#posting this in honor of Logan’s sign of life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shireness-says · 4 years ago

Text

I have yearned for you (and I still do)

Summary: “There’s an irony, she thinks, to the situation they find themselves in now - he, the man who has it all together, and her, an increasingly hot mess.” Sometimes the things you need are right back where you started from. ~10.6k. Rated T for language. Also on Ao3.

~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: For @welllpthisishappening, who doesn’t want to talk about the revival, and @snidgetsafan, who does. Behold: my pining-type thoughts! Thanks for your patience and encouragement as I stressed over this instead of working on my WIPs.

Post-revival, if that’s an issue for anyone. Title from a Frank Turner song yet again, because that’s how I roll. Extra thanks to L for her beta skills.

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jess is the one who comes up with her name. In retrospect, that was probably a sign.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. From the moment the sonogram tech had announced congrats, it’s a girl , it had kind of been a done deal that she would be another Lorelai. Something something tradition. But with the reigning Lorelai still alive and well and so obviously having dibs on the full name, it’d been obvious that some sort of nickname was going to come into play.

There’d been a suggestion box in the diner after no small amount of twisting Luke’s arm, suggestions of how the heck they were supposed to shorten Lorelai, and then a follow-up poll of the options Rory had actually liked (because she was not calling the kid “Loreo, like Oreo!”, thank you, Cesar). It’d been nice, actually, and a good way to channel the collective energy of the denizens of Stars Hollow without being stopped on the street every three minutes when her feet already hurt like hell.

Anyways. In the polling, “Elle” had won, and Rory had actually really liked it. Something the kiddo had a chance to grow into - feminine, delicate yet strong, a name that would fit a little girl or a grown adult. And, c’mon - in the Gilmore household, they’ve always liked Legally Blonde anyways. There’s worse role models than Reese Witherspoon being unapologetically herself.

But.

The thing is, as much as Rory had though it was cute back when the kid was an unrealized idea, just a little mooch taking her energy and appetite for normal things, it’s a very different thing to hold her baby for the first time - her tiny girl, here and screaming and with wisps of the softest blonde hair. And she just can’t do it. It feels too on the nose, to call this little blonde baby Elle - like she’s about to doom this tiny person to a lifetime of not being taken seriously. She deserves better than that.

She doesn’t go nameless; it’s easy to fill out the birth certificate Lorelai Richard Gilmore , even if the nurse casts a funny look at the choice of middle name. She’s never been a staunch traditionalist anyways, and Rory had wanted to honor her grandfather regardless if the baby had been a boy or a girl. He would have loved having a great-granddaughter to spoil in the way he and Grandma had been denied when she was a baby - and besides, even if Emily shakes her head about the unconventional choice, it makes her smile fondly too.

Still - there’s a difference between what someone is named and what someone is called, and the latter for the youngest Lorelai is still a great big question mark. Rory runs back through the list of runners up, but nothing fits .

“I was supposed to have this figured out by now,” she whines to Jess when he drops by to visit and meet the baby. He’s been a huge help as she tries to write her book, and after years of awkward “what the hell even are we”, Rory feels like they’re finally back in a good place, back to being friends. She likes being friends, like him being one of her people again, even if the 2nd trimester horniness and wanting to jump his bones never really went away. But she’s not really in a place to think about that right now. “Aren’t I supposed to be able to just, like, look at her and know what her destined name is supposed to be?”

“Yes, because motherhood automatically grants mystical powers,” he replies wryly. “I think that whole thing is a myth, Gilmore.”

He looks good holding a baby - surprisingly comfortable too. It makes her realize, not for the first time, that he built himself a whole life she doesn’t know about while she ran around the world, trying to figure out what would make her happy - a life with a business and a purpose and probably friends with kids. Not at all the boy she met more than a decade ago.

(It is something she tries not to focus too much on, for fear of where it might lead - to the realization that she may not really know him at all, or more dangerously, the realization that she wants to.)

“Ivy,” he says out of nowhere. “You should call her Ivy.”

“Ivy?” It hadn’t been one of the names any suggested before, but in a weird way, it fits. Something soft and strong and neutral, a name that could become anything. A name she can make her own.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s Lorelai the fourth, right? Lorelai the fourth. Lorelai I-V. Ivy.”

And it’s - well, the name is so right, but the logic behind it is so Jess. Because he’s always been clever like that - not even aware that there’s a box he’s thinking outside of. She likes, too, that now that he’s made the suggestion, he doesn’t try to backtrack or explain anything away, try to tell her she doesn’t have to listen. He knows she knows that. Jess has never been one to fill a silence just because it exists.

“I like that,” she finally says. “Ivy Gilmore.”

“Then congratulations - it’s a name.”

———

Telling Logan had been hard - harder than making herself take the test, harder than telling her mom. Because they’re not an item anymore, you know? They’ve gone their separate ways, ended whatever dynamic they’ve had going the last couple of years, and under normal circumstances, it would be easier to keep her distance. No contact, end it all firmly and definitively and for good .

A baby complicates that, and throws that possibility straight out the window.

She can’t really say she’s disappointed in Logan’s response, not when it plays out pretty much exactly the way Rory assumed it would. Nothing changes; they don’t get back together, and he doesn’t leave the French heiress. Rory isn’t certain she’d want either of those things anyways. He’d offered to support her in whatever decision she made, and that was more or less it. He’s never been great with emotions, and having a kid doesn’t show signs of changing that.

(Rory hadn’t expected him to be a hands-on partner in this - not even remotely - but it still aches, knowing this is the beginning of what will be a pattern in their child’s life.)

Now, all these months later, Rory texts him a picture from the hospital once the parade of visitors has gone home. Even in the midst of that disappointment, he deserves to know.

Lorelai Richard Gilmore IV. 7 lbs, 2 oz. We’re calling her Ivy.

His reply comes through a half hour later. Congrats, Ace - she’s beautiful, just like her mother.

(She’ll never admit it later - but when she receives his response, it takes everything in her not to cry.)

———

It’s nerve-wracking, bringing Ivy home from the hospital and back to her mom’s house - like Rory shouldn’t be trusted to leave with such precious cargo. The hospital had been safe , and the big wide world out there feels full of dangers as she carefully steps out into the June sunshine, the baby carrier in hand. It’s this moment, of all times, that makes Rory feel like a parent for the first time - like it’s her sole job to protect and nurture this tiny person that she made.

Lorelai and Luke’s is just a temporary stopping place, just until Rory can get her feet beneath her in this whole motherhood thing. It’s terrifying, knowing that she’ll have to be doing this on her own soon enough. She’s taken the classes and read countless books and websites, but it’s a very different thing once you’re handed a tiny, wrinkly baby and are expected to figure it out.

“How did you do it?” she asks her mom that first night, sitting in the kitchen together while Ivy nurses and Luke’s asleep upstairs. “I mean, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I’m in my thirties. You were sixteen .”

“I did it because I had to, babe,” her mom replies, reaching across the table to tuck a lock of hair back behind Rory’s ear. “I knew I wanted to give you the best life I could, so… I had to figure it out. Looking back now, Mom and Dad would have helped, and they tried, but I didn’t want that. I mean, we’re okay-ish now, but I didn’t want you growing up under the same pressure I did. So I went out and figured it out because I had to. You were the making of me, kiddo. And I’ll tell you now - that kid’s going to change you in ways you can’t even imagine now. And it’ll all be worth it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I look at you every day, and I’m so proud - and I made that. Pretty cool, huh? And each day as she gets older, you’re going to get to do that too. You’ll figure this out. I know you will. You’re going to be a great mom.”

By the time Lorelai is done, Rory feels tears trying to form in her eyes. Something something hormones. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime, hon.”

———

She’s living in Luke’s old apartment above the diner. It’s the illusion of independence - it doesn’t feel like she’s living with her mother any more, especially now that she’s got a kid of her own, but she’s not paying rent either (no matter how much she had offered). The truth of the matter is that, except for Ivy’s things, she’s living out of boxes. There hadn’t been any sense to staying in New York, not when her income stream is so up in the air; besides, as much as Rory had loved the city for herself, she isn’t sure she’d want to raise her daughter there. Stars Hollow may be a bit loony, like a place out of a YA coming-of-age novel, but there’d been love in every single corner. She’d wanted that for Ivy, even when she was just two lines on a test stick - to grow up with this whole zany extended family. Rory’s own blood family is tiny, and even if Logan was eager to be involved, his isn’t much bigger; Ivy can use all the proto-aunts and -uncles and -grandparents she can gather.

(Rory does feel some guilt on the rent front, but Luke wouldn’t hear of it. He’d waved it off in that grumpy way of his, some excuse about being too old to have a crying infant disturbing their sleep in the Queen Anne where Rory had grown up, but she remembers the way Luke had once called her a little bit his . This is his way of quietly looking after his grown almost-daughter - and looking at it like that, there’s no way she’d turn down the offer.)

(She knows for certain it’s all an excuse after Ivy is born, when Luke turns into every inch the doting grandfather, bouncing and cooing at the baby every time she expresses even the mildest displeasure. Too old for crying infants , her ass.)

The apartment is the same as ever, from the block letters on the door to the dark wood furniture inside. Honestly, it looks like the only thing Luke has updated in the past decade was replacing the refrigerator, and Rory doubts that was just on a whim. There’s a comfort to that same-ness - of knowing that some things never change, and don’t have to. She has so many memories up here, especially from that period when she and Jess had been dating. The blankets on the spare bed are different now - lavender and spring green for April, instead of the bachelor plaids Luke had scrounged up when Jess had moved in - but the couch is the same, and the kitchen table where they’d pretended to study, and the tiny closet of a bathroom where she’d try desperately to straighten her hair before heading home. A simpler time, in some ways - but a more complicated one too. Rory had been the town princess then, the perennial good girl , and for all of his brains and sarcastic charm, Jess had been a mess in many ways. Now, things are a bit more grey - where Rory doesn’t quite have her act together, and Jess is the one with a life and a career and a calling. She’s proud of him in so many ways, but it leaves her feeling off balance, and as much of that is about her own adrift state, there’s no denying that part of it is about this unexpected reversal. So much will never change in Stars Hollow - but somehow, this has.

———

Logan finally comes stateside, to Stars Hollow, when Ivy is a little over five weeks old.

They meet at the Dragonfly, because it seems the most neutral spot. Lorelai may have capital-o Opinions, but she’ll keep them to herself if Rory asks, and it’s still better than pulling him through the diner up to the apartment, where overprotective townies will glare and Kirk might try to challenge him to a duel for her honor or something. No one ever knows with Kirk.

Logan meeting Ivy is… he makes all the right moves in the moment, you know? He smiles and bounces her and looks at her like some sort of precious mystery. But Rory can see too, already, from years of experience, that he’s got the makings of another Christopher. As much as she knows that he’ll love the kid they made, and do his best to take care of her, he’s not ready, and Rory can’t force him to be. Even in his thirties, Logan has a lot of growing up to do.

“I went ahead and set up a fund for her college,” he makes sure to say before he departs, flying out of Boston that very afternoon to take care of some business in LA, “but you’ll let me know if she needs anything, right Ace? Or if you do?”

“I promise. Scout’s honor, cross my heart.”

“She really is beautiful, Rory. Thanks for this - letting me be a part of it.”

And then, before she knows it, he’s gone.

(She’ll never regret the times they were together, not when it brought her their daughter, but Ivy has made it all too obvious why they never would have lasted. Rory has long since stopped wondering what things would have been like if she had said yes, all those years ago when Logan had proposed. This is proof enough - a life spent hoping for something he’s not willing or able to give, and watching him climb onto an airplane over and over again.)

(In some moments, Rory almost thinks Logan’s absence is for the best when she remembers the utter horror that is his family - the way his mother doesn’t care about anything but her creature comforts, and Mitchum doesn’t care about anything but himself and his impossible standards. Rory may feel guilty about it, but sometimes, she’s relieved that Logan’s absence means that Ivy will never have to face their condescension the way Rory had to with Straub and Francine. It is a small blessing to be found in the tragedy that she’s afraid Logan’s involvement, and lack thereof, will turn into.)

When Jess comes by later to talk about the book and probably watch a movie, he finds her crying in the kitchen, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Ivy. He pulls her into his arms seemingly without a second thought, and Rory lets herself melt into the hug, just for the moment.

“It’s leftover hormones,” she tries to excuse, but they both know better. They’re both products of absentee fathers, after all, both know the ways that can shape a child. Jess knows full well what happened today; it’s probably why he’s here tonight, to pull her from the worst of her self pity. They both know her tears aren’t for herself, for the death of a relationship that’s long since ended; they’re for Ivy, and a relationship that maybe won’t start.

“She won’t be alone,” he makes sure to tell her once Rory’s calmed down enough to be rational. “I mean, even beyond you and your mom and Emily, there’s Luke and Lane’s husband and a whole host of other guys who can step up. Hell, Kirk in all his weird glory has probably got some qualification to adopt her. And you know I’ll be here, as long as you want me to be.”

“Yeah?” Rory’s throat is still clogged, but she’ll take it as a win that she didn’t sniffle. It’s too significant a moment to mar that way.

“What can I say, she’s cute enough to hold my attention.”

“You always were a sucker for a Gilmore,” she laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, someone’s got to make sure you’re aware vegetables exist.”

And just like that, even as Rory’s tears are still dissipating, the mood is lifted into safer territory. That’s Jess, though, isn’t it? All that emotion, hidden behind a front of sarcasm. After all of the mistakes of his youth, he’s grown into a man people can count on; he’s proved that these last couple years, as Rory has found herself floundering.

They’ll be lucky to have him in their lives.

———

After that last night on the town with Logan and his friends, Rory expected to never see any of the members of the Life and Death Brigade again. They’ve had their fun together, over the years; Rory will certainly never forget all the crazy shenanigans they all got up to together. But as much as she’s enjoyed their time together, those have always been more Logan’s friends than her own.

It comes as a surprise, then, when all of them - Finn and Colin and Robert, the three musketeers or three amigos - all make a point to call and text and, eventually, drop by. They’re a little fascinated by the baby, this sudden proof that someone in their sphere really has grown up. As nervous as it makes her at first, to let these crazy, careless men sit in the diner and take a turn carefully holding Ivy, it’s cute and funny to see the way they handle her like some kind of unknown, volatile science experiment.

It’s funny, really, how differently they all react to the various daddy issues in their life. With Logan, it’s made him eager to live up to Mitchum’s impossible standards, no matter how much he tries to claim otherwise. With the rest of the Brigade, it’s somehow had the opposite effect. They all run away from responsibility whenever it gets too close, and Rory isn’t remotely in denial about that, but they’re somehow desperate to love and be loved, too, all of them. They’ll never be the guys she calls for babysitting, not if she wants Ivy back in one piece, but Rory thinks they could be the fun uncles instead - not a constant presence in Ivy’s life, but the kind of figures who will send a dozen roses and maybe a singing telegram to a kindergarten graduation or gift an impractical car for her sixteenth birthday.

(And in the empty space Logan seems determined to leave - Rory will take whatever she can get.)

———

Jess has been around a lot more than Rory anticipated, really. It’s not that he’s stayed away from Stars Hollow in past years; his life may be based in Philadelphia now, what with Truncheon and all, but she knows he’s made a point to drive up a couple of times a year to see Luke and Liz and his little sister, Doula. Since Rory’s come back to town, though, he seems to be around at least once a month - checking in, offering support with the book or anything else, and generally being a friend. It’s not something Rory’s particularly inclined to question, happy just to have him back in her life, but it doesn’t go unnoticed, either.

“He’s been around a lot,” Luke comments pointedly. “Know anything about that?”

“He’s helping with the book,” Rory explains wearily. It’s an explanation she’s made a lot of times, to a lot of people, though she never figured Luke - level-headed Luke, who usually runs from gossip and emotions like an Olympic sprinter - would be one of them.

“Whatever you say, Rory.”

Only the delivery of her burger had stopped a full-blown debate - something Luke had likely known. You don’t live with a Gilmore Girl for a decade without picking up a few tricks.

(She’s trying not to read too much into it - the way he keeps showing up to sit in an empty desk at the Gazette office and listen to her talk until she works out her own writing blocks - but others apparently don’t have that same compunction. Then again, Luke has never been called subtle .)

By the time Ivy is born, Rory thinks the book is maybe two-thirds of the way done, thanks in large part to Jess’ encouragement. At least halfway, for sure. It’s a different kind of writing than she’s used to, after years of news articles and five-page magazine spreads, but it’s the good kind of challenge. There are days the words just flow out of her, memory mixing with prose to create something wonderful, and there are days she stumbles more. The personal nature of the project accounts for most of her hold-ups. Rory knows what makes for a good story, what will best illustrate the points she’s trying to get across, but it’s about her , and her mom, and all the other people in this crazy town that she loves. There’s not the same distance that she might find if she was writing about post-apocalyptic teens, or whatever other kind of fiction is in vogue these days.

“Why did I decide to do this?” Rory groans, sitting on the couch in the apartment with Jess and her laptop, watching as Ivy pedals her arms and legs on her playmat on the floor. “Why did you talk me into writing this? This is your fault, you know.”

“Yes, I’m an evil genius forcing you to write a book. Absolute cruelty,” he snarks back. “Talk to me again tomorrow or next week when you figure out what needs to change for your current hurdle to make sense.”

“Why do you have to be the voice of reason?”

Jess’ face is unusually earnest when he turns to look at her - or as least as earnest as Jess ever gets. “Because I know you can do this, Rory. You might be the most determined person I know - if you want to write a book, it’s going to happen. I’m just here to listen to you whine until you’re ready to get back to the grindstone.”

“An invaluable service, really.”

“Damn straight. I’m an expert in that field.”

And he’s right - because a few days later, Rory busts through her block and gets back to flying through sentences and paragraphs.

(She’d tell him what that kind of encouragement does for her - but then again, he probably already knows.)

———

Rory doesn’t have a regular job, per se, at least not right now; Ivy takes up so much of her time, and in between she’s desperately trying to put her book down on paper. She’s still the editor and primary contributor of the Stars Hollow Gazette, but it’s hard to call that steady work. There’s not enough going on in this little town for that, and most months accounts of the latest town meetings and whatever festival or fundraiser is being held in their little hamlet take up the sparse pages. It’s work that lets her feel like she’s accomplishing something - but in any other circumstance, one where she’s not simultaneously taking care of an infant, it wouldn’t be nearly enough to do, with the skimpy compensation to match.

It’s a shock when she gets a call out of the blue from Headmaster Charleston, asking if she’d like to come back to Chilton to head up a weekly journalism class. Privately, Rory suspects her grandmother of meddling; even if she now lives in Nantucket, content to build a new life and new purpose, Emily’s years of networking and most of her connections still stand, and she’s still not above pulling on those strings for what she believes is the benefit of all. It’s all too easy to accept the offer when she’s not in much of a position to say no. There’s the argument, too, that maybe this will help Rory figure out what she wants to do; perhaps teaching is her real calling.

(Somehow, Rory doubts that.)

As much as she loves Ivy, marvels at all the little changes and developments that come so quickly in these early months, it’s nice to have a standing appointment every Wednesday to get out of the apartment and out of Stars Hollow and put on real pants for a change. Chilton is the same as ever, all tall gothic arches and meticulously pruned shrubs, but somehow it seems less intimidating than it did when she was a student. Not smaller, like all the high school reunion cliches, but less… weighty. It’s no longer some mountain she has to climb like it was back when she was a teenager; it can be just a building and a repository for her memories.

Rory finds that she likes teaching the class, actually, even if she can’t see herself making a career out of it. It’s nice to keep this just as a side gig, coming to campus once a week, only committed to teaching the one ninety minute class. She knows for certain that she’d go insane if she was committed to teaching three or four periods every day of the week, but this? This is sharing her knowledge and her passion with a small group of students who want to be here, who signed up for this elective on purpose. It’s like revisiting her own time as a student - covering the evolution of the profession and talkabout all the things she wished she knew when she first started at the Yale Daily News. With only one class, too, she doesn’t feel bad about seeking out one of the coffee shops she used to go to, back when she went to Chilton, in order to grade homework without distractions before she has to pick Ivy up from her mom at the Dragonfly.

It’s not her calling - but it’s a nice distraction.

———

Most afternoons, Rory camps out at one of the tables by the bay window down in the diner with her laptop and tries to write. Tries is the operative word, of course; this is a social town, and not to be too vain, but she’s a popular lady. It’s still easier to take the baby monitor downstairs while Ivy’s napping, as the open floorplan of the apartment makes it difficult to do anything without waking the baby.

(Yeah, she knows she’s supposed to sleep when the baby sleeps and all that - but clearly, whoever came up with that catchphrase wasn’t trying to write a novel at the same time.)

Today, a quiet Tuesday afternoon at the end of the lunch rush, her distraction has nothing to do with catty townsfolk. Today, Luke roped the visiting Jess into filling in for the usual waitress, and the sight is… something to behold. Jess has filled out since they first met, no longer the skinny, lanky kid she knew in high school; that much has been obvious for the last several years. But there’s something about the rolled up sleeves today, the way his arms keep flexing as he delivers and clears plates, that leaves Rory unable to look away.

“When did you get built , Mariano?” she teases as he comes around with another coffee refill - still decaf, much to her chagrin, but what are you going to do.

Jess slides into the chair across from her, snagging his own mug off of an empty set table to pour his own cup of the brew. With an exaggerated glance down at his own arm, he shrugs. “Dunno. Took up boxing a couple years ago. Why, you see something you like, Gilmore?” he finishes with that cocky little smirk that’s always made her all fluttery. Some things really haven’t changed over the years.

“What can I say, I’m a red-blooded American female.” After a moment, the first part of his response catches up to her tired brain. “Wait, you said boxing? Like - ”

Jess groans. “Do not make a Rocky joke, Rory, I swear to God - ”

“I’m just saying, you live in Philadelphia! Maybe you’ve gone native! I mean, I would have pegged you for obnoxious cheesesteak opinions instead of this, but to each his own - ”

“This is not some weird ‘gone native’ thing,” he scoffs. It’s evident he knows she’s teasing him, though, in the way the side of his mouth struggles not to quirk up. It’s nice, reminiscent of the banter they used to toss back and forth. “This is… it’s good exercise, ok? And a much better outlet for my frustrations than whatever self-destructive spirals I used to get into.”

Rory gapes, struck speechless for a rare moment. “Jess Mariano, did you go to therapy ?”

A little bit of color flushes on his neck, but he otherwise keeps his composure. It’s not that she has anything against him going to therapy - frankly, they’re both prime candidates for a doctor’s couch, regardless of whether they want to admit it. It’s just surprising, somehow, to hear that Jess of all people is seeing someone, talking things out. Good for him, honestly - for the therapy and for being open about it. It’s another sign of how far he’s come since they were still those idiot teenagers. “Heard it was the trendy thing to do these days.”

“And you’re nothing if not a hip lemming, always following the crowd.”

“Yes, that is the one thing that people have always said about me. I’m such a follower.”

Somehow, she can’t help but grin at this, the way they sass each other back and forth. So often these past months, since Ivy was born, Rory has felt too tired to keep up with her usual self, to dish things out with the speed and array of references that she’s used to. It’s a relief to reclaim that, even just for a moment.

Before the moment can blossom any further, Babette waves Jess down from across the diner for her own refill. “Try not to get distracted by the gun show, alright, Rory?” he jabs as he stands up in his dry, teasing voice. “That book won’t write itself.”

(And if she sneaks another handful of glances before she hears Ivy start to fuss on the baby monitor - well, he’s good enough not to mention it.)

———

In a weird way, having Ivy brings Rory’s friendship with Lane into perspective.

Rory doesn’t remember a lot of the first year of Lane’s twins’ lives; the fact of the matter is that she hadn’t been around to make those memories. She only realizes now just how much Lane was on her own - Rory had been off following the Obama campaign, and Zach had been on tour for months at Lane’s insistence. Some days Rory feels like she can barely keep her head above water, and she’s only got the one baby to contend with; it’s a miracle Lane didn’t snap while having to care for two on her own.

“I really admire you, you know,” Rory tells Lane during a lunch date at the antique shop while Kwan and Steve are at school. Lane sits across the table, same as it ever was, happily making faces at Ivy in her arms.

“How’s that?” Lane asks.

“Because… I don’t know, I feel like I’m losing myself in the mom-ness of it all some days. I don’t get how you made it through that first year without Zach here most of the time and still stayed… Lane .”

“I mean, I wasn’t fully alone,” Lane points out. “I had my parents. Mom especially. Having her help with the boys really finally healed that relationship, which I’m not sure would have happened otherwise.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But, I mean, you’ve still got the band and you still keep up with all these up and coming music acts and - I don’t know. Maybe this is just baby brain, but I have trouble thinking about all the things I’d normally like to do. Seeing movies and new TV shows and whatever else. It’s like… all the Rory bits of my brain are just being taken over by Ivy bits.”

“It gets better in time,” Lane assures her, shifting Ivy to cover Rory’s hand on the table next to the rice cakes neither have touched. “She’ll get older and more independent, and you’ll have time again to be Rory. Besides, you’re not alone either,” she adds. “Not only do you have your mom and Luke and a whole town of affectionate maniacs, but you’ve got me. You can drop this cutie with me, her godmother, anytime you need a break.”

“Didn’t you reject religion years ago?”

“That’s a good point - but also, I’ve decided it’s not relevant right now.”

———

Motherhood, as a whole, is rewarding. There’s something magical about the way Ivy looks at her and looks like her, something earth shattering about the kind of trust she exhibits every time she smiles or reaches for Rory. It’s purpose, in a way that Rory was never entirely sure that she wanted; now, like every cliche ever written, she can’t imagine life any other way.

For all of the magical moments, though, there are moments like this - hours and days where Ivy won’t stop crying, refusing to be soothed no matter how long she’s held or how much she’s bounced and swayed. It feels like Rory’s tried everything - the changing, the feeding, the singing, the music, the lighter clothes. Everything. None of it works, not even for a moment, and Rory’s at her wit’s end, practically in tears herself as she bounces around the apartment with her tiny banshee in her arms.

“Please stop crying, baby,” she pleads, stroking the wisps of reddish fluff at the top of Ivy’s small head. The blonde hair had fallen out at six weeks, much to Rory’s guilty relief, and was growing back in a shade reminiscent of Emily’s natural shade. Not that she can focus on it right now. “I’ll do anything , baby, just… I don’t know what you want. What do you want ?”

Ivy doesn’t answer though, too young for anything but these screams. The never ending screams. The screams that leave Rory feeling more desperate, more on-edge than ever in her life.

It’s not a great time for someone to knock at the apartment door; frankly, it’s probably a miracle that Rory even hears it. Under more normal circumstances, she might care that Jess sees her like this when she opens the door - unshowered, exhausted, barely holding it together - but she’s reached a point where she’s incapable of caring about anything but stopping the crying.

“Were we supposed to meet?” she asks, tears rising to the surface as the very prospect proves just one too many things to handle. “I’m so sorry, Ivy’s been fussy all week, I completely forgot - ”

“No, I know,” Jess interrupts. “We didn’t have plans, Luke mentioned you were having a rough week. I figured I’d come up, give you a bit of a break.”

It doesn’t help. “I’m - it’s ok, I can handle this. You think I can’t handle this?” The words come out more frantically than she would have liked, but she’s not thinking straight anymore, and Ivy’s still crying —

“You know I don’t think that, Rory,” he says, in as much as a soothing voice as Jess can muster. He’s never been much for displays of emotion. “I just want to help. Let me take the howler monkey for a couple hours. You can have a shower, get a nap, come back thinking clearer. Alright?”

Her pride demands she say no - to not ask for help. It’s a streak so reminiscent of her own mother. But she’s so tired, and her ears will be ringing from the cries and screams for ages to come, and it’s too tempting an offer to deny. Resignedly, she nods, handing over the baby. “Ok. Yeah, ok, thank you. Let me get you the baby bag, and the carrier, and - ”

“Nope,” Jess interrupts, already starting a half-conscious bounce to try and settle Ivy and waving off all of Rory’s attempts at protest. “Look, I spent a lot of time here way back when, helping Doula make it to her first birthday. I know the drill. You’re veering towards Liz-level crazed, so go take a moment for yourself before it becomes permanent, alright?”

Somehow, Rory finds herself nodding, though she can’t help but try and reclaim a bit of the banter - or a bit of normality, more like. “You can’t really call her a howler monkey, though. She’s not howling yet.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t know that screaming monkeys are a thing, so we’ll make do. And the operative term is yet .”

As much as it hurts to admit, he’s right - after a shower and a couple hours’ nap, Rory feels… not quite like a new woman, but at least prepared to enter the fray for another round. Lately, that’s enough of a win. When she wanders back downstairs, Jess sits outside on a park bench with Ivy shaded in her carrier from the worst of the summer sun. His foot absentmindedly rocks the carrier back and forth periodically as he reads a well-worn paperback whose cover she can’t make out.

He looks up as soon as the bell on the diner door jingles, putting the book aside when he sees Rory stepping down. Blessedly, Ivy’s cries have ceased for the moment. “Don’t get too excited,” Jess cautions her. “Think she just cried herself out for the moment. I’m not remotely confident she won’t start again once she wakes up.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” Rory gladly collapses onto the bench beside him, caving to the urge to lean into his body and rest her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for this. I clearly needed it.”

Jess just hums in response at first. They sit in silence for several minutes, just soaking in the day and watching preparations for whatever the carnival of the month might be in the town square, before he finally uses his words. “That’s not your fault, you know,” he assures her. “Babies are just like that. They go through spurts where it’s all crying all the time. You know that, from Lane’s and Paris’ kids.”

“I know,” Rory sighs. “I just didn’t realize how… helpless I’d feel. All the sleep deprivation and parental instinct and everything combining into straight up panic. I just felt like it was something I had to figure out, you know? I mean, this probably isn’t the last time.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to do it on your own. Call your mom, or Lane, or Luke, see if they’ll give you a hand for a couple of hours. Hell, give me a call, I’ll drive up if I have to. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know.” The moment sits between them as Rory processes. He’s right, of course; so often these past years, he’s been the voice of reason when she needs it most. “Thanks, Jess.”

“Not a big deal.”

Rory finally finds the light way out of this, and she takes it. “So, did Miss Patty or Babette happen to see you during your babysitting adventure?”

He groans. “Put it this way: we both should brace for some real creative comments in the next few weeks, and I for one plan to make myself scarce.”

———

She thinks about her grandfather a lot.

Richard had been such a steady figure in her life since the age of 15; for all of the heart and health problems he'd had in that time, he’d always seem invincible. Timeline - like he’d always been there, and would always be there. His death had been a shock, no matter how much it shouldn’t have been. Grandpa had believed in her so strongly too, that she could do anything she set her mind to. Of course, Rory thinks he probably never would have guessed she’d wind up here, after a life with everything so carefully planned.

“What do you think Grandpa would have thought of this?” she asks her grandmother during a more vulnerable moment. Emily’s Nantucket cottage isn’t even remotely as grand as the Hartford house had been, but there’s something more homey about it, and there’s still plenty of room for Rory and Ivy to come stay a few days over the October break. The sea breeze and change of scenery has sparked words in a way Rory hadn’t anticipated, but fully intends to take advantage of, and Emily loves the chance to spend time with her great-granddaughter, even if the ‘great’ makes her nose scrunch up in a very particular way. It aches a little for Rory to watch, knowing her grandmother probably wanted this back when Rory was a baby; then again, knowing the way Emily had wanted to raise Lorelai in their upper crust image, and gladly offered some of those same trappings to Rory, maybe this is for the best. Richard’s death has fractured Emily, but it’s softened her too, as much as that’s possible for Emily - made her loosen up, live in the moment more and worry about appearances less.

(Emily has offered, more than once and in a way veering towards insistence, to host Rory and Ivy here at the cottage for as long as they liked, but Rory keeps finding ways to turn her down. As much as she understands and accepts Emily’s desire to be involved in her great-granddaughter’s young life in a way she couldn’t be involved in Rory’s for so long, Rory understands, too, all the reasons why Lorelai set out on her own in the first place. She doesn’t quite understand where she’s going right now, but Rory knows that’s something she’ll have to figure out for herself. Emily, for better or for worse, wants the best for those she loves, and has always believed the best is a mirror image of the life she leads. That life now is different in so many ways from the one she was living before Richard died, but the urge is still there - and Rory isn’t sure she’s ready to spend her life in Nantucket, talking about whales. No, for now, a series of short visits is much better.)

“What do you mean?” Emily asks absently, comparing the look of two vases on a sideboard that look entirely identical to Rory.

“I mean, this probably isn’t where he saw me going. I can’t imagine what he’d think about me writing a book about the way I grew up. I just… do you think he’d be proud of me?”

Her grandmother sets both vases down with a gentleness that is contradictory to the way she crosses to Rory with determination in every movement. “Rory,” she says, placing her hands on Rory’s sweatshirt-clad shoulders, “your grandfather was always proud of you. Always . Even if we didn’t imagine this would be the path you’d take, I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make him anything less than proud, and delighted you were his granddaughter.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course. And I feel the same way.” With a last squeeze to Rory’s shoulders, Emily lets go and crosses back to her decorating with a smile. “Of course, after those years teaching, he would have edited your manuscript with a colored pen in hand. I’ll do you the favor of declining that form of editing.”

Rory laughs, knowing her grandmother is right; Richard had loved teaching those econ classes, and had taken to it like a duck to water. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. “I like remembering him like that,” she admits. “Excited to learn and share. I loved having those moments with him.”

Emily smiles fondly, sadly. They’re all slowly learning how to live in a world without him. “I did too.”

———

I want to drink in a bar. My kitchen feels depressing , the text from Paris demands. Let me know your schedule.

(She’s never been much for requests.)

Tact and lack thereof aside, it’s good to see Paris; Rory is more-or-less glad to consider her old schoolmate one of her best friends, inexplicably, but they’ve always both been too busy to really keep up with anything more than the occasional text, conversations often winding up spaced out over the course of several days as both get pulled in every-which direction. Even if Rory doesn’t have the same work demands now, Paris definitely still does. While she’d been an invaluable resource while Rory was pregnant, insisting on providing her with the names of the best doctors out there, they’ve both been too busy with their own lives for more than the occasional call since. This is well overdue - especially with Paris’ kids with Doyle for the week and Ivy at Lorelai’s for the night.

They go out to New Haven and hit the bars around Yale in what is probably some kind of misguided attempt to reclaim their youth. It’s been ten years; they’re obviously not students anymore. But it’s fun to sit in a grimy bar for the night and pretend they’re not thinking about all the terrible terrible substances that have been spilled on every surface.

They try to keep conversation light, to talk about books Rory’s read lately and Paris’ latest crazy client and all the little milestones their children are hitting. Albums they want to listen to and movies they want to see. Paris’ lengthy opinions about the bars near her in New York. All the little nothings that somehow form a lasting friendship. Maybe it’s the venue, though, or maybe it’s just an inevitability, but somehow they find themselves talking men over a third drink like they’re 22 again.

“I miss Doyle,” Paris confesses. “I miss my Doyle, not this cool screenwriting asshole he wants to turn into. He was a neurotic bastard, but he was my neurotic bastard, you know?”

“That’s the best description of Doyle I’ve heard in years,” Rory replies, examining her drink. It’s a garish blue - something that had seemed fun half a glass ago, but just seems questionable now. “So what, then - you guys going to get back together?”

“I don’t know. I mean, obviously I can’t bring that up. He’s the one who changed and suggested the stupid separation, he’s gotta be the one to fix it.”

(Rory isn’t entirely sure that’s how it works, but she knows better than to get into it with Paris when she’s stubborn about something.)

“What about you, though?” she continues, flagging down the bartender for a refill of her cosmo. “You aren’t still going to try and mend things with Logan, are you?”

“God no. I mean, obviously there’s love there, or there was, but that’s over. He’s not really… ready for all of this. Growing up in a way that doesn’t mean just following in his father’s footsteps.”

“I never really liked him, you know.”

Rory snorts. “Bullshit. You loved the banter.”

Paris toasts a concession. “Fine. But I never liked him after the bridesmaids debacle.”

“Fair enough.”

Rory thinks that’s it, as Paris reaches for the nachos on their appetizer platter. Well, not quite an appetizer platter; they’d just ordered all the finger food that was available and let it take up most of the table. Paris is full of surprises, though. “What about Jess?”

Rory tries not to accidentally inhale an ice cube. “What about Jess?”

“I mean, he’s been around, right? And looking hotter than ever.”

“Oh my god , Paris.”

“What? I’m just saying. No one would blame you. Or, you know, be surprised about you getting back together with your high school love who just happens to be an author. That’s better than any shitty script Doyle could come up with, even if it is a bit trite. I mean, he’s there all the time. And he’s still got that hair, right?”

“It is good hair,” Rory admits. Probably a sign she needs to switch to water. “Can we drop this, please? Nothing is going to happen.”

“If you say so, Gilmore.”

( Did you know that Paris has a thing for your hair? she texts after the fourth drink - in hot pink this time.

What can I say, she’s a woman of taste , he responds.)

(And if Paris shoots her a smug look from the bar - well, she’d drunk texted Doyle too, so she has no room to judge.)

———

Some nights, they do nothing more than sit in the darkened diner with leftover pie and a coffee or beer, chatting the night away. It feels like old times, back when they were just a couple of idiots. It’s nice to pretend for a couple hours that they’re still those teenagers, and not a single mom still trying to figure out where she’s going and an acclaimed author ignoring his next deadline. There’s an irony, she thinks, to the situation they find themselves in now - he, the man who has it all together, and her, an increasingly hot mess. It’s not how anyone would have expected they’d end up.

She mentions it to him one night, only for Jess to snort in amusement. “Ok, you are not a hot mess,” he tells her. “Not even close.”

“You sure about that? Because it sure feels like my life is a disaster most days.”

“I’ve seen hot mess Rory,” he tells her. “This isn’t it. You go big or go home. Last time you descended to a genuine hot mess, you stole a fucking yacht .”

“It wasn’t a yacht, it was a boat,” Rory mumbles in protest, even as she smiles behind her mug of decaf.

“It was a yacht, and you know it. You stole it from a marina that wouldn’t accept anything as mundane as a boat . I can break out the dictionary if you want, but you know I’m right. My point is ,” he plows ahead before she can interrupt, “you are not nearly the disaster you think you are right now. This is just… a stumbling block. You’ll figure it out.”

“I’ll have to,” Rory replies with a sly grin. “No yachts to steal in Stars Hollow.”

(As much as she may laugh it off, and he may let her, it strikes Rory’s heart in some particular way to hear the confidence Jess has in her, the way he’s so quick to assure her that she’s not entirely off track and adrift - that this is just a detour. There’s something different about hearing it from him, and not from her mother or grandmother. Jess always seems to be the one to steer her back on track - and this seems to be just another case.)

———

Rory has never been one of those obnoxious new year, new me! types, but she’s veering dangerously close this time. After a year of so much change and uncertainty, it feels like a chance to turn over a new leaf and rediscover so much of the direction that she’s lost.

Though it feels like she still might jinx it, it feels like things are finally coming back together. Chilton has contracted her to teach her class in the spring semester again, and she’s picked up some work writing book reviews for an online publication. That feels a little like coming back to her roots, in a way - she started at a little online setup, and now, after years of chasing glossy magazines and newsprint, she’s back here again. But the assignment is enjoyable, and money is money - especially since she’s got her eye on a small house for rent near where Lane lives, in a neighborhood of quaint bungalows. She’ll always be grateful to Luke for his generosity in letting her live above the diner for so long, but it’s not workable long term. Ivy is growing every day; while Rory’s homecoming back to Stars Hollow has brought into focus that this is the place she wants to raise her daughter, they both need more space. Ivy deserves her own room, maybe a backyard to run around in, and Rory deserves a door she can close while her baby is napping.

Most exciting of all, Rory finishes her book in early February. At least, in the moment, it feels most exciting of all - it’s been months of blood, sweat and tears, but it’s done . There’s a feeling of relief as the last period hits the page, even if she consciously knows there’s still so much editing to do. Writing the book, about her and her mom and the way they’ve lived, had been emotionally draining and emotionally freeing all at once, and calling it finished feels like an accomplishment like she hasn’t found professionally in so long.

The next time Jess drives up to town, Rory practically dances around the kitchen in anticipation, waiting for him to knock on the door. There had been so many people who supported her during this weird time in her life, and then when she decided to write this book, but Jess sits high on that list. The idea had originated with him, and he’s prodded and encouraged her the whole way; it feels right that he see it first, even if he’s made her promise this whole time to shop it around to bigger publishing houses instead of just asking him and Truncheon to publish it.

“Someone’s happy,” he comments when she opens the door with a huge grin. “Do I even want to know, or did your mom share another convoluted sex joke?”

“You’re going to want to hear this,” Rory promises. “And no, it’s not a joke. Sexual or otherwise. Close your eyes.”

Jess rolls his eyes first, but he complies and even smiles a bit. For full dramatic effect, Rory had printed the book onto real paper - dozens and hundreds of pages, all off the Gazette office’s ancient printer over the course of a day that she’ll probably wind up paying for in some way later. It’s worth it , to stand here with all those pages in a binder clip with a red pen. With a final flutter of nerves, she shoves it all into his chest.

Jess’ arms close around her offering on instinct; his eyes open to actually see what’s going on a second later. Looking at the pages in his arms, comprehension dawns slowly, and his own rare grin spreads. “You finished your book?”

“I finished the book!” Rory squeals, not caring nearly as much as she should about disturbing her currently quiet daughter.

Uncharacteristically, Jess sweeps her into a hug - a big, swooping thing where her feet leave the floor and he spins her about a bit. Those arm muscles, you know. “I’m so proud of you,” he says. “This is amazing . You’re a genius, Rory.”

“You haven’t read it yet,” she laughs as he sets her back down. “It could be absolute trash. I could have slandered your good name. I could have —”

“Yeah, but I know you didn’t. You’re Rory Gilmore. Obviously it’s going to be great.”

There’s a moment there, where he looks at her with pride and awe and so much shared joy that Rory thinks it would be so easy to lean up and kiss him. And maybe it’s the moment, the adrenaline, but she wants that. Not letting herself think too much, she starts inching upwards, as he starts inching down —

And then Ivy shrieks from her playpen - a happy sound, likely picking up on the joy bouncing around the room, but enough to shatter the moment.

“I’d better check on her,” Rory says weakly. “But go nuts. Tear it apart, tell me what I need to fix. I want to hear what you think.”

“Included the pen and all,” he tosses back. If Rory’s not mistaken, his voice is a little uneven. Did she do that? God, she did that. She can’t do that.

So, like so many times before - Rory bolts to avoid talking about what just almost happened.

(Even if it’s just to the other side of the room.)

———

“What should I do?” Rory begs her mom in the aftermath, pacing back and forth in the living room while Lorelai scrolls through online sewing patterns. She’s never been entirely confident in affairs of the heart anyways, having maneuvered herself into a mess a few too many times - with everyone but Jess, that is. Maybe that’s why she needs advice so badly; not only is there Ivy to consider, but her and Jess’ relationship is the last one she hasn’t outright screwed up yet.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Lorelai asks. Like a normal, reasonable person, who also maybe hasn’t had to think about this for the past ten years since she figured out her soulmate was right in front of her face. Rory’s never been so frustrated with Luke than in this moment, knowing he made the kind of commiseration she’s looking for impossible.

“I wanted to kiss him!”

“Then you should! Next time you see him and the moment is right!”

“But I can’t!”

Lorelai dramatically closes the laptop. “Are we circling? I feel like we’re circling. Why are you asking for advice if you know what you supposedly can or can’t do?” When that produces no useful response, she plows forward. “Okay, new tactic. Why can’t you?”

Rory sighs. “I just feel like… I’ve barely got things figured out, you know? And he does. I don’t want to fuck things up for him. My life right now is a mess .”

“Ok, I’m going to stop you right there. If he thinks you and Ivy being in his life is anything less than a damn miracle, then there’s your answer, that’s my opinion, do not pass go, do not move forward with this.”

“But it’s Jess.”

“Right, it’s Jess. And as much as it might pain for me to admit, I have gotten to know Jess a lot more in the past few years since he got his act together, and I have trouble believing he’s that particular brand of asshole. That guy’s been around, and happy to be here, since the moment you moved back home. Job or no job, kid or no kid.”

“But what do I do with that?” Rory whines.

Her mom sighs. “With full awareness of me, queen of avoidance, telling you this - you talk to him, Ror. I know you’ve got plenty of words, my darling daughter, my mini me, my legacy. Use them, for the love of all things holy. Comprende?” Rory nods, not capable of much else. Especially when the solution is supposedly so simple. “Cool. Now sit down and convince me that I have enough on my plate and don’t need to try making baby clothes even if they really are stinking cute and the whole matched ruffle trend in the kids stores drives me nuts.”

———

When Lorelai suggested that Rory and Jess talk, she probably imagined a calm, planned, adult conversation. For better or worse, though, this is Rory - that was never going to happen. So instead of easing into the topic carefully, she blurts out it out in the diner, the last night before Jess drives back to Philadelphia in the morning.

“I want to talk about what happened the other day,” she all but demands when Jess gets up to make more coffee.

His steps falter with the carafe in hand, before moving again to get fresh water. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I mean… we almost kissed.”

“I know. I was there.”

“So what does that mean? ”

That finally gets him to set the container down, bracing both hands on the counter. “I don’t know Rory. I don’t know. I’m not going to stand here and pretend I don’t feel something, because I do, but you are… You’ve been through a lot this year, and I don’t know that I want to be the guy that you latch onto because you’re lonely and I’m here. I don’t think I can do that.”

Rory is struck speechless for a moment at the very idea. She’d never even thought of that; these feelings have been percolating in her for so long, but she’s never given him any indication of that. Of course he thinks this is coming out of nowhere. “Jess…”

“If you want to be something, give this a second shot, yeah, of course. I’m there, I’m all in. I’m your guy. But I want you to be sure about that, Rory. I… I haven’t been yearning or pining or carrying a torch or any other bullshit you’d find in a romance novel, but I figured out a long time ago that I like my life with you in it. I like that I get you and you get me. I love your kid and I mostly like your mom. So I’m sure. But if this is just because I’m available and here —”

“But don’t you see? That’s part of the point!” Rory interrupts. “I mean, you’re making it sound like such a bad thing, but that fact that yeah, you’re here - that’s huge . And it’s not the whole reason I want to get into this, but - I mean, you’ve been supporting me through this book. You are entirely unphased by the fact that I have a kid with someone else who isn’t here. You’ve got this faith me I still don’t fully understand, and… Yeah, I want this. I want this because you’re a more mature version of that brilliant, sarcastic bastard I fell in love with as a teenager, but I want it too because you want to be here.” She finally pauses for breath. “Does that make sense?”

Jess nods silently. Nothing more.

Time to babble - by far the worst trait she inherited from her mom. “So… is any of that a deal breaker? Because honestly, I wouldn’t blame you, that was definitely a lot to dump all at once. But also, you should know what you’re getting into, you have almost fifteen years of experience listening to me word vomit, so if you didn’t think that’d continue —”

In the time that she runs her mouth, Jess crosses back to her side. “Would you just… shut up for two minutes?”

And he kisses her - takes her face between his hands and brings their mouths together, like she’s fantasized about more than she’d like to admit. It’s like falling back in time in the best way, relearning the shape of each other’s lips and the way they fit together. No chicken pecks here. Rory gladly twines her arms around his neck to pull him as close as possible as his hands readjust, one sliding back into her hair as the other drops to grasp at her hip. When he gently nips at her top lip, she can’t help but giggle - giggle, like a teenager again! - before diving back in to deepen the kiss. Like so many things with Jess, this feels right , like they’ve been leading back to it forever.

They finally break apart only when Rory becomes aware of the fact that they’re still in the closed diner, perfectly in view of the darkened street.

“As good as you remember?” she asks cheekily.

Jess leans his head down to rest his forehead against hers. “Better.” They take a moment just to enjoy the shared space before he continues. “Any regrets?”

Rory smiles. “None. I’m sure. I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”

And for the first time in forever - she knows that’s true.

#Gilmore Girls #literati #rory x jess #literati fanfic #literati ff #my writing #I have yearned for you (and I still do)#this is a pro-pining zone

19 notes · View notes

earstwo · 5 years ago

Note

hi hun, hope you are doing ok. what do you love the most about our beautiful adam?

hi friend! i am doing pretty well, thank you for checking in. i hope you’re doing okay and staying safe/healthy, etc.

as for your ask - i need you to know that i’ve been thinking about how to answer this question since you asked it last night bc i am nothing if not overdramatic. much like with ‘what is your favorite adam look’, there’s no way i could ever narrow it down to just one. it’s physically impossible for me.

as such, here are a few things i love most about adam driver. these are in no particular order and i will try to not gush…too much, but no promises:

- his sense of humor and the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. you’d think that for how serious and intense he is in general that he’d be like, a stick in the mud when it comes to comedy but he’s just not. i love the fact that he’s hosted SNL 3 times and just gets more and more ridiculous each time. he’s effortlessly funny in a way that we all we wish we could be.

- he’s very self-deprecating. he makes fun of himself constantly (”that’s a bad joke”, “i’ve derailed this interview and now i can’t remember your question”, “i would be jabba the hutt if i weren’t kylo ren”, etc), and he’s god AWFUL at taking compliments, even when he absolutely deserves them. it’s something that makes me want to bear hug him and tape little post-its on his mirror that say “you are the best human on the planet” so he stops ever thinking otherwise.

- i love how much he lights up when he’s comfortable in his environment. if you haven’t yet, watch the VICE mini documentary about AITAF and his interviews during the logan lucky press tour with channing tatum and you’ll see what i’m talking about. that adam is probably more who adam actually is IRL and it’s literally just…i don’t even know. he’s funny and giggly and silly and absolutely fucking magnetic in every way. it’s almost hard to watch.

- i’ve honestly never tried to put this into words before, so i might fail miserably, but here goes: adam is the kind of dude that i’d be into IRL (putting his looks aside here because duh) because he’s strong and smart and masculine in a way that’s never once felt toxic to me. i love when a guy is self-sufficient and independent. i love when people don’t talk just to talk. that’s something that i struggle with often and i admire so much about him because he thinks about what he says for a long time before he says it and is always thoughtful and considerate with the words he does choose, so they always carry so much more weight. it’s so fucking attractive to me it’s insane.

- i think it’s so fucking amazing how he’s able to fully transform himself into whatever role he’s playing. he disappears as adam and becomes his character. a perfect example of this is adam sackler, who was my intro to him as an actor. i thought for so long that adam driver just was adam sackler because that was long before i ever watched any interviews/learned about him as a human being. his ability to fully immerse himself in whatever character he’s playing is so incredible that i genuinely can’t see where he stops and his character begins when he’s acting. it’s so goddamn impressive.*side note: i fucking love how dedicated he is to each character he plays, too. doing all his own stunts as ben, learning to drive a fucking bus as paterson, losing 50 lbs for silence. that boy never does anything half-assed and it’s so fucking admirable.

- his work ethic. don’t judge me too much here, but sometimes when i’m feeling lazy about work or exercising or literally anything, i think about adam driver and how hard he works constantly and it motivates me to get my shit together. i will literally probably never meet this dude, but i still want to be the type of person he’d be friends with and therefore try to always work harder than anyone else in the room. lmao i’m such a mess

- i promise i didn’t intentionally save his looks for the end of this post, and i feel like that’s very telling of how wonderful i think he is as a human, BUT IN ANY CASE, he is obviously incredibly handsome. that goes without saying. people that say he’s ‘weird hot’ can take a long walk off a short bridge, because no. he’s just hot. not ‘unconventionally’ or ‘nontraditionally’ hot. JUST HOT. beautiful. gorgeous. rugged. dark and tall in every way that a heartthrob should be. i love his crooked teeth and his ears because they make him more human; if he didn’t have them it would honestly just be too much. he’s already like a fucking greek god walking among us, we need these little human imperfections (can we even call them that?) to remind us that he’s not actually adonis. i love his hair. i love his eyes and how he can convey 19389294 things with them in mere seconds. i love his stupid half-smiles and smirks. don’t even get me sTARTED ON THE WINKING. men winking in general is something that sends me - watching adam do it had me on the fucking floor gasping for air and wondering when death was going to finally take me.

- HONORABLE MENTIONS: *he always signs autographs or makes time to go talk to fans*he always turns conversations regarding his talent around so that someone else is receiving the praise instead of him (see: him complimenting noah baumbach’s marriage story script) *the thing with ben affleck’s son and how good he is with kids in general. christ on a cracker, as if i needed more reasons to be obsessed with him*dogs love him too and that’s just not a thing we should take lightly*the fact that he’s not on social media at all and actually hates it*HIS VOICE. JESUS FUCK. HOW COULD I FORGET THAT VOICE??phew, okay -

i’m not gonna sit here and act like you asked for this, because you didn’t. you asked for me to tell you what i love most and i’ve written you an essay about ALL THE THINGS i love. and i also hope you know that i really did have to pull back here and stop myself from piling more things onto this.

TLDR: adam driver is a devastatingly talented, humble, intelligent, gorgeous, and kind dude. he’s everything that i think a ‘celebrity’ should be and even though i know he doesn’t really care about this kind of stuff, i hope he knows how inspiring he is in so many ways. he’s gotten me to write and create again by simply being my muse and he’s gotten me to be more thoughtful and intentional with my words and actions because of the level of commitment that he gives to everything in his life. i don’t actually know if you can love someone you’ve never met or spoken to, but if you can, i love him. a lot.

also, i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i miss him and hope he’s doing okay. knowing what i know about him, he’s probably enjoying the time he’s got to sleep and spend with his family but also probably itching to go back to work. whatever the situation may be, as long as that boi is safe and healthy, i’m gucci.

#you didn't ask for this but you're getting it anyway #i will understand if you never come into my inbox again lmao #you can't just cCASUALLY ASK ME WHAT I LOVE ABOUT MY FAVORITE HUMAN IN THE UNIVERSE AND EXPECT ME TO GIVE YOU LIKE A ONE SENTENCE ANSWER #it was never going to happen #anonymous #answered #adam driver #adam

51 notes · View notes

impatentpending · 6 years ago

Text

Deceit being a flirt

So, in response to this post about Deceit being a flirt in the new video, @king-cookiex said

And I really gotta thank you, because that gave me the opportunity to go through the video with a fine-toothed comb and pull out all the times Deceit was being a flirt for those who don’t see the world through shipping goggles

Under the cut, because this gets looonnggg

Moceit:

“I don’t know what you mean.” / “What? I don’t understand you; I don’t know anything about words!” He makes a dad joke here, communicating to Patton in the way he most enjoys

Unnecessary physical contact

Also, giving Patton more butterfingers

“Oh, honey”

“Life is like a piñata!” “Colorful and full of stuff that makes you happy?” “…SURE"

Loceit:

The Loceit Wave. that is all.

Actually no. That is not all. Look at the smirk. Look at that coquettish little wave. Look at him posing. Don’t try to tell me this isn’t a grade-A flirt right here.

“That’s kind of an oversimplification, isn’t it? You see to a lot more than ensuring that Thomas is thinking logically.”

“I know [insisting you join] is what I said, but Patton insisted we leave you alone.”

Asking Logan’s explicit opinion, which, as we know, is what this monologging boy Craves

“Winning the callback, is that how that should be phrased?” *Deceit laughs* “Yes.” - Validating him instead of making fun of him!!

“Go ahead, Logan” - continuing to let Logan share his knowledge and air his views!

also, he looks insanely affectionate right here, looking at Logan. I’m just saying.

Anxceit:

Based on the set-up of the court room, he’s smoldering at Virgil here

Not really flirting, but the way he knows Virgil enough to perfectly imitate him and quote “Weddings are outdated, expensive pageantry” exactly?? This boy is Obsessed with our lovely emo

“It takes a liar to know a liar.” To Deceit, lies are a sign of intelligence and self-preservation, so, however twisted it may be, this is a complement from him

heart eyes, babes. Heart Eyes

Roceit (oh my gosh, so much Roceit):

just his Tone when he said “Roman, enough!” He sounded like a stereotypical cheerleader asking her boyfriend to ‘quit being so cute, omg’

Also “Roman, please don’t tell me how to do my job better!” He’s literally asking for Roman’s help here, and we know our prince loves rescuing damsels in distress

also, just the complete and utter attentiveness he’s looking at Roman with here

Feeding Roman’s ego once more by being so enthused about the Aunt Patty in the hospital excuse

“Wow, guys, it’s so cool how you never listen to Roman.” DEFENDING HIS BOYFRIEND

“Now, could we have the Honorable” *suggestive look* justice Roman read off the charges please.” - To which Roman laughs and is clearly flattered

“No lying, Deceit.” *Roman laughs* “Come on. Even if it’s funny. Don’t.” *Chuckles some more* “Don’t. Don’t.” *Laughs and holds up gavel* “ah hah, I might. Don’t do it.” - So much about this exchange seems like two friends joking around, and I’d say this is definitely Roman’s version of flirty banter.

Also, Roman canonically has said he thinks Deceit is funny

“Your honor, will you control the one angry man over there?” *Roman cracks up* “Oh, I thought you’d like that one.” - He knows Roman’s sense of humor!!!

Also, he looks so pleased, just to have made Roman laugh

*To Patton* “Roman?? It’s ‘your honor’ to you.” - Using nicknames and constantly elevating Roman’s importance, which our Prince just Melts for

Honestly, he just has this Tone whenever he says ‘your honor’

“OH YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU” - checkmate, game over, he dropped the L-bomb.

He’s just so Extra in praising Roman during the questioning

Immediately getting mad at Patton after Pat flirts with Roman by calling him the world’s handsomest prince. “Sssuck up!”

The look he gives Roman when Roman says someone missing his wedding wouldn’t affect him

I literally have that saved as ‘proud of his BF’ in my laptop. Don’t tell me those aren’t heart eyes.

Deceit: “And a dream come true” *Roman sighs wistfully*

“Well, Roman wants me to win."

DLAMP:

trying to impress them all with the butterfingers trick

Making them all say “I Do” in preparation for their future wedding

“I don’t want Thomas to be disadvantaged in a world where you can die for not following the laws made in the name of a lie.” He’s trying so hard to protect all of them!

*To Thomas, and, by extension, all of them* “Oh, sweetie”

“I’M TRYING TO TEACH YOU A LESSON, BUT IT’S LITERALLY IMPOSSIBLE” - Really, this whole episode, he’s just trying to do what he truly thinks is best for Thomas and the other sides. All he wants is to help and protect them, and, if that’s not flirting, I don’t know what is.

TL;DR - Deceit is the mind palace’s biggest flirt, he’s in love with all of them, and DLAMP is canon. Thanks for coming to my TED talk

#thomas sanders #DLAMP #deceit sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #loceit #patceit #moceit #anxceit #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides #ts spoilers #selfishness v selflessness

3K notes · View notes

ambersky0319 · 5 years ago

Text

Love procrastinating on my work due tomorrow to do things like this-

This is what, the third post I've done in this style? Should i start tagging them as something specifically cause I don't intend to stop? Also sudden love for Roman ships just appeared-

Roceit

Dee plays Stardew Valley whenever he feels really tense; Roman hates that he gets less attention but always ends up enjoying watching Dee play

Serenade one another all the time

Have this game thing where one of them is doing something, could be out in public or when they're just alone, one of them starts off either playing a tune they both know or singing a duet. The other HAS to sing/join in otherwise they go with no kisses or cuddles for the entire week

One time Dee and Logan were happily debating a topic and Roman just comes up and starts singing "Love Is an Open Door" and Dee really really wanted to not join in but he also really really wanted cuddles that night

Logan constantly brings it up but shhhhh

Pat and Virge don't really know the two are together yet, or that Remus and Logan are QPP so they all keep on the down low

Roman loves bringing Dee to the Imagination for the night and just letting their minds run wild

He stops telling lies bc lies physically hurt Dee and he really really doesn't wanna hurt him. So he worked on it and while the occasional lie slips through its not so bad that Dee feels pain

Guess who proposes?

Deceit

Cause while Roman loves all things romance this boy is insecure as fuck and was so unsure if Dee was ready despite them having dozens of conversations about marriage in the past

Dee was tired of waiting around for Roman to ask too

Roman absolutely cries the entire night while holding Dee, a bright smile on his face

Dee cries the first time Roman says he loves him, because he just couldn't fathom that Roman actually loved him

Roman cried the first time Dee said he loved him because he knew how much the words meant to Dee, and he felt so honored

They both be sensitive boys yknow let them cuddle and cry happy tears dammit

Remus is Roman's best man(Dee and Roman argued who was gonna ask Remus to be their best man bc brother and best friend of them both and Dee lost) and bc of that Logan got to be Dee's best man(not that Dee's complaining, he absolutely loves Logan platonically)

Virgil and Patton are also invited, cause at this point they can't do much to stop them

They're wary at first but at the wedding as both sides say their vows Pat and Virge come around when they see how much Dee and Ro love each other

In a human au they have a pretty big family, turns out Dee is great with kids and Roman adores how creative they are so they adopt a group 6 of siblings, plus a set of twins a bit after that

Roman grows his hair out and Dee loves it, and Roman lets him braid his hair

Dee is surprisingly very strong but also fairly short, so at first when Roman teased Dee about his height Roman ended up having a gay panic as Deceit just easily lifted him

Romile/Princani

Roman asks Emile whenever he sees Em in an extremely cheery mood/looking as if he's about to combust if Em has watched any new shows

Emile loves this because Roman just sits and listens with this fond smile as Emile rambles about a new series he discovered

They were high school sweethearts that met sophomore year and got together as juniors; however their senior year they did break up for a few months

It was at a low point in both their lives and they realized trying to maintain a relationship really really wasn't working. They stayed friends and after they both got through some stuff tried again

People thought they were a couple long before they actually started dating

Roman liked wearing dresses or skirts cause they were definitely cute and if anyone ever wanted to give him a hard time they had to go through Emile

No one ever wanted to fight Emile either cause Emile knew exactly how to hurt people, both physically and mentally, and he hit them hard

Roman always enjoyed seeing Emile just verbally destroy someone that tried to make fun of Roman(calling him some slurs that I personally don't wanna include)

After high school they rented an apartment together cause they were going to the same university- Emily majoring in psychology and Roman in history(as well as trying to get a degree to become a teacher)

They had three times a month days where they'd just avoid each other and do whatever; it gives them some space and some interesting stories to share the next day

They also go out for dates twice a month, even if it's just going to the park for a picnic or something

While Roman uses standard sweet pet names Emile uses ones from movies/shows he and Roman like to watch

Roman calls his students(he teaches at a middle school) his kids, and the kids love getting Roman to ramble about his boyfriend- an easy task

They help Roman propose to Emile actually on an end of the year field trip to the park

Emile had agreed to be a chaperone and the kids had made signs and everything and y e a h Emile said yes of course

Now they get Roman to ramble about his husband, and they absolutely love hearing about Emile. After the wedding Roman talks more and more about Em with his hands, too

Emile's patients also notice that Emile has an extra bounce to him when they seem him next and do notice the rings(they don't ask about it cause Emile has stated he doesn't wish to tell them about his personal life but almost each patient congratulated him)

They adopt two children and when they're both around their sixties Roman and Emile retire, buying a house in the countryside

79 notes · View notes

fearsmagazine · 4 years ago

Text

EXODUS - Review

DISTRIBUTOR: Gravitas Ventures

SYNOPSIS: The rapture has happened. Now in a post-rapture world Connor is an enforcer who prevents defections from the struggling populace. He discovers a VHS-tape that proves the existence of a portal that some claim leads to paradise. A chance encounter with a captured AWOL citizen inspires him to reconsider his allegiance to the town. Leaving behind his sick brother, he chooses to defect from his decaying hometown and its authoritarian regime to chase his visions of the door. Relying on a tracker, his prophetic dreams, and his gut, Connor makes it into the lawless countryside before being captured by his hometown's best hunter, The Superior. However, rather than return him to the town she has her own plans to get to the door. Connor forges a shaky allegiance with The Superior, agreeing to guide her to the Portal if she'll let him live. Always sleeping with one eye open, they embark on the road to the door, honoring their partnership as long as the other remains useful.

REVIEW: In some respects EXODUS is a much better and more satisfying narrative about what might happen after the rapture as opposed to the HBO series “The Leftovers.” For those of you not in the know, the rapture (aka judgement day) is a biblical event where all those deemed worthy by a spiritual entity (god or his angles) will be taken to paradise or up to heaven. The details vary depending on who you ask and their religious affiliation. EXODUS tells the story of those felt behind.

Director Logan Stone and screenwriter Andrew Arcos do an exceptional job of crafting this spiritual journey of this character who is left in this dire situation and then set upon by all these different elements that make him question his life and beliefs. He journeys through this post-rapture landscape that looks like the dystopian worlds created by filmmaker Terry Gilliam, but lacking any semblance of comedy. It’s an interesting and complex character arch. Connor begins in a place where it is technology that starts him and guides him on his journey, but ultimately he must rely on visions and signs. Along the way he meets other searches, and the view begins to question not only if they are being honest about what is guiding them, but is Connor being honest with himself. What is driving Connor and what does the door truly represent to him. It’s interesting how his interest and curiosity when he was in the town becomes an obsession driving him to the point of madness when in the wasteland. The filmmakers offer no easy answers or a simple conclusion. And with some many visual and narrative metaphors in this thought provoking narrative it will absolutely ignite conversations long after viewing.

In addition to the plot and visual stylings, some of which seem reminiscent of director George Miller’s work, what makes EXODUS such a compelling experience is the talent cast. These are such rich and complex characters. As Connor encounters them the filmmakers dwell on each long enough so that they contribute to the overall fabric of the story and influence his journey. Each of them is on their own spiritual journey and we can sense their pain and desperation. The growing jewel in this cast is Jimi Stanton. He presents this multifaceted character of Connor and the emotional roller-coaster ride he takes. There are moments when we witness his pain and frustration where we want to look away, but are fixated by his humanity coming from such a dark place. It truly is an amazing performance.

When we think about all the horrors that organized have done and the potential of what they can still do, EXODUS is a perfect example of how the power of belief can drive an individual to madness. The viewer is told nothing more than the rapture occurred, no details. We are presented with the bleak consequences of that event and that people are still trying to survive. Much like Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” it is the tale of others, the video tape, that ignites the spark. It is a cautionary tale that needs to be passed on, to be told, and leaving the viewer questioning and horrified in its wake.

CAST: Jimi Stanton, Janelle Snow, Charles Andrew Gardner, Keith Jardine, James McKinney, Hannah Kloepfer, Zachary Gossett, Dan Gonón, Grace Barnes, David Leonard, and Jilanne Marie Klaus. CREW: Director - Logan Stone; Screenplay - Logan Stone & Andrew Arcos; Producers - Hannah Kloepfer, James McKinney, & Lawrence Pinto; Cinematographer - AJ Young; Score - Adam Robl & Shawn Sutta; Editor - Logan Stone; Production Designer - James McKinney; Visual Effects - Tim Van Niekerk. OFFICIAL: N.A. FACEBOOK : N.A. TWITTER:.N.A. TRAILER: https://youtu.be/hu2GerW0vlU` RELEASE DATE: VOD on March 19th, 2021

**Until we can all head back into the theaters our “COVID Reel Value” will be similar to how you rate a film on digital platforms - 👍 (Like), 👌 (It’s just okay), or 👎 (Dislike)

Reviewed by Joseph B Mauceri

#film review #movie review #exodus #sci-fi #science fiction #gravitas ventures #logan stone #jimi stanton #janelle snow #joseph mauceri #joseph b mauceri

1 note · View note

mycatshuman · 5 years ago

Text

I Put A Spell On You

Chapter 1 Come Little Children

Pairings: Prinxiety, (I'm sorry, but Prinxiety is my jam, logicality, and Remile.)

Word count: 2,224

Warnings: mentions of fire, hanging, people being turned into cats, sickness, witches, please let me know if I missed any.

Masterlist

I Put A Spell On You Masterlist | Next

So....its been a while since I've posted any new writing....that would be Because I've been working on this and procrastinating. Sorry about that.

Thank you so very much to @civilsounds17 and @icequeenoriginal for being such amazing people, im gonna cry. You to are freaking angels! 💚💜💚💜💚💜💚

🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻

Once upon a time…… in an old land filled with threats from the natives whose land was stolen from them and the fear of wicked humans whose souls were sold to the devil for power, a young man awoke to nothing. Well, he hadn't really awoken to nothing, but nothing had caused him to awaken. The young man looked around to find his brother's bed empty. "Binx?" He called out before climbing out of bed. "Binx!" He yelled out again, however his shout was drowned out by the soft lull of a musical voice wafting through the air.

"Come, little children, I'll take thee away, into a land of enchantment…"

The young man felt his eyes blow wide as he scrambled outside and called out again, his heart thundered in his chest. "Binx!"

"Come, little children, the times come to play…." The enchanting voice continued as it began to grow fainter with distance.

The young man frantically looked around and saw no sign of his brother. As his gaze wandered toward the sky, he noticed a billowing purple smoke spilling over the top of the trees from somewhere in the woods across the field. "They conjure!" He exclaimed and rushed off to call out for help before rushing into the forest. The man managed to tumble down every hill leading down to the witches' cottage before landing at the bottom of the steps leading to the front door. He shook off the pain before wading through the creek to catch a glimpse into the witch's home.

Inside the cottage, a young, sickly child sat carefully in a chair as three young men went about their business. One of the men had light blonde hair that sat atop his head in joyful curls. He wore a long dress dyed with midnight blues and blacks that seemed to shimmer as he moved from a cauldron to a stand on which sat a thick leather-bound book. He had black-framed glasses that sat firmly atop his sharp nose as he peered down at whatever foul spells lay written on the page. Another of the witches stood off to the side, gathering ingredients for their potion. He too, wore a dress, although his design was certainly different from his brother's. It's colors consisted of blacks and whites and greys. His fiery red hair made up for the lack of color in his clothes. He also had glasses, although the lenses were darkened to the point where one could not see the eyes behind them. The last witch was an ethereal beauty. He had straight hair of pitch black that fell over his stormy eyes. His pale skin was as white as snow and his dress was made of midnight blacks and purples swirled throughout the design of the dress. He stood in the back by the young child.

The young man peeking in the window knew of these witches all too well. Everyone in Salem knew of them, but they could never get any proof. But now the Sanderson Brothers would finally meet the noose.

The young man slipped in the dirt and all the witches inside turned to look at the window before one of them, the oldest, moved to the window to look outside. The young man hid against the side of the house as he waited for the witch to turn back inside.

The witch in the window, the one dressed in lots of purples, grimaced at the sunlight. "Oh, look. Another glorious morning." He paused. "Makes me sick!" He spat before closing the shutters and turning back inside.

The young man quickly found a way in through a small window in the loft and crawled to the edge to watch the witches again, searching for the right time to grab his brother and run. The young man grimaced as he heard a cough rack through his brother's body.

"Virgil!"

The witch in purple turned to his brother in blues.

"Yes, Logan?"

"We must finish the potion so that we may help our guest of honor."

Virgil nodded and he joined his brothers as they read through the ingredients.

"Remy!"

The witch in dark blacks and whites jolted. "What?" He asked, clearly cranky.

Logan raised an eyebrow and shot a pointed look down at the spellbook atop the pedestal he stood in front of. Remy rolled his eyes and gilded over as it seemed he was somehow too mystical to walk. "I seem to notice that Virgil isn't helping," he comments as he leans over to cast a small glance at the book.

Virgil hissed. "I helped the child here."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Stop it. Leave Virgil alone, Remy, he hath done his chore." Remy huffed.

"It's not like I won't help anymore," Virgil muttered.

Logan turned back to the book. It was old. Frayed around the edges. He pulled open the cover and flipped through the pages until he came to the page he was looking for. "Here it is," adjusting his glasses as he read out from the book. "'Bring to a full rolling bubble. Then add two drops of oil of boil," Remy sighs and turns to add the ingredient to the cauldron.

"Add a dash of fox and one dead man's toe." Logan contemplated for a few moments. "Make it a fresh one."

"Dead man's toe! Dead man's toe!" Virgil sang as he danced around the cottage in an attempt to both annoy his brothers and hopefully get a small laugh out of Binx. The hidden teen frowned slightly as he heard his brother let out a joyful giggle. The sound brought a small smile to the witches' faces.

Remy carried a bowl of toes over to the cauldron and sniffed one before dropping it in. "Fresh one." Then he turns and tosses one at Virgil who lets out a muffled shriek. Binx giggles but gets cut off by coughs wracking his thin body. All witches and young men hiding in lofts freeze and grimace as the sound makes their hearts twist painfully.

Logan cleared his throat and went back to the book, this time, muttering to himself. "Newt saliva."

Remy frowned as a smell hit his nose. He turned to Logan. "I smell a child."

Logan frowned and turned to his brother. "And what doest thou call that?!" He exclaimed.

Remy frowned. "A child, but-"

Logan shook his head. "No buts', we must finish this." He turned back to the cauldron. "'Tis ready for tasting," Logan said as he dipped a spoon into the potion. He turned quickly to face Binx, his brothers coming up behind him to watch. "Alright, child, open your mouth."

The young man in the loft shot up. "No!" He cried out, fearing for his brother's life.

The three witches jumped and looked up in surprise to find the young teen in their home. "A boy!" Virgil exclaimed.

Logan groaned. "Get him!"

Remy and Virgil shared a wicked glance. "I knew I smelled a boy!" Remy cried out as he tried to grab him. But the young man managed to reach the cauldron and spilled the potion.

"The potion!" Logan shrieked.

"Binx!" The young man tries to reach his brother but Logan blasts him with electricity and he drops. "Do you-"

Virgil taps Logan's shoulder, interrupting him. "Logan, look." Logan follows Virgil's finger as it points at Binx a glowing aura surrounding him. "He drank the potion," Virgil whispers.

Logan grins. "Okay, brothers, prepare thyselves. 'Tis time we prove once and for all magic can be used for good." The three witches surround the young child and sucked the disease from Binx's aura before blowing it out to dissolve and burn away.

The young man watches as his younger brother hops up from his chair and runs over to him with a wide smile. "John! I don't feel icky anymore!"

John blinks and lifts his hand to find his brother's skin no longer clammy with illness. "'Tis unbelievable!" He exclaims. He turns to the witches with wide eyes. "I can't thank you enough for saving my brother!" The three witches smile slightly.

"We simply wished to help. Binx is the only of all the children of Salem to actually be kind to us."

John suddenly felt extremely guilty. "I'm so sorry." His eyes widened. "Oh no! The town! They're coming! And they're bringing the rope!"

The witches suddenly became frantic. "This is the first time we tried that potion! We don't know how long it'll last!" Virgil cried.

Remy frowned.

John felt guilt twist in his gut. It was his fault these kind witches would be killed. "I-" he cleared his throat, the witches spinning around to look at him. "I'm sorry. If there is anything you can do to promise my brother a long life, please, do it." The witches shared a glance.

"As a cat?"

John blinked. "Uh, I guess?"

The witches squared their shoulders. "Twist the bones and bend the back," Logan started.

"Itch-it-a-cop-it-a, Mel-a-ka-mys-tic-a," Remy and Virgil sang.

"Trim them of their baby fat."

"Itch-it-a-cop-it-a, Mel-a-ka-mys-tic-a."

"Give them fur black as black. Just.."

"Like.."

"This."

The three witches held their hands over the two brothers who began to shrink down into two black cats. Virgil leans forward and pets them. "This way you two can spend as many years as you can together. You clearly love each other very much. It would be a shame to break you two apart."

The witches jump as a sudden pound at the front door startled them. The town's people have arrived. The three brothers rush forward to hold the door. Logan whispers something to the cats. "My brothers and I will act as if we truly are evil witches. We are going to act as if we sucked the life out of you two. I'm sorry. But it's all part of my plan." He sent a small shaky smile. "We will see each other again."

"Open! Witches! Sons of Darkness!! Open this door!"

"Witches?" Remy calls through the door. "There be no witches here, sir."

Virgil's shared a look with his brothers to confirm what he is about to do. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He was not ready to die. He was young. They all were. But the rumors spread and they poisoned the minds of everyone around them.

"We're just three brothers spending a quiet evening at home!" Logan shouts.

"Sucking the lives out of little children!" Virgil cries out, his heart withering inside his chest.

🎃👻🎃👻

Virgil, Logan, and Remy stood atop three barrels, itchy rope pulling at their necks. Nooses. They were going to be hanged. In front of them stood the mob of angry townspeople, one of which holding the brothers' spellbook. "Logan Sanderson?" A man from the angry mob called out. This was the father of the two boys turned cats who sat a little bit away on a rock, watching with heavy hearts.

"Yes?" Logan asked, his black and blue dress dangling over the edges of his barrel.

"I will ask thee one final time."

Logan merely raised an eyebrow.

"What hast thou done with my sons, John and Thackary?"

"John and Thackary?" Logan asked, feigning ignorance and wickedness.

"Answer me!" The father shouts as he holds his wife close. "Well, you see, I don't know. Cats got my tongue." Logan forces a laugh along with his brothers both at his feigned malevolence and the pun.

Virgil twisted his neck. "This is terribly uncomfortable."

"Brothers," Logan starts. "Sing."

The three witches stood still and opened their mouths and let out a simple note. "Ahhh."

The mob of angry villagers shuffled with fear. The father of the boys turned cat shouted out to the crowd, almost as if he was their leader. "Cover your ears! Listen to them not!" All around the people covered their ears. The man holding the spellbook threw the book down to cover his ears. The book landed at Logan's feet and flipped open to reveal a spell to him.

Logan sighed. Time to play the part some more. "Fools! All of you! My-" Logan forced himself not to choke. "Ungodly book speaks to you." Fear spilled through the crowd of townspeople, seeping into their hearts, unaware of just how misplaced their fear was. "On All Hallow's Eve when the moon is round, a virgin shall summon us from under the ground. Ohhh! We shall be back! And the lives of all the children shall be mine!" Logan cried out.

The three brothers felt fear stab at their hearts. They were moments away from death. And they had to be deceitful in their final moments. They all forced themselves to continue to look forward as they sent each other one final "goodbye" and "I love you" through their mental connection.

The signal was given and the barrels beneath the brothers were kicked out from under them. Virgil's heart leaped into his throat as he struggled to breathe. The two Binx brothers tried to distract themselves from the three brothers by rubbing against their father's leg as one final goodbye.

Mr. Binx shot a disgusted glance down at them. "Away! Away beast!"

The two brothers turned cats let out a mournful meow.

🎃👻🎃👻

"Poor Thackary and John Binx. Neither their mother or father nor anyone else ever knew what became of them, those 300 years ago."

🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻🎃👻

Let me know what you think?

Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist

92 notes · View notes

trashpanda-remus · 5 years ago

Text

Love and War: Chapter One

Abusive Boyfriend AU inspired by @do-you-promise !! I reccomend checing out zeir blog/content I love it so much!

Warnings: All sides sympathetic! Domestic abuse! Violence and potential (very mild) gore in future chapters!

Description : Everything started out perfect with Wayde, in the comfort of Thomas' head, Roman wrote sonnets, Patton gushed, even Virgil calmed and smiled. Wayde made them happy, made life better. At the start.

So nobody, including and especially Thomas, had any clue as to what to do when it started to crumble. When it began to hurt.

The first sign that something had been off was Deceit. Not his presences, but their frequency and his amount of contribution. Even odder, how often even Patton agreed with him.

There had been a collective epiphany the night Thomas woke up at 8 p.m. on Joan's couch after a particularly draining writing session.

It wasn't that Wayde particularly disliked Joan, he had told this to Thomas this seceral times, he just had some jealousy problems add he promised he'd get better. Especially after he suggested Thomas work less and Joan ripped him a new one.

Virgil immediately appeared. Neither him nor Thomas could breathe. Wayde had gotten really mad last time Thomas spent so much time at Joan and Talyn's, what if this time he leaves him. Oh, God if he finds out...

Deceit's theme was surprisingly comforting.

"There's always the option to... not tell him." Deceit's voice lacked its typical confidence, Thomas' stress getting to him as well.

"But if he finds out that Thomas lied -" Virgil cut himself off, shaking his head. "Game over for sure."

Logan rolled his eyes. "There is no reason to fear reaction from Wayde," Logic himself reasoned. "Though he has a history of... eccentricity, he wouldn't end his relationship with Thomas over something so trivial as where he is for a few extra hours?"

"But what if he does?!" Roman sighed. "You know he's in a rocky place right now, what if this is the final straw?!"

"Well, judging by the last four 'final straws', as you put it, he and Thomas would resume their relationship within three weeks at most."

"But that's three whole weeks alone, Logan!" Patton's voice sounded heartbroken. The recent bumps in the relationship had been getting to him, especially as of late."Thomas loves Wayde, and he loves Thomas!"

The room went quiet especially at Morality"s next statement.

"Maybe it'd be... better if he didn't know," when the group gasped, he continued to justify. "I mean he will know that Thomas was at Joan's house, but how long he was there?"

It was hard to hear Patton say that. Logan chimed in.

"You do realize that this constitutes as a lie of omission, correct?" Patton nodded.

"Well, Logan, sometimes it's different with boyfriends," Patton chirped. "We don't want Wayde to be angry with Joan and Thomas to get hurt!"

"Why would Wayde hurt Thomas?" Logan was getting annoyed. "He has never been shown to be physical with Thomas before, nor made any indication he would. "

"He means leave, Logan!" Virgil was almost slipping into Temptest Tongue. "If Wayde finds out, he may leave! He's left for smaller..."

Deceit clapped his hands. "So, we've decided! What shall Thomas tell him?"

"He was at the store?" Roman suggested, they all shook their heads. "Thomas can grab a quick lunch and tell Wayde that he went out with a group!"

That was good for everyone. Wayde was strict, but he tended to be okay when Thomas was with a group.

"Why are you so worried about this?" Logan was still confused. "Wayde isn't Thomas' parent, Thomas is a grown man!"

He went unheard as the group decided.

💚🖤💚🖤💚🖤

And then he kept showing up.

"We can't let him tell Joan the truth!" Roman defended. "You know how they reacted when he tried to keep Thomas from posting as often, if they knew that it was Wayde's idea they'd never just let Thomas skip!"

"And we don't want Joan interfering again, last time they did, Wayde didn't talk to Thomas for a week!" Virgil's eyeshadow had been darkening more and more. Logan was growing concerned.

"Does Thomas even want to miss the convention?" Deceit asked, confused as to where he stood. What to preserve, Thomas' relationship or his career?

"He wants to make Wayde happy and secure!" Patton said, his voice peppy on a way that had to be fake. "Sometimes you need to make sacrifices in a relationship!"

"But Thomas' fans are not a part of this relationship, and he promised them he would attend," Logan spoke up despite the fact he was being listened to less and less.

"Of course I want to keep my fans happy!" Thomas defended himself, though his face fell. "But... Wayde isn't in a good place right now, what if he does something bad while I'm gone?"

"You are not Wayde's guardian, Thomas," Logan sighed. "Though it is honorable to want to keep him happy, Wayde is a grown man in charge of his own actions. You can think about you sometimes."

Thomas nodded, looking conflicted, Virgil spoke up. "But what if he leaves while you're away? What if that's all the time needed for him to realize that he doesn't want you anymore?"

"Then he doesn't deserve Thomas in the first place!" Logan declared but he was talked over once again by Roman.

"We can't be alone again, Logan!"

The room paused. Deceit had barely said a word and yet in moments Thomas was picking up his phone, telling Joan that he couldn't make it to the panel today.

Sorry, Wayde is sick :/ -TS

Joan's concerned replies churned Logan's stomach, even worse when he saw Patton was relieved.

Something was wrong.

54 notes · View notes

creepingsharia · 5 years ago

Text

The 9/11 Hijackers Last Steps – A Timeline

9/10/01—At the Pink Pony Nude Theater in Daytona Beach, FL, a man with a Middle-Eastern accent says “Tomorrow America will see bloodshed.” They leave a Koran behind...

(originally posted on Creeping Sharia on September 10, 2009)

Know your enemy, and never under-estimate him.

We pick up the timeline of the 9/11 terrorists, and hijackers to-be, from the assassination of Northern Alliance commander Ahmed Massoud on Sep. 9, 2001 – however the timeline begins well prior to that in the 1990’s and goes further than what we posted here. Excerpts from Free Republic.

Annotated Timeline of the 9/11 Hijackers for Researchers

various | 5/13/2002 | compiled from published sources

“We love death. The US loves life. That is the big difference between us.” — Osama Bin Laden

THE HIJACKERS FLIGHT 11 Mohammed ATTA (11) (also known as Mohammed al-Amir) Born September 1, 1968 in Kafr al Sheikh, Egypt. ATTA grows up in Cairo with his middle-class family. Abdulaziz ALOMARI (11) Saudi Arabian. Little is known about him. Walid AL-SHEHRI (11) From Khamis Mushayt in Saudi Arabia. Former teacher, who left his job allegedly to consult an Islamic holy man about his brother’s mental illness. Satam AL-SUQAMI (11) Born June 28, 1976. Saudi Arabian. Islamic-law-school student at King Fahd University in Riyadh. College roommate of MOQED. Wail ALSHEHRI (11) Born 7/31/73. Brother of Walid. Former phys-ed teacher who left his job because of “mental illness.”

FLIGHT 175 Marwan AL-SHEHHI (175) Born in United Arab Emirates on 5/9/78. Hamza ALGHAMDI(175) Born 11/18/80. From Beljurashi in southern Saudi Arabia. Was working in a “humiliating” job as a stockboy in a housewares shop when he was recruited for the jihad. Ahmed ALGHAMDI(175) From Beljurashi in southern Saudi Arabia. Fayez Rashid Ahmed Hassan Al-Qadi BANIHAMMAD (175-4) (aka Fayez Ahmed) Citizen of United Arab Republic. Mohand ALSHEHRI (175) Former student at the Imam Muhammed Ibn Saud Islamic University in Abha, Saudi Arabia for one semester.

FLIGHT 77 Hani HANJOUR (77)– Saudi Arabian Born August 13, 1972. Son of a wealthy businessman from the wealthy al-Faisaliyah section of Taif. Khalid ALMIDHAR (77) Saudi Arabian. Veteran Al-Qaeda operative about whom little is known. Majed MOQED (77) Saudi Arabian. Law student at the King Fahd University in Riyadh. The son of a head of the Baniauf tribe from Annakhil near Medina. Sometimes listed as the third “logistics” person after ALMIDHAR and Nawaq ALHAZMI. Nawaq ALHAZMI (77) “He told me once that his father had tried to kill him when he was a child. He never told me why, but he had a long knife scar on his forearm,” said an acquaintance. Brother of a police chief in the coastal town of Jizan. Salem ALHAZMI (77) Saudi.

FLIGHT 93 Ziad al-JARRAH (93) Born in Al Marj, Lebanon May 11, 1975. The son of a civil servant and a schoolteacher. Educated in a Catholic school in Beirut. Ahmed ALNAMI (93) Born December 1977. Saudi, from the town of Abha. Former law student at the King Khaled University Islamic Law School in Abha. Ahmed Ibrahim AL-HAZNAWI (93) Born October 11, 1980. Saudi from the village of Hezna. Son of an imam, and reportedly became one himself. Close to Hamza and Ahmed ALGHAMDI. Saeed ALGHAMDI (93) Saudi, from Khamis Mushayt.

September 9, 2001—Northern Alliance commander Ahmed Shah Massoud is assassinated by two al-Qaeda operatives pretending to be Arab journalists.

September 9, 2001—Foreign intelligence officials intercept a telephone call on between Osama bin Laden and his adoptive mother Al-Kalifa in Syria, according to a report by NBC. “In two days, you’re going to hear big news, and you’re not going to hear from me for a while,” says bin Laden. AJC 10/2/01 Link

September 9, 2001—The owner, Richard Surma, notices that AL-SHEHHI, another tenant, (AHMED/BANIHAMMAD, presumably) and one other visitor who was constantly with them, have left the Panther Motel. AL-SHEHHI shaves his goatee before he departs, leaving only a mustache. AL-SHEHHI then returns the rental Corsica to Warrick’s for good., with an additional 1,035 miles on it. Link AL-SHEHHI flies to Boston. After they leave, owner Surma, cleaning out the rooms at the Panther, finds a tote bag in the trash. It is packed with aeronautical maps of the entire East Coast, martial arts books, a protractor, an English-German dictionary, Boeing 757 flight manuals, books from a flight school, and computer printouts with a detailed list of airline flights and times. A maid, cleaning the room, finds a box cutter. –Chicago Tribune 9/17/01

In Boston, AL-SHEHHI rents the room next to AHMED/BANIHAMMAD at the Milner. He makes a call from the room to Western Union, which authorities believe was one final attempt to refund unneeded cash to their contact in the United Arab Emirates. At some point in the day AL-SHEHHI wires $5400 to “Mustafa Ahmad” in the UAE. Link

September 9, 2001—Waleed AL-SHEHRI (11) wires $5000 to “Ahamad Mustafa” in the UAE. At some point in the day Wail and Waleed AL-SHEHRI order a call girl and pay her $180 for a 20-minute session.

September 9, 2001, 8:27 AM—The white Mistubishi appears at Logan airport again, remaining until 9:13 AM. Boston Globe 9/23/01

September 9, 2001— ATTA arrives in Boston. At Logan Airport, he watches that day’s American Airlines Flight 11 as it prepares for departure. He stands there at the gate with no luggage or briefcase, only a folder. A passenger remembers: “When I was actually boarding the airplane, he was standing at the gate counter writing on a card…the only thing he could see of the airplane was the pilots and the front of the airplane.” Link The same witness had seen him at curbside, asking “strange” questions. Later, he meets up with ALOMARI. They rent a blue 2001 Nissan Altima with Massachusetts license 3335VI at an Alamo Rent-a-Car in Boston at around 6 PM. They spend the night in a Boston hotel.

September 9, 2001, 4:15 PM—The white Mitsubishi returns to Logan again. It leaves at 5:39 PM.

September 10, 2001—There are 4,526 put options bought on UAL versus 748 call options. For American Airlines, the number of puts is 60 times the daily average.

September 10, 2001, afternoon—One of the Flight 93 hijackers goes to Nardone’s, a go-go bar on Route 1 in Elizabeth, NJ., about two miles from Newark International Airport. He has one beer and pays $20 to watch a dancer in the private VIP room. Link |

September 10, 2001, 4:25 PM—The white Mitsubishi returns to Logan again. It leaves at 5:05 PM.

September 10, 2001—ATTA and ALOMARI drive 100 miles north to Portland, ME in the afternoon. At a toll booth at Exit 13 of the Massachusetts Turnpike, ATTA “boils over in anger” when the operator demands that he pay the $3.10 toll. He speeds away without paying, and the toll taker writes down their tag number.

September 10, 2001—Hamza ALGHAMDI checks into the Days Hotel in Boston’s Brighton neighborhood. He is signed in as “Ghamdi.” ATTA+taxi+Hamburg&hl=en”> Link

September 10—Sometime today, JARRAH writes a farewell letter to his girlfriend. “You should be very proud, because it is an honor and in the end you will see that everyone will be happy.” According to Der Spiegel, the four-page letter is dated Sept. 10. Because of a mistake in the address, the package was returned to the United States and fell into the hands of the FBI.

September 10, 2001, 6:59 PM—A message is posted to a Yahoo financial message board reads “to the deapest part called the center of the earth by this wekend north east region will be destroyed new providance soon to fall apart.” Link

September 10, 2001—ATTA and ALOMARI arrive in Maine and check in to the Comfort Inn in South Portland, about a mile from the Portland International Jetport, at about 5:45 PM. Sometime between 8:00 pm and 9:00 pm, ATTA and ALOMARI are seen at Pizza Hut, 415 Maine Mall Road, South Portland, Maine, for approximately fifteen (15) minutes. This is apparently their last meal on earth. 8:31 PM —ATTA and ALOMARI make a cash withdrawal at a Key Bank drive-up ATM, 445 Gorham Road, South Portland. 8:41 PM—they are next recorded at a Fast Green ATM, located in the parking lot of a Pizzeria Uno restaurant, 280 Maine Mall Road, South Portland. They leave the account almost empty. 9:15 PM—They buy gasoline for their car at the Jetport Gas Station on 446 Western, Avenue, South Portland. 9:22 PM—ATTA enters a Wal-Mart on 451 Payne Road in Scarborough and spends twenty minutes there. ATTAck/investigation/ausport10042001.htm http://www.webdesk.com/terrorists-in-maine/”> Link Others believe ATTA viewed the Portland flight as a final test run for the plan to carry small knives onto planes.

September 10, 2001—AL-SHEHHI, AHMED/BANIHAMMAD, Mohand ALSHEHRI, and AL-SUQAMI price prostitutes, but found their prices too high.

Two of ATTA‘s bags, bearing his name tags, don’t make the transfer. http://www.suntimes.com/terror/stories/cst-nws-hijack16s1.html According to Der Spiegel, the FBI examines the bags and finds, among other things, a videotape on how to fly a Boeing 757 and 747.and airline uniforms. The immediate speculation is that the hijackers or some of their associates used the uniforms to gain access to areas of Logan Airport that would normally be secure. The FBI also wonders whether the uniforms were connected to an April 2001 break-in at the Hotel Nazionale in central Rome, in which two American Airlines pilots said they were robbed of their uniforms, badges, and airport access badges. An unidentified third vehicle, rented from a local Dollar Rent a Car franchise, is also found at Logan. Previously, investigators had identified two cars rented from the Boston office of Alamo Rent a Car. Link

September 10, 2001—At the Pink Pony Nude Theater in Daytona Beach, FL, a man with a Middle-Eastern accent sitting with two other men says “Tomorrow America will see bloodshed.” They leave a Koran behind at the strip club. Orlando Sentinel, 9/14/01

In NawaqALZHAMI’s car at Dulles, police find a cashier’s check made out to a flight school in Phoenix., four drawings of the cockpit of a Boeing 757, a box cutter, a map of Washington, and a handwritten note with the name “Mohumed” and ABDI’s northern Virginai phone number. ABDI had entered the USA as a Somali refugee on an I-94 visa. He had formerly worked for Caterair, an airline caterer at National Airport. When ABDI is picked up a few days later, on his person was a newspaper article about Ahmed Ressam’;s 1999 attempt to smuggle explosives across the border. (Human Events, 10/15/01) There was apparently another handwritten note saying “OSAMA 5895316,” AWADALLAH’s first name and old phone number on it (CNN 2/18/02)

September 11, 2001, just after midnight—Outside Newark International Airport, three men park a red Mitsubishi Galant at the entrance to the Airport Marriott hotel while two of them check in. The third man drives the car to a nearby Days Inn. All three were later positively identified as Flight 93 hijackers. One of the men in the Marriott is JARRAH, who paid $450 in cash for two no-smoking rooms, each with a double bed. The one with him is probably his roommate AL-HAZNAWI, though this is just a guess. The rooms JARRAH chooses have a clear view of the New York skyline. Link Link AL-HAZNAWI’s final bank statement, opened after Sept. 11 by his former landlord, showed that he left behind just $14. Link

At some point on the evening of the 10th, all of the hijackers, as required, read the “Instructions for the final night,” which were found in multiple places after the attacks, including in the wreckage of Flight 93. There are 16 in all. They begin: 1. Renew your convenant with God. 2. Know all aspects of the plan well and expect reaction and resistance from the enemy. Instruction No 3 is to read the ninth sura of the Koran. This sura, usually known as al-Tawba (penitence) or al-Bara’at (immunity), is the only one among the 114 suras in the Koran which does not begin with the words: “In the name of God, the compassionate, the merciful.” Some have suggested that this is because of the stern injunctions it contains: “When the sacred months have passed away, slay the idolaters wherever you find them, and take them captive and besiege them and lie in wait for them in every ambush” Link According to Bin Laden on the captured video, the “soldiers” knew that this was a martyrdom operation, but were not told until just before they boarded the plane. Clearly the four pilots, plus Nawaq ALHAZMI and ALMIDHAR, knew all. “Be calm and resolute, young man,” says ATTA’s letter to the hijackers, “For you will soon be going to paradise.” Link

September 11, 2001—In the UAE, approximately $16,348 is depositied into AL-HAWSAWI’s Standard Chartered Bank account. Then, at 9:22 AM local time, AL-HAWSAWI moves approximately $6534 from the $8,055 in Fayez AHMED/BANIHAMMAD’s (175) Standard Chartered Bank account into his own account, using a check dated September 10, 2001 and signed by Fayez AHMED/BANIHAMMAD; AL-HAWSAWI then withdraws approximately $1361, nearly all the remaining balance in AHMED/BANIHAMMAD’s account, by ATM cash withdrawal. Later that day, AL-HAWSAWI left the UAE for Karachi, Pakistan.

5:30 AM—ATTA and ALOMARI check out of the Comfort Inn, putting the $135 charge on ATTA’s Visa card. They leave an airline timetable on their room. After driving less than a mile to the airport, they park their Nissan and enter the airport. They drive the short distance to the Portland International Jetport and leave the Nissan there. Police find the “final night” instructions, plusemaps of New England and Boston, facial tissues, a toothpick, and an empty bag of Chips Ahoy crumpled in the ashtray. Link 5:40 AM—ATTA and ALOMARI enter Portland International Jetport Airport parking lot. They park on the first floor directly across from the airport entrance. 5:43—ATTA and ALOMARI check in at the U.S. Airways counter. 5:53 AM—The final pictures of ATTA and ALOMARI are taken by the security cameras at the airport in Portland, as they pass through security before boarding a flight to Boston. Each carries a shoulder bag. ATTA and ALOMARI board separately, keep quiet and don’t draw attention to themselves. Link However, once on the plane, they are described as “joined at the hip.” The Age, 9/17/01. The witness believed that they were business travelers, as it seemed that they were going over paperwork. 6:00 AM—ATTA and ALOMARI depart on their Colgan Air flight to Boston. 6:30 AM—The Colgan Air flight arrives at Logan Airport. ATTA and ALOMARI apparently clear another security checkpoint. At Logan, the pair sit by themselves in the waiting area by Gate 11, leaning forward in their seats and talking quietly, other passengers recall. ATTA is in seat 8A, next to ALOMARI, and across the aisle from David Angell and his wife Lynn. Link AL-SUQAMI is in 10B. The AL-SHEHRI brothers are in 2A and 2B.

After checking out the Valencia, Nawaq and Salem ALHAZMI board 77 together, checking in at the coach line rather than the first-class line. One of them shows a Massachusetts drivers’ license. Link

As Flight 11 is in line for takeoff, ATTA calls AL-SHEHHI, further back on the tarmac on UA 175, on his cellphone for the last time. The conversation lasts less than a minute, and is believed to have been a final confirmation that the plot was a go. AL-SHEHHI is in seat 6C. Ahmed ALGHAMDIis in 9D. AHMED/BANIHAMMAD is in 2A. Hamza AGHAMDI is in 9C.

JARRAH calls his girlfriend from the airport hotel in Newark. ALMIDHAR’s seat on 77 is 12B. Salem ALHAZMI 5E. Nawaq ALHAZMI 5F. HANJOUR is in 1B. MOQED 12A.

7:59 AM—AA Flight 11, a Boeing 767, departs Logan Airport with 81 passengers and 11 crew.

8:14 AM—UA Flight 175, a Boeing 767, departs Logan Airport with 56 passengers and 9 crew.

Approximately from 8:15-8:20 AM— Using box-cutters and small knives, ATTA and his team seize control of Flight 11. According to flight attendant Madeline Amy Sweeney, four attackers had cut the throat of a passenger in business class, killing him. They also stabbed the two flight attendants in First Class, including Karen Martin (who was given oxygen by the other flight attendants) and a pilot, she said. Flight attendant Betty Ong reported that two men in the eighth row [ATTA and ALOMARI] killed a man sitting behind them.. Ong also stated that the hijackers had sprayed something in her face—mace, presumably—that made her eyes burn and made breathing difficult. Three of the hijackers had been sitting in business class themselves and one [this could only be ATTA] spoke very good English.

That Sweeney mentioned four hijackers rather than five supports the theory that they used topographical cues to decide on when to make their move. It has been theorized that Flight 11 had the easiest navigation to the target, as its original route took it straight west, across the Hudson River valley. Following the river would have given ATTA a straight line of navigation to New York City, so for this reason the plane was seized early in the flight, since the landmark of the Hudson would be impossible to miss as long as the plane continued to the west. The hijackers didn’t need to keep the original pilots around after the climbout period. The fifth hijacker, therefore, would be needed to watch for the Hudson valley during the seizure period. Almost certainly this function was performed by one of the AL-SHEHRI brothers sitting in 2A. The dry runs the terrorists took during the summer would have been necessary to allow them to familiarize themselves with the topography.

The hijackers get into the cockpit, presumably, by drawing one of the flight crew out with their attacks on the flight attendants. Possibly by accident, someone keys the microphone so that their conversations could be heard by flight control in Nashua, NH. ATTA is heard saying, “Don’t do anything foolish. You’re not going to get hurt.” ATTA is also heard to say, “We have more planes, we have other planes.” It is possible that one of the hijackers falsely mentions to one of the American pilots an intention of heading toward LaGuardia or JFK airports in New York City.

Both cell phone calls reported that most of the coach passengers had no idea that anything was wrong.

8:20 AM—AA Flight 77 departs Dulles Airport.

Around 8:25 AM—Flight 11 makes a sharp right turn over Albany, NY. Its transponder is turned off.

Approximately 8:32 AM–Flight 175 is seized. 175 traveled a more southeasterly route, passing within easy visual range of the WTC towers. By this theory, the plane would have been seized the moment the towers became visible, as the towers themselves would have been the only necessary landmark. Again, this would have required the hijackers to have taken the flight previously, and to have sat in a window seat on the left side of the plane. On September 11, AHMED/BANIHAMMAD in 2A would have been the one to give the signal. The one call from 175 that we know of mentioned that men with knives were stabbing flight attendants in an attempt to force the crew to unlock the cockpit doors.

Around this time, multiple bomb threats are called in to the Boston and Cleveland Air-Traffic Control centers, which happen to be the ones handling the three flights currently in the air.

8:36 AM—Flight 175, now piloted by AL-SHEHHI, makes its first turn toward New Jersey. Shortly after, its transponders are turned off.

8:40 AM—FAA informs NORAD that Flight 11 has been hijacked.

8:42 AM—UA Flight 93—UA Flight 93 Departs Newark Airport with 38 passengers and 7 crew..

8:43 AM—FAA informs NORAD that Flight 175 has also been hijacked.

8:45 AM—Flight 11 crashes into the North Tower of the World Trade Center. It is believed that all of the hijackers congregated in the cockpit at the final stages of the flight to shout their “Allahu akbars” together.

8:55 AM—Flight 77 suddenly turns to the east. Flight 77’s transponder is turned off just after it crosses the Ohio River, so this is probably the landmark the hijackers used. Barbara Olson’s phone call indicated that the hijackers had herded the passengers to the rear of the jet.

9:02 AM—Flight 175 crashes into the South Tower of the World Trade Center.

9:05 AM—Flight 77 appears as an unidentified blip on radar over West Virginia.

9:24 AM—FAA informs NORAD that Flight 77 has also been hijacked.

Approximately 9:30—Flight 93 is seized. Flight 93’s nearly 180-degree turn just before Cleveland indicates that the hijackers may have used the sighting of Lake Erie as a landmark and a signal to seize the plane. The route the hijackers took strongly suggests that its intended target was in Washington, DC. Link The Flight 93 hijackers put on red bandannas just before they take over the plane. The headbands are a signature of Egyptian Islamic Jihad, who are known for wearing them during their machine-gun massacres on Coptic Christians and tourists at Luxor and elsewhere. It is not known whether any of the other three hijacker teams did this, but it is likely. The hijacker who is entrusted with guarding the passengers at the back of the plane wears a red box strapped to his waist, and claims to the passengers that it is a bomb. At least one passenger is murdered, along with the pilots.

9:37 AM—Ground controllers in Cleveland hear someone in broken English announce to the Flight 93 passengers that there was a bomb on board and that the plane was returning to the airport. The plane makes a sharp turn to the southeast at this time. The transponder is turned off at this time.

Freeper chris in nj says that the CVR tapes from Flight 93 “are an incredible amount of evidence against the 20th hijacker.” Link

9:30 AM—The “leader” of the Flight 77 hijackers, possibly ALMIDHAR, tells the Flight 77 passengers to call home because they are all about to die.

9:38 AM—Flight 77 crashes just short of the Pentagon.

10:03 AM—After an uprising by the passengers, Flight 93 crashes in Shanksville, PA.

There was an early theory that the hijackers had obtained access to the “jump seats” in the cockpits of the planes, but there is no hint of this in any of the recent accounts of the contents of the Flight 93 CVR. Link

Bin Laden tunes in to the radio to hear American news broadcasts of the event. “They were overjoyed when the first plane hit the building,” he said on a video later obtained by American forces, talking about others listening with him that day. “So I said to them: Be patient.” He said, “At the end of the newscast, they reported that a plane just hit the World Trade Center.” “Allah be praised,” replied one of the other men in the videotape. “After a little while, they announced that another plane had hit the World Trade Center,” bin Laden recalled. “The brothers who heard the news were overjoyed by it.” Bin Laden also mentions on the same video that “one group of people did not know the other,” but this was not essentially true.

Another flight out of Newark Airport that day, American Airlines Flight 43 to Los Angeles, is forced to land in St. Louis when the FAA grounds all commerical air traffic. Two passengers on this flight, Ayub Ali KHAN and Mohammed Jaweed AZMATH, board a train for San Antonio, but they are taken off the train by the FBI. They have boxcutters, disguises, and large amounts of cash with them. Khan and Azmath had lived at 6 Tonnele Ave., Jersey City, a four-story building with rooftop views of lower Manhattan, for about 2 1/2 years. Link It has been theorized that the two were part of a hijack team that lost its nerve. Given the very significant differences in age and ethnicity, and the apparent lack of contact that the two men had with the hijackers or their immediate associates—and also given the apparently wide circle in the American Muslim community who knew about the plot—one wonders if this was not an unofficial, “unsanctioned” hijacking.

MOUSSAOUI is seen cheering as he watches television pictures of the destruction from his secure unit. Shortly afterwards the FBI connects him with the attacks via BINALSHIBH. Finally, the FBI gets around to searching MOUSSAOUI’s computer, and find that it contains information about “dispersal of chemicals” as well as about crop-duster planes. MOUSSAOUI’s former roommate AL-ATTAS is arrested

September 13, 2001—The Visa card connected to AL-HAWSAWI’s account is used to make six ATM withdrawals in Karachi, Pakistan.

September 14, 2001—The Islamic prayer room at TUHH is shut down and the computer seized by German police.

September 16, 2001– In India, Saudi diplomat Ahmed Alshehri, based in Bombay, denies he was the father of hijacker Waleed M. ALSHEHRI. Reports from a Saudi newspaper editor say that both Waleed and Wail ALSHEHRI were Ahmed’s sons.

Around September 20—ATTAR leaves Germany for Sudan, where he lives openly.

November 9, 2001—A video is recorded in Afghanistan on which Osama Bin Laden names many of the hijackers, including Nawaq ALHAZMI, Salem ALHAZMI, and Wail ALSHEHRI, along with JARRAH and ATTA, and commends them to Allah. He mentions the AL-SHEHRI family name seven times, and the ALHAZMI and ALGHAMDI family names multiple times. He acknowledges that ATTA ran the operation: “Not everybody knew (…inaudible…). Mohammad (ATTA) from the Egyptian family (meaning the al-Qaida Egyptian group), was in charge of the group,” bin Laden said on the tape.The tape is found in Jalalabad a week or two later.CBS News 12/20/01

November 16, 2001—BINALSHIBH’s suicide video is discovered in the rubble of Mohammed Atef’s house in Kabul. He and four others are seen on the tape wearing red cloth knotted around their heads, as the hijackers of Flight 93 (and likely the others) did.

(the timeline continues at the link above)

Also take some time to review the History Commons project.

Just two days before 9/11, the New York Times publishes an article on their website examining the threat of an al-Qaeda attack on US interests. The article focuses on a videotape made by bin Laden which was released in June 2001 (see June 19, 2001). The article notes that “When the two-hour videotape surfaced last June, it attracted little attention, partly because much of it was spliced from previous bin Laden interviews and tapes. But since then the tape has proliferated on Islamic Web sites and in mosques and bazaars across the Muslim world.” It further notes that in the video, bin Laden “promises more attacks.” Referring to the bombing of the USS Cole in Yemen, he says, “The victory of Yemen will continue.” He promises to aid Palestinians fighting Israel, an important shift in emphasis from previous pronouncements. He also praises the Taliban, suggesting that previous reports of a split between bin Laden and the Taliban were a ruse. The article comments, “With his mockery of American power, Mr. bin Laden seems to be almost taunting the United States.” [New York Times, 9/9/2001] Curiously, shortly after 9/11, the New York Times will remove the article from their website archive and redirect all links from the article’s web address, http://www.nytimes.com/2001/09/09/international/asia/09OSAM.html, to the address of another article written by the same author shortly after 9/11, http://www.nytimes.com/2001/09/12/international/12OSAM.html. (Note the dates contained within the addresses.)

#9/11 #History #News #Politics #Islam #Jihad

22 notes · View notes

magicallygrimmwiccan · 6 years ago

Text

Only Time

Summary: They used to spend almost every moment of their lives together. Everything changes once high school hits, and Roman begins to realize that his actions have consequences.

Notes: This is my half of an art/writing trade with the wonderful Wren (@dailypattondoodle or @moonfang03), who wanted some twin Logince with angst and a fluffy resolution. Welp, hope you enjoy this :) This is going to be posted in a couple different chapters, purely for the sake of my editor and formatting on Tumblr. Hope you enjoy, Wren!

Logan and Roman Everhart had always been non-normal children. They were an adopted set of identical twins, something very unheard of by most. Their adopted fathers were always quick to defend the legitimacy of their claim to parenthood, however, with Roman and Logan none the wiser. The twins also never quite seemed to act their age. Roman began to recite Shakespearean sonnets at 8 without being in an acting company. Logan was reading high-school level chemistry textbooks at age 10 and actually understanding them. Roman was fluent in at least 3 languages including English by the age of 11, and Logan could translate texts in at least 5 by the same age. Their fathers were extremely proud of their children (although baffled over how they learned these things that quickly) and encouraged their interests as individuals.

At the same time, however, both were still just average children. Roman enjoyed going to movies and playing outside and doing sports while also joining a Shakespeare youth company and a choir outside of school. Logan found a STEM group outside of school and joined that while also enjoying reading in his spot on the windowsill in the living room. Both boys had their differences, both from each other and from other children, of course, but first and foremost, they were brothers. They did everything together as children, from watching new shows and movies to starting new books and even trying to cook together. In other words, they were siblings. Yes, they fought, and had their differences, but at the end of the day, they were each other’s best friend. The two of them were always there for each other. Well… until high school, that is.

The first day of high school, Roman met the other theatre kids and was instantly enamoured by them. They understood him perfectly. They supported and participated in his dramatics. They didn’t laugh when he began to geek out over the latest Disney news or the latest Broadway musical or the newest episode of a cartoon show that he really should have stopped watching years ago when he got “too old for it”. They were there with him, just as passionate about the same things. Oh, sure, they all had their differences, and drama, but overall, Roman knew that he had found a new family in this small group of social outcasts in the theatre department at his new high school.

Logan, however? Logan struggled. Not only was he seen as a freak for his selective mutism (and yes, it was selective, he had a hard enough time talking normally so it wasn’t much of a stretch to only communicate in sign), his uncommon interests pushed him even further away from his peers. While he made a couple of friends, mostly fellow science fans, they had lives and responsibilities away from him and their group, and, as all of them were introverts, they tended to not meet up outside of school very often. As such, Logan was extremely lonely without Roman. But this was fine, he told himself. Roman was a social person by nature. He needed people to talk to that weren’t his brother. Logan had no reason to be upset, right?

“And then he just started bawling! I mean, it’s understandable, that spider was far too large for any five year old to handle, but I think that’s the most emotion he’s ever shown in his life!” Roman finished, head thrown back from the force of his laughter. The rest of his friends giggled a bit as well, all too used to hearing about the adventures of Young Logan and Roman.

“Roman, you’re so mean to your brother!” Mabel giggled, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders. Her brown eyes twinkled with mirth as she almost dropped her fork into her pasta. Roman snorted and rolled his eyes, far too used to Mabel’s clumsiness.

“Mabel, you have no room to talk,” he shot back, grinning. “I seem to recall you telling us stories about being an absolute menace to your brother one summer when you were 12?” The other six people at the table laughed and oohed along with Mabel and Roman like the immature freshmen that they were. People at nearby tables shot them looks but did not speak up, ultimately succumbing to the apathy high school filled you with and returning to their regularly scheduled lunches. Nonetheless, their table did quiet down, not wanting to cause a fight to break out in the crowded lunchroom.

“Hey, speaking of brothers, I haven’t seen yours in a while, Roman,” Shiloh mentioned, instantly dampening the mood of the conversation. While Logan was liked by all at the table, more than one person had a complicated relationship with him, whether it be from classes or indirect experience through another person. Roman blinked in shock at Shiloh’s statement, mind whirling. He had just spoken to Logan an hour ago, hadn’t he? Outside of Logan’s Honors English classroom? And hadn’t his friends been with him? No, they had not, he concluded as the memories solidified. He had talked to Logan alone.

“He’s been busy with classes. He’s in all honors, remember, and he has a lot of activities to do outside of school,” Roman answered, voice even and unconcerned. Why should he be concerned, after all? This was normal behaviour for Logan, who did not like to talk to most people that were not in his immediate circle of Trusted Humans. Plus, these were not Logan’s friends. Acquaintances, yes, but not friends. Logan had his own friends, a couple of fellow sciencey introverts who did not mind Logan’s methods of communication. Why should Roman be concerned, then, that his friends had not seen Logan for a bit?

“Yeah, true. I dunno, though, he used to stop by at least once a lunch period. He hasn’t done that for at least two weeks,” Shiloh continued, chewing his bottom lip. Dani murmured in quiet agreement and shoved the rest of her sandwich in her mouth, and Mabel sighed, eyes flickering with melancholy. None of them would admit it, but they missed Logan’s visits, if only to see his adorable banter with his twin.

“He’s probably just busy, okay guys? Nothing’s wrong,” Roman huffed, stabbing violently into his pasta. “Why are you worried, anyway? He’d tell me if something is wrong.” Dani and Shiloh looked at each other across the table, silently communicating with eyebrow raises and glances. Clearly, Roman wasn’t paying attention to his sibling. Should they tell him, or let him figure this out on his own?

The bell to signal the end of lunch interrupted their decision making, and the group all stood to scatter to their afternoon classes, groaning the entire time. Roman hiked up his backpack and stalked off to algebra, slipping into his seat just before the late bell rang. Logan was fine, he knew. His friends had no reason to make such a big deal over this. Right?

Logan choked back his tears as he checked his phone for the fifth time in the last minute or so. Roman wasn’t coming, it was clear. This was far from the first time Roman had skipped their meetings, and it was very unlikely to be the last. He had a life, and friends, and better things to do with his time than spend time with his stupid nerdy brother who was still far too clingy at age 14. Five more minutes, he thought, I’ll give him five more minutes. He was already five minutes late, Logan knew, but he was not quite willing to accept that fact yet. He was not ready to admit that his brother was abandoning him.

Five minutes passed and Roman was nowhere to be found, as was normal lately. Logan sighed and began to walk towards his next class half an hour early as usual, ignoring the pangs and tearing in his chest. He should be fine, he couldn’t possibly expect Roman to spend every moment with him, he should be happy for his brother and his new friends. Logan knew that change was natural in high school, yet he somehow still felt awful over it. He should have made more of an effort in his younger years to talk to people other than Roman. Maybe then he’d know how to deal with this.

“Logan? You’re here early again. Is something wrong?” his Trig Honours teacher asked, concern dripping from her voice. Logan swallowed down his feelings, shifted his binder to his right arm, and lifted his left hand to reply.

No, I just finished lunch early and my friends are busy. May I please stay in here? he asked, hand shaking slightly at the thought of rejection. His teacher must have noticed and smiled at him, waves of calm radiating off of her.

“Of course you can stay in here, Logan. In fact, could you help me grade the Algebra 1 tests? If that’s not too much trouble,” she replied, holding up a stack of paper. Logan nodded and set his materials at his desk before walking back over and settling down to help grade. Grading relaxed him and took his mind off of his issues.

“So, Logan. Do you need to talk?” she asked, looking over her glasses. Logan shook his head, focusing on correcting a poor freshman’s factoring. She sighed and went back to silence, allowing Logan to stew in his thoughts. Far too soon, the rest of his class began to filter in, and Logan had to go back into his daily schedule, still raw and uncertain about what was going on with his brother.

Luckily, school was over quickly, and Logan began his walk home, not willing to wait for Roman to finish play practice today. Plus, he had homework, and Dad would need help making dinner since Papa was working late tonight. It’s not like Roman would worry, anyway, Logan knew as he reached the front door, reaching into his pocket to grab his house keys. He walked in the door, the scent of burning sugar hitting his nose.

“Logan? Can you help me? I can’t… figure out how to cook!” Dad’s voice called, tinged with panic. Logan chuffed, threw his backpack onto the couch, and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening as he took in the destruction around him. Flour dusted every surface. Eggs were splattered across the table. Sloppily chopped cloves of garlic lay on the floor, and a bottle of olive oil lay on its side, thankfully sealed and not leaking. In the middle of this cooking disaster zone stood Virgil Everhart, a famous author who still didn’t know how to cook at age 30. Logan smiles slightly and walked over, picking up a discarded chopping knife.

What are you trying to make, Dad? Virgil sighed and turned back to the stove, shutting it off and taking the slightly-smoking pan off of the burner.

“This… this nice pasta recipe. And we had all the things to hand make pasta… and I wanted to surprise Patton with something special? But… I failed,” Virgil muttered, gesturing around the room. Logan nodded and gently took the pan from Virgil. He grabbed out all the ingredients he was going to need and set to work, smiling.

I can do this, Dad. Just focus on cleaning up, Logan signed before setting to work. Virgil shuffled around behind him, cleaning up everything that he had almost destroyed and handing Logan the olive oil for later. Logan snorted and took it, giving his Dad a large smile and a big thumbs-up. Virgil was trying to learn a new skill, it was clear.

“Okay, it’s all cleaned up. Can I help?” Logan shook his head and finished kneading the dough, beginning to set it up to roll it out and cut it. The kitchen descended into silence as the two worked, Virgil mostly handing Logan things and stepping back and watching his son make the meal. Logan was just finishing dishing the pasta into bowls when the front door slammed open and Roman’s voice came floating in.

“I’m home, everyone! Do I smell garlic?” Logan stiffened a bit but focused on finishing his task while Virgil went out to find and talk to Roman.

“Yep. Logan actually made dinner. Talk to him,” Virgil drawled. Logan finished topping everything with parmesan and hurried towards his room, snatching a bowl on the way. No, he wasn’t avoiding Roman, what were you talking about?

He walked into his room and softly closed the door before collapsing into his desk chair, pulling out his math textbook and flipping open his notebook. This was not the first time he did this, eating dinner and doing homework while avoiding his family, and it would be far from the last time he did this. He shoved down the bubbling heat, stabbed his fork into a mushroom, and threw himself into graphing conic sections for the second night in a row.

“So… Roman. We need to have a talk,” Virgil started, sitting down with his noodles across from his more extroverted son. Roman blinked and looked up, mouth full of pasta and carrots. Confusion painted his face, which Virgil would find adorable in any other scenario, but right now made anger bubble in his gut. It was clear Logan was hurting, and Roman should have noticed and known, but he clearly had no idea, and that made Virgil angrier than he thought.

“About what? My grades are fine, I’m not having issues… what’s up, Dad? Is someone dying?” Roman babbled, eyes wide and panicked. Virgil sighed and pinched his nose. Wow, how did he raise such a dramatic child? He blamed Patton.

“No one is dying. You’re not in trouble. It’s Logan.” Roman’s face paled and he almost dropped the bowl, catching it at the last second. “I… what? What’s wrong with Logan? Is he being bullied? Is he okay? Is he sick? Does he have depression? Who do I need to fight?” Roman rattled off, fists clenching and teeth gritting. Virgil actually… felt scared of his son at that moment. That… that should not happen.

“Whoa, hang on, Roman! Slow down! No, Logan is okay in most of those fields. Please let me talk!” Virgil babbled. Roman quieted down, brown eyes wide with expectation. Virgil sighed, steepled his fingers, and began. “I… I believe Logan may be exhibiting symptoms of depression or anxiety. And… I want to ask you if you have any idea why?”

Roman frowned and began to think. He seemed to finally stumble across a solution and his eyes widened, horror and despair filling their cocoa depths. “I… holy shit. I have no idea,” he whispered. Virgil sighed, took a bite of his pasta, and began to think about how to explain things to his son.

“I… you talk a lot about your friends, which is great, don’t get me wrong, but you also used to talk about Logan… and I’m wondering if you’ve just stopped talking to him?” Roman frowned before comprehension dawned.

“I haven’t been talking to him… oh crap, we were supposed to meet up at lunch today… oh crap!” Roman bolted upright, face pale. “I… where’s Logan! I need to talk to him! I- I need to fix this!” He sprinted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone to eat his pasta and contemplate all the horrible outcomes this situation could bring.

The front door opened again and closed again, and Virgil looked up to find Patton smiling softly at him. “Hey, honey, what’s going on?” Virgil sighed and pecked Patton on the cheek.

“Roman and Logan… are having some issues. They’re talking it out now.” Patton nodded and sat next to him, squeezing his hand.

“It’ll be fine, darling. They’re strong. They have a great bond. Everything will be okay,” Patton whispered. Virgil leaned against him, smiling softly.

“I hope so, Patt. I hope so.”

Knock knock. “Logan? Can we talk?” Logan’s head snapped upwards and he gulped at the sound of Roman’s nervous voice. His brother only sounded nervous when things were serious. Had Logan done something wrong? The mere thought sent nasty whispers through his brain, and he tried to block them out, focusing on the present. He stood and walked to his door, opening it to find Roman fidgeting with his sleeves in the hallway. “Can I come in?” Roman asked, eyes shining with something Logan couldn’t decipher. Logan nodded and let him in, closing the door behind his twin before sitting back in his desk chair while Roman perched on the bed. Silence reigned as the brothers faced each other, neither putting forth any words. Finally, after a solid three minutes of silence, Roman placed his hands on his knees, sighed, and began.

“Logan. I… you’ve been acting off lately. A bit more… depressed? And anxious? And I’d like to know what’s going on.” Logan bit his lip and wrung his hands together, trying to formulate a response. Should he be honest? Should he tell Roman the truth about his feelings? Or should he try and make Roman feel better? Looking into Roman’s earnest eyes, however, Logan felt all plans of lying leave his head. He had to tell his twin the truth.

I… have been feeling abandoned lately? You have been skipping our lunch meetings to hang out with your friends… and we don’t talk much anymore… which is fine! You have your own friends and your own life. I just feel a bit sad and hurt over it, Logan signed. His hands shook as they formed the damning signs, his hands lowering when he was done. Silence reigned, and Logan’s throat began to close up. He was so stupid, why couldn’t he just push his feelings down, why couldn’t he grow up and let Roman go-

Logan was suddenly yanked into a hug and he gasped, tears bubbling in his eyes. “You’re okay, Logan. You’re okay. I’m so, so sorry, bro, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry,” Roman sobbed, squeezing Logan. Logan slowly lifted his arms and hugged Roman back, finally allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks. There the two brothers sat, crying, for a length of time neither could tell, simply basking in the presence and love of the other, their best friend since birth. Eventually, Roman pulled back, sniffing, but kept his hands on Logan’s shoulders, giving him a watery grin.

“Okay. I promise, I will not forget our meetings, okay? In fact, I’m going to start spending all of lunch at least once a week with you. How does that sound?” Logan’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head. No, he didn’t want that, Roman’s friends would start to hate him for taking Roman away-

“Hey, Logan? My friends will understand, okay? You come first, anyway. If they can’t handle me spending time with my brother, then they weren’t that great of friends in the first place,” Roman stated firmly, his voice cutting through Logan’s spiraling thoughts. Logan gulped and raised his hands.

I don’t want to cut into your time with people you enjoy, though. Roman growled and shook Logan gently.

“Logan. You matter more, okay? Plus, they all miss you. Just… trust me on this, okay?” Logan slowly, shakily nodded, and Roman smiled softly. “Good. That’s great, Logan. Now, yell at me if I do anything stupid, okay?”

Logan snorted. You’ll be smacked about ten times per day, then. Roman blinked before his cheeks puffed out.

“Hey! That’s rude!” Logan giggled, and Roman simply pouted more in an effort to be the largest drama queen on the planet. This caused Logan to giggle harder, and finally, Roman broke down laughing as well, happiness welling up in both sibling’s souls. They ended up cuddling on Logan’s bed and watching Netflix, somehow, but neither complained. This was the most time they’d spent with each other for a while, and neither was willing to have this end.

What neither knew was that, when they eventually fell asleep, Patton slipped into the room and tucked them in, plugged in Logan’s laptop, and dropped a soft kiss onto both of their foreheads. “Sweet dreams, kiddos,” he murmured before leaving, smiling to himself. His kiddos were finally beginning to make things better, and nothing could be better in his eyes.

“Logan, calm down. They all like you, remember?” Roman murmured, nudging his brother in the ribs gently. Logan gulped and adjusted his grip on his Caesar salad, staring across the lunchroom at Roman’s usual table filled with loud, laughing theatre kids. Mabel was draped across Dani, the two girls watching something on Dani’s phone. Shiloh and Tommy were shouting in Hebrew about math homework (Logan could only tell because he glimpsed their open math textbooks), and Clair was giggling along with Cory and Kate about cute humans. Overall, an alien environment to Logan. He didn’t fit in; he didn’t belong there. Roman huffed and grabbed Logan’s arm, yanking him after him as he marched over.

“Friends! Countrymen! Gentlewomen! Lend me your ears!” he called, causing the entire cafeteria to turn around and stare at them. Logan flinched, but Roman and his entire friend group took this in stride, grinning.

“Yes, Your Highness? What say you?” Shiloh yelled back, his voice lilting with sarcasm. The entire table chorused agreement, a cacophony of sarcasm erupting from the table. Logan flinched back, but Roman pushed onwards, gently shoving him in between Shiloh and Alfred. Logan simply fidgeted with his fork and waited to be kicked from the table.

“I say that my darling advisor, my dear brother, will be joining us today!” Roman chirped, lowering his volume. The rest of the cafeteria ignored them once again, and Logan swallowed as all the eyes at the table turned to him. He was acutely aware of how his argyle sweater vest and tie made him stand out among this group of fashionable teens. He fidgeted, not used to this much attention. Mika and Wirt were much more subdued and hated eye contact as much as Logan did. This… this was not in Logan’s comfort zone at all.

“Cool! So, Logan, do you listen to musicals? I just finished listening to the UK version of Heathers and do I have some opinions,” Mabel answered Roman, slamming her fist into the table.

“Oh, en guarde, bitch, you do not get to trash that recording!” Tommy yelped, slamming his fist into the table. Mabel yelled a challenge back, and Logan soon found himself embroiled in a conversation about which version of Heathers was better, a topic he knew nothing about. However, he found this conversation… pleasant, even fun. All of Roman’s friends were very welcoming and warm, and all of them took their time and let him sign, Roman translating for him. Never once did Logan feel excluded. This was… nice. He smiled his first genuine smile in months. Things were finally looking up.

Notes: And that’s Chapter One! I’m most likely posting Chapter 2 tomorrow (fingers crossed!). Hope you all enjoyed this!

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #twin logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #parental moxiety #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #selectively mute logan #i am an evil author #writing trade #chapter one #only time

198 notes · View notes

shannonhale · 7 years ago

Text

We’re Ready: a post for #kidlitwomen

I was presenting an assembly for kids grades 3-8 while on book tour for the third PRINCESS ACADEMY book.

Me: "So many teachers have told me the same thing. They say, 'When I told my students we were reading a book called PRINCESS ACADEMY, the girls said—'"

I gesture to the kids and wait. They anticipate what I'm expecting, and in unison, the girls scream, "YAY!"

Me: "'And the boys said—"

I gesture and wait. The boys know just what to do. They always do, no matter their age or the state they live in.

In unison, the boys shout, "BOOOOO!"

Me: "And then the teachers tell me that after reading the book, the boys like it as much or sometimes even more than the girls do."

Audible gasp. They weren't expecting that.

Me: "So it's not the story itself boys don't like, it's what?" The kids shout, "The name! The title!"

Me: "And why don't they like the title?"

As usual, kids call out, "Princess!"

But this time, a smallish 3rd grade boy on the first row, who I find out later is named Logan, shouts at me, "Because it's GIRLY!"

The way Logan said "girly"…so much hatred from someone so small. So much distain. This is my 200-300th assembly, I've asked these same questions dozens of times with the same answers, but the way he says "girly" literally makes me take a step back. I am briefly speechless, chilled by his hostility.

Then I pull it together and continue as I usually do.

"Boys, I have to ask you a question. Why are you so afraid of princesses? Did a princess steal your dog? Did a princess kidnap your parents? Does a princess live under your bed and sneak out at night to try to suck your eyeballs out of your skull?"

The kids laugh and shout "No!" and laugh some more. We talk about how girls get to read any book they want but some people try to tell boys that they can only read half the books. I say that this isn't fair. I can see that they're thinking about it in their own way.

But little Logan is skeptical. He's sure he knows why boys won't read a book about a princess. Because a princess is a girl—a girl to the extreme. And girls are bad. Shameful. A boy should be embarrassed to read a book about a girl. To care about a girl. To empathize with a girl.

Where did Logan learn that? What does believing that do to him? And how will that belief affect all the girls and women he will deal with for the rest of his life?

At the end of my presentation, I read aloud the first few chapters of THE PRINCESS IN BLACK. After, Logan was the only boy who stayed behind while I signed books. He didn't have a book for me to sign, he had a question, but he didn't want to ask me in front of others. He waited till everyone but a couple of adults had left. Then, trembling with nervousness, he whispered in my ear, "Do you have a copy of that black princess book?"

He wanted to know what happened next in her story. But he was ashamed to want to know.

Who did this to him? How will this affect how he feels about himself? How will this affect how he treats fellow humans his entire life?

We already know that misogyny is toxic and damaging to women and girls, but often we assume it doesn't harm boys or men a lick. We think we're asking them to go against their best interest in the name of fairness or love. But that hatred, that animosity, that fear in little Logan, that isn't in his best interest. The oppressor is always damaged by believing and treating others as less than fully human. Always. Nobody wins. Everybody loses.

We humans have a peculiar tendency to assume either/or scenarios despite all logic. Obviously it's NOT "either men matter OR women do." It's NOT "we can give boys books about boys OR books about girls." It's NOT "men are important to this industry OR women are."

It's not either/or. It's AND.

We can celebrate boys AND girls. We can read about boys AND girls. We can listen to women AND men. We can honor and respect women AND men. And And And. I know this seems obvious and simplistic, but how often have you assumed that a boy reader would only read a book about boys? I have. Have you preselected books for a boy and only offered him books about boys? I've done that in the past. And if not, I've caught myself and others kind of apologizing about it. "I think you'll enjoy this book EVEN THOUGH it's about a girl!" They hear that even though. They know what we mean. And they absorb it as truth.

I met little Logan at the same assembly where I noticed that all the 7th and 8th graders were girls. Later, a teacher told me that the administration only invited the middle school girls to my assembly. Because I'm a woman. I asked, and when they'd had a male author, all the kids were invited. Again reinforcing the falsehood that what men say is universally important but what women say only applies to girls.

One 8th grade boy was a big fan of one of my books and had wanted to come, so the teacher had gotten special permission for him to attend, but by then he was too embarrassed. Ashamed to want to hear a woman speak. Ashamed to care about the thoughts of a girl.

A few days later, I tweeted about how the school didn't invite the middle school boys. And to my surprise, twitter responded. Twitter was outraged. I was blown away. I've been talking about these issues for over a decade, and to be honest, after a while you feel like no one cares.

But for whatever reason, this time people were ready. I wrote a post explaining what happened, and tens of thousands of people read it. National media outlets interviewed me. People who hadn't thought about gendered reading before were talking, comparing notes, questioning what had seemed normal. Finally, finally, finally.

And that's the other thing that stood out to me about Logan—he was so ready to change. Eager for it. So open that he'd started the hour expressing disgust at all things "girly" and ended it by whispering an anxious hope to be a part of that story after all.

The girls are ready. Boy howdy, we've been ready for a painful long time. But the boys, they're ready too. Are you?

I've spoken with many groups about gendered reading in the last few years. Here are some things that I hear:

A librarian, introducing me before my presentation: "Girls, you're in for a real treat. You're going to love Shannon Hale's books. Boys, I expect you to behave anyway."

A book festival committee member: "Last week we met to choose a keynote speaker for next year. I suggested you, but another member said, 'What about the boys?' so we chose a male author instead."

A parent: "My son read your book and he ACTUALLY liked it!"

A teacher: "I never noticed before, but for read aloud I tend to choose books about boys because I assume those are the only books the boys will like."

A mom: "My son asked me to read him The Princess in Black, and I said, 'No, that's for your sister,' without even thinking about it."

A bookseller: "I've stopped asking people if they're shopping for a boy or a girl and instead asking them what kind of story the child likes."

Like the bookseller, when I do signings, I frequently ask each kid, "What kind of books do you like?" I hear what you'd expect: funny books, adventure stories, fantasy, graphic novels. I've never, ever, EVER had a kid say, "I only like books about boys." Adults are the ones with the weird bias. We're the ones with the hangups, because we were raised to believe thinking that way is normal. And we pass it along to the kids in sometimes overt ("Put that back! That's a girl book!") but usually in subtle ways we barely notice ourselves.

But we are ready now. We're ready to notice and to analyze. We're ready to be thoughtful. We're ready for change. The girls are ready, the boys are ready, the non-binary kids are ready. The parents, librarians, booksellers, authors, readers are ready. Time's up. Let's make a change.

#kidlitwomen

83K notes · View notes

xo-dailypier-blog · 5 years ago

Photo

this is not a recap;

hey cumguzzlers,

It has come to my attention that Lady X took it upon herself to rate the nether regions of the men of Santa Monica. Unfortunately her assessment was BIASED and hardly based on facts. So as a JOURNALIST, I have taken it upon myself to get to the TRUTH. Today will be a Top 9 list of the men in this town, and their BEDROOM PERFORMANCES.

I’m not revealing actual sizes, because I firmly believe that it’s all about the motion of the ocean. And if you think I’m giving a run down on every SCRUB in this town, you’re out of your mind! I WISH I could have made this a Top 10 but most of the guys on Lady X’s assessment, have already been exposed in the fuck hut tapes during Summer Crush, and honestly? Don’t even make the cut for the top 5. Like, we KNOW the #DemonDick is low-key worth the hype (BUT YOU SHOULD STAY AWAY FROM IT BECAUSE HELLO? IT RUINED TWO RELATIONSHIPS IN LIKE THE SPAN OF A DAY! AND IM SURE THE BUCK DOESNT STOP THERE!), and we GET IT, Adam has a massive ROD, and I’m sure (Power Top) Asher, his brother, isn’t that far off. Vic IS well endowed AND can make things EROTIC. And we all know about Jack, who is also well endowed but has, like, erectile dysfunction or whatever. Oh, and don’t forget Daddy Sorrentino is obvs a beast in the sheets, but I’ve been telling you guys that since, like, ever. And I’m honestly on a Jamie/Cunty Sabbatical atm, they’re going through a difficult time after Cunty cheated, so who really needs their dick-info broadcasted on top of all that, ya know? (Cunty deff comes in at an alleged 9 inches, which is bigger than Jamie, BUT he (Cunty) never uses his junk on Jamie because, like Asher, Jamie is a Power Top. (but you didn’t hear this from me). Look, if any guy is left off the list that you have interest in, like, just ask Phobe. I’m sure she’ll know.

But before we get started, Congratulations are in order! You guys voted on Hottie of the Moment, and we have a winner!

It’s none other than Miss Fraudi Zirconium herself (@heidistarks) The queen of bargains has stormed onto the scene in her Wild Fable Couture and has CAPTIVATED the hearts of all Santa Monicans. In honor of her win, I am giving everyone a $25 gift card to Claire’s! If you go to their website and use offer code SharkThot, you too, can get the Heidi Look. When asked about her recent accomplishment she had this to say:

"It's about fucking time." - Fraudi Zirconium Stark, 2019

Congratulations, again Fraudi! You go girl, work that Forever 21 tracksuit, bitch!

NINE - ALEC CLARKE @alecxclarke

One of the wangs in question that Lady X TOUCHED ON was Alec Clarke. She mentioned that Alec was more than likely LACKING in the his SOUTHERN MEAT DEPARTMENT. So obvs i had a BONE to pick with this assessment because Alec’s fan base is GETTING UP there with Jamie Carter’s so we have to know what he got in them jeans. Sadly ... while his junk is fine. His way around the bedroom is is abysmal, I honestly thought it was a PHALL-ACY but one girl who is one of his past flings, wrote to me after seeing Lady X’s post. She has asked to remain anonymous...

Hey DP (and Lady X),

I saw your post about Alec and you’re wrong about his size. He’s actually pretty girthy and lengthy or whatever. But he is honestly one of my worst encounters. We met on a dating app, that shall remain nameless. So fast forward to sexy time, and once we started making out it was a tragedy! No tongue, no passion. It was like kissing a mcfucking corpse! His lips were like, so dry, but, whatever, that’s not the problem. Once I started giving him a blow jay he just randomly burst into tears, and said he couldn’t do it anymore, and asked if I wanted to play fucking Yahtzee. I left and bought Listerine. I think you should look into if he is like this with all the girls, instead of his size. Bc that’s the real tea. Anyways, Love the Blog! Kisses!

Its always such a disappointment when this happens. OBVIOUSLY our HoneyBun Alec has some issues to work on. I know he has a Crazy life but I didn’t think things were this HARD for him.

Overall Rating: N/A

Favorite Position: Again, N/A. I could hardly find girls who’ve had sex with him ................. INCHresting. (Ok, that was the last one).

Downside: I mean, Hello? He breaks out in tears mid-coitus! He IS the downside!

Alec! Write into us with your side of the story! I prom (half a promise) that I won’t believe the rumors. Love ya, Honey Bun!

EIGHT - SKYLER DAVIS @skylerxdavis

No idea where Lady X got the idea that he had the biggest LOVE MISSLE in town, but it is absolutely FALSE. And in fact, what I’ve heard about his performance in the bedzzzZzZzZzzzzzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzZzZzzzz ZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Overall Rating: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Favorite Position: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Downside: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Alleged Body Count: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

SEVEN - NOAH SINCLAIR @nhsinclair

So next on the list is Noah Sinclair. This one will be brief, because it really threw me for a loop. So I’m sorry to report, that Noah has a Chode. I know. I’m actually crying while typing this but this is only the word on the street, so take it with a grain of salt.

“Darla” (fake name) wrote in to my blog to refute Lady X’s claims. She writes:

I’ve had half way sex with Noah one time and when he dropped his pants I literally laughed. Not to body shame or whatever, but I, like, couldn’t have sex with him because the condom didn’t fit. Sorry, didn’t have a Trojan Jr readily available? He’s good with his hands though.

So Noah has made the list in a sad and unfortunate entry. So ladies if you want Noah to DIP his NUGGET in YOUR sauce, you better make your move!

Maybe this is why he got that divorce. Ugh, poor Natasha. Let’s hope this is all a rumor, I would hate for it to be true.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ (The hand thing is kind of important).

Favorite Position: Noah’s Nugget Number (No clue what this means, ask Diana or Natasha).

Downside: There is no downside if you, like myself, are privy to a good Nugget or two. #RanchPlease

MOVING ON!

SIX - LOGAN LANCASTER @loganlancaster

Our next entry is none other than Long Dick Logan Lancaster. According to Lady X, Logan is average. Well I’m here to let you know that, thankfully, LDL lives up to his name (no nuggets here!). But you guys would have to get with him to truly find out how #blessed he is.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Alligator Fuckhouse, according to sources. (DON’T Google it, live in ignorance).

Downside: The only reason, ya boi has gotten 4 stars instead of 5 is because of the rumors surrounding his hygiene. As we know, there’s been a debate on the internet about washing your legs. And Logan, an able bodied man, doesn’t do that. Nor does he take showers the way that he should. Many girls who’ve been with him have complained of smelling the stinch of onions and mildew while ENGAGING with him. Others have complained of a SALTY taste while going down on him. Most of the girls he’s BANGED have all been in the junkyard of his Auto Shop or whatever so maybe it’s a fetish for them? That’s no excuse for bringing that nasty ass behavior to every other girl in Santa Monica.

Thankfully a bunch of you have been sending body wash to his shop, so maybe we can LanCAST the mustiness away (If this is true).

Logan, please write in, I need to know the truth. But other than that, the dick is BOMB! But make sure you don’t over-do it on B.J. part though, sodium intake is v important and you wouldn’t want to get hypertension suckling on his salty ass COCK.

FIVE - EMRE YOGIOH @emre--yavuz

Ok, so next on the list is Emre Yugoslavia (or whatever his name is). Ok so ... buckle in ladies.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Lion King (I’m serious, don’t Google these things).

Downside: Ok, so Emre is supposedly into bondage. Which totally makes sense since he’s like, repressed from childhood. The whole missing sister thing really took a toll on his psych, since he’s parents totes forgot about him. Now he YEARNS for control. So the word is that he’s basically Christian Grey but not a literal abuser. He’s into bondage, slapping, SPITTING, choking, flogging, and whips and chains EXCITE HIM. An S&M Daddy! Now the only reason this is in the Downside section is because it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Some girls find it disturbing, and others are totes into it. I’m the latter! Sign me the FUCK up! Choke me with those strong REPRESSED hands.

I noticed he and Olivia have been friendly recently, let’s hope she knows that she’ll be walking side to side after a night with him (no, but like, because of the flogging, not the dick). Once he’s done with those spread sheets at his hoity-toity big boy job, spread sheets take on a whole new meaning once the dawn comes. You go Emre Yahooligan! #callme

FOUR - DEVIN FLORES @devinxflores

First of all, I just want to give a big thanks to all of you for letting me call him Devin TORRES for the past few MONTHS like a complete MORON! I really appreciate you guys letting me disgrace the future KING of Santa Monica in such a terrible way! No really, you guys are the best. I love my fans <3.

Anyways, it’s well known that Devin and his Alaskan Bull Worm have burrowed through the city. Both the men and women alike have survived the DF experience, with ZERO complaints .... well, except for one ...

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Charizard (ONCE again, don’t Google. Just know that it involves fire ... And we aint talking about lighting no candles (which he allegedly seems to enjoy, how romantic!)).

Downside: As we have witnessed, Devin is a complete and total klutz! He is always getting himself into a bullshit that is literally all his fault. Didn’t he glue something to his head a few weeks ago -- actually, you know what? That’s not important. What I was getting at is, the main complaint about DaddyDevinFLORES is that during SACX the klutz JUMPS OUT. He has been rumored to have smacked his head on the headboard whilst switching positions (causing him to go UNCONSCIOUS for SEVERAL HOURS, which completely RUINS the mood). One of his Encounters even claimed that during a Romantic Toast of Wine, he clinked the glass so hard it broke and and SHARDS of GLASS went into his hands, causing him to bleed INSTANTLY. What the fuck, Devin?

How could someone who can handle balls so well out on the soccer court, not be able to handle them in the bedroom without accidentally falling out of a window in the process?

Ladies and Gents, much like Emre, Devin will have you walking Side to Side, but if it happens you might be suffering from brain damage after falling in the shower whilst trying to have sex with him. Please seek professional help immediately.

THREE - BERNBERN<3 @carverberncrd

Coming in at Number 3 is none other than Heidi’s personal play thing! We’ve seen his bulge through his Under Armour spanks, so Of Course I had to do a little research to find out the Lipton on HIS heat-seeker. I’ve reached out to his past flings and came to a general consensus.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The women I interviewed all confirmed he is an excellent LAY, so once again, I was right. BernBern<3 outsold your favs.

Favorite Position: Doggystyle (obvi)

Downside: He’s a Taurus so while he will indeed fuck you into a state of paralysis, it’s only to reach his Hedonistic Quota for the evening. He probs won’t even remember your name once he’s done, let alone learn it in the first place. So don’t get attached<3.

His star sign also explains his relationship with Fraudi. Not only are they both so annoyingly stubborn, but Two tops can rarely make it in a relationship. Just ask Ash — never mind. (Omg, btw Idk WHY everyone keeps asking. YES, the rumors are true! BernBern<3 gets pegged, but only by Heidi, it’s actually a testament to his masculinity and how he’s reached the apex of it at this point. But this is all old tea. So I guess Julian isn’t the only #DemonDick in the Stark Fam, Surprise?). Anyways, I ship them, but they get on my fucking nerves! They can’t even admit their undying love for each other, which is so obvious. But this isn’t about #Berni (working ship name), BernBern<3 has a massive COCK (and heart) and it has landed itself on the Top of the list.

TWO - SINRIQUE @itsenriqueaguilar

This one came as a surprise to me because I have no idea who this is. But yalls asses do! So here we have Enrique Aguilar, coming in at number 2 because of the OUTPOUR of receipts on the TALLY WACK ATTACK that he PACKS.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: You know, there wasn’t a general consensus, he’s a man FULL of surprises.

Downside: No, you don’t understand, there is literally no downside. Look, here is a letter from one of the women he’s slept with. For reasons, you will understand REAL soon, this person has been kept anonymous.

Dear DP,

It’s been approximately 1 year, two months, 9 days, 5 hours, and 46 seconds since I Locked Eyes with Enrique from across a crowded room. That night would go to be on of the most invigorating, tantalizing, and romantic experiences of my life. But when I woke up the following morning HE was gone. I long for the day I see him again. My heart Aches at the thought of him with another women. Giving her the same love that HE gave to ME. I need you to understand that I was a grade A student at my university (4.0). I had an paid internship at an elite institution that OWULD HAVE LED ME INTO A PROMISING CAREER! BUT AFTER THAT NIGHT I BECAME RAVENOUS. I NEEDED MORE. AND IT CONSUMED ME! EVENTUALLY I LOST MY INTERN BECAUSE I STOPPED SHOWING UP! I FLUNKED OUT OF SCHOOL BECAUSE I DIDN’T CARE ANYMORE. I SEARCHED YOU ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA BUT I COULDN’T FIND YOU! ENRIQUE I NEED YOU BACK IN MY LIFE! JUST FOR ONE MORE NIGHT! PEASE I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE! CALL ME AT [redacted]

Obviously Ivy, sent this in ... kidding (But honestly though? They did used to date, which ... yikes ... Good to know Daddy Rique has no standards, maybe we all have a chance. #shade #clapback #scalpt)

Anyways, I’ll have to keep an eye on this one, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders ... AND good head on his shoulders OKURRRRRR!!!

ONE - SEBASTIAN DELGADO @bashdelgado

That nerd that sat in the back of the classroom brainstorm his next nerdy ass invention with high-watered khakis, and orthopedic shoes in like, the ninth grade (because he was focused on Arch Support???????). That’s him, Sebastian Delgado. And Baby Daddy Bash has DITCHED the NERD LOOK and is now ready to SNATCH YOUR CAT BACK.

I’m sure everyone is just surprised as I am. But hey, they don’t call him “Bash” for nothing (except for the fact that it’s a shortened version of his name). He’s totes Bashing Puss with his MONSTROUS MEAT TRUNCHEON (and Buss?? Sebastian contact me about your sexuality).

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Missionary, he’s a man of passion and likes to stare DEEP into your eyes. #swoon #romantic #westan

Downside: Well if you HATE Love and AFFECTION, this one is not the one for you. Not only does he have a GINORMOUS, UN-NUGGETED MEAT SEPTOR/LAP ROCKET/VAGINA MINER, which, by the way, last a LONG time, He is EXCELLENT BOYFRIEND Material! He’s caring, patient, kind, resourceful, loyal, and he is well on his way to becoming a multi-millionaire -- which is NOT the reason he is number one! Money is not the goal here ladies (and guys? Seriously Sebastian, I need to know what’s up).

Sebastian is the complete package and he has ALL of the other guys in this town QUAKING!

So Stan A True Man. Stan .... Sebastian.

And that, my friends, ends the TRUE tea on the wangs in this town. This was fun while it lasted, but I have some COCKtails that need my attention (ok, maybe THAT was the last one).

xo, DP

#santamgossip #abuse tw #blood tw #I LITERALLY SIT AROUND AND MAKE HEADCANNONS ABOUT YALLS CHARACTERS NO ONE ASKED FOR #IM LIKE JK ROWLING BUT POOR #IM TRULY THE WEAKEST LINK

8 notes · View notes

i-will-physically-fight-you · 6 years ago

Text

A Hypothesis

Title: A Hypothesis

Summary: If there was one word that described the hero, it was just that; hope. The hero was perpetually hopeful that there was good in every person. He was hopeful in happy endings. He was hopeful that things could change for the better in the current system.

So why was Catton standing at the door of his latest laboratory, looking up at him through eyes so disheartened? Eyes that looked so defeated—so hopeless?

Superhero!AU

Pairings: platonic logicality

Words: 2737

Warnings: self-deprecation, depression, suicidal implications, death mention (no major character death I promise), deceit mention

This is based off this text post by @messythoughtsandscribbledplots that I’ve seen floating around. @stillebesat did a fantastic version with prinixety. But I thought I’d try my hand at it with Logicality ;)

If there was one thing that a mad scientist could always count on in a super-infested world, was that there was always a hero that stepped in the way of progress. Not that Dr. Logan Lockwood saw himself as mad, as mad people are rarely wont to do.

Nor did he see himself as evil—though many people would prescribe that label to him. Some people argued he was simply an anti-hero, but frankly Logan could care less. The labels of good and evil are arguably meaningless in the grand scheme of things.

It was unfortunate he happened to live in a world that insisted on viewing things so black and white. They refused to see the barrage of greys that shaded their streets. A person who committed a crime had to be evil. Never mind that it was an act driven by desperation. Driven by the lack of care society had on actually fixing their problems. They refused to see how their ignorance was their downfall.

Take the hero that frequently attempted to stop his plans for instance. Catton was the typical hero—annoyingly naïve and cheerful. He sprouted off puns and dad jokes that made Logan’s teeth gnash in irritation. But there was something to be said of the hero’s genuineness.

There was a lot of heroes who donned a suit just for the fame and glory, Prince Charming was one of them. But Catton was the rare few who helped just to help out others. He refused sponsorship offers. He did the little stuff, like saving cats out of trees and helping grannies across the street. It made it all the more frustrating when Catton refused to see the truth dancing across his eyes.

He remained stubborn in his view of good and evil. He constantly begged for Logan to give up his plans, to return to the light side in a sense. Logan scoffed at the very notion. Even if he agreed to Catton’s wishes, it wasn’t that simple. He’d done too much damage��it was too late to go back. The best he could hope for was life in prison.

Still, the hero asked every time—his pleading smile never breaking. Catton was such an emotional fool. A smarter hero would’ve given up on the fifth try. Anyone could see that Logan remained resolute in his plans. But Catton clung to his wishes, hopeful that Logan would change his mind.

If there was one word that described the hero, it was just that; hope. The hero was perpetually hopeful that there was good in every person. He was hopeful in happy endings. He was hopeful that things could change for the better in the current system.

So why was Catton standing at the door of his latest laboratory, looking up at him through eyes so disheartened? Eyes that looked so defeated—so hopeless?

“I will admit, I didn’t plan for our game of cat and mouse to begin so early.” Logan said, lips twitching, “I suppose this means I’ll have to relocate my—”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Catton interrupted.

The four words caused Logan to pause in his tracks. There was something about them that produced a sensation in his chest. It was an emotion and Logan was never good at deciphering emotions. But he was sure that this particular one was a negative emotion. Sadness? Anger? Revulsion?

It was not directed at Catton, but at whoever or whatever caused him to say those words.

He stayed silent, analyzing Catton closer. He was no Sherlock Holmes, although he was very much fond of that man. When he was younger and less callous of the world he cosplayed him at several conventions. Once his former roommate made a fanfiction featuring himself as a replacement of Watson. Logan would deny it to the hills and back, but that fanfic held a place of honor among the classics on Logan’s bookshelf.

It was snowing this evening—not a blizzard but a light dusting. Catton never complained about the snow; he could be found conducting snowball fights or building snowmen with children. But despite his suit’s thick insulation, he was shivering, and Logan doubted it was because of the snow itself.

The hero’s hair was always unkempt and messy—but today it looked greasy and almost matted. Dark circles clung underneath the hero’s eyes—threatening to weigh them like bowling balls. It was clear that Catton had not been taking proper care of himself.

Another wretched emotion entered Logan’s being—shock. Although it was always a possibility, he never accounted for Catton to be capable of anything but cheery. Nothing leading up to this could seem to break the man’s optimism. In days past, Logan dreamed of the moment where Catton broke free of his naivety.

Now the day had come, and Logan, staring down at the man in front of him, realized he now desired none of that. It wasn’t right—it felt wrong to see Catton practically sitting at his feet, crushed and defeated.

He opened his mouth a few times but found himself speechless. Catton took a shallow breath, his figure trembling.

“I can’t do this. I—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to keep fighting. Just…just k-kill me. Or lock me up. Or whatever you’ve been planning this whole time, I don’t care anymore. But I can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t…I can’t keep fighting you—"

Catton fell onto the ground as his words dissolved into sobs. Something pressed against Logan’s chest. There was so many emotions swirling inside the scientist that he felt nauseous. But this emotion was fierce and shouted over the clanging of the others. It demanded to be listened to—to be obeyed by Logan himself.

Compelled by this strange emotion, Logan moved forward towards the hero.

“Hush, little kitten, who did this to you?” He spoke, drawing Catton’s figure into his arms.

He was afraid for a moment he had made things worse. Catton had flinched when he spoke and seemed paralyzed in shock by his gentle touch. He’d heard that soft words and positive physical touch helped calm others down. He figured it had the same effect on Catton and he was relieved as the hero slowly relaxed completely in his arms. Trust Catton to immediately trust someone after they show a sign of goodwill.

He still sobbed against Logan’s frame, if anything he sobbed louder. He looked so weak and weary when he looked up at Logan, his sobs dissipating. He looked like he wanted to continue crying—but had lost the energy to do so.

Logan bit his lip. He could barely understand his own emotions, much less the emotions of somebody else. But the last thing he was going to was leave the hero stranded in the cold in such a state of emotional duress.

Catton had practically asked him to kill him after all. He probably came to Logan as the two had a rivalry—a history. Catton quickly became established as his main adversary. In fact, Logan sometimes refused to fight anyone but Catton. He claimed it was because he knew Catton’s attack patterns the best. While that was true, there was also another underlying reason.

He was…fond of Catton. The puns had admittedly grown on him, though that’d be the last thing he’d ever admit to Catton. Despite his numerous attacks on Catton’s intelligence—he was smarter than other heroes Logan encountered. It was illogical to the success of his plans, but well—Logan liked a challenge.

Logan, however, wasn’t the only villain that Catton faced. If he turned away Catton now, he might go to one of the others with the same request. Logan doubted any of them would be as kind as him. They’d seize such an opportunity to humiliate him further or off him right off the bat. Especially if he went to a certain snake.

“Why don’t you come inside and have a cup of tea?” He suggested, pulling out of the hug.

“What?” Catton asked, dumbfounded. Which, he had a right to react in such a way.

Logan preferred to remain distant and cold despite Catton’s best attempts otherwise. It appeared, however, that despite the odds, Catton’s attempts worked after all. It was illogical for Logan to offer aid to an enemy. It hindered his plans. But logic went out the door the second he opened it to see a downtrodden Catton.

“You implied I could do whatever I wanted with you,” Logan rose an eyebrow, “I’m asking for you to join me inside. It’s warmer there, and you may have a cup of tea if you’d like. I promise on Albert Einstein’s grave that you’ll be safe there.”

‘I won’t let you be harmed by them anymore.’ Logan mentally added onto that statement.

An extra burst of air went through Catton’s nose which Logan took to mean he found his oath by Albert Einstein’s grave to be amusing. It was the first sign he’d seen of the old Catton and the villain would take it.

“Okay.” Catton whispered, and followed after Logan inside the laboratory, through its’ winding hallways. He peered around, wary of any potential traps. A logical reaction for one not used to strolling through a mad scientist’s residency peacefully.

Logan opened a door and led him into his personal quarters. Catton gasped at the homely sight. Straight ahead there was a small hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom. To the left of where they stood was a sitting area with chairs and walls lines with bookshelves. A fireplace crackled away merrily. It was quaint and outdated but it reminded Logan of his childhood days in boy scouts. He’d almost been an eagle scout until that one incident occurred.

The right side of the quarters opened up to a small kitchen area, with enough space for a small table and two chairs. Logan wasn’t sure why he invested in more than one chair—it wasn’t like he had guests.

He turned to look at the hero, who still looked in awe of the place.

“What, did you believe I came out of a test tube in a laboratory somewhere?” He drily asked, withholding a chuckle.

“N-n-no, I just—well I guess I never thought of you having a life outside of a lab.” Catton sheepishly admitted, his lips chattering.

Logan frowned, observing how the hero wrapped his arms around himself. Perhaps the cold had affected him more than Logan had presumed.

“Why don’t you warm yourself by the fire while I make the tea?” He said. He didn’t wait for answer as he strolled towards the kitchen and grabbed his kettle. While he waited for the whistle, he stole glances towards the hero sitting huddled by the fire. What was going on in his head?

It was moments like these that Logan wished he could read minds.

“Here you go,” Logan said, at last bringing the tea to Catton. The hero hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking it.

Two sipped quietly for a minute or two before Logan couldn’t quell his curiosity any further.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier.”

“Which one?” Catton asked, absentmindedly stirring his tea with his finger.

“Who hurt you?”

The hero stared down at the contents of the teacup, “No one—I’m not—no one hurt me, Logan. See I don’t have any bruises or broken bones—to make no bones about it!”

Catton giggled at his joke—strained and wound-up like a wind-up toy. An obvious ploy at deflection.

“I don’t mean physically, Catton. I mean emotionally.”

“I’m fine—”

“Falsehood,” Logan interrupted, “you clearly are not fine. It is obvious you have not showered in several days nor retained an adequate amount of sleep. Furthermore, people who are fine do not go to their archnemesis and beg them to practically kill them. So again, I ask, who hurt you?”

The hero’s smile fell entirely. He slumped over and took on the weariness of a man thirty years his senior. It felt wrong to see Catton in such a state. He’d always came off as a weird dichotomy of a father figure and inner child rolled into one.

“I’m just so…tired. I thought I could make things better—make things safer. I tried—tried so hard, but it never ends. There’re always more bad guys to fight, more crises to avert. If—if anything I’ve just made things worse. Do you know how many have died this year alone from super fights?”

“Don’t—”

“One-thousand five hundred and nine deaths,” Catton said, his hands trembling as he held onto his cup, “One-thousand five hundred and nine deaths that I inflicted.”

Logan gently pried the teacup out of his hands.

“You can’t look at it that way, Catton. Think about the amount of lives you saved—”

“If wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t be dead!” He shouted, “You don’t get it. There are supervillains who’ve traveled here from all over the world to cause havoc just to personally fight me. They just treat it like it’s—it’s a game. Then there’s the villains that I…created.”

“Catton, no. Deceit is not your fault.”

“If I had just known—if I hadn’t reacted in that way—” Catton hiccupped, “I thought if I could just keep smiling—I could just make one more joke—save the city one more time everything would be fine. But I can’t—I can’t do it anymore, Logan. Please.”

The hero looked up at him, wide-eyed and pleading. Logan sighed, setting down his own cup on the coffee table.

“I am not going to kill or torture you, if that is what you think I’m going to do. In fact, I’m a bit peeved you would think so lowly of me.”

“You always threatened me with it.” Catton said, his lips wobbling.

“Well, that was just typical villain drivel, I thought you’d be smart enough to know that, Catton.” Logan scoffed, though he was secretly glad to see Catton’s lips twitch upwards in amusement. He continued on, “besides, doing either of those two things would solve nothing. Especially since you are undeserving of either of those two fates.”

“But I am deserving—”

“Falsehood,” Logan said, holding up a hand, “it’s not your fault—it’s society’s fault that the system remains broken. Do you think removing yourself from the equation will change anything? There would just be further chaos regardless if a new hero steps up or not. You kept doing the same thing and expected different results, which is the definition of insanity. Ironic, considering people call me a mad scientist. If you want to change the world—you have to change how the world thinks.

“Furthermore, your life is valuable. The odds of your existence are infinitesimal—and yes, I am using that word correctly this time! Your existence is unique, and it is doubtless that it would be incredibly missed by others and by…me.”

Catton gazed at him for a moment. Its unnerved Logan, because Catton had never been the type to silently process things. But perhaps, he didn’t know Catton as well as he thought he did. Finally, Catton broke into a grin.

“Aw, Logan, so you do care about me.” Catton teased, close to tears. Hopefully happy tears this time.

“Yes, well, I suppose I do care about you as a friend, Catton.”

“Patton.”

“What?”

“My real name is Patton Pattison,” He sheepishly fidgeted under Logan’s shocked gaze, “What? It felt weird that I know your real name when you don’t even know mine.”

“Are you saying that your superhero name is a self-referential pun?” Logan’s eyebrow twitched.

“Maaaybe.” Patton said, laughing at Logan’s groan.

He quickly slipped back into a more serious demeanor, “I just—I don’t know if I can do that, Logan. Change society, I mean. I still want to help people but—I’m still exhausted. Is it selfish for me to just want a normal life?”

Logan’s gaze softened, “I’m probably not the best person answer that question—but perhaps the best way to change the world isn’t through becoming a superhero or even a mad scientist. Maybe…there’s other ways to do it.”

“Like…living a normal life?”

“Perhaps, but that is only a hypothesis,” Logan winked, “would you be willing to test it out with me?”

General Tag List: @karebearmay@punsterterry@cryingtitan@ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2@usothemarshmallow@madly-handsome @i-just-wanna-be-alone-blog @remy-alagaesias-dragon-queen @ashrain5 @otaku-marijane@pathos-logical @moonstone-fox @fandergecko@themarijuanamason @impromptu-sanity @a-pastel-pan@cyberchick56 @yourhappypappypatton

#thomas sanders #sander sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #kat writes #I wrote this instead of my big bang today #but honestly I've missed having a random burst of inspiration after weeks of struggling to write

208 notes · View notes