#you were upset with paul announcing it because it was your job?

[javelinbk]

"The thing that held us together was that we could work together. You'd be surprised how much that matters. When things fell apart it was because I fell apart. I wasn't willing to do the extras I always did, and I resented it when Paul tried or George tried. I'm not altogether sure why I felt that way. Tired I guess. I had been putting out and putting out and things were getting higher and higher. At first I was afraid that we were never going to get there. Then I began to get afraid that it was never going to stop. Then it seemed everybody was drifting off in different directions, and that seemed to make more sense than trying to go on. All that was needed was for someone to pronounce the patient dead, but none of us really wanted to do that. Then I decided that it was my job, unpleasant as it was. I talked to Paul about it and he asked me not to announce the breakup. Asked! Hell, he begged me! I was touched because I thought that it was because he had the faith that somehow, somewhere, everything would work out and we'd do it all over again. Well, I was touched all right. Touched in the head. Paul went behind my back and made the announcement as part of a publicity campaign for a record. And for that, my dear Charles, I am never, no not ever, going to forgive him. It was like he took the Beatles away from me as part of a promotional trick."

"You know, it might not have been his idea. He could have been told to do it by Lee or practically anyone."

"I warn you, Charles, don't try to defend him. I don't care who-what-when-where-why-or-how he came to do it. He did it and he knew what he was doing. He knew that he should have come to me and he didn't. We all have limits. Paul passed mine and I just wrote him off. After that I'd see him once in a while, but whatever had held us together had died."

John Lennon talking about the break-up of The Beatles, as told by John Green in Dakota Days (1983)

[itsallyscorner]

💌 Requested by @impossibleapricotlampbat

pairing: Harry Styles x reader, One Direction x reader (platonic)

Request: Hi love ❤️. i love your posts and i was wondering since you are taking raquests can you do a harry styles or anyone from one diraction where 1D is having a concert and the reader who is someone from the group’s gf being in front of the stage and them some random person flirting with her and trying to put their arm around the reader’s waist and they see it and say into their microphone put your hand down boy she’s mine and glaring at the person. sorry if its to much.

a/n: Thank you for the request my love! I really hope you enjoy it🥰 Every hour is missing them hours if it’s referring to One Direction.

Hands Off

From backstage you could hear the screams and cheers of the fans. The boys were currently in their dressing rooms getting last minute things fixed.

“How do I look, love?” Harry, your boyfriend, asked as he stood in front of you modeling his outfit.

He was dressed in a silky button down that had a fair amount of buttons undone and black jeans with his Chelsea boots. Necklaces hung from his neck and rested against his chest where his swallow tattoo peaked from the collar of his shirt.

You tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear and tilt your head at him.

“Absolutely gorgeous, darling.” You sayin a fake posh accent while flicking your hair to the side. The action causes Harry to chuckle and shake his head.

“I love you, but the accent is rubbish.” He brought you towards him by wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You giggled and wrap your arms around his torso. The boys are currently on their On The Road Again tour. Since you were in Uni, you couldn’t tour with the boys, much to Harry’s dismay. Tonight was one of those nights where you would fly out to where they were and would stay with them a few days.

“Ye gonna be okay with Mum and Gemma?” He quietly asked as he rested his chin on your head.

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. We all flew out here together, Har.” You reassure him pecking his chin.

“I’m jus making sure.” He hummed as he continued to hold you until Paul told them it was showtime.

The boys were given their ear pieces before they were called to the stage. You stood by the side with Lou, Gemma, and Anne as the boys did their little chant. When they clapped they moved towards the stairs that led to the stage.

“Goodluck guys! Break a leg!” You yell after them. A chorus of “thank yous” came from the boys except Niall who yelled, “Wait don’t say that I have weak knees!”

“Goodluck Niall!” You laugh as he sends a thumbs up towards your way. Harry rushes down the stairs calling you. You meet him halfway, “What? The show—.”

You’re cut off by Harry smashing his lips onto yours. You’re caught off guard but come back to your senses to kiss him back. He pulls away with a smack as he runs his thumb past your bottom lip.

“I needed my goodluck kiss.” He cheekily smiled before catching up with the boys at the top of the platform.

—•

The boys were now halfway into the concert. The fans were loud, singing along to the songs, and laughing at the boys’ antics on stage. You were watching by the side with Lou, Lux, Gemma, and Anne. A few fans noticed you guys causing you all to wave. Lux, who was in your arms waved at them as well. The area you guys were at had a good view of the stage and security nearby.

“It’s uncle Louis!” Lux pointed as she tapped your shoulder. Louis made a silly face at her before running off in another direction. You laughed as your eyes moved around the venue. A few feet away from you was a guard, he must’ve worked for the arena because you didn’t recognize him. For the whole first half of the concert you could feel his eyes on you instead of doing his job. You tried to avoid his stare, moving to the side, sticking next to Gemma and Lou, even shamelessly hid behind Lux while you carried her. But his eyes would always catch you.

“I think Lux and I are going to move backstage to watch, it’s too loud here and I don’t want her to go deaf.” Lou said as held her hands up for Lux. You passed her baby to her and remained beside Gemma.

“I think I’m gonna tag along with them, you girls gonna be alright?” Anne questioned as she moved to follow Lou.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine!” Gemma answered for the both of you.

The boys moved to sit on the center of the walkway, preparing to sing Little Things. Harry searched the crowd for you and his sister. When he spotted you both he waved, putting on a little show that made the crowd giggle.

“What a clown.” Gemma snorted as she nudged your shoulder. You chuckled at her comment.

“Unfortunately he’s our clown.”

—•

While the boys sang Little Things you felt a presence beside you. You thought it was Anne joining you and Gemma again but it turned out to be the security guard who kept staring at you. You visibly move closer to Gemma trying to listen to the boys sing.

“What do you say we sneak backstage and fool around a bit?” He whispered into your ear invading your personal space.

“I’m not interested.” You quickly shoot him down. The guy tisked and leaned against the barricade.

“C’mon baby, I know you’re bored watching a bunch of lil boys playing around on stage.” He tried to coax you as he ran a finger along your arm.

“I already told you I’m not interested. I have a boyfriend.” You snapped at him before yanking your arm away from him.

From the stage Zayn and Liam noticed the altercation. Still singing, Liam roughly nudged Harry while Zayn moved towards the part of the stage nearest to you. Harry looked to where Liam was pointing at. An irritated look was on your face as the guy wrapped his disgusting arm around you. Harry saw you push on the guy’s chest but he still wouldn’t budge. Gemma now noticed what was happening and was trying to tell the guy to fuck off.

“OI! GET YER HANDS OFF MY GIRLFRIEND!” Harry yelled as he ran to where Zayn was. The guard who was harassing you jumped as he looked towards the stage. Above him was Zayn and Harry challenging looks on both their faces.

“Has your mother not taught you any manners? Did she ever tell you not to touch a woman without permission?” Harry’s voice boomed in the mic as he moved to jump off the stage. Harry gripped the guard’s arm and ripped it off your body. Security had now moved to where you were and took the guard who was harassing you.

Harry glared at him as they took him away. He turned back to you, his eyes softening at the sight of you.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” Harry questioned you as he inspected your body as best as he can in the dim arena. The boys were now concerned as they stood near the side of the stage where you all were gathered. The fans were now curious to what was happening.

“I’m fine, Harry, he didn’t do anything. I told him I wasn’t interested and—.” You tried to explain but Harry cut you off.

“No, you don’t need to explain yerself. You told him to fuck off and he wouldn’t, he came onto you.” Harry reassured you as he smoothed his hands across your arms in comfort. You look around the see everyone looking at you guys.

“Get back on stage. I’ll head backstage where Lou and your mom are.” You tell him before pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” He asked again staring into your eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine. Now go back on stage before the fans get upset.” You tell him before pushing him towards the stage.

“They could wait, but if you say so.” He mumbled.

“I love you.” He kissed your temple before motioning Gemma to go with you. She nodded and looped her arm with yours.

“Love you too, Haz.” You tell him before walking backstage.

“Can you escort them backstage, please?” Harry asks a security guard. The guard nods and follows you and Gemma.

The boys help Harry back up the stage before asking if everything was alright. Harry quickly explained what happened before resuming the concert.

“Sorry about that everyone! Just a reminder to my girls here tonight. Your body is yours and no one should feel the need to touch your body without your permission! You get a say in who touches you and who doesn’t, remember that!” Harry announced to the audience. The crowd cheered in praise and agreement.

The boys nodded along before getting back to their spots.

“Someone’s getting fired tonight!” Louis sang as he danced in his seat making the crowd laugh.

[marjansmarwani]

utterly worthy of love

1.3k || ao3

TK needs to share his news with the team, but he's worried they'll hate him. Carlos assures him that he's wrong, but that'll he be with him every step of the way no matter what. ----- a 2x07 missing moment

Me, actually publishing a coda in less than 24 hours? I’m more surprised than you are. Beta’d by @officereyes 

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

“But what if they hate me.” 

“TK, they are not going to hate you.” 

“How do you know? I’m abandoning them, they might hate me.”

“TK,” Carlos said bracingly, putting down the knife he was using and turning to face his boyfriend, “you’re not abandoning them, and they’re not going to hate you.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I’m sure,” he began, stepping closer to TK so he could wind his arms around his waist, “because they are your team and they love you. They only want what’s best for you and if it’s being a paramedic, they’ll support you.” 

TK was quiet for several moments, absentmindedly running a hand down Carlos arm as he thought. “You really think so?” he asked eventually and Carlos’s heart ached at the thought that TK was so full of doubt. People loved him and sometimes it was hard for him to see that. 

“I really do,” he told him firmly. 

TK’s posture relaxed ever so slightly and he smiled at Carlos, “what would I do without you?” 

Carlos leaned forward, pressing a kiss into the crook of TK’s neck, “you won’t have to find out,” he assured him, “because I am with you, every step of the way.”  

-------

About an hour later the sounds of a houseful drifted through to Carlos’s kitchen. He couldn’t deny that he loved this, that finding this little family within the 126 crew who now filled his home on a regular basis brought back fond memories of a childhood home always teeming with family and neighbors and love. He had always wanted that for himself and his own future home, but he hadn’t had it until he met TK. In so many ways TK was the key piece to his puzzle; once he had fit into place, all the rest had fallen in easily.

They were gathered in the living room, chatting animatedly as TK and Carlos brought out food and drinks. It was familiar and comfortable, but TK was visibly anxious and Carlos knew that the others had noticed. It was Marjan that finally brought it up, once TK and Carlos had settled onto the couch together. 

“Okay dude, spill,” Marjan demanded, “there’s clearly something on your mind.” 

TK looked like a deer in the headlights, throwing an anxious glance at Carlos, who gave him an encouraging nod and a smile. The others were looking at them expectantly now as TK tried to find the words, starting and stopping several times. 

“If y’all got engaged it’s not as big of a surprise as you may think it is,” Judd informed them mildly and Carlos choked on his beer. 

“What?” he spluttered at the same moment TK exclaimed, “no, we're not engaged!” 

They looked at each other and TK rushed on, “I don’t mean to say that would be a bad thing…” 

“But not yet,” Carlos finished for him, flashing him a reassuring smile and feeling relief wash over him when he got one in return. 

“Not yet,” TK agreed. 

The others were watching the exchange with amused expressions but Marjan was not about to let it go. 

“Alright, no engagement,” she conceded.

“Yet,” Paul muttered as he took another drink of his beer but she continued, unfazed. 

“But there is definitely something.” 

TK looked back at Carlos, eyes clouded with anxiety. Carlos gave him a reassuring smile, reaching around to squeeze his arm before TK turned his gaze back to his crew. 

“You know how Captain Vega still has an opening on her team, right?” 

“You mean the paramedic of the day? Yeah, we’ve noticed,” Marjan quipped. “What about it?” 

“I applied,” TK announced quickly, “and she selected me from the other candidates. I’m going to be the new paramedic for the 126.” 

The chatter of earlier had been replaced by stunned silence and Carlos can practically hear the gears in TK’s head turning, taking the silence and turning it into disapproval or disappointment in his mind. He reached around and grabbed the hand that was anxiously fingering the material of his jeans, squeezing it tightly. 

“I just wish you had come to this decision before I spent all those hours watching you drive over orange cones, kid. Although I did manage to gather up some good blackmail material, which I intend to savor,” Judd declared with a grin and Carlos could feel TK relax ever so slightly beside him. 

“That’s actually dope dude!” Mateo exclaimed. “You’re going to be driving the ambulance now!”

“Paramedic Strand does have a nice ring to it,” Marjan agreed with a smile. 

Carlos looked to Paul, who was the only one to have not said anything yet to see that Paul was studying TK in turn. 

“You didn’t think we were going to be upset about this, did you?” he asked him, causing the others to frown and look at TK as well. 

“Maybe?” TK admitted sheepishly. “I love working with you guys and I love our team, I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was abandoning you, I guess.” 

“Do you want this?” 

“Yeah,” TK admitted softly, “I do.” 

“Then who are we to say anything?” Paul said with a shrug. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, man. And proud of you, for taking the risk. It’s not an easy thing to make that change.” 

“And being a paramedic is not an easy job,” Judd added, “but you’re going to kill it, brother.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

The doubt in TK’s voice struck Carlos like a physical blow, but Judd carried on undaunted. 

“Because I know Tommy and she would never hire anyone she didn’t think could hack it,” he said firmly. “And,” he added, voice softening, “I know you kid, and I know that you will give it everything you have.” 

“Plus, we all saw you in that minefield,” Paul reminded him, “someone who wasn’t going to be good at this job wouldn’t have been able to do what you did. You’re going to be great at this.” 

TK grinned at them all, smile bright and infectious. Carlos leaned forward, wrapping his arms around him from behind and placing a soft kiss to the inside of his neck. 

“Told you,” he whispered into his ear as he pulled back, chuckling at the eye roll he got in return. 

“If you two are done,” Paul said pointedly, “this deserves a toast.” 

He raised his beer bottle in the air and the others followed suit with their various beverages, “to Paramedic Stand, who may be wearing a different uniform but will always be a part of this family.” 

The others sounded their agreement and TK beamed. As the toast ended and their focus shifted to other conversations. Carlos surveyed them all with a fond smile. He really did love this little family they had built, but none more than the man currently leaning against him. He was still beaming, his whole countenance lighter now that the anxiety of disappointing his team had been resolved. Carlos reached forwards to wrap an arm around him, pulling him closer to his own body, his chest flush against TK’s back. He leaned forward, placing his chin on TK’s shoulder as he watched the others interact. 

“I can’t believe you thought they were going to hate you,” he said softly, “like they could ever. You’re just too damn lovable.” 

“Oh?” TK asked, turning his head so he could see Carlos and give him a cheeky grin. 

“Yeah,” Carlos confirmed, “and nothing is ever going to change that.” 

The smile TK gave him this time was softer, more intimate. He leaned down to press a kiss on Carlos’s forehead before finding the hand that was wrapped around his body and intertwining it with his own. They settled in together, so intertwined in each other it was hard to say where one began and the other ended, to watch the others. Never before had Carlos felt such contentment with anyone, and he was grateful for it every day. He loved this man with all his heart and though he knew now wasn’t the time for a formal lifelong commitment, he had a feeling it would only be a matter of time. 

[weirdanecdotes]

How I Met Mick Jagger

This is also how I became an Unintentional Groupie. If I hadn’t befriended a couple of DJ’s, I never would have had access to music stars. This story takes place in the early 60s. It may shock you to learn music was segregated by color. And calling people Black didn’t saturate society until a decade later. To avoid offending anyone, I have substituted polite words where needed. Nor were there any issues about cultural appropriation at the time. I must have been woke because I got upset when White artists ripped off Black artists. But my issue with it was a lack of authenticity and the literal theft. Anyway, this story actually begins...

After we moved from Brookhaven to Buckhead and there were no buses to take me to church, Papa used to drive me to Peachtree Road Methodist on Sunday mornings to attend classes and morning services. By the time I was fifteen, he decided to sleep in and shifted me to attending evening services and a youth club afterwards.

Despite the fact the youth club had a basketball court where we could dance in our socks, most of the youths skipped out soon after they were dropped off. Some of them had older friends with cars who picked them up and brought them back in time to innocently look like they’d never been away.

Others left in gaggles to wander the streets and I tagged along without being invited. There was a strip of shops next to the church and behind that on Mathieson Drive there was a rather fantastical old house built out of rough granite blocks that had a turret!

I had no idea why we going but climbed the steep driveway and the even steeper steps to the front door, which was shockingly unlocked. They didn’t even knock before pushing it open.

Inside, rock n’ roll music boomed and a sign on the wall announced we had entered WQXI Radio. Up yet another flight of steep steps, we arrived at a hallway with plate glass windows on one side. Behind a locked door on the windowed room sat a DJ doing his job. When he saw us, he grinned and waved. Then during the next musical interlude he asked what we wanted to hear.

That’s how I met my first disk jockey—Patrick Aloysius Hughes. I put the emphasis on his middle name like he always did on the radio. He practically sung it into five syllables—Al-lo-wish-she-us!

After that, I went by myself to visit him on Sunday evenings. I told him my Bill Lowery Story and he laughed like a maniac. Pat was as hyperactive as I was and I was too ignorant of the world to even wonder if his buzz was natural or snorted. I wanted to know everything about his job and he was glad to explain how everything worked. Of course, we talked about music. I also learned about The Industry that controlled everything teenagers were allowed to hear, about Payola and how new releases came with gift boxes that included tickets to VIP seating at sporting events.

It was probably a few months before he unlocked the door and let me into the control room to flip levers and twiddle dials. That dear man never made any kind of move on me. He simply enjoyed company. One Sunday evening, Pat rather ominously told me Paul Drew—the DJ who manned the midnight till dawn shift—was coming just to meet me. I naturally asked, "Why?"

"You're like a prodigy or something," Pat shrugged, "You know music better than I do."

Paul arrived and beside Pat they looked like a comic duo. Pat was a tall string-bean good ol' boy and Paul was a short, round, balding guy with a Yankee accent. Pat flat-out loved rock n' rock. Paul was cerebral and filled his airtime with “easy listening” Oldies like Frank Sinatra, some classical music and a sprinkling of cool jazz.

“I hear you know music like no one else your age,” Paul eyed me with respect.

“She’s uncanny,” Pat enthused, “If she says it’s gonna be a hit, it is!”

Rolling my eyes, I allowed, “I do recognize all the current trends built into a track but mainly—if I don’t like it—I reckon it will be a hit just to annoy me every time I hear it on the radio.”

They guffawed then Paul sat down and seriously asked, “What do you like?” He even pulled a notepad out of his back pocket & the pen from his shirt to take notes.

Feeling utterly intimidated, I answered slowly, alert for any negative reactions, “Anything by Modern Jazz Quartet, Miles Davis, his especially Sketches of Spain, Andre Previn’s soundtrack for The Subterraneans, Dave Brubeck. I’m currently hooked on Pachebel’s Canon in D, can’t stop listening to it over and over. But, here I must confess,” I breathed out in a whisper, “for fun, I listen to WAOK.”

“Of course, you do,” Paul bobbed his head and chuckled, “Chuck Berry invented rock n’ roll.”

Taking that as I dig, I insisted, “He actually did. And Little Richard…”

He held up his hand to forestall my ire, “I know, I know. What other white music do you like?”

“Recently, Jim Salle [another story] insisted I listen to a folkie debut album by Bob Dylan. He knows my tastes. I bought it. House of the Rising Sun might fit your format. I believe Dylan stole it from a couple of colored artists. I predict some rock n’ roll band is gonna steal it from him.”

It took over two years before my prediction came true but Paul Drew remembered and called to tell me he’d just gotten The Animals’ version and was promoting it. Looking back, I think was in a sense their ideal listener and articulate enough to explain my opinions. But also, I was pretty.

Shortly after I got my driver’s license, Paul called early one Sunday in an excited state. “The Rolling Stones are passing thru the airport today! Like, in a couple of hours they’ll have an hour layover. If you can get out there, I can get you into the Delta VIP Lounge.”

I replied indignantly, “I don’t like the Rolling Stones.”

“Heh,” Paul snickered, “Of course not, that’s why they’re massive stars. Their managers aren’t going to let me near them. But, sweetheart, you can get to them. They’ll probably come to you!”

I guessed, “Then I introduce them to you?”

“Exactly.”

I called my BF Ginny who was a Rolling Stone fan and a beauty. I looked exactly like this, the same dress, minus the bandanna:

The Delta VIP Lounge had two levels. Immediately inside the entrance was a bar/café area but, on a higher guarded level, actual VIPs came to rest between flights. Ginny and I easily found Paul at the bar and he ordered us Coca-Cola’s with cherry syrup. The bartender added little umbrellas. We giggled like the schoolgirls we were.

Before Paul could detail his plan to gain access, The Stones arrived, loudly shouting profanities and obscenities. Like she was iron filings and they were magnets, Ginny slipped like a shadow past security, went directly to Brian Jones, and sat in his lap! He greeted her, “Well hello, baby girl!”

The guard may have taken that to mean we were expected because he stepped aside to let me follow her. I stood there uncertainly. From over three feet away, I could smell them. They were sweaty, filthy, uncouth, drunken fools. I glanced back at Paul, gave him a helpless shrug, and primly took a seat on a nearby Mid-Century Modern sofa, all imitation leather with chrome legs and trim.

I was stunned when Mick Jagger approached, took a seat at the other end, casually threw his arm over its back to turn towards me, and politely asked, “What brings you here this fine morning?”

I was stunned because unlike the other band members he was immaculately clean and well dressed in a blue-stripped seersucker jacket, a spotlessly white shirt, khaki slacks, and white buck shoes with red rubber soles. He looked like a prep school poet who did not belong with his rowdy bandmates.

I was stunned because color photography had not accurately rendered the paleness of his strawberry blonde hair, ice blue eyes, flawless cream complexion, ruddy schoolboy cheeks, or his mouth! Good gawd! I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in person and that took my breath away. I literally could not answer him.

He tried again, “Where are you coming from? Where are you going?”

“I’m just here because you are,” I whispered, “My friend is a DJ who would like to talk to you.”

He snapped, “That’s not going to happen,” breathed out his boredom in a shuddering sigh then asked, “Are you a fan?”

“No,” I gestured toward Ginny who had moved onto Keith Richards’ lap, “but my friend is.”

“Oh gawd,” he drawled at the scene, flipping delicate fingers to dismiss it from his thoughts, and turned his attention back on me. “Do you think we might have enough in common to have a decent conversation to pass the time?”

“We could talk about music." I turned a bit petulant, "I don’t like you because Little Richard did you first.”

“I don’t deny that,” he wasn’t offended, “He taught me all about performing on stage. I bet you don’t like the Beach Boys either and certainly not Pat Boone.”

I managed to smile and agreed, “Definitely not. I won’t hold your Little Richard impersonation against you personally. I’m sure he appreciates being introduced to music fans who would never know about him otherwise. Seeing you dressed as you are today it’s hard for me to imagine how you became a rock n’ roll star. Didn’t you study at the London School of Economics?”

He archly declared, “Economics is so boring.”

“I don’t think so,” I countered, “I got an A-plus in Economics.”

He stunned me yet again by gracefully sliding across the sofa to sit closer to me and eagerly shared, “Then you understand I was on track to work in a bank or, if I was lucky, maybe I’d be a stock trader. Now Keith and I go way back. We started a garage band and did covers of soul artists. We did gigs for audiences who had no idea they were listening to colored music. So while I was preparing to handle other people’s money just to earn a small share of it, I could already sing like Little Richard and saw, shall we say, a market opening.”

He paused and I inserted, “So it’s all about the money.”

Looking directly into my eyes, he insisted, “And my true love of R&B. Please don’t think of me as a rip-off artist. I’m paying homage to artists who are better than I’ll ever be and get them into bigger and better venues. We’re all getting rich together.”

I boldly asked, “May I quote that when I tell my DJ friend about our conversation?”

“Please,” he drew back in mock chagrin, “you can tell whoever you like. I’m not sharing any secrets. But let me enjoy having a real conversation with a pretty girl who doesn’t want to rip my clothes off. I feel like we’re connecting…intellectually. ”

“We are indeed,” I bobbed my head in agreement. "What I like about Economics is it creates the delusion that we control money instead of money controlling us."

I remember his eyes flying wide in surprise and how his teeth sparkled when he grinned but the rest of our conversation is a blur. It's not that I've forgotten our joking banter. My brain simply didn't imprint any memory cells while I was in the midst of a significant life-altering experience.

I relied on the etiquette lessons I'd been forced to take to maintain my decorum. In case you don't know what I mean, I kept my legs demurely crossed at the ankles, knees together, hands relaxed in my lap, back straight, chin up, and spoke softly. I was trained to be a Southern Lady.

I'm amazed I didn't quiver just a bit because I was experiencing sexual attraction for the very first time. It wasn't lust. I was simply overwhelmed by wanting a man to kiss me. I'd gotten kissed at Vacation Bible School when I was 13 and felt nothing. It was not an experience I sought to repeat until I met a man who glowed like an angel. People who have artistic souls and enough talent to become famous are not ordinary. They possess Charisma—a magical ability to enthrall others.

I have the vague impression I was witty and his laughing grin was the living embodiment of joy. I'm serious. That man's ridiculous mouth is a caricature like a Comedy mask made for Greek Theater masks.

The spell was broken when a man called his name and he turned away to hear they were cleared to board their next flight. He stood up and so did I. He looked me up and down in appraisal and I got nervous, "Um, ah, I'm so glad I got to meet you. I now admire you as an artist and a person.”

AND HE BLUSHED!

I nearly fainted but got distracted by Ginny getting French-kissed goodbye by Brian Jones then noticed how Mick stood, awkwardly fidgeting like he couldn’t decide how to say goodbye. Subtle body shifts suggested he might try to hug me. If he did, I might break down in tears.

Instead, I offered my hand and he held it gently while saying, “You’ve made my day. I’d ask for your number but I have no idea when I’ll ever be in Atlanta again. This has been an extraordinary encounter. Thank you so much.”

“The pleasure has been all mine,” I gushed then giggled girlishly.

“No,” he drawled, “we shared the pleasure.” He started away but turned back to add, “You know my mates aren’t going to remember your girlfriend but I’ll probably never forget you.”

He was wrong about that. Less than two years later, Ginny was in the UK living with Brian Jones! I never expected to hear from him and, therefore, wasn't disappointed.

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hey there, how's it going? I'd love to read a second part to a reading, it's my favorite thing you've written so far!

It's going good! A reading is probably my favorite thing that I've ever written, so I'm definitely down with doing a second part! Here you go!

A Reading: Part 2

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warning: Description of death

Word count: 2.7k~

You stood at your stove, another pot of tea already brewing. Your caravan was small. It was meant for one person, maybe two. Not you, your cat, and four vampires. So, it was a little cramped.

Somehow, however, having all four of them inside made you slightly less worried than just one. David, apparently, wanted you to finish his reading. Somehow, you knew that he and the boys wouldn't leave you alone until you did, so you were brewing yet another pot of tea. The boys had brought in all the things from outside for you, the gentlemanly act contrasting with their previous behavior. You had expected them to act like before, to purposely terrorize you and scare you. Instead, you saw that they were almost just four curious teenage boys, poking around and looking at all the things you had cluttered about.

David was sitting on your bed, having kicked off his shoes and made himself right at home. He was smoking a cigarette and blowing it out your window as he flipped through the pages of one of your books. You had been trying to avoid his eyes, so you didn't necessarily catch which one. You didn't want to think about him sitting on your bed, especially now that you knew they could hear you.

Dwayne was doing something similar, but he stood instead. His tall figure nearly grazed the roof of your caravan, and he could see your top shelf of books easily. He was pulling them out, glancing at the covers, and maybe flipping through them. He didn't stay on one book for long. Though, you noticed how carefully he would put your books back in place before he chose a new one.

Your cat had run into the bathroom, and Marko crouched at the door. He was staring at the little beast, and he held his hand out for him to sniff. He'd done it a few times now, but Salisbury would always end up hissing at him. His eyebrows furrowed, and he let his hand drop. You almost wanted to smile at his determination. A regular cat may have let Marko pet it by now, but a witch's familiar? Salisbury would hiss at him until he was no longer a threat, or at least you didn't consider him so. But any humor slipped away when you felt hands on your shoulders.

You tensed, and you heard a small chuckle from behind you as Paul scooted past. He moved to lean against the counter besides you, reaching out to play with the homemade concoction of jar spells you had. He was the most nosy. You were stiff as you watched him try to open one of the jars, attempting to break the wax seal, and you quickly slapped your hand over his. You froze, realizing what you were doing, and you looked up to catch eyes with the blonde vampire. His crystal blues stared at you, and an amused smile quickly graced his lips. His hand was cold under yours, just like David's had been.

"What?" Paul asked, a lazy smile on his face. You tried not to appear as nervous as you were. You knew it was no use, as they could probably hear your heart hammering in your chest. You looked around, and you saw that you had momentarily caught the attention of the other boys as well. You gulped, and glanced away from his face as you ripped your hand away. You looked down at the tea as you said,

"It's a jar spell. It's bad luck to open it." You explained, and he hummed. It wasn't just bad luck. If he opened it, whatever it was made for wouldn't happen. The one he was holding was sealed with pink wax. Inside was some rose quartz, bay leaves, cinnamon. Among other things. It was a jar made with the intention of finding yourself a companion. You almost wanted to curse yourself for even making it, and now you wanted to curse yourself for thinking about what it did. He smirked at you, and let out a small laugh. He dropped it back into place, and his attention turned fully onto you instead. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and there was a smile on his face as he said,

"Thanks, sugar." He pushed himself away from the counter, and you flicked your eyes up to watch him. "Wouldn't want to mess up my chances." He flirted, whispering the last part in your ear as he moved past you once more. He placed his hands on your shoulder just like he had the first time, seeming to want any excuse to touch you. He laughed, and then he was standing right besides Dwayne and whispering something in his ear. You watched the brunette smirk, and then his eyes flick to you. It was almost as if they were trying to make it obvious that they were talking about you.

You were quick to turn your eyes away, and you nearly jumped when you realized Marko was right besides you. He seemed upset, his brows furrowing almost cutely, and he was quick to say,

"Why doesn't he like me?" And you stared at him for a moment before you realized he was talking about your cat. You looked past him, into the bathroom where he was sitting. His tail was flicking back and forth wildly as he stared at the vampire. You sighed, and looked back at the angel-faced creature of the night.

"He's a familiar. It's his job to protect me, warn me," You said, waving your hand as if this was common knowledge. "He sees you as a threat." You finished. He tilted his head, staring at you harder than you liked. You watched as his eyes flicked towards the other boys, and then a smile bloomed over his face. You heard chuckling behind you, and you turned on instinct. Paul was holding some of your sage, and Dwayne was holding one of your books. One of them had made a joke, you could tell from the smiles on their faces. You nearly jumped when you felt Markos hand brush over your neck, and you snapped your head to see that he had leaned in. His face was barely an inch away from yours, and his eyes were practically swirling. His hand didn't pull away, and instead it cupped your jaw. He grinned, hearing the way the close proximity made your heartbeat speed up. His doe brown eyes looked over your face as he ducked down, his nose almost touching yours.

"What? He thinks I'm gonna eat you?" He teased, and you didn't respond. Salisbury probably did. Your lack of response only made his grin widen, and he said, "Do you think I'm gonna eat you?" He continued, but his tone wasn't frightening. It was suggestive. It made your cheeks heat up, but, luckily, you were interrupted by the whistle of the teapot before you could respond.

"T-Tea's ready." You announced, and you pulled away from his grasp. He let you, and you ignored the smile on his face. You quickly went to prepare for David's reading.

You had grabbed your tray, a cup and saucer, and your cards. You went over to where David was sitting, as the boys had taken up your bench or leaned against the wall to let you through. You had to place the tray on one end of the bed while you climbed on the other, simply so nothing would spill by the sudden shift in weight. You watched David close the book, and place it back near the windowsill. It wasn't one of your spell books, encyclopedias, or even a regular one. It was your sketchbook, and you flushed bright red when you realized he had been looking through it. You quickly shook your head, shaking all the embarrassing thoughts away with it. You poured him a cup, and then you said,

"Drink, but not all of it." You said, and he took the cup. The air inside your caravan had shifted. Suddenly, things were just as serious as they had been outside. His hands were still ungloved, and he took a long sip. You took the cup when he was finished, swirling the leaves until they settled. You traced the edge of the cup as you stared down at the leaves, and everything fell silent. Muffled. Everything else faded away, faded into white. Porcelain white. It was almost like you were falling into the cup. You stared, unblinkingly, as David's present folded out in front of you.

An unfamiliar boy. Brown hair with blue eyes. You clung to the image of his face as another quickly appeared. Another boy. This time with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. He was young, and he was with the boy. They were tied together, you could tell. Brothers. Then, an unfamiliar girl with brown eyes and wild, dark hair. He was staring at her. Following her. It was the girl. He was focusing on the girl. A rumble of bike engines-

You were snapped out of your trance when Paul said,

"Looks kind of like a jellyfish." And you lifted your eyes. You looked up blonde vampire, confusion filling your mind as your trance was suddenly broken. He was standing from his previous seat, leaning over the bed to glance into the cup. You guessed that he'd been dared by the way Marko tried to stifle his laughter. David sent him an icy glare. He'd been watching through your mind, and Paul had interrupted the both of them. You wet your lips, looking down at the cup and turning it so it was facing you at his angle. You let out a small chuckle. He was right.

David seemed ready to snap. His glare only sharpened, and it looked like harsh words were ready to pour out of his mouth. You quickly shook your hands in front of you, placing the cup onto the saucer.

"No, no, it's fine. That's actually a good- good thing." You said. You stuttered because you'd looked straight at Paul, who had quickly smiled when you defended him. You looked away, but looking at David provided you little relief. "Well, it's not a good thing. It's a good thing to notice. Jellyfish usually mean to be wary." You rambled, and David arched a brow at you. You gulped, and then said, "Stingers." As if to explain. David stared at you, and you looked at the others. It took you a moment to realize that they were waiting for you to explain what you saw. It wasn't until David said, 

"Well?" That it finally clicked. You cleared your throat, choosing to look safely down at the bed and pick at your comforter as you said,

"Well, you've met someone recently. It's not clear how this will affect your future, but- Well, you should be wary." You said, and you looked up to see that his face was perfectly neutral. He looked over your face, as if he was debating something. Surprisingly, Dwayne spoke.

"Of him?" His voice was a deep rumble, and it was the first time you'd heard him talk. Your eyes quickly cast to him at the sound of his voice. Well, it wasn't the first time. He was the one who had scolded Paul for lifting your caravan. David frowned. It seemed that he hadn't wanted to reveal any more than he had to. Hadn't wanted to reveal that it was the boy they had just met. It was probably what he'd been debating, but Dwayne had decided that they needed to know. Or, at least, he did. You scratched your cheek, staring down at the cup. You didn't fall into it like last time, but it was almost like a whisper of a trance. You couldn't dive back in without making David drink another cup of tea. You sighed.

"I think of all of them. I-I didn't see enough to be able to tell." You admitted, and you looked up to watch David cast Paul another glare. You almost felt bad for the boy, even if his brother, Marko, only snickered at his scolding. "It'll make more sense when I read your cards." You said, trying to ease the growing tension. David glared at the other vampire for just another moment, before his eyes flicked back to you and he nodded for you to begin.

You pushed the tray out of the way, just as your cat began to wander out of the bathroom. He quickly skirted past the three vampires and jumped onto your bed. When he found a vampire there as well, he flattened his ears and growled. He laid next to your side, partially shielding you from the three vampires on your left and the vampire in front of you. It seemed he'd finally gotten over his fear, or like he knew something you didn't. You didn't want to dwell on which one it was. You scratched him behind the ears as you held your cards, before you cut the deck into fourths. You paired them up, shuffling them, before you placed one half on top of the other. As you did, you thought your intention over and over. Finally, you took out three cards one by one. While the boys just saw a normal deck of cards, you saw them move. You saw what they represented clear as day. First, you pulled the three of cups.

The picture danced in front of you. The normal picture of three friends holding three chalices in a toast became five. Four of them danced around the fifth, each of them bearing resemblance to either the boys in front of you or the boy you had seen. They were celebrating, welcoming, and building friendships. The good times were rolling, and it seemed like they would never end. The chalice had turned into a bottle, and the fifth, unknown boy was the one holding it. He drank, and you quickly assumed exactly what was taking place.

You smiled, and glanced up at David. You hoped this happy start would lead to them leaving you alone. Then, you pulled the second card. It was the four of swords. The smile fell from your face.

The normal picture of a heart with four swords running through it changed. The card pulled back, revealing the owner of said heart. It was Marko. He hung upside down, and you watched as the four swords turned into a single stake. You watched as three boys, only one who you recognized, appeared in the card. The one you knew remained below, while the other two climbed. You watched as one of them with a red bandana drove the stake through Markos heart, mimicking the previous picture.

You stared, but you didn't say a word. Before the boys could ask or protest, you pulled the last card. 

Death. While it didn't always mean what people thought, you watched as the picture changed. The skeleton knight on horseback changed. Instead of a horse, it became a motorbike. The knight turned into the boy you had seen, but his face was different. His face was vampiric, mimicking the skeleton face revealed in the knights armor. He held antlers in his hand instead of a flag. Normally, the card showed a priest, two people begging for their lives, and a corpse. The priest had transformed into the platinum blonde before you, the two beggars took the shape of Dwayne and Paul, and the corpse had become Marko. But none of them would escape death.

You let out a long, shaky breath. You pulled the cards back into the deck, and you gathered Salisbury in your arms. You'd been careful to keep your thoughts clear, and the boys awaited the verdict. You tried to keep yourself composed, but your hands were shaking even as you pet your cat. You avoided David's gaze, and the platinum blonde frowned. 

"What did you see?"

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter 18 - Embry Call x Reader

Campsite 

I woke up to a slight commotion around me. I look around to see Sam, Jacob, and Embry running around, trying to get everything together for our departure. 

“Good morning.” I whisper, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. 

“Morning, babe.” Embry walks over, helping me up. 

“What can I help with?” I ask.

“Well, we’re just packing your car right now. So if you want to help with that, you can. We did most of it already.” Jacob smiles softly.

“Alright, what can I grab?” I look around.

“Just grab someone’s backpack or something. Maybe some of the water, it’s up to you. We’ll get the heavy stuff, though.” Sam smiles. 

I nod and grab a few backpacks, bringing them out to my car. 

Embry pulls me aside outside, grabbing me by the waist.

“I love you, bean. I just want to let you know that.” He says, tears brimming his eyes.

“I love you too, Embry. Please don’t be upset, we’re all gonna be okay. Nobody is going to die. Please don’t say it like that.” I look up into his eyes, mine growing teary as I spoke.

“No, I know. I just wish you weren’t put into this situation. I just, I want you to know that one day, we won’t have to worry about this kind of stuff.” He presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I know, but for right now let’s be strong about this. We’ve been strong this whole time.” I smile up at him.

“I know.” He smiles.

“Now, let’s go wake everyone up.” I say, grabbing his hand and leading him back into Sam’s house. 

We walk back into the living room to see that Jacob took care of that, he got everyone up except for Paul. 

“Jacob, I swear if you don’t give me five more minutes I will actually break your arm.” Paul mumbles into the pillow. 

“Paul, I gave you five more minutes twice already. Get your ass up, we have to leave in ten minutes.” Jacob says in an annoyed manner. 

“Great, so I can have another five minutes.” Paul grumbles. 

“Paul, get up.” Jacob tries again. 

“(Y/N), maybe you should try after it went so well last time.” Quil suggests with a chuckle, earning a curious look from Embry and Jacob. 

I roll my eyes and walk over to Paul’s sleeping body, sitting down next to him.

“Paul, you gotta wake up. We gotta go.” I shake him lightly.

“Ugh, (Y/N)... just give me one more minute, please?” He says in a much kinder tone. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jacob asks in an annoyed tone. 

“Paul, every minute counts. We gotta get to the campsite.” I plead.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road.” He mumbles, getting up. 

“Why do you listen to her, huh? I’ve been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes!” Jacob hisses with a slight chuckle. 

“Well, I can hit you. I can’t hit (Y/N), she’d snap in half.” Paul raspily laughs. 

“Okay, first of all. I could absolutely take you. Second, you gotta be less of a grouch in the morning.” I scold, laughing. 

“Alright, boss.” Paul rolls his eyes, walking past us.

“See? We should just make (Y/N) do it more.” Quil laughs.

“I mean, much safer.” Embry laughs. 

“Alright, it’s time to go.” Leah says, walking in from the kitchen. 

“Okay, let’s hit the road.” I smile softly, following her. 

We all walked outside to my car when I suddenly realized that my car only fits five people. Sam must’ve known that I began worrying about that by the look on my face. 

“Two of them will go to the site first, to ensure that it’s clear. I’m sending Quil and Jake up there first. The rest of you will drive there and meet them.” Sam instructs. 

“That’s a good idea. You guys already picked a site?” I ask.

“Yeah, it’s one we found on patrol. We know it pretty well.” Embry rubs his hand on my arm in a comforting fashion. 

“Okay, great.” I smile.

“Alright, come give me a hug.” Emily says, opening her arms wide.

I walk into her welcoming arms, accepting her tight hug. 

“Everything will be fine, don’t worry, honey.” She smiles and presses a kiss to my cheek. 

Seth then walks over to me, giving me another tight hug, much tighter than Emily’s. 

“I wish I could come, I really do.” He whispers in my ear. 

“I know, Seth. I do, too. But you gotta let someone else have a turn stopping some vengeful leech from killing me.” I chuckle.

“I guess so.” He gives a somber laugh. 

“Bring it in, guys.” Seth says, not loosening his grip on me. 

Suddenly, they were all hugging me. Brady, Collin, Jared, Sam. All the ones who wouldn’t come with me. 

“Thank you guys, I’ll see you in a few days.” I smile as everyone pulls away. 

“We’ll see you soon.” Sam nods. 

I hand my keys over to Embry who would be driving my car to the site. 

“Paul, do you want the front seat? You’re like eight feet tall, too.” I joke. 

“I mean, if you don’t mind…” He smirks.

“You got it.” I smile, getting into the back seat with Leah. 

As he starts the car and drives off, I can’t help but look back at everyone staying back. I thought about how much I needed to come back, how I want to see them again. 

I thought about my dad. I know that they’d routinely check on the house, making sure everything was okay… but how could I not be worried?

I’m sure Billy would hang out with him, he’d invite him to the reservation to get him out of the house. I was sure that they would protect him.

I was sure that my friends would protect me. I knew that was absolutely certain.

But who would protect them?  

My thoughts drove me to the point of exhaustion, though I’m sure my lack of sleep was of no help. I soon felt my eyes droop and I fell asleep. 

By the time I woke up, we were almost there.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Paul teases. 

“We’re almost there, babe. Five more minutes.” Embry smiles. 

“Alright.” I smile, looking to my right, noticing Leah was asleep. 

“Just so you know, the road doesn’t continue to the site, so we’ll be doing some off roading in your car.” Embry chuckles.

“Please don’t break what you can’t fix.” I groan. 

“I won’t. Jake and I can fix a lot.” He smirks, looking back at me in the mirror. 

I shake my head, softly laughing to myself. 

After a bumpy few moments of driving on the grass, we made it to the site. I look and see Jacob and Quil waiting for us. 

“Took you long enough.” Quil jokes as I get out of the car. 

“Nice to see you, too.” I chuckle. 

“(Y/N), you put the tent in the trunk right?” Jake asks.

My stomach dropped. 

“What? I didn’t have the tent. Nobody told me…” I say, panic ensuing.

“I’m just messing with you, I put it into the truck.” He laughs.

“Screw you, Jake.” I stifle my laughter. 

“Alright, let’s set it up.” Paul says, getting out of the car. 

Embry opens the trunk and the guys begin unloading everything, setting the site up. 

It was my job to go wake Leah up.

“Hey, Leah. We’re here.” I say softly, gently shaking her.

“Alright, I’m coming.” She blinks herself awake. 

We make our way back to the guys, offering to help. 

After about a half an hour or so, everything was ready to go. 

“This tent is huge.” I say, walking inside.

“Because you’re the only one in it right now. After we’re all in it, it’ll feel a little smaller.” Quil laughs. 

“Maybe.” I shrug. 

“Did you guys pick up on anything on your way here?” Embry asks Quil.

“Nothing. Which is a good thing.” He tells him.

“Yeah, let’s hope it stays that way.” Embry huffs.

“Well, how can we pass some time?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“We could play cards or something.” Jacob shrugs.

“You brought some?” I ask.

“I did, I knew we’d get bored.” He laughs.

And so we did, we played a few different games. War, go fish, and spit. Things got pretty competitive and we killed some time. Overall, it was still pretty early. 

“Well, I am starving.” Embry announces. 

“Me too.” Quil whines. 

“We could eat, we have food.” I laugh. 

So we did, Quil and Embry had too much fun making their sandwiches, though. 

“If you throw jelly one more time, I will hurt you.” Leah warns. 

“Alright, alright. We get it, you hate fun.” Quil teases.

“No, I just hate the feeling of sticky jelly on my arm.” She laughs, playfully shoving him. 

That shut them up for a few minutes. 

“So, how’s Alyssa?” Jacob asks. 

“She’s good.” Leah answers him, a bit thrown off by his question. 

“Does she know what’s going on?” He asks. 

“She knows the jist, she knows we had to go away. Seth is going to check on her for me.” She takes a sip of her water. 

“That’s good.” Jacob smiles softly.

“How are you, are you okay?”

“I’m alright, I’ll be okay. I just have to accept what is, I guess.” He looks down at his hands. 

“You’ll be alright.” She comforts him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I hope so.” He scoffs. 

“Jake, I know you’ll be okay. We missed you, we’re here for you. Every step of the way.” I assure him.

“Thank you, I missed you all, too.” 

The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting, trying to have some fun. 

Jacob and Paul were wrestling, all of us taking bets on who’d win. 

I sat in Embry’s lap, listening to his heartbeat thump against his chest. 

Quil and I played slaps, I soon learned that playing with Quil was no fun. As it hurt me far too much and he felt no pain whatsoever. He was a real cheater. 

“Quil, want to play 52 pick up?” Leah asks. 

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Don’t do it, you’ll never win.” I tease. 

“I will so win.” He scoffs. 

“Alright, whatever you say.” I roll my eyes.

Embry chuckles behind me, laughing at his friend’s naivety. 

“Alright, Leah. Show me how to play.” 

She smiles, dropping the cards in front of him. 

“Pick them up.” Her grin stretched ear to ear, trying to control her giggles. 

“What?” Quil asks, astonished. 

“You have to pick them up, that’s the game.” Embry laughs.

“This is not right. This is messed up.” Quil huffs, bending down to pick up the cards as we all laugh at him. 

“Alright, who would win in a fight: Batman or Aquaman?” Quil asks. 

“Is the fight underwater or on land?” Embry asks. 

“On land.” 

“Batman, for sure. No question.” Embry laughs. 

“Alright, so what about… Deadpool or Captain America?” I ask.

“Asking the real questions here.” Jacob laughs. 

“I’d say Deadpool.” Paul remarks.

“No way, it’d absolutely be Captain America.” Quil argues.

“He can’t kill him.” Paul argues. 

“But he’s stronger and faster. He might not be able to kill him but he can knock him out or something.” Embry interjects.

“I mean, I don’t know. Deadpool fights dirty. He’s got a good chance.” Jacob shrugs. 

Well, low and behold-- this turned into a screaming match that lasted about an hour and a half. It ended with Quil and Paul going at it for another fifteen minutes, Paul dislocating Quil’s shoulder. 

“Damn it, Paul!” Quil winces.

“You’ll be fine in like fifteen minutes, it’s fine.” He laughs. 

Eventually, it became dinner time. Not that they weren’t snacking every half an hour anyway. Dinner brought upon many different conversations; cars, music, and well that one other thing. 

“I just wonder when she’s coming.” I push my fork around on my plate. 

“Well, Sam told me that Alice said it would be our third day here. So the day after tomorrow, I guess.” Jacob sighs. 

“But we’ll be ready.” Paul assures me.

“We got you, babe. Don’t worry.” Embry presses a kiss to my temple and wraps his arm around my waist. 

As we all finished eating, I took it upon myself to start the fire. 

Leah came over and helped me while Paul and Jacob went to go get firewood. 

Quil and Embry joined us, making small talk while we waited for Jacob and Paul to return. 

“How big do you think we could make this?” Quil asks.

“We’re in the middle of the woods, I don’t think that’s something we should test out today, bud.” I laugh. 

“Good point. I’m sure we could make it pretty big.” He looks at the flames. 

“Yeah… we could. But we won’t.” Leah looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

I watch the shadows on Embry’s face. How the orange illumination from the flames casted those shadows on all of his features. 

“What’s up, bean?” He asks as he catches me staring. 

“You’re just beautiful.” I blush.

He smiles, leaning his face into the crook of my neck. I rake my fingers through his soft, black hair. 

Listening to the crackle of the fire was something that always put me at ease, and it almost did. I would’ve felt completely at ease if there wasn’t someone out there who wanted to kill me. I would feel more at ease if I wasn’t worried for the safety of those I held closest to my heart. 

I look around our fire, admiring everyone’s faces. 

Leah’s strong cheekbones illuminated from the flames, her soft eyes were ones that always brought a sense of calm to me. 

Quil’s curly hair that tickled the sides of his face and his forehead was something I always enjoyed. Quil’s curly hair was a staple. An impish grin always plastered on his face. 

Jacob’s wide jaw was hit perfectly with light from the fire. His softer facial features contrasted from his large, toned build. A small smile rested upon his face. 

Paul’s chiseled face shone beautifully in the fire. His skin reflected the orange light, complimenting his complexion. His face looked at the fire with a harsher expression than everyone else’s, though his eyes remained soft and happy. 

All my friends were so beautiful. 

I loved them more I could put into words, they were my family. 

After our long day, it was seemingly expected that everyone grew tired earlier than usual. 

I pull out my phone to check the time, a little after 11:00. I decided to send my dad a goodnight text. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night.” Leah yawns. 

“I think we all should.” Jacob agrees. 

“Come on babe.” Embry mumbles sleepily on my shoulder. 

And with that, we all went into the tent. 

Despite my best efforts and everyone else around me falling asleep, I was still wide awake. I grew restless and decided that I wanted to go and sit by the fire once again, knowing that the woman wouldn’t be of concern for another two days. 

I slowly get up and try to unzip the tent as quietly as possible, as I didn’t want to wake anyone up. They’ve had a long day and have a few more ahead of them. 

I finally get outside the tent and sit down by the fire when I hear the zipper behind me. 

“Fancy seeing you out here.” Paul whispers as he zips the tent closed behind him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry.” I watch as he walks over, taking a seat next to me.

“Nah, no worries. I wasn’t even asleep.” He chuckles.

“Oh, why not?” I ask, looking up at him. 

“I don’t know honestly. Just had a weird feeling. Guess it’s good though, because you ended up sneaking off alone. Why are you up?” He smirks at me. 

“Sneaking off? I stepped like fifteen feet away from the tent to sit by the fire, I’d hardly call that sneaking off.” I playfully shove him. 

“But, I can’t sleep. My mind is racing.” I shrug.

“Ah, that’s fair.” He nods.

“I really want to thank you, all of you, honestly. You guys really don’t have to do this, protecting me all the time. I know Embry, Jake, and Quil will always do it, but I really am grateful.” 

“(Y/N), we do have to, but we also want to. You’re important to all of us, we’ve known you since we were kids.” He says, putting an arm around me.

“I guess. I just, I know a lot of it is because Embry imprinted on me, but I really love how close we all are.” I smile.

“Well, even if Embry didn’t imprint on you, we’d love you all the same. You’d probably just be way less informed, unless you figured it out somehow.” 

“That’s true. Thank you, Paul. You’re really good at this whole comforting thing. You should be more open to everyone else about it, though.” I chuckle.

“Eh, maybe one day. I have a bad boy reputation to uphold.” He teases, playfully nudging me. 

“Yeah, you’re right. You were always a pain in the ass as a kid, you still are. But it’s great, don’t change it.” I tease. 

“I’m really happy you came back, (Y/N). You were always able to keep up.” He laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m happy I’m back, too. Someone’s gotta put you in your place sometimes.” 

“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes. 

“But honestly, Paul. I do really want to thank you. You really do protect me more than I could ever ask of you. At the training sessions when Emmett got too close, when Embry and Jake duked it out, you just always keep an eye out for me. I appreciate it, a lot. Thank you.” 

“Of course, any time. Some things never change.” He laughs. 

And then I flashed back to some other childhood memories. When someone was being mean to me in school, if Embry, Jake, or Quil weren’t around, Paul would kick their ass. Even if my other friends were around, Paul would find them later and kick their ass. Anyone who gave me a problem dealt with Paul.

“You’re right.” I laugh. “But why?” 

“Well, I didn’t think it was much of a secret but I used to have a crush on you.” He shrugs.

“What? You had a crush on me?” I ask astonishedly. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks with a smirk.

“I just mean, you’re you… and I’m me. You had options, a lot of options. I was less than favorable to most.” I laugh.

“What? Is that really how you think it was? You’re definitely favorable to most. You’re awesome. You’re so nice, funny, cool, and beautiful. Don’t say that about yourself.” He says, face contorted in confusion.

“I mean, it is kinda how I viewed myself, and sometimes I still do feel that way. But thank you, Paul. That’s very sweet of you.” I blush.

“Of course, I just speak the truth. I was excited when you came back because then we could spend time together, but then if I’m honest-- it was really bittersweet when Embry imprinted on you. On one hand, we didn’t have to hide anything from you, you could be around us as much as you’d like, and you guys would be happy. You were always in love. But the selfish part of me was a little disappointed at first. But I grew to love and appreciate you as a good friend, so don’t think I’m being weird or trying to push any boundaries. I’m not, I respect you guys and your relationship. I’m really happy for the both of you.” He smiles softly at me. 

“And all that time I thought you were flirting with me as a joke!” I chuckle. 

“But honestly, Paul… I’m glad you can be honest with me. I appreciate your friendship a lot, I’m glad you feel that way, too. Thank you for being so supportive of us, despite your feelings.” I give a soft smile. 

“Of course, I’m happy for you guys. I knew that he would imprint on you, that was kind of out of the question. Though, I will say when you told Quil you thought I was cute when we were 13, I never let Embry hear the end of it.” He laughs.

“How did I know you’d do such a thing? So Embry knew?” I ask.

“Yeah of course he knew, it drove him nuts.” Paul smirks. 

I roll my eyes and laugh at his cockiness.

“Thanks for understanding, (Y/N). It feels good to be honest with you, but I won’t make things weird. I promise, I’m not trying to do anything. I really do care for you as a friend.” He smiles.

“I know, Paul. I appreciate your honesty.” I smile. 

“I appreciate you listening.” He chuckles.

“Any time.” I wrap my arm around his shoulder, giving it a small, comforting squeeze. 

We sat and talked for a few minutes, until I began to yawn. 

“Alright, get to bed.” Paul instructs, standing us both up.

“You got it, boss.” I chuckle, walking into the tent. 

And with that, I plopped myself down next to Embry. His arms snaked around me, pulling me closer into his side. 

“Hey baby.” He mumbles.

“Hi Em.” I whisper, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck.

“I love you.” He presses a tired kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you, too.” I say, closing my eyes, soon to fall asleep. 

When I woke up, nobody else was awake. I was really struggling to stay asleep. I check my phone and see that it was 5:00 in the morning, just right before sunrise. 

I sigh, sitting up to rub the crust out of my eyes. 

“Why are you up, babe?” Embry mumbles sleepily. 

“I can’t sleep, I’m gonna watch the sunrise.” I whisper. 

“Ok, I’ll come out in a minute.” He grumbles, beginning to stretch himself awake. 

“Wake everyone up, it’s gonna be beautiful up here.” I smile, unzipping the tent to observe the sky. 

Though the serene feeling I expected to feel wasn’t what I was met with… no I felt an overwhelming sense of dread. 

I look around, observing my surroundings. I felt every bone in my body tingling, but I couldn’t quite grasp why.

“Embry…” I whisper, unable to actually speak. 

And then I saw her. She was a couple hundred yards in front of me. She wore a malicious grin on her face, staring me down. 

“Why are you so scared?” She taunts, walking closer.

“You should go, you’re going to die.” I warn.

“They’re all asleep, you’re all alone.” She moved about fifty feet closer to me. 

“You won’t win. This isn’t worth it. We both know how this ends.” I try to reason.

“It doesn’t matter. They took the one thing from me that mattered most. It’s my turn to do it to them.” She sneers, moving closer to me. 

I back up, falling into the tent. 

Her laughter echoed my ears, overtaking the rest of my senses. It was all I heard. 

I began to run, right to the treeline.

I felt her ice cold hands grab my arm. 

“Let go.” I warn.

“No.” She smiles, tightening her hold on me. 

I felt something pop and I let out a scream, in excruciating pain. 

It was then that I finally realized that some of them were phased, running towards us. She must not have noticed at first either, as she didn’t turn around and realize until my attention was to them and not her. 

It was then that I felt her bite my bicep, where she was holding. Soon after, she was ripped off of me and I fell to the ground. Jacob, Quil, and Paul were tearing her apart about a hundred feet away. 

But all I felt was burning. Fire surged within me, spreading throughout my entire body. I felt myself thrashing around, my body uncontrollably spasming. I couldn’t control anything, I felt like I was screaming my lungs out, though I had no idea how loud I was. This pain was… unimaginable. 

Embry and Leah ran over to me, Embry immediately grabbing one of my hands. 

I couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly, everything was so cloudy. The pain searing through my body was too intense. It felt as if acid was flowing through my veins, no words would accurately describe this pain. 

“Where… Carlisle?” 

“Changed… last… decision…” I think that was Alice. 

“Fix… take… out…” 

“Too late…” 

I couldn’t make out anything anymore, my vision was fading to black. 

__________________ Word Count: 4151

 I  II  III  IV  V  VI  VII  VIII  VIIII  X  XIR XIE  XII  XIII  XIV  XV XVI  XVII  XVIII  XIIII

[readbyred]

“Pathetic” Ted Spankoffski x Reader

a gender neutral, reverse hurt/comfort fic

warnings: cursing; mild sexual comments; a very tired dyslectic author

Lately, things haven’t been going so well for Ted. Charlotte broke things off for good and it was far from pretty, the atmosphere was crushing to be honest. And so with time he latched onto Paul more and more, using his best friend as a distraction from his own life and failiures. Unfortunately his companion seemed to be a bit distracted and not very eager to spend time, at least less so than usually. Ted pinned the fault on a crush of his, Emma, one of the baristas at a nearby caffee. She was hot and would be great if onyl she didn’t speak, or at least that’s what he told Paul. His friend didn’t seem to agree for some reason. But that’s how it was, in Ted’s opinion. She always got offended for so many small things and tried to make him out to be the bad guy of every confrontation. But it wasn’t Ted’s fault that their uniform shorts were so short and besides one or two comments were just a given considering how good her and her coworkers looked in them. But she always had something to say, a name to call him or even a complaint to make, if her boss was around. But even then it was all fun and games. Until one day it wasn’t.

It all started “innocently” as he considered it. He spotted Paul using the stairs on the opposide side of the building. Some time ago his friend had stopped using the ones by Ted’s office, for one reason or another. And so they made their way together, Ted trying to get some information out of him as to how things with Emma were. Finally after a conversation more painful than pulling teeth Paul announced that he was going to ask Emma out. It was a big step and it surprised Ted but after some teasing he promised not to blow this. So far so good and it wasn’t until they stood in the line, inside the cafe, that it went downhill.

It was meant to be a harmless comment, he knew Emma found them at least a bit funny too, for sure. Nothing bad, he just asked whet else could she do for a tip if she didn’t want to sing. She already looked very annoyed, he never expected her to appreciate his humour and so he nudged Paul saying that he might give her a different tip if she didn’t want his money. That, for reasons unknown to Ted, crossed the line and Emma whipped around to face them frustrated. She turned to Paul to announce that although she liked him around if his friend was going “to come around only to be a gross creep” then they might as well just go to starbucks instead, since she “didn't go to this shitty job to get harassed”

Ted didn’t even get to say that technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong because Paul who was now done with awkwardly apologizing to his very pissed off crush, dragged him out of the Beanies, furious. They didn’t talk and to be honest Ted started to feel a bit anxious inside, like a child feels when they tip off their parent in public and know what will await them home.

But that was just how he was! A sleazeball, a jerk, a horny bastard at best. He didn’t want to accept that same persona that was now basically his whole self could have gotten him in trouble with his best friend. And he was never a fan of feeling guilty in general so as soon as he realised that Paul wasn’t going to address it he turned to the first person that asked what happened.

It was Bill who questioned the situation first and although he asked Paul what was up the younger man seemed not to be in the mood to talk and so there was Ted, ready to offer his, very objective, point of view. Leaning on the wall of Bill’s cubicle he announced, trying to sound like he didn't care that he obviously did something bad.

“His grumpy barista got pissed for no reason” chuckling nervously he exclaimed glancing over at Paul working on his computer and ignoring him “it’s not my fault she’s so stiff, alright? And there are many more girls than her, it’s her loss, ey?”

No response. Bill seemed to glance at Paul pitifully.

“Oh, come on! You can do better anyways! And as your best friend I-”

“Can you shut up?” Paul didn’t raise his voice but he as well might have, the tone he was using was way worse. He fully turned to face his older coworker, and for a very long time in a while Ted was, in fact quiet. As he spoke however he became more visibly frustrated “Can you finally stop following me around when I don’t want to be followed, trying to insert yourself into EVERY conversation i have and ruining everything with your gross comments? Why can’t you take the hint? We are not friends, you- you’re just this guy, a guy from work that’s just there when no one wants him to and is just too... pathetic for anyone to directly tell him that''

Ted’s face went blank as Paul let out his years worth of frustrations.

Ted often heard those words. “Pathetic” yes, he was familiar with the term more than anyone. It was alongside such titles as “annoying” “sad” “lonely” “disposable” “a nobody” something he heard often. Sometimes from Sylvia who worked on the top floor and had no real fun qualities besides looking hot (in his opinion). Other times from Emma who would be a decent friend if she wasn't so annoyingly ‘horny for Paul’.

Most of the time he said them himself though. It was normal, you know. A truth he accepted without any brooding except for those lonely nights in his apartment where he drank and let his emotions out. But it hurt no less to hear such remarks be thrown at him from someone like Paul. Someone who, despite his flaws seemed to be genuinely liked by people around him and wanted around. But if Paul wasn't his friend did he have anyone else at all? Not only in his job but in general. After all he didn’t have much besides his work life.

In his youth he was a nerdy little kid that quickly bloomed into a bitter, insecure adult, no magical glow up or ‘it gets better after high school” crap. When he got this job sometime after college, still a mess after that happened a few autumns earlier, he thought he found his place.

Even if he never felt very wanted he liked it here a lot. Only now had he realized he might have been the only one to see it as such. Was he just as sad as everyone apparently saw him as?

That moment made him way too conscious of his own existence and choices, it was no longer a matter of convincing himself that it's all in his head now that the truth was out and clear, the words hanging in the heavy air seemingly for the whole world to see.

And to be fair he had no arguments against the claim, because how sad that was to consider his coworkers, coworkers that apparently hated his guts, the closest people he had?

Because sure, Bill was stiff and boring but there was a certain dose of fun in their usual banter. Sylvia always knew all the gossip from the office and wasn’t all that bad at times. Melissa was always fun to hang around and even brought him lunch on a few ocassions. Even the intern that joined merely two months before, (Y/n), was someone he accepted as a friend. Not to mention Paul and Charlotte, two of the closest people he had, both of which didn’t want him around. And from what Paul said no one else did either. He had no reason not to believe it.

It took him only a few seconds to get it together when Paul finished.Ted always had a habit of getting very obviously defensive when his ego was hurt.

“Okay, whatever!” he shrugged angrily “Well, it’s not your problem then! I know when I’m not wanted”

He made his way to his office, away from Paul and Bill and all those people who he considered to be his friends.

*

The whole day was a bit messy, ever since (Y/n)’s foot stepped into the office they were sent on endless errands by their superior, Mr Davidson. Whatever happened up above in the chain it created one hell of a mess in the documents and so (Y/n) along with Melissa were the busiest they’ve been in a while.

Hence when they finally found time to get some well deserved coffee most of their friends were on their way back to CCRP.

That led to a lot of confusion when after stepping onto their floor they were met with an unusually tense atmosphere. They must have missed something important, they thought.

It wasn’t a long time ago when they joined the team and they never felt like the new person they were and all the efforts at staying purely professional faded with first friendships. And as much as they tried to,they became fond of their coworkers quickly. And so the current mood around them concerned (Y/n).

This wasn’t snooping around, they told themselves approaching Bill to ask what was up. He was a nice man, older than them and equally unskilled in the tech field but overall a very sweet man. If there was something to be concerned about he’d tell them for sure.

The day was almost over, one hour was left until Ted could go home and drink himself to sleep. But for now he just sat in his chair, staring blankly on the screen of his computer displaying a familiar black and orange webpage he was unusually uninterested in, mindlessly squishing his old and used up stress ball. The busiest hours were over and all files seemed to finally be back in place and safe and so he didn’t have much more to keep himself busy with.

He was angry, upset and hurt. Already keeping so many negative emotions inside, those new ones threatened to spill over the edges of the walls he built over the years but so far he managed to keep it together as much as he could.

And that’s when someone knocked on his door.

“What?” he sounded just like he felt, his own voice betraying him greatly. The person on the other side must’ve taken it as an invitation because soon they revealed themselves to be (Y/n). It wasn’t the last person he wanted to see, sure, but it was only because he didn’t want to see any of them equally. Maybe Paul a bit more than the rest “What do you want?”

“I heard what happened and-” they began, watching him carefully. Ted felt even more miserable under their gaze, truly pathetic and judged with his emotions on display. But there was no more space left for him to push them further down and ignore.

“Great, you came here to tell me how much you hate me too, or what?” he scoffed giving them a bitter look “Because I ‘acted like an asshole’?”

“You did from what I know” they responded. It wasn’t something he didn’t expected to hear but he felt even worse hearing it come from (Y/n). They were someone he had his eyes on for some time but never got to try anything. First, because he was with Charlotte and, as much of a jerk as he considered himself to be, he would never forgive himself for being just like Sam. Later when she ended things it was just too painful to jump back into ‘his game’ as he called it. As he always believed, he wasn’t able to fall in love. He did so once in college and never again. It was easier to believe than to face his fear of rejection and not being enough again. Sure, he didn’t exactly love (Y/n) and even if he could do it at all he probably wouldn't, knowing them for two or three months tops. Those sorts of feelings though, weren’t distant at all and their arrival was, at this point, almost inevitable. And so to hear them stand against him, even if rightfully so, hit him in a way he never anticipated. Hence his confused expression when they added “But I came here to check on you, you’ve been locked in here awfully long...”

“I was busy” he barked back quickly returning to his defensive tone. They sometimes asked him things like this one for no apparent reason as to why would they want to know that. He never fully gave in, only sometimes in passing throwing one or two passive-aggressive remarks referring to his situation with Charlotte and such.

“Bullshit” they raised their eyebrows looking down at him. If it wasn’t for the fact he felt anything but up for joking he’d point out how unusual it was to hear them curse. Unamused they added, awaiting his response “Your screen reflects on the glass behind you. So?”

“’So’ you can leave” with Paul’s words still vividly playing in his head he avoided their gaze. The possibility that they thought of him so lowly seeming very overbearing and terrible all of a sudden “I’m fine, alright? So what else you came here for”

“You know acting like this never worked on me, right?” they took the seat opposite to him, still acting very unbothered by his aggressive demeanour, maybe a bit impatient.

“And why do you even want to know that, huh? I mean really, (Y/n), I know you’re new around here but you really don’t have to kiss ass to-”

“Get over yourself, will you? If you’d like to know I was worried” their frown was gone almost as soon as it appeared as they went one, seemingly letting their words fall from their mouth freely “And yeah! You cross many lines, I’m not surprised Emma was mad, whatever you said to her. But you’re still someone I care about, as a person. And you’re not that bad most of the time, you know?”

“If you really want to have a place to stay over the weekend it wouldn’t hurt to ask more nicely, you know” Ted jumped between acts and masks, desperate to find one strong enough to hide whatever that was that made his expression soften.

“Look, I came here on my own but if you want things to go back to how they were you’ll really need to drop the act” they sighed, gaining a bit more of a serious tone.

“And you tell me that? It was Paul who decided to call me a lonely pathetic asshole” Ted knew well only one of those things actually came from Paul but if there was even the smallest possibility to have someone disagree with what he and others thought of him he’d gladly take it, even if it wouldn’t be honest. But what was more pathetic than fishing for a surely insincere ‘oh no, you’re not!’?

“And he regretted it right after, I spoke to him, really. I’m not going to try to make you shake each other’s hands and apologize, you can do that on your own if you want to. I’m just saying you both screwed up, there isn’t one person to blame”

“Okay, (Y/n)” he sighed “That’s cool of you to try and be moral like that but I don’t need to talk or make up with anyone so you either want to cheer me up my way or you can get back to work”

He let his eyes travel up and down their body freely, assured by their earlier statements and a bit relieved that they didn’t share Paul’s opinion. He looked back up when they stood up, torning to the door. Just before he could mentally curse himself out for ruining it they stopped.

“Tell you what, it’s Friday. I’ll make something up to get out of softball practice and we can go grab a drink” they said grabbing the doorknob “That’s the closest I’ll get to doing it ‘your way’. What do you say?”

“Wait really?” it was rare to see him truly surprised like that but it was the last thing he was expecting to come from them.

“Yeah, I can show you a cool place” they smiled walking out and turning back for the last time “come by my desk in an hour and we’ll be good to go”

The door closed leaving him alone again in a much brighter office.

Ted felt a small smile form on his face, a geniuine one too. Things were awful and he didn’t even want to think about how (Y/n) made him feel or how awkward things were going to be in the office from now on. But even if nothing was alright yet, it seemed that he was getting a bit closer to ‘okay’ and that was more than enough.

tag list:

@stopgettingonmynerves

@joeycupcakerichter

[ordinaryschmuck]

What I thought about WandaVision

Y'know, it's kind of crazy to think that it's been over a year since we've been given any content involving the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Marvel Studios announced so many great movies, on top of new TV shows that actually impact the story, way back in the summer of 2019. But then 2020 happened. Resulting in everything, and I mean everything, we were promised getting pushed back for another year. So, when it was finally announced that the series WandaVision was, at last, ready to be released, fans were both excited as well as skeptical. Because the first thing that would reintegrate us back into this franchise would be a show about how two Avengers are stuck in a sitcom. It might be new, long-awaited content, but it also doesn't sound all that interesting. Could a story involving two characters who have yet to stand on their own be enough to carry a brand new adventure? Well, for eight whole weeks, fans were given that answer. And personally, I will admit that WandaVision might have been better than anybody could have ever expected...for the most part.

(Final spoiler warning if you haven't seen the show yet)

WHAT I LIKE

It Just Goes: This is easily the best way the series could have started. We are given no context about what is going on. We're just shown that Wanda and Vision are currently stuck in a sitcom, and that's it. By making it a mystery, fans are given this sort of interaction with the series as they find clues and come up with theories about how and why this happened. Sure, some assumptions were more far fetched than others (did people think Mephisto was confirmed just because of one misinterpreted line involving the Devil?), but it still makes the show a ton of fun to watch. Plus, even when we're given answers, it's only tiny pieces of the puzzle. We're always given a chance to figure out the bigger picture, resulting in an image that is, I'll admit, somewhat satisfying to see. Just as long as you ignore the crybabies who get upset that their favorite theories turned out to be wrong.

The Homages are on Point: I also love how straight the cast and crew play with the idea of two superheroes being stuck in a series of sitcoms. Everything they use fits in the era each sitcom takes place in. With things like camerawork, set design, special effects, acting quality, tropes, and even theme songs, everything works as a proper homage than just having two episodes in black and white and the rest in color. Each new sitcom that Wanda and Vision are rebooted in feels so genuine, to the point where they seem like they could be actual shows that could have existed. Seriously, my dad showed me stuff like The Dick Van Dyke Show when I was a kid, so trust me when I say that the very first episode nails the style that it's honoring. Not only is it charming as all forms of hell, but it also works in making these moments when characters break from the spell (get it) all the more jarring and even disturbing at times. Because when you're so keen on watching what seems like a fun and cheesy sitcom, you feel a bit unsettled when a character suddenly acts in a way that's a tad foreboding. Still, it's fun to watch and is easily the central hook for what makes this show work.

The Comedy: The homages also nail the comedy that came from each type of sitcom. The jokes fit with each period, from the cheesy and charming 50s to the cynical and dry 90s and early 2000s. It's another thing the writers play straight with, and I think it works. The only jokes made by most stories like this are just pointing out that these serious characters are stuck in a silly sitcom. Instead, the writers tell jokes that work for the period it's in, and it is all genuinely funny if you're used to those types of goofs and gags. If you didn't laugh, that's because the comedy isn't trying to reach out to you. It's reaching out to the people who actually watched these types of sitcoms. Or, in my case, the type of people who had their parents show them these types of sitcoms. And even then, I still think there are these lines and deliveries that are still funny even if you don't get the joke. For example, there's this brief moment with Vision and a toy baby that got a genuine chuckle out of me for how absurd it was. I wasn't expecting to laugh that much, but on top of the many surprises this show gave, being funny was definitely one of them.

“My husband, and his indestructible forehead”: He...hehe...hehehehahahaHAHAHAHA! AH! HA! HA! HA! 

*Slowly starts sobbing*

>Squeaks<

I see what you did there.

Paul Bettany as “Vision,” “Vision,” and Vision: Can we give Paul Bettany a round of applause for basically playing three different characters, each with their own varying levels of emotions and purposes? Because goodness gracious, this man is a champion! I've seen tons of people praise Elizabeth Olson for her performance as Wanda, and to be fair, she does do a fantastic job...aside from one blatant issue (which I'll get into later). But as great as Olson is, Bettany still deserves some credit. Throughout most of the series, he has this level of comedic-timing that I didn't even know he was capable of, by going ham or just having a dry wit. Seriously, was someone going to tell me that Paul Bettany can be funny, or was I supposed to find that out for myself? On top of being hilarious, Bettany delivers such raw emotion that none of us would have ever expected from this character. That screaming match “Vision” has with Wanda shows the very first time that any version of him has ever been angry, and Bettany does a great job at making that moment as jarring as it needed to be. And that's just from playing one version of the character! I didn't even talk about how he nails the naive yet still wise Vision from the flashback in "Previously On" or the cold and robotic "Vision" from "The Series Finale." Bettany has range, and WandaVision is a great show that proves how. One just needs to have the right amount of vision to see it (HhhhhhhhhhhHA!)

Developing Wanda: But as great as Paul Bettany, and to a lesser extent, Vision, is, Wanda Maximoff is clearly the star of the show here (And yes, I know that it's Wanda who's the character and Elizabeth Olson is the actor, but...I'll get into it!). If WandaVision has taught me anything about these Disney+ shows, it's that we are finally going to get some long-awaited development to characters that are starved from it. And Wanda definitely needed it. Don't get me wrong, Wanda was great in past movies but wasn't that compelling of a character. Here, trust me when I say that the opposite is true. 

We are given a deep dive into not only Wanda's morality but also her psyche. The writers really play around with how scary Wanda can be. As well as questioning if Wanda has the capability of being evil. Because, yeah, what she did was not right. True, our "heroine" was going through some rough s**t, but that doesn't excuse the amount of torture Wanda put the people of Westview through, no matter how unwittingly. Just look at that scene where everyone grills Wanda about what she's doing to them, not only pleading for whatever compromise they can get and even begging for her to kill them instead. That is dark! That is the darkest concept the MCU has ever offered, and the ending of Avengers: Infinity War exists!

But, while it doesn't entirely excuse everything, there is a reason why Wanda did all of this. You see, throughout WandaVision, Wanda goes through the five stages of grief. It all starts with denial as she pretends to live in a sitcom that she created where Vision is alive, and they get to even have kids together. Soon comes anger when she destroys anything and physically harms anyone that tries to bring her back to reality. Next, there's bargaining as Wanda strengthens her hex and expands it to keep outsiders out and keep Vision in. This leads to depression as the weight of all of Wanda's actions finally sinks in, and she's forced to realize the damage she's causing. Until all of it ends with acceptance, as Wanda finally, finally, gets to say goodbye to Vision. Something she never really got when Thanos ripped the mind stone out of Vision's forehead. It's both incredible to watch as it is fascinating. Wanda, through the course of her own little spin-off series, just went from a decent character to one of the most intriguing to dissect in the MCU. And we have this show to thank for it.

The Commercials: These commercials offer three things.

They're more homages to classic television, each product and filming for each one honoring how commercials looked in each era.

They offer more of an insight into Wanda's psyche as we see how each commercial shows bits of her history, regrets, and deepest desires. You see all of the above in the Lagos' paper towel commercial.

There are neat bits of foreshadowing of what's to come, like how Hydra Soak ends by saying it's for "your inner goddess" or how the 90s commercial ends by saying Magic isn't meant for the weak.

With all of that, these commercials are as fun to analyze as they are disturbing as hell.

The Dinner Scene: This was the moment it was clear that WandaVision wasn’t going to just be fun and games. The second that "Mr. Heart" starts screaming at Wanda about why she and Vision came, it becomes clear that the whole wacky scenario our heroes are in isn't as harmless as we all thought. And when "Mrs. Heart" playfully tells her husband to stop it when “Mr. Heart” starts choking, only to desperately scream at Wanda to stop it, audiences begin to piece together that the people of Westview are prisoners--no--victims. As for Wanda? She's the unknowing dictator forcing them to do what she says. And it was this scene that I knew I was going to really enjoy this show.

The Blip Scene: And it was this scene that made WandaVision skyrocket into top-tier MCU territory! As much as I love Spider-Man: Far From Home, I will admit that making a joke with the concept of something like the blip might not have been the best move. But showing the chaos of everyone coming back all at once? On top of showing the confusion that a person would have from being told that a five-second nap was five years? Yeah, that's more in line with what we want.

Returning Characters: Not only was I surprised by the fact that these pretty minor characters in the MCU made a return at all, but I was also shocked to find out they work better in this series than they did in their respective movies. First, there's Monica. Not only is she reintroduced as a brand new hero (with, admittingly, confusing superpowers), but she also works as the anti-Wanda. Both characters had someone they care about dearly die without getting a chance to say goodbye. The difference is that Monica doesn't have the abilities Wanda does and is instead forced to quickly accept that her mom is dead and won't come back. She even admits that she would bring her mom back if she could. But that just makes Monica the perfect person that Wanda needs. A person that understands where she's coming from and tries to convince Wanda to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. Monica's methods may have been a tad bit sloppy, but she is still ten times more intriguing than that little girl who screwed around with the color scheme on Captain Marvel’s suit.

Then there's Jimmy Woo, who is both funnier here than in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and actually shows signs of being a competent FBI agent. A step up, I might add, from the hilariously incompetent character we saw in his previous appearance.

And also, Darcie is here...and still slightly annoying...but at least she still has a couple funny lines here and there! Which is more than I can say with Thor and Thor: The Dark World.

In my opinion, it's a good move having these characters with pretty small roles in vastly different stories make a return. It shows that they are not limited to their one little corner of the MCU. And that they can branch off into taller tales that suit them perfectly. It's pretty cool, and it makes me wonder what other small characters could make a triumphant return.

Billy and Tommy: These two are...fine. Billy and Tommy give me Zach and Cody vibes sometimes, the kids playing them do a decent job, and they both offer some great emotional moments. The problem is that out of the list of characters that WandaVision introduces and reintroduces, there's not much to talk about with Billy and Tommy. Honestly, the only reason why I briefly mentioned that I like them is that I don't want dozens of people crucifying me for not saying anything about them. I don't hate them, but I don't much care for them either.

Evan Peters as Quicksilver: Although I would have loved it if it was Aaron Taylor-Johnson who made a return, seeing Evan Peters in a good Marvel movie again is more than worth it. He plays a much more fun version of Quicksilver while still nailing the sibling relationship the character has with Wanda. In a way, it's a lot like how Marvel cast J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. It's admitting that no one could have played the character better than this one actor and briefly making fans happy in the process. While also not doing something crazy like having it be the exact same Quicksilver from the X-Men movies. Only f**king idiots would believe something like that...

...

...But hypothetically speaking, let's say some people were stupid to believe that. While making an outrageous claim that the writers "lead them on to doing so." In which case, I will say the same thing that one would say when friend-zoning someone: "Nobody led you on to s**t. You were just too busy focusing on what you wanted to see instead of what you needed to see."

Because there was no evidence that it was the same Quicksilver other than the fact that it was the same actor. And, hypothetically speaking, if there were dozens of crybabies who were upset about it not being the same Quicksilver, then I have so much more respect for this character being nothing more than a boner joke. Because you did this to yourselves...hypothetically speaking.

Retconning Wanda’s Powers: ...I'm ok with this. Retcons happen all the time in the comics, as well as in movies and television. It's just a matter of making the retcon believable enough where there are few holes in what you're telling people. As for Wanda apparently having magic this entire time, but the mind stone amplified her powers? I can buy that. Besides, it's an acceptable excuse to make Wanda as powerful as she is in the comics (from what I've been told), so like I said, I'm ok with this.

“I can’t feel you…”: ...That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

“Vision’s” Talk with “Vision”: Forget the horrible CGIed battles. I want more of this!

Now, I put both Visions in quotation marks because while they're both the same character, they're also...not the same. Which is, funnily enough, what this scene is: A philosophical discussion between two versions of the same android about what makes them both/neither the definitive version. One may look the same, and the other may be the same body, but neither "Vision" really is the true Vision. However, the fact that these two stop their fighting so they can have this discussion in the first place helps secure that while different, they are still the same. It's a thought-provoking discussion, and it is ten times more interesting to watch than Wanda and Agatha's CGI fight in the sky. Although it is kind of odd that White-Vision just peaces out the second Hex-Vision gives him a reboot. But hey, that's for the future movies to deal with.

“Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.”: >Deep inhale<...Girl.

Wanda Saying Goodbye to Vision: >DEEPER INHALE< HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY! I did not expect this much emotional turmoil from f**king WANDAVISION!

Joking aside, this is a well-handled scene. It's incredibly emotional to see these two characters say goodbye to each other as their arcs come to a close. "Vision" peacefully leaves knowing who he is in the world, and Wanda can finally start moving on as she gets to say goodbye to her one true love. It's as bittersweet as it is beautiful.

WHAT I DISLIKE

MCU logos flashing in every episode: You know how CinemaSins has this bulls**t excuse about how the MCU opening logo wastes time to get to the good stuff? This is the only instance where that's applicable. Because the opening logo was cool to see again for the first episode, but having it play in every single one after breaks the immersion when trying to binge the series. It's for a couple of seconds, sure, but after a while, it does get pretty annoying.

Elizabeth Olson as Scarlet Witch: Now, to be clear, I have no problems with Elizabeth Olson's acting ability in this series. She juggles being funny, heartbreaking, and threatening so well that I am likely to laugh and cry with her as I am to s**t my pants while in her presence. Elizabeth Olson does a great job with this character. The problem? Well, in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Roma, and Elizabeth Olson...isn't. This means that WandaVision, and the MCU as a whole, has a bad case of white-washing.

I could go on about the issues this brings, but I am not as educated about this subject, and all I know is just stuff that seems like common sense. For instance, I believe it is more than reasonable to hire an actor of a specific race or ethnicity for a character who is of a that same race or ethnicity. But that is as far as my knowledge and personal stance goes, and to expand on it would be too much of a risk because I have no right to criticize the representation of something I am not a part of. So instead, I'm going to point you to @earnestdesire‘s blog and Jessica Reidy’s article on the subject. They do a great job at discussing the issues with Olson’s Wanda and pointing to the issues the MCU has in representing Wanda and Pietro's representation in the comics. And they do it in a far better way than I ever could have. So check them out to truly see why, despite doing a great job, Elizabeth Olson should not be the person donning the suit.

It Was Agatha All Along: AND I STILL F**KING HATE THAT!

I know, I know, I am in the minority on this one. And I still don't understand why! To me, Agatha has all of the problems that Hans has in Frozen. Sure, there are hints if you pay more attention during a few select scenes that are slightly questionable. Like how she refers to Wanda as "the star of the show" or coincidentally shows up with a dog house for Sparky. However, much like how Frozen didn't need a villain like Hans, WandaVision didn't need a comic book villain like Agatha. The story was perfectly passable as a personal conflict involving Wanda's grief where the only obstacle was the director of S.W.O.R.D. and his agents. There is nothing Agatha adds to that.

"But she helps Wanda find out what happens!" Yeah, but Monica could have done the same thing by actually breaking through to Wanda and calmly asking what happened. From then on, they could have worked things out together by having Wanda retrace events that transpired through the information that Monica knows as well.

"But Agatha helps Wanda realize what she's doing is wrong!" So could Vision! He could have shown up, did that mind-meld thing to the townspeople, and Wanda would finally learn what she was doing was wrong through the person she trusts the most.

"But Agatha helps Wanda learn that she's the Scarlet Witch!" Ok...but did that need to happen in this series? Because when you think about it, when the central conflict is all about exploring Wanda's grief, throwing in this narrative about becoming the Scarlet Witch has little to do with anything. Meaning that if you cut it from the story, little would change other than cutting a CGI battle that everyone agrees is the worst part of the series.

The most Agatha adds to the story is a secondary conflict that could easily be cut, and the overall quality would stay the same, if not better. And that is a problem. Agatha needs to add to the central conflict in a way that no other character could have. Like, give her a reason to be involved in Wanda’s life that goes beyond feeding off her magic and leading Wanda to her destiny. Because as is, even if you argue that Agatha is a good twist villain, she's a villain that really didn't need to be here.

Director Haywood: But as much as I don't like Agatha, I think we can all agree that Director Haywood is the worst villain in the MCU. Because one issue that Haywood has is a lack of motivation. For instance, why does he try so hard to write off Wanda as this supervillain? It was never explained, and for something so bizarre and crucial to his character, I feel like it needed to be. It would be passable if he was motivated out of fear and ignorance, but Haywood goes so far as to misedit security footage to prove his point. And I don't get why.

Is he sexist?

Did Wanda not show up at his kid's birthday party?

Did he secretly want to use Vision as a sexbot and didn't want Wanda to get between them?

I don't know, and I'll never know.

Plus, on top of having no motivation, Haywood is just forgettable. Agatha may piss me off to no end, but at least I'll remember her. I honestly forgot Haywood's name half the time, and I'm willing to bet that you did too. Case in point, his name isn't even Haywood. It's Hayward. And in the off chance that you didn't even know about that misspelling just proves my point about how forgettable Hayward is. While it's one thing to be hated, it's another to be forgotten. Because that just means that you left so little impact that you aren't even worth getting upset about.

------

And that is what I thought about WandaVision. If I had to base this off my usual score, I'd have to give the show the same 7/10 that everyone else gave it. Because there's a lot that I love, but the stuff that I hate is so problematic that it takes the WandaVision down on a couple of notches. It's still a fantastic series with a solid story, a great message, incredible acting, and phenomenal character development. It's just that not everyone is going to be willing to tune in as much as you might think.

[weltonreject]

an evening with night.

|| quick study in boris’s pov. ended up being his view of theo’s ptsd while they’re living together in new york, years after Everything. he just wants to help. || ao3

It was seven at night and Boris had hot soup and sandwiches from Theo’s favorite deli tucked under his arm. It was a bit late for dinner, but Boris also knew Theo never ate without him. It wasn’t an agreed upon or even announced rule, just something Boris noticed. Even if Theo did eat without him, when Boris was horrifically late as he sometimes was, Theo would still sit down and pick at Boris’s food, having an echo of his meal.

There was no need to rush, but Boris found he had no patience that day for any sidewalk traffic. He weaved around evening walkers and giggling couples. He ducked around scaffolding over the block before their apartment building. That morning when he’d left, he’d waved up to the workers-- three of them having previously worked for him on a Job. Nice men, all of them. By then though, no one was working. It was dark out and the entire city seemed to be tucking in early.

The lobby was slightly less empty than the street-- somehow-- a few other tenants milling in from outside and heading up to their beds. Boris waved to the two men at the front desk-- and one of them waved him over.

“Mister Decker! Good evening, how are you?” The man-- boy, really-- smiled. His face was covered in hormonal acne and his voice cracked as he incorrectly said Boris’s last name. It was the name all their mail was addressed to because Boris was very tired of things being sent back because dumb Americans couldn’t spell his name. He understood why the boy (Antony perhaps?) called him by Theo’s last name. It also wasn’t really a bad thing. Not at all a bad thing.

“Very good-- have dinner and am very hungry. And you? Busy day? Excitement at all?” Boris liked making small talk. It made people feel good-- and that was also never a bad thing.

"We’re alright, Boris, we’re doing alright.” The other man said before turning and looking at the mail shelves behind him. Jean Paul was Boris’s favorite of the two-- he always laughed at Boris’s jokes and was the first to put Theo at ease whenever they walked into the building together-- which was still something Theo stumbled through uncomfortably. “Got a package for you. Thought I’d give it to Theo when he came by after work but, never showed.”

“Theo is not back from work?” Boris tried to remember if there was a phone chime he had forgotten to answer.

“Never left today.” Antony added, typing something out on the desk computer in front of him. Boris was glad he wasn’t looking at him, he didn’t want the boy to see the moment of confused panic on his face; it could worry him, someone so young.

“Hm. Maybe he is feeling ill today. I will go up and see. Thank you, thank you. Have good night, both of you, yes?” Boris grabbed the package with his free hand and started off for the elevator. Jean Paul and Antony waved as the doors closed over.

It took Boris five minutes just to get a hand free enough to get his keys out-- only to find that the door was unlocked. He slid the package in with his foot as he stepped inside, kicking the door closed.

“Potter?” Boris kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen first. He placed the food down on the counter and poked around to the small dining room. The curtains were still closed by the table, their home shut out from acknowledging the day-- well, night by then. “Potter, where are you? Everything okay?”

Finally, a slow answer. “The couch.”

“Theo!” Boris backed through the kitchen and looked through the cut-out over the sink. He saw Theo slowly propping himself up and turning to find his voice. “Are here! Men downstairs had said you were not at work-- did not see you leave! Did you stay here all day?”

Boris spoke, almost, with a kind of excitement. Not because he wanted Theo to be in a poor mood, but because he was excited to turn it around with the surprise quart of matzo ball soup and sausage and pepper grinder. Theo had never said it was his favorite, but Boris could tell whenever they went to the deli for lunch, he had a certain joy waiting for his food. Boris wanted to hand over the food and see that joy appear suddenly.

Instead though, he saw that Theo was not just feeling poorly. He looked it too. Theo was still wearing what he wore to bed: a ripped, old gray shirt from their Vegas years (it was so old Boris didn’t even know who’s it was by then) and his plain, blue boxers. His hair was poking out in different directions as if he’d been restlessly rolling around all day. Which he probably was. There were crease marks on Theo’s face where he’d been pressed against the pillows for hours. His eyes were on Boris, but they weren’t looking at him.

“Theo, what is wrong? You look very bad.”

“Thanks.” Theo ducked his head. His neck cracked audibly. Boris winced and walked around to the couch.

“Why are you like this? What are you on? Drinking? Take something?” Boris wasn’t sure what was in the house except maybe some Xanax. They had cut out the harder stuff in the past three years. They wanted to see the other live a long time-- which of course meant they both had to stop. Fair was fair. “Who did you buy from?”

“I’m not... I’m not high, Boris.” Theo swatted in front of him, despite Boris not coming into his personal space. “I’m just tired.”

“What has happened?” Boris sat on the edge of the couch. “Potter?”

Theo sighed and closed his eyes. He clenched his jaw, muscles all the way up to his temples tensing. “The construction... It... I heard them this morning.”

“Keep you awake? Oh, I will talk to them then! I know half of the group there. Very understanding men! If I tell them--”

“No.” Theo opened his eyes but he didn’t look up at Boris again. “I heard the construction when I was sleeping and... it woke me up and.. it sounded.” Another sigh. “It sounded like an explosion.”

Boris reached for Theo’s hand, hesitating to counteract Theo’s own involuntary retraction from the touch. After a moment, their two hands slotted together. Theo stared at their fingers, tangling them.

“You are upset. Reminded of... before. Have had long day, yes? All alone, in here? That is long day, very hard on you, Potter. I am sorry mother is gone and ghost of fear will not leave you. Very sorry... But I am here now! Not alone now.” Boris smiled and lowered his head to fit into Theo’s distracted eye-line. “I brought you food, Potter. You need good meal-- and then we take bath! Oh, yes. We sit and relax you and--”

“I’m not hungry.” Theo said curtly. He pulled his hand away from Boris’s and laid back down. He rolled over and faced the back of the couch. “Eat without me.”

“But Theo--”

“I said eat without me. I don’t want any.” Theo’s voice was muffled, He rested a hand over his face, just under his glasses.

“Is your favorite though. Called in before I left to make sure was ready when I got there. Your soup, hot sandwich, both.” Boris shook Theo gently, resting his hands on his waist. “Potter, have to eat with me. I can hear stomach grumbling. Hungry, very hungry.”

“Boris, please, I’m not in the fucking mood today.” He rolled his head back to look at Boris, exposing his red, bleary eyes and tight, pinched expression. “I spent half the morning thinking I was thirteen I don’t want to play house right now, okay!” He shouted.

Boris wasn’t sure if it was the way Theo shoved him-- or the way he felt the unflattering urge to grab Theo and hold him tightly-- but Boris wanted to hit Theo. He felt a hot tension in his bicep as if he could bring his arm back... but he’d never bring it down on him. Oh god never. They weren’t fifteen anymore. They weren’t shoving each other into dark, under-chlorinated swimming pools. They weren’t deprived of touch. Boris could take Theo and hold him, if he wanted. It was just that, if Boris hit him there could be no room for argument. He could try and make Theo feel the warmth of his skin on his without refusal-- without deprivation.

“Sit up.” Boris said, standing back from the couch. “Potter, sit up. Put feet on the ground. Sit up.” Still, Boris did not touch Theo, but he pointed with enough force Theo slowly pushed himself vertical, his bare feet pressing down on the wood floor. “Will not let you sulk-- feel upset? Yes, cannot stop you. But this... this! Doing more harm than good for you. Will feel worse when morning comes and you are still unfed! No shower! Are not drunk orphans no more, Theo. Have house! Have good life. Let it help you.”

It wasn’t screaming if Boris was desperate to help. It wasn’t raising his voice if he was doing it to get Theo to hear over whatever was in his head. He wasn’t like his father if he kept his hands to himself and yelled only the nice things. Boris couldn’t be like his father if he genuinely loved someone. He got that from his mother.

Theo rolled his wrists and looked at Boris, resigned but not unwilling. “What did you get me? A-And you got yourself something too, right?”

“Pfft, Potter. You insult me.”

Boris walked back to the kitchen and grabbed the deli bag. He ripped a fistful of paper towels to take as place settings-- Theo would not let them eat on the coffee table without any cover-- and ducked down to grab a bottle of wine from under the cabinets. Before Boris emerged again in the living room, or met Theo’s eyes through the wall cut-out, he thought of Theo drinking that night. The heavy slosh in Boris’s hand would only amplified with whatever heavy, thick darkness was in Theo. He’d black out again. He’d start screaming and crying. He’d try and climb out the window-- try and find his mother in a cloud of smoke that had dissipated ten years before.

Boris put the bottle back and hurried out to Theo, smiling and hoping to appear aloof.

“Hungry, yes?”

"Kind of starving.” Theo was exhausted enough to agree.

“Good thing you have kept me around, eh? Boris keeps you fed and happy. Good roommate, no?” Boris sat beside Theo on the couch, nudging his side with obnoxious eagerness. “Good man to have around.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” Theo muttered, cracking the smallest but least reluctant smile. “He’s pretty good to have around-- wait, did you get me soup?”

Boris burst out laughing at Theo’s sudden distraction-- he had to. If he didn’t laugh at it, at how much life and focus was missing from Theo’s face as he came back to reality, Boris would surely get upset.

It was usually a strange sadness; not one that most people spoke about in explorations of their darker moments. Seeing Theo so absent and crumpled, Boris’s felt like he fell backwards into a tunnel. Going and going, falling down down down. He sunk, feeling like he was stomping his way down the street after telling his best friend-- without words-- that he needed him to stay, but left abruptly anyway. He felt helpless by his own doing. When Boris felt upset, he felt like he was stranded on that burning hot asphalt all over again, thinking he’d never have to stop running. That he’d just fall over and drop dead first.

"Is okay? It is warm enough?” Boris cupped the container with his hands.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” Theo took the soup and sat back on the couch, resting the warmth against his chest. “It’s fine... Thank you.”

"Of course, of course.” Boris leaned back too. He rested his feet on the edge of the coffee table. Tired, but with no need to take off again.

---

Theo had this very strange habit of only existing at night. Not that he wasn’t active or didn’t do anything in daylight, but the Theo that worked with Hobie was a far different one than the one that trudged home after five o’clock. Every memory Boris had of Theo-- of his Theo-- was in the cool, summer darkness. The harsh grey winter night. Three in the morning when they both had to get up at six for errands and work. There was a safety in night, Boris knew. He also knew there was a danger in it, in having the world beyond the flickering reach of a streetlamp fall away completely.

After eating their dinner, Boris knew they had found the safe kind of evening. The bathroom was dimly lit with the runoff street lights streaming through the window. Theo was sitting in their bathtub, arms draped over the sides. Boris was on the floor beside him, recounting his day-- something he was too busy eating to do earlier.

“I tried coffee place you keep telling me about. Went in and asked for tea way I like-- and actually gave it to me! So hot nice woman put it in two cups and little, uh, neck tie.”

“Collar.” Theo said languidly. “It’s a coffee collar, but same thing.”

“Collar! Yes, cup had collar-- and two shirts! HA!” Boris nudged Theo’s arm. His finger lifted as he laughed. “Then had meeting with Misham-- was fire down on west eight-one. Misham knows people who work fire, a few very impressive antiques may have been too burnt to be saved... Boo-hoo, so sad, yes?”

“Hm.” Theo lifted his finger again. He seemed to be trying to match the steaming bath water in terms of similar states of matter. “Wait, what?”

“Nothing. More surprises for you soon, Potter. Few days time.”

“I think we need to investigate your definition of the word ‘surprise’.” Theo said, turning his head to Boris. He’d kept his glasses on, his tired but attentive eyes finding Boris sharply. “Today it was dinner, last week it was one hundred year old whiskey, a month ago you said you almost bought me an entire new set of dishware because I drunkenly said ours was tacky... Boris, these aren’t surprises, they’re ambushes.”

"Ack, do not know what you are talking about. Are nice things.” Boris shifted and recrossed his ankles. “You are hungry, like to drink-- and made big sale last week! You surprise first with good job-- and do not like dishes we have. All important gifts.”

Theo licked his lips and let his head loll back to center. “You’re crazy. You’re just a spendthrift that’s just a bit too romantic for your own taste.” His fingers lifted once more. Boris finally noticed the motion of his hand was not an echo of the water’s slow waves, but a slow search in the open air.

Boris reached up and let Theo’s fingers bump into his own. Theo wrapped his fingers around one of Boris’s, letting his wrist hang loosely in the air. He’d closed his eyes, the blend of moonlight and neon washing over his face. Theo wasn’t quite ready for sunshine, but Boris would take it. He’d soak it in with Theo, leaning his cheek against the porcelain edge.

“Should talk about your day, Potter.” Boris said. “Is no good to sit on it.”

“Right now I’m sitting on my ass in boiling hot water cooking like a crab.” He laughed.

“Theo.”

"I’m fine. I just... Had a nightmare.” A pause. “While I was awake. No big deal. I have them all the time.” A longer pause. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it... What did I ever do before?”

“Try to kill yourself.” Boris said. Theo looked at him out of the corner of his eye; Boris had forgotten to soften his words. “Not best way to deal, is what I mean.”

"Am I supposed to... cope or something?” Theo pulled the rest of Boris’s hand into his own. “Grieve? What the fuck does that even-- I can’t do that.”

"Have not tried.” Listen, Boris may have had to kick a heroine addiction in the past two years, but he was at least half way alright with the fact his mother was dead and his father was probably the same. Is was what they did to Boris when they were alive that kept him up sometimes.

Death? That was the easy part-- for Boris at least.

“I’m trying.”

“Are not.”

“Boris, I fucking swear--” Theo tightened his grip on Boris’s hand. “I... I am trying-- and don’t say to try harder or so help me God, I’ll dunk your head in this water right now.”

It also seemed Theo also had to laugh at it all. His chuckle sounded like phlegm loose in his lungs, coming up with a hoarse cough and sniffle. His head fell back to the side, looking at Boris. The steam from the water had condensed on the cool, exposed porcelain and was slippery enough to slowly let Theo slip further into the water. His legs were bent and he left himself gently wash away.

“The water’s going to be hot for a while. Want to get in?” Theo’s shoulders were fully submerged.

“No, no. Am fine out here. Had very long day, don’t want to ruin bath with-- ack-- dirt.”

“I didn’t ask you because I wanted you to be clean.” Theo said, his chin touching the surface of the water. “I’m asking because I want you to be a little more naked than you are right now.”

Boris laughed again, full and warm. “Potter, do not use me as distraction.”

“I didn’t say I was.” Theo looked out of only one eye, a smirk lifting his cheeks. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” Theo pulled their hands into the water as he dipped under, just up to his nose. Boris reached and grabbed Theo’s glasses with his other hand, holding them still as Theo slipped out from under them.

“Avoiding what I said does nothing, Potter.” Boris placed the glasses on his own head and rested his chin on the edge of the tub. His right arm was nearly up to his elbow in water, his sleeve soaked. He counted the bubbles from Theo’s slow exhale-- or possible laugh-- as they rose to the surface.

It seemed they were both waiting for Theo to seize upward, startled by the pressure of the bath water; it always snuck up on him when he relaxed into it. Boris pulled Theo’s towel closer with his foot, quietly preparing to have to start talking in circles about things that didn’t really matter in order to distract Theo from screaming and thinking he was going to suffocate, despite how much he was hyperventilating.

Under the water, Theo splayed out Boris’s fingers and rested his hand against his chest. The heel of Theo’s palm pressed against the back of Boris’s hand, cracking parts of his fingers accidentally. It wasn’t frantic or desperate, just firmly intentional. Theo should’ve come up already, Boris thought, but he was testing himself-- not for lung capacity, but some other limit that neither really wanted to acknowledge existed in both of them.

They weren’t invincible, and Boris really hated to admit it. They’d treated their bodies and minds as such when they were young, and now they were scared to acknowledge they damage they’d done-- or left festering for ten years. Seeing the evidence so clearly-- even underwater, gripping his hand-- was like seeing a crack in a ceiling. Growing growing growing, right over his head, unless he did something about it. They’d both die in the rubble.

“Actually, Potter.” Boris said loudly, pulling on Theo’s hand. “In I go. Get back.”

“What?” Theo surfaced and spit out water. He wiped his eyes, squinting in the dark. “Did you say something?”

“Sit back, I am getting in.” Boris started pulling his shirt up over his head, not sparing time to unbutton it.

“Well that was fast.” Theo lowered his knees and sat back. He pulled his hands into the water with a soft splash. “Afraid I’m going to drown in here or something?”

Boris had to laugh, again. He wasn’t sure he was as subtle that time, but Theo’s face remained amused-- unaware of the cathartic numbness. “HA! Yes. Or something, Potter. Something.”

[newagesispage]

                                                                        MAY                 2021

The Rib Page

*****

George Takei is sweatin’ with the oldies. He stars in a fitness app for gay seniors, Bar Belles. It was his April Fool’s day joke.

*****

Fox will bring us Crime Scene Kitchen on May 26 with host Joel McHale.

*****

Joel Hodgson has launched a new kick starter to create a new independent season of MTS3K, The goal is $2mil.

*****

Bob Odenkirk will release: Comedy, comedy, comedy, drama: A Memoir on Jan. 18 2022

*****

Leslie Jones will host the 2021 MTV Awards.

*****

$3 mil was raised for Next for Autism with help from Conan, Kimmel, Charlize, Chris Rock, Jack Black and Sarah Silverman.

*****

Have ya noticed that Gayle King looks great in yellow.

*****

Some people are not too happy that Elon Musk will host SNL on May 8. Miley Cyrus is the musical guest.** Musk tweeted: Let’s find out just how live SNL really is. Cast member Bowen Yang tweeted back, : What the Fuck does this even mean?

*****

Oh Seth Meyers: Every time I see the sea captain on your show, I miss him so much!!

*****

There is a spotlight on Foxconn which made a big splash for Trump at the start of his presidency. The company has done a lot of nothing but still gets tax cuts. Homes were demolished, roads were widened to nowhere and money was spent. Wisconsinites are upset that this big business is just folly and a big glass orb.

*****

Mike Lindell is a kook but he did try to appear to be a good sport on Kimmel.

*****

When will weed be legal on a federal level? When will drug testing for employment be illegal? We hear so much about personal rights with the gun laws and vaccines and masks. What about the right to do what we want with our bodies when we are not at work. Think of the administrative costs that could be saved if we just removed drug testing. Our experience and work ethic should mean more that what we do with our free time. This is not a problem at all companies. There are places in this country where it is near impossible anywhere in your area to get hired without a drug screening. One joint on a random Saturday night could keep someone from a great opportunity. A person in pain who reaches for an edible might miss out on the job that saves their lives.

*****

NASA sent the first flight to another planet. The Mars flight made history with the 30 sec feat.

*****

What? The Menendez brothers are popular again? From the Ramsey case to the Manson murders or Bundy, it all comes back around again.

*****

The Lizzie Borden house just sold for $2mil to Lance Zaal of U. S. Ghost Adventures.

*****

Quarantine and so much television et al proves one thing, the pharmaceutical and insurance companies have way too much $.

*****

Trump told everyone to boycott Coke and is later seen drinking diet Coke.** Trump sent out a statement about how bad the Oscars are. They threw it right back in his face. ** Federal agents have searched Giuliani’s Manhattan apartment. It stems from the 2 year investigation into activities in Ukraine.

*****

X-VP Pence is said to have pressured the Navy to reinstate former Mo. Gov. Eric Greitens. Greitens was accused of tying up, blindfolding, taking explicit photos of and blackmailing a woman.

*****

There is a crisis in schools with the lack of civics and history being taught.

*****

Hulk Hogan was hit with a chorus of Boo’s at his latest event.

*****

The latest sexual harassment news: Matt Gaetz  is being looked into for sex with a minor and sex trafficking.  Bill Barr opened the investigation.** Tom Reed has been accused of sexual misconduct by former lobbyist, Nicolette Davis.** Marilyn Manson has been sued by Game of Thrones, Esme Bianco for sexual abuse.

*****

What is going on with Bank of America? I am hearing from multiple people that often they do not get their statement in the mail. Is this a bad Postal service? Is this bad business practice? How many late fees had to be paid because of this? Not everybody wants to pay their bills online.

*****

Jack Hanna has revealed that he has dementia.

*****

Tiny Tim : King for a day is a new doc I must see. The film contains footage shot from Warhol’s Factory. There are excerpts from Tim’s diary read by Weird Al Yankovic and the story of how Tiny’s friend, Bob Dylan wanted to make a film with him.

*****

Lindsay Lohan’s Father, Michael has been charged with 5 counts patient brokering and 1 count of attempted patient brokering. This is an apparent scam of steering addicts into rehab for cash.

*****

Aaron Sorkin and Paulina Porizkova are dating. Pete Davidson and Phoebe Dynevor are dating.

*****

JB Smoove has a new podcast brought to you by TeamCoco.

*****

Hey.. People working on the new Law and Order: Organized Crime….. TOO MUCH MELONI!!

*****

*****

Zach Avery, actor, was arrested for his participation in a $690 mil Ponzi scheme.

*****

President Biden has restored aid to the Palestinians.

*****

MLB put up a wall in Georgia but the Masters stayed.

*****

Hank Azaria has brought Brockmire to a new podcast.

*****

Tommy Chong isn’t allowed on FB because of his weed posts but they allow an imposter to use his name to sell weed.

Pennsylvania is trying to push thru 14 voter suppression bills.

*****

Joe Manchin. Ugh!!** Marjorie Taylor- Greene has let go of her America First caucus.** Ted Cruz has allegedly used $154, 000 of his campaign funds to buy up copies of his book to boost sales. This is an old trick but still illegal.

*****

For the first time, The Carter Center became involved in a U.S. election. They published videos and live webcasts as well as deploying observers across Georgia.

*****

Most health programs in Uganda, Nigeria and Ethiopia have resumed after Covid.** Tom Vilsack from the Dept. of Agriculture has announced the USDA will provide assistance to 30 million kids.** It is sad to me that we have to entice people to vaccinate. Football games, Church’s and shot for shot in bars?? Really? Saving the lives of others should be enough. WTF?

*****

Alec Baldwin, Alec Mapa and Kelsey Grammer are shopping around a new comedy that ABC decided to pass on.

*****

Chauvin was found guilty.

*****

Days alert: C’mon Ben, calm the fuck down! Don’t prove how out of control you are like everybody thinks. ** Xander is so funny right now.** How many people will Kristen be and how many times can one person melt down?? **Bring Carrie back!! **Jackee’ seemed a bit nervous in the beginning but she is fitting right in. More!

*****

The SAG awards came and went. With the Trial of the Chicago 7 winning best ensemble, Michael Keaton is the first person to be in 3 best casts for SAG’s.** Other winners include Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman, Daniel Kaluuta, Youn Yuh-Jung, Mark Ruffalo, Anya Taylor- Joy, Jason Bateman, Catherine O’Hara, Schitt’s Creek and The Crown.

*****

The Oscars were held on April 25. It was a bit of a yawner and why would a show set themselves up for an awkward end?? There was a commercial from P&G right before the broadcast that stated, “ Widen the screen so we can widen our view.” Nice sentiment.  Mank had so many noms and only 2 wins. People looking their best to me were Leslie Odom Jr., Glenn Close, Riz Ahmed, LaKeith Stanfield, Colman Domingo, John Batiste, Mia Neal, Questlove (gold crocs and a mask!), Desmond Roe, Travon Free, Trish Summerville, Marlee Matlin, The Lucas Brothers, Andra Day, Carey Mulligan, Amanda Seyfried, Nicolette Robinson, Regina King and Margot Robbie. Laura Dern looked like Big Bird, there were just too many feathers. Tiara Thomas had feathers but they looked great.  Angela Bassett had some power sleeves and Tyer Perry looked like a little boy.  Hooray for Emerald Fennell for her win for original screenplay but not sure about the dress. And Viola Davis?? Dana Murray?? Ashley Fox?? Hmm?? Winners seemed to have trouble getting to the stage. They often refused the steps or the walkway and sort of climbed up the side. I did love the intimate setting and it did remind me of the old clips of years before. Sound of metal and Ma Rainey both won. Tyler Perry and for the first time, an organization, the motion picture and television fund, took home the humanitarian award. I was thrilled to see My Octopus Teacher win for Doc. I loved Crip Camp too, that was a hard category.  The acting winners went in all directions.  Many critics complained that the films were real downers . Nomadland won best picture. Michael Moore put it best I think. Of the films this year, he said, “They force you to look backward with 2021 eyes.”

*****

Why the Fuck do we need a militarized police force?

*****

R.I.P. victims of the multiple mass shootings, victims of police shootings, the crush in Israel, Cosette Brown, Midwin Charles, DMX, Paul Ritter, Ethel Gabriel, G. Gordon Liddy, Buddy Peppenschmidt,  Prince Philip, Anne Beatts, Diane Adler, Vartan Gregorian, Monte Hellman, Jim Steinman, Michael Collins, Michael wolf Snyder, Johnny Crawford, Eli Broad and Walter Mondale.

[cabinofimagines]

A Merry Happy Plan (Percy Jackson xS!Reader)

A/N: Wassup I got sick so tomorrow I’ll probably take a break from posting lmaoo I’ll do my best to do all the requests before New year tho, hope you like it! -Danny

Words: 1,676

Warnings: None!

Requests: Not any of those anons but I’d love some sibling shit. Maybe a holiday sibling thing with Percy where the reader isn’t super cheerful around the holidays because her mortal parent died around then and Percy finds his own way to get them into the holiday spirit.

If there’s something everyone knows, is that Percy loves his siblings.

Deeply, unconditionally and out loud. Percy would go to war (again) for any of them anytime if they asked. 

That’s why it hurts him so much to see Y/N suffering during Christmas.

This should be a happy time! To be together as a family, eat your all-time favorite food, watch the best movies ever created... sadly, Y/N can’t have it all.

Her mortal parent died a few years back when she was still a kid. Even though she’s been at camp for a long time, it hurts like it happened yesterday. Don’t get her wrong, she’s happy and all, she loves her brothers and she loves her friends, she wouldn’t change anything... 

Still, she wishes she could’ve had a bit more time with her mortal family. It’s unfair, she never asked for bad things to anyone, she was a good kid. Yet, everything always went wrong.

Percy had a plan, Y/N wasn’t a fan of the festivities, he understood and during the first years, he respected that, gave her space to rebuild her life. Now though, he knows it’s time to help her a little, make her see that things can be good, no need to focus and drown on sad memories when she could be creating new ones.

It was December 23rd, Y/N was snoring lightly on her bed, all her body hidden under the covers. Percy sneaked quietly inside the cabin, he had a big suitcase beside him and a large coat hanging from his arm. He left both things next to the door and walk over to where his sister was sleeping, then pulled down the covers completely with one harsh tug.

“Good morning!”

“Mmph...” Y/N grunted, looking for the blankets blindly, “not now, Percy”

“Yes now,” He insisted, grabbing a handful of the fabric and pulling it away from the bed, “you’re coming with me”

“You know I’m not in the mood,” She replied, still half-asleep.

“That’s exactly why I’m picking you up,” Percy replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, “you’re spending Christmas with me and my family this year”

“What?” She rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe she was hallucinating, “I’m not allowed to leave camp, you know that”

“You are now, at least until New Year,” He smiles, “just came from asking Chiron for permission to take you with me”

Y/N sat up slowly, too confused and sleepy.

“Why?”

“Because you need this,” Percy put a hand on her shoulder, “you need to be with your family right now, not alone.”

“My family?” She frowned.

“Your brother,” He pointed to himself, “and my mom has heard so much about you she can’t wait to actually meet you. Same with Paul, and Estelle is so tiny you’ll love her right away, and I’m sure she’ll love you just as much”

“You don’t have to do this,” Y/N felt a lump in her throat that she was quick to push back.

“Maybe, but I care about you a bit too much to let you have another bad Christmas”

“I don’t even celebrate Christmas, Percy” She rolled her eyes.

“But it’s not because you don’t like it!” He retorted, “Or because of your religion or whatever. No, this is because you've been trapped in this mourning ever since... I just want you to be happy, all the time.”

“What would I even do back at your place?” She questioned nervously, “What if your family doesn’t like me once they get to know me?”

“Don’t be silly, you’re the best!” He chuckled, “Come on, my mom will help us to bake cookies and I’ll show you my favorite Christmas movies, you’ll have fun!”

“I don’t know if I should be having fun during this time of the year,” She shifted uncomfortably, “It’s disrespectful”

“It’s been years, Y/N/N” He held her hand and gave a gentle squeeze, “I’m sure they would’ve wanted to see you enjoying yourself rather than this”

“I...” She pondered the offer, maybe Percy was right. What was the use of moping? Of course she missed her parent, of course she felt like a part of her was missing, but did she really had to go through that pain on her own?

“Can you give me fifteen minutes to get ready?” She asked, “I need to get my stuff...”

“You’re coming?” Percy got up, excitedly walking over to the suitcase by the door.

“I guess, I’ll give it a shot”

“Awesome!” He dragged the suitcase and the coat over to your bed, leaving them beside you, “You can put all your clothes in there and that coat is for when we get out of camp, outside the limits it’s freezing cold so you’re gonna need it”

“You did plan everything, huh?” She chuckles, getting up and walking towards the bathroom.

“I’m taking care of my little sister, that’s all”

After half an hour, Y/N was ready to leave camp. She wished the best for her friends while she was gone, and got inside the car with Percy.

“You came here on your own?”

“Yeah, I got my license, remember?”

“Sometimes I forget how big you really are,” She grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Back off! I don’t wanna crash my mom’s car!”

“Sorry,” She raised her hands in defeat.

The trip was soothing, Percy sang along (pretty badly) to whatever it was on the radio and successfully made his sister laugh. She was terrified to meet his family, but he made a great job keeping her calm.

When they arrived, Percy grabbed her suitcase and waited until she was all wrapped up on her coat.

“Gods! Is it always this cold here?” 

“Every year,” He smiled, “let’s go, the faster you leave the street the better”

“Okay...” She sighed, “guess there’s no use to wait any longer”

“Just breathe, you’ll do fine,” He patted her back lovingly, opening the door for her to enter the building.

The little girl had strong lungs, Y/N could hear her screams from the hall, they were happy though. Like she was playing something that got her quite excited.

“Y/N,” Percy said cheerfully, “meet my family...”

She tried to control the way her hands were shaking and wore the best smile she could muster at the moment.

“Mom! We’re home!”

“She’s here?” Y/N heard a woman’s voice coming from the kitchen, “I’m coming!”

Her first impression of Sally Jackson was: “That’s how a mom should always look like”. She was feisty and had a kind smile, her hair was soft and when she leaned in to give Y/N a hug, she smelled like flowers.

“You’re bigger than I thought,” Sally grinned, “look at you! Percy has a picture of you when you were this tiny,” She lowers her hand to her chest and laughs, “but it looks like that was a long time ago”

“I-Uh,” Y/N looked over to Percy, who only nodded as a way to encourage her, “yeah, I think that picture is from when I was thirteen”

“Oh, hi” Paul Blofis appeared, he was carrying a young baby girl, who had to be Estelle, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N”

The little girl stared at her intently, like it was the most interesting thing she’s ever seen, suddenly, she stretched her arms towards her and whimpers.

“Hey, seems like Estelle was also eager to meet you!” Percy chuckled, walking towards the hall where the bedrooms are, “I’m going to leave your suitcase, make yourself at home”

“Okay,” Y/N had her eyes fixed on the little girl, not sure of what to do.

“You wanna hold her?” Asked Paul.

“I don’t want to upset her...” She hesitated.

“I think she wants you to do that,” He looked over to his daughter, the baby squirming on his arms, trying to get to her, “it’s not hard, I’ll help you”

He then put Estelle on Y/N’s arms, who was drowning in anxiety.

“Am I, uh-Is this?”

“That’s okay,” Paul nodded, “It looks like she’s a big fan”

“Hi,” Y/N smiled nervously, “I’m your brother’s sister...”

“Paul, would you help me back in the kitchen?” Sally put a hand on his husband’s arm and he complied, “Thank you. Is it okay if we leave you with Estelle?”

“Don’t worry, I got it,” The girl smiled, holding her tightly against her chest.

Y/N walked over to the room where she heard some noises and assumed that’s the room she’d be sleeping during those days. When she opened the door, she saw Percy’s room.

“Oh, sorry,” She quickly apologized, “I thought this was the guest room...”

“We don’t have a guest room,” Percy replied in amusement, “you’re staying here in my room”

“Oh,” She stood there for a moment, unsure, “alright...”

“I mean, if that’s okay with you-”

“No, yes it is,” She replied quickly, “uh, your family is nice.”

“They’re kind of your family too, you know?” He smiled shyly.

“That’s nice,” Estelle giggled, playing with Y/N’s hair, “I could get used to that”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” He shrugged, “you don’t bother us. If anything I think that maybe you could make our family more... whole, you know?”

She stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer.

“I’m just glad you feel comfortable here,” Percy added, feeling his sister’s nervousness, “we can turn this into our own tradition”

“Yes,” Y/N grinned, softly caressing Estelle’s hair, “that would be cool... thank you, Percy”

“No problem,” He smiled back.

Sally’s voice came out from the kitchen, announcing it was time to teach the kids how to bake and Percy’s eyes instantly lighted up.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this,” He says excitedly, passing her by to rush to the kitchen.

“I think you may be right,” She whispered, playing with the baby’s hand and smiling to herself, a more confident expression as she walked out of the room.

This would be the best Christmas ever.

[jackjots]

#8 Tourist

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place around  Episode 5 )

Day #8 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

The walk home felt longer than usual. I was still sore and every step reminded me that I was. When I hit the driveway I leaned on my mailbox and took a little break. I shook my head and wiggled my shoulders with a groan, and started to trek my way-too-freaking-long driveway.

 By the time I got home, I was desperately thirsty. I threw everything on the desk and lurched my way into the kitchen. I slammed a cup of water down my throat; leaning on the sink to keep me standing. It was the sweetest water I’d ever had and I took a shuddering breath with water dripping down my chin after I’d gulped it all down.

 I took a long, hot shower and when I got out I realized my keys were still in the door. Sans my car key. My car. I sighed and took the keys out and threw them onto my desk. 

I took more pain meds and drank two more glasses of water standing in just a towel. As I got dressed, I contemplated everything that had happened. The accident, the conversation with Desmond the night before, and even going to vote had all felt like a weird dream. But it wasn’t. 

I sat on my couch with a cup of coffee. The computer’s blank screen stared at me accusingly. I stuck my tongue out at it. I didn’t want to write. In fact, I wanted to go back down to the Dead Cannery. It was an urge I found alien, alarming, but I didn’t know how to fight it. My curiosity had grown so much that it was defying my usual patterns and pushing me to do what I usually only did when I had been secluded for days on end. I wanted to drink a beer, eat one of Quinn’s meals that left me orally confused, and, most importantly, find out more about what was going on. I didn’t know what Truman had done in the meeting she’d held. I didn’t know how the werewolf rumor was affecting the town. 

I had to know.

With my hair clean and brushed and in fresh clothes, even with the double black eyes, I felt better about being around people. I packed a small bag, with layers in case I walked back in the cold and an umbrella as dark clouds sat on the edges of the bright blue sky when I had poked my head out of the door to check the weather. Gone were the days where I’d look at the weather app on my phone. I also packed more pain killers as my headache was much like the clouds and sat on the edges of my temples, and my notebook with a couple of pens. I felt prepared for almost anything, except for what I actually found when I got there. 

The town was a curled fist of fear and anger. I noted the loudest and the angriest were the Irons family, who I knew only in passing, and I knew they worked for Miner Mole. There was someone who looked vaguely familiar yelling about a dinosaur egg, and new flyers up everywhere for a werewolf hunt. There were other faces that if I had been in other town I would’ve guessed were tourists, but I knew they were probably just people who never spent a lot of time in town and now found themselves shouting about werewolves with bulging eyeballs. It was all about the werewolves. 

Worst of all, I found out as his body was taken away, Odie Doty was dead. 

My mind raced as I sat in the shadows of my usual spot within the Dead Canary. I had my notebook open and I was furiously writing down everyone I had seen that wanted to kill the werewolves. 

Desmond brought me a beer. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I know. I didn’t think I would be either.”

“Did you hear they’re going to take ore out of the silver mine?” “Was that what Truman had the vote on?”

He gave a somber nod and went back to the bar. 

I wrote that down, too. 

I then made a list of the names of the alleged victims of the werewolves.

Next to their names I wrote down what I knew about them:

Ryan Reynolds: Running for town council, against Miner Mole, wanted the town to stay the same.

Prism: ??? (I had only met her once,, but I had awkwardly declined a reading and had only seen her in passing after that)

Paul: Attempted murder - outsider, nosey, believes in werewolves.

Odie Doty: Mailman -

I held my pen over the paper. And then I wrote “Read everyone’s mail.” 

He must have read something. That was the only thing I could think of. Largely he came across as a harmless, positive guy. 

His body had been discovered during the day. And as far as I knew, he had died during the day. If werewolves could transform during the day, if werewolves weren’t bothered by silver- I hissed at my own thoughts. I was annoyed that this was all ifs and maybes. If werewolves really existed, was what we knew about them true as well? Or was I just basing it off of stereotypes? If I didn’t know what was real, how did I know if they were really being set up or not? All my evidence was flimsy and fueled by imagination and guilt. Yes, guilt. I had a lot of guilt swimming about in my belly with the beer that I was drinking way too fast. I pushed the glass a bit far so I’d have to reach across the table to grab it.

Quinn came back from a meeting at town hall and announced to the bar that he was no longer serving meat, in order to starve out any potential werewolves, but also that Barney Fletcher (it took me a moment to remember Barney and his egg, of course, the dinosaur egg guy) had died right in front of him. 

“It was horrible.” He said when I inquired further. “He was just bleeding everywhere and kept going on and on about his egg which, and I know eggs, was just a regular ol’ chicken egg. And then he even said “I could’ve told you did it just now” and then he died. It was ridiculous. And so sad.” He added the last part as an afterthought. 

“Are you too upset to cook me something? Whatever you feel like making?” I asked cautiously. 

“Too upset to cook? Who do you think I am. I’m working on some new meatless ideas, you know to starve out the werewolves, so I’ll get you something like that.” He paused and looked me over. “You’re not a werewolf right?” I was slightly taken aback, but then he smiled, and I smiled and laughed awkwardly. I went back to my table and wrote down what Quinn told me. I added Barney’s name to my list. And more question marks. Like Prism, I hardly knew Barney and the only connection he really had was his affection for the bizarre. He was an in your face kind of person and I tended to avoid him. Great, more guilt. I couldn’t just torture myself about avoiding people. When you avoid everyone, there are bound to be people you regret avoiding. Well, most people I avoided. I liked to interact with people in the Dead Canary because it felt safe and there tended to be very little happening, even when people got drunk they just kind of slouched into the wood grain and didn’t really do anything dramatic. Usually. 

I heard the bell ding and looked to see that it was Artemis and Paul. It looked like they were recording their podcast so I made sure to scoot further into the shadows. I looked at what I’d written down. I wondered if any of it would be useful, but I had a feeling they probably had more to tell me than I would to tell them. I didn’t want to talk to them though. Something about the microphone and the inquisitive and hyper energy of Paul, I just couldn’t find the energy to face that. I was a writer, I reminded myself, not a journalist. I didn’t seek out the story, I just made sure it was written down. I observed. That was my job. Unfortunately, I missed most of what they were saying in the midst of my inner struggle about socializing. Typical.

My food came just as they left. Quinn tilted his head to where they had been. “Those two, you know the town got mighty suspicious of them today and how as soon as they got here all this stuff started to happen.”

“So it must be the first time this kind of thing has happened then?”

“Well except for Aubrey and his father, no one else talks about werewolves. Before today that would be, well that would be silly.”

I tried to remember who Aubrey was. “But now it’s not silly?”

“No, because people are dying.”

“Was it the werewolves though?” “Who else could it be? Enjoy.”

Who else could it be was exactly what I was wondering as I stared at the bright green presumably edible contraption sitting on the plate before me.

Who else? 

[vicandsade]

1941-12-12 - Mr. Buller’s Christmas Gifts: (alternate titles: 34 Christmas Gifts for $20, Christmas Shopping for Mr. Buller)

[See additional commentary at The Crazy World of Vic and Sade]

[hear the episode here or here]

We have three familiar Vic & Sade tropes here: 1) an episode whose structure seems to be an excuse for Paul Rhymer to make up a list of hilarious names and addresses; 2) one of Vic’s bosses making an egregious violation of boundaries; and 3) Christmas as a source of social strain. We also have a theme that is less commented, but is something I remember talking about with my grandma when I interviewed her about Vic & Sade: it’s a show from the 1940s, a time when women were relegated to a few traditional roles, but were slowly beginning to challenge them. It’s a show written primarily for an audience of women, who were the ones at home during the day listening. And, while it was written by a man, he seemed to understand so much about what women were experiencing.

If your news feed is even a little feministy, like mine, you may have heard that “Society is finally beginning to notice the issue of mental load, and the very gendered nature of it”. Well, here, all the way back in 1941, we have an episode that is all about the unacknowledged mental load -- or "women’s work,” as it might’ve been called back then. Also known as “lady stuff.”

SADE: Nuisance? It’s a lot more than just a nuisance. It’s a big mean job of work.

VIC: Well, I didn’t know, kiddo.

SADE: No, you never know. That’s the “man” of it.

VIC: Most trivial thing in the world. Handed me a wad of bills and said, “Gook, here’s twenty dollars. Next time the missus goes shoppin’, ask her to pick me up a few Christmas presents and mail them.”

SADE: Oh!

VIC: Well, that’s not much of a chore, is it?

SADE: I hafta pick out a buncha presents, wrap ‘em, address ‘em, mail ‘em, huh?

VIC: Well, I never thought anything about it, Sade. I imagined it was something you could maybe do in five minutes.

Mr. Buller is being really gross, Vic is being dense, and Sade is right to be wrathful. He shows a complete lack of awareness of a) what kinds of things his close relatives might like, b) how much stuff costs, c) how much time and effort and thought and personal knowledge Christmas shopping for this many people takes, d) and WRAPPING, e) and MAILING, f) and how much postage costs... This stuff isn’t trivial. And because Buller is unaware of what the work actually involves, he has not given Sade anywhere near enough information to complete the task well. Sade is supposed to know what to buy everyone based purely on their names and addresses, using her magical female brain, and be able to stretch $20 between 34 people (okay, so that’s about $350 in 2020 dollars, which sounds like a lot, but subtract a chunk for postage and you’re left with about ten bucks a person -- not nothing, but not much). 

But Vic is a good guy. As soon as he sees how mad Sade is, he admits he’s wrong (“Okay. I’m a fathead.”), even though he still doesn’t quite understand why. As Sade asks him pointed questions and he realizes how little he’s thought this through, he begins to see what he’s gotten her into. At the end, they are a perfect team again: Vic volunteers to do the mailing and wrapping, and Sade, her mood improved by the pure ridiculousness of some of the names on Buller’s list, accepts Vic’s suggestion to just buy everyone handkerchiefs. Problem solved.

Also of note: this is apparently the first use of the name Ishigan (Hishigan?) Fishigan from Sishigan Michigan, who will come up frequently later on as a personal friend of Uncle Fletcher’s. 

Transcript

ANNOUNCER: Well sir, it’s early evening as we enter the small house halfway up in the next block now, and here in the living room we find Mr. and Mrs. Victor Gook. Vic has apparently said something to upset his wife, because she’s regarding him wrathfully. Listen.

SADE: Nuisance? It’s a lot more than just a nuisance. It’s a big mean job of work. 

VIC: Well, I didn’t know, kiddo.

SADE: No, you never know. That’s the “man” of it.

VIC: Most trivial thing in the world. Handed me a wad of bills and said, “Gook, here’s twenty dollars. Next time the missus goes shoppin’, ask her to pick me up a few Christmas presents and mail them.”

SADE: Oh!

VIC: Well, that’s not much of a chore, is it?

SADE: I hafta pick out a buncha presents, wrap ‘em, address ‘em, mail ‘em, huh?

VIC: Well, I never thought anything about it, Sade. I imagined it was something you could maybe do in five minutes. 

SADE: Uh, that’s the “man” of it. I bet if somebody give you a bucket of paint and a brush and said “Next time the missus is down on Center Street, ask her to put a coupla coats of green paint on the People’s Bank Buildin’,” you’d take it.

VIC: Oh, hey! A ray of sunshine! Buller wants you to buy yourself a Christmas present. He’ll pay ya for your trouble.

SADE: What kind of a Christmas present?

VIC: Any kind you want, I guess. Take it out of the twenty dollars.

SADE: [disgusted] Oh, Vic.

VIC: Okay. I’m a fathead.

SADE: How many Christmas presents am I supposed to pick out?

VIC: I got a list here in my pocket.

SADE: Well, let’s see it.

VIC: Buller says, “I’m a bachelor, Gook. I don’t know what to buy for people. Think your missus’d help me out?”

SADE: Is that the list?

VIC: Yeah. Uh, “Mr. and Mis’ R.K. Lieferts, 1109 West Kilgore Avenue, Pittsburgh, Ohio.”

SADE: Well, who are Mr. and Mis’ R.K. Lieferts 1109 West Kilgore Avenue Pittsburgh Ohio?

VIC: I dunno.

SADE: Are they Mr. Buller’s cousins or uncles or in-laws or something?

VIC: [sheepish chuckle] I dunno.

SADE: What shall I buy for them?

VIC: Oh, heck.

SADE: How much shall I spend on them?

VIC: Well, have a heart, kiddo.

SADE: Read the next name.

VIC: If I’m to be tortured and made miserable over this, I’m almost tempted to take the job on myself.

SADE: [laughs] You go right ahead.

VIC: It don’t strike me as such a task, walkin’ in a department store and pickin’ up a few odds and ends.

SADE: Don’t it?

VIC: No.

SADE: Read the next name on the list.

VIC: Uh, “Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry, and Edna Gooding, Rural Route 8, Minneapolis, Minnesota.”

SADE: Is that all one family? 

VIC: I s’pose. All got the same last name, Gooding.

SADE: Are they children?

VIC: I dunno.

SADE: Does Mr. Buller want 'em each to have a separate present, or does he want just a single present for the whole outfit?

VIC: I expect you can use your own judgment on that. ‘Cause he says, “Tell the missus she’s a free agent, Gook. Won’t make the slightest difference to me what she picks out.”

SADE: Read off them names again.

VIC:  “Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry, and Edna Gooding.”

SADE: Six cigars, or shall I buy baby rattles?

VIC: Well, I imagine they’re children.

SADE: Do ya? What makes you imagine that?

VIC: They sound like children.

SADE: “Sound like”?

VIC: Oh, seven, maybe?

SADE: Brothers and sisters, you s’pose? 

VIC: Yeah. 

SADE: Six brothers and sisters, all age seven. Boy, there’s an outfit that’s got that Canadian family with their quintuplets backed off the map.

VIC: Send ‘em handkerchiefs. You can’t go wrong on handkerchiefs no matter what their age is.

SADE: Any others on your list?

VIC: Uh, quite a few more.

SADE: Uh.

VIC: “Mr. and Mis’ Margaret Gack, 218 South Union Boulevard, [Humphrey Sidin’], Michigan.”

SADE: Mr. and Mrs. Margaret Gack?

VIC: That’s what Buller’s got jotted down here.

SADE: Is the man’s name Margaret?

VIC: I presume.

SADE: What kind of a Christmas present would you pick out for a Mr. Margaret Gack?

VIC: Handkerchief.

SADE: Handkerchief for Mrs. Margaret Gack too?

VIC: Sure.

SADE: Oh.

VIC: “Miss Olive Soppers, 213,529 North Oak Street, Seattle, Iowa.” [quietly] That can’t be right...

SADE: Miss Olive Soppers lives at 213,529 North Oak Street.

VIC: [chuckles] That can’t be right.

SADE: Her home must be right near the edge of town.

VIC: Buller musta made a mistake.

SADE: When are you gonna see Buller again?

VIC: Sometime in January.

SADE: Oh.

VIC: “Cora, Mildred, Arnold, Alan, and Bertie Feech. Anderson, Wyoming.”

SADE: Brothers and sisters?

VIC: I imagine.

SADE: What age do they sound like?

VIC: Oh, heck, kiddo...

SADE: Twenty-two?

VIC: My handkerchief idea is a solution to this whole business. Everybody uses handkerchiefs.

SADE: Read me some more nice names.

VIC: Uhh, “Reverend Griswold J. Fix...Fix...” Holy smoke. 

SADE: What’s the matter?

VIC: This name. I can’t pronounce it. F, I, X, O, L, M, H, T, H, R, Y. “Fixolmhthry,” I guess.  “Reverend Griswold J. Fixolmhthry.”

SADE: Where does he live? Nineteen million six hundred and eight thousand four hundred and two West Grove Street? 

VIC: Lives at 716 Creeper Boulevard, Yatchman, Texas.

SADE: Suppose he’d like a nice handkerchief?

VIC: Probably be charmed with a nice handkerchief.

SADE: Is that all the people?

VIC: No, uh... “Emmett Chindle, Jr. and Moses.”

SADE: Moses?

VIC: Yeah.

SADE: Who’s Moses?

VIC: Maybe his little boy.

SADE: Or his horse, or his dog, or his butler, or his uncle.

VIC: Well, it was awful sloppy, the way he jotted down these names. 

SADE: Uh.

VIC: “Emmett Chindle, Jr. and Moses, Room 619, Indianapolis, Wisconsin.”

SADE: Room...619, Indianapolis, Wisconsin?

VIC: Yeah.

SADE: That’s some dandy address. 

VIC: Emmett Chindle, Jr. and Moses probably live in some hotel and Buller carelessly forgot to put it down.

SADE: Uh-huh.

VIC: “Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry, and Edna Jackson, Rural Route Ten, Funnel Orchard, Montana.”

SADE: Well, that’s the same outfit you read before.

VIC: Uh-uh.

SADE: Well, sure it is! Look up at the top of your list there.

VIC: Oh, uh...

SADE: Well, I remember those names.

VIC: Oh, no, by George! 

SADE: Sure. Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry...

VIC: Whoa, wait a minute. The people up at the top of the list are named Gooding. And they live in Minnesota. This other gang’s name is Jackson, and they live in Montana.

SADE: Both outfits got the same bunch of first names? 

VIC: Yeah. “Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry, and Edna Gooding. Rural Route 8, Minneapolis, Minnesota.” And down here, “Cyril, May, Eugene, Agnes, Harry, and Edna Jackson. Rural Route 10, Funnel Orchard, Montana.”

SADE: Quite a coincidence.

VIC: Yeah. 

SADE: Any more nice people?

VIC: Uh, “Culvert C. Culvert, Culvert Culvert Company, Culvert Buildin’, 2126 Culvert Street, Culvert, Kentucky.”

SADE: Oh, come now!

VIC: No, that’s down here!

SADE: Let’s see once.

VIC: Hm.  “Culvert C. Culvert, Culvert Culvert Company, Culvert Buildin’, 2126 Culvert Street, Culvert, Kentucky.”

SADE: [gasp] Hey, look at all those names!

VIC: Is quite a few.

SADE: How much money did Mr. Buller give ya?

VIC: Twenty dollars.

SADE: And outta that twenty dollars’ll hafta come postage and everything.

VIC: Well, twenty dollars oughta stretch out okay if you buy handkerchiefs. I should think twenty dollars would last--

[telephone rings]

SADE: Telephone’s ringin’, telephone’s ringin’. I’ll get it.

VIC: Fred and Ruthie.

SADE: Wouldn’t be surprised. Feel like five hundred?

VIC: Sure. “Mr. and Mrs. Joel Eggwalk, Wilkers, South Dakota.”

SADE: Suppose those people are all Mr. Buller’s relations?

VIC: I imagine a good many are.

SADE: [answers phone] Yes? Oh, yes, Fred! Just had an idea it was you. [pause]  No, not a thing in the world. [pause] Why, I bet we’d jump at the chance. [pause] Sure. [pause] All right, Fred, we’ll be lookin’ for ya. [pause] You bet, Fred. You bet. [pause] Goodbye, Fred. [hangs up] He has to pump up a tire. They’ll be here in half an hour or so.

VIC: Uh-huh. Here’s some relations.

SADE: Uh?

VIC: “Glenn, Stover, Helen, Willis, and Farstaw Buller, 560 West Wilk Street, Mexico City, Connecticut.”

SADE: Hm.

VIC: Here’s the last name on the list.

SADE: Hm.

VIC: “Ishigan Fishigan, Sishigan, Michigan.”

SADE: [bursts out laughing] What?

VIC: [laughing] The fella’s name is Fishigan. First name is Ishigan. Lives in a town called Sishigan. It’s in Michigan.

SADE: [laughing] Oh, no!

VIC: [laughing] Yeah! Ishigan Fishigan, Sishigan, Michigan! 

SADE: [laughing] Oh, my stars!

VIC: I’m glad to see your good humor’s restored, Sadie.

SADE: [laughing] Uh-huh. How many names on that list?

VIC: Uh, thirty-four. Can ya...get thirty-four good handkerchiefs for twenty bucks?

SADE: [still laughing] Oh, sure. 

VIC: How much you estimate the postage’ll cost?

SADE: Oh, say five dollars.

VIC: Leaves fifteen dollars for handkerchiefs.

SADE: Uh-huh.

VIC: Well, that’s in the neighborhood of, uh...forty-five cents per handkerchief. Can ya get a pretty good grade handkerchief for forty-five cents?

SADE: Oh, get wonderful handkerchiefs for forty-five cents. 

VIC: I’ll...handle the mailin’ and stuff.

SADE: All right.

VIC: I’ll help ya wrap the packages, too, if you’ll handle the addressin’.

SADE: [chuckles] All right.

VIC: I like to do favors for Buller, because after all, he’s a big shot in the company, and he can--

[telephone rings]

SADE: Telephone’s ringin’, telephone’s ringin’.

VIC: Eh. Good old “Kindly Keep Off The Grass,” “Never Look a Gift Horse In the Mouth,” trustworthy Bluetooth Johnson. 

SADE: Bluetooth is with Rush down at the YMCA. 

VIC: Hm.

SADE: [answers phone] Yes?  [pause] Oh, yes, Fred. [pause] Oh, now, hey! [pause] No, but you’re always treating! [pause] Well, all right. [chuckles] If you wanna throw your lovely spondulix to the four winds. [to VIC] What flavor ice cream ya want?

VIC: Maple.

SADE: Why do you constantly say maple? You appreciate Fred despises maple.

VIC: Tutti frutti.

SADE: He despises tutti frutti also. 

VIC: What don’t he despise?

SADE: Chocolate.

VIC: Okay. Chocolate. 

SADE: [on phone] Fred? [pause] Vic is shoutin’ and screamin’ his head off clamorin’ for chocolate flavor. [pause] Yes. [pause] Yes. [pause] Fine. [pause] All righty, Fred. [pause] Goodbye. [hangs up] “Maple!”

VIC: Well, heck!

SADE: [giggles] How’s that young lady’s address there on Mr. Buller’s list that lives so far out?

VIC: Uh, “Miss Olive Soppers, 213,529 North Oak Street, Seattle, Iowa.”

SADE: [chuckles] And who are the people who live in the room? 

VIC: “Emmett Chindle, Jr. and Moses, Room 619, Indianapolis, Wisconsin.”

SADE: [laughing] And the culvert fella?

VIC: “Culvert C. Culvert, Culvert Culvert Company, Culvert Building, 2126 Culvert Street, Culvert, Kentucky.”

SADE: [laughing] And the man that’s name and address and everything all rhyme?

VIC: “Mr. Ishigan Fishigan of Sishigan, Michigan.”

ANNOUNCER: Which concludes another brief interlude at that small house halfway up in the next block. But be sure to come along when we visit Vic and Sade the next time.

[punkrockpolitix]

Strap in for an Ugly Ride

by Mitch Maley — This week, presumptive Democratic presidential nominee Joe Biden did the most Joe Biden thing left to do in announcing that centrist NeoLiberal Senator Kamala Harris would be his running mate. The establishment left swooned and suburban liberals rejoiced, while the lunatic right clutched their collective pearls at such a “radical” choice. Meanwhile, the rest of us yawned as the stage was set for an absurd, bizarro world, alternative-reality election that will take place in the midst of the most unstable American society in modern history.

The chaos created by the 45th President of the United States has a way of wearing the reasonable mind rather thin. After all, who aside from the angry mobs of nativists does not long for a return to the normalcy of the early aughts when all we had to worry about was forever wars in the Middle East, an infinitely-expanding wealth gap, 50 million Americans without healthcare, and trade policies that had hollowed out the middle class. Sure, the children of white collar elites would continue to thrive (so long as they could avoid pill mills and heroin needles). Meanwhile, the offspring of former factory workers who couldn't afford an increasingly cost-prohibitive college education would toil in Amazon warehouses with few benefits and no shot at the kind of modest defined-benefit pensions that had allowed their parents to enjoy some modicum of prosperity in their twilight years and increasingly gloomier chances of even enjoying the social security payments that have kept millions more from abject poverty once their working days were behind them, but that was certainly a little easier to swallow than 2020 has thus far been.

Sure, automation had already begun eating away at more jobs than even offshoring had, we'd done nothing to address the climate crisis beyond symbolic, feel-good policies that avoided pissing off the wrong special interests, and the only amber waves of economic growth in the past 30 years had been driven by engineered bubbles. So what? Wall Street was happy (the stock market tripled under Obama) even if the big party was being floated by artificially-cheap credit, and besides, we could all go to sleep each night relatively certain that we wouldn't face a zombie apocalypse type situation on any given morning which is more than you can say about our current situation.

But let's not forget where things had gotten by 2016 when populist spasms on both sides of the ideological spectrum saw our traditional two party-driven political process totally upended. Harnessing the power of the internet had been largely responsible for President Obama successfully splintering the Democratic establishment in 2008, but let's not over-romanticize the grass or the roots. Obama was the product of an inter-party schism that saw a large number of career Dems break from the Clinton dynasty and its requirement for complete fealty to the party's grudge-bearing first family.

Obama was not an anomaly. He was Wall Street approved, Bilderberg-blessed and mainstream media anointed because, regardless of what others projected upon him, he was a typical center-right Dem who wouldn't rock any of those boats. Yes, the right labeled him a dangerously-radical liberal, but those who paid attention in the 2008 primary will recall that the actual semi-progressive candidate, Congressman Dennis Kucinich, had to be actively cropped out of the debates in order for that narrative to take hold. After all, it wouldn't do to have Kucinich onstage talking about Medicare for All and explaining how to get out of Iraq tomorrow any more than it would do for Ron Paul to be onstage in Republican debates calling out the NeoCon likes of Mitt Romney and John McCain.

Under Obama, the war machine kept rolling, taxes remained at historic lows, deportations skyrocketed and we expanded warrantless surveillance and other Big Brother police state tactics, including sending "surplus" tanks and other military armament to your local police forces. In other words, most of the things liberals hated most about the Bush era continued only they didn't hate them as much anymore. That said, institutional norms remained in place, our allies were quite happy and Americans, or at least those who weren't driven mad by the thought of someone with brown skin holding the highest public office, could hold their heads high knowing that they had an intelligent and articulate statesman at the helm who wouldn't embarrass them with Bush's tangled English or Clinton's infidelities. He was a family man who loved his wife and children and treated even his most vile-mouthed opponents with the courtesies of polite society. Yes, it's easy to grow nostalgic for such normalcy in the age of Trump.

However, years of bailing out Wall Street banksters who'd crashed the economy, allowing hedge fund managers to pay lower tax rates than teachers and failed companies to hand out huge bonuses often paid for by the taxpayers themselves took its toll. Millions of Americans who'd seen their homes foreclosed upon were scolded for buying into the worthless products being pushed by those same banksters—reverse mortgages, sub-prime interest-only loans, etc.—and lectured about "personal responsibility" and the "moral hazard" of bailing them out, even as those same fat cats who'd been rescued themselves swooped in to buy up all of those empty houses for cheaply-borrowed pennies on the dollars in order to make money hand over fist renting them back to the creditless schmoes who'd been kicked to the curb. It turns out a lot of people were fed up.

Enter Bernie Sanders and Donald J. Trump, two men, as different as can be, who nonetheless each managed to harness enough of the sometimes dangerous power of populist anger to finally upset the apple cart that had been two-party politics. While their platforms were radically different, the essential nature of their messaging was the same: you're getting screwed and have been for a long time. Their message was particularly well-received by working-class whites in formerly industrial states who'd been ignored by both parties for decades, beyond rhetoric from the right about it being the fault of illegal immigrants and rhetoric from the left about educational programs that would retrain the working class for the jobs of tomorrow. Regardless of whether they believed in or even understood the solutions either candidate was offering didn't matter so much as someone at last acknowledging that the reality they'd been experiencing actually existed.

The Clinton machine, with the DNC's foot on the scale and the MSM distorting perception, was able to (barely) keep Sanders at bay. Meanwhile, the GOP may have been able to do the same had it not been for the sheer giddiness of legacy media outlets like WAPO, the New York Times, MSNBC and CNN for what they saw as the death of the modern Republican party should it actually nominate a crass, foul-mouthed blowhard of a third-rate reality TV star (who'd until recently been a Democrat) for President. Make no mistake, Clinton's people desperately wanted to take on Trump, believing it amounted to not only an easy win, but a path toward retaking Congress, despite having been gerrymandered out of contention (for those of you who came to politics late, the GOP's electoral success in 2010, saw them take over a majority of state legislatures just ahead of the once-every-decade reapportionment that follows a census, allowing the party to gerrymander Congressional districts to such a degree that Democrats could not gain ground, despite regularly receiving millions more total Congressional votes than Republicans each cycle).

Everyone inside the beltway was caught sleeping in 2016. The Republican establishment never saw Trump coming and didn't know what to do with him when he arrived. Remember how sad Jeb Bush seemed in the debates? Remember how ineffective Marco Rubio was when he tried to sink to Trump's name calling? By the same token, the Democrats were so tone-deaf as to who Bernie was appealing to (far more aging New Dealers and working-class labor Democrats than the teen radicals they imagined) that they actually thought making trans-bathroom laws a wedge issue would drive turnout for their side. Imagine living in Michigan and working the counter at a Dollar General because the stamping factory you used to work at moved to Mexico, wondering whether your kid's rehab from Oxycodone would finally stick this time while being told that the real fight to be won was about where the gender fluid would take a leak.

That's not to say that trans rights aren't a worthy issue, so much as to point out how out of touch you would have had to have been to think it was a winning one in that moment of time. And if you think there was something more altruistic behind it, ask yourself how much energy has been expanded by the party on the same subject since. Like abortion-related ballot referendums used by Republicans to drive evangelicals to the polls, out-of-touch Beltway Dems thought that identity politics was the path to uniting the left-wing of their party and getting the Bernie crowd to turnout for Hillary, even after the DNC got caught smoothing her path to victory. After all, the donor class Dems never mind looking woke, especially if it prevents them from having to get behind things like a living minimum wage that might actually mean less coins falling into their coffers. And that my friends is what created the relatively small yet curious "I voted for Bernie in the primary and Trump in the general" demographic, not sexism, spite or misogyny.

Fast-forward to 2020 and Bernie is finally poised to emerge as the resistance candidate. Despite the MSM again selling alternative facts that kept explaining away his success, his path to the nomination looked inevitable until the Democratic establishment again intervened, this time with Obama in the role of Clintonesque king maker, convincing moderate establishment favorites Pete Buttiegeg and Amy Klobuchar to take one for the team ahead of Super Tuesday so that a path could be cleared for a sputtering Biden campaign to claim the nomination. For his part, Biden's 40-year record is as right of center as a Democrat can be without going full Joe Lieberman, so the remaining question was how not to repeat 2016 in alienating so much of the left-wing as to ensure Trump another four years.

Then, like a gift from the political gods, Trump began shooting himself in the foot so frequently in his responses to the pandemic and civil unrest that his approval rating—which has never even hit 50 percent even once during his presidency (not surprising considering he won the White House with a smaller share of the vote than either Romney or John Kerry managed in losing)—sunk to a pathetic 35 percent, convincing the NeoLiberal bosses that it was no longer necessary to kiss any rings on the far left. Bernie, Elizabeth Warren and even Tulsi Gabbard and AOC had already bent a knee to Uncle Joe, imploring their supporters to vote blue no matter who, so why not instead go after the moderate Republicans and Bush-era Never Trumpers whose ideology make the Democratic donor class feel much more comfortable than the progressive left’s anyway?

Enter Kamala Harris, who, to the Democratic donor class at least, signals nothing less than a female Barack Obama. And they’re not exactly wrong in that she’s a highly-articulate, ideologically-flexible politician capable of putting a friendly, progressive veneer on the modern NeoLiberal platform. That’s probably why the left-leaning corporate media outlets tried so hard to give her a push in the primary, even though voters simply didn’t find her to be a compelling candidate. Despite a healthy fundraising machine and the focused attention of MSNBC and CNN, Harris didn’t even make it to Iowa, dropping out ahead of what surely would have been a bottom tier finish in her home state of California. In that sense, it’s hard to see what she brings to the ticket in terms of electoral success. Fortunately, she won’t have to deliver her home state, but while much has been made of the fact that she’s the first woman of color to be on a major party ticket, it’s worth noting that there’s little to suggest she’ll help turn out the African American vote as most polls had her fourth of fifth even among black voters, who preferred Biden, Warren and even Sanders over the Senator from California.

As long as we’re on the subject of Harris’s race, however, it’s worth noting that the we're-not-racist right immediately went down the rabbit hole with birther conspiracies disgustingly-similar to those used against Obama that, within moments of the announcement, were used to question her eligibility to ascend to the presidency and fear monger that it was all a plan to install Nancy Pelosi when an aging Biden stepped down soon after being elected. Harris was born in the United States and, furthermore, born to two U.S. citizens. Her eligibility shouldn’t be in question to anyone who’s taken a junior high civics class, yet from what we’ve seen already, I’m sure it won’t be long until someone asks to see her birth certificate.

That said, despite the RNC's painting Harris as the most radical choice possible, her politics are no more progressive than Biden's, as evidenced by the two articles in the Wall Street Journal about Wall Street “breathing a sigh of relief” at her selection. In fact, one of the audition rounds for the veepstakes included hosting a Biden fundraiser and insiders have suggested that it was deep-pocketed Obama donors and not Uncle Joe himself who put her over the top. In Harris, the NeoLiberal establishment has all but cordoned off the progressive wing of the party, perhaps for a decade to come. Like Obama, she allows them to market a progressive package to make affluent suburban liberals feel good without making Wall Street, Big Pharma, Big Tech, or the military industrial complex the least bit nervous. In fact, in a communication to investors, Goldman Sachs essentially said that even if it means the Trump tax cuts go away, the stability and predictability of a Biden administration would be at least as good for the 1 percent's bottom line.

To hear the Trump campaign tell it, however, Biden's selection of Harris is nothing less than a signal that, in his cognitive decline, Sleepy Joe has acquiesced to becoming nothing more than a puppet for far left radicals like Bernie, AOC and the rest of The Squad. In their narrative, if elected, he’d be doing the bidding of Antifa, while doing away with everything from God and religion to guns and even the suburbs, and the dangerously radical Harris is only further proof of that. In one of their weirdest turns yet, the Trump campaign is literally showing clips of what America has become under Trump himself and warning that this is what will happen if Biden is elected and only by reelecting the man that brought it to you in the first place and has failed to end it by uniting the country (or even trying) can you stop our present from becoming our future. When taken literally, it is a message that says the world I brought you is the world my opponent will bring you and the only way you can stop that from happening is by keeping the guy who brought it to you! If that doesn't make sense, congratulations, you're not an imbecile.

However, if you buy the narrative that the radical left has taken over the Democratic Party then I'm sorry to report that such may not be the case. Biden-Harris is literally the most Law & Order ticket I can imagine either party fielding. It’s the guy who brought us the Crime Bill, supported the private prison industrial complex and paved a smooth road for Clarence Thomas paired with the AG who wanted to jail young single mothers whose kids missed too much school, blocked access to DNA evidence of the wrongfully convicted, supported marijuana criminalization and pretty much accumulated the least progressive record any prosecutor could ever hope for. 

So no, Harris's pick wasn't to appease the progressive left. It was a middle finger to them, just like the initial convention lineup which didn't even feature AOC or Andrew Yang, the two stars of that set. Meanwhile, NeoCon warmonger John “life starts at the first heartbeat” Kasich is in primetime, along with Jeb Bush acolyte Anna Navarro. AOC finally got space for a 60-second pre-recorded (read vetted) afternoon spot, and the Yang Gang was able to kick and scream until their candidate was given a low-billing slot as well. In other words, if you don’t see that the progressive left is not only not running the show at the DNC but is all but powerless in the party’s politics, you’re simply not paying attention.

Why are NeoLiberals more interested in Bush-era Republicans than the media rock stars on the left who seemingly hold the future votes of the party in their hands? Simple, there's less of a difference in platforms, which means unlike working with the left, they don't really have to give anything up to court NeoCons. That’s because the age of Trump has seen those Republicans give up on social issues they never actually cared that much about from gay marriage to abortion in exchange for a seat at the table on the issues they do—things like energy policy, deregulation, aggressive foreign policy and, above all, jockeying their snoots into the trough of money that the winning team gets to eat from.

Excited because a Black Lives Matter protester is going to Congress? Slow down, Ace, as the hallowed halls are also about to get their first QAnon member. We've reached peak lunacy under Trump, this much is true, but the wheel has spun back to same old song and dance, remixed for 2020. The American empire is falling apart and one side is offering four more years of the lunatic king, while the other is betting that such a thought will scare voters enough to accept the same brand of politics that brought us that President in the first place. All that remains to be seen in whether Dems finally got the calculus correct. Are progressives so infuriated by life under Trump that they'll vote blue no matter who, or have they picked off enough white suburban Republican women for it not to even matter? We'll find out, though likely not until weeks after November 2, assuming we aren't fighting each other in the streets by then.

Dennis “Mitch” Maley has been a journalist for more than two decades. A former Army Captain, he has a degree in government from Shippensburg University and is the author of several books, which can be found here. 

[blackkudos]

Ananda Lewis

Ananda Lewis (born March 21, 1973) is an American television personality, model and social activist. She was an MTV veejay from the late 1990s until 2001, when she left the network to host her own broadcast syndicated television talk show, The Ananda Lewis Show.

Biography

Early life

Lewis was born on March 21, 1973, in Los Angeles, California. She is of African American and Native American descent, specifically of the Creek and Blackfoot tribes. Her name means "bliss" in Sanskrit. Lewis's mother worked as an account manager for Pacific Bell, and her father as a computer-animation specialist. Her sister, Lakshmi, is a physician. Lewis's parents divorced when Ananda was two years old, and her mother moved with her daughters to San Diego, California, to be near her own mother. Her mother took an extended trip to Europe to escape the pain of her failed marriage, leaving Ananda and Lakshmi with their grandmother. During her absence, which lasted less than a year, Lewis felt abandoned. She states:

It was like she nurtured me and carried me in her womb and then completely left."

Lewis often fought with her mother while growing up and rarely saw her father, who had remarried. Lewis and her grandmother also frequently "locked horns" while she was growing up.

Lewis struggled with a speech impediment, stuttering until she was eight years old. In grade school she earned a reputation for outspokenness; her comments provoked her teachers' ire or, less often, their amusement. In 1981 Lewis entered herself in the Little Miss San Diego Contest, a beauty pageant, and won. During the talent portion of the competition, Lewis performed a dance routine, which she had choreographed herself, to Stevie Wonder and Paul McCartney's ballad "Ebony and Ivory." After her win, Lewis attracted the attention of a talent agent and began working in local theater productions and on television. In fourth grade she enrolled at the San Diego School of Creative and Performance Arts (SCPA), a public magnet school, where she remained for nine years. At the age of thirteen, Lewis began volunteering as a tutor and counselor at a Head Start facility. Lewis was inspired by the work and decided to become a teacher or a psychologist, with the goal of helping young people. However, Lewis's family urged her to follow a more lucrative career path specifically law. She majored in history at Howard University, in Washington, D.C., from which she graduated, cum laude, in 1995.

Personal life

Lewis has credited her mother, grandmother, and sister for providing her with a positive, supportive environment. By her own account, as she grew older she felt increasingly upset by her parents' divorce. In adulthood, Lewis has healed her rifts with both parents. Lewis was a good friend of singer and actress Aaliyah before her accidental death. She has six godchildren. In 2011, Lewis gave birth to a boy, her first child. She currently resides in the San Fernando Valley.

Career

Early career

Throughout college Lewis had volunteered as a mentor with the group Youth at Risk and at the Youth Leadership Institute. She was considering attending graduate school to pursue a master's degree in education when she learned that auditions were going to be held for the job of on-screen host of BET's Teen Summit. She states that the children she was working with that summer were the main ones pushing her to go to the auditions. She states:

The kids said, "You better go audition for that show. You don't have a job, and this job is almost over."

Lewis's audition would be a success and she became the host of Teen Summit. For three seasons she discussed serious issues affecting teenagers for a television audience of several million. The show's topical, debate-driven format enabled Lewis to follow her passion for helping young people, and use her skills she had acquired at the performing-arts school in San Diego. Lewis is known for having the courage to openly discuss taboo subjects without flinching. Her executives knew that this kind of gumption was the right stuff for a live show host," In 1996, on an installment of the show entitled "It Takes a Village," Lewis interviewed then-First Lady Hillary Clinton, whose book with that title had been published earlier in the year. Also in 1996 Teen Summit was nominated for a CableACE Award, and the next year the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) presented Lewis with an Image Award for her work on Black Entertainment Television (BET). Soon afterward the cable network MTV offered Lewis a position as a program host and video jockey. The thought of leaving Teen Summit was painful for her; indeed, several sources quoted her as recalling that she "cried for three weeks" while pondering her choices. In opting to move to MTV, the deciding factor was the possibility of greatly increasing the size of her viewing audience and, therefore, her potential for influencing America's youth.

Lewis hosted and VJed a variety of shows includingTotal Request Live, a daily top ten video-countdown show, and Hot Zone, which offered both music videos and Lewis's interviews of musicians and others. On one notable installment of The Hot Zone, she berated the rapper Q-Tip about the number of scantily clad dancers in one of his videos. In a reference to Lewis's broadcasting savvy, Bob Kusbit, MTV's senior vice president for production, told Douglas Century for the New York Times on November 21, 1999, "In the past our talent was sometimes just pretty people who could read cue cards. But when we brought Ananda to MTV, we decided we were going to do a lot more live television." MTV also called upon Lewis to host other, topical programs, including two MTV forums on violence in schools, which aired after the Columbine High School massacre and several memorial tributes for the singer Aaliyah, who perished in a plane crash in 2001. In 2001 Lewis earned another NAACP Image Award, for her hosting of the MTV special True Life: I Am Driving While Black.

In 1998, Lewis made headlines while at MTV when she announced, that she intended to remain abstinent for at least six months. She states:

I made the decision for selfish reasons, but I'm going public here because I realized I might be able to help other girls, too. I know the kind of drama that being sexually active brings to your life. I felt that if it was good for me to take a break, it might be good for other young girls, too. You see, I think I would be a whole different person if I hadn't had sex so early. Everybody was saying, "Do it!" but nobody ever said, "You don't have to do it". I think hearing that would have made a huge difference in my life.

Also during that period Lewis became a familiar presence at celebrity-attended events in and around New York City. "If you don't recognize the name Ananda Lewis, it may be because you're older than 23, or not a hip-hop star, or not a regular supplicant in the land of the velvet ropes," Century wrote at the height of Lewis's fame. "In the last year, Ms. Lewis has emerged as the hip-hop generation's reigning 'It Girl,' meaning she is not just an MTV personality but a woman whose looks and attitudes have made her perpetually in demand."

Later career

In 2000 People included Lewis on its list of the world's "50 Most Beautiful People." In 2001, Lewis decided to leave MTV in order to start her own talk show. The Ananda Lewis Show debuted on September 10, 2001, after much advance press in which Lewis was compared to Oprah Winfrey, the wildly popular talk-show host long considered to be one of the most powerful women of African American descent in television. Lewis continued to do special presentations for MTV after her show had begun. Lewis's series, which was syndicated by King World Productions, targeted women between the ages of eighteen and thirty-four by addressing such issues as domestic violence and breast cancer; it was billed as an alternative to the sensationalism and provocative offerings of Jerry Springer and Ricki Lake, whose talk shows were then dominating daytime ratings. Lewis's show aired on some WB and NBC stations before being canceled after one season. Her show's producers stated: "We started on a Monday and then there was the World Trade Center bombing the next day, and everything has become a mess since then," Roger King, the chairman and CEO of King World Productions and CBS Enterprises. Lewis then worked briefly for BET.

In 2004 Lewis became the chief correspondent on celebrity subjects for the nationally syndicated, nightly entertainment program The Insider, a spin-off of the popular Entertainment Tonight. In the spring of 2005, she interviewed Paris Hilton, Dylan Ryder, Don Cheadle and Ryan Phillippe (two of the stars of Paul Haggis's ensemble film Crash), and actress Dyan Cannon. Lewis herself has made guest appearances on several sitcoms.

In 2004 Ms. Lewis also appeared on the ABC network's reality show called Celebrity Mole: Yucatán. This reality series won an Emmy for Outstanding Achievement for Enhanced Television.

An avid animal lover, Lewis has served as co-host of the A&E television-network show America's Top Dog and as a spokesperson for the Humane Society. She has been known to frequently introduce her two pet chihuahuas to interviewers. She has also been a spokesperson for Reading Is Fundamental, a nonprofit literacy group.

[glassc0ffin]

Feedback

hee hoo i wrote a tma fic in the form of frankies statement to the institute

words: 2245

warnings: none, except for phil collins and thrown staples

pairing: oc (frankie james)/jonathan sims

[[MORE]]

FRANKIE JAMES:

-That a tape recorder? It's so cute! We've been trying to get one for the station, just so we can say we have one - y'know, to impress the hipsters - but they're well out of my budget. How did you get one?

ARCHIVIST:

I - Uh, it was here when I got the job, it was my predecessor's.

JAMES:

Wow, well, I'm jealous. [GIGGLES] A little tempted for thievery…

ARCHIVIST:

...Right. Would you like to begin your statement?

JAMES:

Oh, yeah, of course.

ARCHIVIST:

Alright. Statement of Frank James, radio DJ at -

JAMES:

Frankie. 

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSE] Frankie James, radio DJ at Tranzishon Rock, London, regarding…?

JAMES:

Uh, a series of...obscene phone calls from an unknown person. 

ARCHIVIST:

Recorded direct from subject by Jonathan Sims, head archivist of The Magnus Institute, 21st of September, 2019. Statement begins.

JAMES:

Ah, so, okay. [SIGHS]

ARCHIVIST:

...Are you alright?

JAMES:

Yeah, I just… [SIGHS] I have a hard time...getting words out. I'm not...articulate.

ARCHIVIST:

Would I be able to help?

JAMES:

How would you? It's in my head.

ARCHIVIST:

[SIGHS] You'd be surprised. [PAUSES] When did it start? The phone calls.

JAMES: 

On my show. I have a radio show at Tranzishon, late nights, 7 till 10, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Towards the end of the show, from 9 till 10, we do a requests hour. Listeners call, or text, or tweet, or send a carrier pigeon, to ask us to play songs. The last one is only if they're fancy.

ARCHIVIST:

[SNORTS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES]

ARCHIVIST:

[PAUSES] Sorry. You were saying?

JAMES:

[LAUGHS FAINTLY, A LITTLE BREATHLESS] Ah, yeah, erm… [AMUSED] I can't quite remember where I was…

ARCHIVIST:

The requests hour?

JAMES:

Yes! Okay, so, er, I was announcing the requests hour, reading out our phone number and the twitter account, and as soon as I had finished reading the phone number, we got a call. I- We've got a small team of techies - well, two - that handle incoming calls, texts, tweets, whatever. One, Paul, looked up from the switchboard at me and put me through to the listener, and I did my usual spiel. Y'know: [RADIO VOICE] You're listening to Frankie at Tranzishon rock, dear listener, what's your request?

[NORMAL VOICE] And they didn't say anything. There was dead air for a couple of seconds, then as I began to say 'Anybody there?' my headphones are blown out by the sudden high volume. The person on the other end must have been right up on the mic, because there was an immense amount of feedback and white noise. I'm sort of thankful for that, 'cause it nearly covered up what they had to say.

[PAUSES] [DEEP BREATH] I... don't want to repeat what they said. Suffice to say, the techies had some lightning speed reaction time when they cut off the line. There was more dead air as I tried to recover from the shock, I think I made a joke about them wanting the number for Babestation instead.

ARCHIVIST:

[LAUGHS]

JAMES:

[PAUSES] [LAUGHS, WEAKLY] Yeah… Ah, so, w-we banned that number so they wouldn't call again, and I ended the show with Pretty Fly (For a White Guy) by The Offspring. Because I cope with bad experiences by burying them with humour. 

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Give it to me, baby. [EVEN QUIETER] Uh huh, uh huh. 

[COUGHS]

Uh. Anyway. I went home, had my day off, and went back into work the next night and tried to forget about what happened. And for the most part, I did. The first 2 hours passed without incident, and then when I announced the requests hour, I joked about the caller the other day. My techies looked at each other nervously as I laughed. I gave them a questioning look, but said nothing. I'd ask them after the show. I read the number and twitter and waited for the requests to roll in. Again, we had another phone call straight away. I said my spiel, and my heart was in my throat as I waited for the caller to speak. I looked at my techies. Sheena, my other tech, shrugged at me. I sighed, about to give them a signal to cut them off and answer someone else when the feedback returned, louder and more harsh this time. I threw my headphones onto the desk in front of me, but I still heard the words spilling out of them.

[SWALLOWS] Y'know that scene in Silence of the Lambs? Where Lecter asks Clarice to repeat what that other inmate had said to her? Y'know - [SOUTHERN AMERICAN ACCENT] 'He said, I can smell your cunt.'

ARCHIVIST:

Good lord.

JAMES:

Yeah. It was a bit like that. There was a lot more...squelching with mine, though. Ugh. The techs cut the call, as I knew they would. I was more than a little pissed off. I started playing a song someone had tweeted and turned off my mic, turning to my techies. I asked them, why didn't you ban them like you said you would last time? Sheena said she did, that she guessed they were using a payphone or something to harass us. Paul tentatively asked if we should inform the police, and I told him to F off. We've had no help from coppers in the past when we had Nazis and TERFs flooding our lines calling us all sorts of shit, why would they help now? Cops avoid gays like the plague unless its for propaganda. So, Paul backed down. 

Before the song ended, I quickly mentioned that maybe we shouldn't take calls anymore, just texts and tweets. I didn't want it to come to that, not really. I ended the show again with a song from a small local band, earning me a shoutout on their twitter. That felt good, at least.

I went home, picking up a 6-pack of Stella on the way. I wanted to make sure I slept that night. As I sat on the tube, a good 20 minute journey to my flat, my phone began to ring. At that moment, it didn't strike me that it shouldn't have been able to get any reception underground, yet there it was, ringing in my hand. I was more annoyed at it interrupting my music, but I answered anyway. It was the same fucking caller. I couldn't hit the 'disconnect' button fast enough. But I still heard what he said. [LAUGHS SHAKILY] At least the guy has some imagination. Never the same thing twice. [VOICE BREAKS, STUTTERING] I looked around the tube to see if anyone would be witnessing my quickly approaching panic attack, and finding no-one in the compartment with me, I broke down. The next 15 minutes passed with a blur, and then I reached my station, tears stopping as fast as they had came. 

I stepped off the tube and started walking in the direction towards my flat, and my phone started ringing again. My breath caught in my chest as I froze on the pavement, phone vibrating away in my pocket. I picked it up, screen lit up and facing toward the ground. Slowly, I turned it up, half shutting my eyes, as if the person on the other end wouldn't be able to see me if I couldn't see the phone. [SIGHS] Stupid. It was my mum's phone number. I answered, talked with her for a little bit - she lives a ways away, I don't get to see her a lot - and said goodnight when I got to my flat. I got blackout and passed out on my couch when I got in. Yeah, I know I'm a lightweight. When I woke up at 12pm, my TV was still on, replaying the DVD menu for Black Christmas - the 1974 version. I guess in my Stella-crazed state I was desperate to watch it again.

The entire day, I left my phone switched off. My boss won't be too pleased with me, especially after 2 shows of mine had very explicit profanity, thanks to our mystery caller, but I didn't care. 

[PAUSES]

Listen, I-I know, alright? I know it sounds stupid, I know I probably sound like a pearl-clutching housewife, how scandalous that I'm terrified of a few dirty phonecalls, but...you didn't hear them. You wouldn't want to hear them. Paul, Sheena, and I certainly didn't. At least they only heard them at the station…

Thankfully, on the Friday, we had decided not to do requests hour. Yeah, a few listeners would be upset, but the more loyal listeners would understand when one person ruins it for everyone else. We just settled for the last hour of the show to be requests from Paul and Sheena. Strangely enlightening, but I don't wish to hear any more Phil Collins than is necessary. And with Paul, he seems to think 10 songs is necessary. It isn't.

ARCHIVIST:

[OFFENDED] What's wrong with Phil Collins?

JAMES:

Apart from the fact that we're a punk rock station?

ARCHIVIST:

Fair enough. You were saying?

JAMES:

Okay, so, ah… I was on my way home again, and had all but forgotten the mystery caller. We'd figured it had just been some weirdo that got bored of us cutting him off. But as I was walking from the tube station from my flat, I heard that ear-splitting feedback again. Doubling over in pain, I reached up to pull my headphones off, only to find that I had left them at the radio station. I pressed my fists to my ears, crumpling to the ground as the whine of someone being too close to a microphone pierced my eardrums. I felt something cold trickle out of my ear. I didn't have to check my hand to guess that it was blood. I hyperventilated as I lay on the ground. Something was shouting, screaming at me, screeching slurs and threats of what it wanted to do to me, what it will do to me. I remember vomiting, and then blacking out as the overlapping cacophony reached a fever pitch.

I woke up not too far from where I had passed out, £10 and a phone lighter. It was probably some homeless guy who took them, and honestly, I'm not too bothered. I'm more angry no-one took me to a doctor or something. I think, the last thing I saw before I passed out was someone standing in the distance. Staring. Yeah, it could have been some rando, but the image stuck with me.

They were silhouetted against the bright signs of the takeaways on the street behind them, hands stretching too far down, a little too tall. I might have been delusional or in the throes of oxygen deprivation or something, but I swear I saw it smile as I lost consciousness. 

I haven't been back to my flat. I've been staying with Sheena for the past couple of days. She's alright, but I can tell she wants me out. She doesn't want what's happening to me to happen to her. 

ARCHIVIST:

Statement ends. ...Are you alright?

JAMES:

[SNIFFS] Er, I - Uh, I should be, in a bit. Thanks for, uh...I don't know. Listening?

ARCHIVIST:

It's my job. 

JAMES:

Is that it then? What happens now?

ARCHIVIST:

We'll get in contact with you if we find anything out.

JAMES:

Oh! Then, you'll probably need this then. [SCRIBBLING]

ARCHIVIST:

[SHOCKED NOISE] Wh- What are you doing?

JAMES:

Giving you my phone number, what's it look like?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, I'm sure you can give it to me on paper, not my hand! And didn't you say your phone was stolen?

JAMES:

[SCRIBBLING STOPS] Oh. Yeah. Well, if I ever get it back, then. You know where to call.

ARCHIVIST:

R-Right. Goodbye, Mr. James.

JAMES:

Frankie.

ARCHIVIST:

...Goodbye, Frankie.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST:

Mr. James -- Frankie's behaviour was certainly... strange during our conversation. He kept looking at me, pausing and then quickly looking away again, having to restart his sentence whenever he did so. Maybe he realised that he had virtually no evidence to back up his testimony. The only witnesses we have are this Sheena and Paul, and they can only back up the instances of the phone calls happening at the radio station, not anywhere else. Conveniently, Frankie does not appear to record his mobile phone calls, so we have no evidence the phone call on the tube happened. Assuming it even could happen.

Furthermore, his constant stuttering only made me think he was making the whole thing up. Maybe he just wants a story for his show. He --

TIM:

Knock, knock. Was that Frankie James?

ARCHIVIST:

Yes, i-it was -- Tim, saying 'Knock, knock' is not a good substitute for knocking. 

TIM:

Did I hear you saying that he was making it up because he was stuttering?

ARCHIVIST:

Well, yes. It's a common tell for lying.

TIM:

It's a common tell for a huge goddamn crush.

ARCHIVIST:

What?

TIM:

Oh, come on. You didn't notice?

ARCHIVIST:

No, n-no, I didn't.

TIM:

Jon, he was the colour of a tomato. He wrote his phone number on your hand! Look, he even drew a heart, for god's sake.

ARCHIVIST:

[MUTTERING] Hmm, yes, I suppose it does look like a heart… No, don't be ridiculous, Tim.

TIM:

[IN A SING-SONG VOICE] Jon has got a boyfriend, Jon has got a boyfriend!

ARCHIVIST:

Are you twelve?! Get out! [SOMETHING CLATTERS ON THE GROUND]

TIM:

Ow! Stop throwing staples at me!

[CRASHING SOUND]

[CLICK]