those ten years younger or older than him with a mix between amazement and amusement. Besides, the coffee machines, that previously took ten minutes of gentle conversation with an increasingly impatient customer to create something as simple as a cup of tea, can now whip up a doppio in a record-holding 17.8 seconds, according to Tony. To Matt, it just feels like approximately 20 seconds, but, apparently, the exact time is of great importance to Tony, who, one night during midterms season when the coffee shop is open 24/7 to accommodate all the students pulling all-nighters, calls Matt at 3 am to announce he has shortened this time to 17.7 seconds. Apart from that hiccup, though, Tony is a good employee and Matt is satisfied.

On a dreary Thursday in February, one of the other baristas asks Matt: "Have you seen the professor around, lately? I feel like it's been awhile since we've had a queue of 20+ people- do you think he's ill?"

Matt smiles. "Don't worry about him, he's at a conference. He told me about it last time he was here, right before he told me off about not stirring his coffee correctly, or putting too much syrup in it. I'm not sure what it was that time, but it was clear he wasn't happy."

The barista laughs. "Is he ever?"

Tony, who is leaning on the counter, watching the students run by, text books over their head, more concerned with protecting their haircut than the $200 the book cost them, hears the comment. "Who are you talking about?" he asks, intrigued.

"Just this crazy customer who comes here a lot," Matt says. "He teaches something very scientific and complicated, and his order is absolutely ridiculous. You should be glad you're first month here has coincided with a four-week conference in Silicon Valley he had to go to. He's a nightmare."

Tony laughs. "Oh come one, he can't be that bad."

Matt rolls his eyes at the other barista, pulling off her apron now that her shift has ended. She waves at the two men behind the bar before exiting the coffee shop, the door being held open for her by a customer just about the enter the shop.

The customer enters the cafe, his eyes gliding over the neon Impresso Espresso sign behind the counter like he is disappointed still no one has realised what a horrible idea it was to put it there. Behind Tony, Matt sighs. "That'll teach me to speak of the devil. That's him, the professor. You take him, you've never had to suffer through his demands."

Tony steps up to the register just as the man reaches the counter. He is wearing thick, black glasses that almost completely hide his grey eyes. The top button of his checkered shirt is undone, but it doesn't look on purpose, more like he just forgot there was another button before he finished dressing himself. His large, black cardigan is wrapped around his body like a blanket. He is younger than Tony expected, for a professor being invited to month-long conferences. He also doesn't look like someone who has an order complicated enough to make his colleagues this bitter (pun intended).

When the man opens his mouth to place his order, Tony expects the other employees to have pulled a prank on him, expects the man to just order a black coffee, and maybe, maybe, make a joke about the colour of his soul. Instead, he hits Tony with this beauty of a coffee order: "I would like a latte, but instead of only milk, I would like half milk half hot water. The milk should be equal parts almond and coconut, with an extra dash of soy. Stir that exactly two and a half times clockwise. Then, add in a full glass of skimmed milk, that has been frothed for exactly 12.5 seconds, shake it up with ice, pour half of the drink out, and heat the other half up again, which needs to be stirred twelve times anti-clockwise at a temperature of 63 Celsius or 145.4 Fahrenheit. Take it off the heat at 98.7 Celsius or 209.67 Fahrenheit. I would like three and a quarter pumps of sugar-free vanilla syrup, seven packets of sugar, two pumps of caramel syrup, make sure to add that in after the sugar, otherwise you ruin the taste, and .4 pump of hazelnut. Then, I would like some cocoa powder, pour the coffee in with ice and shake it up again. I would also like whipped cream on top, but then please shave it off again, so there's only a little bit of whipped cream left. Pay with card, please."

Tony's mouth falls open. "You're kidding!" he exclaims. Behind him, he hears Matt snicker. The man begins to explain the importance of each individual step to the flavour of the beverage, but Tony interrupts him: "That's my order!"

A smile forms on the man's face, grey eyes sparkling. "Finally, someone with good taste around here," he says, giving Matt, whose jaw has slammed through the floor of the coffee shop and is currently making its way to the centre of the earth, a side eye. "You'll know the crucial timing of the stirring, then."

Tony nods. "Of course, of course," he says, with a stern face, fully aware of how important these things are. One of the reasons he had decided to start working in a coffee shop was that he would finally be able to make this order perfectly for himself. He can't believe another person with a brain as small as a human's has been smart enough to realise this order is the only way coffee is anything near drinkable. "Name?"

"Bruce," the man answers, and Tony hits the buttons on the register to allow the man to pay for his drink, even though he believes that thinking like that should be rewarded with a free coffee, before writing Bruce on the cup in his squiggly handwriting.

A solid twenty minutes and 27 grumbling people in line behind Bruce later, Tony presents the coffee with a flourish Shakespearean actors would be jealous of, putting a lid on the take-away cup before sliding it across the counter towards Bruce. "Oh, I don't need a lid," Bruce says, and pulls on the lid. However, in his enthusiasm, Tony has pressed down a bit harder than was fully necessary, and, no matter how much Bruce pulls, the lid is not giving way.

Tony snickers. "Well, someone's got muscles that would give the Hulk a run for his money."

Bruce laughs, too, and pushes the cup back towards Tony. "Can you do it?" Tony easily takes of the lid and slides the now lidless cup to Bruce. With a smile and a nod of his head, Bruce exits the coffee shop.

Over the next week, Bruce comes back twice a day, once in the early morning, and once for a pick-me-up in the middle of the afternoon. Tony learns his schedule quickly enough, and ensures he arrives a bit too early and leaves a bit too late for his shifts, so he can be there to make Bruce's coffee. He doesn't ask for the man's name anymore, instead scribbling Hulk, No Lid on his cup, something that amuses Bruce, which is only indicated by the sparkle in his eyes when he reads it. Most of Bruce's emotions seems to be conveyed through his eyes, and Tony starts making subtle alterations to his order depending on the look in them- an extra shot of coffee if they're especially tired, some more syrup when he's looking down, and some extra milk when Bruce's eyes are dull, in replacement for Tony's wish to put his hand on his stubbled cheek and his lips against his forehead to soften the pain he sees hiding behind the grey clouds in Bruce's irises. He knows Bruce notices, when his eyes regain some of the sparkle Tony had seen that first time they had met after he takes his first sip, thanking Tony with a simple nod of the head and a half-smile, which Tony cherishes more than the few coins Bruce drops in the tip jar whenever he visits the shop.

They talk every time, sharing jabs and ideas, words and looks, until Matt has had enough of it. One particularly rainy afternoon in March, he punches Tony's arm in a way that's soft for a quarterback such as Matt, but hard for a skinny 5'9 guy like Tony, and he has to take a side step to prevent himself from falling against one of the coffee machines.

"When are you finally gonna do something about that, man?" Matt asks. Tony raises an eyebrow, innocence painted on his face. It's as much of a forgery as most of Da Vinci's paintings, though, and Matt knows it. "You kids have been flirting under my nose for over a month now," he continues, ignoring the fact that both of the men he's talking about are at least ten years older than he is. "You need to make a move, dude. Now!"

Tony gestures at the window, where Bruce can be seen crossing the street to the college campus, coffee in his hand. "He's gone, Matt," he says. "What do you want me to do? Go after him?"

Matt nods enthusiastically. "That's exactly what you should do! Run after him, ask him out! Don't be such a wimp!" He pulls Tony's apron over his head and pushes him towards the door.

Tony struggles against Matt's indisputably superior physical strength. "I never took you to be such a romantic," he says. "Might harm that cool image you've got going on."

Matt snickers. "You're not talking your way out of this one, Tony," he says, opening the door with one hand and pushing Tony through it with the other. "Now, go!"

With not much other choice, Tony runs across the road, waving at the sleek black car that almost hit him, driven by an extremely annoyed-looking red haired woman who seems to have half a mind to simply step on the gas and run him over. He makes it across the street in one piece though, and yells: "Bruce!"

The other man is so shocked by someone yelling his name that he promptly drops his coffee cup. He spins around, hands risen next to his head as if showing he has no weapons. His wet hair is plastered to his forehead, and his navy blazer darkens where the rain hits him, since he isn't wearing a coat. Neither is Tony himself, he realizes, now that the rain is making his white T-shirt quickly turn see-through. "It's just me," Tony says.

"Oh, yes. Did I forget something?" Bruce pets the pockets of his blazer.

Tony shakes his head. "No, I eh… I…" He has always been a man of words, but now, faced with a nervous, drenched professor whose coffee is spilling all over the pavement between their feet, he doesn't know what to say. "Can I buy you a new coffee?" he asks, hating the clenched way his voice comes out of his mouth. "Maybe we could, you know, talk. Somewhere else than in there." He gestures at Impresso Espresso, where Matt is grinning broadly behind the windows. "Somewhere he can't see us."

Bruce smiles, with both his eyes and his mouth, and Tony has to resist the urge to run back and high-five Matt. "That would be nice. There's a decent place just up the road." He gestures in a vague direction, and Tony isn't sure which road he's indicating, but he doesn't care. He would follow this man to a coffee shop three cities over, if he really had to.

When they walk into the shop, water forms small pools by their feet, and a single, bored barista is leaning over the counter. The neon sign behind her reads Cool Beans Coffee Bar. Bruce sighs. "Do all coffee shops have those?"

Tony laughs. "Federal law requires it. That's top secret, though, don't tell anyone."

Bruce mimes locking his lips and throwing the key away, and, grinning, the two men step up to the counter. Tony eyes the other man. "The usual?"

Bruce nods. "The usual."

#nicolas2k #the avengers #tony stark #bruce banner #fanfiction

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jonasmaurer · 5 years ago

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Friday Faves

Hi friends! Happy Friday! Hope you’re having a wonderful morning. We’re moving pretty slowly over here after last night’s adventures. P is curled up on the couch with Bella, watching Elena, and I’m here sipping decaf in my jammies. I hope you had a fun and festive Halloween! Ours was a blast.

Audrey from Descendants 3 and Rolly from Puppy Dog Pals.

I helped out with Liv’s class Halloween party – I was the DJ for their dance party. We put YouTube up on the Smartboard and played Just Dance videos. The kids LOVE THEM and they had some super cute Halloween ones – and then took my last Hell Week class for Orangetheory.

I planned horribly and ended up having to take class 4 days in a row to get my shirt… and they didn’t have any more smalls. They ordered more so I’ll get it in the next week or so, but I was thinking to myself that the shirt was my only motivation and then I didn’t get one lol.

I dressed up like a unicorn for class and my tail only mildly got in the way for rowing and sit-ups to jump squats.

I came home for back-to-back conference calls and then picked up the girls for the rest of the day’s festivities. We are officially IN IT for best ages for Halloween. The girls were so excited about everything and had the best time.

We all met up at my dad’s house for Sonoran hot dogs, fruit, salad, and chips, and my stepmom made coffees and hot cocoa for everyone to take trick-or-treating. We had quite the caravan: my dad, stepmom, brother Bailey, his girlfriend Makenzie, her mom, my mom, my stepdad, Kyle, Meg, Everly, baby August, two of Kyle and Meg’s friends and their kiddos, and Meg’s parents. The only thing missing was the Pilot! He was flying all over the US for the last week and will be back later today. <3 The Halloween decorations were insane and the kiddos ran from house to house, checking out the decorations, being silly and giggling at each other, and eating candy in between.

For now, it’s time for the weekly Friday Faves party! Here are some fave finds from the week and around the web. I’d love to hear about your faves, too, if you’ll shout out something you’re loving in the comments section.

Plant wall

Since we finally painted the red wall “Agreeable Grey,” I was looking for some art or something to spruce it up. I kept thinking about the plant walls in Prep & Pastry and we decided to make our own version. We picked up the shelves at Target,

and went to Lowe’s for a variety of tall and short plants, with mixed pots. I love how it turned out and is now one of my fave spots in the house.

Pumpkin Organifi! I’ve been drinking this for at least a month before bed. It tastes like pumpkin pie and has soothing reishi, turmeric, and is a great way to wind down before going to sleep. I’ll froth it up with almond milk and sprinkle cinnamon on top. (I don’t have a referral code but I use Shawn’s from the Model Health Show. You get 20% off with the code MODEL)

Fashion + beauty:

Obsessed with this holiday eye palette from Beautycounter. I used it for Liv’s eye makeup last night and I love that I’m using safe ingredients around her little eyes.

Wubby fleece is on sale! Ordering another one today.

Express is 50% off all dresses! LOVE this jumpsuit, this sweater dress, this shirt dress, and this leopard mini.

Read, watch, listen:

An unexpected story of love at first sight.

Latest post for WebMD on how to include more produce in your routine.

Tips to soothe your anxious mind.

Lessons from the life of Dolly Parton.

Happy Friday! xo

Gina

The post Friday Faves appeared first on The Fitnessista.

Friday Faves published first on https://olimpsportnutritionde.tumblr.com/

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botanistlester · 8 years ago

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Porcelain and Window Panes

Prompt: Dan sees a a beautiful man doodling on a foggy window in a cafe and can't get him out of his head. He comes everyday at the same time to see the beautiful stranger. Word Count: 3671 Warnings: Cussing, light angst A/N: Thank you to @philestergifs for this amazing prompt! It took so long to write this for some reason (I've been writing it since October???) and I'm so happy I could finally get it out! Special thanks to @theinsanityplays as well for giving me some feedback for this fic ^-^ I also didn’t have a beta so sorry for any errors but I hope everyone likes it! Read it on AO3!

To say Dan was having a terrible day was an understatement.

He woke up late, having forgotten to set an alarm for work, so he had to rush through his morning routine. This meant he wasn’t able to take an hour long shower like he was used to and he couldn’t straighten his hair. Thanks to genetics, his hair dried in curly ringlets that stuck out in every direction.

He also had to skip breakfast, which is bad in itself, but he soon found out that his coffee machine had stopped working as well. Dan with curly hair and no morning caffeine? Not a good idea.

So he went for the best option of going to the nearest coffee shop and ordering a french vanilla latte to go.

The wait was nearly impossible to sit through, especially with Dan’s habit of being too impatient for his own good. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, practically quivering in his shoes at each name that was called. His eyes were frantic while he tried to distract himself from the inevitable doom that was this horrible morning.

His gaze ended up landing on a man. He couldn’t have been much older than Dan, a porcelain complexion making his cheeks look especially rosy in the winter cold. He was sat by the window with a half empty coffee in a porcelain mug. From where Dan was standing, he could just make out a small heart drawn in the froth of the drink. But that wasn’t what caught his attention, no.

What caught Dan’s attention was how the man was doodling in the condensation on the glass window.

It was a strange occurrence. No grown man would usually be drawing in the fogged window. But here he was, a calm expression on his face as he drew a little christmas tree, moving to then doodle presents under it. His fingers were long and pale and touched the glass so delicately, as if he were caressing a lover.

“French vanilla latte for Dan!”

Dan shook his head and turned away from the doodling man, taking his drink from the barista with a light smile. He took a sip of his coffee and it was good. Really good. He’d definitely have to come here more often. But that thought could wait because he was already late for work and that just couldn’t slide this time.

With one last glance at the man by the window, Dan left. He couldn’t help but to ponder the way the man’s expression was so carefree. So oblivious to the world around him.

As Dan walked quickly to his work, coffee in hand and curly hair flying around his head, he couldn’t help but wish that he could be that peaceful.

Dan found himself in the little coffee shop (he now noticed it was named The Caffeinery) only a few days later, his feet seeming to bring him there of his own free will. He wasn’t late for work this time, having a day off for once, so he allowed himself to fully appreciate the atmosphere of the little family-run shop.

As soon as he walked in, a gust of hot air and scent of espresso was hitting him in the face, immediately warming his rosy cheeks. He lowered his black scarf a little and rubbed his hands together, attempting to warm himself up as he waited in line. His eyes flitted around the shop, searching, surveying. For what, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he couldn’t complain when his gaze fell on a semi-familiar head of black hair.

Dan’s lips curved upwards at the sight of his slender fingers tracing patterns in the fogged window, just as carefree as last time. It was refreshing to see such a thing, and Dan decided to get his coffee to dine in rather than to go.

He ordered a white chocolate mocha and the barista called his name after five minutes of waiting. The drink was presented in a delicate ceramic mug and a heart was drawn in the foam, something that Dan hadn’t exactly been expecting but wasn’t upset to see. It was an accurate representation of the peaceful aura around them and Dan decided then that he would return in the future.

He took a seat next to the windows, close enough to the black-haired man, but far enough away that he didn’t have to succumb to his social anxiety. He tried not to pay much attention to the man, tried not to seem like a stalker, but the man was far too into his own thoughts to even notice Dan there at all. From where he was sitting, Dan could see that the guy was doodling badly drawn portraits of dogs and cats and even a Christmas tree and a Menorah.

Dan wanted to ask the man why he was drawing all of that stuff, but he couldn’t find it inside of him to disrupt the silence and just sipped on his coffee instead. The foam stuck to his upper lip as the hot liquid filled his mouth. He let out a contented hum, closing his eyes as the familiar taste of white mocha calmed his nerves.

Why he was nervous, Dan didn’t know, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the reason for it was because of a stunning man only a few seats before him.

When he opened his eyes, it was to a pair of bright blue ones looking right back at him. Dan’s entire body felt warm and he didn’t know whether it was because of that heated stare or because of the hot drink he was downing. He tried to blame it on the latter, but it was hard to think at all when the man smirked at him, those blue eyes shining before turning back to the fogged window.

Out of embarrassment, Dan drank his coffee a bit too fast. It burnt his throat, but he hardly noticed. He didn’t look at the Doodling Man until he left, too mortified that they’d made eye contact to even try attempting.

But when he spared one last look as he opened the glass doors, the cold air biting him in his face, Dan couldn’t help but smile softly. Because on the glass of the window was a small, badly drawn picture of a man with a fringe. And while that could definitely be a self-portrait the man had drawn, Dan had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t.

Dan didn’t know what to do, his cheeks flaming as he ducked his head, staring into the swirling brown depths of his coffee. He tried his hardest to get his thoughts together, to stop himself from thinking so hard, but this mystery man was just so endearing that he could hardly get his mind off of him.

Maybe, if he were someone else, Dan would get up from his chair and sit beside the man. He would ask his name and try to get to know him. Maybe he would even ask him on a date.

But sadly, Dan was, well, Dan.

So he sat. And he sipped his coffee. And when his coffee was gone, he stood from his chair and made his way over to the door.

Except, with a quick burst of confidence right before he sprinted away from his table, he put his finger to the glass and he drew. In his wake was a small doodle of a sun with sloppy words next to them that read, “Have a good day!”

Right before he turned the corner and disappeared out of the shop, Dan could have sworn he even saw the man staring at Dan’s doodle, smiling gently to himself.

But of course, it could have been his imagination.

“Where’s your head at, Howell?”

Dan turned to stare at his friend and coworker, Louise, with curiosity staining his features. He cocked his head to the side, having a weird moment where he felt like a dog. “Excuse me?”

She smiled at him, reaching up to mess with his hair and brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Her own blue eyes were sparkling at him. “You’ve been staring out of the window for the past ten minutes. Something on your mind?”

Dan shrugged. “I suppose the sugar from my coffee’s just getting to my head.”

If only she knew just how much it really was.

Dan found himself taking time out of his usual lazy day just to make a weekly trip to The Caffeinery. When weekly visits seemed to be too little time spent zoning out and staring at bad drawings in condensation, Dan moved his weekly trip to two days per week. Then it escalated to three times per week.

Of course, this was just because the coffee at The Caffeinery was extremely good. That’s what Dan has been trying to convince himself of, at least.

It was mildly true, in Dan’s defense. The coffee was the best he’s ever had, swirling with cream in a white porcelain mug. If he ordered just a plain black coffee, he would get a large thermal and a black porcelain mug that reflected his inner soul. There was a variety of music playing softly through the speakers, ranging from awful 70’s pop to modern Indie. There were vases with flowers on each table, vegan and gluten-free cupcakes in the display case with pastel pink icing and a raspberry on top, and friendly chatter that was a gentle hum in the back of Dan’s head.

It was arguably the best coffee shop Dan has ever been to, but he couldn’t deny that there was another reason that made Dan keep coming back. And maybe, just maybe, that had to do with a certain black-haired man who liked to draw on condensation-y windows.

His name was Phil. Dan had learnt that a few days ago when he’d somehow managed to turn up to the shop earlier than the subject of his admiration had. The employees hadn’t even had to ask for the man’s name, giving him wide smiles and asking him how his day was going instead. Phil, in turn, had explained that he was trying to escape from his flatmate’s new puppy who liked to pee on his feet whenever he saw him. The fact made Dan smile, his stomach clenching an embarrassing amount.

Phil paid, and a few seconds later, the barista was calling his name, bright and clear and for the entire world to hear, and Dan could hardly keep his excitement in when he finally, finally, learnt the name of the man he’d been pining after for weeks. Phil. It suited him.

Even though Dan had gone to the little coffee shop just for Phil in the first place, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at Phil for long periods of time. It was like he was trying to stare at the fucking sun or something, trying to look at Phil without actually looking at him. Like Phil was too beautiful of a creature to properly look directly at.

So he simply didn’t look at him straight on. Instead, Dan would give him little stares out of the corner of his eye, pulling up his laptop and pretending to type something when he was actually zoning out at the gorgeous stranger before him. Sometimes, Dan would even sit with his back facing Phil, staring at him from the reflection of the screen.

It was pathetic. Dan was pathetic. He was twenty-five years old and couldn’t even talk to other human beings that he so obviously fancied.

He did notice one thing, however.

When Dan had walked into the coffee shop on that first day, Phil was lost in his own little world. He was beaming even though there was nothing that made him smile in particular. Everything he did was joyous and upbeat, and it made the entire atmosphere just a tad nicer.

After a few weeks, that changed, just a little bit more every time Dan entered the shop. Over the next month, Phil’s attitude seemed to change completely. He stilled doodled on the windows, still drank his coffee slowly, but he’d do so with a slight downturn of his lips. Dan wanted to look at him, see what he was drawing, maybe even ask what he was sad about, but he held himself back. He grounded himself, trying his hardest not to make a fool out of himself.

He didn’t want to freak out a pretty man that he’d practically been stalking for the past few weeks.

Phil didn’t seem to get better at all, to the point where he eventually stopped drawing in the condensation and instead just sat there with his mug between his hands. He would only be there for about ten to twenty minutes before getting up, disposing his mug in the dish bucket, and promptly leaving. Each time, Dan stared after him desperately until Phil was out of sight, leaving behind a window with a large swipe through it - probably so he could see out the window to the streets - or completely void of disturbance at all.

Dan didn’t know what was wrong, but he was too afraid to find out. What a fucking wimp, he was.

It was after a week where he hadn’t been able to go to the coffee shop at all due to work responsibilities that something strange happened. He had been shaking with anticipation, wondering how Phil was doing and if he was feeling better, his stomach clenching as he thought about the coffee he’d been lacking the entire week along with the pure desperation just to get a glance of that beautiful, gorgeous face he’d grown so accustomed to.

The barista grinned at him as he walked in. “Dan!” She exclaimed, making Dan’s eyebrows raise a little in surprise. “You haven’t been here in forever. Same as usual?”

Dan smiled back and nodded eagerly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phil’s figure, looking tense. “That sounds wonderful. It’s great to be back,” he replied softly.

Then it happened, and Dan felt as if his entire world crumbled.

As soon as Dan was finished speaking, Phil grabbed his porcelain mug, set it forcibly in the dirty dish bin, and stiffly walked out the door. Dan frowned, knowing that it probably wasn’t he who was making Phil upset, but wondering if he had somehow pissed off Phil without knowing. But how could that even be possible? He’d never talked to Phil before, never even had a proper conversation. So how could he have upset Phil?

It was dumb, he was dumb, but maybe Dan just was one of those people who always thought everybody was mad at him for no reason at all. That had to be it, because there was no way a stranger he’d never even talked to before was pissed at him. It just wasn’t level headed of him to think.

But when it happened two more times, Dan was pretty sure he wasn’t just imagining it. It was bothering him, making him wonder what he could have possibly done, making him wonder why the subject of his interest was so opposed to even being in the same room as him. The situation was seriously making Dan upset. Every time Phil would leave, the people working would give Dan a knowing look, as if they understood why Phil was leaving, as if they knew exactly why Dan suddenly had a sad look on his face.

That’s why Dan made a plan. Come the weekend when he didn’t have work, Dan would arrive earlier than he usually did. He would see if Phil was there, see if he could possibly catch him before he left, maybe even get Phil to let Dan know what was wrong and why he couldn’t stomach being in the same room as him. He didn’t know if it was going to work, if Phil was even going to be there or if Dan would get enough guts to actually talk to him in the first place.

All of his thoughts seemed to still, though, when Dan saw Phil through the window of the Caffeinery. He froze in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring when people knocked into him and proceeded to curse at him for stopping so suddenly. There was a roaring in his ears and Dan’s heart quickened in his chest. He could feel his cheeks flaming already.

Phil was there as per usual, sitting at the table by the window. He wasn’t drawing in the window, but he was sipping at his drink, the froth leaving a little mustache on his upper lip before he licked it away. Instead of being tense, he was relaxed and reading a large book, his lips twitching up in a small smile. He seemed like the Phil that Dan had seen all those weeks ago, completely carefree and void of any negative emotions. Without Dan there.

If this didn’t steel Dan’s fears, then he didn’t know what else would.

With a newfound energy, Dan was suddenly crashing through the door. He didn’t stop at the counter to order his drink, knowing they would probably start making it for him regardless. When Phil took sight of Dan, his demeanor changed to a frown, and Dan was completely positive that he had done something to make Phil hate him.

He came to a stop at Phil’s table just as Phil was bookmarking his page and seemingly ready to get up to leave. Phil froze at Dan’s presence and his eyes were wide when he took in Dan’s sweaty and panting form. He didn’t say anything, just stared at Dan with something like surprise on his face, his lips parted slightly. He didn’t say anything, not like Dan would have given him a chance to anyways.

Before Dan could wimp out, he was speaking, his words pretty much melding together into one single breath, words without spaces. His face was going even redder as he spoke, but he pushed it aside. This was important. This was a life or death situation. “Are you mad at me? Because I don’t really know what I’ve done but whenever I walk into the shop you always seem really upset and you started leaving whenever I come in but when I saw you through the window you seemed really relaxed and like your usual self? I dunno maybe I’m overreacting but I don’t want you to be mad at me and I just- yeah.” Dan cleared his throat, voice going quieter with his embarrassment. “I just need to know if I’ve done something?”

Phil stared at him. He stared and stared and stared until Dan was certain he’d just ruined any chances with this guy. Dan was about to apologise and scramble away when Phil chuckled, hiding his smile underneath his hand. His blue eyes were gleaming, and for once, it was at Dan. “You’re really daft, aren’t you?” Phil asked nonchalantly.

Dan spluttered. “Excuse me?”

Phil was shaking his head. He let his hand fall, showing off those beautiful pink lips once more. Up close, they looked even more kissable. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks. I thought you rejected me, if I’m being honest. But it seems like you weren’t even aware of it yourself.”

Once again, Dan was at a loss for words. He gaped at Phil, his mouth dropped open. “I- What?”

How could Phil be so calm? He had an easy smile on his face and he was cool and collected with each of Dan’s dumbfounded questions. If Dan were in Phil’s shoes, he would probably be shaking like a leaf. “In the window?” Dan stared at him and Phil snickered. “I asked you to join me for coffee one day in the condensation. You didn’t notice so I tried again the next day and the next, but you never answered me. I figured you were ignoring me and not interested.” He shrugged as if to say ‘it’s as easy as that’, but Dan was still having fucking heart palpitations.

After another moment of Dan’s silence, he finally shook himself, trying to come up with an answer for Phil. His brain seemed to be fried though, because he just gasped out, “You want to get coffee with me?”

Phil laughed loudly, his eyes crinkling and his entire face brightening in a smile. He didn’t cover his mouth with his hand and his tongue poked out cutely between his teeth. Dan decides right then and there that this is what a God looks like. “Isn’t that what I just said?” Phil mused, and his eyes were fond even though they’d never spoken before. “I’ve been pining after you for weeks, I think you definitely owe me some coffee after making me go through that.” Phil voice was teasing and it made Dan laugh, his entire body relaxing along with his racing thoughts.

All this time, Dan had been worried that Phil hated him when it had been the exact opposite. He really was daft, wasn’t he?

“I’d buy you a coffee now, but it seems like you beat me to it,” Dan said dramatically, complete with a huge offended sigh as he gestured to the porcelain mug sitting on Phil’s table.

“Looks like we’ll have to meet here again tomorrow then, huh?” Phil asked. “What a shame.”

Dan smiled widely, feeling his dimple make a cave in his cheek. His chest was literally buzzing with butterflies, warmth filling his entire body. “I suppose so,” he agreed.

The huge misunderstanding was definitely worth it, in Dan’s opinion. It goes to show what their personalities were like, making a rather funny ‘how we met’ story to anybody who wondered.

And he truly couldn’t complain. Especially not when he was sitting in a small coffee shop only a few months later, a gorgeous man with blue eyes and a cute smile drawing pictures in the condensation of a window. Except this time, Dan was drawing with him too.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phansdick #fanfic #fanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #writing #gay #fic #phan fluff #coffee shop #phan au #dan howell #phil lester #gettingtogether

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sailingbrisa · 8 years ago

Text

February Adventure!

As February comes to a close… I figure it is time to post some of this months action….. However there has been so much of it that I feel like it is too long of a story.

Before I left my job and my little house in Panama life went by very very quickly… now it seems to be doing the opposite, days filled with activity and adventure, floating leisurely by.

The Coombes family may have misplaced their boat, ( read about it on their blog https://westerlyadventures.wordpress.com ), but I am very happy to say they have definitely not lost their spirit, and early every morning for almost the last three weeks I have woken up on Brisa to the sound of happy family noises. Sometimes it sounded more like a large heard of elephants… but always no matter what there were little happy voices saying in awesome English accents, Mummy I’m starrrrving. Then kids learning times tables, parents frothing over the possibility of surf ( both Fran and James are just big groms still, and James will LITERALLY surf anything….and for that matter eat almost anything, no matter what it smells like… ), he is however a bit of an anomaly, charging literally dry reef breaks without a scratch, only to making sure to take skin off of his left leg at every other fairly easy surf spot after that. ) If you check their blog you can also see their thoughts on the Brisa adventure.

There was hiking,…sighting another fish off of BVI chart of fish that the kids scrounged up somewhere, free dive training, party pool sitting, surfing, lobster hunting, paddle boarding, tow surfing, kite flying, swimming, paddle training, headstand practice etc. Brisa has never before seen so much energy, enthusiasm and full time activity since I have owned her. I have no idea how James and Fran keep the hectic pace up. Needless to say everyone sleeps very early and very well, usually going to bed with nightfall around 730 or 8.

Without a doubt I think the Penguins of Madagascar will eternally be burned into my brain. The kids fell in love with that movie.

Today is the first time I have woken up to a quiet, still boat in a very long time and it took a bit of adjusting… so I went back to sleep and woke up a bit later today. However I do miss the little monsters!

Lets go back a bit to where this month started …. Quite hard to think back to when we arrived in the BVIs as we have been so many places and seen and done so many things. Brisa and crew ( read that to mean Coombes family ) arrived in Virgin Gorda about 3 or four days before Susi and Bills MaiTai ( www.maitai.com ), this year combined with www.xtremetechchallenge on Sir Richard Bransons Necker Island. We spent the time napping, homeschooling, hiking and trying to find good fresh fruit…. $5. Usd for a small ( but yummy ) grapefruit. We found tins of tuna that were $1.05 in St Martin for $3.85c, basically everything and anything is triple the price if you are in a boat harbor in the BVIs. Also $35 dollars a night for a mooring ball. Needless to say we have a great anchor and have only paid for one night on a mooring.

We were expecting at least three additional guests onboard for four or five days. Cameron Dietrich from www.Kiteclub.com, an old friend was the guest of honor and much to the kids enjoyment very happy to sit and talk story with them for hours. Unfortunately he was off on a beautiful super yacht for most of the time he was here, taking good care of his VIP guests in the BVI. We didn’t see a lot of him other than when we woke up in the AM and before he was off for his days adventure.

The first day of MaiTai kicked off and I took the dingy up to Necker to see the crew. It was quite a bit different this year with security greeting me at the beach and after a few radio calls I was sent up to the main beach house, walking past my old friends the Lemurs, parrots and newish arrivals, Toucans. I had never been up close to these beautiful birds, so I stopped and checked them out for a while… then walked up the stairs greeted by Sabine Schindlbauer, u I walked up to See Susi and she was sitting with Richard and Ben Meyer so after a few hugs and his we sat at lunch for a while and talked story and catching up .. mostly fishing this time. The infamous Marlin story was re-told and we sat for half and hour catching up with Susi and Ben with Richard entertaining us.

That night we had two more of our guests arrive on Brisa. I can honestly say that I had not met an astrophysicist before, but these two guys were prototype drone specialists, building their own amazing three D drone. ( we watched it on VR goggles and it was literally an amazing tour of Necker Island ( see if there is a link ) It was a total pleasure to have Both Nicolas Chibac and Markus Bobbe from Germany sleeping with us on Brisa. Check out their website and have a look at their absolutely amazing 3d drone footage. http://www.spicevr.com

Was also great to see Bill Tai again after four years and as always the awesome team on Necker.

I also had the pleasure to kitesurf with President Obama for an hour or so. His secret service team was right there beside the Necker boat teaching him how to kite all the time and wouldn’t let us get too close…. But I can say I have now kited with the president.

https://www.virgin.com/richard-branson/richard-vs-barack-kiteboard-and-foilboard-challenge

The next day was nice and windy so Cam and I went for a kite from Virgin Gorda to Necker and I got to hang for ages with Ben and the Mai Tai kite crew on the beach. Awesome fun and perfect 12m kite weather, with crystal clear water and spectacular reef.

As all our MaiTai guests departed at the end of the week, Brisa once again went back to the core crew and we set sail early one morning for Anegada, as part of a daily flotilla of charter boats heading that way. It was a nice fast two hour sail up there in some choppy seas and up to 22 knots of wind. We towed both dinghy’s and hit a top speed of 9.2 knots, slowing ourselves so not to have the dinghy’s fly out of the water.

We originally anchored close to the main mooring field amongst the rowdy charter boats, but soon found a great anchorage further west in front of an amazing kiting beach… so we moved Brisa down there and anchored in about 7 feet of water swimming distance to a picture perfect white sand beach. The Coombes went for waves, the kids and I chilled and watched the sunset and flew the drone.

We kited, surfed and explored the island… awesome kiting.. awesome location and highly recommended as a surf, or kite destination.

Our next port of call was the Baths on the southern end of Virgin Gorda and let me tell you. SPECTACULAR. The water was so clear and calm you didn’t need to get in the water to go snorkeling.. you could just sit on the boat and watch the fish from the deck. The amazing swim-throughs in the huge boulder field, combined with teaming sea life, made this probably one of the kids favorite stops, and we all enjoyed all day long snorkeling and exploration. If you have not seen this place, it is truly spectacular, with some of the clearest waters I have seen so far.

We left the Baths and headed for Cane Garden Bay in front of a nice looking North East swell. We anchored in Cane in amongst the mooring field and got chased out to another part of the Bay by Slim.. the guy collecting the money for the moorings. We spent a couple of great days in Cane before the swell arrived, of course in the middle of the night of the full moon party, accompanied by unbearably loud mid 90s gangster rap, proudly sung along to by the horrendous DJ. I really thought how horrible the experience must have been for the guests, if they were not born in or around 1980 in Compton, lived a life of crime and somehow managed to get to the full moon party in Cane Garden Bay…

Anyways.. the boat was rolling and bashing and booming and Brisa clearly loved the music as she danced the night away on top of the waves as they grew. After not sleeping at all, we all got up at three am and moved the boat to a little sheltered corner of the bay and caught a couple of hours sleep before the first of many surf sessions on a beautiful long right point break. The crowd was very chill and loads of great surf for everyone. I managed to surf three boards during the day. Got lucky with one stupid wipeout as I landed bum first on my quad fins, knocking out two of the fin boxes. Luckily I did not manage to cut my bum on the fins… bit bruised, but no blood. Buns of steel. The board didn’t fear so well and will need some repair at the next board repair stop.

The next morning we woke up early, watched the little waves peeling along the point and pulled anchor and headed to meet up with Tash, the owner of the Coombes new home for a week or two, aboard Puffin. We went into Road Town, had some Great Conch fritters, took care of immigration extensions and found the surf shop still there for James to get some new fins. Then off to drop off my awesome crew form England in Trellis bay, with just a slight detour into Fat Hog Bay as I may have gotten a little lost… :o

We unloaded Brisa and loaded Puffin, did laundry, ate chicken roti while clothes dried and Tash cooked a fantastic meal to welcome the Coombes family from Brisa. I downloaded the damn Penguin movie and all the amazing photo memories onto James’ hard drive, and with a bit of a teary farewell said goodbye to the Coombes, for now as I am sure our paths will cross again, probably Wednesday as we go back to Cane Garden to chase some more point break perfection. I had to find a way out of the mooring bouy field in Trellis Bay, not an easy thing to do on a very dark night, so after creeping carefully out at about 9 pm, I motored up to Virgin Gorda sound again, arriving about 10.30 pm anchored and had a fantastic sleep in the same exact spot as we had originally anchored, only three weeks before.

This morning I spent it cleaning up, washing down Brisa and did a little shopping. The trip back to St. Martin from the BVIs Is not pleasant to say the least so I have been watching the weather closely. The plan for now is to go back down to Cane Garden tonight, surf Wednesday, Thursday am and leave back to Virgin Gorda Thursday, in time to check out of customs, leaving BVI for St. Martin late Thursday night, arriving in the afternoon Friday if I'm lucky.

The next installment will cover the next amazing surf.. the trip home.. some deep sea adventures in a cold front, a little marlin story and a lot of maintenance!

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