#wolf works a boring office job but spends her free time helping at the local dog shelter

[galionne-vibin]

MGS AU where the FOXHOUND gang survives and maybe through some legal loophole they manage to not end up in prison BUT they can never be employed in anything remotely close to the military anymore because. you know. So they gotta make ends meet through different means

Anyway what I'm saying is MGS AU where Liquid has to work at McDonald's

[florenceandthemachine]

i need u to talk to me about stiles and jackson and their baby girl. i need u to talk to me about how they name her claudia and how they spoil the actual everloving shit out of her and how all the single moms at the supermarket lose their entire minds when they see jackson walking around with her strapped to his chest and how stiles absolutely cannot blame them because his man is literally the world’s biggest dilf. i need u to talk to me about happy domestic stackson thank u and goodnight.

Honestly boo, I told you I had to prepare for this and sit down at a computer and I accidentally wrote a novel. But I had to, because here’s the thing.

Nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.

Stiles would start recounting the happiest moments in his life by talking about the time he almost died in high school (he remembers it fondly). Not because he’s fond of the fact that he almost died, but because while he was lying on Deatons table, bleeding out, pixie claws still dug too deeply into his chest, Jackson kissed him for the first time. Jackson was crying, and he was crying, and Jackson was begging him to stay alive, and Stiles, honestly, could have died a happy man right then and there with Jackson kissing him.

He and Jackson get married, less than a year after Stiles graduates with his masters in mythology and Jackson finishes an associates degree in Criminal Justice. Stiles gets a part time job in a local library, and Jackson starts work as his dads newest officer, and Stiles never lets him forget how good the uniform looks on him; and, he thinks as he looks over Jackson, writhing beneath him, cuffed to the headboard, it looks even better off of him.

(The wedding is a small ceremony, with the pack and Stiles’ dad there. Stiles cries the entire time. Jackson only makes fun of him a little. When the justice of the peace asks if they’ll be hyphenating their last names, Jackson snorts and takes Stiles hand and “no, absolutely not. I’ve been waiting my entire life to be a Stilinski.” Stiles cries again. Jackson just beams at him, the asshole.

[Later that night, Lydia almost passes out when a group of rouge banshees breech their territory, screeching like… well, banshees. It happens during their wedding reception, of course, because as previously stated, nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.])

They live together. They love each other. They love the pack. They still do things like patrols, once in a while, and of course it’s during a patrol that their life flips again.

They’ve only been back in town for a week after taking some time off for their wedding anniversary when they come across a woman on the side of the road. Jackson is still in full uniform and swoops in (Stiles swoons, he can admit it) to help the very dirty, very young woman, and her very small, very loud, very much a newborn, infant. The woman is crying, talking about how she didn’t mean for this to happen, she doesn’t know what to do, and the baby is crying because it’s a baby. Stiles is out of the car right behind Jackson, jacket in arms, ready to help warm the baby up.

In hindsight, he probably should have realized something was up when the woman seemed all too eager to let Stiles take the child from her. Because in less than three seconds, when Jackson and he are both focused on the baby, the woman is gone.

Whelp.

~

Jackson takes to caring for a child immediately. While Stiles is meeting with a social worker and loading a bassinet into the Jeep, Jackson bounces her in his arms—god, she couldn’t be more than three months old—and Stiles has to stop himself from looking, worried he might start to want something he can’t have. High school Stiles would have been shocked by the sight, but older, wiser Stiles knows that Jackson is one of the most caring, warm people on the planet, just beneath a crunchy exterior. Stiles loves him for it, so much, but watching the two of them interact makes his bones ache. The social worker assures him it will be temporary. Two weeks at the most, before they’re able to find some blood relation.

Two weeks turns into three, and three turns into five, and soon Stiles has worked their routine around a child that they just call “baby” because they have no right to name it (“and besides, Jacks, it’s not like she’ll remember any of this anyway”).

Stiles is glad, though, that he’s not the first one to approach the topic of adoption. Their idiot social worker does, when five weeks turns into three months with no luck. The topic comes up, about what a match they would be, and how well they work with the baby, and Stiles rudely cuts her off by dragging Jackson into the hall, knowing that Jackson wolfing out was the least of their concerns if the conversation carried on any further down that path.

Because at the mere mention of adoption, confident, smooth Jackson almost broke Stiles hand squeezing so hard. His eyes widen minutely, his smile freezes in place, and to the untrained eye, it might seem like Jackson was just a little surprised. Stiles knows Jackson well enough to know that his husband just plunged into a hell of his own making, through stress and fears and issues that years of therapy have eased, but not entirely. Sure enough, no sooner than the door closes is Jackson leaned against the wall, clutching Stiles close to him, breathing in his scent as Stiles soothes him.

His heart is breaking as he tells Jackson it’s okay. They don’t have to adopt her. It’s just an option. And he knows he’s a terrible liar but he isn’t lying when he said he would never ask Jackson to do anything that he isn’t comfortable with.

It takes a good twenty minutes before Jackson calms down enough to pull back from the embrace, eyes red with tears and hands shaking. But it’s with the same stubborn determination that he approaches everything with—everything he really wants—even if his voice is shaking when he meets Stiles eyes.

“I want, Stiles. I… I do. With you.”

Stiles can only smile, his heart soaring, terrified but optimistic. He clears his throat to speak, but once more, Jackson beats him to the punch.

“We could name her Claudia.”

Stiles is crying again.

~

Less than a week later, as Stiles is pouring over every single parenting book he could find, Jackson makes a grand entrance into their bedroom and announces that he got Claudia to go to sleep. In the same breath, he tells Stiles that he’s transferred his entire inheritance into a college fund in her name.

Stiles drops the book he’s holding and pulls Jackson to the bed with such vigor (in the name of higher education) that he’s shocked they don’t end up waking the baby.

~

They are both passable parents, but if you ask either of them, it’s because Claudia is such a chill fucking baby. She cries when she’s hungry and that’s about it. She naps when she wants to, she chatters when she wants to, she giggles and grabs Jackson’s sideburns when he wolfs out for her amusement. She has Jackson wrapped around her finger in no time flat, and when she takes her first steps well before her first birthday, Jackson is the asshole dad in Mommy and Me class talking about how advanced his baby is. Stiles would find it really annoying, but something about watching Jackson push a shopping cart with a baby strapped to his chest makes him forget anything but love. He’s a sap.

Getting Jackson one of those baby bjorn things was the best ideas of Stiles’ entire life, because there was nothing that Stiles loved more than watching Jackson go on his early morning run, in a tank top and shorts, nasty green smoothie in hand—and a baby strapped to his chest. Stiles wasn’t sure what he loved more—getting the early morning kiss from his husband (and puckering up to smack one on his daughters head), or the deeper, sweatier, longer kiss that Jackson woke him up with after coming back from his run, which Stiles regularly fed back into, tugging Jackson into the bed without a second thought.

Jackson loved any time he could spend with his daughter, but his favorite times by far were the random days that he had off. Call him... boring, or old fashioned, or lame, or— “Jackson, shut up. There is nothing wrong with spending time with your family. We’re your family, you idiot, we love spending time with you too.” ...well, whatever the case, he loved it. Running errands on a Saturday became a family affair. 

The old ladies in the natural grocer near their home love them. Stiles take full advantage of that, kissing his husband and cooing at his baby whenever they’re nearby to score an extra free sample of free range bacon or to get the latest gossip from the retirement home. He has a few of them on Sheriff Watch, and it would honestly be sad that Stiles’ dad couldn’t eat a jelly doughnut anywhere in town without Stiles knowing about it If it weren’t so funny.

Stiles finds his natural enemies in the yoga moms, though. Or at least, he would, if Jackson wasn’t Jackson. He could honestly watch hours of these single moms trying to flirt with Jackson in the produce aisle, while Stiles is standing right next to him, only to have Jackson completely dote on their kid and completely ignore them. He only intervenes once, when a busty blond thirty something mother of three reaches forward to pinch Claudia’s cheek. Stiles smiles, reaches forward, gently pulls the woman’s wrist away, and tells her that if she ever touches his daughter again, he will break her arm.

So maybe Jackson wasn’t the only one Claudia had wrapped around her pudgy fingers.

~

Claudia’s first word is “Papa”, directed solely at Jackson, and Stiles... well, Stiles couldn’t even find it in himself to be jealous, because Jackson was staring at Claudia in shock and wonder, and Stiles is falling in love all over again with him. Jackson takes in a deep breath and smiles, letting her grab on to both of his fingers, his voice crushingly soft as he nods his head.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m your Papa, and you’re my baby girl. Can you say baby? Bayyy-bee?”

She giggles and smacks him in the cheek, and the moment is over, but Jackson’s smile will be burned into Stiles brain forever. 

(Two months later, Jackson is trying to get a clean onesie on a very fussy Claudia when Stiles walks in, and she goes ramrod straight in his arms, reaching for Stiles, making grabby motions and yelling “Dada! Dada!” in her adorably desperate little baby voice. Jackson feels his heart swell as Stiles jaw hits the floor, but only for a moment, before he swoops in and plucks their daughter from his arms.)

~

Things are easy with them, and honestly, Stiles should have been suspicious—because, rule of thumb, nothing is ever easy with Stiles and Jackson. Claudia is two and things are easy. Claudia is two and she falls while toddling across the kitchen. Claudia is two and Stiles is picking her up, comforting her while Jackson kisses her booboo. Claudia is two, in Stiles arms, her tears turning into laughter. Claudia is two, and she hiccups, and suddenly Claudia has golden eyes, sharp little nails, and an alarming amount of facial hair for a two year old.

Stiles and Jackson both freeze—Stiles, because in all the parenting books he has read, nothing has prepared him for the possibility of raising a werewolf baby. Jackson freezes for a slightly more dramatic reason, his own eyes burning blue in response to his daughters gold, mouth hanging open in shock. She’s not crying anymore, at least, and Stiles can count that as a win. Hell, out of the three of them, the person who is most surprised is Claudia, who is now giggling and smacking Stiles’ cheeks, clearly enjoying the hollow sound his gaping mouth makes when hit.

Stiles immediately invites everyone over, thinking it would be easier to show everyone in person. Derek will need to do some Alpha thing to cement her place in the pack, he rationalizes, pacing the living room while texting up a storm, and Jackson... Jackson is nervous for reasons he doesn’t fully know how to articulate, bouncing Claudia on his hip. He’s come a long way since he was the angry, self obsessed sixteen year old, asking for the bite, and he knows that, but there will always be a small part of him that worries Derek is on the verge of kicking him out. He’s can feel his heart picking up as he starts to sink into his own thoughts, because what if Derek—

He doesn't get a chance to follow that rabbit hole, because a tiny, disgruntled noise is all it takes from Claudia to garner Stiles entire attention, and it isn’t even a second before Stiles is up close and personal.

“I know that look. Jackson, stop thinking. This doesn’t change anything—they already love her, and they already love you. Now they just know to count her in for future training sessions and full moon parties. Breathe, baby. Claudia and I are here to stay.”

Jackson doesn’t know when his anchor expanded to include their daughter, but honestly, it probably always did.

Erica and Boyd show up first, Erica heavily pregnant with their own kid, and Scott and Kira arrive shortly after—they’ve been looking into following their lead in the adoption game, though Stiles secretly wished any adoption they go through was no where near as eventful as theirs. Derek arrives last, unintentionally making the dramatic entrance he’s known for, and he is barely in the door for a half moment before he freezes, eyes wide, looking at the baby in Jackson’s arms. 

In his surprise, he moves quickly, too quick for Jackson’s liking—Derek is an arms reach away from him and Jackson growls, his eyes flaring blue, instinctively clutching Claudia closer to his chest. Stiles swallows and grips Jackson’s hand a little tighter, gearing up for this to be A Thing, and the rest of them are equally confused, considering they are still looking at a purely human child. One that Derek has babysat for, for fucks sake. Derek, though, has a huge grin on his face, and moves much slower as he reaches to put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. 

Derek takes a knee and takes Claudia’s little pudgy hand in his own, and honestly, it would be a hilarious sight, except Derek’s eyes are burning red and Claudia wolfs out immediately, sitting shock still, mesmerized by Derek’s own eyes. It only lasts for a moment before she’s screams with joy, reaching for Derek’s sideburns, but Derek is already standing again, pulling Stiles and Jackson into a hug. The air almost crackles with electricity and even tiny, human Stiles feels something settle as the new pack bond takes form, with Derek’s arms tight around the two of them—

—the three of them, sorry, because Claudia is currently giggling like a fool from where she’s more or less suspended between the two wolves.

~

It was kind of perfect. Derek’s first beta raising the first born wolf of their new pack. If Stiles could pause that moment in time, he would have. Because raising a toddler was easy when Claudia was a relatively chill human baby. Now, though, it was like she had been saving up all her energy for the past two years—and now that her wolf was awake, it was time to let it loose.

Claudia became a terror. A terror they loved, of course, but a terror none the less because apparently “the terrible twos” were a very real thing, even for werewolves. She pushed every limit and every boundary, getting to the point where even Derek was wary about agreeing to babysit—Derek, the worlds biggest pushover when it came to babies. “No” became her favorite word at two—by three, it was “stop”—and when she was four, she had only one thing to say to a very sleep deprived, very emotional Stiles when he brought down the wrong pair of shoes for their weekly trip to see Papa for lunch.

“No, daddy, no! I want blue shoes, not green shoes! You never listen to me! I hate you! I hate you!”

Stiles was aware that he’s probably a little hysterical at that point—but when he hears that, something inside of him just breaks. He drops the shoes and just stands there and has to remind himself to breathe, and suddenly he’s crying, and somehow Claudia’s tantrum is over before it even begins. The first tear falls, and then ten seconds later his arms are full of his daughter, frantically scrambling to be close to him, apologizing profusely for being mean, her shouts turning into tears of her own.

Stiles is beyond comprehension at this point, but it feels like a switch has been flipped, as he and his daughter dissolve into tears while sitting on the kitchen floor.

At some point, Jackson comes home when he realizes he’s being stood up for lunch. They had more or less calmed down; though they were still on the kitchen floor, Stiles had fished his tablet off of the counter and was entertaining her with old pictures—of his mother, of Jackson in high school, of her as a baby. 

He had just flicked to a picture of the three of them on Claudia’s adoption day—Stiles was beaming at the camera as his dad snapped a photo, and Jackson had a look of wonder on his face, looking down at the tiny baby swaddled in Jackson’s arms. Like he was summoned by the photo itself, Jackson comes in through the side door after parking his cruiser, takes less than three seconds to assess the situation (husband and child; on floor. scents; tears and sadness. threat level; moderate.) before shucking his utility belt and his badge and scooping them both into his arms. Claudia is crying again, but softer this time, still worn out from her earlier tantrum, apologizing in between hiccups for being so mean, but nothing could prepare either of them for the tumble of words that leaves her lips as she buries her face into Jackson’s shoulder.

“You and Daddy are still gonna keep me, right?”

Jackson is heartbroken, but... not surprised. He had gone through the same thing, more times than he can count, growing up. His parents had always brushed it off with platitudes—don’t be silly, Jackson, you’re overreacting Jackson. He finally had the chance to right some of their wrongs, the seriousness in his voice reflecting 

“You got mad, and that happens sometimes. Daddy and I can get mad sometimes too. But we never stay mad at one another, and we always apologize, right sweetpea?”

He waits for Claudia to nod before he continues, aware that Stiles is staring at him too.

“Well, you already apologized to Daddy and I. You apologized because you realize you made a mistake, and it’s okay to make mistakes. You apologize because you love us, and we love you too. We love you, Claudia. And we are never, ever going to let you go.”

(Stiles and Claudia fall asleep in Jackson’s arms, and Jackson takes a selfie, sending it to the sheriff with an apology for missing his afternoon shift. He waits until the Sheriff responds, with a laughing emoji of all things [who taught him how to do that?!], before uploading it to their digital album too.)

~

When Claudia turns five, she begs for a ladybug party at the Hale House with all her “woofpack”. Honestly, Stiles was just thankful that Derek was an absolute pushover for all of the kids in the pack—between all of their original betas, there were six little rats running around at any given time, four of which were human, and Derek was a sucker for all of them.

(Boyd and Erica’s son had popped his fangs five days earlier. Claudia is ecstatic to have a new member of her woofpack. Jackson spends a lot of time playing with the baby chubby cheeks. Stiles grins and gives them a very brief warning about the terrible twos, before calling this karmic payback for the time Erica clocked him with a piece of his own Jeep, because he will never let that go.)

Stiles was just happy that it meant he didn’t have to clean up after the party, even if he did spend the entire night beforehand icing about a million ladybug cupcakes.

“It was three dozen, Stiles, and you’re the one who didn’t want to pay a baker to make them.”

“Aw, thanks babe, your devotion and respect for me really knows no bounds.”

Jackson smirks at him and Stiles smooshes a cupcake against his nose, throwing his head back in laughter as Jackson pulls back, looking incredibly offended. They’re on the second story balcony overlooking the yard, and Stiles is only half paying attention to Jackson’s protests as he hears shrieks of joy coming from the grass below. Their daughter is running through the field with a red and black cape flying behind her, eyes gold with mirth as she avoids Erica’s outstretched hand in what appears to be a very fair game of tag.

He lets his free hand sneak into Jackson’s, like it was some kind of secret—Jackson, who has no chill, pulls him close, arms going around him from behind. Stiles laughs again as he turns to his husband, basking in the warmth that pools in his chest with another happy shriek sounds from his family below.

“Hey Jacks?”

“Yeah baby?”

Nothing in Stiles and Jackson’s life has ever been easy.

“… I want another one.”

And neither of them would change a damn thing.

[docmary]

Food Insecurity-We may not live by bread alone, but neither do we live without it.

The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough to those who have little.  Franklin D. Roosevelt

It has been my good fortune to have been able to support myself (barely at times) doing the work that I love, being a naturopathic doctor, for most of my adult life. I remember a sign in my tax preparers office that read: “The joys of owning your own business, not unlike the joys of natural childbirth, have been greatly exaggerated.” Or something like that. There are certainly those in my profession that have been financially successful along with the intrinsic rewards of helping people, but I was not one of them.

And then I got cancer. And not dying became my full-time job. On the side I also worked as a home health aide and I made little money but also had little in the way of responsibility. I also relied on programs like Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP), also known as food stamps to survive.

I am doing well now. I have relocated from Alaska (my home of 30 years) to Washington state where I grew up, so that I could be closer to family. I was fortunate in that I had family to take me in while I figured out my next moves. Some are not so lucky.

I started volunteering at the Sky Valley Food Bank in my new community as a way to build my social network. I was blessed with the instant camaraderie of many fellow and sister volunteers, and paid staff, who were joined in a single purpose: support the mission of eliminating hunger. Every week we provided food for an average of 261 families, enough for 10 meals per person. This amounts to more than 75,000 pounds of food distributed every month—almost one million pounds per year.

And Then Came COVID-19

According to data from the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), some 13.7 million households (10.5% of all households), experienced food insecurity at some point in 2019. That is 35 million Americans who were either unable to acquire enough food to meet their needs, or uncertain of where their next meal might come from.

In one study that came out in June 2020, researchers asked: “In the last seven days, which of these statements best describes the food eaten in your household?”

 Enough of the food we wanted to eat

 Enough, but not always the kind of food we wanted to eat

 Sometimes not enough to eat

 Often not enough to eat.

According to these researchers, since 2019, food insecurity has doubled overall and tripled in households with children.*

The Ripple Effects of Hunger

Not having access to healthy food has ripple effects of chronic ill health, disability, stress, and worsening poverty. These problems did not start with COVID-19, but the pandemic has made even more glaring the differences in the quality of life between “those who have much [and] those who have little.” This kind of safety net, that supplies sustenance to those in need, makes good economic sense. Adults who have a disability, in particular a disability and are not in the workforce, also experience more than twice the rate of food insecurity as adults who do not have a disability.

At our local food bank, we were unable to have our customers shop in-doors like we had in the past safely. We were shut down but found a way to deliver boxes of food to the porches of 125 families in the area. We also drastically cut down on the number of volunteers that could be in our warehouse per day which translates to fewer people doing more physically demanding work. The good news is that people from the community, from gardeners, to private businesses, to social service organizations, and individuals found ways to help Sky Valley Food Bank carry out the mission.**

School Closures and Vulnerable Students

With schools being shut down, students were no longer able to receive meals at their schools at a reduced price or free as they had in the past. This was not just a local problem, across the country nutrition directors reported that they were serving fewer meals than when school was in session. Last spring, the School Nutrition Association surveyed 2000 districts that reported 80% were serving fewer meals. Of those, the majority said the number of meals had dropped by 50% or more.

Most areas relied on the food pick up model that they usually did in the summer months where families could drop by their local school each day, often between 11-1, and pick up a bag lunch and maybe breakfast. But as parents started returning to work, the pickup model did not always work if parents were not always able to take children to the drop off site at the right time.

In Fulton County Georgia and Tucson Arizona, nutrition programs started packing food including frozen hamburgers and pizza, enough for a week’s worth of meals, and sending them out on school buses to be distributed at bus stops where the lowest income families typically resided.***

Food Deserts

In the best of times getting adequate nutrition is especially challenging for people who live in a “food desert.” The definition of a food desert can change depending on where you live. In urban areas, you need to live more than a mile away from a grocery store. For rural areas, you live more then 10 miles away. According to Feeding America, rural areas make up 63% of counties in the US and 87% of counties with high rates of food insecurity. In 2015, 19 million people lived in a food desert and 2.1 million households both lived in a food desert and lacked access to a vehicle according to the USDA.

The Shifting Model of Getting Food to the Food Insecure

In the summertime at Sky Valley Food Bank, we were able to greet our long-time customers, and many new ones, that were able to shop in our outdoor market. I loved being able to chat with our customers and find out how they were getting along. From my own experience, I can say that accepting help for something as necessary as feeding myself was a blow to my ego. Thank goodness I got over that. Being able to help my fellow and sister humans, regardless of why they were our customers is something I treasure.

Like many school districts around the country, our schools were not able to open in September. We partnered with our public schools to set up food pantries in five of our schools. We also had the return of rainy weather and the outdoor market was not an option. We began having a drive through service where our staff would build boxes of food for distribution in people’s cars. We were now serving 325 families and had special “Holiday” boxes in November and December, along with the usual boxes of meat, dairy, dry goods, canned goods, grains, produce, and food for their four-legged household members. Getting two boxes is better than one box, especially during the holidays.

In December we also had a toy drive that garnered an incredible assortment of toys from community members. It is remarkable how much our community does to provide for people having a tough time—food, toys, money—all gratefully accepted. The parents were able to pick out toys for their kids. 

We are looking forward to having our customers back in our service area to carefully select the foods they want for themselves and their loved ones. We are looking forward to giving them the kind of respectful service we always have and continue to provide. COVID or no COVID.

LONE WOLF

I am a lone wolf.

I have lost my pack.

My sire was the first to go. The alfa.

His job to protect the pack, especially from each other, fell to no one.

I grew up with the bitch who was two years my elder.

Always the more adventurous one. She was gone

Before her pups were fully grown.

And they are lost to me.

 The she-wolf who bore me tried desperately to keep the pack together.

“Come home. Why don’t you move back home?”

She grew old, frail, a little crazy

A kind of crazy that was always there but kept in check by the alpha.

 The older bitch is gone too.

When did the word bitch become derogatory?

I reclaim that title. It suits me.

It suits those of us who live in a world where self sufficiency is prized above all

And sentimentality is a luxury.

 Another sire gone. Was it really eight years ago?

He left to be with Jesus.

I think he’s food for flora and fauna.

Who’s to say?

 My brother looks up from the hard work of dying

All traces of silliness and the infectious laughter that is his calling card are gone

And the world is just a bit more lonely.

 The rest of the pack is dispersed.

Do they prowl in search of the familiar?

Of course they do. (howl)

*IPR.northwester.edu/documents/reports/ipr-rapid-research-reports-pulse-hh-data-10-june-2020.pdf

**Helpful Hint: when  thinking of donating food to the food bank, treat the task of going through your pantry the same way you go through your closet—three piles; keep, donate, throw away. You don’t donate clothes that are ripped or stained. You throw them away. The food bank volunteers spend a lot of time sorting through donations. We cannot serve food that is spoiled or way, way, way past the pull date, or that has been opened. Thanks.

***NPR.org/2020/09/08/908442609/children-are-going-hungry-why-schools-are-struggling-to-feed-students

[mbtizone]

Piper Chapman (Orange Is the New Black): ENFP

Dominant Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: Piper is full of ideas. She gets a thrill out of adventure and typically has no trouble leaping into the unfamiliar. She’s attracted to Alex’s lifestyle and is excited by all of the possibilities in life. Piper likes to travel and see new places. She’s an idealist who is always focused on the big picture. Piper flits around between different projects and causes. During the riot, Piper jumps from activity to activity and can’t sit still for more than a few minutes, much to the irritation of Alex. She’s creative and, prior to her incarceration, ran a business where she and her friend made their own soaps. Piper decides to begin the Litchfield newsletter, creating the content and distributing it (Ne-Te). Sometimes, Piper can loop, causing her to neglect her auxiliary function. She gets an idea and she dives right in without checking in with her morals or her values. She sees a way of making money by selling panties worn by the inmates online, and she soon adopts an authoritative and controlling demeanor. Sometimes, Piper can get so caught up in her ideas and schemes that she begins to lose herself, causing some strain in her relationships. Piper does a lot of what she does on a whim, and can become bored, restless, and disinterested in what she has. She’s always looking to the next thing, sometimes taking for granted what she actually has.

Auxiliary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: It’s important for Piper to have a cause to champion. She is often motivated to take a stand against anything she considers to be unjust. During the riot, Alex is upset with Piper because Alex just wants to enjoy the tiny window of free time that they’ll have together for a very long time, but Piper wants to take action. She spends her time organizing a memorial for Poussey (Fi-Te). When she finds out that the only demand that was met was their request for Hot Cheetos and Takis, she is insulted, and collects each and every bag from the prison and sets them on fire in an act of protest. Piper wants to help Linda during the riot and talks Alex into it by telling her that Linda reminds Piper of herself. She identifies with her, and so, she takes Linda under her wing. When Piper’s values are violated, she will sometimes cut off her nose to spite her face. She is very rigid in her moral judgments and often refuses to back down. When Piper makes a mistake or offends someone, she often tries to make up for it by doing something for them, as opposed to just sincerely apologizing. After offending Red, she makes a lotion for her back problems. She tries to make it up to Pennsatucky for getting her sent to Psych by getting baptized (but ultimately cannot go through with it). However, this works both ways with Piper. If someone wrongs her, she can become vindictive. She gets her revenge on Stella after she steals from Piper by planting contraband in her bunk, resulting in her getting sent to Max. When she wrongs Watson, she corrects her mistake by getting the track reopened for her. When they manage to capture Piscatella, Piper is against torture. She doesn’t believe in treating him the way he treated them, because she thinks it’s important for them to retain their humanity. She wants people to read about their story after the riot and see them as people.

Tertiary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: Because Piper has high ideals and a strong internal moral code, she is often inspired to do something in order to achieve her goals. Piper knows how to take action and strive for real change. She’s good at organizing people to accomplish tasks and knows how to delegate work. When Piper feels her Fi values are being attacked or compromised, she often utilizes her Te bluntness to put people in their place, which often leads to confrontations with the people around her. She can sometimes be thoughtless in what she says to other people, and, though it sometimes isn’t her intention to offend, she can sometimes make enemies because of her insensitivity. Not long after her arrival at Litchfield, Piper makes the mistake of accidentally insulting the food to the head chef, which causes Red to refuse to serve her. Piper enjoys contributing and uses her position on the prison council to help Watson (Fi-Te).

Inferior Introverted Sensing [Si]: When Piper finds out that she will be going to prison, she goes out and buys books about how to get through it. She relied on what she read and the experience of those who had been in her situation before. When Piper decides to propose to Alex, she does so using a can of beans because of the story that her mother told her about her father and the corn. However, she didn’t actually have corn on hand, so she used the beans instead. Although Piper rebels against her upper class lifestyle that is focused on appearances and perfection, she also finds comfort in it and falls back on it when things with Alex get too complicated for her. She returns to old relationships because they bring her comfort.

Enneagram: I see a lot of 1, 6, 7, and 9 in Piper, and a fair amount of 4. My guess is she’s 6w7 1w9 4w3. Though, the 1w9 could easily be 9w1 because they both fit her quite well. I do feel that 1 fits her slightly better than 9 though, so I’m sticking with 614 as her tritype. As for her instinctual variant… I’d guess Sx/Sp, but I’m not really certain. That’s just my best guess.

Quotes:

Piper: Maybe some grandma in Kansas will read an article about this and she’ll see us as people instead of criminals. And then maybe she’ll tell all her grandma friends and they’ll tell their kids… and then they’ll tell their grandkids. I mean, isn’t that how change really happens?

Piper: Look, I know how I am with a cause. I know that I’m like a dog with a bone.

Piper: I know she freaks you out. Worthy-Cause Piper. And she freaks me out, too.

Piper: If this is a real riot do you think this is a step forwards or backwards for equality? Alex: I don’t care. Let’s go.

Piper: I need your panties. Yoga Jones: What? Piper: Well, I will give you the panties, but I need you to wear them. I need your vag sweat. And mybe some, um, colorless discharge. I’m starting a business selling stinky panties to perverts. Yoga Jones: That’s the miraculous adventure? Piper: It’s easy. I give you flavor packets, and you give me something you’re, uh, you’re already giving away for free. Big Boo: And then you get to keep the money. Piper: And you are supporting a local business, keeping jobs right here at home. I’m like American Apparel, with less implied statutory rape. Yoga Jones: It’s disgusting. Piper: I understand. I too was once embarrassed and squeamish by my personal [pauses] eau de parfum. But then I thought: Why should I be ashamed? Isn’t that a part of the self-hatred that has been bred into me by the patriarchy? And are those same men that would shame me not the same men that would wear my panties on their faces, inhaling deeply? Ladies, now is the time to be bold. For when these men smell your panties, they are smelling your character. Let them smell daring and courage. Let them smell women who are unabashed and un-self-conscious. And let them say that Litchfield, Litchfield is a place where women love their bodies and have love to spare. Sisters, we may be incarcerated, but our panties will travel the world. And in that way, long after we are gone, our smell, our smell will linger in some gas station in Toronto, in some office cubicle in Tokyo. And in that way, we are known. And in that way, we are remembered. Do you want to be remembered? Big Boo: Yeah. Piper: Then sweat profusely, and fart with abandon, and make a reek. Make a reek, my sisters! Make a reek to last one thousand years!

Piper: I want somebody I can have adventures with.

Brook: Anyway… I think if you shared a bit more easily, you wouldn’t have beat up that girl – y’know? [Miss Rosa and DeMarco look on in disbelief] Piper: No, Soso. I don’t know. [shouts] No one has a fucking clue what you are talking about. Ever. [harshly] We are not friends. I am not your safety blanket. I am NOT your new Meadow. And, I definitely don’t need your advice. I am a lone wolf, Brook. And a vicious one. Don’t make me rip your throat out with my teeth.

Piper: I’m scared that I’m not myself in here… and I’m scared that I am.

Piper: Sisters, we may be incarcerated, but our panties will travel the world.

Piper: It’s like coming home after a long trip. That’s what love is like. It’s like coming home.

Piper Chapman (Orange Is the New Black): ENFP was originally published on MBTI Zone

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 45)

They all went to the Trader's Guild first thing in the morning, taking jerky, cookies, and several pounds worth of stewed meat to go. Because of a penalty for “misuse, misinformation, and misconduct” from when Qrow had delivered Weiss' message to Winter, he and her waited in the lobby with the Eluna plushie, while the others—including Zwei—went off to go renegotiate their salaries, be they in Shinies, or in ingredients for baking cookies.

Though not nearly as busy as when Weiss had last been there for the Job Gauntlet, she could still hear that same musical clinking of Shinies being shaken by the counting machines ringing in the air.

“Does this place ever close up shop?” Weiss asked as they sat on a bench. “Even just for a few hours or on holidays?”

“Nope,” Qrow replied, “Guild pretty much handles all financial matters in the Valley bigger than buying booze in bulk off your local grocer, or writing a check to your cousin to pull them through for the next month, after they spent all their Shinies on buying booze in bulk off their local grocer.

“Just think of having all of your human banks, corporations, and insurance companies under one government-run location, and have a few satellite branches for convenience here and there.”

“And how do you protect against corruption? All this money and valuables under one roof is a gigantic temptation for embezzlers.”

“Very, very, very strict regulations, security, and supervision, and much more serious punishments than getting roasted over the Info-Grid, before getting away with it anyway when the red tape and the corruption doesn't let anyone actually do anything,” Qrow replied. “Authoritarianism has its perks.

“Well, that, and the shiftier clerks tend to have governors installed.”

“Governors?”

Qrow pulled up a patch of feathers that covered the back of his neck. He showed off what looked like a tiny stump growing on his skin, where his spine would be. “Guarantee for good behaviour,” he said as he hid it once more. “Mine's a deluxe that also doubles as my chronicle.”

Weiss looked at him in a mix of curiosity and horror.

“We've got ethics here in Fae society, don't worry,” Qrow said. “It's just that they can get VERY flexible when someone like me fucks up, big time.”

“What happened?”

Qrow closed his eyes, trembling as flashes of memories ran through his mind:

A cottage in an isolated island village, one of those “back-to-nature” farming communities that were escaping the city states' governments.

His sister Raven, murder and madness in her eyes, fresh blood dripping from her sword.

Summer, calmly handing him a crying bundle of blankets with two tiny nubs sticking out from it.

“Take care of Ruby for me.”

He looked away, discretely wiped the tears welling in his eyes. “It's… it's a long story, and one that I'm not allowed to tell you anyway, princess...” he muttered as he turned back.

Weiss frowned. “I… I see. Sorry for bringing it up.”

Qrow shrugged. “You didn't know, Weiss.” He stared off into the distance. “None of us did.”

“… I'm going to go review some homework Penny gave me now, if you don't mind,” Weiss muttered as she pulled out her comm-crystal.

“Knock yourself out,” Qrow said, leaning back in his seat.

The others came back while Weiss was in the middle of the beginnings of the Eldan Council, formed from the larger of the independent tribes of Fae that roamed Avalon several millenia ago. Penny and Blake got raises from their original salaries because of their training and education of Weiss in addition to being her parole watchers, Zwei managed to get a sizable advance on his from being “very persuasive,” and for the first time in a thousand years, Ruby changed the Keeper's salary from ingredients for baking chocolate chip cookies.

“Now I'm getting paid in that, and seeds and supplies for the farm so you can eventually grow them yourself!” Ruby announced happily.

Weiss shot out of her seat. “SERIOUSLY?! Ruby, Penny, we are marching back in that office and getting you a better deal!” she said, taking Ruby's hand and dragging her off with her.

“But it is better!” Ruby said as she came with. “Penny said so.”

Weiss stopped, and turned around to Penny.

“I made the calculations: with the sheer amount of calories Ruby needs to consume thanks to all her activity, eventually taking over production of some if not all of the ingredients will have us ending up with far more Shinies than if we took her payment in cash, and bought food with the equivalent amount of caloric content.”

“It's why Keepers have been paid in cookies for all this time, and the amounts were only ever adjusted for inflation,” Qrow added. “Turns out, Gabija and her beau figured out the cheapest, most efficient, and completely complaint-free way to feed these gals without bankrupting themselves, or forcing the Council to spend WAY more than they really need to.”

Weiss stared. “… Are you shitting me right now?!”

Qrow shrugged. “Hey, most of those Keepers went on to live long, happy lives, and have perfectly healthy kids on almost-exclusively cookie-based diets, right?”

“It's supported by their vitae vine data,” Penny said. “Among the many unique physiological quirks of Keepers are their ability to thrive on a diet composed almost entirely of milk, sugar, and chocolate. They're quite the treasure trove of bizarre, baffling phenomena that stump makers to this day.”

Weiss slowly turned to Blake.

She shrugged. <Valley. Don't think too hard: head-hurt.>

Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, and nodded slowly. “Let's go pawn my sister's Eluna plushie...” she muttered.

They had to wait a while at the Loans and Securities section for Nivian-speaking clerks to assist them, as Weiss was considered the borrower and the others were co-signers. Eventually, their number was called, and all of them walked up to the counter.

“Oh hey!” Nora said as she and Ren sat behind the security glass. “What a coincidence! I was wondering what kind of borrower would need someone who knew how to speak Nivian, and then I thought, 'Huh, what if it's Weiss?' and it turns out I was right!

“Isn't that neat?”

Weiss nodded slowly. “Uh… I suppose? Was the Guild short on employees today?”

Ren shook his head. “We're part-time workers here and in lots of other places,” he explained. “Me and Nora used to work all sorts of odd jobs back then, and we never truly lost the habit. So, how may we help you?”

Weiss put the Eluna on the counter. “I'd like to pawn my sister's Eluna plushie.”

Ren's eyes widened, Nora whistled. “Oh, Eluna...” she whispered, “is that an actual, limited edition Eluna plushie? I thought you could only see ones this nice in museums and collections that have their own security staff and fancy systems just for them!”

“No offense, but we'll have to verify that it's authentic first; we're still getting counterfeit Elunas every once in a while...” Ren said as he strapped on some gloves, and pulled out one of the Guild's own magical containers. “Unlock it, please?”

One by one, they pressed their hands, talon, or paw on the bubble, until it disappeared in a flash of magic.

Ren swiftly, carefully grabbed it out of the air and placed it in the Guild's container, a new bubble surrounding it. “Thank you, we'll be right back,” he said as he took it deeper inside.

Nora grabbed her hammer from under the counter and followed him.

Some time later, they returned with an entire cadre of watchers, complete with a guard wolf.

Ren set the Eluna back on the counter. “Good news: it's definitely real, and can be used as collateral for a loan.”

Weiss nodded. “How much is it worth?”

“741,000,000 Shinies,” Ren replied calmly.

Both of Zwei's jaws dropped.

“Holy fucking shit...” Ruby muttered.

Penny blinked. “I am sorry, I had not reserved enough processing power beforehand to comprehend such a large sum.”

<That… that is a LOT of money!> Blake said.

“All this time…” Qrow whispered, “all this time… we were sitting on a fucking Etherite mine…!”

Weiss finally recovered. “Is that in the condition it's in right now?”

“Yes,” Ren replied.

“It's been 12 years since production ended!” Nora added. “That's enough time for all the kids who saw their classmates showing off their Elunas to start earning serious money and want to buy their own, so they can show them up on Storybook and go, 'Look who's got an Ellie NOW, bitch?!'”

“A restoration job and the removal of the tears, snot, and despair smell is nothing compared to what people will pay for an Eluna in good enough condition,” Ren finished.

“How much is that in Urochs…?” Weiss mumbled.

Ren punched in the numbers on his terminal. “49,400,000 Urochs,” he calmly read off the screen.

“And how rich does that make me here in Fae society?” Weiss asked.

“Well,” Nora said, “we could bother you with all sorts of boring statistics about average wages, the cost of living a decent life here, and how much the richest Fae tend to have, or I could just say this:

“Money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, money, motherfucker!”

“Please don't ask for all of that in cash,” Ren said calmly. “The Bastion does not have enough physical Shinies to pay you, and the logistics of producing that many new gems, shipping it from the other Council settlements, and transporting it to Keeper's Hollow will be EXTREMELY difficult, time-consuming, and complicated.”

Weiss held up a finger. “We'll be right back.”

“Huddle up everyone!” Ruby cried. “Emergency meeting!”

They all moved to one area, with Zwei looming over them and protecting them from eavesdroppers.

“Weiss, you're not TOO attached to that plushie, are you?” Qrow asked.

“Uncle Qrow!” Ruby snapped.

“He does have a point in that selling the Eluna plushie outright will allow us to live very comfortably,” Penny added. “With proper investment, reasonably responsible spending, and no major disasters of any sort, your descendants for the next 1,000 years will most assuredly be living extremely comfortable lives.”

“See?” Qrow said. “Penny's with me!”

“I'm not, actually,” Penny replied, “I'm merely explaining that from a purely financial standpoint, selling the Eluna plushie outright is the better decision. From a more holistic perspective, the loss of such a valued sentimental item, and the definite emotional and psychological repercussions to Weiss makes it a terrible decision.”

“We're getting that Eluna back, Uncle Qrow,” Ruby growled.

They paused for Penny to summarize and translate it for Blake.

<I agree,> she said, <we're not defaulting on that loan.>

Qrow whined. “We could use the money, can't we?”

“Yes, there is no question about that,” Penny replied, “but taking out just a small portion of the total value will allow us more than enough capital to invest into Weiss, her farm, and general improvements to Keeper's Hollow, and give us time to pay off the loan within two or three years and reclaim the plushie.

“We can even safely squeeze in a sizable amount for luxury spending, such as tickets to Eve of the Ether for four of us!”

“But no kicking back with kickass beer and market-bought meat for the rest of our lives…?” Qrow asked.

Penny shook her head. “No, all my calculations assume we continue to earn our current wages or more, and my projections on the return of investment for Weiss' farming and training, erring on the side of caution.”

<Let's vote!> Ruby said. <Sell Eluna, raise your hand!>

Qrow raised his talon.

<Get Eluna back eventually, raise your hand!>

Everyone else raised their hands or their paws.

Qrow sighed. “Alright… alright… you girls win. But can we buy a still with it first, so Weiss here can start making booze…?”

“Yes, we can, so long as you promise to keep up your end of our payments!” Weiss replied.

“I will, I will...” Qrow replied.

Penny redid their plans, and after signing contracts and earmarking money for investments for the long-run, they had four tickets to the Eve of the Ether festival in Candela, four new fake IDs in the works, and some extra money for making costumes and converting into Urochs for the night of the event.

<Are you sure you don't want to come with us to Candela, Uncle Qrow?> Ruby asked as Blake and Weiss had their pictures taken.

Qrow sighed and shook his head. <Nah, you just take Penny, and enjoy yourselves; I'm pretty sure if I meet up with you-know-who again, it'll be anything but a heartwarming reunion.>

Ruby frowned. <She stopped hating you a long time ago—what does that say about him?>

<It's not him I'm worried about, Rubes...> Qrow muttered. He smiled. <Besides, I'll probably just end up getting totally wasted with all the 'witches' brews' going around, and ruin things for everybody.>

Ruby didn't smile back.

<Next!> the photographer called out.

<Go on, they're waiting,> Qrow waved her off.

Ruby sighed, and did.

Penny was ecstatic to hear that she was getting the fourth ticket instead, and had one of the biggest, brightest smiles Qrow had ever seen when she had her picture taken. After they got their fake documentation and Info-Grid histories, memorized all the small details and answers that'd throw off suspicious Peacekeepers, they left the Guild, the girls taking about their costume plans, and Weiss advising them on which places to hit up, and in what order to get the most out of their night.

He knew he should have been happy for them, but he just couldn't shake this feeling in his gut that something very bad was going to happen soon—and as his chronicle would attest, it was never wrong...

Note: 741,000,000 Shinies = 14,820,000 US Dollars