#i rented a wheelchair for a day a while back and it was great and all

[an--artistic--autistic]

one of my friends may be able to get me a rollator 🎉

it belonged to their grandmother (i think?) and they've been given the OK to give me one which is actually really exciting

[raceweek]

hello. alexalblondo's rude anon coming here to humbly and politely beg for galex primer because i dont understand their history. george said he lived at alex's family's house at one point? how - weren't they already racing? sorry thank you humble thank you 🙏🙏

hello!!! thanks chris for the referral FKFJDKD

i have overwhelmed my alex and george tags so much that i fear i could never capture all of it but my galex key moment anthology is under the cut!!

karting/early single seaters

Alex thinks they met in 2011 but the footage in georges flip phone says he knew alex back in 2009.

Their first actual interaction (so far as they've told the world) was when alex was world champion with the intrepid karting team and bc he was their reference driver he was asked to help pick the drivers who were quick to replace him when he moved up and he picked george (and charles) so they were then part of that same intrepid driver programme for a while. Interestingly, alex was always at least one year above him bc of their ages and george says the fact they didn't really race directly against each other before 2016 was probably why they became such good friends.

They did a deep dive of their camera rolls from this time on twitch a couple years back and talked about the oldest pictures they have of each other in their camera rolls (1:25:36) which was cute.

2017

2017 is the year george basically lived with alex. They were also sharing a trainer whilst alex was competing in gp2 and george was in gp3. George was doing mercedes sim work at their factory so rented a flat in milton keynes near where alex lived but according to alex that rent was wasted money bc george had more meals at alexs' house than he did that year. Also as detailed in those links, the Great Mountain Biking Incident of 2017 occurred at this time so we have the fun mental image of george literally wheeling alex into a&e on a wheelchair bc that is an actual event that happened.

2018

George and alex both in f2 fighting for the title year wooooo!! They never really fought on track but we did get fun tidbits like when alex pipped george to the win at silverstone bc george had a slow pit stop and giggled about it in parc ferme (5:42) & these post session interviews.

also some incredible photoshoots.

2019

Promotion to f1!!! We started the year at winter testing and this nugget that they have both accepted that they are actually tied together by the strings of fate. They're doing fun media stuff like karting and bullying each other over percentage of apexs hit at the skypad (video). 2019 also the start of the umbrella sharing. They were just together a lot… more skypad analysis!!!

2019 also has MY personal favourite galex moment which was hockenheim 2019 and the 45 minute phone call galex had on the way home after george missed out on scoring what would have been his first point in f1 and only point of the season.

There was also the summer break and enjoying a training camp together, exchanging infections etc. Alex also took george to meet lily for the first time, bc that’s a normal thing to do.

There was also the rookie of the year vid, and the rookie season review vid at the end of the year. Much was happening.

2020

The year started with f1 trying to race during a global pandemic. Fun! On the singular media day before everyone realised just how stupid that was they were being annoying. The lockdowns did give us the twitch streams. George was initially so bad at virtual racing he had to secretly consult alex's brother for help behind alexs back. George was also actively seeking alex out like a missile at any given opportunity and at one point felt necessary to declare that he wasn't alexs boyfriend when someone asked if alex was going to be streaming that day. Anyway my lockdown twitchscapades tag has a post with a playlist of all the streams that haven't been lost or deleted if you want to feel joy and have a spare million hours.

Racing resumed in July with the covid team bubbles and within two races and one qualifying session george was defending alexs honour to sky sports and the world in a truly remarkable fashion.

At the end of the year alex was unemployed....even more tragic than this loss was that alexs career difficulties were so extreme he started ghosting george, which devastated him to the extent he needed to publicly drag him for it.

There was also george asking lily to post alexs n*des on instagram and lily responding with if anyone has them it would be you which was perhaps the last time george had access to his own social media password.

Despite george not liking it they celebrated alexs first podium by going golfing! and reverse! George was also gifted an alex albon signed autograph card for christmas and said that he'll put it somewhere special x

2021

The beginning of 2021 was during lockdown and there was more fun virtual gps except the only two drivers doing it were george and alex so they were just bitching and gossiping and threatening to steal strategies and abu dhabi 2016 each other. Particular shoutout to the time they had a virtual race on valentines day and alex put a suit on for it and george was baffled. Immediately after valentines day was georges birthday which lily used to thank george for letting her borrow his boyfriend from time to time.

Then the season started with george enduring the season alexless and not letting anyone forget about it. Alex was turning up to races after being locked in the simulator until the early hours posting stuff like this on instagram and otherwise stumbling over his words after getting whipped on the ass.

Perhaps the defining moment of the galex 2021 season was george pushing the williams board to sign alex so heavily that they had to actively shut him out of proceedings. Also at this time there was this cute congrats from alexs family and one from alex to georgie about the mercedes seat.

anyway here's some more random 2021 nuggets:

i've seen him topless a few times

george getting alex a good deal on a merc x

yet More golf

the handover

georges driver room

2022

They truly lost every inch of personal space in 2022 like. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. The back signing Hello.

2022 had alex having his appendix out, nearly dying and alexs family updating george whilst alex was in the icu and then when alex returned for the next race in signapore a couple weeks later (insane behaviour) george was like mmm audacious of him to be here.

Elsewhere alex discovered georges photoshoot and was making screensavers about it. Alex also discovered hair dye and george was making instagram stories about it.

other random 2022 nuggets:

george is alexs fave f1 driver excluding himself

this skit williams did of lily finding a huge picture of george in alexs driver room

whatever this image is of lily george and alex

private plane carpool

double date

2023

@onadarklingplain covers the whole year for you much MUCH better than i ever could here!!!!!

and that brings us to present where they're just as weird and freaky with each other as ever!!!

[al-kol-eleh]

Katherine Brodsky

A story I stumbled across on Quora... A widow and her children rent the house next door to you. While her religion is different, you welcome her to the neighborhood, but when you learn she actually plans to *buy* the house you’re shocked, you thought the HOA would not allow “those people” to outright own property in the neighborhood. You appeal to the HOA, to no avail, and one fine day she signs the deed and holds a house warming party. You’re furious. The very next day you and your extended family attack, trying to kill her and her family and take over her home. Surprisingly, she puts up a fight. You manage to kill one of her children, but she kills one of yours, and breaks your legs too. You’re now in a wheelchair. The law doesn’t act, and in fact you now collect a monthly paycheck due to your disability. You take the money, but you seethe at the injustice, tell the neighbors how the widow is actually squatting illegally in the house, and how she broke your legs and put you in a wheelchair. Some neighbors actually buy your story, others know you’re full of s#$t but still take your side, because you’re buddies and of the same religion. You then learn that it wasn’t just a random house the widow moved into. Her family originally built the house, but her great grandfather was kicked out by the HOA, which at the time had restrictions on religion. She was also kicked out of her previous home, again due to her religion. She’s doing well now, is hard working, has a great job, makes tons more money than you, has powerful friends. Over the years she has repeatedly offered to bury the hatchet and live side by side in peace. You dismissed these overtures and are now even angrier, and shout your victimhood from the rooftops, collect donations from naive strangers that feel sorry for your handicap, but you use the money to secretly stockpile weapons. Occasionally you have skirmishes, which you always lose. The woman builds a taller fence between your houses and gets a reinforced door. You’re not on speaking terms. You teach your kids that the highest goal in life is to murder your neighbor and die in the process, a sure way to get to heaven. One day the neighbor forgets to lock the door and you, still in your wheelchair but with your wife and kids, grab weapons, break into her house intending to murder the entire family and finally “take back what’s yours”. You manage to torture and kill one child before she and her children beat you to a pulp, kill your wife and another three of your children (you have *a lot*), cross over to your house and tear it apart. You whine about the injustice, and accuse the widow of ruthlessly attacking a cripple, murdering women and children, planning genocide against your family and destroying your home. The end of the story is still being written.

[psychologeek]

So, on my last fic I added somethings from my personal experience, as both disabled (though I don't use a wheelchair) and past youth at risk. And just, it got important to me, and I wanted to share it.

It's Barbara Gordon focused, and even though it's not JUST about her recovery, it's still part of it.

And it's just - it's really important to me. You CAN grieve what you'll never be, and what might have been taken from you. And you CAN be happy and proud as a disabled person. And both CAN co-exist at the same time.

I'm proud to be who I am (mostly). I think I'm going to a good place in life. But it doesn't change the fact that sometimes I hate the fact I need help in things, or the way my brain works, or how people don't seem to understand when I say-this is HARD for me.

And it's something that we can't usually show out. Bc when the world keep pushing you down, telling you you're wrong, unworthy, unable - you can only FIGHT or surrender. So we go out there, saying "no, I'm strong! No, I can do this! I'm great! I wouldn't change a thing!" And sometimes it's true. And sometimes it's less true, but we can't tell this to "outsiders" bc THEY DON'T GET IT.

Anyway, this is my take on Barbara Gordon. I hope you like this.

There are things (walking, running, grappling through the city at night, wind in her hair- ) she'll never do again. Other skills (dressing, washing, moving from one place to another-) she had to re-learn, finding new ways to do what was so easy before. It's been years, and she graduated college, even with the injury. (Study on painkillers, reading while doing the PT exercise). She got a job as a librarian. She learned new skills (rolling, coding, how to be the eye-in-the-sky, and coordinating big and small teams-). She's not the same person as she was. ("You evolved", grins the fifteen years old little shit who still lives, rent-free, in her head. "You're like a fucking Pokemon!")

I'm not a wheelchair user, but I had to use one for a few days last month. I use forearm crutches sometimes, for injuries or chronic pain. And I just thought it would be nice to add how much accessibility aids are AMAZING. Like, being disabled is hard - but it's not bc of the aids we need. On the contrary. Mobility (and other) aids HELP US. I love using crutches, bc it means less pain on bad days. It means I CAN leave my house, even during bad days. noise-blocking Headphones mean I can be around people even when things are harder.

I also tried to respect the grief and sadness about things that she can't do, or had to relearn how to do (differently) while showing it's not the end. It's hard, but things are possible.

[I hope it makes sense. Thinking is a little hard now]

***

The Back Room and Shelter are inspired by places I used to go as a teen. The BR, especially, is based on a specific YaR center that was my safe place, my shelter, during difficult times as a teen. When I didn't, couldn't trust anyone they were there. When I ran away, when I was homeless, they helped with food and getting housing.

They'll never read it, but thank you for being there.

[helliontherapscallion]

I'm sorry for adding on to your pile of requests but I just wanted some family fluff with sbi where all of the siblings are having fun on a road trip or vacation

I don't know if that's specific enough for you if you want a little more detail maybe they're just being really dumb and making stupid videos with each other because that's something my sister and I do a lot

(A/N): I hope you don’t mind that I added Kristin and Tubbo (BASED ON THE CHARACTERS, NOT ACTUAL PEOPLE). Real life AU btw (no covid tho)

Okokok so this is deadass something Philza and Kristin is both dreading and looking forward to

1. They love spending time with their family especially now since yall are getting older and don’t spend as much time together anymore/getting ready to fly the coop

2. Have you met the SBI fam? Chaos incarnated.

After packing, yall set out on your trip to the hotel yall rented for a week or so (about an eight hour drive away from the house)

You and your twin Tommy 100% smuggle Tubbo underneath all of the luggage and a blanket

You’ll just ask them for forgiveness when you’re about halfway through

It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission 

Wilbur and Technoblade catching you hiding the stowaway and blackmailing you both into doing their chores for a few week 

Seating: Phil and Kristin in the front, Tech and Wil in the middle, You and Tommy in the back, and Tubbo in the trunk (it’s a mom van)

Before getting too far into the trip, a gas station is raided for snacks and drinks

Philza raising a brow at the amount of food you and Tommy get 

Philza’s eyes were torn off from the refrigerator in front of him by his wife lightly nudging him. Looking at her in question, she raised her eyebrows and pointed at their youngest kids. It looked like they were just looking at the Monster drinks, so why- oh god the last thing he needed was two already hyper teenagers hopped up on Monster trapped in a car for eight hours. Before he could go over there to stop them, Kristin grabbed his arm. 

“They’re up to something. Listen to what they’re saying.”

He strained his ears to hear what you both are whispering to each other. “...e like this flavor?”

Tommy shrugged, “I dunno. I’ll text him.”

As Tommy texted someone, Phil looked back at his wife. She wore a similar wary expression as they both stared at each other. He nodded in confirmation, “definitely. How do you reckon we confront them?”

He watched as his wife thought for a moment before she sighed and looked at him with a hint of excitement in her eyes, “let’s wait to see. It might be a pleasant surprise.” 

“What? Are you mad?” He eyed his youngest gremlins once more. It seemed that they finally decided on a flavor and are now moving on to the snack portion. He looked back at his wife and felt his heart skip a beat at the small grin on her face. “...fine. Let’s just see what they’re doing after they do it.” Oh, the things he does for love.

He kept a very close eye on you two after that 

You both are on your phones for longer than usual

Texting Tubbo so that he wasn’t lonely 

Tubbo has fun with hiding too, never being bored at all

The only thing that he (and you and Tommy) struggled with was holding in his laughter

You jumped as you felt someone gently slap your shoulder. Turning around, you saw Tubbo’s hand peeking over the backs of the seats. You glanced at your parents in the front seats, they were deep in conversation. Good. You saw Tommy stifle a laugh and pull out his phone to record. 

Tubbo made grabby hands at something but you didn’t know what he wanted, so you decided to mess with him a bit. Smirking, you put your earbuds in his hand. It snaked back underneath the blanket before he threw it back at you and did more intense grabby hands. You put your metal water bottle in his hand. He did the same thing before he threw it back at you. It collided with your forehead with a loud bong sounding throughout the car. Tommy started to laugh loudly and ended the video. You followed suit in the laughter as Tubbo’s hand froze midair and quickly slinked back into his lair.

All noise in the car came to a halt as they all looked behind them (well, Phil glanced through the rearview mirror suspiciously) to see you and Tommy laughing your asses off with you holding your forehead. Through blurred vision, you could see Kristin looking at you with worry and Techno and Wilbur looking confused and mildly annoyed.

“(Y/n) honey are you alright? What happened?” You opened your mouth to respond, but only wheezes came out making you laugh harder. You could hear Tubbo silently cackling to himself in the back, the blanket shaking slightly. Without being able to speak, you only nodded your head and gave her a thumbs up. 

Tommy sent the video into the siblings' group chat and you could see over Wilbur’s shoulder as he watched it before starting to cackle and save the video to his phone. Even Techno got a good chuckle out and saved it to his phone making Phil and Kristin even more suspicious. Well, Kristin was just excited for what you two (four? Was Techno and Wilbur in on it as well?) had planned. Phil could just imagine the chaotic things you had planned. And he did not like what came to his mind.

When the rest stop came eventually (about three hours into the trip), you all left the car to stretch your legs and take care of business

Taking separate ways to walk in pairs (same person they sat next to in the car)

You and Tommy wait until Phil and Kristin leave before getting Tubbo out of the trunk

You three vibe walking along the winding sidewalks for a bit before you come back to the car and get Tubbo back into the trunk

You, however, forgot to use the bathroom so you leave Tommy and Tubbo in the car 

“Fuck, I forgot to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick, I’m not fuckin telling em if we forget you.”

“Pfft, they won’t forget me. Stop joking around.”

With that, you left the car and made a beeline to the bathroom. After that, you went back to the car. Well, where the car was supposed to be. There was no sight of a van anywhere in the parking lot. That asshole, he just let them drive off? He and Tubbo’s probably giggling to themselves in the backseat like school girls. You were only gone for like eight minutes. 

Sighing, you walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, pulling up Techno’s contact and calling him. 

He picked up after a few rings. The second you heard the dial tone stop, you spoke to him, “check the backseat.”

“What? You’re taking a nap, why’re you calling me I’m literally right in front of you.”

“Just fuckin check, Tech.”

In the background, you could hear Tommy snickering to himself. You heard some rustling before Techno started laughing, “Dad, we left (y/n) at the rest stop.”

“YEAH YA FUCKIN DID!” 

You could hear loud laughter from your brothers and muffled cursing from Phil. You heard Kristin tell Techno to hand her the phone. 

“We’re so sorry, we’re turning around right now. We’ll be there in about five minutes. Stay in one place and don’t talk to strangers.”

“I dunno Mom, that trucker looks really friendly. Might do some hitch hiking with him.”

You ended up befriending an old lady when she sat next to you on the bench with her husband. She even gave you some butterscotch and those strawberry hard candies that all older people somehow have but you can never find in stores. Her husband was telling you stories about his younger days when you saw the familiar van pull into the parking lot. Waving goodbye, you thanked them and hopped back into the car. 

After profuse apologizing from your family and scolding Tommy for tricking them, you were on the road again. You glared at Tommy with a small smile on your face, “you fuckin prick. Did you seriously make it look like I was sleeping under a blanket?”

“Yeah, I told you that I wouldn’t tell them if we forgot you.”

“You fuckin dick,” you grabbed a few butterscotches and strawberry candies and handed some to Tubbo after ensuring your parents weren’t looking. He took them gratefully and quickly. You heard him whisper a ‘thank you’ and opened them with plastic crinkling. 

“Wha- are those butterscotches? Gimme some.” He was about to snatch them out of your hands before you moved away from him. “No, you left me at the rest stop. You don’t get any. Do you guys want some? I’ve got butterscotches and strawberry candies.”

After you handed them out to your family, Phil looked at you confused in the rearview mirror, “(y/n), where’d you get these?”

“Oh, I just made some friends with an old couple while I was waiting.”

“You what? What if they kidnapped you?”

“Naw they couldn’t’ve. Ethel has hip problems and Charles was in a wheelchair. They were chill anyway.”

“...Just- just don’t do that again.” “Well don’t forget me again at a rest stop three hours away from home and you got yourself a deal.” 

After a while the family was chill again and everything was back to normal

It was getting closer and closer to when Tubbo would make his reveal

You three agreed that Tubbo would just wait for the perfect time 

That time came about three hours later when Phil and Kristin was asking everybody where they should stop for food

“So kids, we have three options: McDonalds, Wendy’s, and Arby’s. What do you want?”

“Wendy’s is obviously the superior choice.” Tommy proclaimed and you nodded in agreement. You leaned back and whispered to Tubbo, “now would be a great time.” You pulled out your phone to discreetly record the front seat. 

“No it isn’t. Arby’s is you heathens.” Wilbur chimed in, glancing at his twin for back up. Techno shrugged, “I’m fine with anything as long as it’s edible.”

“I’m more of a fan of Wendy’s myself!” Tubbo’s muffled voice chimed in from his makeshift hut in the trunk. You snickered as Kristin whipped her head around to look at the back seat and Phil’s eyes snapping up to look at you through the rearview mirror. 

“...Tubbo?”

“Hi Mrs. Tommy and (y/n)’s mum!” You flipped the camera around just in time to catch Tubbo poking his head out of the blanket and grin sheepishly at them. You panned over to Tommy’s ruby red face as he was holding in his laughter before flipping it back to the front. 

“You absolute gremlins, this is what you’ve been hiding?” Phil scolded you and Tommy, his knuckles whitening from gripping the steering wheel. You could see his shoulders bouncing slightly with a slight strain in his voice from holding in chuckles. 

“Honey, have you been in the trunk this entire time?” 

“Yeah, but it’s quite comfy back here! Tommy and (y/n) gave me pillows and some snacks. Got some stretching done at the rest stop.”

“You’ve been back there for six hours?” Phil’s incredulous voice asked. 

“Yep! Don’t worry, I had a lot of room. Anyways, my vote goes to Wendy’s.”

The car was quiet before Kristin started to laugh, “Wendy’s it is. See Phil, I told you it was gonna be a pleasant surprise!”

Tubbo sat between you and Tommy in the backseat for the rest of the trip 

Techno and Wilbur saying that they knew Tubbo was back there but left out the blackmail part

There was no way they’d risk losing their little siblings doing their chores for them for a few weeks

At the hotel, the rooming was the same as the seating in the car

You, Tommy, and Tubbo having the time of your lives alone in your hotel room

Jumping on the beds, checking for hidden cameras and double sided mirrors (well, that doesn’t sound fun, but you had fun doing it), truth or dare, racing each other down the halls at night time, the works

B L A N K E T  F O R T S (but always cleaning up the hotel room in the mornings bc yall are respectful to the staff)

Getting plenty of videos of you guys ding dong ditching Techno and Wilbur’s room

Them getting tired of it so they tell Dadza and Momza and they tell you to stop : (

Walking around aimlessly around the hotel hallways with Wilbur and Techno

Going up and down elevators aimlessly 

Pulling an all nighter with Tommy and Tubbo on the last day

Philosophical late night talks when yall hardly know what you’re saying anymore (and becoming closer than ever before)

“Tommy, Tubbo?” You three were currently sitting on the balcony chairs looking out at the empty parking lot and the occasional cars driving by. It was about three in the morning and you guys were determined to stay up all night. “If you think about it, a hotdog is puréed meat in an intestine casing. When we eat the hotdogs, we turn it back into puréed meat. It eventually goes through your intestines which makes you the hotdog for a solid couple of hours.”

“...What the fuck, (y/n).”

“No no, they’ve got a point. Don’t you understand, Tommy? We are hotdogs.”

“...I’m starting to think you guys need sleep. Speakin nonsense.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you two reckon we’re alone in the universe?”

“What do you mean, Tubbo?” You glanced at the male next to you and raised an eyebrow. He was looking up at the stars with furrowed brows. 

“Like, do you guys think there’s life out there. Looking down at us right now wondering the same thing.” 

You hummed and looked up at the stars. They were twinkling down at you with the occasional shooting star blazing by. Red lights from far off satellites being the only visible sign of humans in the dark expanse of space. “I think so. I mean, nobody knows how big the universe is. You never really know.”

“Honestly I don’t know what’s scarier, being the only lifeforms and being completely alone or having things out there that we don’t know about.” 

You sling an arm over your twin’s shoulders, “that doesn’t matter. As long as we have each other, we’ll never be alone. We’ll face whatever the universe has in store for us together.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I don’t know, I just hate it when people only see me as the loud annoying one. It really gets to me sometimes and I don’t know what I should do about it. Fuck, even Wil and Tech see me like that.”

“Toms, fuck them. They don’t know you like we do. You’re caring, ambitious, and brave.” 

“Yeah, don’t listen to what they say. We’ll prove them wrong when we form our own nation one day.”

Tommy’s sullen expression slowly melted into a smile, “yeah, I’d like that. You’d be the president.”

Tubbo grinned back at Tommy, “and you’ll be my trusty vice president and (y/n)’ll be our Secretary of State. We’ll rule together.”

“Our nation would be a place for people to escape tyranny and injustice. Somewhere where men could live free, you two would be amazing leaders.”

“What do we call it though is the question,” Tubbo hummed in thought.

“How about ‘Manberg’?”

You looked at your twin with half lidded, exhausted eyes, “I like it, but it needs more… pizazz. How about L’manberg?”

You watched as he smiled widely at the stars, “it’s perfect.”

Watching the sunrise together on the balcony wrapped in blankets

Sleeping on the rest of the way back home

Best sleep of your life

When you wake up (about an hour or so away from home), you see that there’s blankets over you three and you had your head on Tubbo’s shoulder, Tubbo had his leaned up against the seat behind him, and Tommy’s cheek was squished against the window

You stretch out your limbs a bit trying not to disturb the two beside you

Checking your phone to see pictures of you three sleeping sent into the family group chat with Kristin replying with a bunch of heart emojis

You send the videos and pictures you took along the way of you, Tommy, and Tubbo doing stupid things in the hotel room and in the car

If you looked in the middle row, you could see Wilbur watching the scenery pass by out the window with his earbuds in

Techno is reading one of his books (you have no idea how he doesn’t get car sick)

Phil and Kristin are talking lowly to each other holding hands on the center counsel 

Soft radio music is playing in the background

Life is good

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby  @izzybobizzy13  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @bunnyz-pxstel  @averytiredfanfictionwriter  @dcml04  @sparkling-gayyyy  @bbigbbrainn  @thaticecreambish  @kiinokochii  @satansphatass  @bxkubitch  @bxmentchildxx  @roxy3457  @montygator17  @feverish-dove  @the-fictionwriters-hairdo  @jichuuchaeng  @404rynnotfound  @luluwinchester  @laura--444  @the-cult-classic-bitch  @youngstarfishdinosaur  @nottheotheruser

[queer-adhd]

So today I took rouke out to town while I was doing my weekend chores, because it hasn't had a proper trip outside in way too long.

Anyway we got all of our chores done, even managed to get some cheap squishmallows (they really help with rouke's back problems and tbh they're way cheaper than actual orthopaedic pillows lol) and were just on our way back home feeling vaguely accomplished when we ran into a guy we knew.

He was homeless, and we were used to seeing him sat around out neighborhood. He's a nice guy, always recognises rouke and the dog, even me, which is novel. I'm stupidly forgettable when I'm the guy pushing the wheelchair, so almost nobody ever recognises me if they've met us before as a trio. We said hi, I grabbed some change, and he started telling us how things were going and why he was so far from his usual stomping grounds.

Turns out my guy had been on a waiting list for govt housing for four years, and a couple weeks back he'd finally gotten housed. Which was great! Except his housing had processed, but his financial aid hadn't. So he was still stuck asking for money for his pay as you go electrical meter, because without it he couldn't get light, couldn't keep his food good, and couldn't cook anything to eat.

Anyway, thanks to y'all we actually managed to cover bills and rent and food and a few extras and still had some cash left over! Thank you all so much.

It meant that we could get £20 out for him so he could actually heat his house and eat, and sit him down for a hot chocolate and talk. The guy running the cafe was incredibly nice, and once he realised we were buying this dude a drink, he ran to the back and gave us a toasted sandwich somebody had left without collecting.

(the lady behind us in queue was quite obviously politely furious about all of this. Fuck her.)

Anyway my guy's apparently been waiting for universal credit for over a month now, and he's stuck on a pay as you go meter that charges him extra for the privilege of not being able to afford heat. It's only been getting worse as heating bills rise here, and it'll get worse yet soon enough.

He tried to refuse the hot chocolate at first btw until we made it clear that it was no strings and we would feel rude not getting him something if rouke was having something as we chatted.

All the UC stuff is online now, you see. He'd had to scrape together enough cash for a basic smartphone and sim, and he was still mostly lost because the website is absolutely useless and difficult to use. I am GOOD with computers. I still struggle with that hellsite, and with most gov.uk sites. They're designed to be confusing and to put you off as much as possible.

He'd been hospitalised recently for a serious respiratory illness. Had collapsed in the street. His lungs were permanently scarred. It was the fourth time so far. He's still going to have to do a million online job applications, because he's fit for work. If he can't figure out how to do that, they will cut off the benefits he's not even getting yet.

Rouke used to volunteer as an IT assistant at a library, and we managed to help him figure out what his phone number is. Gave him ours and I let him know that I'd be passing by that way a few times that week, so if he lost phone power or credit then he could find me walking the same route most days to get home and we'd help him sort it out.

We can't fix most of his problems, but we could share about the things we knew and how we'd gotten around them. That he could ignore the TV license people, instead of having to find hundreds of pounds for the crime of his apartment having come with a crappy old TV, because they can't legally enter your house to prove it without permission.

He agreed that I'm a carer for rouke despite being unpaid without even a blink btw lol. Thought it was great we'd managed to scam the hospital. Told us to avoid one of the local hospitals, because it's even worse than the one we were at.

I'm so fucking angry right now at the ways the system is still fucking him over. But I guess this is to remind you all that mutual aid, help and kindness between people who are struggling in their own ways, is so fucking important.

We can't solve much. But we can get him electricity soon enough that most of his food will still be good, and he can have light and warm food. We can make sure he has heat so he doesn't get pneumonia again in the week it's going to take UC to actually start giving him money.

Anyone who tells you not to give directly to homeless people is a fucking cop btw.

[sacresant]

hello! my name is mercedes/mercy. im a neurodivergent disabled nonbinary lesbian. i recently had to leave my old job due to my disability progressing to a point where i wasnt capable of doing what was required of me. i do have a new job, but i dont get paid for a good while, and i am currently 150$ off making rent this month. 

in addition to this, while i was out today (10/16/2021) my horrible quality wheelchair broke. i had been using this to assist me on days where my pain was too great to walk, and i've been having a lot of those as of late. my roommates boyfriend was kind enough to have gifted me a rigid wheelchair frame a few months ago, but it needs a number of things (back wheels, brakes, anti tips, and a cushion) before it can be functional. i priced these out and the current cost is around 350$ with tax and shipping. i live paycheck to paycheck even with my wife helping out, so i cant set aside the money for this alone. 

my goal is 500$ total, but 150$ is the priority so i can make rent this month, due on the 30th. 

below you can find a picture of my frame. in addition to accepting donations, im also doing pwyw commissions. i can do character design and general art, with examples provided below. i currently only accept paypal and ko-fi donations, but i am making more apps very soon. please ignore my legal name <3 

paypal: @aeninetwo / https://paypal.me/aeninetwo 

ko-fi: ae92_ / https://ko-fi.com/ae92_

[ravennm84]

Marinette’s Family Court Circus

I got this idea from a post @unmaskedagain and decided to put my own little spin to it. It’s a bit sad and does have my usual Lila-Salt spin, but I really loved writing this. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

The day of her greatest triumph was also her greatest tragedy. Hawkmoth had finally been defeated, the butterfly and peacock miraculous back in the miracle box where they belonged, and Paris was finally safe. 

However, when Gabriel Agreste was revealed to be the magical terrorist and his assistant, Nathalie, his accomplice, Adrien had been devastated. When the Paris police sought to find out the extent of Adrien's involvement, he had no choice but to reveal in a private interrogation room with only the mayor, Officer Roger, the chief of police, and Ladybug herself, his identity as Chat Noir. After which, Adrien said a tearful goodbye to Plagg and surrendered the ring of destruction to Ladybug. A press conference was held within an hour, absolving Adrien of any crimes in relation to his father, and his bodyguard would also be absolved four days later.

That night, after Ladybug had returned home and tearfully placed the ring, broch, and pin back in the miracle box; her parents and Grandma Gina had told her that they were going out to dinner to celebrate; Gina had even rented a car so they wouldn’t need to walk or take the subway. How Marinette wished that they had just gotten on the subway.

She woke up the following afternoon in the hospital. Apparently, her family weren’t the only people celebrating Hawkmoth’s defeat, and a car load of university students had celebrated too hard and T-boned their car while running a light. The doctors told her that her grandmother and father had died on impact and her mother passed away during surgery. Marinette had been extremely lucky to survive without any life threatening injuries; a broken leg, arm, collar bone, two cracked ribs, and a few lacerations across her body. 

She was hardly paying attention to what the doctors were saying. Too shocked by the whole situation. There was no Miraculous Cure that could fix this. In the span of a single day, she had defeated her enemy, saved Paris, lost her partner, lost her grandmother, and her parents. She was alone.

When her family’s lawyer, M. Contere came to talk about custody, it was revealed that her grandmother was supposed to take custody in the event of her parents' deaths. Her grandfather would have been the next logical choice, but he had recently suffered a stroke and had been placed in a nursing home. This left the lawyer scrambling to find someone to take the girl or risk having her surrendered to the city of Paris.

Going through the Dupain-Chengs’ contact list, M. Contere made phone calls to numbers listed as family friends or emergency contacts. There were three that particularly stood out to him, all listed under the title of ‘uncle’. 

The first was to an ‘Uncle J’; a woman answered the phone, introducing herself as Penny. When Contere told her it had to do with the Dupain-Chengs, the phone was handed to a man with a distinctly British accent. He sounded devastated to hear that Tom, Sabine, and Gina had all passed away before going into a panic and asking if Marinette was alright, showing absolute relief that she had survived the crash. When Contere mentioned the custody hearing, the man practically demanded to know the date, time, and place before promising that he would be there.

The second contact that stood out was labeled as ‘Uncle Tony’. That call was answered by an assistant named Jarvis before transferring the call to Tony. Again, Contere could hear the surprise and hurt at hearing that his friends had passed away before asking if Marinette had been in the car. When told that she had survived, there was relief and he mentioned that Peter would have probably cried for a week if he’d lost his childhood friend. Tony then offered to take custody of Marinette and Contere quickly told him the details.

Although M. Contere was relieved that at least two family friends/possible relatives seemed more than willing to take Marinette, he knew how fickle and difficult the courts could be and wanted as many options as possible for the girl, which led to the third contact labeled ‘Uncle Bruce’. 

The phone was answered by an older sounding gentleman named Alfred before transferring the call. Contere could hear multiple voices in the background, most sounding like young men, and when he told Bruce about the passing of Tom, Sabine, and Gina; it went very quiet for a moment before all the voices began speaking at once demanding to know what happened, who was responsible, and if Marinette was okay. M.Contere answered the questions that he could and told them that Marinette was in need of a legal guardian. Bruce said Gina had been a great friend and mentor to him when he was younger and that he would be honored to care for her granddaughter. So he told him the details of the court hearing with the promise that he would make sure that Marinette was taken care of until then.

After hanging up, M. Contere had a strange feeling that he couldn’t shake. A feeling that told him that those three ‘Uncles’ were either going to make his job of getting Marinette into a stable home a lot easier… or it would be a total nightmare.

~oOo~

The day of the hearing was a Monday and Marinette's case was the first on the docket, which was a relief. If things went smoothly, she could be placed with one of her respective uncles by the end of the week and be taken care of. When the two of them stepped into the room, with Marinette rolling beside him in her wheelchair, M. Contere was surprised to see multiple familiar faces in the courtroom that he had not expected. Jagged Stone, Bruce Wayne, and Tony Stark were glaring, arguing, and puffing out their chests at each other; ignoring everyone else in the room. He also noticed how each man seemed to have an entire team of lawyers backing them up.

The tension and glaring match only broke when the two women; Pepper Potts and Penny Rolling, and the four Wayne boys; Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damien, noticed Marinette’s arrival. 

“Marinette, sweetie, how are you feeling?” Penny asked as she walked away from Jagged to kneel beside Marinette’s wheelchair.

“Been better, but I’m glad to see some familiar faces,” she said with a weak smile.

Pepper leaned over a bit to give the girl a gentle hug while minding her injuries. “We’re here for you, Mari. No matter what.”

Then the four boys were almost surrounding her, offering to hunt down the people that took away their family and pile so many lawsuits on them that they’ll die of papercuts. This made her chuckle and grimace a bit from the pain, telling the boys that was sweet but unnecessary.

Jagged, Bruce, and Tony immediately put their argument on hold as they hurried over to check on the girl as well. Contere found it to be a good sign that Marinette seemed familiar with the three men, that they all asked how she was and if she wanted anything, as well as promising that they would take care of her. That last one, the three said at the same time and got them glaring at each other again. This caused Contere to sweat and Marinette to give her head a resigned shake.

What followed would probably go down as the most intense, well argued, and most headache-inducing case in the history of the Paris Family Court System with all three men vying for custody of the teenage girl. 

Being able to provide financial stability wasn’t a concern as Jagged Stone was currently the most successful rockstar in Europe, Asia, Australia, and the Americas; while Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne were two of the wealthiest businessmen in the entire world. All three even offered to completely cover Marinette’s tuition to any school she wanted, so long as she was accepted.

Her safety turned out to be a large factor with all three men, and they were willing to hire their own private security to make sure that she stayed safe at all times. However, the three men also argued how the others lived in unsafe environments. 

Jagged mostly lived in tour buses and out of hotels, which was a factor; but he was willing to call off his tours during the school year and only go on tour during school breaks so Marinette would never be without her guardian. Penny was also willing to help Jagged at every turn, stating that she loved Marinette like a niece and would make sure that she had a strong female role model in her life as well.

Tony’s reputation as a playboy and his identity as Iron Man brought up the possibility of attracting a dangerous element. He argued that his homes were equipped with the most advanced security systems on the planet. As well as being friends with an actual “God-Alien”, who had met Marinette and liked her a great deal. Tony was also willing to make Marinette her own personal Iron Suit that would be programmed to protect and fly her to a safe location at the first sign of danger. Pepper also offered to share custody as she already took care of Tony’s daily life as his assistant, taking care of Marinette would be easy and she was looking forward to having her around.

Bruce’s residence in Gotham, the most crime ridden city in North America, was a big factor. Bruce made a point that he already had experience as a guardian of his three adopted sons and his biological son, and they were kept safe. That he also had a top of the line security system at his home, which was located outside of city limits. Dick, Jason, and Tim also commented that they thought of Marinette like a little sister and that Wayne Enterprises had locations all over the world. If the judge decided that Gotham was too dangerous, one of them would gladly take up residency in a city that the judge approved and would stay there to watch over Marinette while still working and providing for her.

After two hours of listening to the back and forth of the three men and their lawyers, the judge decided that he’d heard enough for the day and set the next meeting for the following Thursday after lunch. He also recommended that the men bring proof that they have the mental capability of caring for a teenage girl, lists of schools near their homes to show that she will continue her education, and character witnesses, if available. 

The three men wanted to take Marinette out to get something to eat after the court was adjourned, but M. Contere was forced to tell them that it would not be appropriate during the legal proceedings. He also recommended that they follow the judge’s instructions and make sure that they had everything needed, otherwise they would likely not qualify. Hearing that got all three men, their assistants, family, and lawyers moving at top speeds to get everything they needed for court in a few days. 

Once they were out of sight, the lawyer couldn’t help but let out a stress induced sigh as he raised one hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. This custody battle had the potential to turn into a total circus, and although it could do great things for his career in the long run, he was more worried about how this would affect Marinette. 

Speaking of, he was brought from his thoughts when he felt her small hand gently pat the hand that was holding his briefcase. When he looked down at her, she gave him a kind, though slightly amused smile. “You had no idea about the can of worms you were opening when you made those phone calls, did you?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “How was I supposed to know that Uncle J, Uncle Tony, and Uncle Bruce would turn out to be three of the most influential men in the world? How does your family even know all of them?”

“Uncle Bruce was raised by the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth, after his parents died. Grandma Gina and Alfred were best friends when they were younger. After the Waynes died, Gina would go check on them in Gotham, she liked to brag that she helped get Bruce back out of his shell. Uncle Tony knew my parents back in university, he was a lot younger and smarter than the other students and you can guess that didn’t go over well with some of them. My parents looked out for him and they became friends, and even after he got busy when he took over the company, he always made time to be there for the big moments in our lives; my parents’ wedding, their baby shower, and when I was born. I’ve actually spent a few summers in Gotham and New York visiting them.”

“And Jagged Stone?”

“He’s the most recent of my honorary uncles. I’m his personal designer, but he got unofficially adopted into my family after the tv show that took place in my parents’ bakery. Uncle Jagged made a bread guitar and sang rock songs with my dad. Once the show was over, Mom invited him and Penny to stay for dinner. During the course of the night, Dad claimed him as a new little brother. Jagged was so happy that he started calling my parents big brother and big sister, and started calling me his niece. Since then, he’s come over at least once a month to just relax and be a family with us.”

M. Contere couldn’t help but smile at that. From the sound of it and what he had seen, all three men truly cared about this girl and were willing to bend over backwards for her. That was a good thing, but he still worried that a custody battle between these three men could go for a long time and possibly cause mental distress for Marinette. Although the final decision was ultimately up to the judge, he was allowed to make recommendations if they were in the best interests of the child. 

With that in mind, he knelt down beside Marinette. “You know the three of them and what they’re living situations are like better than I do. And even though you’re not 15 years old yet, I could petition the judge to factor your opinion. Which of them would you like to have guardian status?”

When Marinette gave him a knowing smile, he just knew that things might get more complicated.

~oOo~

It got a lot more complicated.

The media had caught wind of the custody battle, causing a giant crowd of paparazzi to stake out the courthouse to catch a glimpse of the rockstar, billionaire, and the self proclaimed “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” who was also a superhero. To their credit, the three only said that they were devastated by the loss of the Dupain-Chengs and wanted to do what was best for Marinette and left all the other questions at the door.

In the courtroom; all three men, as well as their assistants and Bruce’s boys, had done mental evaluations that their lawyers submitted to the judge. They also provided lists of different schools that Marinette was free to choose from; including public schools, private, and even schools that specialized in fashion. But the absolute kicker was the character witnesses.

Jagged Stone had brought other music stars, movie stars, and production mega stars that made Contere wonder for a moment if he’d accidentally walked into an award ceremony. Tony Stark had brought the Avengers, The Avengers, as his character witnesses. Contere wasn’t too proud to admit that he was a bit starstruck when Thor himself came over to great Marinette and complimented her on her ‘battle scars’, saying that they were a testament to her strength. If that wasn’t enough, Bruce brought multiple members of the Billionaire’s Club as character witnesses, many of whom had been suspected of being members of the Justice League. 

The judge looked just as surprised, though somewhat irritated, by the people crowding his courtroom. He quietly looked over the mental health evaluations that had been provided, as well as the lists of schools; finding that everything was in order and that any of them would have been wonderful guardians to the girl. He was tempted to call another recess and pick this back up the following week until Marinette’s lawyer raised his hand.

“If it would please the court,” the judge motioned for him to continue, “although Mlle. Dupain-Cheng is not yet of legal age to make a final decision on the matter of custody, I felt that she was old enough to state her opinion. We have discussed it over the past few days and I believe we came up with a proposal that will satisfy all parties involved while still being in the best interest of the child.” M. Contere presented the four copies of the proposal to the bailiff, who handed one to the judge, and the three lead lawyers.

The judge read the summary at the top before looking at the lawyer in surprise. “You’re proposing joint custody?”

“Yes, your honor. My client and I feel that due to the influence that these men hold, as you can see by the character witnesses that have come here to speak on their behalf, that this custody hearing could be drawn out for a long time, which could have mental repercussions on Marinette.” Contere didn’t miss the ‘you ain’t kidding’ roll of his eyes, or the looks of shame that the three men shared at the thought of hurting Marinette.

“Keeping that in mind, my client came up with an outline for a possible custody agreement. M. Stark would retain custody during school as he has listed one of the top fashion schools in America, which would further Marinette’s future career. The weekends would be spent with M. Wayne, as Wayne Enterprises has connections to the fashion industry and would be able to give her training to help her successfully run her own business. M. Stone would have custody during summer breaks, so Marinette may continue gaining experience as his personal designer, a position she has held for close to a year and has already earned her recognition in the industry.”

The judge grew quiet again as he contemplated the proposal and read over the details. He didn’t want to deal with these three powerful, and in a lot of ways eccentric, men for the next few months while attempting to figure out the best placement for the child. Nor did he want to deal with the media frenzy that this case had already brought on. If anything, this was likely the best option, if he could get the men to agree to the terms.

“Do you have any objections to this proposal?”

There was a moment of silence as the lawyers continued to look over the proposal and spoke to their clients. Jagged’s lawyer was the first to respond. “No, your honor. M. Stone believes that this would be best for Marinette, but we would like to add a clause that M. Stone be permitted to call and visit Mlle. Dupain-Cheng so long as it does not interfere with her school work.”

“My client would also like that clause added to the proposal, your honor,” said the Wayne lawyer. “As well as the clause that Messieurs Stone and Stark work together with M. Wayne in securing Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s safety. As previously stated, all three men could be considered high-priority targets and normally require bodyguards. M. Wayne has proposed that any potential bodyguard be vetted and approved by all parties involved before being hired.”

The judge looked to Stark’s lawyer. “And do you have any stipulations you would want to see added to the proposal?”

“Only that there be an open line of communication between Messieurs Stone, Wayne, and Stark at all times in reference to Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s well being and any possible travel. As all three men are known to travel the world for business; there will be occasions for the child to travel as well. When this occurs, the other guardians should receive notice of the country, city, and address that she resides; so, in case of an emergency, they will be able to be present to assist and protect her.”

“My client has no objections to these clauses,” said Jagged’s lawyer.

“And you, M. Wayne?”

The Wayne lawyer nodded. “The clauses are more than reasonable and are in the best interest of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. Although I only speak for my client, I do not believe that I would be out of line to say that is the main focus of Messieurs Stone and Stark as well.”

The lawyers hid their relief when the judge nodded in agreement. “As the proposal was presented by the child and the three of you are in agreement, I’m scheduling a meeting in my chambers for next Tuesday to go over the finer details of the custodial agreement. I will allow your clients and one lawyer each to attend; this includes you and your client, M. Contere.”

“Yes, your honor.”

“And as for you, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng,” Marinette’s head snapped up to meet the judge’s gaze. “It seems that you have gained three extremely powerful, influential, and in many ways crazy guardians. I don’t know if I should congratulate you or give you my sympathies. What I will do is wish you the best of luck and hope that you are prepared for the future. Court is adjourned.”

There was a hum of surprise and joy that spread through the courtroom as Jagged, Bruce, and Tony stepped up to each other and shook hands before approaching Marinette and M. Contere. 

“Of course, my niece would come up with a way to keep everyone happy, she’s so rock n’ roll that way.” Jagged beamed with pride as Tony and Bruce nodded in agreement.

“Would it be alright if all of us went to dinner to celebrate,” Bruce asked Contere, indicating the ‘all’ to be himself and his boys, Jagged and Penny, and Tony and Pepper; along with Marinette and Contere.

“So long as there’s no discussion of custody and everyone stays civil, I don’t see any harm in it.”

Everyone smiled in agreement while Pepper mentioned that she’d just finished making reservations for all eleven of them at a nice restaurant that had the best view of the Eiffel Tower.

As the others began filing out of the courtroom, Marinette patted his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. “You just opened your second can.”

M. Contere wasn’t sure about what she’d meant until after the meal was over and the waitress brought the check, and then watched as the three billionaires fought over it. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he only hoped that this would all be over on Tuesday and he could go back to his normal, boring cases.

[paullicino]

Ten Years

Taken from my Patreon.

Ten years is a long time. It’s long enough for many things to change, but also long enough for everything to remain the same.

I remember ten years ago as if it were yesterday, as if it passed by in the blink of an eye, with light and shadow, textures and taste all as familiar as ever.

A morning after. Shocked faces. A phone call. Events barely believable, yet all too real.

Ten years ago, my then partner and I were living in a top floor flat off Tottenham High Road. It was sweltering in the summer and the downstairs neighbours played dance music at four in the morning. But the views out the back bedroom window were of valleys of rooftops, sprouting television aerials and summited in the winter by the briefest dustings of snow.

The sun was for the front of the flat. The moon shone into our bedroom.

I remember that sunlight in the afternoon, sparkling through the shifting foliage of the tall trees outside. And I remember summer most of all. August.

We had a tap. A faucet. A great, overwrought thing that our landlady was obsessed with. It was the best tap ever, she said. It was large, curved and heavy, the pharaonic headdress worn atop a newly-fitted kitchen of which she was so proud. Wasn’t it exciting that we had such a good tap?

We just wanted our bed repaired. Our home wasn’t finished when we moved in and we slept on the sofa for weeks. When the mighty tap was finally installed, it was too heavy for its fitting. It teetered. Along with poorly-mounted cupboard doors with handles that prevented other cupboards from opening, its practicality was an afterthought.

The walk up Tottenham High Road took me to the only two locations I ever really visited, the supermarket and the job centre. The supermarket provided us with affordable food (though I’d watched the price of many staples almost double over five years) and the job centre provided me, an unemployed person, the money with which to buy that food.

The job centre, which was now extra special and had been rebranded Job Centre Plus, did not provide anyone the means with which they could get a job. It spent almost all of its time providing people with unemployment benefits. Most of the thousands of Tottenham residents who poured through its doors would’ve taken a job if they could’ve found one, but the listings at the centre itself were usually out of date, irrelevant or in some other way misfiled. Most employers don’t want to list their vacancies at the Job Centre Plus because they don’t want to employ the kind of people who go there.

Out of the Job Centre Plus and the supermarket, which one do you think burned that August?

I have written before about my strongest memory of the Job Centre Plus, but here it is again. It was of an old foreign woman and her daughter trying to speak to a clerk. The old woman didn’t speak English, so her daughter was attempting to explain that the woman was looking for work and thus registering as unemployed to gain unemployment benefit. The clerk was trying to explain that the woman was too old to work and should also be on disability benefit. The daughter was trying to explain that they had tried to navigate those systems and that they were obtuse and broken. Her mother just needed money. To live.

(Ten years before, in the summer of 2001, I’d first looked at the cost of moving out. I looked at rents around my Hampshire town, at the cost of housing and at the wages I needed to earn. England was expensive, I decided. It sure cost a lot just to live.)

Everyone was trying to explain everything. The job centre mostly wanted to give people their money and get rid of them, because there were many more lined up behind.

My strongest memory of the supermarket was of the man outside with no legs. He sat there panhandling in his wheelchair almost every day of the year. Britain had just launched its latest Astute-class nuclear submarine, each of which costs over one and a half billion pounds, but it was still a country where a man with no legs had to beg outside a shop.

I thought about that man long after I left Tottenham. I think about him here, now, ten years on.

My partner went abroad to see family and I spent some of the summer restarting my career as a freelance writer. I was fortunate with the connections and opportunities that I had, none of which would ever be found at a job centre, and I spent a lot of my time writing either to find work or simply for practice. I was writing on the night my street burned.

It began before dusk and I came home to find enormous police vehicles parked outside, the sort that are mobile command headquarters. Chains of armoured riot vans surged north. I heard there’d been a protest outside the police station and that a car or two had been burned. I checked the news occasionally. It didn’t have much to add.

Police vans kept coming, though all other traffic had stopped. The roads were closed, blocked by the police, and the latest news told me that petrol bombs had been thrown and a bus set alight. The reports were sparse.

The police in England are really good at responding to riots. They turn up in great swathes, on horses, in vans, or on foot and armed with batons and shields. They have all kinds of exciting equipment to help them. A year before, they’d kettled schoolchildren protesting the huge increase in university tuition fees, surrounding and slowly crushing hundreds of them in Trafalgar Square and on Westminster Bridge. Footage emerged of them beating the shit out of kids or dragging people out of wheelchairs. Here they were now in Tottenham, ready for more.

I kept trying to find news. The police had cordoned off most of the High Road, which meant the journalists that were arriving had no ability to find what was happening inside the riot. Distant footage of fires was the best most of them could provide. As I remember it now, the BBC had one van inside of the police cordon and couldn’t broadcast out because its dish had been damaged. I also have memories of a single journalist, almost in the thick of a mob, asking rioters to give them a moment to explain why they were protesting, or wondering why on earth they might want to block a BBC camera crew who were trying to film them.

What an inane question.

I found the news I wanted. I found it via Twitter and social media. And it was terrifying.

Broadcast news had described a riot not unlike any other. But the still relatively new sphere of social media was overflowing with witness statements, photographs and the kind of low-quality video that phones captured back then. People across Tottenham were panicking as they described growing crowds on the High Road burning not only vehicles, but also shops and businesses. They were breaking into commercial properties. They were looting. They were starting more fires. This had begun half a mile away from my home and it was spreading outward. The post office burned. Landmark businesses burned. Local shops burned and, with them, the flats and homes located above.

The updates kept coming and it’s almost impossible for me now to try to describe to you not only the sheer volume of panic and distress that waterfalled down my feed, but also the sense of utter hopelessness that came with it. People beyond the High Road described not just the violence spilling into their streets, the fights and the hundreds of looters, the fires and the damage, but also how there was no one who could stop this. No emergency services responded. Their phones went unanswered or the lines were jammed.

I read update after update that echoed the same, basic fact, something which I still struggle to comprehend even now, something I’d describe as barely believable: No help was coming.

But the social media updates kept coming. Looters were turning up with empty vans and loading them up with everything they could take. Buildings were being destroyed. A whole estate was being evacuated.

The news provided by the BBC and its peers remained limp and languid, so I spent all night reading these updates, discovering more nearby shops were being gutted, or how the retail park near me was looted to the point of emptiness, and I watched as even my own view out the window became broiling crowds of countless restless and angry people. I remember one man walking off into the darkness with brand new flatscreen televisions under each arm, the police vans now long gone. The night was regularly punctuated by shouts, screams, thumps and sometimes what might have been explosions. The sirens were always distant. The helicopters came and went.

I don’t know where the police cordon had gone. It felt almost as if they had given up and let Tottenham run rampant.

The sun came up and from that back bedroom window I saw smoke rising. I hadn’t slept. The news was full of irrelevant speculation and so, at five-thirty, I put on my shoes and walked the High Road. What I saw was barely believable. Sometimes I met the stunned gazes of other people doing the same, sometimes I avoided any eye contact. I have kept a diary for a long time now and this is what I recorded (slightly edited):

“This morning at about 5:30, as the sun rose, I tried to wander through Tottenham to take some pictures. It became one of the scariest walks I've ever taken.

The atmosphere was tense and unpleasant. Columns of smoke snaked upwards and the High Road and several other streets were blocked off or packed with police vehicles, many more of which were endlessly arriving, some from as far away as Kent.

The nearby retail park was littered with debris and many of its shopfronts were smashed. Groups of people, perhaps gangs, loitered everywhere. While some areas were busy with police officers, others were neglected and patrolled by hostile looking young men.

I didn't end up taking many pictures. I kept moving. Depending upon where you walk, Tottenham looks like a cross between a blitz bomb site and the mess after a chaotic festival.

Something still feels very different. Tottenham has hardly been rosy at the best of times, but today the sunshine can't seem to dispel a strange chill in the air. I myself can't stop thinking of all the homes that burned last night. It might not be immediately obvious to many people, but above a great deal of those shops set ablaze were flats, often family homes for very poor people. Many of those who had little now have less.”

A day after those first riots hit Tottenham, they went nationwide. London wasn’t done and, for a week, many major cities in England played host to their own riots. Tottenham was totally locked down, but it was far too late. The disorder had moved elsewhere.

I remember telling a colleague I worked with that I wouldn’t be finishing something that weekend. He laughed at the news and imagined it would all blow over. He was from a much wealthier background.

Then, everyone started trying to explain everything.

The BBC caught up with events the way a great-grandparent catches up with technology, fumbling and frowning. Goodness me, they said, in their middle class, broadcast-trained voices, and they joined in with the three broad lines of discussion that emerged. One asked how this could happen, one asked why this had happened, and one was about how this would never happen again, because the law would be firmer than ever, the punishments and prosecutions authoritative and absolute. The police were ready for more. They were going to get water cannons. I imagine those work particularly well on kids and wheelchairs.

There was a lot of talk about punishment, including from the Prime Minister, who decided to stop being on holiday in Tuscany only after England’s third night of rioting. I wonder if he had imagined it would all blow over.

Sometimes there was talk involving the people of Tottenham themselves, but it was more likely to be talk about them. A lot of people in Tottenham are Black and have families that trace back to the very first Windrush immigrants of the late 1940s. One Black Labour MP said it was important to talk about their experiences in London, their economic situation and their history of treatment by the police. After all, the spark that had set these riots alight was a protest outside the police headquarters, subsequent to the suspicious shooting of Mark Duggan, a Black man, something that called to mind a similarly suspicious death of a Black woman that also precipitated Tottenham’s 1985 riots.

For some people, the discussion became about how Black people had started the riots and been the chief participants. This wasn’t reflected in anything I saw either on social media or with my own eyes, in person, on the night. But nobody was stopping to ask me what I thought or what I saw.

Not long after that first riot, my partner called me to check I was okay and to ask if those barely believable things she’d seen on the news were really as bad as they seemed. They were. I rode the bus up the High Road on my way to Wood Green, then later to Walthamstow, both of which offered me temporary job centres that took the overspill from ours, thoroughly gutted by fire and then looted of all of its copper piping. The bus crept past burned-out shops and homes. I don’t know where those people have gone.

Later that year, my partner and I discovered that our income was low enough that we were eligible for housing benefit. It took us so long to try to apply for it that we moved home before any progress was made. When I found enough work to support myself, I visited the job centre to sign off, as we called it, to close my file. I asked a woman at reception what I needed to do. “Nothing,” she said, as the line behind me wound down several stories of stairs and out into the grey autumn street. “Just stop coming. Stop coming.”

Winter came and things rustled in the walls. There was a long, tall hedge along the High Road and I would look out the window to see men using it as a urinal. I only had to live in Tottenham for around a year and a half and I have good memories from that flat, but I also remember a stifling and sad place to live, from which I was lucky to move on. Tottenham was never my home and I never had to stay there, but I certainly feel that I came to get a sense of the place.

After moving out, our ex-landlady complained that we hadn’t left the oven as clean as she would’ve liked. She hiked the rent 9% while we were staying there. She never fixed anything that broke and provided excuses instead of solutions.

I found more work. I taught games and narrative for a semester at a small institution in East London. One of the things I asked my students to consider was the stories and the experiences of people who weren’t like them. I asked them to share how often they had been stopped and randomly searched by airport security. “Not just at the airport,” one student reminded me. “On the tube. On the street.”

My life continued to improve in many ways, but I still remembered the man in the wheelchair. The BBC and many other media outlets continued to talk about poverty and race, but not always to poor people or to people who weren’t white. In 2014 I wrote On Poverty and one of the most surprising responses I repeatedly received from people was “I had no idea that it was like this.” A friend of mine tried to apply for support for chronic health problems and documented her many struggles, including being required to explain exactly how many times a week she suffered from migraines (“You said it was two or three times a week. Well, is it two, or is it three?”). The news regularly reported growing homelessness, rising use of food banks and the inevitable deaths of people who weren’t just failed by broken systems, apathy and a lack of understanding, but also simply too poor to be alive.

I feel like some of the people I knew didn’t like how I kept returning to these topics. I feel, even more, that they didn’t at all understand. I remember some of these people waiving off the Brexit referendum as it approached, certain the country wouldn’t vote to amputate itself from the European Union. I don’t think they understood and I don’t think they’d seen the unhappy England that I had, both as a child and as an adult. I think they’d only seen, and been, very comfortable people.

I think these people would call themselves open-minded, progressive and keen to make the world better. I’m sure they could explain those views. At length.

If I think of those people now, I’m quite sure they are all still very comfortable, ten years on. I also think there is still a good chance that man is sat in that wheelchair outside of that supermarket, though he could also be dead by now, again simply too poor to be alive. No longer able to watch the sun sparkle through tall trees, see roofs dusted with snow or catch the moon peeping through his bedroom window.

Such things aren’t for poor people. We still get frustrated when we give them benefits or find out they own mobile phones.

---

Ten years on, Tottenham is almost a dream, a memory where the details have faded and the edges have softened. I have moved countries, had the privilege of travelling through work, enjoyed many different creative opportunities and benefited from free healthcare that has addressed difficult, long-term health issues. I have rationed my life according to a tight budget, but I’ve never had to face the overwhelming, unending hardships of others that I’ve shared neighbourhoods and postcodes with. I cannot ignore these people because they have so often been one street away, visiting the same shop or riding the same train. They are not an abstraction, they are right there, ready to tell us all about their lives.

Ten years on, Tottenham has one of the UK’s fastest-growing rates of unemployment, the latest statistic in the region’s long history of joblessness and poverty. Many of its residents, like poor people across the country, live paycheck to paycheck, at risk of financial ruin should they experience a single upheaval. Ten years on, the most reliable predictor of success and financial stability in the UK (as in many developed countries) is now considered to be the circumstances of your birth. The idea of social mobility is more irrelevant than ever, with much of your destiny decided before you are even born. Ten years on, almost a quarter of the population of the UK lives in poverty.

Ten years on, continued austerity, government apathy and cuts to social services has meant that, yes, ten years really is enough time for everything to stay the same. Without change, the problems people face become generational, systemic. Some people tell me that the 1980s were like this for certain families, regions, populations. I didn’t know. We were doing okay. Perhaps I didn’t get it, didn’t notice it, didn’t want to think about it.

Ten years on, Mark Duggan’s family filed a civil claim against the Metropolitan Police and were awarded an undisclosed sum, after his death was officially ruled a lawful killing in 2014. Lawyers for the Duggan claim commissioned this in-depth report on the shooting, which illustrated many problems with the official police version of events.

Ten years on, the UK government is trying to curtain the right to protest. It commissioned a review that concluded that the country has no systemic racism. It wants to limit the powers of the Electoral Commission and has considered conflating the concepts of whistleblowing and leaking with spying, meaning those who leak information could be treated as criminals. It is increasingly intent on punishing those who might express dissatisfaction.

And ten years on, as we all know, wages have not risen to match the rising costs of rent, food, utilities or transport. It sure costs a lot just to live.

Finally, in 2018, the UN Special Rapporteur on Poverty and Human Rights visited the United Kingdom and did speak with many of its poor. The resulting exhaustive and damning report concluded that “statistics alone cannot capture the full picture of poverty in the United Kingdom” and that “much of the glue that has held British society together since the Second World War has been deliberately removed and replaced with a harsh and uncaring ethos.” It described harsh, ill-conceived and out-of-touch support systems devised and doubled down on by a government that not only failed to understand poverty, but that couldn’t even measure it accurately. It also predicted that these things would only get worse, and without any consideration of the effect of extraordinary events, such as a global pandemic.

The government described the report as “barely believable.”

I don’t think any help is coming.

---

There’s a question that sometimes bounces around social media and it asks people this: “What radicalised you?” As if there was some moment that changed a person’s political beliefs and rearranged their perspective on the world.

Here’s the thing. I feel like my perspective is from the floor, skewed and sore after I fell between two stools, always unable to find an identity amongst wider British culture. I grew up too comfortable, too spoiled and too well-spoken to call myself working class, but I was easily alienated by schoolfriends with multiple bathrooms and university-educated parents. My interests and my sentiments aren’t supposed to be working class, but many of my life experiences and even philosophies are. I know what it’s like to memorise Shakespeare and to explain themes in Romantic-era art, as much as I know what it’s like to fight government systems that are ostensibly supposed to help, to be unable to afford your own home, to walk into a supermarket and look at staple foods you still can’t afford. You think about Descartes and then you think about which dinner provides the cheapest way to keep your body alive.

When I was a kid I remember going to friend’s houses where they were too poor to clean the carpet, or seeing them lose a parent to lung cancer, or the time someone showed me a gun hidden in their brother’s car. As an adult I wrote to my politicians to ask them what they were doing about poverty, about education, about the cost of living. I went to protests and signed petitions and supported charities both practically and financially. I suppose I was trying to articulate some of the skills I’d learned from in some situations to articulate the experiences I’d had in others. Surely you have to do something.

I both resent and appreciate aspects of both classes and I imagine I’ll never work out who I am or what I’m supposed to call myself. But I do know there are vastly different worlds and vastly different experiences within British culture and that many continue to be overlooked even when in plain sight. And it’s what I find most frustrating.

If there was one thing I learned, if not one thing that radicalised me, it wasn’t simply that poverty never goes away, it’s that it always needs to be explained. There are always, always people who don’t get it, who don’t notice it, who don’t want to think about it or who will puzzle over it from a distance as if it were some transient mirage they can never hope to touch. Those in power will continue to make decisions about poverty that they do not experience, in spite of the fact that making financially comfortable people the authority on money is like making able-bodied people the authority on wheelchair access, like making men the authority on women’s bodies, like making white people the authority on racism.

And so, ten years on, here I am again, writing about Tottenham, about class, about poverty and about ignorance, and only from a slightly different angle. I will write about these things more, not least because I’ve already started another work on these themes, but mostly because I will always need to. I don’t imagine that, during my lifetime, the explaining will ever stop. I don’t imagine that our societies will give up on punishing people for being poor in a world where it is so often simply too expensive to be alive. And I don’t imagine I will have any more patience for people who imagine it will all blow over.

I refuse to let you middle-class your way out of this.

I don’t have any solutions to these enormous and complex problems. I don’t have exhaustive lists of who exactly to blame or where precisely everything has gone wrong. But here’s what I believe: If we don’t talk about poverty, and if we don’t listen to those caught inside of it, it will never go away, and there will be infinitely more Tottenhams.

[cinemacrypt]

Ugh mars I am still thinking about your galaxy brained aaol ocs tell me more about them 🔫

Thank you for giving me an excuse to blab more abt these bizarre kids:

Lucille🐁🕸👻

•Lucille Brewster is the daughter of Mortimer Brewster and Elaine Harper, she came along VERY soon after Mort and Elaine were officially married bc (Spoiler alert, but it's a 60 yr old play) Mortimer's not a "true" Brewster, he's adopted, so he thought none of the family strangeness would apply to his child.

•OH BOY WAS HE WRONG

•Lucille was born premature in 1945, as well as being born with albinism, a lack of pigmentation. Her premature birth left her immunocompromised as well as having an interesting condition: the capillaries in her nasal cavity never fully formed, so whenever she gets frightened, angry, or otherwise overexcited, she gets a HORRID nosebleed

•she's also textbook weird girl, having an interest in chemistry and forensic science from a young age, encouraged by her great aunts, Abby and Martha, and greatly discouraged by her dad. Naturally, her father's deep embarrassment of her perceived strangeness didn't help her shy demeanor, or Mort and Elaines semi-dysfunctional marriage, as Mort lowkey blames Elaine for Lucy's weirdness :/

•The family moved into the Brewster family home after the aunts' deaths, as it was left to Mortimer in the will, Lucy was around seven at the time, and this was when she discovered she could see and talk to ghosts, or rather, ghosts could talk *through* her. Mort found her in her nightgown one night, in the basement clawing at the dirt floor, eyes teary and glassy, shrieking in the voices of a dozen dead men, and he almost had the child (and himself) institutionalized then and there

•the basement was paved over not long after that, and Lucy never heard the 12 old men again

•the ghosts that Lucy is most familiar with are that of her aunts, who's souls still reside in the house, Spenalzo, or as Lucy calls him "the angry Italian bastard in the attic", and one that won't give her a name, but is very, very cruel

•She's been able to learn how to master being a sort of telephone and switchboard operator for the spirit world, how to stop certain things from getting through, and learning how to control it now that she's sixteen but it still takes a LOT out of her, leaving her physically and mentally drained, and often leaving the front of her blouse ruined with a nosebleed

Frank 👽🪱🏥

•Frank Einstein-Brewster is also "technically" not a real Brewster, but technicality is a coward's principle, at least to fate

• He joined the family when Johnathan and Dr. Einstein returned to Chicago to take care of unfinished business. They returned from said business to find a broken window in the apartment they had been renting, and below the window, a child of five or six, catatonic and covered in bruises

•Being villains but not monsters they naturally gave the kid a place to stay out of the cold, but didn't plan to return the child to whatever awful place they had come from. When a couple came to the door of their apartment asking if the men had seen "a scrawny redhead brat" Johnathan offer the two where the stood in the hall, told the doctor to pack up the car, grab the child, and prepare to leave

•While on the run, the plan was to leave the child at a convent or in the hands of some loving couple but when the time came, neither Johnathan, nor the doctor could do it. So, not knowing any alternative, they headed for Brooklyn. Herman set up a surgery clinic, Johnathan swallowed his pride and asked his aunts for advice, and Frank found an unconventional, but deeply loving family

• He mostly calls them "doc" and "(ol') John" but make no mistake those are his DADS AND HE LOVES THEM

•Johnathan's still in the crime biz, but with a much more controlled temper, he mainly does the occasional hitman job, and is a househusband the rest of the time

•everything goes well until Frank is 14. Herman sends him out for groceries and the boy is run over by a truck right in front of their apartment. He's beyond saving, but They can't bear to part with him. They finally have a family. They're not losing their own son.

•The operation takes hours. It's some complex blend of delicate plastic surgery, graverobbing, mild electric currents to keep from total braindeath, and a whole lot of love but it works. They work together,, and they get him back. Confused, and in a whole lot of pain but alive, and glad to be.

•there are some changes though: Frank's hair stops growing, it doesn't fall out though, it just. Stays. He sleeps a lot more, and doesn't seem to blink as much. His muscles stiffen easily, and he suffers chronic pain, not surprising when your body is constantly in and out of rigor mortis, so he uses mobility aids. Forearm crutches and leg braces for relatively mild days, a wheelchair for bad ones. Not to mention the twice yearly organ replacements, it's what's to be expected from using things second-hand, they wear out easier

• But he's still Frank. He's still the fast talking, loud-mouthed Brooklynite that he blossomed into from a young age, he still loves horror movies and bad westerns, pulp fiction comics and radio shows. He still loves food, candy especially (he has a severe allergy to pecans however) and most of all he loves his folks

•he's got a nervous stutter, but still dreams of a career in radio or film

•His best friend is Hana Rizzoli, the daughter of the folks who run the pizza joint down the street, but he's recently made a new friend in the form of a weird, pale, mousy dame who reads in one of the uptown cemeteries after school

[rantingwriter]

Accidentally in Love (Hawks x Civilian Reader) pt. 5

Trigger Warning: long hospital stay and angst if you squint

“Alright, it’s time to try taking a step,” Mayu states as you stand shakily on your prosthetic. 

“Nope, I think I’m good,” you have been struggling to get your legs moving. You can usually twitch the muscle and shuffle about a millimeter forward, but taking a full step has not been successful as of late. 

“I’m here to catch you, you can do this.” Ryo was helping today, he is rather lanky, but he can lift his patients like it’s nothing. 

“Okay...Okay,” you try to focus and take a step, you manage to lift your leg, but you quickly lose your balance and fall forwards. Ryo catches you and keeps you upright, “sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, that was good. You got a leg up!” Mayu assists to get you standing again. 

“Let’s try again, one more time and we’ll call it a day.” 

You sigh in defeat despite the encouragement. “Fine,” you gear up to try again when a knock on the window startles the three of you. 

You look over to find Hawks with a little sign, ‘you can do it!’ His feathers hold the page up while he does a little cheer with his arms. You smile and shake your head, “Mayu, please stop drooling.” Ryo grumbles as Mayu stares at the goofy hero. 

“I’m not drooling!” She covers her mouth just to be sure. “Let’s, uh, do this and then uh...maybe we could go say hi?”

Ryo rolls his eyes, “yes, I’ll cover for you, but you owe me!” 

“Thank you!!” Mayu jumps up and down clapping, you clear your throat to remind them you are still there. “Right! Sorry, go ahead [y/n],” they get back into position and you try again to take a step. You shakily lift your leg, “halfway there…” you clench the parallel bars tightly as you urge the leg forward. 

Hawks is celebrating outside as Mayu and Ryo cheer, “you did it!!” 

“I did?!” You can’t really believe it as you stare down at your legs. You are still shaking and require the parallel bars to support your weight, but you have indeed taken your literal first step towards walking again. You try to take another, but that is less successful as you stumble into Ryo again. “Welp, guess that was a fluke…”

“No, that was a success,” Mayu rolls your chair forward so you can sit down. 

“You did great, I’m sure you’ll be taking multiple steps in no time.” Ryo adds on, ensuring you are sitting properly. 

You hear another tap on the window, Hawks is pointing up towards the roof. “Let’s go say hi,” Mayu is quick to wheel you towards the exit.

“Thank you!” You call back towards Ryo who waves in acknowledgement. 

You reach the roof and get swept up by the winged Hero in a hug, “that was awesome!” Mayu looks a bit worried, as he hovers just above your wheelchair. You are holding onto him for dear life and hoping no one could see the blush blooming on your cheeks. He carefully lowers you back down to your seat. “I was just passing by when I saw you, I’m glad I stuck around.” He is all smiles, “oh? I don’t think we’ve met.” He just now noticed Mayu standing behind you. 

“Hi, uh, yeah I’m Mayu, I’m her bearcyst, THERAPIST I meant therapist.” She holds her hand out to shake his. 

“Nice to meet you,” you can’t help but notice a slight shift in his demeanor as he shakes her hand.

“Could I get a picture with you?” She pulls her cellphone up, he nods in consent and they take a quick selfie. She squeals with glee, “thank you! It was great to meet you! I’ll see you tomorrow [y/n],” she dashes back into the building, leaving you alone with the pro hero. 

“That happened,” you chuckle as he stretches his arms. “Sorry about that.” 

“I’m used to it,” he waves it off, “I can’t stay long, but I’ll be back after work and I’m going to bring something to celebrate.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you feel flustered from all the excitement and hype. 

“You kidding? That’s a huge step!” His wings emphasize his excitement as they raise up. 

You scratch the back of your head, eyes trained on a random box garden. “Okay, if you want to.” 

He grins and ruffles your hair, “I’ll see you tonight then.” He takes off and you feel your face burn with a blush. 

“Ugh, stop that me!” You rub your face a moment before wheeling your way back towards your room. When you arrive, you find Fumiko waiting for you with some lunch. “Hey! Sorry to keep you waiting.” 

She waves it off and smiles, “I just got here, how was PT?” You tell her about your day as you start eating and she lights up in excitement. “That is so great! Won’t be long and you’ll be able to walk out of here!” 

Your face falls for a moment, you hadn’t thought about what you are going to do after your time here is done. “Yeah...I can’t wait.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve been here so long I honestly hadn’t thought about what to do next…” She leans against her hand, thinking as you nibble on a carrot. “I don’t have a job and my landlord has informed me he needs me to start paying rent again, starting next month, or get my stuff out.” The landlord was nice enough to halt your rent payments until you were discharged from the hospital, but he failed to mention he was only doing that for 3 months. 

“You know you could always come stay with me for a bit, my wife won’t mind. Rika and I could go get your stuff too and hold onto it until you are discharged and find a new place.” 

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to be a burden…” 

“[Y/n], you are my friend and I love you and if you call yourself a burden again I’m going to hug the stuffing out of you.” She squeezes your shoulder reassuringly as you chuckle. Her watch suddenly beeps, “I gotta get back to work, let me know if you need anything. Okay?” 

“Thanks Fumi,” you hug her before she leaves and relax on your bed to rest up. It took a lot of energy to make that step today and you are ready for a nap. You drift off for a long time, a loud thump against your window startling you awake. “What year is it?!” You look around, your gaze drawn to the figure writhing in pain hovering by the window. You call a nurse in to open up the window and let your friend in. Once he has landed you let the laugh you were holding slip out, “did you run into the window?” 

“Maybe…” he is hiding the embarrassment with his jacket collar. “Not important, I’ve brought coffee and [your favorite dessert].” 

“Oh my God, you remembered?!” He sets the dessert on the table and hands you a fresh can of WAX coffee. 

“How could I forget? You were craving it hard a couple weeks back.” He pops the lid off the dessert and he waits for you to take the first bite. You are so happy, flowers and sparkles float around you as you savor the bite. “Wow, I need to bring you this more often.” He tries a bite, it is a satisfying flavor. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Well, I slept for most of it, but I was reminded I need a game plan for after my stay here.” You sigh, reminding the young man of something. 

“Oh! I forgot to tell you earlier, I showed Best Jeanist that rainbow bird cloth you made and he wanted to know if you would work with denim.” 

“Yeah, I can work with any size thread,” you tilt your head, curious where he was going with this.

“He has his own clothing line and he is always looking for ways to improve. The quality of the cloth you made impressed him.” You perk up as you realize what he is implying. “He wants to interview you when you get discharged, but it sounds like he already wants you on the team.” 

“You serious?!” 

“I’m dead serious.” 

You aren’t sure what to do, your hands flailing a little, “oh my- I could kiss you, thank you so much!!” 

His feathers puff up a little and he has to stop himself from saying something stupid, “no problem, happy to help.” The two of you finish off the dessert and drink your coffee as you talk about his day and just enjoy each other's company. He gets a thought and checks the weather outside. “Hey, want to try flying?” 

“Pardon? I am missing a very key ability to do that.” 

“No, I know, I’ve got you covered on that.” He flutters his wings, “I just wanted to show you something that you can only see tonight.” 

“Uh...sure! I just need to let the nurses know.” You hit the call button, a nurse poking his head in to see what’s wrong. You ask them if you can go out for a bit and he looks a little conflicted until Hawks reassures him you would be completely safe with him. The nurse makes a note that you would be going out for any other nurses that might be checking in on you.

Hawks opens up your window and picks you up bridal style. “Ready?” He waits for you to give him the okay and he takes off into the night. You hug his neck and screw your eyes shut as he soars to the surprise destination. “Alright, we are here.” You open your eyes and find he took you to the top of a tower overlooking a festival. 

“Wow! We are really high up,” you feel a bit shaken as he sets you down on the platform. 

“Best seat in the house for what’s to come.” He sits down next to you, one wing curling around you to block the wind. 

“I’ve never seen the city like this before,” you are already mesmerized by the lights of the city. 

Hawks is mesmerized by something else, he removes one of his gloves and takes your hand in his. His fingers intertwined with yours, his thumb sweeping across the side of your thumb. You feel your heart rate spike up at the contact. Before you can say anything, a loud pop draws your attention to the inky black sky. A firework briefly lights up the darkness and dazzles anyone who sees it. “Wow,” you are breathless as you take in the glorious display. 

“I knew you would like it,” he squeezes your hand gently as you both enjoy the bright and colorful display. You test the waters and lean your head against his shoulder, much to your surprise he leans his head against yours. It’s comforting, the show lasts for around 15 minutes and it’s over all too soon. 

“Thanks for bringing me out here,” you speak softly, scared to ruin the moment. 

“Anytime,” you can hear the smile, “ready to head back?” 

“Not really…” a blast of wind sends a chill down your spine. “Yes…”

He chuckles and moves to pick you up, “hold on tight.” He jumps off the platform and glides languidly back towards the hospital.

“Will you still come see me...even after I leave the hospital?” 

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation, swiftly quelling the fear you didn’t realize you had. You couldn’t deny the feelings that have been growing stronger each time you see him. You didn’t want to say anything and risk ruining what you have, but you were starting to wonder if the feeling might be mutual. 

[simmingonahilll]

For those of you who don't know, I figured I would post here as well. I mostly use Instagram, so everyone on there has heard the news by now. We lost my grandmother this past Sunday.

Trigger Warning: Death, Hospitalization, Sickness.

Friday, September 17th, 2021, my family (me, dad, grandma, and my boyfriend) left our homes in Minnesota/North Dakota, and flew out to California to see my big sister and meet my new nephew. We arrived late that night, and my nephew made his appearance around 5pm. We all pretty much relaxed when we got there. My sister had a C-section and was going to be in the hospital to recover for a few extra days.

Saturday, September 18th, 2021, some of us woke up late (myself and boyfriend), and others spent the morning relaxing. Around 11 am, we were all awake and decided to stop at a restaurant for breakfast, my Dad and I had been there before but it had been about ten years since we last visited.

After breakfast we headed back to the house we were renting. Grandma started to feel ill, thinking she had simply just eaten too much at the restaurant. We sat at the house for a little bit before I asked if we could take a trip to see this fountain I use to swim in as a little girl. We went for about an hour and a half, just talking together around the fountain. It was a beautiful day, and the sound of the water falling in the fountain with my family and my love there was perfect.

Sister was still in the hospital, and because of the v***s we were not able to see her yet. We found out the church I grew up in was having an event that evening. Grandma was still feeling ill, but she was fine with us going. We had a wonderful time surprising people my Dad and I hadn't seen since I was around 14.

We got home around 7 or 8pm and then started the worst night of my entire life. When we walked in the door the first thing we saw was a very sickly grandmother. The next thing I knew I was trying my best to help her, Dad was on the phone with the emergency crew, and my boyfriend was waiting outside to direct them where to go.

A short while later my grandma was in the ambulance, on her way to the hospital. None of us could go with because of c***d regulations. So for the next 4 or 5 hours we sat and waited for any information they could give us. We tried sleeping, but it was mostly laying down talking, trying our best to not over worry.

Around 2am on Sunday, we got the call. My Aunt, who is in charge of my grandmothers wishes, called me. My grandmother had an aneurysm that had burst sometime Saturday. They had an operation that could save her, but it was at another hospital. Dr's said they would need to transfer her. Given her age and condition, they didn't think she had enough strength to make it there let alone have an operation. Grandma's wishes were that if that was ever the case, where she would have less than 50% chance of survival, she would want to be let go.

Auntie let us know that the hospital would let us in to say our goodbyes before pulling the plug on the sweetest woman in the entire world's life. So the three of us went. They didn't ask if my boyfriend was a relative or not, they just let us all in (and I'm so thankful he was there). When we saw her she was asleep from the anesthesia. Her chest was moving as if she were breathing really well, but we knew it was mostly the machines.

Shortly after that, my sister began messaging me (we had called her when we first heard the news. She didn't know we were in California because it was suppose to be a surprise). She was recovering in the same hospital, just three floors above us. The nurses were trying hard to find us so they could wheel her over in a wheelchair to say her goodbyes. Before she could get there, before I could finish sending the messages to her, our grandmother took her last breath.

September 19th, 2021 was the last day of my grandmother's life.

-

We went on the trip to meet my nephew, and for grandma to meet her great grandson. We finally met him on Monday, September 20th. That day was also grandma's birthday. Just after she passed I remember turning to my Dad (her son) and saying something about how she didn't get to meet my nephew, but she does get to meet my big brother. Her obituary includes that she was preceded in death by my brother. She wrote the obit herself, and included him.

-

It's been a hard few days. Because she died in a different state it's been frustrating. We can't make any final plans because they are not able to release her body until they have certain signatures. So, for now, we wait.

If anybody out there is a believer, please be praying for my family. And also my sister as she recovers from C-section and the loss of our grandma (she will not be able to come to the funeral either, she won't have enough strength to travel).

[chubbyreaderchan]

Technically No | Jacob Black x witch!Reader | Twilight/Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossover| 1

jacob is over 18+ in this as well as reader! It's also a slight modern au because technology makes life easier man. And no I don't know what timeline this is. It's after Jacob phases and before Buffy dies again. So you might see Glory in this. Also it’s under a cut because this introduction/beginning is super long.

"Did you make it okay?" Buffy asked over the phone.

"Yes, Buff. I'm in my new house. I am going to my new job Monday" (Y/n) said with a soft sigh as she leaned against her new counter, having just moved from one small town to the other.

Sunnydale to Forks.

"Good. I'm glad you are safe." (Y/n) smiled a small yet sort of sad smile at the prospect of leaving the scoobs but there was a job offer in Forks that was just to good for her to not take and she was damn lucky to find a house for rent. She wondered if it was haunted. Not that was a big deal for someone who went to high school on top of a literal hellmouth.

"How's Dawny?" (Y/n) also knew that Dawn's first day back to high school was coming up as well as Buffy's first day of college for the year. "And did you get your course schedule yet?" She stated sitting in the empty living room floor eating her favorite fast food meal. Her moving truck wouldn't be there with her stuff for at least another day or two.

It wasn't exactly a house full of stuff yet, of course. She had just gone from living with her parents to on her own within a flash it seemed. It was as if the universe was pulling and placing her right in the middle of now where Washington.

"Yeah but I didn't get some of the courses I wanted. Have to try next semester." She sighed over the phone. Was it normal to talk to someone you had just left the day before as if you hadn't seen them in months? Maybe not but a lot was happening as the end of summer was coming to fruition. "Dawn is excited to go back to school"

"Interesting... She wasn't yesterday." Buffy sighed over the phone as her friend teased her. "Oh! So I'm going to try to get some essentials tomorrow!" She said suddenly remembering what she called Buffy about in the first place. "What color do you think I should decorate my kitchen in? Green? Red?" Buffy almost laughed again at one of her closest friends.

"You'll know when you actually go to the store. It's not like I can see the house." "Not yet! But you all are going to come visit me some day!" She laughed a bit. Her phone buzzed at her to charge. "Hey... Buffy. I gotta go. Phones is dying. Tell Willow and everyone I miss them."

"Will do." With that, the phone was hung up and placed on its charger.

(Y/n) sighed picking up her trash and began the work to make the floor as comfortable as possible until she could actually buy a decent bed.

--

The next morning, (Y/n) woke up at a fair hour for a Saturday and took a shower. It was nice to wash out some of the travel and sleep stink off before she slipped on her clothes for the day. Then she went to grab her phone as well as keys and her wallet. There was no way she could sleep on the floor for one more day and eating fast food everyday wasn't exactly a healthy option even if she did just arrive in town.

Sure she was still tired from the plane ride but she would stay tired. She need to find at least an air mattress. The car ride was short, it was nice. Familiar. It wasn't a huge change from one small town to another... Minus the demons and vampires. She hoped. It was simple enough to find the small plaza that had a few small shops and even a diner within walking distance of each other.

It was not even remotely difficult to find the things she oh so desperately needed. It was wonderful. (Y/n) was even able to add to her growing collection of magical artifacts when she stumbled into an antique shop. She thanked the gods that her family had loaned her a bit of cash to help her get by until she was fully working again.

Her day was going great... That was until she was hit with pangs of hunger. 'Did I even eat breakfast?' she asked herself before glancing at the time and gasping. She had been out a lot longer than she had realized.

Didn't she see a diner? She walked to her rental car and started a vague drive. Ah-ha! There was a diner.

She pulled in and was seated quite quickly. It wasn't long before her meal was ordered and her attention was drawn to her phone as she waited. There was a text message from Anya complaining about an argument she and Xander were having. (Y/n) laughed softly before responding with her opinion.

While she was distracted she didn't notice the small group enter. Especially a young man who had a slight staring problem. His eyes were locked on (Y/n) as she fiddled around with her phone. The young man was known by most as Jacob Black. A good kid who was madly in love with Bella Swan, his childhood friend.

"Jake... You okay?" Bella another member of the small group asked with concern on her face. An older man in a wheelchair who was previously chatting with the other older man in the group looked at the one named Jacob. A small knowing smile flashed over his features as he looked at his son.

'It's about damn time' Billy the man in the wheelchair thought. "Jake!" Bella's voice called him again, finally snapping the dark haired young man from his thoughts.

(Y/n) who was finally served food sat her phone down finally not even noticing the set of eyes on the back of her head.

"Is she-?" Bella whispered to Jacob just low enough for her father to not hear. "I... Think so... I think..."

"Son..." It was Billy who joined the conversation. "If you don't go talk to her... I will." Jacob's eyes went wide. How embarrassing would that be? His dad talking to his imprint before he could.

Jacob looked at the girl happily eating her dinner and playing around with her technology. Then she giggled. Oh God.

How could it be that just the day before he was trying to convince Bella not to turn into a vampire? That he was so madly and so deeply in love with the vampire girl that he defied Sam his pack leader for turn into dust and be replaced instantly by a young woman he hadn't even spoken to?

Jacob was so distracted by his thoughts he barely caught his father moving to go introduce himself. "No, wait. Dad. I'll go." He quickly stood up and wandered over to the table nervously. What was he going to say? What if she didn't like him? What if he said something dumb?

"Hey I'm Jacob." He said awkwardly, causing her to jump from what she was doing. Her face scrunched up in confusion before she finally looked up. Their eyes locked and it felt like everything stopped. Her heart beat hard against her ribcage at the very tall and dark haired man before her. "You looked lonely. Uhm. I know we just got here. But..." What was he doing? Inviting her to sit with his dad and his dad's best friend for dinner? That's weird isn't it? Especially since he was going to have dinner with a girl he was in love with.

"I'd love to join you." Why did she just agree to crash someone else's dinner? It looked like a family affair of sorts. "I'm (Y/n)!" She suddenly remembered her name. It felt like her face was on fire. He shifted from slightly nervous to having a large smile on his face. How sweet.

He even helped by carrying her stuff to the table. "This is my dad Billy. His friend Charlie and his daughter Bella." Jacob introduced allowing her to sit down. Something in the back of her mind told her that this was weird.

Something was off.

It felt... Magical. She knew magical.

But then Charlie began to talk about how he was a sheriff and the weirdness seemed to disappear. "So...where are you from?" Charlie asked trying to judge if this new girl was going to cause him trouble later. "Oh. Sunnydale," she paused. "California. Also graduated from Sunnydale high." She explained with a small smile.

Maybe it wasn't so bad joining their little dinner. It was nice having people to talk to, especially when one was so new. "What do you like to do Jake?" She said looking over at him before taking a bite of food.

"Oh, uh. I buy and flip cars right now. It's more of a side hustle really." He smiled at her. "Really?" She said with a smile on her lips. "Because the car I'm in is just a rental... If you find anything good will you think of me? I can't pay the rate they are wanting forever." She joked, gently and playfully touching his arm.

It was like fire. Both literally and figuratively. If it weren't for the people she could almost throw herself at him. But then his skin was so hot that it almost burned. "Absolutely." Jacob smiled. "What's your phone number?" He looked almost like a puppy who was just given a treat. She took his phone and put her number in and he sent her a text. A wolf emoji.

Her eyes looked him over again. Then the phone in her hand began ringing. She answered it quickly, it was the moving company.

Jacob watched as she excused herself to talk to whoever. Her once happy self was instantly deflated. Jacob did not like that at all. He felt it. He actually felt the sadness in her. Is this what it was like to have an imprint? Actually feeling their pain? She walked back in and sighed. 

“Are you okay?” Jacob asked with what (Y/n) could only describe as genuine concern. 

“My moving truck is going to be late. On Monday while I’m at work instead of on Sunday.” She shouldn’t be so easy to talk to someone she had only known for 20 minutes. Jacob didn’t like the look on her face one of distress. 

Jacob looked her over again, hardly getting tired of looking at her face. “I have some friends on the Res. Maybe we can meet them. Help you out..” Jacob offered without a second thought. 

“Really?” she looked at him unsure at first. 

Jacob nodded, a bright smile on his face. 

“O-okay” She agreed. 

a/n: Stopping this one here and writing part 2 next. If I didn’t this would be 3000 words. Don’t worry I’m literally going from posting this part to writing the next bit because I already know what I’m going to do. Then I’m going to write a Paul version of this. 

[sleepless-stories]

Limitations AU |Meetings and a Meeting (end)

Summary: Roman, Virgil, Janus, Patton all go to a meeting of some sort of therapy group and become friends and play games. 

Warnings: None

Note please know that research was done for this series and people with some disabilities used did help with the ideas. if you find something wrong with this series please DM me

________________

Logan sat on Roman’s bed listening to him work and reading a book. Paper cutting, the occasional typing of a keyboard, fabric rustling, and quiet music from Roman’s playlist, which was primarily Disney and Musicals, playing. Roman cut the paper and glued it together, creating a paper puppet of a dragon. He was planning on doing another film with Logan soon. Though they were just relaxing and hanging out right now, planning a bit of the film occasionally.

 The door suddenly opened and Remus popped in, “H-hey bro, ready? Ready to go y-yet?” Roman looked over tilting his head slightly, he didn’t remember having to go anywhere. He didn’t believe he had any plans. Remus noticed Roman’s confusion and him getting lost in thought and laughed a bit, “For-forget al-already?” he laughed a bit, “It’s that st-tupid group therapy thing. I don’t… I don’t see why Mom signed you, you up for it.” Logan glanced over, “Group therapy?” “Yeah Nerd, Thera-py. It’s pro-bably just, just an excuse for Roman to, to get out of the ho-house and make Fr-friends.” Remus shrugged, today seemed to be a good day for him. Sometimes he had bad days and good days regarding his stutter. On bad days he felt like he couldn’t form a sentence without messing up almost every word. But today was alright. Logan nodded, “Could you drive me home after you drive him there?” “Why?” Remus asked. “Well, I walked here with Roman. I didn’t drive today at all, my parents needed the car.” Remus nodded, “Fine I, I’ll drive you.” Logan nodded looking back at his book before noticing the lights flickering. He lowered it looking over at Roman who was standing by the light switch. Roman smiled when Remus and Logan looked at him, ‘Thank you.’ he signed, ‘When do we have to get going?’ Remus watched then checked his phone looking at the time, “Now.” Roman rolled his eyes with an exasperated look as he went over looking in his mirror making sure he looked presentable, aka no glue or paper on him. Then he grabbed his jacket. Logan sat up stuffing his book in his bag before getting off of Roman’s bed and following the two out of the room and to the car. Near the front door he grabbed his jacket and shoes, putting them on, before they all left the house. Remus got into the car starting it up and turning on the radio, before he started driving to the address. It was across town and seemed to be at some community center, it was a place where people could rent rooms like office spaces or meeting rooms for any sort of thing they needed it for. Roman plugged his phone into the car and took over the music, starting to play his playlist some more throughout the ride. Logan just went back to reading his book for awhile till he lost interest. It wasn’t that the book wasn’t interesting or good, it really was a great book. But he just felt a bit bored of it currently and couldn’t read any more of it, that and he had been rereading the same paragraph for a while now and barely taking in what the words said. So he just sat back looking out the window as they drove through town. ____________

Virgil saw the flyer on the counter, group therapy. He knew his parents didn’t think much of him, but group therapy? For someone as anxious as him, that idea was shit. Why send someone who has an anxiety disorder to therapy with other random people they don’t know. Virgil stared at the paper, he had already determined that it would be the worst 3 hours of his life. But… it did mean he would be out of the house and away from his parents for 3 hours on the weekend. So… brightside. Virgil dropped the paper on the counter again before going back to his room. He was actually surprised about one thing though, his parents in question… weren’t actually home currently, which was shocking. His parents had a bad habit of being overbearing and over protective, or just fancy way of saying they were controlling. Virgil constantly was yelled at when he wanted to just go out of the house for a walk, saying how he couldn’t, he would get hurt, he’s too disabled to be on his own. Which was a really shitty excuse for their controlling nature. Virgil sat down on his bed and checked his phone, it was Saturday late afternoon, the group wasn’t for a few more hours, and his parent’s weren’t currently home. Virgil powered off his phone then put on his shoes and jacket before walking out of the house and down the street. He walked down the street not too far from the park in their neighborhood and went to a house. Most of the house was brand new, newly rebuilt, due to the fire a couple months ago. Virgil got to the door and knocked before standing there and waiting. Janus heard knocks at the door and stood up walking to the door. His bedroom was on the first floor right off of their living room. He walked out of his room to the front door. Thomas lifted his head up looking at Janus from where he was laying on Janus’ bed. He watched Janus walk out of the room before stretching and getting up following. Janus heard Thomas following and pulled a treat out of his pocket and gave it to the dog. He went over and opened up the door, “Virgil.” he asked as he opened the door. Virgil saw the door open and watched Janus’ lips, “Yeah.” he replied. Janus heard then smiled recognizing Virgil’s voice. “Come in, We’ll sit on the couch.” he said, still facing Virgil before turning and walking over to the couch and sitting. Virgil nodded, “Ok.” he followed. Virgil shut the door behind himself then went over and sat on the back of the couch before pulling out his phone and typing. “Apparently I have to go to stupid therapy.” the tts said. Janus heard and laughed turning in Virgil’s direction, “Wow, your parents are letting you out of the house?” “Yeah, surprising right?” “Oh absolutely, though I too have to go to some therapy group… My parents have been concerned since the fire.” “Yeah” Virgil nodded. Janus went silent and just leaned back, “You could hang out here for awhile.” Virgil nodded, “Thanks.” he put his phone away and leaned back relaxing. Virgil stayed for only an hour before he walked back home glad his parents were still out. He just went to his room and relaxed closing his eyes and napping for the time being until his parents were back and drove him to the stupid meeting. _____

Patton was in the living room sitting on the couch watching some show, his cat was laying in his lap demanding attention while he was adding more stickers to the side of his wheelchair. “Patton? We should get going so you’re not late.” his mother said walking into the room. Patton looked up, “Oh ok… why do I have to go?” “Because, it’ll be good, you’ll have fun.” Patton sighed and pulled himself off the couch and into the wheelchair. His cat got off his lap and looked at Patton betrayed. Patton wheeled himself to the door and put on his jacket before he went out of the house with his mom. He was helped into the car and sat there looking out the window. It wasn’t the first time he had to go to therapy through the years. He sighed watching as they went to the meeting. __________

Roman walked into the meeting, Remus and Logan decided to follow him in to make sure he got to the right place. Roman looked and saw a door with a cartoon of some guy and a speech bubble saying come right in. Under the character there was information saying what the meeting was. Roman opened the door walking inside the room. Inside the room there was a guy wearing a sweater, a pink tie, and some jeans was setting up the room. He turned when he heard the door open, “Oh! Hello! I’m Emile.” He smiled and signed as he spoke, “Welcome, are you three here for the meeting?” Remus threw his arm over Roman’s shoulders, “N-nope, just, just bringing my ner-nerd bro here.” He replied then pushed Roman forward. Roman stumbled forward then glared at Remus before smiling at Emile and waving. Remus looked at Logan, “Let’s go. See, see ya later bro.” Remus walked out of the room leaving and going back to his car. Logan waved bye to Roman before following Remus out and to his car. Roman sat down in a chair.

Only after 5 minutes three people came into the room, one in a wheelchair. A woman pushed the wheelchair inside, “Hello! This is Patton.” she said and brought the kid in the chair over to the sitting area. Patton smiled, “Hello.” he greeted. The third person went to the back of the room, he was carrying a fold up table with him and put it down setting it up. Emile walked over to the guy and talked with him. The woman, Patton’s mom, waved goodbye and left. She paused at the door holding it open for two guys and a dog before she walked out leaving. Patton lifted himself out of his chair and sat down on the couch next to Roman, “Hi! Roman smiled and waved slightly back. The two guys walked over and sat on the couch opposite to Roman and Patton. Emile smiled and walked back over, “Hello, shall we begin?” he asked, making sure to sign along with what he said. He smiled and looked at Patton, “Why don’t you go first then we’ll go around the room.” Patton nodded grinning, “I’m Patton! Nice to meet you all!” Roman nodded and looked at Emile, “I’m Roman.” Emile repeated, translating for Roman. He then looked at the other two. “I’m Virgil.” Virgil signed then elbowed Janus next to him after he watched Emile repeat him. Janus sighed, “I’m Janus, this is Thomas my eyes. No you can’t pet him.” Janus greeted. Emile nodded, “Alright! Nice to meet you all. I’m Doctor Emile Picani!” He grinned then motioned for someone to come over. The guy from earlier walked over to them. “Hey.” he smiled pushing his sunglasses off and to the top of his head. “I’m Remy. I’m catering basically. So… there’s food over there.” He nodded smiling then stepped back going back over to the area he set up. Everyone waved at him before looking at Emile. Emile smiled, “We’re mostly going to play some games, and talk a bit.” Emile said and nodded grabbing a few things before starting. Roman and Virgil got grouped up and Janus and Patton got grouped up. Originally Emile had paired Virgil and Patton and Janus and Roman… it didn’t work too well, Patton was excited and spoke too fast for Virgil to understand him, then Roman had difficulties communicating with Janus. The games went well.

Near the end of the meeting they went over and ate snacks. Roman laughed softly watching Remy failing at flirting up Emile who didn’t even realize. He was pretty sure Remy volunteered to cater to flirt with Emile. They all hung out, talking and eating. Remus came into the room to pick up Roman and smiled, “Hey Bro!” He said and walked over. He grabbed some food and ate Roman waved at Remus. Remy glanced over, “I see you have a twin, that’s cool. Hey, what do you think of the food?” Remus looked up, “It’s good, have you ever tried adding peppers and pineapple to cookies?” Remy Paused, “Nope, do you have any other ideas?” Remus went over to him telling him a bunch of other ideas he thought of. Remy took notes. Before leaving Patton, Roman, Janus, and Virgil exchanged numbers finding each other fun. Everyone was taken home, it was almost dark out by now while they all went home. Roman ended up texting Logan about the meeting telling him how they mostly played games and he was excited to go again. Logan was glad he had fun at the meeting.

_________________________ General Tag List @crazy-multifandomfangirl @aceawkwardunicorn​ @mistythegenderqueermess

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 1)

@lilyharvord hope you like it!

Masterlist

Words: 2391

It’s a universally recognized truth that a bachelor in possessing of a large fortune should need a wife. However little you may know about the feelings or points of view of such a man on his first appearance in the neighborhood, this truth is so firmly fixed in the minds of the district’s families that he was considered the legitimate property of one or the other of their daughters.

“My dear Mr. Barrow,” his lady told him one day, “did you know that finally the Hall of the Sun has been rented?” 

Mr. Barrow replied no and although his lack of interest was evident, his wife continued with her speech anyway, until, impatient at the absence of an answer, she asked him if he wasn’t interested in knowing who possessed enough fortune to be able to afford it. 

"You want to tell me, and I have nothing against listening,” he replied, enigmatic as always. He had always been a bizarre man, but the war accident that forced him into a wheelchair had somehow accentuated his wit and sarcasm, and despite twenty-three years had passed, his wife, a woman with a simple mind, of low intelligence and even less culture, still struggled to understand him, but somehow it seemed enough for the man, and he loved her dearly. 

“Well, my dear,” she continued, “you must know that Mrs. Long says the Hall of the Sun was rented by a young man who arrived Monday to see the place, and was so delighted that he will send his servants toward the end of the week.”

"And what’s his name, may I ask?” 

“Samos,” replied the woman, innocently. Mr. Barrow knew that name well, as it was that of the family who owned the largest mines in the kingdom, but he didn’t know if their son was a bachelor or not, an answer that soon came from his wife.

“Oh! Bachelor, my dear, you can be sure! What a beautiful thing for our girls! ”

“Why on earth? What do they have to do with it?” he asked, even though he had already guessed his wife’s plan to marry him to one of their daughters. What his spouse didn’t take into consideration was that this might not be the primary interest of the young heir to an industry that seemed to be making him richer and richer: after all, they weren’t a rich nor noble family, and all they had was earned from their work in the textile industry and his and his three sons’ military career.

“Since he’s young, it’s very likely that he can fall in love with one of our girls, and so you must visit him as soon as he arrives,” replied his wife, as if she had not understood that the flow of his thoughts had gone far beyond. 

“I see no reason to do that. You and the girls can go without me, or you can send them alone, which maybe will be better, since you’re as beautiful as they are and Mr. Samos could consider you the best of the bunch.” 

"My dear, you flatter me. Sure, I had my share of beauty, but now I don’t claim to be anything extraordinary, but don’t try to distract me: you really must go.”

 "It’s more than I can commit to doing, I assure you.”

“But think of your daughters. Just think of what arrangement it would be for one of them. The Skonos are determined to go just for this reason, and you know that they generally don’t visit newcomers. You have to go, because if you don’t, it would be impossible for us to visit him.” 

"Surely you have too many scruples: I really think that Mr. Samos will be delighted to meet you, and I’ll send through you my cordial consent to his marriage to whichever girl he prefers, although I’ll have to put in a good word for my little Mare.” 

"Do me the pleasure of not doing such a thing. Mare is nothing better than Gisa and I’m sure she isn’t half as beautiful or half as jovial as her, but you always prefer her over your other daughter.” 

"That’s because I have to balance your obvious preference for Gisa,” the man replied, and not knowing how to win that argument, Mrs. Barrow appealed to her most famous excuse, her feeble nerves.

“Ah, you don’t know how much I suffer.” 

“But I hope you will be able to heal, and live to see many young men with four thousand a year arrive in the neighborhood. ” 

“It wouldn’t do any good even if twenty came, seen that you are not going to visit them,” she replied, angrily. 

“Count on it, my dear, that when they will be twenty, I’ll go and visit every one!” he exclaimed, and walked away, leaving her to wonder if he would go or not, an answer she received the next week, during a conversation that occupied the whole family, in which her husband threw a few clues about his secret visit to Mr. Samos that morning. 

 “I’m tired of Mr. Samos!” exclaimed his wife, after a while.

“I’m sorry, but why didn’t you tell me before? If I had at least known it this morning, I certainly wouldn’t have gone to visit him. It’s really unfortunate, but since I did indeed visited him, now we can no longer avoid him,” he replied, although it really was exactly what he would’ve wanted; even if he was handsome, with an elegant appearance and formal manners, everything in him seemed forced and his expression wasn’t very nice. Even Shade, his third son, who had accompanied him in his visit, didn’t liked him that much, and it was a very strange event, given his character. Anyway, the two had decided not to spoil the enthusiasm of the women and not to instill in them any bad judgment, so, thanks to the general excitement, they retired ahead of time, followed by Bree, who had no interest in dances and social events of that kind, and which would shortly be called back to serve in the army. 

"What an excellent father you have!” exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, as soon as she was left alone with Tramy, her favorite son, and the two youngest. 

“I don’t know how you can ever repay his kindness; or mine too, for that matter. At our age, I tell you, it’s not so pleasant to make new acquaintances every day; but for your sake we would do anything. Gisa, my darling, even if you are the youngest, I really believe that Mr. Samos will be your knight at the next ball.”

Mare was used to that kind of preference, and she spent the rest of the evening speculating about when Mr. Samos would return Mr. Barrow’s visit, and deciding when they should’ve invited him to lunch. The visit was returned within a few days, but although Mr. Samos had hoped of being admitted to the presence of the young ladies, of whose beauty he had heard a lot, he saw only their father. The ladies were a little luckier, as they had the advantage of ascertaining, from a window upstairs, that he was wearing a black jacket and was riding a wonderful thoroughbred stallion. Immediately afterwards an invitation to dinner was sent, and Mrs. Barrow had already planned the dishes that would do her honor when a postponing reply arrived: Mr. Samos was forced to be in town the following day, and consequently was unable to accept the honor of their invitation. Mrs. Barrow was utterly shocked: she couldn’t imagine what he could do so shortly after his arrival that requested his presence at Archeon and she began to fear that he might pass quickly from one place to the other without ever stopping at the Hall of the Sun for the time due. Lady Skonos calmed her fears a little by saying that perhaps he had gone to the capital only to gather a large party for the ball, and soon afterwards news came that Mr. Samos would take twelve ladies and seven gentlemen with him to the party. The girls worried about the number of ladies, but the day before the dance they consoled themselves by learning that, instead of twelve, he would take only six with him, the sister, a dear friend and four cousins, but when the party arrived, he made his entry into the ballroom with just four people, being them his sister, a beautiful woman with an undeniable elegance, this mysterious friend, a noble lady with the appearance of a princess, a cousin and another young man., General Calore, who immediately attracted the attention of the room for his tall and refined figure, his beautiful features and his noble bearing : the gentlemen thought him a refined-looking man, the ladies proclaimed that he was far more attractive than Mr. Samos, and he was object of great admiration for about half of the evening, up when his manner aroused a disapproval that reversed the course of his popularity; it turned out that he was proud, that he thought himself above the company and did nothing to make himself pleasant, and not even his vast estate in Harbor Bay could save him from having a hostile and unpleasant face, not to be worthy of comparison with the other guest, who had immediately made acquaintance with more people and was lively and expansive, danced every round and regretted it was over so soon. These amiable qualities spoke for themselves. What a contrast between him and his friend! General Calore, on his part, danced once with Miss Samos and once with Lady Haven, refused to be introduced to any other lady, and spent the rest of the evening wandering around the room, occasionally talking to someone from his group. He was the most haughty man in the world and everyone hoped he would never show up again, more than anyone else Mrs. Barrow, whose disapproval of his behavior was sharpened by a particular resentment, given he had snubbed one of her daughters: Mare Barrow had been forced by the shortage of men to remain seated for two rounds of dance, and during one of these moments, General Calore found himself standing close enough to allow her to hear unseen a conversation between him and Mr. Samos, who had stopped dancing for a few minutes and approached his friend to persuade him to join him. 

"Come on, Cal,” he said, “I have to make you dance. I hate seeing you standing there alone in such a stupid way. ” 

“I won’t do it for sure. You know how much I hate it, unless I know my lady well. In a place like this it would be unbearable. Your sisters are busy, and in the hall there’s no other woman with whom for me to dance with wouldn’t be one punishment.” 

“I wouldn’t want to be as picky as you are,” exclaimed Mr. Samos, “for all the gold in the world!” 

“You’re dancing with the only attractive girl in the room,” said General Calore, looking at Lady Skonos, “at the moment the least of your interests is gold, be it in your coffers or in the rest of the world! “ 

"There’s a friend of hers sitting right behind you: let me ask my lady to introduce you. ” 

“Who are you talking about?” asked General Calore, and turning, he looked for a moment at Mare, until, having met her gaze, he averted his and said coldly she was passable, but not pretty enough to tempt him. 

“I’m not in the mood to take care of young ladies neglected by other men, so you better go back to your lady and enjoy her smiles, because with me, you’re wasting your time.” 

Mr. Samos followed his advice, and General Calore walked away, leaving Mare with far from cordial feelings towards him. However, she told the story to her friends with great wit since she enjoyed seeing the comic side in everything and didn’t wanted to completely ruin a evening that passed pleasantly for the whole family: Gisa had been greatly admired by Lady Elane Haven and she had danced twice with Mr. Samos’ cousin, which made her as happy as her mother, albeit in a quieter way, and Mare shared the sentiment too; Tramy had never been without a lady, and that was all he cared about in a dance, and when they all returned in good spirits to the village where they lived, they found Bree and Shade still up, both very curious about the events of an evening that had raised such amazing expectations. Somehow, Shade had hoped that his sisters’ expectations on the stranger and his retinue were disappointed, but soon he found he had to hear an entirely different story, at least from Gisa’s side. 

“It was an absolutely delightful evening,” she was already telling, as soon as she had crossed the threshold of the house, “a magnificent dance. I wish you had been there too.” 

“Gisa was so admired that she couldn’t have been more,” explained their mother. “All they talked about was how beautiful her dress was, and Miss Samos’s friend said she would be honored to introduce her to her brother! Also, Mr. Samos’ cousin danced twice with her, just thinking about it makes me shiver with joy; she was the only one in the room that he asked for a second dance! Mr. Samos, on the other hand, invited Miss Skonos and although I was annoyed at first, I must say that I am relieved that a much older man doesn’t think at our youngest in that way. Oh! My dear!“ Mrs. Barrow went on, "I am really thrilled with his family! His sister is so beautiful and charming, I have never in my life seen anything more elegant than her dress. I really think the lace…” 

But before she could start rambling about clothing, Mare interrupted her to inform her brothers about the General rudeness. 

“But I can assure you,” added Mrs. Barrow, “that Mare hasn’t lost much for not having tickled his fancy, since he’s the most unpleasant man that exists, absolutely unworthy and unbearable. I wish your father had been there, he would’ve made him regret such an attitude bitterly! ”

[twokinkybeans]

Love Me ’Til My Life Is Done

Summary:  “I wish you didn’t have to do this for me, Peter…” Tony mumbles staring at the floor. Droplets falling from his silver hair. The strands thin and frail, like the rest of his body. Peter shakes his head.

“No no no, Tony, we’ve been over this. I love you. I chose to be with you and I knew what I got myself into. This-” Peter gestures at the both of them and continues drying off his body, “-is part of that choice. I’ve never regretted it, and I never will.”

-

In which it's the year 2052 and Peter and Tony deal with the new struggles of their age difference and Tony's deteriorating health.

Find it on AO3

Warnings: Old age, dementia, angst, hurt, feelings, medical conditions.

Author’s Note: This work is inspired by a mixture of things, such as my own job and this Tumblr post.  The fic is bittersweet, so please be prepared or leave if you'd rather not read that. I honestly don’t know why I wrote this as I gave myself all the feels too but, ah, here it is! - xx Kim

Peter smiles when he turns off the shower. He takes the large towel from the grab bar behind him and wraps it around Tony’s shoulders, gently rubbing the skin dry. Tony sighs and looks up at the other man, his troubled smile giving away exactly what he’s thinking about. Peter knows how much he hates this. Of course, the intimacy of the situation is nice. But that’s it, really. It’s bittersweet. “I wish you didn’t have to do this for me, Peter…” Tony mumbles staring at the floor. Droplets falling from his silver hair. The strands thin and frail, like the rest of his body. Peter shakes his head. “No no no, Tony, we’ve been over this. I love you. I chose to be with you and I knew what I got myself into. This-” Peter gestures at the both of them and continues drying off his body, “-is part of that choice. I’ve never regretted it, and I never will.” Peter understands where Tony’s coming from. It’s not easy. Nothing about the situation is. Last week, they celebrated Tony’s 82nd birthday. Eighty-two. Tony’s old. Peter isn’t. He’s not the youngest, obviously, but his own 50 years are not even close to catching up with his lover. “I know you and May have been secretly plotting your escape to - what do they call it nowadays - community living? I’m not letting some random strangers take care of either of you.” Peter’s done volunteer work in elderly care a few years prior to Tony’s deteriorating health, and they were so thoroughly understaffed that no one got the attention and care they needed. Peter will not do that to them unless absolutely necessary for whatever reason. “You’re not a nurse though, Peter.” “And you’re not my patient, Tony. You’re my fucking husband. You wish I was a nurse. I’d be the sexiest one you’ve ever seen.” Tony snorts at that and shakes his head. “You’ll never change.” “Nope, now come here,” Peter chuckles as he rips the small package and presses the fentanyl patch onto the man’s shoulder blade, “-look? All done, Sir. Now let me, ‘nurse Peter’, make you pancakes for breakfast.” “Oh, mh- That sounds lovely. Maybe I don’t want to move out after all.” “That’s what I thought.” Peter presses a soft kiss on the man’s cheek and ruffles Tony’s hair. Let’s get you dressed first.”

Ten minutes later, they find themselves in the kitchen. Tony walks over to the chair and grunts as he lowers himself onto it. Aunt May’s already there, reading a book. She puts it down and turns her wheelchair around, beckoning Peter to lean in for a kiss on her cheek. He smiles and does so, squeezing her shoulder as he stands back up.  “Morning, Pete, did he put up a fuss in the shower this morning, took you long enough.” “You know I like making it hard on him,” Tony jokes, making Peter chuckle. These two... May has lived with them for two years now. The woman, despite her age, still as bright and quirky as she’s always been. She’s never been able to regain the required strength needed to walk after the infection that came with her total hip replacement. She didn’t have the money to buy or rent a wheelchair accessible apartment, so Peter and Tony decided she could just come live with them. Not soon after, Tony had a series of transient ischemic attacks. Neither of those ever left too much damage, but it was clear that aside from the desensitization in his left arm, his brain had taken a hit due to the reoccurrence of the attacks too. A near eight months after his first TIA, the doctors diagnosed him with the first stage of vascular dementia. The last TIA occurred more than three months ago and he seemed stable now, but Peter knew it could change at any given moment and that scared him sometimes. It’s tough. The entire situation is. But at the same time, he feels so blessed that he had the time and means to help them. That he has people he cares for so deeply. Peter’s determined to make the most out of every single second they’ve got left.

“Peter, do you think we could eat pancakes for breakfast?” Peter’s heart clenches when the man speaks those words, but he musters a bright smile onto his face. He sees May glance between them, and he knows she knows this was yet another one of - as they’ve started to call it - Tony’s glitches. She keeps her mouth closed, for now, and Peter is glad. Tony is still very much in denial about his illness and talking about it didn’t make it any better so far.  “That’s a great idea, Tones! Let me see if we have the ingredients we need.” 

-

Another.

Tony had another TIA yesterday. Peter’s lips are quivering as he stares at his husband, the sleeping man so small and vulnerable in their double bed. He trails his fingers past the man’s upper arm and sighs, lowering his head. The doctor visited a few hours earlier, checking up on him. He’d sighed. “You know the drill, Mr. Parker. We have to be patient and see which functions come surging back. I’ve prescribed him the same meds as usual.”

Wait and see.

Wait and see.

Peter hates to wait and see. He can’t stand not knowing how much of Tony he’s lost this time. Which memories have been wiped from the man’s existence. Would he still be able to walk? Write? Speak? He knew that TIA’s, as opposed to having an actual stroke, usually came with small losses. One could never be sure though. “Peter, can I come in?” Peter looks up to see Aunt May in the doorway and he nods slightly. The squeaking of her wheelchair familiar and grounding as she rolls towards him.  “I hate this,” Peter croaks and he can no longer keep the stinging in his eyes at bay. His vision becomes blurry when his tears flow freely. “I fucking hate this. I know, I know you’re both going to die one day. And- morbid as it sounds that’s okay. But I can’t lose him while he’s still here, May… I can’t… I can’t…”  “I know, Peter…” May rests a hand on his shoulder and leans in as far as possible. Peter does the same, hugging her carefully and sobs into her embrace. He can deal with Tony forgetting the day of the week. He can deal with Tony mixing up memories. He can deal with Tony wondering where exactly they are.

He’s not sure if he can deal with more losses. But he has to. He has to and he loves Tony. Even if Tony won’t be there, he’s going to love and cherish him. As promised all those years ago. As a good husband should. Because he doesn’t want to leave the man all by himself. He knows, knows that even if a day would come where Tony doesn’t remember his face, he can still provide him with warmth, a gentle touch. He will do exactly that for as long as it takes.

“He’s strong, Peter. We both know that. Don’t give up hope just yet.”

- 

“Jarvis?” Tony mumbles and he squints his eyes at the piece of paper in front of him. A gentle and somewhat familiar female voice answers him. “Yes, boss?”  “Where is Peter? Do you know?” Tony folds the paper carefully and looks for the envelope he fetched himself earlier. He sighs as he can’t find it on his desk and shakes his head. It’s okay, he tells himself. It’s okay. He knows his brain isn’t cooperating but getting angry won’t help him in this situation. He wants to get angry, he does, but he forces it down. There will be a time where he won’t be able to calm himself so he wants to do it now. As long as he’s still aware of his own actions. He stands up from the chair and walks over towards the large closet on the other side of the bedroom to get a new envelope. “In the living room, boss. Watching that old movie from 2019 that May loves so much.” Tony snorts and shakes his head. May sure loves old movies. “Frozen?” “Yes, the second one,” the AI says. Tony smiles, putting the note in the envelope and licking the sticky stripe to seal it. May watches that movie at least twice a year. Every single song, every bit of dialogue stuck in his head forever. No matter how forgetful he’ll get, those images will never escape his mind.

Tony takes a deep breath and carefully slips the envelope under Peter’s pillow to find later. He should go and join Peter and May for the movie. As much as he thinks it’s ridiculous, he’s grown to love it over the years. He readjusts the arm support strap around his wrist to keep it from cutting off his blood supply and stops in his tracks. Did he put the envelope under Peter’s pillow? He turns around and sighs in relief when he sees the edge off the paper sticking from underneath it. Good. He did what he had to do. He turns to the door again and sets off towards the living area.

-

Peter sighs as he crawls underneath the blankets. He helped Tony get to bed earlier, but then as he’d wanted to get in himself, May had called for him to help her go to the bathroom. He did, she was in bed again, and now he was too. Finally. He readjusts his pillow, shifting it closer towards the middle so he can spoon Tony when his hands brush past something. He frowns and reaches out for it. It’s an envelope. He turns it, but both sides are white and empty. “Open it,” Tony breathes quietly. Peter looks at him for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest.  “Is it from you?” “Yes.” Peter takes a deep breath at the answer and carefully tears the envelope open and pulls out the small note. His fingers are near shaking with anticipation when he unfolds it. It’s a handwritten note. Before he reads it, Tony speaks again. “I know it’s not easy, Peter. For either of us, but- I’m forever grateful that you chose to be my husband and…” Tony’s eyes fill with tears. “I want us to enjoy what we have while we still can. I- I found this poem online and I know it isn’t fully accurate yet, but- Dammit. I love you, Peter. I love you, and you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.” “Tony, I-” “Read it first, please. Just read it.”

“Do not ask me to remember” by Owen Darnell Do not ask me to remember, Don’t try to make me understand, Let me rest and know you’re with me, Kiss my cheek and hold my hand.

I’m confused beyond your concept, I am sad and sick and lost. All I know is that I need you To be with me at all cost.

Do not lose your patience with me, Do not scold or curse or cry. I can’t help the way I’m acting, Can’t be different though I try.

Just remember that I need you, That the best of me is gone, Please don’t fail to stand beside me, Love me ’til my life is done.

Peter’s sobbing before he even finishes reading it and once he reaches the end, he rolls over to bury his face against Tony’s chest.  “I will. I will, Tony. I’ll love you ‘til the end and beyond.” “I don’t want to not remember you, Peter. I know my brain is derailing and I sure fucking hope that day never comes. But even then- knowing that you will love me, it’s... It’s more than I could ask for and all I know I need.” “Always. Tones. Always.”