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theitgirlnetwork · 6 months

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Chapter 8: Future Stuff

Note: Hellooo! Thank you all once again so much for all of the love I'm getting on this story. Everyone is so sweet I could actually throw up so thank you. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. All of the reblogs, notes, comments, messages really motivate me, and I'm so thankful. It's so fun writing this. The only warnings are implied sexual content and strong language but MDNI fr fr. This story is not for the children. Alsooo, I think I figured out the tag list situation, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. So its down below, anyone else who would like to be added, please let me know <3

Taglist:

@th3h0nkz @yezzyyae@comeonatmebruh

Ian and Mickey stare forward at the TV as Lip continues to bounce his leg and blow a cloud of smoke into the air. Mickey irritably fans the air in front of him, cutting his eyes to Ian who silently pleads to him not to say anything. A few more seconds pass and the cheap couch continues to rattle and Mickey gets fed up.

“Fuck! Gallagher, go, don’t go, cheat, don’t cheat, we don’t fuckin’ care!” He yells, ignoring Ian’s glare. “I mean, I’ll fuckin’ tell the princess in a heartbeat, but you sittin’ hear, shittin’ your pants over a phone call is makin’ me wanna kill you.”

“Fuck off Mickey.”

Mickey turns to the blond, only to have his boyfriend place his hand on his chest, shoving him lightly into the other direction, gesturing for him to go upstairs. Ian huffs as Mickey flicks him off before storming up the steps to his room, taking his beer with him.

The redhead sits back down next to his brother, sighing as he opens his own drink. “Are you gonna?”

Lip looks up, hand buried in his hair for probably the fiftieth time that night. “Gonna what?”

“Cheat. On Charlotte with that old bitch Helene.”

Lip shakes his head quietly, taking a drag from his blunt before passing it over to Ian. “No.” he sniffs. “And uh, Helene didn’t get me kicked out, alright?”

“Okay.” Ian shrugs, grabbing the blunt. “But she didn’t help.”

“Nah.” Lip nods, blue eyes surrounded by red, bloodshot from the lack of sleep he got over the past few days. “She didn’t. But uh, she didn’t say much on the phone. Just that she needs to talk to me. Figured I should see what it’s about. Not a big deal.”

“Is that why you’re pullin’ your hair out and hotboxin’ our living room?” Ian asks, releasing the smoke from his nose. “Did you tell her?”

“No.” Lip sighs, scrubbing his hand down his face. He reaches over and snatches the blunt from Ian before he could take another pull. “And you won’t either, alright? It’s not a big deal and I’m just gonna tell her to fuck off. Don’t need to freak Bunny out for nothin’.”

Lip had been lamenting over Helene’s call for the past few days.He’d gone silent on the phone in shock when she confirmed it was her and was even more surprised when she asked to meet with him to discuss something. The last time he’d talked to her, she’d ended things and ignored him while he screamed and pleaded for her back outside of her house. It was fucking humiliating. He wanted to show her he was better now. He wanted to show he wasn’t some desperate loser and he didn’t fucking need her, her leaving didn’t fucking faze him.

He knew he could do that and stay loyal to Charlotte.

But apparently Ian and Mickey had no faith in him. He didn’t know why he fucking told them in the first place.

Maybe because he’d hoped it would help get rid of the rock in his stomach he felt every time he spoke to Charlotte and didn’t tell her his sort’ve ex/professor had hit him up to meet.

Lip is used to the feeling of guilt and shame, it comes with the Gallagher territory. A low hum of those two feelings stay with them always. But this feeling was worse. It was loud and aggressive. It was pounding in his ears each time his girlfriend’s sweet voice came through the phone. So, he already felt like shit. He doesn’t need Ian and his cling-on fucking riding him.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s for nothin’ Seems like somethin’ she should know.” Ian shrugs, snatching it back.

“Yeah, just because you’re Mickey’s bitch, doesn’t mean I’m Charlotte’s. Alright? I’ve got it-”

“Fuck you.” Ian frowns, shoving his brother, looking affronted when he shoves him back.

The two boys begin pushing and shoving at each other, standing from the couch to get into each other’s faces. Voices raising and carrying throughout the house. The front door swings open and a tired Fiona storms through, Liam in her arms, shoving between the two of them. “Uh uh, I just worked for 8 hours with no break while tryin’ to watch Liam. I do not come home to you fighting.”

The older girl places Liam on the steps, patting his back and telling him to go upstairs and wait for her to tuck him in. She turns back to her other brothers, watching them glare at each other. “What the fuck is the issue?” Lip clenches his jaw irritably, looking away from his sister. He knows that Ian isn’t going to say anything and he does not feel like hearing Fiona bitch about Helene or make some smart ass comment about him already fucking up with Charlotte. “Fuck, fine, whatever. I don’t care what you have going on, Christmas is in two days, you’re not gonna fuck up the vibe in the house for Carl, Debbie and Liam. And make sure you have your shit together on the gift front.”

Ian pushes past Lip, knocking his shoulder and heading toward the stairs, “I’ve got my shit covered.”

Fiona watches him go up the stairs before looking back to Lip with an expectant expression. “And you?”

The blond huffs out a breath, “I’m handling it.”

And at the time, he really thought he was.

“It was really nice to see her.” Charlotte smiles, pouring water onto one of the plants on her parent’s patio before moving on to the next. The other side of the line is quiet and she pauses in her motion, pushing her phone closer to her ear. “Bub?”

“Huh?” there’s shuffling on the other end of the line for a few moments before the sound of her boyfriend returns. “That’s good, bunny.”

The woman rolls her eyes, setting down the watering can onto the table and pulling out a seat to sit in. “You’re not listening, Phillip.”

“Yeah I am.”

“Yeah? What’d I say.”

He hums for a moment before raising his voice lightly, attempting to mimic hers. “Phillip, I miss you so much, I can’t wait until I can see you again and climb on top of your big, hard-”

“Yeah, I don’t talk like that. That must be your other girlfriend.” She laughs. Charlotte waits to hear the deep chuckle that she’s grown to love and is only met with awkward silence. “Phillip?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ve actually got to go.”

“Oh.” Charlotte frowns, biting at her thumbnail nervously. She doesn’t like the sound of his voice. He’d been being weird for the last couple of days and she didn’t know where it was coming from. Was it because of that one phone call? Was it too much? Too little? Did she do something wrong? The reasonable side of her told her that the distance might be just getting to him. Their relationship had started with her leaving for an undetermined amount of time. They began with a goodbye, it definitely was wearing on her, it would be reasonable for it to be affecting Lip as well. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later? And um, please remember to get the presents I got for everyone out of my room at V’s okay? S’not much-”

“Okay, so uh, you’re definitely not gonna be back for Christmas?” he asks.

Charlotte sighs, leaning her chin on her hand and toying with the fabric of her shirt. “I dunno. M’sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’ll call you later. Bye, baby.”

As the line goes dead Charlotte groans to herself. As much as she’s enjoyed being home with her parents, she was starting to get antsy. Putting aside how badly she misses Lip, she misses everyone else and her freedom too. Being back in her parents home made her feel like a child again, unable to make decisions about anything. What time to wake up, what to eat, what to wear. She needs a break from her break.

And honestly, she wants the chance to take her new relationship seriously. And she can’t do that while they’re however any miles apart.

Settled into her new resolve, Charlotte pushes out of her seat and opens the screen door to her house. She looks around the lower level, finding that no one is there and heads up the stairs to look for her mother. She finds her mother in the office and knocks on the heavy wooden door before entering. “Hi, Mom.”

Charlotte’s mother looks up from her laptop, pausing to push her glasses up on her nose. “Hi, honey, what’s up?”

“Um,” Charlotte shifts on her feet uneasily, running a finger along the paint on the door frame. “I need to talk to you about something.”

Lip takes a deep breath as he stands outside of the café, pocketing his phone as he weighs out the different ways this scenario can play out in his head.

Best case scenario, he goes in there, Helene looks fuckin’ awful, he tells her where she can shove it and maybe throws in a picture of his new sexy ass girlfriend that he’s fucking obsessed with, conveniently leaving out that he’s unsure if she’s ever coming back to Chicago.

Worst case scenario, she looks amazing, he doesn’t even get to mention Charlotte and this was some kind of sick test that he failed by showing up. His girlfriend emerges from some back room or something and dumps him on the spot for even showing up to talk to his ex. And she…he doesn’t know, starts fucking Helene’s husband or something.

That last part can’t happen. Lip is pretty sure he’d kill him.

Another minute passes by before he decides to finally go into the shop. Quiet, boring cafe music is softly playing and the smell of coffee fills his nostrils.

“Lip, over here.” a voice calls over to him.

Lip follows the voice over to a table in the left corner of the restaurant and finds Helene, seated, already sipping a coffee, an untouched mug on the opposite side of the table. He makes his way over and slowly slides into the seat opposite of her. “Uh, hey.”

The older woman offers him a kind smile, drumming her fingers on her cup. Lip absently notices that her wedding ring is not on her finger. “Hi. How are you?”

He looks up, dragging his eyes away from her hand. “Fine, I uh, can’t complain. How have you been?”

“Overall I’ve been well.” Lip nods quietly at her response and starts scanning the room, looking everywhere but her. He hadn’t accounted for this being so weird. A couple beats pass before she speaks again. “Okay, well I think we’re a little too familiar for this to be so uncomfortable. That coffee is for you by the way. It’s black with no sugar the way you like it.”

“Actually,” Lip cuts in, glancing down at the cup. “I don’t take it like that anymore. I, uh, like it sweeter now.”

Helene’s eyebrows shoot up, “Oh. Okay, we could send it back-”

“Nah, I’ll drink it.” He shrugs, trying to hide his grimace as the bitter liquid fills his mouth, briefly wondering how he used to chug this shit when he was with her.

“Okay.” Helene shifts in her seat a little, leaning forward. “Tell me what else has changed since we last spoke.”

Lip licks his lips, looking around before letting his blue eyes land back on her. “I uh, left school, or they kicked me out for something…unrelated. So yeah, I’m working. Moved back to Southside.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“It helps pay bills. Nothing in my field but, it works.” he shrugs again. “Are you, uh back at the school?”

Helene smoothes her left hand over her hair, and his eyes drift back to her empty ring finger. “Yes, I’ve returned as an adjunct, but they’re keeping a close watch on me so you can understand that’s a little bit awkward. But um, I’ve been working through some things since the last time I spoke to you-”

“Right, that was a contingency for you to get your job back, right? The therapy?” Lip bites. He doesn’t know where the comment comes from but he shocks himself and Helene.

“Yes…it was. And I think I owe you an apology.” she says softly.

Lip sits up straighter in his seat. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I should have spoken to you, and allowed you to explain what happened. I requested for you to communicate and exhibit maturity throughout our relationship and didn’t extend the same respect to you.” Helene waits for Lip to react, to accept, say something, but all he offers her is another quiet nod. “I’ve learned I have a habit of having high expectations for what people should do for me and very low tolerance for error. It’s likely what caused this relationship to fail and certainly what ruined my marriage.”

The blond looks up at that, immediately alerted by the news she’d snuck into the conversation. She’s divorced. She’d gotten divorced. Despite the fact that he was refusing to acknowledge it, back when they were together he used to dream about it. The day she said fuck her husband and left him completely, chose him entirely. On darker days when he would watch her climb out of bed to go find her spouse, or see them kiss especially intimately in front of him, or she would leave to shower with him just after she and Lip had sex, he would think about how happy he’d be if the older man just disappeared. Went missing. Dropped dead, he didn’t fucking care.

But the knowledge now that Helene was single brought Lip no feeling at all. He’s shocked at how numb he is to the news. “I’m uh, sorry.” he offers awkwardly.

“I’ve made my peace with it. Now, I’m trying to make my peace with you.” she smiles, placing her hand on top of Lip’s across the table, smoothing her thumb on his knuckles.

“Oh, shit-” he jolts, taking his hand back and feeling himself turn red as the table rattles at his jerky movement. “I actually have a girlfriend. And we’re…monogamous.”

“Oh.” Helene sits back, seemingly startled by his very large reaction before adjusting herself. “I’m sorry, well congratulations. Who is it? That mousy girl who is fascinated with posting pictures of other people’s naked forms?”

Lip doesn’t bother offering her a fake laugh, instead choosing to open his phone and show her his favorite picture of him and Charlotte together. It’s one that Ian had taken at the Alibi when Lip had been pretending to teach her how to play pool to both get close to her and piss off Kev as the girl bent over the table in front of him. The picture perfectly captures Charlotte’s pretty smile and reminds him of when she was close enough to touch. He holds his phone up for Helene to see and watches the woman’s expression. “This is Charlotte.”

Her face is unmoving as she looks at the girl. “Well, I suppose it’s double congratulations. She’s gorgeous. Is she in school?”

“Um,” Lip takes the phone back and pockets it, “No, she just moved here. She’s working at a restaurant for now, saving up money. I’d have brought her with me but she’s visiting family back where she’s from.”

“And where’s that?”

“Virginia.”

Helene hums, lifting her coffee to take a sip. “That’s far.”

“772 miles.” Lip sniffs, leaning back in his chair. “But she’ll be back.” As he says it his brain wonders if he’s telling Helene or reminding himself.

“I see. And it’s serious?”

That question gives Lip pause. Because is it serious? He can acknowledge that when he first saw Charlotte he hadn’t hoped for much more than getting her prissy ass into bed and then doubling back once in a while, but not frequently enough for her to get attached. Her stubbornness and Mandy’s existence put a little wrench in his plans but he’d always liked a challenge. But after a while, it was more than that. He’d fucked around and learned things about her. Charlotte is sweet, kind, and funny. She makes him relax and feel less fucking irritated all of the time. She makes him feel needed without making him feel trapped. She cared about his interests, making him happy. His family. She’d made his life better in such a short period of time.

“To me.”

Helene nods, offering him a soft smile. “I can tell. It’s the look in your eyes. It’s different now. A good different.” she lets out a sigh and places her cup down again. “Well, I’m happy for you. Though I came here to tell you I miss you and apologize, I also wanted to make up for the part I played in your education ending early.”

“It was unrelated.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t help.” It’s good that she knows that, he thinks. “I want to offer you an internship, not with me, but with a research center I collaborate with. They were looking for someone with an interest and background in science and technology and I immediately thought of you.”

“You didn’t think of one of the hundreds of people majoring in that at the university?” Lip scoffs.

“I didn’t used to sleep with them.” she jokes, rolling her eyes when Lip appears unamused. “I’m kidding. I truly believe you’d be a good fit for this.”

“Look um, like I told Youens, I can’t really afford to work for free right now, I understand you guys say it’ll lead to something-”

“It’s a paid internship, Lip.” Helene cuts in. She observes the young man, watching as the wheels turn in his brain as he tries to think up more excuses as to why he can’t accept this opportunity. She grabs her purse from where it is hanging on the back of her chair and pulls out a card, placing it down on the table. “Look, I have another meeting to get to, but this is a really good opportunity, if I were you I’d take it. Work in your field and make some decent money. Serious relationships aren’t as free as we’d like them to be, you know.” she says, nodding her head toward the pocket where he’d placed his phone. Helene stands, walking past, briefly placing her hand on Lip’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’d only have to see me around sometimes, we’d be in different departments.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” He says, grabbing the card.

“Good. Give my regards to Charlotte will you?”

Lip sits quietly as the older woman leaves the cafe, attempting to process what just happened. He looks down at the card one more time before shoving it in his pocket and standing to leave himself, mumbling under his breath, “‘Give my regards’ to my fuckin’ girlfriend. Like hell I will.”

“Okay, Liam, open this one next.”

Lip stands with his arm around Fiona as they watch Debbie help Liam open her present with a bright smile on her face. It’s tradition in the Gallagher household. For the whole month of December, the older three kids hide all of their money that they earn, same as usual, and put it toward the rent and bills. They work extra shifts at their jobs so that Carl and Debbie don’t have to chip in for the month, that way they can get each other and Liam presents. The older three also use anything they have left over to get each younger kid an additional gift. Finally, being the two older siblings they are, sometimes Fiona and Lip scrape together a little something extra to try and get something for Ian. This year, Mickey was here.

At first Lip had found the male Milkovich’s damn near constant presence in their home irritating, but he made Ian happy, and more stable so he tolerated it. As more time went by, Mickey became part of their routine, helping out, hanging out, pitching in money, and then Lip didn’t mind him. But now, watching the fucking thug who’d threatened to bash both his and Ian’s faces in not long ago for one reason or another roll his eyes and pretend to be in different as he offers a messily wrapped army knife to Lip’s younger brother, blushing as Ian pulls him into a brief kiss, Lip thinks he might not hate having him around. Maybe even likes it.

“Who wants eggnog?” V calls as she carries the pitcher into the room, balancing a stack of empty cups in her other hand.

“Me!” Carl calls trying to snatch a cup, groaning when the woman pulls it away.

“Sorry, who’s grown and wants spiked eggnog?”

“Fuckin’ me.” Lip grunts, pouring a glass full and taking a long swig. He’d been in a shit mood all day. Watching his younger siblings open their gifts made him feel a little better, but he’d been hoping that Charlotte would be home by now. It’d been weeks since she’d left and he was starting (had been the whole fucking time) to worry that she wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t imagine that the short time they’d gotten together before she left was all he was gonna get. But then again, that was just his luck.

Fiona’s eyes land on V, a small smile on her face as she widens her eyes in silent communication. Her friend rolls her own in response, nodding exasperated, and nudges Kev. “Huh? Oh.” the man leans down and takes Liam from Debbie and lifts the boy’s bottom to his nose, sniffing his nose. “Um…Lip, man, I think Liam took a shit.”

The blond’s brows furrow as he takes another sip of eggnog. “So change him?”

“He’s uh, not my brother.”

“Oh, for christ sake,” Fiona snatches Liam back, smiling at the little boy’s giggle and shoving him into Lip’s arms. “Go change him will you?”

Lip narrows his eyes at his sister before sighing out a ‘whatever’ and taking the boy, blowing raspberries against Liam’s cheek as he makes his way to the steps.

As they get to Liam, Carl and Ian’s room Lip starts undoing Liam’s diaper, holding the clean one under his arm. “You having a good Christmas buddy? Huh? Is it fun? Should we play in the snow later?”

“Lip!” the boy claps, kicking his legs, antsy.

Lip frowns in confusion as he finds a completely empty and clean diaper as he looks down at his brother. “The hell? What’re they talkin’ about? I knew you didn’t stink to me. Maybe it’s Kev, huh?” he coos, buttoning his brother back up. “Maybe he’s the one who took the shit.”

The blond fumbles around in his pocket and pulls out his phone, figuring hearing his girlfriend’s voice might put him in a better mood. “Should we call Charlotte? We miss her, don’t we buddy.”

“Lottie!” Liam screams, kicking more, giggling loudly.

“Alright alright, keep your pants on, she’s my girlfriend, kid.” He jokes, dialing her number. The phone rings once before going to voicemail. “And I guess she’s busy. That’s okay, buddy, she’s probably just enjoying Christmas with her parents.” Lip reassures, unsure if it’s for Liam or himself. He grows even more irritated at the painful ache that forms in his chest at the thought that he won’t be hearing from her at all today. He’d called twice earlier too, only to be sent to voicemail twice.

Hoisting the little boy up, Lip jogs back down the stairs, bouncing his brother as he goes, slowing to a halt when he enters the room and everyone seems like they just rushed back to their seat. “Why the fuck are you all being so weird? And he didn’t shit.” He says placing his little brother into Carl’s arms and going to sit again.

“Wait!” Fiona calls out, fighting back a grin. “Don’t sit down, you have to get your present now.”

“The fuck? You got me a present? Why? We could’ve used that on one of the kids-” Guilt floods him as he thinks about the fact that he hadn’t gotten Fiona anything.

“Will you stop being such a prick and go get your present? We left it in the kitchen.” Ian interrupts, kicking at Lip’s leg. “Go.”

“What would you even get me-” Lip pauses as a thought crosses his mind. But no. No, that’s not it. It’s no fuckin’ way. He lets his eyes trail over to V who offers him a small shrug before nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen. “No fuckin’ way.”

Lip all but sprints into the kitchen, ignoring his family’s laughter when he trips a little over the leg of the coffee table and again on one of Liam’s singing toys as he swings into the room.

“Hi, boyfriend.”

And there she is. In the flesh. Bouncing excitedly on her feet once, twice before squealing and jumping into Lip’s arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Lip catches her easily, wrapping his own arms around her waist and squeezing tightly as he buries his face in her neck, inhaling her scent. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? Charlotte, what the fuck?”

“Merry Christmas.” she chirps, putting her legs down and pulling back slightly, Lip follows suit, holding his arms around her loosely but refusing to fully let go.

“Yeah it fuckin’ is.” he breathes, tugging her forward into a kiss. He feels like his eyes could fucking roll back in his head. It feels so good. Touching her. Feeling her touch him. Kissing her soft lips. When he finally lets her up for air he leans his forehead against hers, matching her smile with his own. “Merry Christmas, Bunny. Uh, thanks for coming back.”

“What?” the girl scoffs, reaching up and tugging the hair at the back of his head lightly, “Are you joking? I had to.” she leans forward, rubbing her nose against his. “You’re here.”

“Fuckin’ missed you, baby.” Lip connects their lips again, hand cupping her cheek to guide her into a deeper kiss as he walks them until her lower back hits the counter.

“Alright, lovebirds, enough of that, I only promised Fiona I’d give you two minutes, it’s been five and a quarter.” Kev calls from the other room.

Lip pulls back again, letting Charlotte walk ahead of him as he rests his hands on her shoulders following not far behind as they re-enter the room. He watches as she greets all of his siblings, hugging Debbie tightly and kissing Carl on the cheek. Tickling Liam and placing him on her lap as she leans into an embrace from Ian before Mickey reaches over and pinches her cheek.

She’s back. She’s actually back. Lip didn’t realize how little hope he’d had that she’d come back to him until she’d actually done it. She was here, in his living room, with his family. With him. And the room feels like it has oxygen in it again. He only lets the thought of how scary it is that he feels like he’s breathing for the first time in weeks pass through the front of his head for a moment, though it still rings pretty loudly as he pushes it to his subconscious.

Hours later the two older Gallagher siblings are cleaning up after the holiday mess. Charlotte had offered to help the younger kids to get ready for bed while Ian and Mickey went to spend some time with Mandy so she wasn’t by herself on Christmas. Kev and V returned home after being over all day, Charlotte promising to spend all day the next day with them, and them giving in with very minimal complaint when she and Lip asserted that they’d be spending the night together.

Fiona eyes her brother as she scrubs a dish clean, watching as he continuously looks over his shoulder up the stairs. “Just go. I’ve got it.”

“Huh?”

“Go be with her, I can handle clean up, if anything you’re slowing me down, checkin’ every two seconds to see if she’s comin’ down.” She laughs, wiping hair out of her face with her forearm.

Lip chuckles too, putting down the drying towel and squeezing his sister;s shoulder. “Thanks, Fi.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t be loud, I don’t need any of the littles gettin’ traumatized on Christmas.” She says, placing a clean plate on the rack. Fiona turns to catch her brother before he heads up the steps. “Hey, she’s a good one. And this…this looks good on you so…don’t Gallagher it up.”

Lip pauses, thinking back to the card in his jacket pocket and the call he’d made earlier that morning. “I won’t.”

Charlotte turns as the door to Lip’s room creaks open, a wide smile spreading across her face as her boyfriend enters the room. “Hi.” she whispers.

“Hey.” he repeats back softly, closing the door quietly so as to not stir his younger siblings. Lip glances down on the floor at the discarded clothes and mess, and tries to kick it aside as he makes his way over to where Charlotte is standing. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Neither can I, if it was up to my dad I would’ve never come back out here, but Mom took my side.” she meets him the rest of the way, wrapping her arms around his neck as he pulls her in by her waist. “Missed you. But, it was good to see them. Any updates here?”

Lip has to force himself to look away from her big, brown, expectant eyes. He absently thinks to himself that he’d forgotten how hard it is to be a piece of shit when she’s aiming her soft, affectionate looks at him, as if he was something good. But despite the fact that this surprise was literally all that he’d wished for, he hadn’t had time to prepare to tell Charlotte about Helene or the job. He could already picture the doubt that would form on her face as he told her that he’d be working in somewhat proximity to his professor that he’d fucked for several months, convinced himself he was in love with, and briefly attempted to stalk. He can’t even picture admitting to her he’d gone to get coffee with her.

But the alternative isn’t much better. Having Charlotte look up at him with that wide-eyed, starry look, rose petal lips smiling brightly at him. Showing him that fuckin’ dimple. And all of that being fake? Lying to her face? He couldn’t imagine being able to sleep, sure he can lie on the phone, but holding her afterward is a whole different ball game.

So Lip chose the only intelligent option.

Half stories and fuckin’ deny, deny, deny.

“I uh, got a new job, a paid internship. I’ll get to work in science which is cool.” he says dismissively, moving down to kiss her when she stops him.

“What?” she squeaks, smile spreading even wider. “Phillip! That’s so great! M’so happy for you, bubba!” she says bouncing where she stands and clapping her hands together. “We have to celebrate! We…we should go out some night this week. Like, get dinner or go to a bar or…” Charlotte pauses, the look on her face changing.

“Or…?”

The woman leans forward then, kissing Lip’s nose, cheek, and jaw before dragging her way to his neck. Lip groans, mumbling a ‘fuck’ under his breath as Charlotte presses open mouthed kisses down his neck, tugging aside the collar of his shirt as she moves to the top of his chest, rubbing her hands along his abs.

It feels good. So good, her soft hands pushing his shirt out of the way. Her lips dragging along his skin. He was immediately hard, clenching his jaw in focus as he watches his sweet girl drop to her knees in front of him, looking up at him through her long dark lashes as she began to pull his belt from its buckle.

Lip’s dreamed of this shit. Hell, he came to this thought for almost all of the nights she’d been gone.

But there’s this fucking nagging thought in his brain. Fucking telling him over and over how he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve his beautiful, sexy, kind, loving girlfriend. He doesn’t deserve her using her money she saved from her job to take him to the fucking Chicago Sciene Institute Museum. He doesn’t deserve her begging her parents to let her come back to this shithole so they can give their relationship a real try. He doesn’t deserve the way she looks at him.

He damn sure does not deserve to have his dick that he used to put where the fuck ever in her mouth.

“Baby, baby, wait-fuck-” he hisses as her hand pauses as it wraps around him in his boxers. “Shit, um, I don’t think we should do this right now.”

Charlotte immediately retracts her hand from him, placing them both in her lap as she sits on the floor looking at him. “Oh. Okay, did I hurt you…or like…do something you didn’t like?”

“No, no you’re” Lip joins her on the ground, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing her palms repeatedly. “Perfect. You’re perfect. It’s me, I’m just…” he hesitates, wracking his brain for an excuse and also cursing himself for quite literally talking his way out of getting his dick wet. “Don’t wanna traumatize the kids on Christmas you know? Plus uh, we should probably wait for a time Carl isn’t home. Did you know he has a crush on you?”

Releasing a nervous breath Charlotte relaxes again, giggling. “Oh yeah, I kinda got that when I was walking up the street one day and he tried to get me to ride on the handlebars of his bike. He tried to push up on his tip toes and whisper ‘wait for me, baby girl’ in my ear.”

Lip chuckles, moving to sit on his butt slowly, silently willing his erection to go down and leaving his arms open for Charlotte to sit in his lap. “He’s a Gallagher, it comes with charm.” he pokes the dimple in her cheek, jolting her in his lap lightly when she snorts. “What you don’t think so?”

“Please, Ian and Liam are carrying the family name on their god damned backs.” she jokes, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Mm and Fiona, she’s got game too. Pretty sexy.”

“Yeah? You think my sister’s hot, why don’t you go downstairs and sit on her lap, huh?”

Charlotte turns a little to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “You think she’ll let me?”

Lip’s mouth falls open for a moment before he lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief. “Fuckin’ brat, okay, up you go.” he grabs Charlotte at her middle, pushing off of the floor and putting her over his shoulder before dropping her softly on to the bed, climbing over her and pinning her to it. “Went to Virginia and lost your fuckin’ mind. It’s funny?” he says lowly at her giggles, leaning down closer to her face. “You know what’s funny, Bunny? I still have your Christmas gift.”

Brown eyes go wide and immediately Charlotte is giggling out apologies. “Wait, wait, stop, m’sorryyy.” she hiccups as she continues to laugh, Lip’s fingers tickling her sides. “I want my gift!”

“Ask your girlfriend.” Lip jokes.

“She’s busy-” she whimpers, yelping when he intensifies his fingers movements. “You’re my boyfriend! Sorry! Please!” she laughs, kicking her legs. “Pleaseee” she pouts up at him between unhinged squeals and laughter.

Lip stares down at the beautiful girl beneath him and can’t help put give her what she asks. Placing his hand loosely around her neck, he pulls her up to meet him halfway, pressing their lips together in a deep, brief kiss. “Need to remember who you belong to, brat.”

He grunts as he pushes off of the bed and goes to his larger dresser, easily pushing the heavy furniture slightly away from the wall and opening what looked to be a small door to a non-functioning vent. Charlotte sits up on the bed, brows furrowing as she watches her boyfriend pull a huge jar from the opening in the wall behind his dresser, miscellaneous pieces of money, change and what appeared to be checks at the bottom. The jar wasn’t very full, only making it to the first little ridge at the bottom of the jar. As he moves closer, a serious look on his face, Charlotte immediately begins shaking her head. “Phillip you better not be trying to give me money.”

Lip places the jar on the floor in front of her before taking a deep breath and sitting next to her on the bed. “No, I’m not. Or, not really. You remember how my family has the Squirrel Fund that we hide from Frank, so we can pay our bills and eat and shit.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says softly, eyeing the jar. “I told you before I left that I think I should kick some money in if I’m gonna sleep over.”

“Yeah, over my dead fuckin’ body.” He dismisses. “This is…uh, shit this is embarrassing. I didn’t think about that part, it’s fuckin’ stupid.”

Charlotte watches as her beautiful boyfriend turns a pretty shade of pink as he stares at the floor. She slides her arm under his, intertwining their fingers and grinning when he brings his always intense blue eyes up to her face. “Go ahead, bub, I’m not laughing.”

“Shit, fuck it, okay.” he sighs. “This is the Bunny Bank.”

Charlotte’s mouth opens and closes again as she struggles to follow. “Bunny like me, Bunny?”

“Uh, yeah. I um, started to set aside money to put in this jar I fuckin’ found when you started talking to me again after that Mandy shit because, I dunno, you said we’d start hanging out and I started thinkin’ I wanted to take you to nice places. You deserve to go to nice places.”

“You,” Charlotte tilts her head to look at him better. “You started saving money to take me on dates when I was still friendzoning you?”

“Yeah?” Lip shrugs, laughing to himself softly. “I knew that I was gonna keep trying and I guess I wanted to be ready when it started working. But uh, you beat me to the first date thing, huh?” he says, smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“You deserve to go to nice places too.” she says in a small voice, leaning into his hand.

“Well, I started putting more in there over time, and uh, you know, one day I’m gonna fill it. And we can use it on dates. Or get you a nice gift like I dunno, a purse or somethin. Or we could…” Lip looks at her intently, scanning her face. “We could save it. Put it toward, you know, future stuff.”

He damn near cringes as he waits for her to pull away. Lip fully expects for Charlotte to recoil away from him, for her to wake up the second he mentions the future and remember that she’s way too fucking good for him. Hell, he’s never even thought beyond fucking a girl for a couple months outside of Karen, and even then, what he felt was nothing like this. She was like a toxic friend that he was sexually attracted to. And even with her he didn’t plan. She was satisfied with a couple of free beers and a quick fuck in the bathroom at the school. Lip knows that shit isn’t good enough for Charlotte. And he’s learned in his time with her that he wouldn’t want her to settle for that.

He wants to be able to provide things for her, beyond a decent date once every couple of months. That’s why he started the pseudo bank and that’s why he has to lie to her so he can take this job. It’s for her.

But he knows this is fast. Just because he can see a future with her and his feelings hit him like a fucking truck doesn’t mean she feels this way. She has a nice home away from here. She’s accustomed to nice things and guys who don’t have to take a chunk of their check and save it up to give them to her months later. She should know that she can do better, laugh at his pathetic attempt at romance and walk away. Tell him she’s not some chick from the hood he can impress with a free popsicle, his quick wit and good looks.

Lip is fully prepared to backtrack what he said, saying that any mention he made of the future was a fucking joke and distracting her by eating her out or something. But he doesn’t get the chance.

He watches in awe as Charlotte reaches down her own shirt, digging in her own bra and producing what appeared to be two twenty dollar bills, folded up and warm from her skin. Manicured hands drop the money into the jar before the girl places her hand back in his, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Charlotte nudges Lip’s arm with her own, and looks at him as if he fucking hung the moon and stars. “I like the last thing. Let’s save it. For future stuff.”

Lip doesn’t even get a chance to stop it. He doesn’t know if it's the confirmation that she sees a future with him too, now matter how long that is. Or maybe it’s the pretty way she’s staring up at him or him still reeling from the fact that she’s here. Or the fact that his pretty little prissy thing literally just produced forty dollars from her bra for them to save as a couple. Hell, he thinks it's probably all of it. But it comes out like fuckin word vomit.

“I love you.”

#oc #fiona gallagher #ian gallagher #kevin ball #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x oc #lip gallagher x reader #shameless #veronica fisher #gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #charlotte fisher #phillip gallagher

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nanomooselet · 3 months

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My Brother's Keeper (IV)

In Vash's defence, he's not being a hypocrite - he's been consistently stubborn on this point from first to last. He's at least tried to accept and forgive every single one of the other antagonists, albeit with varying success. He's not about to give up on the one who happens to be his only remaining family.

Just like he won't give up on Wolfwood.

I can't abandon anyone who's in a tight spot. That includes you.

Is it for the orphanage?

Thank you. For everything.

This is the final reason that Knives chose so well. Nick himself is a victim, and a hostage. (An innocent man.) If Vash wants the children he protects freed, the easiest way is give himself up without a fight or trying to flee, because it means Wolfwood himself will be saved too - freed by the completion of his contract. I strongly doubt Wolfwood ever told Vash that exists, but it's reasonable Vash inferred that something like it is going on. So even as he's being escorted to face everything he's feared all this time, Vash forgives Wolfwood the "betrayal" with the gentleness of drying a child's tears - since it's for a reason he empathises with (remember Wolfwood's more like Vash than Knives, Knives is just the role he plays). Vash thanks Wolfwood simply for being there.

Why wouldn't he? Vash would never pass judgement upon anyone for protecting those they love when he's the reason they're endangered in the first place. (And every time I remember Vash believes this, I want to punt Knives into the sun.)

Vash is truly glad and grateful for the hope that Nick gave him. For a little while, he got to know what it's like to have a brother he has no reason to be afraid of. Wolfwood, in his pissy, snappish, endlessly-complaining and threatening-with-death sort of way, has faith in Vash and his abilities. Not to mention Vash's ideals, his dream of a better world, started taking hold in Wolfwood as soon as they got to know each other. Wolfwood would much rather live in the world that Vash fights so hard to build than die in the one to which Knives has condemned them all.

He let Vash talk him into trying to save Livio; he, Vash and the little lady did wind up saving Hopeland. He didn't shoot back at the man Vash allowed to shoot him. People are willing to change, even here, even now, even in spite of everything at stake. (Really, "here, now, in spite of everything" might very well be the best time, place and reason.)

Of course Vash is grateful to Wolfwood! Of course he looks at him with such sweet, unbearable fondness. Nick vindicated his trust by trying to change, and thus upheld Vash's longest-held, most dearly treasured conviction, the one Knives has spent all this time trying to shatter. (Let's have faith in humans.)

In short, along with guide and protector and hostage, Nick made for some superlative bait. That's the part I think was accidental.

Vash could have made it to July without him (since that gives Legato no excuse) but for the added incentive, you absolutely cannot do any better than this surly, scruffy, teary-eyed sockless dweeb in sunglasses who tries so hard to be cool. His brotherly love comes in a form Vash craves with all his heart as much as he grieves the love of his mother, his contract made Vash's surrender seem a win-win, and Nick's openness to change makes saving Nai look possible. It's a genuinely clever lure to capture someone like Vash. I'm surprised Knives managed to construct it.

Well, I'm maybe not affording him enough credit. He's had the time and resources to plan.

But Vash knew it was a trap all along. He knew going in. He knew hearing the piano play in Jeneora Rock. He knew all those years ago, in the Plant carrier that became July, when Knives told him he had a hundred years to wait before the coming of a new world. That's why it took a hundred and forty-five years - because Knives wanted Vash to be there, and Vash wouldn't be unless Knives dragged him.

You know, I believe Vash chose to return for himself. Right there in the rubble of Jeneora Rock. He decided it was his responsibility, and Vash's sense of responsibility (in contrast to Knives refusing any) is perhaps his very strongest character trait, running even deeper than his compassion. He takes it to a fault, if anything. He also assumes all blame.

I think because of that, truthfully Wolfwood was redundant. He turned up three days too late to do the job he was supposed to do. He, personally, is fortunate to be the one to meet Vash in person, but that's all. A single stroke of luck in all the fear and pain.

Because he's not a protector. Nor is he a guide. He isn't even a babysitter or a big brother now that Livio's gone. Vash didn't need any of those things, and never did. He really is far tougher than he seems - if anything "tough" is selling him short. Vash might actually be an impossibility. He might be unbreakable. He's a miracle.

And by comparison, Wolfwood's nothing. He's just some random undeserving asshole that Vash chose to save because that's what Vash does.

And that's what I think Wolfwood believes too. What's he even supposed to choose now that he finally has a choice? What was all this even for, without Livio?

How does he go on?

(Part I)

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part V)

(Part VI)

(Part VII)

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #millions knives #nicholas d. wolfwood #vash the stampede #trigun meta #you know i think wolfwood would look good in magenta eyeshadow. with a little gold #he really does have kind eyes #dear god it's becoming even longer #and more ideas are popping up #what the fuck did nightow put in his work that even adaptations do this??#meta: my brother's keeper

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anonymouschishiyaimaginesandmore · 9 months

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The Adventures of Dilf!Chishiya Intro

Minors, do not read! Contains mentions of smutty behavior!

MASTERLIST (up-to-date)

This is the Intro to the Dilf!Chishiya One Shot Series

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters or original stories, only the plot of this fanfic. Alice in Borderland/Imawa no Kuni no Alice characters and original storyline belong to Haro Aso, who made the Manga the Series is based on.

Trigger Warning: Questionable Behavior from a 43 year old man Summery: Its an Intro, dunno what else to say

Chishiya Shuntaro was 24 years old when he slept with a woman who he now calls his wife. At least legally. Because beside that, there is nothing between those people who only shared one night together and shit if Chishiya could turn back time and go back to this day, he would slap the hell out of his younger self, who for some reason got hella drunk that night and forgot to wrap it before he tapped it.

Too bad. The product of that fateful mistake is now 18 years old and aside from slutting around her school, dumb as fuck and sucking out the money straight from his wallet. And Chishiya?

He is now 43 and hates the two females living in his house, banging idiots like them under his roof and throwing money out of the window like they earned it and didn’t just rely on him and his good running career as a well-known and famous Surgeon.

Chishiya hated them with all his guts. His wife used the growing glob in her belly to get his father to, pretty much force him into a marriage he never wanted because, no son of his is going to dishonor him and make a bastard and in his fathers eyes, it was time for Chishiya to settle down anyway, why not doing it with the daughter of a good celebrated IT company who had the best reputation in all Tokyo?

Chishiya could name at least 5 reasons why, but the truth is, if he wouldn’t have married that gold digger of a woman and named her crotch goblin with his last name, life would have become a hassle anyway.

His father would have withdrawn all financial support and Chishiya knew without that, this fateful night would have sucked him dry of all income for at least the next 18 years anyway, so why not making it official?

The dyed blond man never planned to stay faithful anyway. Having his little side affairs here and there. At least he kept it securely under the blanket, not like his “Wife” that banging guys all over the city, telling them her sob story of how mean her husband is and cold and unloving.

No wonder that half her jewelry are gifts from random man who fell for her trap long enough to spend themselves stupid. Chishiya didn’t care. He let the people around him talk behind his back, tho they did it terribly obvious and lived his live in a fucked up suburban townhouse Street, where every building looked like the next one and everyone smiled with their perfectly 3mm moaned front yard, their 2 and a half private school children and of course the pool and the grill in the back. Always running and serving grilled cheese and nowadays vegan burger options on sunny days during Neighborhood parties.

Chishiya hated it. He hated all of it and he hated the always smiling man of every family more who he had nothing in common with, beside the stupid house he couldn’t stand and the fact that none of them knew when to pull out in time.

Until one sunny day, he set down next to one of this man circles, hearing what those monkeys had to say about growing up and their yearning taste for something fresh. He was there, but not really listened and that’s when Chishiya realized something.

Something that had skipped his mind for years, since all children in this neighborhood seemed to be almost the same age, but now grew up into more than that.

His neighbor’s daughters, stepdaughters, goddaughters, whatever and nieces. They all grew up right under his eyes and while Chishiya never saw them as anything else as annoying little barbies, screaming and tossing balls over his fence and shattering another window, all of these girls, all of them…they were now right in front of him, giggling their 18 years old asses off in way too tight bikinis and short shorts and oh don’t forget the tiny skirts.

Damn, Chishiya started to love these tiny skirts. They were his new favorite, especially when the wearing darling dropped something and had to lean down to get it.

Oh yeah, Chishiya realized that day, that his live wasn’t over as he thought so. In fact, a new season of summer just begun and the way it looked from his point of view, it carried many shades of possible fun Chishiya couldn’t wait to take a bite of. Or maybe two? Three? Who knows.

Chishiya believed for years that this kind of buffet has closed for him forever, so imagine his surprise and wide eyes as it opened with all it had to offer. How should he say no to all those new and sweet looking options?

Fuck Vegan food, Chishiya thought, licking his lips and spreading his legs just a little wider as one of the girls made her way towards him, with swinging hips and an innocent smile that contrasted hardly with her choice of clothing.

“Mister Chishiya” she addressed him and the man who suddenly loved his neighborhood more then anything hummed a low “Hm?” as a response that made the girl only smile wider, biting her lower lip as she leaned forward onto his sitting figure.

Her cleavage pretty much pressed itself into his view, but Chishiya didn’t minded it.

“You look a little…thirsty.”

With an outstretched hand she offered the blond male who was double her age her glass of Coca Cola, which Chishiya took gladly, tho he didn’t like the sweet beverage much, but how could he say no when it was delivered to him so willing? Chishiya thanked the young doll in front of him for her eager friendliness and took a sip.

“If there is something else I can help you with…” the girl said, swinging her body from left to right and winking delicious “Let me know ya?” Chishiya saw the playfulness in her eyes. The luscious want paired with sparking lust that only a blooming flower like her at the peak of her age could deliver. Coaxing him with her bright eyes and the long lashes and who knows what if he dared to scroll his eyes lower. A young perfect flower indeed. Ready to be picked and blossom between his legs in all her glory.

The way she stood there. So naïve with no idea what good and arousing things the world had to offer. She probably got a glimpse here and there, but Chishiya wasn’t some hormonal cockdriven teen. He could show her so much more and by the look of it, the girl would welcome all his advice.

Yeah, Chishiya though to himself, leaning back in his seat and following the beauty walking back in her parent’s direction, but not before flashing him another one of her electrifying smiles, sending shivers down his spine and exciting him in ways he thought wasn’t possible anymore.

Fuck veganism, today he was going to get some real meat and by the alluring look of it, he would love it to the bone with all his skills and desire. A charming thought.

Summer is finally here. And it looks fantastic.

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nofomogirl · 9 months

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Implications of Metatron's offer

Good Omens S2 Spoilers, obviously

It took me a while to realize because of all the angst, but Metatron's offer is actually quite a lore bomb. There were some other hints this season but I think his words were most... well, telling.

I am talking about the Fall.

Until now, I can't say I had a clear headcanon about how falling actually worked, but if pressed I'd say it was something that happened on its own when specific circumstances were met. By the will of God, obviously, but without her active participation in every single instant. Sort of the automatic metaphysical process. Your holiness drops below a certain level - you fall.

I can tell I am not the only one because I vividly remember essays popping up after Season 1, discussing in detail why Crowley fell and why Aziraphale didn't. There was a lot about faith and obedience and such.

But there were also people who felt it was simply something you were sentenced to, and those with the right authority could sentence anyone at any time.

It seems they were right. The latter, I mean.

By the end of Job's minisode, Aziraphale is convinced he's going to be sent to Hell, and he has good reasons to believe that. He had just sabotaged God's Plan. And not some hypothetical ineffable plan - he saw a written document signed by God personally stating what is supposed to happen to Job's children and he prevented that exact thing from happening.

But Crowley told let it stay between the two of us and that was it.

Therefore the reason Aziraphale didn't fall was simply that nobody ever caught him and nobody ever reported him.

Then, at the beginning of episode 6, we see Gabriel's trial, and he also expects the sentence to be the Fall (which of course doesn't bother him for now obvious reasons). And he's almost right too. The only reason he was meant to receive different punishment was so that Heaven could avoid a PR scandal.

So it's confirmed that the Fall is something arbitrarily decided by angels in charge.

What's so big about Metatron's offer is that we learn that the Fall is not irrevocable. Just like an angel with enough administrative power can sentence someone to the Fall, they can also pardon it.

"It would be within your jurisdiction". Just like that. (Meaning Gabriel could do it the entire time).

In all seriousness, I understand why Crowley didn't want to hear about it and I don't think he should take the offer. But if he thought the system was flawed, and believed it was all pointless, I can't think of a better way to start dismantling it than to have a demon reinstated as an angel. And then just continue blurring the lines as far as they go. Keep moving people up and down and up and down again.

#good omens 2 #good omens #good omens 2 spoilers

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marshmallowprotection · 1 year

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do you think saeyoung is truly an extrovert? hear me out, but most of what we see is texting or through chats or the phone. its easy to act like your ideal self in the internet, but i wonder if when he's around people, he is more closed off. most people portray him as very zany and playful, and he is, but he is so much more than that too. idk if this makes sense. anyway, i really love reading your content. thanks for posting and sharing your ocs with us. ^^

Saeyoung is a complicated man. Here's the truth about him, he's a multifaceted person who has so many qualities that it's hard to just label him as one thing. He plays a role every time he goes somewhere because he was never allowed to just be himself. He hasn't been the person he wanted to be since he was a young child, and his perception of his identity isn't quite solidified.

Is he 707, is he Luciel, is he Saeyoung? Those are all different facets of himself that exist within his mind but they have never come together until he realizes that he no longer has to wear a mask. That's when he lets his guard down and lets you into his heart. It isn't easy to take off that mask and show people he is more than what he allowed them to see at face value.

I'd say that he loves to have fun and there's nothing wrong with writing him as somebody who likes to poke fun at others and tease them. But, if that's the only thing that you angle him as, you're missing quite a huge amount of who he is.

He is intelligent and wants to be taken seriously as a creator and builder. He wants to be complimented and told that he's doing a great job at what he does even if he would never admit. He doesn't want people to shrug him off when he creates something new and exciting. He wants people to take a chance and to believe he is so much more than the jokester mask he wore.

Saeyoung is a dreamer. He wants to make other people happy and he wants to make himself happy. He wants to create inventions that can make children's smile and can change his brother's life. He wants to have rational conversations about the universe and the way that it makes him feel.

He wants to babble and talk about anything and everything that makes him tick. He wants to take apart machines and figure out how they work. He wants to tell you how they work. He wants to explain what he finds out and how it can be made better. He wants to be free as a bird who never has to think about where he goes.

Luciel is the part tired part of him. Those feelings are the dark part of his heart that have struggled throughout the years with not only his faith but the way he feels about his choices. He struggles with paranoia and depression.

Sometimes he gets burned out from doing things. It feels overwhelming to think about what he's gone through and what's going to come next. There are days when he just wants to lay down and not do anything but cry. He isn't outgoing during those moments and sometimes he needs to recharge in the darkness so things can make sense again. He has his low moments and they seem to be much lower than he's willing to admit to most people.

So, if we piece all of those things together, it wouldn't make sense to call him one or the other. It would make more sense to say he's somewhere in the middle as an ambivert. He gets energy from being around the right people but he gets overwhelmed when it's not the right situation for him. He needs time to be alone so that he can collect himself, but he can perk back up when it's the right person.

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batbobsession · 10 months

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What if chapeau taught Adam to play violin?

OMG I actually had a headcanon that Adam was just bad at playing the violin, explored a little in this fic. This'll be really cute.

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

Shifting

"Non--non, your highness, please, you hold it with your chin."

"I can't." Adam struggles to keep his frustration at bay. "I can hold it with my hands just fine."

"Oui, that is how we teach children," the tutor sighs. "They have no strength to hold something with anything but their hands. You, however, are no mere child--you have the strength to prove it."

But what difference does it make? he thinks mutinously. I held it that way during my last performance, and no one could tell the difference! It hurts when I try anyway.

Out loud, he only asks "But why is that important? I still don't understand."

The tutor's nearing his limit, Adam can tell. But he only shakes his head, the curls on his wig sagging over his forehead. "If you were to shift positions, or something shakes your concentration--"

Now Adam wants to throw the thing at the tutor's face. What sort of game is he playing, throwing out vague answers like that? Shifting positions sounds like something an idiot would do--who'd adjust his stance in the middle of a performance? Not Adam, he wouldn't. Unless something did shake his concentration, he supposes, but that wouldn't be his fault, it would be some ignoramus in the audience--

"Deep breaths, my dear, deep breaths."

His mother's voice drifts across Adam's mind like smoke, extinguishing his initial vitriol. It was true that he got riled up over certain things, especially things he didn't understand. They scared him.

But he never wanted to learn the violin! He can play fortepiano just fine, but his father insisted that an extra instrument would show how intelligent Adam was. He sent Cogsworth off to discuss it with his mother, and she eventually agreed. It still isn't fair; he is much more comfortable with the fortepiano. It's so much easier to see where the notes will spring. He overheard other nobles talking at a ball once about a marvel in Italy: a man who can place his hands on a harpsichord and play something off the top of his head. That's something Adam can understand--no way is he skilled enough, but it's easier to draw music from both hands in unison. And here, Adam wants his hands to do the same thing still. But that isn't how it works.

Deep breaths.

Just this lesson. He mustn't make a fuss, he must get through this lesson. His mother is waiting in the next room, and his father would hear of it sooner rather than later if he complained.

Not that Adam minds, but his father is not one for testing. Though it has been a while, Adam could recall his father's deep voice around him, something so strict that it leeched color from the sun.

Deep breaths.

It works, and Adam nods solemnly at his tutor, who looks less than the sum of his parts at this point. But he gestures again, and the prince raises his violin to his shoulder, resting his chin against the edge.

I won't hold it there, he rebels silently. Shifting my feet. Of all the stupid excuses.

The time slows to a crawl, with the tutor correcting Adam every other row: your fingers are too sticky, your vibrato isn't clean enough, the chin, my prince, hold it fast--

Then the clock strikes four, Adam's shoulders sag in relief, and the tutor is barely able to assign work to practice before he heads for the door, footsteps echoing across the stone.

No faith in me, Adam sulks. That much is obvious.

The door swings closed, but not before Adam hears the tutor's sharp "Non merci!" and a clatter of china.

What was that?

The young prince approaches the door to see one of the footmen at the door, clad in black, holding a tea set that is definitely the source of the clatter. Some sugar had spilled, but everything else looked intact. The tutor bumped into him, it seemed, and did not apologize.

Rude, his mother would say. She'd seek to make things right.

"I would like some tea," Adam says shortly. "Thank you for offering."

The footman nods and hands Adam a cup on a saucer, which he takes with a nod in return.

"I'm sorry he did that. I'm kind of hopeless at this." The words slip out before he can reel them in. His father never liked him admitting weakness, even in front of their staff.

But the footman only offers him what sugar is left in the bowl, and Adam accepts a heaping spoonful.

"Thank you," Adam murmurs, and the footman merely smiles, bows, and turns to leave.

But it's in those few seconds that the prince realizes he's seen this particular servant before. Black waistcoat, usually seen attending to Cogsworth, or sending messages to Mrs. Potts. Helping Lumiere with dinner service if they were short-handed, providing fresh sheets to the maids. Never spoke. Chapeau--that was his name. Adam didn't see him as much as the others--newer, most likely.

He's quick, too; gone in seconds. Adam sips his tea and heads towards the dining room.

◦🝰◦🝰◦🝰◦

A violin wakes Adam that night.

He blinks away the dream of a midnight ball, surprised when the music doesn't fade with the images. Moonlight streams through his open window, and his empty room shines with it, silver and gold designs gleaming white with the moon's eerie, ethereal light.

But the violin doesn't stop. It's a slow, melancholy tune that climbs and descends like a stream over stones. Adam almost wonders if he's woken to glimpse a faerie dance of sorts, so taken is he by the magic of the moonlight. Slowly, he rises from his bed to fetch his robe and slippers.

Chapeau stands, illuminated by a window in the hallway, and Adam nearly mistakes him for a ghost; he blends in so with the blues and greys of the night-lit castle.

Under his chin is the source of the music: a rich, brown-colored violin several sizes larger than his own, and a bow that moves along the strings with such care that Adam barely notices when he pulls it up and down.

Adam opens his mouth to say a number of things, from "why are you here" to "you scared me half to death" but whatever it is dies the moment Chapeau meets eyes with him. Instead, the footman dips his head and turns to walk away. Adam follows.

Chapeau leads him through various hallways, portraits shadowed and faceless in the night, and when the castle opens up, the violin fills the space. Several times Adam wants to ask where they're going, but he can't move his mouth; so transfixed is he.

As a prince, he was never instructed to watch after his staff--in fact, it was the other way around--but Adam watches as a moth does to flame. Chapeau's fingers climb up and down the neck of the instrument effortlessly, and there are moments when his hand shakes without troubling the instrument at all.

The violin doesn't shake, but the note does. How is that possible?

Chapeau plays one final note before gently lifting his bow from the string, and though the sound fades away to nothing, Adam can swear he still hears it ringing.

And it's as if a spell has been broken; Adam blinks and takes a few breaths before realizing they've traveled to the music room.

"H...how did you...?" There is nothing to interrupt, but Adam can still only manage a breathy whisper.

Chapeau says nothing, only waits for Adam to finish, letting both hands fall to his sides.

"The way you...the way you climbed up the strings like that," he stutters. "What is that?"

The footman smiles. "Shifting."

Something inside Adam deflates; his shoulders slump as he lets out the breath he doesn't realize he was holding. "Oh..."

Following that comes the overwhelming urge to bury his head in his hands, but Chapeau's gesturing to the prince's own little case with his bow. Adam's eyes widen.

"No--no, I can't, I--"

But something in Chapeau's stance makes Adam unclasp the case anyway, and it takes him a few moments to figure out what it is: the violin hasn't fallen from his shoulder.

"How are you doing that?"

The footman laughs and removes the instrument, before putting it back. Adam notices it this time: with a slight head tilt, Chapeau's using his jaw to hold the violin there. Adam hastens to mimic him, bringing his own violin to his shoulder.

Oh, thank God, it's much more comfortable. Adam still has to tense his shoulder a little, but once he hesitantly lets his hand fall, the violin stays where it is.

Chapeau moves to him, taking his hand and placing it on the violin's neck. He guides the prince's hands forward, and then back, and Adam practices the action a few times before he nods.

Bow in hand, Chapeau plays a quick scale, shifting to complete it on only two strings instead of three. Adam tries to mimic him.

They converse like that for a while, letting the music breathe, until Adam realizes he's gotten the hang of shifting. Then Chapeau adds that shaking into each note--"Vibrato," he defines it--and encourages him to use his forearm, not just his wrist. This clicks immediately, and they can both tell.

They incorporate it into the scales, and when Adam struggles with the bow movements, Chapeau sits him in front of his fortepiano and encourages him to play with his left hand only. Soon after, the prince can mime the bow movements by himself.

Back to the violin, and it works. Adam moves the bow in time with his fingers, following the sheet music, and the piece that the tutor bade he practice starts to sound like something.

Adam's just working around the chords near the end before Chapeau pulls out a pocket-watch to check the time, and from his expression, Adam knows he's been awake too long. Chapeau ushers him to put his violin away, and Adam obliges, but...

"But could you play the piece for me?" he asks. "Just so I know how it's supposed to sound."

Chapeau looks the sheet music over once before adjusting the stand to fit his height.

Though the sheet music says to start loud, Chapeau plays the first few notes in a hushed quiet, building slowly to the appropriate dynamic with light, flighty bow movements.

Adam closes his eyes this time, trying to remember different finger placements for the chords, the one time he'd shift placements, the switch in key. But it's hard, so hard not to drift back to that strange, ethereal world, only accessible though a violin in the small hours after midnight.

He must notice, because the music slows into silence against the written instructions, and he guides Adam back to his bedroom, tucks him in, and disappears. The moon's moved past the windows now, nestling behind wisps of leftover cloud. Nothing else in the sky.

The spell's broken now, Adam thinks. His final conscious thought before dawn.

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

Tagging people who I think might appreciate this (it's also been a while and I don't know if any of you guys are still active but still):

@lumiereswig @im-too-obssesed @forr-everrmorre @naturepointstheway @tinydooms @ginnyweatherby @sweetfayetanner @fadedelegance @trenzaloures @prince-adams-japris @morgaine2005 @greensearcher @emeraldcitynative

#batb2017 #batbfics #chapeau #prince adam #pre-curse #I have had this headcanon that Adam can play fortepiano better than violin #But the idea of a younger chapeau teaching Adam is adorable #not to mention playing a violin at night under the moon is a quietly ethereal experience so #I'm so glad I'm a violinist and can make this accurate #btw yes chapeau's playing my usual go-to piece #and Adam's piece is by Bach so historically it also fits #In my headcanons chapeau's style is like vivaldi and cadenza's style is like scarletti #For Adam the trouble was shifting but it took me forever to understand vibrato #Also Adam quit after his father left so you KNOW that little violin went to chip when he was old enough #Also I was gonna write a short scene where lumiere watches Adam run up to Chapeau the next day and be like “wait that's new; what about me?#but this is a better ending

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teacasket · 2 years

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skz as pride and prejudice moments

genre: only headcanons au: regency au, pride and prejudice au warnings: none word count: 0.8k pairing: none a/n: currently going through a pride and prejudice phase right now. if you want to read an actual p&p au i wrote: the first step

bang chan - mr. bang’s mrs. bennet’s poor nerves

“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion on my poor nerves.”

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.”

lee minho - “oh, darcy has a lot of money, like a lot”

It was a large, handsome stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into greater, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal nor falsely adorned. Elizabeth was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!

seo changbin - “i guess he’s good enough for you”

Elizabeth had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him; and Mr. Bennet soon assured her that he was rising every hour in his esteem.

“I admire all my three sons-in-law highly,” said he. “Wickham, perhaps, is my favourite; but I think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane’s.”

hwang hyunjin - moments before disaster

“May I hope, madam, for your interest with your fair daughter Elizabeth, when I solicit for the honour of a private audience with her in the course of this morning?”

Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered instantly, “Oh dear!—yes—certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy—I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you up stairs.” And, gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out:

“Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.”

“No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are.” And upon Elizabeth’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added: “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins.”

han jisung - “i’m not good at talking” “that sounds like a you problem”

“I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,” said Darcy, “of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.”

“My fingers,” said Elizabeth, “do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see so many women’s do. They have not the same force or rapidity, and do not produce the same expression. But then I have always supposed it to be my own fault—because I will not take the trouble of practising. It is not that I do not believe my fingers as capable as any other woman’s of superior execution.”

lee felix - pretty girls everywhere

“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”

“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.

“Oh! she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”

kim seungmin - the world’s most pretentious compliment

“Oh! certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.”

“All this she must possess,” added Darcy, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”

“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”

yang jeongin - clowns are meant to be laughed at

“But upon my honour, I do not. I do assure you that my intimacy has not yet taught me that. Tease calmness of manner and presence of mind! No, no; I feel he may defy us there. And as to laughter, we will not expose ourselves, if you please, by attempting to laugh without a subject. Mr. Darcy may hug himself.”

“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!” cried Elizabeth. “That is an uncommon advantage, and uncommon I hope it will continue, for it would be a great loss to me to have many such acquaintances. I dearly love a laugh.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids ot8 #skz ot8 #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #in x reader #pride and prejudice au

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epilogue-and-prologue · 2 years

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Falling - Prologue

A story I had in my WIP for the last few months and in my head since seeing the Old Guard.

This prologue happens in the aftermath of his exclusion of the group.

Booker x Female Reader!with a sister

Warnings: Throughout the story mention of depressive behaviour, endangerment of others and one self, two sisters relationship, smut at some point but it will be signalled, loneliness and angst at first and during, speaking in French because I CAN.

I will publish the prologue this week and then a chapter a week ;).

Day 7

It had been a week since his friends left him. Since he said goodbye to Andy.

“Have a little faith”

Booker could still hear her voice in his nightmares, waking up drenched in sweat in the middle of the night. After the hotel room, he had found a small flat not too far from the Globe. Joe and Nicky used to tell him stories about Shakespeare he ate up as a child would candy. He had not been around for that, but he sure loved to hear the grotesque anecdotes they had about the poet. Sitting up in his bed, the few lights streams through the windows, illuminating spots in the room. Pieces of the worn carpet, the oak dresser in front of the bed, and the scar on his right calf.

For the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he had that scar in the first place. It was before the war. Maybe when he had his first son. Or his second. All he can recall is the grief. The unwavering grief accompanying those memories. Even though he smiled thinking about the first time he taught them about talking to a woman, or the time they all were so happy when pretending they were soldiers in the war.

He never had dared to tell them that it was gruesome. He wanted to protect them from that prospect. His wife always saw through him. A young woman turned bitter after years of loneliness. She had seen him take post after post away from home, barely hugging his children before leaving. She had resented him for it, relentlessly, refusing him their bed when he knew she was giving herself away to others. He had tried to take her by force but was stopped by her tears, her cries, her kicks. He would feel the pain deep in his guts, the guilt. He would then be brought back to his own childhood home, his father forcing himself on his mother and the look of utter desperation on her face, absolute loss of control. And in his soft new childish mind would forge the promise never to do that to his wife. He ran a hand over his face and pulled the cover off, going into the adjacent kitchen for a coffee. It tasted like shit. Nicky’s was better. He had learned the technique from an actual coffee merchant in the 1750s. Or some date along these lines.

The window in the living room is translucent. The day is still young. He can hear the mother next door leaving her flat, peppering her daughter in kisses making the kid giggle and then just outright asking her to stop in what he assumed was an attempt at an adult voice. He waits until their feet can no longer be heard before going to take a shower.

He stays there an hour, not knowing what to do with himself in the meantime.

He falls asleep on the couch and sees the clock turning from 8 to 11 in no time.

He wonders if he should let himself die of hunger this time. Hunger is a death he has not tasted before, maybe it could be more merciful than the others. You slowly lose your lifeforce, drained out of you by your own body pumping blood and nutrients until there’s nothing left. You stop breathing. Almost like falling asleep.

He dresses up and leaves for the grocery store.

Hunger isn’t on the menu for today.

Day 14

The kid’s name is Ophelia. Funny name. He overheard her mother call her that. Maybe sibling? She seemed a little bit too young to have a kid that age.

The tragic name though.

He tries to keep himself sane by going on walks. He tries new recipes. He tries and tries and tries not to let himself lose control over this reality he has to face every day. The loneliness. It was killing him before. It is excruciatingly ripping his heart out now.

He receives papers. Newspapers and administrative papers. He wished letters were still a thing. He misses writing letters to people. More personal than texts or emails.

He feels like an old man. He is an old man. His bones don’t ache right, his back doesn’t give out as it should, and his knuckles bruise so easily but heal so perfectly. He wishes old age would come to take him in his sleep like a long-lost lover.

But it doesn’t. It can’t.

And it’s killing him more than anything ever has in his entire existence.

#the old guard fanfiction #booker x reader #booker x female reader #sebastien le livre x reader #sebastien le livre x female reader #the old guard #tw: depression

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magic-by-nora · 1 year

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translated from the original spanish and highlighted by Nora for what she believes in important

August 17, 1923 There is something calling me. Pa says that the curse can change its tune to pull you in, but it is not a whisper. It is a tug. It feels like a promise. Gabriel keeps warning me that nothing good will come of this, but it cannot be bad right? It feels warm. It feels strong. It pulls me away from the pueblo. I do not want to leave El Paso. It is my home. But perhaps this pull will finally put to rest this family curse. For once, our children and grandchildren may be able to live without a promise of death and destruction. I will have to warn Alicia before I leave. She knows Gabriel is prone to anger, and she will have to take over my responsibilities as Gabriel's leash holder until I return. I hope I will not be gone long. I do not want little Benito to forget I am his favorite aunt.

November 1, 1930 Gabriel found me. I am surprised it took him this long, but I put more credit to Alicia and Carmen for that. He is so old now, wearing the Kimi around his neck. I cannot believe I missed Pa's funeral, but his final wishes were that they find me. Even at the end he hoped I was still of mind. The Kimi seems to have gone to my brother's head in the time since his passing. I cannot imagine why else he would bring a full team for this. Pedro must have improved much since I last seen him to be chosen as Gabriel's second and little Benito is so tall now. I had hoped he would not have to walk down this path. I wanted to sooth the wound of my family before he had to choose to become one of the Givers of Peace. Hearing him talk about it now is even worse. Is Gabriel using his role as Kimi to convince the others that the peace is a privledge and not a burden? I had thought Alicia would keep him stable, but clearly I had too much faith in her.

Still, to see Gabriel's face once he realized I was not a corpse for him to kill was well worth the others. And for what it is worth, he seems interested in what I have discovered. It feels well to know that he still wishes to see an end to our suffering, even as he wears the Kimi.

November 4, 1930 I introduced Abraham to his cousin and it was nice to see Benito smile at him. Of course, gordito started crying as they were playing but it was still a joy to see. It will likely be the last time the two will ever meet.

Pedro wanted to do what they came here to do, but gratefully hermano still has some sense left in him. We agreed that this could be our family's best chance, even though the [Benefactor]* seems to be changing their mood lately. But that is not for my brother to know. Gabriel promised he would come back every year to check on my progress, but we both know it is to complete the family task.

I will not allow him to hold this knife to my throat. He may be Kimi, but I never turned away from our gift so he has no sway over my actions. As long as I live, the Givers of Peace will not know where I am. I hope he will someday understand that I did not do this out of malice but to protect what I am trying to build. Some day we will not need Kimi. I pray to the Cicerone that Benito's heart will not harden.

*this name as been aggressively crossed out

#֍ beginning or the end ֎#great grandma deserves a tag but im lazy

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dailyaudiobible · 7 months

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9/25/2023 DAB Transcript pt2

And according to Paul, this is part of the process, and he says that this will go on until, and I quote, “until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the son of God to maturity, to the measure of the full stature or standard of Christ.” So, on the one hand, the fact that this could happen, that we could mature and grow into the stature or standard of Christ, that that could even happen is amazing. But what does it even mean to grow into the stature of Christ or the standard of Christ. The concept in the Greek language which this is written in, is to be made complete, to become a standard. Like this is the, we use this word still today, like that's the gold standard. Like that's the benchmark, to be a fully mature and respected person who, who exhibits the love of Christ and who have been and are being completed in Christ. He is the standard. And so, now that we can kind of grasp this, it should be something that we’re thinking of because it's an intentional thing, growing up happens in different stages on many levels and it's happening whether we’re paying attention or not. But when we are considering where our lives are going, they’re going wherever we’re going, and if were intentional about it, we end up where we wanted to go. And if we’re not intentional about it, we end up where we are. And ultimately, if we’re thinking spiritually about growing spiritually than what we’re talking about is our union or relationship with God. We want to be more aware of His presence. We want to be available to Him. We want to have our eyes and ears open to see and hear what He is doing, and to have an interpretation for what's really going on in this crazy, chaotic, beautiful, messy story called life. And as we continue to come to our brothers and sisters, and as we continue to be in relationship with one another, and as we continue to be in this relationship with the rhythm of the Scriptures, and as we continue to cultivate a relationship with the Holy Spirit and understand His comfort and guidance, then we are growing. And Paul gives a picture of this and I quote, “we must no longer be children, tossed to and fro, and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people's trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming, but speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into Him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love.” So, Paul is saying that this union that we want with God, the awareness of his presence, this is found in maturity and for the people of God who are, according to Paul, growing in every way more and more like Christ. So, people who are looking more and more like Jesus. So, on the one hand, we could say well I fall so far short of that I don’t even know where to start, or we could flip it over and go, wait a second, this is even possible. This is, like this is possible because that would be almost too good to be true, right. The whole trajectory of this thing is that we be, we end up looking like Jesus. Like when we grow up, we’re gonna be like Jesus. The answer according to Paul seems to be absolutely yes, that's what's going on here. So maybe, maybe it's time to grow up. Maybe we take on the popular adage and embrace our destiny. This is what we were made for, to grow up and look like Jesus. Can you imagine just for, just a second, it’ll be hard to imagine but just imagine this, a world with two billion people who look like Jesus and act like Jesus and do what Jesus did, because there are 2 billion of us who claim this. Can you imagine? I mean we have the examples in the Gospels about what one Jesus did. If He is in us and among us and through us and in all of it, wow! He's not the hold up, is He? We are, it's time to grow up in Jesus.

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calle-dnd · 11 months

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Storyteller from the future (recap #002)

The old man sits quietly at the fire. Also at the fire sits men, women and children. They are all quiet. Waiting for the old man to begin telling stories. When he feels that he has all of the audience attention he draws in a breath... And says with low voice, "Once upon a time in the Sword coast there was some young boys, and like all young boys do, they dreamed about battles, saving maidens in distress and finding treasures in forgetting dungeons".He lightens his pipe and make a big ring of smoke and for a little while it looks like a flying dragon. The children gasps and the old man wants to chuckle but he hides it. He continues the story, "we all remember that the boys in their early childhood, shared a dream with a spectacular adventure. But was it a dream? They all each got a similar ring on their finger after the dream, strange and mysterious ehhh?" "But as it usually is with dreams it bleakead away and the boys grow up as every other kid does. But normal they were not as you now shall hear!We shall not linger at ther childhood, they are now grown men but inexperienced in their respective trades of work. And they all had choose really different trades. One was a wizard apprentice, another the village huntsman, a merchant and two put their faith in the order of Helm.So be it luck or fate but one day they were all together again on an adventure. They got an important mission to examine and solve problems around the town of Nightstone.

The youths were glad to be together again but there is only so much spirited youth can make up for real experience. When they arrived to Nightstone something was really wrong. It felt empty, the gates stood open and a bell sounded over the small town. Inside they could see stones in the ground and roofs that ben shattered.The youths walked inside through the gates and saw two worgs!They didn't think, only reacted and attacked the worgs. Pure luck that no more of the invading goblins heard them for otherwise they would have ben overrun by the green nasty creatures.They took a goblin prisoner but again their lack of both expeirence and leadership they just talked in circles. At a distance it surely looked like the group cooperated but how come they all ended up in the tavern is probably just coincedence.

In the tavern was a girl. She acted strange and one of the boys dicovered a suspicious note. Here for once they agreed on something and bind the girl with a rope. They did not walk far with their prisoner then seven riders come in through the gate.The young wizard apprentice mumbled that they should had closed the gates but none seemed to hear him.

The men demanded they released the girl and things looked like they would be bloody then warcries echoed over the town. A warband of orcs invaded the town and they were plenty, at least 50, no a hundred they were. One hundre blood thirsty orcs and only some youths on their first mission, 7 riders and a girl in a rope.The young wizard apprentice shouted that they should had closed the gates but if they heard him they all ignored him.The young wizard ran towards the keep because to fight all these orcs in the open would be their doom. None of his companions followed his lead. They all as one man draw their swords. The young paladin ran towards the nearst orc. A big orc with 20 ears hanging in a necklace.The orc smiled and put his feet steady at the ground. If he could count he would have had thought to himself, "soon I will have 22 ears". But alas he just thought, "many many many ears to me!".

#recap

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mysticalibra1994 · 1 year

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Weird dreams with plot... Is it just me?

Okay, so I'm sure that almost everyone has weird dreams when they go to sleep. But, I'm not sure if anyone ever has any type(s) of dreams like this...

So, this usually happens whenever I consume apples (be its apple juice, applesauce, apple chips, or just apples in general). But, I remember this one dream where Ned Flanders felt bad that his kids don't have a mother figure that would live longer than a year (or so), but he's afraid to get married again just to lose another spouse. Granted, he's a Christian, but he doesn't seem to mind having a live-in nanny to help him with his children. Todd Flanders grew attached to the live-in nanny because after losing her mother at a young age, she had doubts about the faith that she grew up with. Rod Flanders enjoys the meal plans for his Type 1 and to see his brother "real happy" and not "fake happy". Ned... Well, at first he was a little hesitant when knowing her lifestyle; Wiccan, enjoys video games, hesitates on saying grace, respects other religions, and follows more than one deity. Now, to some, that doesn't sound really bothersome. But, Ned slowly grows attached to her after getting to know her as a person instead as a label.

The dream started with Ned, his kids, and their nanny returning home from the movies. Suddenly, they begin hearing someone (or something) chewing on something. As they carefully walked in (Ned being armed with a bible and their nanny telling Rod and Todd to stay behind her), they discovered something horrible... Homer Simpson finished Rod's meal for that day (a salmon burger with eggplant "fries" and cashews). Ned angrily shouts at Homer for eating Rod's food and Homer went "Yeah, well... it was getting cold." (despite the fact that you can reheat meal plans). Suddenly, Ned picked up a folding table, and as he makes his way to Homer, their nanny does her best to make sure that the kids wouldn't see and/or hear anything violent when Ned smacks Homer in the back with the same table.

"Now, Homer. You can insult me, my lifestyle, and my support for the South-diddly-Paws. But, you have gone too diddly-darn far."

"Oh... Uh... S-sorry, Ned. I'll uh... I'll go."

The nanny left the room with Rod and Tood to the living room to wait until Ned's anger dies down; which took about a few (or so) hours. To Ned's surprise, their nanny volunteered to say grace for the first time over "pancakes for dinner". After watching animated Bible Stories, Rod and Todd went to bed. As they prepared their bedtime routine, they begin to talk about... before.

"Hey, I just want to apologize for my behavior. It's just, every time I see my kids, I see half of my beloved Maude."

"It's alright. In fact, it's quite understandable. The good news is that I made sure that they didn't witness any of it."

"Thanks. You've done so much for my family, I just wish that there was a way to show you my appreciation without the old 'Pop, goes the question'."

"Hey, I'm in no rush. Besides, my family's love life is either miserable or happy. The latter is sadly rare."

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

Unfortunately, that's when I woke up. But, recently I had a dream where the nanny used to work for the Simpsons so that way Marge could relax for the first time. Now, since the nanny looked like a "Springfield version" of me, I assume that she's my OC.

In my dream, my OC started growing attached to Maggie in a maternal way. When Maggie responded in a positive way, my Oc began tearing up. Lisa noticed this when she was entering the living room to practice her smooth jazz, she asked her what was wrong. Due to Lisa and Maggie's age, my OC explained to them that her doctor told her that the reason why she didn't have any "monthly visitors" means that she can't be a "biological mother". Of course, Lisa and Maggie understood. Eventually, Bart (sort of) understands, and Homer... does, too.

But, Marge? Well, she did say that she understand. But, she grew jealous, assumed that my OC was going to be Maggie's new mommy (thanks to Helen Lovejoy and her "gossiping personality"), and snapped at her.

"Now, you listen here, missy! I don't care what your doctor says, I am Maggie's mommy! You will never be her mommy!"

Now, that's what she said. But, what my OC heard was:

"Now, you listen here, missy! I don't care what your doctor says. I am Maggie's mommy! You will never be a mommy!"

So, my OC claims to "go out for a walk" and never came back (she even left with her stuff). Until she can find someone that can trust her with their kids, she has decided to live (temporarily) at 82 Evergreen Terrace where the late Edna Krabappel used to live (of course, she treats it with respect).

Thanks to Marge's misunderstanding, my OC has tried to do her best to please her boss(es) at her job(s). But, Moe claimed that his bar needs to look and feel depressing for "barflies". Superintendant Chalmers said that it's against the school rules for a teacher to be friends (or friendly) with students. Chief Wiggum fired my OC for not shooting and/or tasing people for no reason. Plus, he arrested her for "standing up to a cop".

By chance (almost), Ned bails her out; he was actually there to donate Bibles that he censored by hand to innocent inmates. During their first lunch date, they learned something about each other. As the date continues, Ned explains that he's nervous about "Pop, Goes the Question" and my OC says that she's in no hurry. He was a little hesitant when she politely refused to say grace, but he stayed because he knew that she's a good person (although he did faint when she said she's Wiccan and views Lucifer as an "uncle figure", but he still stayed when he came to). As Ned invites her to his house, the kids were nervous about "having a new mommy figure" in their lives, but eventually, they grew attached to her. Unlike his previous dates, he doesn't force her to change (he's not a god or a man-god), no matter how many hushed whispers they hear in church (that she goes when she feels like it).

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

So, that's all of the "The Simpsons" dreams that I dreamt so far.

I'm not sure if the "Recent Season's Ned Flanders" would react to having a nanny who's a Wiccan to watch over him and his kids, but according to his wiki page, Ned is very honest, kind, and sincere.

I hope that you all enjoy reading this if/when you guys, gals, and nonbinary pals have the time.

#weird dreams #The Simpsons #self insert #maybe #my OC

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tpanan · 2 years

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My Sunday Daily Blessings

September 18, 2022

Be still quiet your heart and mind, the LORD is here, loving you talking to you...........

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time (Roman Rite Calendar) Lectionary 135, Cycle C

First Reading: Amos 8:4-7

Hear this, you who trample upon the needy and destroy the poor of the land! "When will the new moon be over," you ask, "that we may sell our grain, and the sabbath, that we may display the wheat? We will diminish the ephah, add to the shekel, and fix our scales for cheating! We will buy the lowly for silver, and the poor for a pair of sandals; even the refuse of the wheat we will sell!" The LORD has sworn by the pride of Jacob: Never will I forget a thing they have done!

Responsorial Psalm: Psalm 113:1-2, 4-6, 7-8

"Praise the Lord who lifts up the poor."

Second Reading: 1 Timothy 2:1-8

Beloved: First of all, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and for all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth.

For there is one God. There is also one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus, who gave himself as ransom for all. This was the testimony at the proper time. For this I was appointed preacher and apostle— I am speaking the truth, I am not lying —,teacher of the Gentiles in faith and truth. It is my wish, then, that in every place the men should pray, lifting up holy hands, without anger or argument.

Verse before the Gospel: 2 Corinthians 8:9

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

"Though our Lord Jesus Christ was rich, he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich."

R: Alleluia, Alleluia

**Gospel: Luke 16:1-13

Jesus said to his disciples, "A rich man had a steward who was reported to him for squandering his property. He summoned him and said, 'What is this I hear about you? Prepare a full account of your stewardship, because you can no longer be my steward.' The steward said to himself, 'What shall I do, now that my master is taking the position of steward away from me?

I am not strong enough to dig and I am ashamed to beg. I know what I shall do so that, when I am removed from the stewardship, they may welcome me into their homes.' He called in his master's debtors one by one. To the first he said,

'How much do you owe my master?' He replied, 'One hundred measures of olive oil.' He said to him, 'Here is your promissory note. Sit down and quickly write one for fifty.' Then to another the steward said, 'And you, how much do you owe?' He replied, 'One hundred kors of wheat.' The steward said to him, 'Here is your promissory note; write one for eighty.' And the master commended that dishonest steward for acting prudently. "For the children of this world are more prudent in dealing with their own generation than are the children of light. I tell you, make friends for yourselves with dishonest wealth, so that when it fails, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. The person who is trustworthy in very small matters is also trustworthy in great ones; and the person who is dishonest in very small matters is also dishonest in great ones. If, therefore, you are not trustworthy with dishonest wealth, who will trust you with true wealth? If you are not trustworthy with what belongs to another, who will give you what is yours? No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and mammon."

OR Lk 15:1-10

**Meditation:

What does wealth and riches have to do with the kingdom of God? Jesus seemed to praise a steward (a manager entrusted with his master's goods) who misused his wealthy employer's money. What did the steward do that made Jesus praise him? The steward was responsible for managing his wealthy landowner's property. The steward very likely overcharged his master's tenants for their use of the land and kept more than his fair share of the profit. When the landowner discovered the steward's dishonest practice he immediately removed him from his job, leaving him penniless and ashamed to beg or do manual work.

The necessity of prudent foresight to avert disaster Before news of his dismissal became public knowledge, the shrewd steward struck a deal with his master's debtors. In discounting their debts he probably was giving up his generous commission. Such a deal won him great favor with the debtors. Since the steward acted as the landowner's agent, such a deal made his master look very generous and forgiving towards those who owned him money. Surely everyone would praise such a generous landowner as the town hero! Since the master could not undo the steward's cancellation of the debts without losing face and making his debtors resent him, he praised the steward for outwitting him and making him appear as a generous and merciful landowner.

Generous giving is rewarded with treasure that lasts forever What's the point of Jesus' parable? Jesus did not praise the steward for his dishonest behavior but for his shrewd foresight in relieving the debts of others who he believed would, in turn, treat him as a friend and show him mercy, kindness, and generosity in his time of need and great want. Jesus immediately followed this parable with an exhortation to his followers to make use of the world's material goods, including "tainted money" ( which in Hebrew means "unrighteous mammon"), to relieve those who are indebted to us for the material and physical help we give them in their time of need and want. In the Scriptures generous giving is connected with alms giving- the sharing of our financial and material resources with those in need (Luke 12:33). Those who receive alms become your friends because you are merciful to them in their time of need. And God who sees all, rewards those who are generous in helping others.

Generous giving will be repaid in kind. Augustine of Hippo reminds us that we are all beggars of God. "Even though you possess plenty, you are still poor. You abound in temporal possessions, but you need things eternal. You listen to the needs of a human beggar, you yourself are a beggar of God. What you do with those who beg from you is what God will do with his beggar. You are filled and you are empty. Fill your neighbor from your fullness, so that your emptiness may be filled from God's fullness" (Sermon 56, 9).

Paul the Apostle reminds us, "We brought nothing into this world and we cannot take anything out of this world" (1 Timothy 6:7). The Lord Jesus wants us to make good use of all the resources that he gives us and that come into our possession. Our life is short - but how we invest in this present life will determine our future in the age to come when the Lord Jesus will raise our mortal bodies to immortality and give to each what he or she has sown in this present life.

The rabbis had a saying, "The rich help the poor in this world, but the poor help the rich in the world to come." Ambrose, a 4th century bishop commenting on the parable of the rich fool who tore down his barns to build bigger ones to store his goods. said: The bosoms of the poor, the houses of widows, the mouths of children are the barns which last forever. The true treasure which lasts is the treasure stored up for us in heaven. God richly rewards those who give generously from the heart to help those in need.

True generosity does not impoverish - but enriches the giver What is the enemy of generosity? It's greed, the excessive desire for personal gain and security. However, we do not need to be afraid for true generosity does not impoverish the giver, but enriches that person a hundredfold! Generosity expands the soul - but greed contracts it. God is generous and superabundant in lavishing his gifts upon us. We can never outmatch God in generosity. He has given us the best of gifts in sending us his only-begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, who offered up his life for us on the cross. The Father also offers us the gift of the Holy Spirit who fills us with the fruit of peace, joy, patience, kindness, love, and self-control (Galatians 5:22) - and many other blessings as well. Everything we have is an outright gift of God. Do you know the joy and freedom of blessing others with the gifts and resources God has given to you?

What controls or rules your life? Jesus concludes his parable with a lesson on what controls or rules our lives. Who is the master (or ruler) in charge of your life? Our "master" is that which governs our thought-life, shapes our ideals, and controls the desires of the heart and the values we choose to live by. We can be ruled by many different things - the love of money or possessions, the power of position, the glamor of wealth and prestige, the driving force of unruly passions and addictions. Ultimately the choice boils down to two: God and "mammon". What is mammon? "Mammon" stands for "material wealth or possessions" or whatever tends to "control our appetites and desires."

When a number of the religious leaders heard Jesus' parable they reacted with scorn (Luke 16:14). Jesus spoke to the condition of their hearts - they were lovers of money (Luke 16:14). Love of money and wealth crowd out love of God and love of neighbor. Jesus makes clear that our heart must either be possessed by God's love or our heart will be possessed by the love of something else.

The Lord alone can satisfy our desires and give us generous hearts There is one Master alone who has the power to set us free from greed and possessiveness. That Master is the Lord Jesus Christ who died to set us free and who rose to give us new abundant life. The Lord Jesus invites us to make him the Master and Lord of our lives. He alone can satisfy the desires of our heart and transform us in his love through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Our money, time, and possessions are precious resources and gifts from God. We can guard them jealously for ourselves alone or allow the love of the Lord to guide us in making good use of them for the benefit of others - especially those in need - and for the work of the Lord in advancing his kingdom. Ask the Lord to fill your heart with a spirit of generosity and joy in sharing what you have with others.

Lord Jesus, all that I have is a gift from you. May I love you freely and generously with all that I possess. Help me to be a wise and faithful steward of the resources you put at my disposal, including the use of my time, money, and possessions.

Sources:

Lectionary for Mass for use in the Dioceses of the United States, second typical edition, copyright (c) 2001, 1998, 1986, 1970 Confraternity of Christian Doctrine; Psalm refrain (c) 1968, 1981, 1997, international committee on english in the liturgy, Inc All rights reserved. Neither this work nor any part of it may be reproduced, distributed, performed or displayed in any medium, including electronic or digital, without permission in writing from the copyright owner

**Meditations may be freely reprinted and translated into other languages for non-profit use only. Please cite copyright and original source. Copyright 2021 Daily Scripture Readings and Meditation, dailyscripture.net author Don Schwager

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