#i straight up already have this written im just debating whether or not i should post it

[senespera-ffxiv]

interest check on an in-depth analysis post about the mechanics of Bakool Ja Ja's Ja Ja's from the perspective of a neuro major with too much time on his hands

[haik-choo]

karasuno boys as boyfriends

a/n: im just basically astral projecting myself into these situations; ALSO if you want more detailed ones, just ask, and you shall receive! (also this is my first post i’ve written on here! but if you want plenty of kpop content i’m @hyucksong where i’ve been writing and I am still active! :))

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[KARASUNO BOYS AS BOYFRIENDS HEADCANNONS]

-tsukishima, yamaguchi, hinata, kageyama, tanaka, nishinoya, sugawara, daichi, and asahi

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tsukishima kei.

the type to look you straight in your eyes when you ask for a hug and say “no, who do you think i am, your boyfriend?”

runs his hands through your hair from the front and then when his hand reaches the back of your head he pulls you into him and kisses you either on the forehead or the lips <3

in order to be in a relationship with him you HAVE to have the same type of humor.

i don’t think he could date someone who doesn’t make fun of people with him

you guys are like best friends who make fun of each other and. make out a little every once in a while

he’ll hold your hand and hug you in public but he will NEVER do anything else, especially not in front of the boys

he thinks the blush that ignites on your kissable cheeks should be for his eyes only

he gave you a keychain that had a cute little strawberry shortcake on it. and it’s your most prized possession 

will shoot a glare at anyone who watches you too closely. like no. don’t get googly eyed over MY girlfriend. 

and you don’t have a problem with that ;) 

yamaguchi tadashi.

he likes to watch you when you’re not looking to pick out the little habits you do

he thinks that knowing someone’s little hardly noticeable habits is one of the most intimate things on mother earth

he knows that you stir the milk in the bowl three times before you pour the cereal in to check for chunks because you accidentally drank spoiled milk when you were younger

NEVER has an issue getting you a gift for any occasion. he ALWAYS knows what you’re looking at and what you want and you lowkey think he can read your mind but in reality he just pays attention <3

you’re either just as shy as him to bring out his more assertive side or more assertive than he is to bring out his more timid side -- both are good

kisses you on the forehead and holds your hand in public -- he loves PDA because he can show you off :’)

yes. he kisses the back of your nape in public. so what. 

YES. HE CLOSES HIS EYES WHEN HE DOES IT AND ACCIDENTALLY INHALES YOUR SCENT AND WHISPERS IN YOUR EAR THAT YOU SMELL GOOD. IDC IF YOU THINK THAT’S CREEPY. IT’S CUTE. YES. HE GIVES YOU THAT LOOK THAT SAYS HE’S CRAZILY IN LOVE WITH YOU. SO WHAT.

kageyama tobio.

he probably fell in love with you because you were just as passionate about something else as he is about volleyball; music, drawing, writing, math, science, reading -- whatever

i see this relationship as being one that’s like...accelerated friends. like,,, you act like him and hinata except you kiss sometimes and he can see you at the end of the wedding aisle

DEFINITELY reads cosmopolitans once you start dating because he wants to be a good boyfriend for you <3

PDA is literally little to NONe,,, not because he doesn’t like it...it’s just because he doesn’t realize that he’s not showing you affection lololol

like in one arm he has his athletic duffel bag and the other he has a volleyball

he doesn’t mean to neglect you he just does AGAGAG

realized he liked you when he thought about you when he was drinking his milk and mindlessly bought you one too

the first time y’all kissed. he literally stared at you so intensely for a SOLID ten minutes debating in his head whether or not he should just go for it or wait or just smash his face into yours and hope your lips connect

he chose to cross his fingers and ended up smashing his forehead and nose into yours 

it was cute tho <3

hinata shoyo.

YALL HAVE DATES WHERE YOU BABYSIT HIS SISTER. WTF SO CUTE

when yall cuddle and you’re the little spoon he likes to put his head on your shoulder/between your neck and watch as you scroll through tiktok or instagram and just mindlessly talk about his day 

the type of boyfriend where neither of you can cook and you both confusedly look at recipes on google like: ????? wtf is the difference between brown sugar and regular sugar

it’s his INSTINCT to hold your hand. no matter what. his hand just...gravitates to yous.

AND HIS LIPS JUST FIND YOUR CHEEK??? like it’s so natural to him to kiss your cheek when he sees you, even in public. it’s so adorable i--

THE TYPE OF GUY TO WIPE OFF FOOD FROM THE CORNER OF YOUR MOUTH AND STILL EAT IT AND SAY “you taste good!~” AND NOT EVEN REALIZE WHAT HE SAID. BUT WHEN YOU DO IT TO HIM HE BLOWS A FUSE

he loves to tickle you. like you’ll be vibing, drinking whatever you drink in the morning and he’ll come up to you all casually and kiss you cheek...and then he’ll pounce 

he holds you close to his chest when he tickles you, partally because he likes feeling your laugh vibrate on his chest, and partially because it’s easier to not get tickled if he’s right behind you

his sister LOVes you and it just. makes him so happy

tanaka ryuunosuke.

you CANNOT remove his hand from your ass. it is permanently glued there. it is attached to you. yes, even in public.

number 1 hypeman! he will always support you, no matter what! you could be in a competition to raise the biggest beetle and he’ll be there rooting you on and staying up late with you as you rear your award-winning beetle

you two lay next to each other on the couch/on his bed and he’ll have his arm around you and you’ll lay your head on his chest as you watch netflix shows

YOU, NISHINOYA, AND TANAKA? UNSTOPPABLE TRIO. POWER TRIPLET. 

i don’t imagine him being shy when he first kisses you; the first time he kissed you, you were literally just. existing and he literally just...couldn’t hold it in...and he just went for it

literally CATAPULTS himself into you and kisses you senseless

yes you and saeko are besties she gives you ALL the tea about young tanaka

the type to take off his shirt more during practice if you’re there watching, and literally BURN red if you mention anything about his muscles

you once traced a vein in his arm and commented on how hot it was and he literally short-circuited 

kiss his biceps. kiss his abs. kiss his cheek. please. it’s all he wants. he’s touch-starved

nishinoya yuu.

SUCH an excited boyfriend

like he seriously gets so hype doing ANYTHING with you pleaSE give this man an award. you’ll be at the amusement park and the line to get into a ride will be three hours and he’ll be like

“I get to spend three hours with you?!! fucking sick! absolutely radical!” 

he’s bold in public, but only because he wants to rub you in his teammates faces, but his ears will be Red

at home, he’s calmer :) he just loves to spend time with you, even if you’re sitting on a bench watching him practice receives for five hours straight in the blazing sun. 

he just treasures your time so much, you treats you like a precious gem -- he will NEVER treat you wrong. deadass has no problem admitting when he’s wrong -- but if he thinks he’s right then he WILL stand his ground

he’s a passionate man, who loves just as passionately.

his favorite time to kiss you is after you’ve taken a sip of a soda because he likes the taste of the syrup and the burn of the carbonation, but most of all because he likes the taste of your lips in combination with all of them

NIPS AT YOUR EAR. DEADASS JUST LOOKS AT YOU BRUSH A PIECE OF HAIR BACK WHEN YOU’RE DOING HOMEWORK AND IS LIKE “free real estate” AND C H O MPS

the day nishinoya told everyone yall were dating, kiyoko stopped you in the hallway and deadass got on her knees and thanked you LITERALLY she was like “i’ll buy you anything. give the word and it’ll be yours.” 

sugawara koushi.

would kiss you on the first date. deadass. he’ll just drop you off at your doorstep and you’re still high on adrenaline, and you’re lowkey hoping he’ll kiss you and you get  little disappointed when he doesn’t and then when you least expect it. bam. his lips on yours

his smell oh god, he literally smells like fresh sugar cookies. it’s like as soon as you get anywhere near him his smell just invades you nose and. you’re powerless. you just wanna hug him

never smells bad. try me, bitch. NEVER.

his hugs are literally god’s gifts. he loves hugging you. he just completely envelopes you with his pretty setter arms and his smell takes up all the space in your head and nothing else exists for that moment, just you two

loves tucking your hair behind your ears or just moving it out of your face; doing homework and your bangs are in the way? not for long because he’ll clip them up for you <3

he’s pretty mischievous and will playfully put his hand next to your head and lean down with such a HOT look in his eyes 

and he’ll say some shit like “i wanna devour you” and then he’ll laugh afterwards and give you a kiss on the forehead and you’re standing there. like -.- o.o -.- o.o

whenever he feels insecure about his position on the team, you’re always there to comfort him and he’ll just lay between your legs and rest his face on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair and scroll through tiktok

PDA? yes please. uh huh. mhmm. he doesn’t care who sees his love for you he just wants to love on you baby. kisses you on the lips, no problemo

daichi sawamura.

you and suga are the only ones who can scare him when yall are mad lol

boyfriend where you’ve dated for like a year but it feel like 50 have already passed. in a good way!

this relationship is so ungodly domestic. like from the first day it’s just pure comfort and he’s like your rock and you’re his anchor

you two bicker a lot but it’s lighthearted and you just feel so secure with him that poking fun at him and at yourself is just natural

daichi. gives. god. hugs. he does. it’s fact. 

his arms are just so big and he has so much body warmth and he probably smells like some bullshit cologne like “smoldering woods” and it’s just so. daichi

you two spend the night at each other’s house so often it’s like you already live with each other and people always forget that you don’t lolol

totally sleeps with his shirt off and only with underwear. isn’t awkward about it either;  when he wakes up he puts on sweats but still remains topless (not that you’re complaining)

you two are like. the strict parental couple, when you walk together whether it be down the street or in the hallways, you just look so right for each other it’s. mind blowing

doesn’t mind kissing you a little in public but really thinks that stuff should be for private; so normally he just kisses your temple and always has an arm either around your shoulder or around your waist

WHEN THE TEAM SEES YOU KISS ON THE LIPS THEY GO “EW” EVEN SUGA AND ASAHI AFIEFHEWIF

asahi azumane.

literal fucking teddy bear. god please cuddle him. please kith him. please comb through his hair with your fingers and kiss his nape and kiss the back of his head. please i beg of you.

did NOT ask you out first. he wrote love letter to you and then waiting behind the gym because he thought being near the volleyball gym would give him some luck and them you got in front of him and he was. deer in the headlights

needless to say you asked him out and kissed his cheek. he DIED

even once yall are comfortable in the relationship he still needs reassurance every once in a while because he’s a little insecure, not that you’ll leave him for someone else, but that he’s not good enough

his PDA skill are. subpar. he usually just holds your hand and that’s it, but sometimes kisses the corner of your eye or nose and you just combust

OH RIOGEH TOTALLY DOES BUTTERFLY AND BUNNY KISSES. YES GOD YESSSSS

when yall cuddle he doesn’t like spooning. he likes to be able to see your face and the expressions you make, so doesn’t like being the little or big spoon; yall face each other and just lets your head lay on his arm even tho it’s numb. im: soft

kisses are so sweet, slow, and hesitant. he doesn’t really kiss you often because he has terrible timing but...when he does it’s like the whole world just becomes still in that moment and nothing matters but his hands on your waist and yours in his hair 

[neverdoingmuch]

Wait cql lawyer/law school AU

i got you my pal dont worry!!

law school, im gonna be honest and say i know like nothing about law or law school so pls ignore any inconsistencies or inaccuracies

lwj goes to law school and he is definitely the top student in his class. they’ve been there for like a month and everyone already knows he’s gonna be the best

his one and only competition is this dude called wei wuxian but lwj isn’t particularly worried about him

so far they’re still in the stage of the course where they do the fun things to sucker people into doing the class for the semester so there’s been some practise debates and arguments and stuff in their tutorial classes

wei wuxian has that Charisma and like yeah all of his arguments are perfect but also he has an amazing smile and people are like yes i can trust him 

(he’s definitely the sort to be like hm, the easy way to argue this case would be to quote some laws and use precedence to justify this but that’s boring)

lwj is also good at that sort of stuff because his arguments are perfect and everything is so perfectly researched that there should be no ground at all for someone to lodge a counterargument

(wei wuxian manages somehow and it makes lwj so mad)

but that’s whatever lwj thinks,, a lot of people join law thinking it’s gonna be like the tv shows and books and then get completely blindsided when it comes to the rote learning part or like the actual laws 

and for all of wwx’s confidence, lwj hasn’t actually seen wwx so much as touch the textbook/s and he always studies in the law library so he knows that wwx has probably never even been there bc he hasn’t seen him even once (why’s he looking? bc he needs to see which books wwx uses to study,, bc there has to be something going on there,, obviously)

then they do their first like proper written assignment and lwj and wwx tie for the highest scores and now lwj has a Rival and he refuses to lose to someone who thinks that putting a ‘-us’ sound at the end of a word makes it latin (did wwx say habeas corpus and then point at a soft drink and go  sprite-us can-us,,, maybe,,,,)

anyway! lwj and wwx are kinda rivals for the top spot and it’s one of those situations where one test lwj wins by a point but then the next test wwx gets full marks and they just keep exchanging the top spot in class

and this whole time wwx is like The Worst to have in class. he’s always interrupting to ask questions or just straight up not listening and spends the class doodling pictures of rabbits (they’re cute but wwx is terrible and he’s not allowed to make cute drawings)

so after a few months the most horrible thing happens.... they get put together in a project and lwj is like ugh. internally of course but his face is also saying ugh

the first time wwx and lwj get together to work on the project, lwj is prepared with a proper list of tasks to do all nicely split up between the two of them and a schedule for when they should get certain parts done by. 

needless to say, lwj does not expect wwx to be ready, but wwx is definitely on top of things

he rocks up and is like yeah let’s do this, this and this and have them done by this time - basically proposing to do everything that lwj has already written down

and lwj is pleasantly surprised and is like hm maybe i misjudged wwx and decides to like re-evaluate his opinion on him

in doing so he realises that when he’d never seen wwx studying, it wasn’t an exaggeration at all. he’s never seen wwx so much as touch a textbook or spend more than a minute on a laptop doing something that wasn’t minesweeper or solitaire

but wwx is also making all of their deadlines and even adds extra information and resources to their document that could be useful elsewhere and sometimes he shows up to their study sessions and he looks absolutely exhausted

eventually lwj manages to get the truth out and wwx is just like yeah it’s easier to get worse grades than a genius but if you both study and you still get lower grades, it’s not easy,, for jc or for me

so wwx usually studies at night when his brother is asleep and lwj is like that’s bad, you can’t keep that up and just when wwx is about to go off at him lwj is like you can come study at my place

and thus begins the wonderful time where everything is alright and lwj falls in love with wwx

they work really well together and wwx is strangely considerate and nice? when he finds out lwj likes rabbits, he goes out and buys bunny post-it notes for lwj and starts to always bring him a doodle of bunnies every time he comes over. he always gets his work done on time, early even, and his work is always so brilliant and every time wwx smiles at him, lwj feels warm inside etc etc

for a long while lwj is like yes (: this is friendship (: bc he’s never had a crush before but then on the day they submit their project wwx is like hey,, the two of us make a great team,, we should always work together,, now and next year and even when we graduate,, i want to help the innocent people who need our help and i think i’d like it a lot if you joined me and lwj has his oh moment

they get a perfect score on the project of course and even after it finishes, wwx keeps coming over to lwj’s place to study or just hang out and lwj is just falling more and more for wwx each day

they’re best friends now and everyone gets used to seeing them work together on projects and then turn around to try and decimate each other when they’re working one on one and lwj thinks that he might just be the happiest he’s ever been

but then one day wwx doesn’t show up to class. it shouldn’t be strange but wwx has never missed class even once and he ends up hearing from lxc who heard from jgy that wwx was caught sabotaging some other student’s work (the other student was jzxun, who had a fondness for playing devil’s advocate and other than wwx once telling him that his argument was shit, wwx never spoke to him or seemed to know who he was but lwj is a bit too angry to remember that)

he manages to find wwx outside of his dorms as he’s moving out and he’s just like why did you do that? and wwx is like oh y’know,, bc he’s not really sure what’s happening himself,, one second he was at the top of his class and the next he was being brought before a board and being told that he was being expelled but he’s not going to tell lwj that bc lwj would definitely try and stand up for him and then they’d both get expelled

but lwj is furious and just spits out well if our dreams meant so little to you then maybe it’s a good thing you failed now,, bc his mother was a lawyer who took all these little jobs that helped people who actually needed the help and lwj was looking forward to doing that with wwx and he doesn’t even seem to care that now they can’t do that 

wwx flinches and then smiles at him and just cheerily says, that’s me and leaves. he doesn’t look back and lwj doesn’t chase after him.

lwj doesn’t see him again for years (you can do 13 or 5 or however long you feel like)

lwj is a fully licensed lawyer and he’s working for the family company and he spends half of his time working on cases and uses the rest of his time to do like outreach programs where he goes and visits schools and runs sessions on what it’s like to be a lawyer, how to apply, and to provide assistance to any students who decide to study law at uni

and then at one of these programs he meets this kid, wen yuan, who is ridiculously bright and enthusiastic and has a smile that seems oddly familiar

at the end of the second session he comes up to lwj and is like mr. lan, is your name lan wangji? and lwj just says yes, expecting the kid to be a fan of one of his cases or something but then wen yuan is like oh wow! i thought i recognised you from my dad’s photo!

and lwj isn’t expecting much but he asks what the photo looks like and wen yuan pulls out this photo from his pocket and lwj immediately recognises it,, it’s the only photo he has of him and wwx

your father is wei ying? lwj asks him and wen yuan is like yes, hesitates, and then asks, would you like to see him?

and that’s how lwj finds himself following wen yuan to some dinky little office that has a plaque outside that reads wen and wei

(wen ning is the nicest and sweetest person ever and lots of people underestimate him but then he’s an absolute monster on court. he gets up and completely decimates the opponent and then at the end is like (: it was so nice to meet you!! i am baby!! and all that,, you know our boy)

anyway they walk in and wwx turns to greet wen yuan but then he sees lwj and is like woah! you! and he’s not sure whether to hide or go and hug lwj so he just gives him a fist bump,, like a bro,, and immediately wants to shrivel up and die

anyway they get the reunion stuff out of the way, swelling music, tender wrist holding, lots of staring, lwj silently declaring his wholehearted love for wwx and refusing to believe rumours about him again even though he doesn’t actually know what happened, you know how it goes

from wwx’s side of things,, after he got kicked out he went to some small uni. good in its own right but not known for their law program and ended up specialising in family law

the first case he ever won was for the wens to have the right to keep custody of a-yuan and the first case wen ning ever won was to let wwx adopt a-yuan bc i’m soft like that

so wwx has just been kinda vibing,, being a single dad, living with the wens and helping to make that difference he always promised he would

now this isn’t gonna be some au where lwj goes oh my! i must give up my high salary job and work with wwx! bc lwj has been doing good stuff at his current job and for all of his family’s stuffiness, they run a fair and just company 

but! he does end up helping wwx when wwx gets a letter with a bunch of information about the jins and how they’re actually super corrupt and evil (big surprise,,) and how wwx was maybe definitely framed bc he was doing some casual work on the side and stumbled across some bad shit on the jins back in uni

lwj ends up being the one to take the case officially but wwx is definitely the guy leading it and so lwj ends up spending most of his time at the wen-wei office

lwj definitely bonds with wen yuan, who also wants to go into law, and writes him recommendation letters and helps him edit his applications and stuff

(and one day wen yuan is like leaving you was the hardest thing dad ever did and i dont think you appreciated how much he cared about you. he really did think that he annoyed you ‘til the end and lwj is like no! he didn’t! and wen yuan is like yeah i know but you gotta tell him and lwj really does mean to but the time is never right or something like that but also wen yuan is all but calling lwj dad at this point)

anyway they end up going to court, side by side, working as a team just as they promised to do and just as they finish their final day on the case, ended with the jury ruling jgy guilty and wwx’s reputation all but saved, wwx turns around and flings himself at lwj

is he crying? is he laughing? a bit of both tbh but wwx ends up confessing right then and there, still on record and everything (is that how that works??? idk! let’s say it does)

and what can lwj do but make out with him?

did a news crew come in to film the results of this massive court case just to end up with five minutes of wangxian kissing?? maybe! but when it played on tv it meant wwx and lwj didnt have to actually tell anyone they got together

(and does lwj eventually pop the question using wwx’s bad latinification? yes and wwx is too busy laughing to accept at first but he does and they end up being the worst possible tutors for wen yuan as he goes through law school bc they keep being all gross and lovey-dovey and acting like law school is the most romantic place in the world)

[socialoutsiderwritings]

Carpool Harryoake

 Harry Styles x Reader

 A/N: Uhm I’m in literal tears because this fine ass is turning 25 in like 3 days .... WOWOWOW my hearttttttttt. Also , i don’t own any of the song’s (lyrics)???? Lyrics are in italics. It’s probably written really weird with like the lyrics and everything but I literally dreamt this and I had to write it.

 Songs : I do it so well - the struts , isnt she lovely -stevie wonder , smells like teen spirit - nirvana , one thing , diana , over again , wolves - one direction.

  “I’m so nervous,” you spoke to Harry. “I already told them I can’t sing. I’m literally tone deaf.” You laugh. “I hope they cut my nagging out.” You laugh and reach towards the radio to play the first song. 

  I've been talking shit almost every single day Walking down the streets of sunny LA Watch me now, walk, talk, movin' 'round the corner, "Hello" I work harder than a sauna

I've been flying high almost every single day

Pushin' all my luck, it's goin' my way

Kiss me now, tongues, hands slidin' into places, "Hello" Speed up, picking up the paces

Why don't you ring it, come and ring it Come and ring my bell Why don't you bring it, come and bring it Come and bring me hell Don’t I do it so well? I do it so well Don't I do it so well? Uh-huh Girl, you're my holy, you're my holy You're my holy grail Yeah I'm a star, yeah I'm a star I'm a five-star hotel Don't I do it so well? I do it so well Don't I do it so well? Honey

 “I love that song!” You exclaim. “It really got me pumped.” 

 “You should have let me drive. I never get to drive.” He playfully whined.

 “Oh , like you’re any better.” You playfully smacked him. “My first carpool karaoke , how am I doing so far?”

 “Uhm , well , you have a lot of energy and dance moves for someone who’s driving. Im a lil’ scared.” He confessed.

 “I can drive with my eyes closed , what are you talking about!” 

 “Oh my god! Please don’t do that.” He grabbed on to the wheel as he saw you close your eyes. You laughed before opening your eyes again.

“Today’s a special day , innit?”

Harry smiles, “it’s my birthday.”

“Tha’s right. You’re like , what , 30?” You joke. 

“Ha ha. No. I’m only 25 thank you very much. Let’s go back in time shall we?” You squealed in excitement when the familiar tune started playing thru the speakers.

  Isn't she lovely Isn't she wonderful Isn't she precious Less than one minute old I never thought through love we'd be Making one as lovely as she But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she pretty Truly the angel's best Boy, I'm so happy We have been heaven blessed I can't believe what God has done Through us he's given life to one But isn't she lovely made from love

  “Oh my God. I remember watching your audition and I got goosebumps all over. Look,” You held your arm out in front of him , “and you still manage to give me goosebumps again.” 

 “I was really nervous that day. I don’t know if you could notice it.” 

 “No , not even one bit. But I do remember the OUTFITS!” You cackle. Harry covered his face to hide the smile playing on his lips. “I mean , we’ve all had that phase.” You tell him to make him feel better. “I have pictures of me in just really really , you know , just dark edgy outfits. And not the fashionable kind. I had a bunch of band t-shirts that I paired with checkered skinny jeans and animal beanies and God it was bad.” You scrunch your face up at the memory. “And it was all heavy eyeliner and my arms were covered in bracelets up to my elbow. I can’t believe my mom let me go out like that.” 

 “You have to let me see those pictures.” He laughs. 

 “No way! Never in a million years.” 

“That’s not fair. You saw all of mine.”

 “Because they were pap shots.” You mocked him. “I actually probably burned all of them if I’m honest.”

 “You listened to a lot of rock music back in the day then?” 

“Oh yeah.” You nodded. “Still do. My taste in music is all over the place. If I like I like it , really. But really my heart will always belong to punk rock.”

 “So do you know this one?” He smirks. You pause the song when you recognize it and look at Harry.

 “You know I do! But its gonna have to be all you , because I will literally shatter all the windows on this car if I even attempt to sing this.” Harry ignores you and plays the song. “Oh my god.” 

Load up on guns, bring your friends It's fun to lose and to pretend She's over-bored and self-assured Oh no, I know a dirty word

Hello, hello, hello, how low Hello, hello, hello, how low Hello, hello, hello, how low Hello, hello, hello

You look out the window and notice the girls in the car next to you are waving at you while recording you with their cellphones in their other hand. You tap Harry and he props himself up on his arm to look over. He waves at them and tells them to sing with you two.

With the lights out, it's less dangerous Here we are now, entertain us I feel stupid and contagious Here we are now, entertain us A mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido Yeah, hey

 The car behind you honks for you to go and you wave at them before speeding off. “That was good.”

 “I heard you used to have a lot of One Direction poster sin your room when you were younger.” Harry giggles.

 “I did. And I have no shame.” You point out. “Plus I know my sister told you and I know she’s gonna watch this so,” You look directly in to the camera , “you better watch your back cuz you’re gonna pay for revealing classified information.” You joke. “Plus,” you turn your attention back to Harry, “it’s not like every other girl in the world didn’t have posters of you boys at one point in their life.”

 “You were a pretty big fan then?” You nod. “Well then let’s play a game. I’ll play a song and we have to figure out what lyric comes after.”

 “I am gonna murder you in this game. I know ALL of them.”

 “I was in the band!” He argues. 

 “Yeah , yeah.” You wave a dismissive hand at him. “Are we doing all the albums or?”

 “All of the albums. Are you ready?” He says as he holds the phone in his hands.

 “I was born ready , baby.” He laughs and presses play.

Now I’m climbing the walls. But you don’t notice at all. That I’m going out of my mind. All day and All night.

“Easy!” You yell when he presses pause. “So get out , get out get outta my head. And fall in to my arms instead. I don’t , I don’t don’t know what it is. but I need that one thing.” You belt out with passion.

 “I gave you an easy one. Ok , next one.”

 Let me be the one to lift your heart up and save your life. I don’t think you even realize Baby , you’d be saving mine. Diana

“Oh shit.” You laugh. “Wait no, I know this.” 

 Harry cups his hands over his mouth , “Fake fan. Fake fan.” He chants.

 “No! I know this one..” you tap your fingers on the steering wheel impatiently, “Ok no. I don’t know.” You slowly lower your head so your forehead is resting on the steering wheel and fake sob when you reach the stoplight.

 Harry mockingly clears his throat, “It’s only been four months but you’ve fallen down so far. How could someone mislead you at all? I wanna reach out for ya. I wanna break these walls. I speak a different language But I still hear your call.” He sings. You turn your head to face him and he pretends to drop a mic.

“We’re tied! So it doesn’t count.” You sit up straight again. You focus back on the road as Harry chooses another song. 

 And I can lend you broken parts That might fit like this And I will give you all my heart So we can start it all over again

 “Again we can take the same road two days in the same clothes And I know just what she’ll say if we i can make all this pain go Can we stop this for a minute You know I can tell you that your heart isn’t in it or with it. Tell me with your mind body and spirit , I can make your tears fall down like the showers that are British,” You drag a fake tear down your cheek , “whether we’re together or apart We can both remove the masks and admit that we regret it from the start. If you’re-” Harry places a hand over your mouth.

 “I get it. You know the lyrics.” He deadpans. “You’re so competitive.” He jokes.

 Your jaw drops at his comment , “me? Look who’s talking.” You laugh.

 “Last one.”

I aint up for debating , Aint enough for the taking , You got the whole world shaking.

 “in the middle of the night when the wolves come out , headed straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark. One by one , I gotta take them down But you run and hide , aint goin down without a fight.” You and Harry sing in unison.

“No , it’s almost over.”

 “Thank God. I’m starting to lose my hearing.” He covers his ears.

 “Rude.” He laughs and reaches over to give you a quick squeeze. “Anyway,” you playfully push him away, “this last one is one of my favorites. So we’re gonna do something big.” You smile mischievously. 

 “Now I’m really scared.” He tells you as you pull in to a parking lot of a bar. You hand him a blindfold and he hesitates before grabbing it form your hand. “You’re joking?” You smile as you shake your head. “You know this is recording right?”

 “Harry , just put it on.” You tell him before stepping out of the car.

 “You’re missing the main part of carpool karaoke.” He yells at you before you slam the driver’s door shut. You wait for him to put on the blindfold before grabbing his hand and helping him out of the car. “The last time I went along with something like this , a stripper was involved.” He told you as you continued to lead him. 

 “Yeah , well you’re not getting that lucky today.” You stopped when you finally made it inside. “On the count of three,” you let go of his arm and walked away from him , “take off the blindfold. One , two , three.”

 “Happy birthday to you,” you , his mom , Gemma, James and a few of his other friends began to sing when he removed the blindfold. He couldn’t help the grin that made its way on to his face. Anne lit the candles on his cake as everyone continued to sing. He wiped away the tears of job from his eyes before they could make their way down his face. 

 “You were in on this?” He points to James as he walks over to him when you had all finished singing. James just laughs and gives Harry a tight hug. He makes his way around the bar hugging and thanking all of his guests.

 “Hey. Don’t forget to blow out the candles.” You call to him. He rushes back tot he table where the cake is , “Make a wish birthday boy.” You smirk.

 “I think you know what I want.” He whispers to you , before lowering himself and blowing out the candles. 

-------------

Part 2 COMING SOON 

[under-atomic-skies]

Never Too Late

Summary:   Three years after moving to Gravity Falls, Ford gets a call from an old colleague regarding one of his patients with a fake ID who looks a lot like Ford. Could this man really be Stanley? Written as a request for Pineslover123 (AO3)

Feel free to send me requests

Warnings: implied suicide attempt

Word count: 4885

AO3

Winter was finally giving way to spring, but with the warmer weather came the storms. Stanford didn’t mind the storms all that much as he used to as a kid. There was something relaxing about listening to the sound of the rain hitting the roof or the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. It was sometimes annoying when he had work to investigate out in the woods, but luckily he had plenty of work he could do indoors to keep him busy.

He settled himself into one of the tables near the window so he could watch the storm outside. A cup of coffee rested beside the thick, maroon book he was making notes in. On the front was a golden six fingered hand with the number 2 written in thick, black ink.

He’d moved to the sleepy, backwoods town of Gravity Falls, Oregon not three years ago. The area had drawn his attention by the unusually high reports of anomalous activity, and to his pleasant surprise, he couldn’t get much farther away from his home town if he tried. More or less, he made a home for himself here. It wasn’t homey in the normal sense as it was filled with specimens he’d found and pages upon pages of notes he’d written or read, but he’d built the home with the help of some local lumberjacks and it was his own space.

It was everything he had wanted. He’d finally found a place where a person like him could fit in.

As the heavy rain beat down on the house, he could only distantly hear the sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen. Luckily, his friend and research assistant, Fiddleford McGucket answered it.

“Hello, Pines residence,” he said into the phone. His voice, twinged with a southern accent, tang above the sound of the rain. Finally noticing there was a call, Ford turned his head towards the direction of the kitchen.

“Yes, he’s here,” Fiddleford said. There was a pause before he spoke up again, “Sure, I’ll go get ‘im. Hold on.”

Footsteps neared the front room and Fiddleford emerged from the hallway leading from the kitchen.

“Stanford,” he called from the doorway, “Ya got a phone call.”

Ford sighs quietly and shuts his book, the gold hand on the front reflecting in the overhead light. Reluctantly, he stands from his desk and approaches his friend.

“Who is it?” He asks. They didn’t usually get too many phone calls here. Usually, it was Fiddleford’s wife, or occasionally his mother that called, but if that were the case now, Fiddleford would have just said so.

“Ed something? He says he knew you back at Backupsmore.” Fiddleford reports.

The name Ed did sound somewhat familiar. It wasn’t like Ford had gotten close to anyone apart from Fiddleford, so why would he be calling?

Intrigued, Ford squeezed past Fiddleford and went to the kitchen. The phone had been set on one of the counters, and Ford wasted no time in picking up the receiver and holding it to his ears.

“Hello, this is Stanford Pines.”

“Hey Ford, it’s Ed White,” the voice on the other hand said. There was a pause as Ford tried to connect the name to where he remembered the man from. Ah, yes! Ed has taken some courses with him. Psychology or something? Ford wasn’t one to like to dabble in the softer sciences, but had taken some courses none the less.

“Ed,” Ford finally spoke up, “I wasn’t expecting a call from you.”

The other laughed a bit awkwardly, sounding almost forced, “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting this either if I’m frank.”

‘Frankly is the only way I speak’, his fathers voice suddenly rang in his head, causing him to wince.

“Was there a reason you’re calling?” Ford asked somewhat curiously.

“Yeah, about that,” the voice on the other end was a bit hesitant, “Look, I’m not sure if I’ve got the right guy, but I have a patient here that looks an awful lot like you, but he came in with what looks like a fake ID. Does the name Steve Pinington mean anything to you?”

Ford’s body stiffened at the mention of someone looking similar to him. Steve Pinington? He didn’t know anyone by that name, but the name sounded awfully similar to Stanley Pines. It also sounded like the kind of name Stan would give himself for a fake ID.

But what use would his brother have for a fake ID? They had turned 21 several years ago, so he couldn’t possibly need an ID to forge that.

“Not exactly, but Steve Pinington sounds awful close to my brothers name.” Ford replies, debating on whether or not he should hang up now. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in seven years, not since his brother had sabotaged his chances of getting into West Coast Tech.

His hand tightened around the receiver at the memory. Seven years had done little to lessen the anger and resentment Ford harbored for his twin.

His muscles were practically itching to hang up, but something stilled him. Ed has mentioned he was a patient, a patient with a fake ID none the less.

“Just what kind of trouble did my brother get himself into?” Ford asked with a sigh, pinching his nose. He didn’t have time for this. Stanley has ruined his life once. He should hang up and forget this conversation happened so he could get back to his studies.

“A lady called in to report a man passed out in his car a few days ago.” Ed began, his voice suddenly much quieter and softer. It put Ford on edge, “When the authorities got there, they found that he had taken a bunch of pills. They took him in to pump out his stomach and once he was recovered enough, he came to me.”

Ford felt like he was going to be sick. Stanley has taken pills? The stubborn part of his brain wanted to believe it was an accident, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging part of him that knew it was no mistake.

“You still there, Pines?” Ed asked.

Ford jerked out a nod, then remembered Ed couldn’t see him, “Yeah, I’m here.” He murmured quietly, “He came to you, you said. What does that mean? What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor at the Utah State Hospital. I treat the patients that come in here, and your brother is one of them. Since he had a fake ID, we couldn’t find any medical records or family to contact. I only happened to see that he looks fairly similar to you.” Ed explains patiently. Ford sits heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

What if they had found family to contact? They would have called their parents first and what if Filbrick had been the one to pick up? Ford winced to think that Filbrick would hang up, not having a single care for the son he had kicked out of his home.

Was Ford really any better though? He had watched Filbrick kick Stan out and hadn’t lifted a finger. He’d been so angry at Stan that he hadn’t cared he’d been kicked out. He’d briefly thought about his brother over the years but told himself that Stan would be fine and dismissed the thought.

Now Ford knew for a fact that Stan wasn’t fine. He’d downed god knows how many pills in the solitude of his car. If he had died, would Ford have even known? Ed only knew to contact him because of their similarities in appearance. If Stan had died, Ed wouldn’t have been there to connect two and two together and Stan would have been thrown in a nameless grave.

The thought made Ford feel sick. Swallowing his bile, he spoke up again, not caring how his voice wavered. “I’m coming to see him.”

He found a piece of paper laying around and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket to write down the address Ed gave him. Ford estimated it would take him 12 hours (five or take) to get there and Ed said he’d be waiting.

Ford said goodbye and hung the receiver back up on the wall with a ‘click’ and finally had a moment to take everything in. Fiddleford slowly crept into the kitchen, finding Ford leaning against the wall with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.

“Stanford?” He asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“My brother,” Ford forced the words out with some difficulty. The lump in his throat was making words hard to get out, “He— he tried to kill himself.”

Six fingers tightly gripped the edge of the counter. Fiddleford’s eyes widened and Ford realized bitterly that he wasn’t even sure if he ever told Fiddleford he had a brother.

“Stanford, I’m so sor—“

“I’m going to see him.” Ford cut him off, not wanting to hear his sympathies. He didn’t deserve it.

Fiddleford merely nodded. “Ok.” His voice trailed off as Ford pushed himself away from the wall and began pacing.

“Ed said he’s in Utah, which means it should take me around 12 hours to get there assuming I don’t stop,” he rattled off, mentally charting his course, “I’d have to stop for gas a few times, but if I keep it short, it shouldn’t put me back too much. But I...”

He continued to rattle off his thoughts, one hand behind his back as the other gripped his hair. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt Fiddleford’s hand on his shoulder.

“You can’t drive for 12 hours straight, Ford. You need to eat and sleep too.” His voice was soft, reminding Ford of their college days when Fiddleford used to remind him to nap when he’d be studying for too long.

“I can’t do that! I already failed Stanley once; I can’t keep him waiting any longer!” It was unspoken, but Ford was terrified he’d try something again.

Fiddleford’s hand squeezed, grounding Ford. “I’ll come with you, ok. We can take turns driving so you can get some sleep and we can stock up on food so we won’t have to stop.”

Ford considered his words. That would be practical, but he couldn’t ask his friend to do all of that for him.

“I dunno—“

“Stanford Pines, I think you misunderstood. That was not a suggestion. I’m not letting you drive for 12 hours in the state that you’re in. You’ll be of no use to your brother if something happens and it’s not like I have something better than helping a friend here.” Fiddleford’s words are firm and Ford knows better by now than to protest. He jerks out a nod and Fiddleford squeezes his shoulder once more before dropping his hands to his side.

“Good, now let’s pack up and hit the road.”

Twelve hours later, the pair found themselves in the lobby of the state hospital. Ford nervously fiddled with his hands as he approached the desk.

“I’m here to see Stanley Pines.”

The desk worker, a woman who looked downright bored, barely refrained from sighing as she looked through the files.

“I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name.” She reported.  

“Oh right, try Steve Pinington.” Ford said, forgetting his brother was here with a fake ID. The woman doesn’t refrain from sighing as she looked again.

“I’ll call a nurse to take you up.”

Ford nodded and Fiddleford sat in a near by chair with Ford quickly following suit. Ford anxiously fiddled with his hands as they waited for the nurse. After a moment, Fiddleford rested his hands over Ford’s.

“It’ll be ok, Ford.” He murmurs quietly. Ford isn’t so sure, but luckily doesn’t dwell on it for long as the nurse finally arrives.

She leads the pair through the hospital halls which seem more like a maze than any planned out path. Finally, they come to a stop and the nurse finally faces them.

“He’s just returning from therapy, so he’s in this room for now. Don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t recognize you at first.” She said and promptly leaves before Ford can ask what that meant. He shared a look with Fiddleford before letting himself into the room.

The room was small with only one bed in it. A form lay on the bed, prone and still. Ford’s heart caught in his throat. Even with all the years spanning between the last time he had seen his twin and now, it was odd to see him so quiet and still. It was so different than the loud, boisterous, energetic version of his brother he remembered.

Slowly, he approached the bed, eyes drinking in the sight of his brother. His hair was longer than he remembered and wasn’t slicked back anymore. A big, bushy mustache adorned his face and Ford was distantly angry that he could sort of pull it off.

“Stanley, what happened to you?” Ford whispered. A groan sounded from Stan and his eyes fluttered open. The breath in Ford’s chest stilled as he looked at Stan, not sure how he was going to react upon seeing the brother that abandoned him at his bed side.

Stan’s eyes were glazed, almost unseeing as he blinked at Ford. There was no spark of recognition, no anger, no anything. It was as if Stan wasn’t seeing anything at all.

“Stanley?” Ford asked, reaching a hand out to take his brothers hand, noticing now that he was still restrained to the bed. The tears he had been trying so hard to keep back were welling in his eyes.

“Stan, what happened to you?”

Stan’s lips parted as if he was going to respond, but no sound came out. He stared at Ford with a dull, expressionless face. The tears were spilling down Ford’s face as he threw his arms around his brothers shoulders.

“I’m so sorry, Stan.” He whispered in his twins ears, all too aware that Stan hadn’t responded to his hug. As teens, Stan had always been the one to initiate touch, whether it was a large arm slung around his shoulder, or Stan hoisting him off his feet.

Ford couldn’t help but remind himself that Stan might not even want Ford to hug him if he was aware of what was happening. Ford hadn’t even so much as bat an eye when Stan had been kicked out. In the seven years since, he hadn’t tried to contact him once, barely even spending more than a few moments to think of Stan.

He didn’t deserve to be here for Stan now but Stan needed it. He needed someone to be there for him, and his selfish brother would have to do.

Ford wasn’t going to abandon Stan again.

“Uh, Stanford,” Fiddleford’s voice hesitantly spoke up. Ford had forgotten he was there. He released Stan from the hug as he straightened up to look at Fiddleford. The mechanic held a clip board from the end of the bed in his hands and was looking at him with a look that sent chills down Ford’s spine.

“You should take a look at his chart.” Fiddleford said, holding the clipboard out to him. Ford gulps as he reluctantly takes the board.

Ford wasn’t a medical doctor by any means but the long list of medications was concerning. God, was it even necessary to have Stan on so many medications? He was practically a vegetable by this point.

As his eyes scanned down the long list of procedures and medications, Ford’s eyes froze on one word, feeling his heart still. Suddenly, Stan’s behavior made so much sense as the words ‘ECT’ glared back at him.

“Oh God,” Ford whispered. He looked up to Fiddleford who wore a silent expression on his face. Ford turned his gaze back to Stan, still restrained and staring blankly at the ceiling.

“We’re getting him out of here.” Ford said, matter of fact. He wasn’t letting his brother sit in this hospital to be ‘treated’ any more. He remembered reading papers in college about ECT; how they were a horrific treatment option at first glance, but yielded good results in many patients.

Stan obviously wasn’t one of those patients and Ford wasn’t going to abandon him again.

“F, can you please stay with Stan whilst I talk to someone about discharging him?” Now that he had a task to do, his eyes were hard in determination. Fiddleford nodded, lips tilting in a ghost of a smile knowing what that look in Ford’s eye meant all too well.

Ford wasted no time and left the room. After taking to several orderlies, he was finally directed to the person in charge of discharge. After explaining Stan’s true identity and his relation to Ford, they began the paperwork and sent someone to help with Stan.

When Ford finally arrived at Stan’s room again, he noticed that Fiddleford had taken up place beside Stan’s bed. He was quietly murmuring something to Stan as he combed his lanky fingers through Stan’s dirty hair. Ford hadn’t gotten much of a chance to see Fiddleford interact with his son seeing as Tate was in Palo Alto, but he could tell from how he was treating Stan that he was a good father.

Certainly a much better father than Filbrick had ever been.

“They’re getting the paper work settled.” Ford said. The orderly that had led him to the room brushed past Ford, now with a wheelchair in tow. Fiddleford stepped aside as the other man wordlessly started undoing the restraints on Stan’s wrists.

Fiddleford joined Ford at his side, putting a comforting hand over Ford’s shoulder.

“Little help?” The other man spoke a few moments later as he coaxed Stan to sit up. Ford darted from Fiddleford’s side to Stan’s, helping the orderly to get him to his feet.

“Wha—?” Stan groans out, turning his head slowly, as if he was moving under water.

Ford and the orderly helped Stan shuffle a couple of steps closer to the wheelchair, “We’re getting you out of here, Stanley.” Ford replied, smiling hopefully. They lowered Stan into the wheelchair and Ford could swear he saw a hint of recognition in Stan’s eyes. Whether it was because Ford was here, or because of the change of scenery, Ford wasn’t sure and frankly, didn’t care.

For so long, he’d thought Stan’s loud, brass behavior had been so annoying— dare he even say suffocating.

Now he’d give anything just to see a shred of the Stan he used to know.

Ford took the handles of the wheelchair and nodded to Fiddleford. They left the room, following the orderly as he led them to the front door. As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Stan flinched ever so slightly and squinted his eyes as he looked around slowly.

Not wanting to dwell in this place any longer, he wheeled Stan to the car as Fiddleford jogged ahead to open the door for him. He smiled thankful to notice that Fiddleford was offering up the front seat to Stan.

What he had done to deserve a friend like F, he didn’t know.

Together, the pair helped guild Stan to his shaky feet and lastly, into the car. As Fiddleford returned the wheelchair, Ford buckled Stan into place.

“St’nferd?” Stan asked, voice slurring syllables together. Ford’s head snapped up to see Stan slowly blinking at him with a confused expression.

“It’s me, Stan,” he said, relieved that his brother recognized him, “I’m here. We’re getting you out of here, ok?”

There was a pregnant pause before Stan jerked out a nod, resting his head back against the head rest.

Fiddleford has returned by this point and climbed to the back seat. Ford quietly shut Stan’s door and hurried to the drivers side, eager to get far away from the hospital.

Stan had fallen asleep shortly after the drive started. Fiddleford had also nodded off at some point, leaving Ford by himself at the wheel.

His brain was spinning a mile a minute, trying to figure out the next course of action. They’d have to clear out some space for Stan to sleep in. He also supposed he’d have to figure how to get Stan’s car back at some point. What was trickier was figuring out how to help Stan.

He wasn’t a fool to think that simply being there for Stan now and offering him a place to stay was going to fix all of his problems. Ford was terrified of the idea that Stan would try anything again. He owed it to Stan to do things right by him.

He doubted that Stan would consider talking to a professional, and like hell he was going to let Stan be admitted to another hospital. Maybe he could find someplace reliable to get Stan some medication that wouldn’t make him catatonic.

A groan from beside him broke the silence in the car. Ford’s gaze briefly flickered to Stan before darting back to the road.

“How’re you feeling, Stan?” Ford asked softly, occasionally darting his eyes to Stan.

There was still a glazed look in his eyes, but rather than looking like he wasn’t seeing anything, he looked like he was waking up from a deep sleep.

“Uh, I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan groans, adjusting in his seat sluggishly. His voice is still somewhat slurred, but it’s infinitely better than he was before.

“I imagine you’ll feel like that for a bit longer until all the drugs in your system wears off.” Ford said. His voice drops timidly as he continues, “Stan, I— I don’t know where to even start. I’m just— I don’t— I’m sorry.”

Stan’s looked at him, a tired look of surprise on his face, and Ford couldn’t help but smile softly. “Ok, ok, maybe now’s not the best time for this.”

Stan blinks slowly, “Where are we?”

Oh, right. “We’re in my car. My friend and I came to get you when we caught news that you were here. We’re on our way back to my home in Oregon; there’s about nine hours left in our trip.” Ford briefly wondered if there was any more relevant information to add but decided to wait until Stan was a bit more alert.

Stan looked back towards the road, not saying anything. Ford reached a hand over, covering Stan’s hand in his. As he glanced over, worried if it was ok, he saw a ghost of a smile on Stan’s lips as he closed his eyes, drifting back asleep.

Hours later, Fiddleford pulls down the winding drive way leading to their house. He had switched seats with Ford at some time during the trip, and Ford has fallen asleep promptly afterwards. Luckily, Stan stayed asleep for the rest of the line.

As Fiddleford saw the house coming into view, he reached a hand back, tapping Ford’s knees. From the mirror, he saw Ford’s eyes blink open.

“We’re home,” Fiddleford reported with a smile.

The car rolled to a stop near the porch. The sound of seat belts unclicking and doors opening woke Stan up, who looked around at his new surroundings with confusion.

Ford was at his door in a moment, a timid smile on his face.

“Welcome Home, Stanley.”

Stan’s eyebrows were bunched in confusion. He certainly seemed more aware now then previously seeing as the drugs had at least 12 hours to work its way out of his system.

Ford offered him a hand, “Let’s go inside. We can get you something to eat, and i can explain any questions you have.”

Stan lifted a hand, hanging it in between the two of them for a moment, hesitating before taking Ford’s hand. Getting to his feet still took effort, but whether it was because of the effects of the drugs, or from being crammed in a car for 12 hours was unclear.

Slowly, the twins made their way through the lawn to the porch. Ford paused to unlock the door before throwing it open for them. He led Stan to the kitchen, helping him sit down in the chair.

“What can I get you to eat?” Ford asks.

Stan merely shrugs.

“It’s been at least 12 hours since you’ve eaten anything; you gotta eat something.” Ford says.

Stan doesn’t look up from his hands resting on the table. Ford continues, to babble on about food, starting to fidget his hands.

“I don’t want food, Ford.” Stan cuts him off, sounding exasperated. Ford doesn’t seem to notice apart from getting more fidgety.

“But you have to—“

“I want answers, Stanford,” Stan finally bites out. His hands are clenched tight into fists. Ford falls still, looking at his twin with an owlish expression, “You bring me here, acting like nothing ever happened between us, doting on me like I’m an invalid. I just don’t— I don’t get it!”

Ford sighed and sits down across from Stan heavily.

“You kinda were,” Ford replied in a whisper, “You didn’t see how you looked, Stan. It was terrifying to see you like that. You weren’t... you.”

Stan crosses his arms over his chest, “How would you know if I wasn’t acting like me, huh? It’s been seven years, Ford. You didn’t give a shit about me in any of that time until now.”

Ford winced. He had a point. Wringing his hands, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment. “I was wrong.”

Stan’s jaw dropped, looking at him with a look of shock as if he never expected Ford to admit he was wrong. Ford continued.

“I was so wrong, Stan. About a lot of things. I shouldn’t have stood aside and let Pops kick you out. I should have heard you out, or tried to find you, but I was so angry, stupidly so, that I convinced myself that you were ok. I—“ Ford broke off, covering his face with his hands, “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if you had—“ his voice trailed off, not able to finish that sentence.

Stan’s demeanor changed completely as Ford broke down in tears. “Woah, woah, relax, Sixer.” Stan replied. He pushed himself to his feet, kneeling beside Ford’s chair as he put a hand on his brothers shoulder. Ford peaked out from behind twelve fingers, eyes wet with tears.

“You called me Sixer.” He whispers pitifully, earning a chuckle from Stan.

“Uh, yeah.”

Ford frowns, “What happened to us? How did one stupid fight ruin how close we used to be?”

Stan was silent, having wondered that question many times himself over the years. Ford reached out, gripping Stan’s hand on his shoulder with a desperate grip.

“Stan, I’m sorry. I know I messed up so much in the past, but please let me be there for you now. I don’t want to lose my brother again.”

Stan sighed, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “You don’t want that, Sixer. You’ll just get tired of me eventually; you just feel sorry for me now.”

Ford shook his head, “No, Stan, I swear I won’t, but, uh, if you really think that way, why don’t we at least take it one day at a time, ok? Just give me a chance to make it up to you. I want us to be brothers again.”

It was Stan’s turn for his eyes to well up with tears. He pointedly looked away from Ford, biting his bottom lip. Ford rested his hand on Stan’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

After a moment, Stan looks back to Ford, soft smile on his lips, “I’ve missed you, Sixer.”

“I’ve missed you too, ya knucklehead.”

“Just, uh, just ‘cause we’re having a moment here, your project really was a mistake. I would never intentionally ruin something I know was so important to you.”

Ford smiled softly, “I know that now, Stan. I should have realized that back then.”

Stan’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief. He and Ford share a moment as they look at each other, hopeful expressions on their faces.

Finally, Ford gets to his feet, helping Stan up with him.

Once they were standing, Stan wraps his arms around Ford, pulling him into a tight hug. Ford didn’t hesitate as he flung his arms around his twin, glad to finally feel his twins arms around him once again, to confirm that Stan really was here and was ok.

They linger in a hug, until they at last reluctantly pull away.

“Now,” Ford says as he makes Stan sit back down, “You really should eat something. How does some soup sound?”

Stan opens his mouth but is promptly cut off by a loud rumble from his stomach. There is a moment of silence before the brothers both start giggling together.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ford laughs, pulling a can of soup from the cabinet. Stan’s laughter bubbles back down to quiet chuckles.

Fiddleford eventually joins them, sitting across the table from Stan with a warm smile. For the first time in years, he feels lighter, hopeful even. His future was still uncertain, but it was a hell of a good place to start.

With his brother by his side, they were capable of taking on anything the world could throw at them.

[selstonbloggergw]

Heathers AU!

It's never a “good morning.” At Voltron high. Like any other school you have your set groups, all picked out for you before anyone has a chance to actually think it over. Voltron High was no different...yet. A young boy named Lance Sawyer was standing in front of his blue, chipped locker in the usual dingy corridor he'd become familiar with. A shabby and torn book between his hands. Now Lance didn't really fit in...anywhere. Not even the nerds would take him. His usual outfit was a loose fitting denim jacket with a colourful scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. Ripped and worn jeans seemed to contrast his floral shirt. “September 1st 1989. Dear diary…” Oh yeah, he also kept a diary. And one would wonder why this poor kid has no friends. “I believe I'm a good person! You know I think there's good in everyone, but here we are, first day of senior year and I look around at these kids that I thought I'd known and I ask...what happ-” Lance was rudely pushed out of his own time and hit his head straight into the locker door. Looking behind him, a group of “popular” kids ran off, yelling things along the lines of “freak, slut, burnout, bug eyes, poser and lard ass.” Y’know all of them classics. Only 1 of them even applied to Lance so it baffled him to think they'd use such textbook insults. It wasn't hard to insult him they just weren't trying hard enough. Lance turns back to his book with a sigh. He picks it up and writes while making his way down the corridor. “We were so tiny. We all seemed happy and shiny. Playing things like tag and chasing each other around. There weren't any groups back then. All we did was sing, clap and bake cookies...Hunk used to like baking. For some reason getting bigger was the trigger but I just have to hold my breath. At least we're graduating soon!” As Lance finished his sentence a jock slumped him particularly hard in the shoulder before turning around and yelling “WHITE TRASH!” Rubbing his shoulder Lance grimaced and turned back to his book muttering “I'm not even white…” “College seems like a paradise but I'll be lucky if im not dead by June. I know life can be ‘beautiful’ and all I can do is pray for a better way. We changed once, maybe we can change again…?” He looked up from his book when he heard a thud from the other side of the hall. A hipster looking boy had just been shoved to the floor by some much larger boys who were now high fiving each other. Looking from his book to the scene he rubbed his eye before murmuring out a faint “Just not today.” He knew how this would play out but he did it anyway. Extending a hand to the boy on the floor, Lance smiled and nodded. Immediately he was met with a glare. And a shove. Sighing for the 50th time that morning he simply made his way to the canteen. While on the way he continued his writing. “Once I get my diploma I can blow this town. I'm currently fighting a strong urge to strike a match and set this dump a blaze.” By the time He'd written all of his thoughts down he'd already made it to the creepy old canteen. A green tray that was digging into his side was jerked away quickly as the kid behind him had their food slammed to the floor. The jock in question threw his hands to his face before laughing out “Oops!” Another part of Lance’s diary was the “character analysis” part. All his recognisable classmates had a page. Under the boy who was laughing at the kid trying to pick up their lunch it wrote “Zarkon Sweeney: Third year as linebacker, eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!” No change it seems… In among all the commotion Lance seemed to accidentally catch Zarkons eye. With all the grace of a cat in a bathtub, Zarkon marched over and poked at his shoulders. “What was that skank?! You got something to say?”

Lance swayed slightly before averting his eyes around hurriedly as if searching for some sort of escape, a magic door to take him away. “Haha no! I didn't say anything! I don't even know how to English speak!” Was all he could say in his hurry. It was obvious by his tut that Zarkon didn't buy it, who would? But he didn't continue and turned back to his group of jocks. Ugh, how Lance hated them all. While trying to regain a small amount of composure a tap came to his shoulder again. He turned himself around and was fully prepared to fight for his lunch money, only to be greeted by the biggest smile he'd ever seen, a smile that could instantly make him happy. “Hey Shay” “Hey!” Shay seems to look behind him, as if debating whether to help the kid with his lunch all over the floor. She wanted to, Lance knew she wanted to. But bless her massive heart, she was too scared of rejection. Quickly, Lance licks his finger and flicks through to one of his first diary entries. “Shay Dunnstock, my best friend since diapers! She's got a huge heart, but around here, that's not nearly enough.” Clutching the diary to his chest, Lance smiled happily. Shay was Lance’s beacon of hope. She had stayed unchanged from these years in hell. Shay seemed to look at the book and smile before looking Lance back in the face. “We still on for movie night?” Shoving his book into a tattered little satchel that Lance tried to pass as a bag, he moved along the lunch line and grabbed an apple. “Yeah, you're on Jiffy pop detail.” Shay shuffled along behind the barrier for the lunch line. “And I rented the princess bride!” She said happily, hands coming together so she could rest her hands on them. Turning around to look at her for a few seconds before turning back to the lunch lady and dropping his money into her hands, Lance sighed. “Again? Don't you have it memorized by now?” Which wasn't even an exaggeration, Lance hears her mumble the words when watching. She rubs her neck before holding onto Lance’s arm as they walked back to the table. “What can I say? I'm a sucker for happy endings!” They were about to sit at the table in the back of the room. No one ever sat there because of the location...right next to the bin. Before they could sit down and enjoy their “lunch”, a tall man came up behind them quickly. “Shay Dumptruck! Wide load! HOOONK!” Is all the warning they get before Shay’s lunch tray is flying through the air, her food scattering over the floor and in her hair. Furious, Lance swivelled around to see whoever was pathetic enough to do such a thing. He should of guessed really. Lance had his diary page memorised, he was rather proud of it. “Sendak Kelly, quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team...it's kind of like being the tallest dwarf!”

Lance wants to punch him, he really does...but that won't help Shay right now. Instead he turns around again, putting a hand on Shay's back before slowly picking a few bits of food out of her hair. “Honk honk!” Sendak yells before high fiving Zarkon, who seemed to be lurking behind and laughing at the show. Lance was almost certain you could see the vein on his forehead at this point. “Pick that up right now!” He yells, moving from his place behind Shay to come face to face with Sendak. Well, more face to pecks than anything else. The two boys seem to share a look before turning back to Lance. “I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?” Sendak hissed before moving closer to Lance, trying to loom over him. Somehow without Lance noticing, Zarkon had gone behind him. “My buddy Sendak just asked you a question.” He whispered into Lance’s ear before pushing him forward, chest meeting Sendak waiting fist half way. The wind was momentarily taken out of him but Lance stood straight back up. He was done, done with laying around and letting it pass.

He hobbles over to stand defensively in front of Shay. Standing up as straight as possible through the pain, Lance looks directly into Sendak’s eyes. “Yeah, I am! I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You're a high school has been waiting to happen. A future gas station attendant, and even then you'll be lucky if they accept you!” Zarkon and Sendak share a glance before they lean in, arching their backs to tower over Lance. Cowering back, Lance makes sure he's in front of Shay. He wouldn't let them hurt her. Zarkon raises his first and Lance braces for the shap pain. When that pain doesn't come, he poems one eye and is met with an evil, sickening even, grin. “You've got a zit right there!” They both yell out before pushing Lance back so he staggers, falling backwards onto the bench of his table. “Oh my goodness are you ok?” Shay asks, fussing over Lance's sprawled out figure. He grunts before pulling himself up. Their little show had attracted a great deal of attention but people were still trying to hide their obvious interest. “Someone stood up to them?” “Wow! I could never do that.” “Why do we hate him?” “Why does he act like such a freak?” “Why did they hit him?” “I bet he cries himself to sleep.” He knew they were directed at him, knew he probably wouldn't stop getting whispers as he walked by. He was used to it by now, which is kinda sad… Batting away Shay’s fussing hands, he hauls himself up and drags Shay into the nearest corridor, away from all the gossip and voices. Lance may be able to deal with it but Shay was still too fragile for all this. “I'm gonna hit the restroom before next period, don't wait up! If worst comes to worst I'll forge some sort of note.” He said, patting Shay’s shoulder lightly. She looked up at him with big eyes and nodded before slowly turning to head to the next class. Sighing, Lance scurried off. He was ruffling a hand through his hair on his way into the boy's toilets when he heard it. “Ugh, grow up Pidge! Bulimia’s so ‘87.” The hand that had rested in his hair now seemed to absently pull itself down his face. Lance could just not be bothered with this right now.

He walked in and looked behind him quickly. ‘Huh, could've sworn I heard angelic music…’ Pushing it aside he looked on to the voice he'd just heard and what do you know! Standing there in all her bitchyness was Nyma Chandler. Powdering her plastic face while gazing into the mirror. She was decked out in her usual outfit. A red blazer buckled over a white shirt. She had pulled her pleated and checked skirt up further than necessary to show of her thighs. Speaking of thighs, she also wore thigh high socks with red and white diamonds on them. “Nyma’s right, maybe you should see a doctor Pidge…” The soft voice came from a rather large boy standing awkwardly at Nyma’s side. Hunk McNarma, wearing the same blazer as Nyma but in a vibrant yellow. He wore designer jeans that complimented his shoes that had been specially imported from England. As Lance finally brings himself to turn the corner, he's met with a croaky voice from the end stall. “Yeah Hunk, maybe I should.” He should've known that wolves always hunt in packs. Pidge Duke was currently hacking up her guts into one of the private stalls to the left of Nyma. Lance couldn't see her but he assumed she was wearing nearly all the same as Nyma, expect green. Seriously, they looked like a perfect Eurovision entry. Sighing, Lance hobbled over to the cubicle furthest away from the group and was on the verge of relieving himself when the door shot open again, revealing Ms. Flemming, or Allura as she tried to get the students to call her. Lance hastily shoved himself back into his boxers before the teacher caught a glimpse. Did nobody respect signs these days?! “Ah, Hunk, Nyma and-” Pidge vomited in the background… “Pidge...Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting but you're all late for class. And Nyma, what are you doing in the boys toilets?”

Nyma looked away from the mirror to glare at Ms.Flemming for a second. “Oh please. The boys toilets are much nicer, and I wasn't about to bring a boy into the girls toilets. No, that'd be weird.” Everyone in that room new exactly what she was actually in the boys toilets for and it momentarily grossed Lance out. “And anyway, Pidge wasn't feeling well so we're helping her.” Ms.Flemming seemed to glare at her spread out makeup assortment for a few seconds before turning back with a sigh. “Not without a hall pass you aren't, weeks detention to all of you.” She spun round to stare at Lance who was vaguely glad he'd tucked himself back in. He scuttled over to the taps. Hastily he pulled some blue paper out of his trouser pockets before scribbling onto it as quickly as he could. Lance was fully prepared for this turn of events, minus the plastic fuck cases currently staring at his back. But...maybe, just maybe, this was Lances chance? His opportunity to force himself through the thick layer of fake separating him from the Chandlers? Even in his own mindscape Lance hates referring to them as the Chandlers. Pidge and Hunk had been stripped of their names and made into Nymas puppets. Thinking about it though, was that really that bad? Sure all sense of decency is gone but it comes with status, respect and exclusive privileges. It was a split second decision. Wiping his hands down, Lance pulled out 3 more pieces of paper and quickly scribbled on them. “Sorry, but no hall pass no-” “Actually Ms Flemming!” Lance began with thrusting the paper towards her. “All four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee.” Was all he said, giving a cheesy lopsided smile in her general direction. She skimmed over the letters a few times, only stopping to skeptically look at Lance from under her glasses. “Well...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going.” She spoke quickly before shoving the paper absently to Nyma. After gathering in the doorway to make sure the teacher had left, Nyma finally looked down at the now crumpled paper in her hands. “This is an excellent forgery-” she threw out her arm and pushed the paper into Hunks chest. “Who are you?” Palms sweating, he looked straight into her eyes. “My name’s Lance Sawyer, I crave a boon.”

------

Part 1 done!!

Hope its ok! ^^

[breeeliss]

belated birthday present

@larvesta i know im a little late with this bc im a piece of shit but i appreciate you so much as a friend, an artist, and a content creator for this fandom that i had to whip up something for you really quick, even if it’s not much. i hope you had a wonderful birthday and thank you for being so beautiful and special :)

happy birthday olivia <3

words: 1864

“I want to marry you.”

She said it at 11:37pm, cheek pressed against the kitchen table, eyeliner smudged after a 14 hour work day, and voice slurred from the sleep she’d been without for close to three days. Alya had driven out to her office, coaxed her away from her designs, and laid her out on the back seat of her car, blanketing her with her jacket before driving back to their apartment. The dozen or so other times they’d done this, Alya would always brew her fresh tea over the stove -- with actual tea leaves, not store bought bags -- to help her sleep, only to find her snoring across the couch or at the kitchen table before it was even ready. 

Alya was ready to keep the tea warm for herself and carry Marinette back to their bedroom, but Marinette muttered tiredly from her seat at the kitchen table and made Alya stare into the pot of tea, afraid to look behind her. 

“...what was that babe?”

Marinette yawned in response and said nothing for a long minute, convincing Alya that it was just something silly mumbled from half-sleep, or something that Alya had misheard. But Marinette merely repeated what she’d said -- stronger this time, as if its repetition was enough to keep her awake past what her body demanded. “I want to marry you.”

Alya swallowed and picked a mug from the cabinet above her. “I don’t understand.”

“You know, weddings,” Marinette explained. “Both of us in white dresses. A room full of relatives we haven’t seen since we were in diapers. Chocolate cake. In a hall or a garden, because I know you don’t like churches. Everything purple and pink.”

There was trepidation making her chest feel tight, but Alya still had enough in her to laugh. “That’s pretty thought out. Not surprising, considering it’s you.”

“I think about it a lot,” Marinette admitted quietly, her nails scratching at one of the cracks in the wood table. “I was thinking about it today. I just wanted you to know.”

Alya poured the tea from the pot into a mug and turned around to see Marinette gazing at her -- eyes tired but focused. She pulled out the chair right next to Marinette and offered her the mug of tea, which Marinette refused. “Do you....” Alya cleared her throat, took a large gulp of tea, and winced when she burned her tongue. “Do you want to do this now?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s a clear answer.”

“I’m running on caffeine, fumes, and the grace of God, right now. I don’t have the energy to be eloquent.”

Alya knew that Marinette was picking up on her attempts to dodge a clear answer to her statement, but for some reason was deciding not to draw attention to that bit. Instead, she was staying quiet, watching the steam float up from the rim of Alya’s cup, and waiting for her to say something that wasn’t just a hurried attemptsat deflecting. Marinette overanalyzed where it didn’t matter and jumped on impulse where it did. It was only with Alya that she achieved a masterful balance of when to push and when to let the conversation go slack. It made Alya guiltily scramble for some pithy explanation, despite the fact that Marinette would likely let her go without giving one. 

“I didn’t expect you to ever say something like that,” Alya admitted. “At least not this soon.”

Marinette frowned and walked her fingers across the table until her hand was braced gently around Alya’s wrist. “It’s not that soon, is it?”

“We’ve only been dating for five months.”

“But we’ve known each other for five years.”

“We were friends for most of those five years.”

“So?”

Alya sighed out through her nose and bit on her thumb nail. “I’m trying to think of how to explain this...”

Marinette sucked on her bottom lip and started to pull her hand away. “You don’t have to say yes or no. I wasn’t expecting you to.”

She scrambled for Marinette’s hand before it slipped back into her lap, gripping around her four fingers and rubbing her thumb along her bony knuckles. “You deserve a yes or a no,” Alya told her. “And...it’s not like I’m debating between saying yes or saying no.”

“You look like you’re debating something.”

“I am. But it’s not what you think.”

Marinette pulled their intertwined hands closer and pressed a kiss to the nail of Alya’s thumb while she waited. Her eyes were slow to meet her own, but when they did Alya squeezed her hand back tighter. Marinette looked at Alya like there were diamonds in her lashes and words written in her eyes. She was always marveling at something, always trying to find something, and always being enchanted by everything she saw. That’s how Marinette had been looking at her since the day they met, and it was that look that always made Alya’s heart stutter and feel as though it was getting its fill of something too rich to be true. 

“Did I ever tell you when I knew I was in love with you?” Marinette shook her head. “It was like a switch. It happened right away, and it was like all these shadowy, blurred things sharpened all at the same time, and I just sat there in front of you feeling like I was seeing you for the first time. It was just short of a year after we met -- when I failed my history exam and stayed home to mope, and you crawled into my bed and held me for hours until you had to go home the next day. Right there in your arms. It hit me.”

“We’ve slept in the same bed plenty of times before that,” Marinette wondered. 

“I can’t explain it,” Alya shrugged. “I can just tell you when it appeared. Quick, sudden, and heavy.”

“Heavy?”

Alya snorted. “You know when you fall in love with enough straight girls, you start getting used to the fact that your feelings are always stronger, bigger, and more cumbersome than theirs? I thought the same with you for a really long time. And maybe that was my fault for not telling you the truth sooner, but it always just seemed like I had this huge, awkward thing to carry around that would always be two steps ahead of what you felt for me.”

“What are you saying?”

Alya laid her head down next to Marinette’s until their foreheads were almost touching. “I thought that for close to five years. So I guess...it’s an old habit that’s hard to break.”

Marinette’s other hand came up to brush away the hair from Alya’s temple. “You think I’m not serious...”

“No, it’s not that,” Alya promised. “I don’t think you’re lying or playing a game. I just get surprised when you say things like that. It still feels like I’m two steps ahead of you, so it doesn’t feel real. Like sometimes I’ll see you standing in the kitchen making us breakfast or I’ll wake up to you sleeping right next to me....and I can’t conceive of how I got here.”

Marinette licked her lips and ghosted the tips of her fingers along Alya’s hairline. “So when I say things like ‘marry me’....”

“I think this can’t possibly be real.”

Words were the sort of thing you needed the ability to say and the courage to mean. Otherwise they turned into muted secrets or empty placeholders. It was never a question of whether Marinette was sincere or whether Alya had the ability to say what she felt. It was always a question of whether Alya could bear being comfortable with one feeling more of less intensely than the other -- whether that sort of imbalance was natural or something Alya should continue to feel wary of. She wasn’t sure if all of that was vocalized in the little that Alya told Marinette, and she suddenly felt silly for having such a poor reaction. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t be doing this when you’re so tired.”

They stayed still for so long that Alya feared this was the awkward end to the conversation she wasn’t prepared for them to have. Marinette’s gaze hadn’t faltered at all during that time, and Alya wasn’t sure if that was due to exhaustion or due to some poor reaction to what Alya had shared. She got her answer when Marinette kissed her -- slow, lazy, and too quick for Alya to melt into and enjoy. 

“I hear you,” Marinette muttered against her lips. “And I respond to that by saying...I still want to marry you.”

Her lips were leaving small pecks on Alya’s eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin, and lips again. “New storefront has me strapped for cash, so I can’t afford a ring or dresses or a hall right now. But give me a couple of years when everything will be smoothed out, and when my savings will be more than just a long line of zeroes. I’ll want to marry you. I’m going to marry you.”

Alya laughed and felt one hand pulling loose the tight bun on the back of Marinette’s head. “I believe you,” she decided. And she did. Deep down, in her heart of hearts that was so hard to blindly listen to, she believed every word of it. 

“Listen,” Marinette explained. “I don’t know if I can fix the feeling that things are uneven between us aside from telling you that it doesn’t matter who felt what first or who feels one way and not the other. I just need you to know one thing. I love you down to my bones -- like you’re too much a part of me to just rip out. I can tell you it’s deep, it’s honest, it’s wonderful, and it keeps my head high and my heart bursting. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

Alya let out a shaky sigh of relief and pressed a kiss to the middle of Marinette’s forehead. “I love you too,” she whispered. “Down to my bones. It’s the one thing I know how to do without thinking.”

Marinette grinned. “I know things like marriage and weddings are really far away, but I needed to tell you how I feel. And you don’t have to feel the same way right now. I’ll wait. Waiting with you would be a beautiful thing.”

“You won’t have to wait long,” Alya said, a promise and a desire already brewing that she knew wouldn’t need much to flourish. “I know you won’t.”

Marinette’s thumbs were brushing her cheekbones when they kissed again. “I get what you mean,” she said. “When you said that it feels like this isn’t real sometimes. I feel the same way. Like something this nice is just meant to slip through your fingers one day.”

Alya tightened her grip on Marinette’s hand -- tight enough to feel a steady, strong pulse beat in between their hands. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “I couldn’t dream of it.”

[viralhottopics]

Stephen King on Donald Trump: How do such men rise? First as a joke

Hes written novels with eerily similar plotlines but how did Trump become president? The only way to find out: inject a panel of fictional voters with truth serum…

I started thinking Donald Trump might win the presidency in September of 2016. By the end of October, I was almost sure. Thus, when the election night upset happened, I was dismayed, but not particularly surprised. I didnt even think it was much of an upset, in spite of the Huffington Post aggregate poll, which gave Hillary Clinton a 98% chance of winning an example of wishful thinking if ever there were one.

Some of my belief arose from the signage I was seeing. Im from northern New England, and in the run-up to the election I saw hundreds of Trump-Pence signs and bumper stickers, but almost none for Clinton-Kaine. To me this didnt mean there were no Clinton supporters in the houses I passed or the cars ahead of me on Route 302; what it did seem to mean was that the Clinton supporters werent particularly invested. This was not the case with the Trump people, who tended to have billboard-sized signage in their yards and sometimes two stickers on their cars (TRUMP-PENCE on the left; HILLARY IS A CRIMINAL on the right).

Brexit also troubled me. Most of the commentators brushed its importance aside, saying that the issue of whether or not Britain should leave the EU was very different from that of who should become the American president, and besides, British and American voters were very different animals. I agreed with neither assessment, because there was a vibe in the air during most of 2016, a feeling that people were both frightened of the status quo and sick of it. Voters saw a vast and overloaded apple cart lumbering past them. They wanted to upset the motherfucker, and would worry about picking up those spilled apples later. Or just leave them to rot.

Clinton voters were convinced shed win, even if they saw her as a ho-hum candidate at best. Many did not even bother going to the polls, which was a large (and largely unstated) factor in her loss. Trump voters, on the other hand, could not wait to pull those levers. They didnt just want change; they wanted a man on horseback. Trump filled the bill.

I had written about such men before. In The Dead Zone, Greg Stillson is a door-to-door Bible salesman with a gift of gab, a ready wit and the common touch. He is laughed at when he runs for mayor in his small New England town, but he wins. He is laughed at when he runs for the House of Representatives (part of his platform is a promise to rocket Americas trash into outer space), but he wins again. When Johnny Smith, the novels precognitive hero, shakes his hand, he realizes that some day Stillson is going to laugh and joke his way into the White House, where he will start world war three.

Big Jim Rennie in Under The Dome is cut from the same cloth. Hes a car salesman (selling being a key requirement for the successful politician), who is the head selectman in the small town of Chesters Mill, when a dome comes down and cuts the community off from the world. Hes a crook, a cozener and a sociopath, the worst possible choice in a time of crisis, but hes got a folksy, straight-from-the-shoulder delivery that people relate to. The fact that hes incompetent at best and downright malevolent at worst doesnt matter.

Both these stories were written years ago, but Stillson and Rennie bear enough of a resemblance to the current resident of the White House for me to flatter myself I have a country-fair understanding of how such men rise: first as a joke, then as a viable alternative to the status quo, and finally as elected officials who are headstrong, self-centered and inexperienced. Such men do not succeed to high office often, but when they do, the times are always troubled, the candidates in question charismatic, their proposed solutions to complex problems simple, straightforward and impractical. The baggage that should weigh these hucksters down becomes magically light, lifting them over the competition like Carl Fredricksen in the Pixar film Up. Trumps negatives didnt drag him down; on the contrary, they helped get him elected.

I decided to convene six Trump voters to discover how and why all this happened. Because I selected them from the scores of make-believe people always bouncing around in my head (sometimes their chatter is enough to drive me bugshit), I felt perfectly OK feeding them powerful truth serum before officially convening the round table. And because they are fictional my creatures they all agreed to this. They gulped the serum down in Snapple iced tea, and half an hour later we began. My panelists were:

Gary Barker, a construction worker from how fitting Gary, Indiana. Gary from Gary is 41, married with two kids, currently unemployed. Graduated high school, never went to college.

William Russell, from Delray Beach, Florida. William spent his working life as a banker in Albany, New York, and is now retired and living in a gated community. Hes 67, a good amateur golfer, physically fit and mentally sharp. Has been married for more than 40 years, with three grown children and six grandchildren. Holds a bachelors degree from New York University and a graduate degree (in accounting) from the University of Illinois, Chicago.

Felicia Gagnon, from Castle Rock, Maine. Felicia is 25 and the sole employee of the Castle Rock Washateria, where she washes, dries, folds and sometimes delivers. She also serves as the janitor. She is unmarried, no children. Graduated high school, never went to college.

David Allen is a roadie-for-hire in Nashville, almost always employed. Last year he toured with both Little Big Town and Trisha Yearwood. He is 29, divorced, with one child. He makes his support payments regularly. Graduated high school, has two years of college (no degree).

Andrea Sparks is a successful restaurant owner in Flint City, Oklahoma. She is 42, twice divorced, with three children. She has a degree in business administration from the University of Oklahoma. Next year she will be president of the Flint City Chamber of Commerce.

Helen Wiggins is a single mother who lives in McKeesport, Pennsylvania, and works as a nail technician (she prefers this to manicurist). She is 28 years old. Graduated high school, no college.

Although they come from varying walks of life and have attained varying degrees of education, none of these participants was stupid, venal or evil. The reader would do well to remember that they were loaded with potent truth serum, which forced them to say what they actually believe, rather than what they thought might be most palatable to their interlocutor. If you, gentle reader, should be inclined to view any of them with contempt or feel outraged about their comments, youd do well first to look inward and ask what you might say if compelled to give the truth of your feelings, the whole truth, the absolute truth, and nothing but the truth. And, with that caveat, the discussion.

Stephen King Thank you all for coming, and agreeing to participate.

Helen Wiggins You could use a manicure. Your nails are too long. But at least it doesnt look as if you chew them.

William Russell I started one of your books but didnt finish it. Ill never try another one. Youre an awful writer.

King Many critics would agree, but todays subject is politics rather than fiction. To begin, Id like to go around the table and ask each of you when you decided you were going to vote for Donald Trump.

Gary Barker After a couple of debates I knew who I was going for. He [Trump] had nicknames for the other guys that really put them in their places. Lyin Ted, for instance. I hated that guy. He always looked like he wanted to yell, Come to Jesus! And Little Marco. That was my favorite. He [Trump] nailed that sucker. He [Rubio] looked like he was about 13 fuckin years old.

Wiggins Dont forget Crooked Hillary. That was the cutest nickname.

David Allen Right. When they all started yelling, Lock her up! at the convention. I knew then it was going to be a whole new ballgame, and I decided to vote for Trump. But I didnt shoot my mouth off about it. Nashville is in the south, but in the music business there are plenty of bleeding hearts. Not like Hollywood, thank God, but you still have to be careful. I started off saying I hadnt made up my mind when people asked me, then I started saying, Probably Clinton. I never told anyone I was going to vote for Trump. Especially not my ex. She would have torn my balls off.

Russell Trumps a businessman who understands business. Hes going to make them sit on the minimum wage, and hell take off a lot of those stupid banking, business and pollution regulations. Its working already. Just look at the stock market.

Felicia Gagnon Most of my customers at the Washateria were for him, so I decided I was, too. It wasnt just going along with the crowd, either. He always had an answer for everything, and he took no shit. Also, he wants to keep the illegals out. My job isnt much, but it pays the rent. What if some illegal comes along and tells Mr Griffin hes the owner that shell do my job for half the salary? Would that be fair?

Andrea Sparks It wouldnt, it absolutely wouldnt. And I admired him for a comeback he made to Clinton in, I think it was their first debate. She said he paid no taxes, and Trump came right back, said: That makes me smart. I knew right then I was going to vote for him, because taxes are killers. Thats why no one from the middle class can really get ahead. They tax you to death. I am making a little bit of money, but Id be making a lot more if they didnt tax me so badly, and why do they do it? To pay welfare for the illegals Felicia was talking about. The beaners, the darkies and the camel-jockeys. I would never say that if I wasnt full of this truth serum stuff, but Im glad I did. Its a relief. I dont want to be a racist, its not how I was raised, but they make you be one. I work hard for what Ive got, from nine in the morning until midnight, sometimes until one in the morning. And what happens? The government takes the sweat from my brow and gives it to the foreigners. Who shoot it into their arms with dope the drug mules bring up from Mexico.

Barker Amen to that, sister.

Wiggins You know, I was torn at first, but when he hired that guy Pence to be his vice-president, I got on board. He [Pence] was so smart at the debate he had with that other guy. He had an answer for everything.

Gagnon Also handsome, with that nice white hair.

Wiggins Yes, he takes care of himself. Nice haircut, good teeth, beautiful skin. I thought to myself, Trump is on the fat side. If he has a heart attack and dies, Pence can take over. And the guy who ran with Clinton, I cant even remember his name, but he looked like one of those guys at the DMV who, when you finally get to the front of the line, says you filled out the paperwork wrong and sends you home.

[General laughter from the panel.]

Russell Also, theres the matter of the trademark slogans. Do you know what Im talking about?

King Tell me.

Russell Candidates have certain codified positions, which form the basis of the so-called stump speech. In that speech, which is about the same whether its made in Portland, Maine or Portland, Oregon, they make their basic talking points over and over. But they also need a simple summation of what they stand for. Thats conveyed by the trademark slogan, something simple and catchy. Trumps was MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, and it was perfect. Contains two words of great power: America and great. Clintons was STRONGER TOGETHER. Vague. Wishy-washy. Forgettable. Stronger than what? Together with whom? It says nothing. The person who thought that up was an idiot, and she was an idiot for using it. Her slogan might as well have been WERE GOING TO DO SOME STUFF.

Sparks Trump was the boss. Clinton was just bossy, and take it from me, nobody likes a bossy woman. As a business person, I have to use a certain amount of tact. She didnt have that.

Allen When she spoke, she kind of brayed.

Gagnon Because she was trying to sound like a man. That may work in New York, but not out where there are real people.

Sparks Whatever, it was like fingernails on a blackboard. If I talked to my waitstaff like that, half of them would quit.

King OK, since were on the subject of Clinton, I want to go around the table and have you give me one word or one short phrase that describes your impression of her. Gary, you havent had much to say, so lets start with you.

Barker Before we get to that, I just want to say that Ive always been attracted to young men on surfboards. This truth serum is whoo.

King Good to know, and thank you for sharing, but how about a word or simple phrase describing your impression of

Barker Bitch. I thought she was a bitch.

King OK. Felicia?

Gagnon Stuck-up. A stuck-up smartypants. She talked down to people.

King William?

Russell Felicias exactly right. Clinton projected arrogance and a sense of entitlement. Riding on Slick Willies coat-tails.

Allen I hated those pantsuits. Like she doesnt think people can figure out shes got a booty. And shes starting to look really old.

Wiggins Is she a lesbian? I heard she was a lesbian.

Sparks I dont care about that, but her bestie was one of those Muslims. You know, the one married to the guy always showing his junk on the internet. Huma Abba-Jabba, or something.

King Id like to discuss two issues that dogged Hillary Clintons campaign

Sparks Can I just say I ate a whole box of chocolate pinwheel cookies last night? Id like to say that. Then I vomited them back up, because I have to stay thin.

King Thank you, Andrea. Now, if I could turn to Clintons involvement if you choose to call it that in the Benghazi attack, where four Americans, including US ambassador J Christopher Stevens, were killed. Did that play a part in your decision not to vote for Clinton?

Allen Is Benghazi in Africa or China?

Russell Actually, its in Libya. Which the Obama administration destabilized by not helping Gaddafi in his time of need. The man was an asshole, but he was our asshole. Pardon my French, ladies.

Barker Putting the bitch factor aside, I dont think you can hold her responsible for what a bunch of ragheads do. They just want to kill Americans for Allah.

King So you dont blame her?

Barker Not for that, Jesus no. Hey, you should see my collection of surfer mags. My wife thinks its the boards Im interested in.

King Just to put a button on this, were any of you influenced by Benghazi when you stepped into the voting booth?

[No responses.]

Illustration: Leonard Beard for the Guardian

King OK, lets move along. There was also a controversy about Clinton sending and receiving emails on an unsecured server. Something like 35,000. Did that influence any of you?

Russell Speaking just for myself, not at all. Hackers can get into any computer, secured or not. Someone phished my American Express card number and got himself over $1,000 worth of equipment at Best Buy. They should bring back the whipping post for people who do that. It would put a stop to the practice in short order.

Allen Billy-boy, you nailed it. Computers these days might as well be screen doors. You see hacking all the time in the music business. And hey, get real. What was the stuff going back and forth, anyway? Recipes, gossip, Ill be here at such-and-such a time, did you see her new purse, shit like that. Give me a break.

Barker Whats this about emails? What are you talking about?

Wiggins Never mind, no biggie.

Gagnon My computer is busted. It was just a cheap one, anyway. I have to buy a new one, but cant afford it just now. Id steal one, but Im scared of getting caught.

King Andrea, what about you?

Sparks I dont care about that chicks emails. What I care about are the taco-benders down the street with their food wagon, cutting into my business. I went to the police, and they said the taco-benders had a permit. How do illegals get a permit to sell food on the street? Tell me that.

Russell Do you have proof they are illegals, Andrea?

Sparks I dont need proof. Those wetbacks are like bedbugs, theyre everywhere. And they breed. I cant wait until Trump builds that wall. The Mexicans say they wont pay for it, but they will, unless they want American tanks in Jurez and Tijuana. You wait and see. Trump takes no shit. I like a man who takes no shit. If my ex-husbands had been more like that, Id never have fired them.

Wiggins You want a scandal? Clintons on the side of the baby-killers, thats a scandal.

Barker Shes also on the side of the gun Puritans. Ive got four firearms, two handguns and two rifles, and nobodys taking those suckers. Nobody.

King Very interesting, Gary, but weve wandered away from the question. Were any of you influenced by the so-called email scandal when you stepped into the voting booth?

[No responses.]

King OK, Id like to move along to

Allen Can I say something else about Hillary?

King Of course, David.

Allen You asked us when we decided to vote for Trump. Ill tell you when I decided I was also gonna vote against her, even though I thought she was basically OK. Smart, even. I dont go along with that bitch stuff, either. I work with women on the road, and even the ones who are bitches hate that word. So I steer clear of it.

Sparks Whats your point, Mr Huffington Post Politically Correct?

Allen You ought to do something about that hair, maam, your dye jobs showing.

Sparks Fuck you.

King If we have that out of the way

Allen I was in Houston on 9/11 last year, OK? Visiting my sister and picking up some bucks working an Eric Church gig. That afternoon, before I had to go on down to the Bayou and start rolling amps, I was in this little place called Spot Mikes, kind of a lunchateria where they also serve beer. The TV was on, and they showed Hillary collapsing after she tried to give a speech, or maybe she did give it, I dont know. But she went legless and the men around her, probably Secret Service, had to help her into the car. It made me think of something my grandad used to say: woman-weak. Thats what she was, woman-weak. Now suppose that happened during a crisis, or something. No, she didnt have any business being the most powerful person in the world.

King Can I point out that George HW Bush vomited during a state dinner in Japan?

Barker I remember that, but he had food poisoning. Her, though, its like Dave said: woman-weak.

Gagnon I heard she had a bunch of strokes and they covered it up.

Russell She and Slick Willie are big-time dopers. Its a known fact. Whereas Trump doesnt even drink.

Wiggins Kind of a fat shit, though, isnt he? Likes his Whoppers.

[General affectionate laughter from the panel.]

King I want to move on to some of the negatives about Trump, and ask why they didnt influence you. Lets start with his alleged ties to Russia. Anyone care to comment?

Gagnon Speaking of influence, do you have any with TV people, Mr King? Id sure like to be on The Price Is Right. Im very good at guessing the prices of things, toasters and such, and Id like a chance at one of those showcases. They have these wonderful trips.

King Im sorry, I dont know anyone who

Russell You have to stand in line, like everyone else. Live with it.

King There have been accusations that Trumps associates have ties to Russia, and that Trump himself may have financial interests in that part of the world. Hes certainly said plenty of complimentary things about Putin. Any feelings on that? Helen? What about you?

Wiggins Whats wrong with making friends of an enemy? Burying the hatchet? Thats what the Bible says.

Allen Like that song, Whats So Funny Bout Peace, Love, And Understanding?

Sparks Totally agree. As for the oil, if theres more, the prices go down. More miles for your buck. No-brainer.

Gagnon Speaking of that, they had one of those electric cars on The Price Is Right just last week. I think it was a Prius, or maybe a

Russell Two strong men working together. I like it. Its good for business.

King Anyone else?

Wiggins Is it lunchtime yet? I dont know if its the serum or what, but I could eat a horse.

Allen I got something you can eat, hon. Not as big as a horse but almost.

King This seems an appropriate time to ask about certain sexual allegations. The famous grab em by the pussy remark, for instance. And how you can do anything if youre famous. Ladies first.

Gagnon How many women do you think have been throwing themselves at him, someone whos rich and handsome?

[General laughter at the word handsome.]

Gagnon Well, he was, anyway, and hes still rich. Nobody talks about women who go sex-fishing for men, tell you that.

Sparks Also, most women in showbusiness are whores, so whats the big deal? Look at the Academy Awards if you dont believe me. Every woman under 30 falling out of her dress. Show a man dessert, honey, hes going to want to eat.

Barker And at least hes not a fag, you know?

Wiggins Men are men, thats all. They all talk big, especially when theyre with other men.

Russell Sure. And let me point out we were electing a president, not a saint.

Allen Exactly. That sex stuff was just the press, trying to sell papers and bring him down while they were at it. Those guys were all for Hillary.

King OK, but suppose the shoe had been on the other foot, and the press had obtained a tape of Hillary talking like that?

Sparks They didnt.

Wiggins Also, its different for women. The um

Russell The perception.

Wiggins Right.

King I believe you have a daughter, Helen

Wiggins Thats right. Patricia. Patty. Shes the best thing in my life. Smart as well as pretty. Gets all As in school. You should see her book reports!

King What if it was her pussy Trump was talking about grabbing?

Wiggins Thats a filthy thing to say. Also stupid. My daughters only nine. Even the New York Times never said Trump goes for kiddies, and they lie about everything.

King Im just saying

Wiggins Well, dont. Save the dirty talk for your books.

King OK, lets move on to Trumps taxes. He wont reveal them.

Allen No law says he has to.

King What if hes hiding something?

Sparks Honey, were all hiding something. Although I will admit Id like to see what sort of fiddles hes using.

[General laughter.]

Barker Actually, I would, too. Hes got a lot of friends in big business, and they all care more about their money than anything else. Goes without saying. That stuff about how he was going to drain the swamp? I never believed it. They drain the swamp, everyone will see how many bodies theyve buried there.

Sparks Not to mention how much buried treasure.

Allen If he does a good job, fuck his tax returns.

Barker Cant argue with that.

Gagnon Besides, rich people dont have to pay like the rest of us, everyone knows that. They have lawyers and accountants to keep them on the right side of the law. They know all the loopholes. Its how the world works. Hes against Obamacare, thats the important thing. That takes more money out of poor peoples pockets than taxes. Its not like the Affordable Care Act. The Republicans did that, and its much better.

King It appeared that he made fun of a reporter with a physical disability shaking and stuttering. Any thoughts on that?

Russell Not relevant.

King It doesnt speak to character?

Russell Of course not. Dont be obtuse.

Allen It wasnt very nice, but the guy pissed him off. Sure, it was politically incorrect, but I thought it was, um

Sparks A breath of fresh air?

Allen Yes. It woke people up. None of the usual politician bullshit. Hannity isnt right about everything, but he sure was about that.

King This would be Sean Hannity, of Fox News?

Allen Correct.

King How many of you got most of your information on the candidates from Fox News?

[Allen, Russell and Sparks raise their hands.]

King What about you, Felicia?

Gagnon I watch Lester Holt. Also Good Morning America.

King Gary?

Barker I read USA Today. They have a little story about Indiana every day, and their sports coverage is terrific. The rest you have to take with a grain of salt, because the coverage was slanted toward Clinton.

Russell What wasnt slanted in the papers was made up of whole cloth. Fake news. The worst offender was the New York Slimes, and they wont let it go.

King I think weve about finished, but Id like to run one more thing by you before we break for lunch. Psychologists mention four basic traits when diagnosing a sociopathic condition known as narcissistic personality disorder. People suffering from this condition believe themselves superior to others, they insist on having the best of everything, they are egocentric and boastful, and they have a tendency to first select love objects, then find them at fault and push them aside. Comments?

[A long silence at the table.]

Russell Whats your point?

Gagnon Are you sure you cant get me on The Price Is Right?

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