#roy's food shack

[plotwholls]

Okay so I’ve literally been searching for two days to find this post, but I can’t, so if anyone can find me the post about the League trying to figure out how crazy Amity is, PLEASE send it my way bc jfc I hate not crediting people and this is going to GRATE ON MY NERVES. Anyway.

Basic premise is that the JL sees the town goes “uh,,, that’s sus” and decides that they can’t just bust in and try and figure out if they’re crazy. So. In order to be better accepted, what do they do?

Well, they make the worst possible decision that they didn’t know was dumb: they sent a shrink.

The principal cleared her throat. “And… you’re here to apply for our, uh… what did you say?”

“The school counsel—”

“Ah yes! That!”

Dinah tried to keep her expression neutral while she internally chanted “whatthefuck whatthefuck whattheffffuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkkkk—”

The principal seemed to chew on her apprehension for a minute before giving Dinah a wavering smile and rubber stamping it. “…You can start next Friday.”

“But it’s Saturday…? I can start Mon—”

“Thatwon’tbe—!” She cleared her throat, her smile tight, as if that could conceal her prior panic. “That… won’t be… necessary, Dr. Lance.” Principal Ishiyama gestured towards the door. “Besides. We’ll need the time to— fix up your office!”

Dinah smiled and nodded, but she noted to herself as she walked out of the reception how Ishiyama rushed to her secretary to begin whispering furiously.

Dinah saw how she was scared.

Dinah paused on the front steps, digging her phone out of her slacks’ pocket. She scrolled through her contacts for a moment before finally hitting call. She pressed the phone between her ear and shoulder as she started digging through her purse for her keys. As soon as it picked up, she announced, “Hey, babe! I got the job! I’m on the front steps of my new workplace!” She sing-songed. Oliver took the hint. “Oh? What the hell happened in forty minutes that has you calling me before you’re even in the car? Actually… wouldn’t it be twenty? Fifteen? Commute’s… what, twenty-five minutes? Still can’t believe Bat’s is putting you up in this shack—”

Dinah slipped into the drivers seat, shut and locked the car and switched her phone to the other ear. “Ishiyama was scared of me.”

“…What?” Oliver laughed a bit. “Darling, don’t get me wrong, you’re terrifying, and I love every inch of you for it, but… those are Canary vibes you’re talking about….”

Dinah turned the ignition, foot pressed hard on the breaks. “Then explain to me why I’m starting next Friday even though I told her that I was ready to start Monday— or why she jumped out of her skin when I tried to shake her hand? How about how she caved the moment I confirmed I was going for the counselor position and gave it to me without further questioning?”

Oliver got a bit more serious. “And you’re sure you were reigning in the Resting Bitch Face?”

Dinah rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’m very sure that I was masking my ass off— and you know how good I am at that!”

“I know, hun,” Oliver soothes (it works, much to Dinah’s chargin and battered ego). “It’s worked on Superman and Batman. You caught your own Autism. Your mask is great, babe. Still prefer your murder vibes, though.”

Dinah grinned, her heart feeling achy and cheeks warm. “Well, yeah, that’s why I let you be my boyfriend.”

“And I thank God everyday you knocked some sense into my dumb ass— how about you go get us some safe foods and I’ll pull out the case packs again— we’ll try and figure out what’s going on, alright?”

Dinah smiled softly, her grip on the steering wheel softening, too. “Yeah, alright— when’s Roy gonna get here?” Dinah checked over her shoulder as she threw on her blinker. She turned back. “He should be up to date on anything we find.”

“He’s getting in later tonight,” Oliver told her, “and he’ll have already of eaten, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Dinah smiled. “You’re so awesome.”

“I’ll try not to get a big head, but given how often you give out praise, that’s gonna be hard….”

Dinah laughed at the overly dramatic woe. She loved that about him— how he made her laugh like she was six again. “Okay, okay— I need to go, I’m driving— text me anything you want. Ask Roy, too.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll get started on the files, too, alright? Because that wasn’t ego stroking; she shouldn’t have been scared unless she knew who you were and she did something horrible.”

Dinah smiled like she was chocolate under a heat lamp. “Okay.” God, she hopes he can’t hear her freaking heart eyes.

“Okay,” He laughs. “I’m gonna go. I still have a sofa to get through this door.”

She laughs as she takes her turn. “Alright— be safe.”

“You, too. Love you.”

“Not quite there yet,” She tells him, still melting, “but I think I’m getting there.”

“Take all the time in the universe. Bye.”

“Bye.” God, that man makes her soft. Dinah screams a little in the back of her throat, wanting to thrash a bit (but that’s dangerous, so she’ll settle on the screaming).

(She’s going to need to send Batman a gift basket for this— a way for her to bond with her boyfriend’s son, make him feel validated, and let her manage some distance from her relationship to try and figure her head out? He’s getting a basket like none other. She’s gonna dig up Grandma’s cookie-brownie recipe and make him a butt-ton. And then she’s going to send the recipe to Agent A. …and so maybe she’s going to slip in a book on autism (because there’s no way he’s neurotypical) in there, too, but who’s gonna know, huh?)

Dinah floated through parking, and starting her walk to the store, but the floating quickly shifted into a mask as phones started going off in waves— all of them with the same ringtone, which would make others (strangers, from what she could tell) lean over to look at their neighbor’s phones once they realized it wasn’t theirs.

…And slowly, one by one, they began to turn to her. Dinah saw a lot of things on their faces. She faked a happy little twirl to get a look behind her, too.

Fear. Trepidation. Horror.

The most common one was what most would call a “threat,” but Dinah had always been one for specific language, and these looks weren’t threats.

They were promises.

They were swears upon their loved ones’ graves and everything they held dear.

They were telling her a very simple story with a very stony set of the face: “fuck this up, and you won’t live to fuck it up again. We won’t let you.”

Most importantly, it gave up that tiny little detail that made the puzzle fit. With a slightly more real (if more feral) grin, Dinah did a happy little job as she finally stepped into the store. It was such a simple little word, especially with a three letter modifier tacked in front, but it told her so, so much. It said, “We won’t let you….”

“Not again.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc #oliver queen #dinah lance #black canary #batman

[number1greedlingfan]

"op ur mid au ideas are scaring the hoes" well im abt to be terrifying

2 words: stardew valley.

Ed and Al take the place of Haley and Emily in the sense that they're siblings in their twenties, they live together without parents, and Al is liked by everyone in town and Ed is uhhhh Not. Al would probably work at the Saloon like Emily does but isn't on his feet the whole time (he and Ed are still disabled-- Al has bad chronic pain and joint issues, Ed has a prosthetic leg.) I can see Ed being into photography the same way Haley is too.

Hohenheim is the father that returns randomly in year 3. Not much to say about that except that the town does not give him a warm reception on account of the whole abandoning your children thing. Maybe he fucks off soon after to live in the forest like the Wizard.

Pinako and Winry take Clint's place as the town blacksmiths because who needs that guy am I right. Winry's loved gifts would probably be raw materials and batteries.

Ling is like Elliott in that he lives on the beach and that is the end of the similarities. He has so much money (very obvious the way he talks about it) but he chooses to live in a repurposed fishing shack. In one of Ed's dialogues he speculates that Ling only lives there to scavenge for food like a seagull (he is right).

I think this goes without saying but Mustang would be the mayor. If you get enough hearts with him you get his tragic PTSD military backstory. I don't know what Hawkeye would be or where she would live in this situation, but I do know that she and Roy have the same weird secret relationship that Marnie and Lewis do.

#stardew valley #fullmetal alchemist #fma brotherhood #edward elric #alphonse elric #winry rockbell #ling yao #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #royai

[rollforhellfire]

unremarkable things

BBEG

The Hideout is not the only bar in Hawkins, but it is the only one on the outskirts of town, on the wrong side of the tracks, at the lower boundary of what’s considered safe or civilized by the residents of Hawkins. About two miles down the road from the trailer park, it’s a low-ceilinged, single-roomed shack just off the highway, with bikes parked outside in clusters in between rusting work trucks, more or less at any hour of the day or night. Between his other errands and the time it takes to walk from place to place, it’s already pushing one in the morning by the time he gets there, but the Hideout is still open. Light glows dimly through smoky windows as Eddie approaches, and neon signs posted on the corrugated metal of the exterior walls promise a variety of domestic beers available within.

Despite appearances, The Hideout’s really not that bad. It’s the people on the inside that make the next part challenging.

Eddie’s weed guy is named Randy. He’s a decent dude, a chilled out old stoner of the variety that came up in the sixties, preaching peace and love and ganja as a solution to all of life’s myriad problems. He homesteaded for a while in the Emerald Triangle, and still has connections out that way. His house is out on the lake, where he catches his own fish and grows his own food, rents and bootlegs VHS tapes, and does all of this while mildly baked. Randy is harmless.

Randy also won’t come near The Hideout for love nor money. Eddie has come here to see a man named Roy.

Roy is a drug dealer. Roy is almost certainly a member of the Hell’s Angels. By the presence of tears inked on his face, Roy has probably killed at least one person. Roy is the sort of person that the general population of Hawkins would never imagine hangs out around the shadowy edges of their little midwestern town. Everything that seems scary about Eddie at first blush—the hair, the tattoos, the old black leather and raggedy denim and stainless steel jewelry—is multiplied a thousandfold in Roy, and represents someone actually, genuinely scary. 

As Eddie shoulders open the door of the Hideout, Roy is at his usual corner table, already watching expectantly as he enters. A booted foot kicks a chair out, and with no preamble other than a nod to the bartender, Eddie crosses the room to join him.

“Wondered when you’d turn up,” Roy rumbles from the opposite side of the table, behind a braided beard streaked with grey. There are two beers on the tabletop, but Eddie doesn’t dare presume one is intended for him until he takes a seat and Roy shoves it in his direction.

“Thanks. Sorry if I made you wait.” 

Roy just grunts and takes a long swig of his beer, though one eye doesn’t leave Eddie until Eddie does the same. The buzz from the beer Herman had offered in the back of the liquor store had faded on the duration of the walk over, but it comes right back as he polishes off half of what Roy had offered. Roy does not usually offer him anything—not a seat, not a drink, not anything other than his usual variety of illicit substances for resale to Hawkins residents. Eddie keeps his expression neutral, even though he’s wary of the circumstances.

“Got a message for you,” Roy starts casually, slowly spinning an empty beer bottle on the table, between hands big enough to reach out and crush Eddie’s windpipe, with about as much effort as it would take to crush an egg.

Coincidentally, his windpipe does feel like it’s being crushed, with the rising pressure of anxiety at the back of his throat, to do with the reasons why he knows Roy in the first place, and what the source and the content of the message could be.

“Your daddy says you ain’t been taking his calls.”

This is and always has been true, at least for the past three years. Every time a collect call from Pendleton comes to the house, Eddie turns it down. He’s heard Uncle Wayne take them once or twice, but usually these calls come in the daylight hours, and usually Uncle Wayne is sleeping and Eddie’s supposed to be at school. Usually. The conversations are always short and terse. The bad blood between Wayne and his brother runs dark and deep and has a great deal to do with Eddie.

Exactly how much Roy knows on the subject and exactly what his opinion of it is, Eddie doesn’t know. He drains the rest of his bottle of beer in a way that warms his gut and loosens the tension in his throat, and gives him an artificial sense of bravery as he answers with a question, dark and sardonic, “Can you blame me?”

“Ain’t really my business. But your dad shanked somebody on the inside when he got told to, on the condition that I pass this along: he’s got a new lawyer and he’s putting in an appeal. Time comes that it makes it to trial, he wants you not to say anything against him.”

That artificial sense of bravery curdles in his gut, flips it over and sets it churning with anxious nausea, in the same moment as his throat constricts again, this time with the pressing urge to vomit. Eddie doesn’t know what he looks like when this happens, doesn’t know that his features go still and his jaw sets and his face takes on a grim cast that’s uncannily like his father—but his voice is soft and strained and breaks slightly, betraying him, as he numbly asks, “Are you supposed to take a message back?”

“You got one for me to take?”

“No.”

Roy just nods, satisfied, and polishes off his own beer. As this vanishes into his gut, he gestures to the bartender for two more. “Then I done my part.” When Eddie doesn’t answer, still numbly hunched in his chair on the opposite side of the table, Roy clears his throat, as awkwardly as anyone with a presence as commanding as his can manage. Apparently Eddie looks wretched enough about this news to inspire the pity of angels. “Look, kid, you want to know what I think, it’s that it ain’t gonna come to nothin’. Puttin’ in appeals is just what inmates do. He ain’t gettin’ out, it ain’t gonna get back in court. You ain’t gotta do nothin’ but keep lettin’ him rot and keep your own ass outta prison, and odds are you’ll never see him again.”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, still blank and distant, and when his second beer arrives, he automatically closes a hand over the top, and snaps the lid off with the inner edge of one of the rings on his fingers. Now when he drinks, it’s because he needs to. He wonders distantly if this is why Roy had offered him a beer in the first place.

Roy still watches him, caught between something that might be concern, and something else that might be disdain. He clears his throat, again, and gives Eddie a few more moments before he asks, “You wanna get down to our usual transaction?”

It’s a few moments more before Eddie snaps out of it, remembering the colour of lavender, the scent of lilacs, and the loops and whirls of Chrissy’s handwriting. He shakes his head to himself and pushes the bottle of beer away. “Y-yeah. Uh, yeah. Little different this time. This time I’ve got a list.”

It’s a testament to the depth and variety of Roy’s stock that he has no problem accomodating this list, and Eddie gets a price that only takes a fifty dollar bite out of his current profit, and leaves him with plenty of cash for assorted sundries. By the time their business is complete, Eddie has his fourth beer of the evening halfway finished, though the lurking terror of Roy’s message still churns through his gut like an augur, and its edges still cut deep and sharp inside him. His trusty old lunchbox is stuffed with a variety of substances that might help dull those edges—even Roy had offered him a couple Valium, on the house—but instead he gets up, and goes to pay his tab, before heading home.

He adds a generous tip, for the service, on top of the cost of a pint of rye. It’s a long walk home, and he’ll have to contend with the cold from without and the fear from within.

It’s hard to say which will be worse, but hopefully the whiskey makes at least one of them bearable. At least long enough to get home.

Wayne Munson works from 8PM to 4AM, but will occasionally clock overtime and not get home until half past eight, well after his nephew has already left for the day. Their lives don’t intersect very often, at least not during their waking hours, and so sometimes Wayne will make a point of getting home and staying up, to see Eddie in the morning before they both head off for bed and school, respectively.

It’s not due to any dislike or enmity that they don’t see much of each other—truthfully, Wayne likes his nephew a great deal more than he likes most other people. It’s just the way life is right now.

He comes home in the wee hours of Friday morning, parking his van and clambering out of it with a weary sigh, hard hat tucked under one arm and lunch box hanging from his other hand. Payday today. He’ll have to head into town and cash his check, once it clears, and then stock up on food to last the next two weeks. But that’s a problem for daylight proper, and with the sky overhead not even hinting at the onset of dawn, Wayne heads inside.

He’s quiet as he enters, because Eddie’s probably asleep in the back room, and quiet as he undresses, showers, and then puts on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, before going to investigate the fridge. Sometimes his nephew picks things up, sourcing an income from god knows where—but tonight there’s nothing but the half empty bottles of condiments and sprouting bag of potatoes that neither of them have dealt with. Wayne closes the fridge again, and then makes his way down the hallway to poke his head through the bedroom door and check on his nephew.

Instead he finds the bedroom, equal parts shrine and sanctuary, empty of his nephew, though not empty of his worldly possessions; his guitar and assorted sound equipment, a wardrobe stuffed with denim and faded band t-shirts, jars of dice, books and miniatures, cassette tapes, posters and other assorted memorabilia, all of which Eddie hoards like a dragon, or more accurately like a kid who was broadly denied or deprived of belongings of his own.

That Eddie isn’t there isn’t necessarily concerning—he’s nearly twenty-one, after all, and has more or less always taken care of himself—but it’s out of the ordinary, and Wayne is more puzzled than he is worried, until he hears the scrape of the key in the lock of the front door, and comes down the hall just in time to see it shoved open, as his nephew stumbles over the threshold.

Eddie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that his uncle is standing in the hallway, watching him stagger inside. There’s an urgency in him, masked but not hidden by the unsteadiness of his gait, and he crosses the narrow width of the trailer to half collapse against the edge of the kitchen sink, where he begins to retch and heave his guts out, with a remorseless vigour that doesn’t match his ability to hold himself up.

Wayne curses softly to himself, and crosses the room in a few quick strides, to snag a hand at the back of Eddie’s collar, looping his other arm behind his back and catching the faltering weight of him beneath the armpit with a grunt and a sigh. He feels the familiar shape of a fifth of something hanging in the pocket of Eddie’s jacket and wonders where he got it, how far he walked while drinking. Grimly, he drops his hand to rub up and down between his nephew’s shoulder blades. Hopefully it reassures him that his uncle isn’t mad, only worried.

In the brief pause between bouts of vomiting—the contents of the sink smell flammable, a rancid mixture of beer and bile and the acrid burn of undigested liquor—Eddie’s breath hitches and tears out of him in a way that sounds like sobbing. Then his shoulders lurch again, bony and narrow even through layers of leather and denim, and more of the evening’s libations fountain out of him, wracking his body beneath Wayne’s hands. 

After a few false starts, and then one more round that brings up only bile and saliva, Eddie finally shudders in a way that turns into a bodily shiver, then goes bonelessly limp, so that his Uncle has to follow the half-dead weight of him to the ground, helping him slump against the kitchen cabinets. He breathes shallowly, recovering, with his eyes closed and his face pale in the dim fluorescent light of the kitchen. Wayne puts a hand on his shoulder, but doesn’t say or do anything, except to study his nephew’s face and wait for some indication of what this is all about.

When he gets it, he doesn’t immediately know what it means—

“He’s gonna get out.”

“What?”

Eddie groans brokenly and his eyelids squeeze tight together as tears glint at their inside corners, and his arms wrap tight around his chest, pulling away from his uncle without meaning to, as he shudders again and tries to fold an adult’s body into a child’s posture of sheer terror, curling in on himself as he tries again, his voice a bare, raw whisper—

“He’s trying to get out, he’s going to get out. God. Oh god, he’ll kill me. This time he’s gonna kill me.”

There’s only one person in the world that Eddie is this afraid of, and he and Wayne both share the man’s blood. It sickens him to know that his own flesh and blood could’ve put such horror into his son—but he’d be lying to say he was surprised. His younger brother was always a monster. He never should’ve been allowed to father a child.

And as his nephew breaks the rest of the way down, crumpling to the floor in a drunken mess of abject terror, all Wayne can do is gather him up, gruff but gentle, and help him down the hall to bed. There are no monsters here. Not tonight, and not any other night, not if Wayne can help it. Eddie doesn’t want to go, but it isn’t hard to make him, though he raises mumbled protests the entire way there. 

Wayne ignores this, stubbornly ushering the kid into bed. Once Eddie’s settled down, his uncle makes sure he’s propped securely on his side between a hefty basket of unwashed laundry and a thin, folded over pillow, to make sure he doesn’t choke if he throws up again. He leaves Eddie’s jacket on, too difficult to extricate when his arms have locked around the pillow against his chest, but pulls his shoes off, dropping them onto the floor before pulling the blanket up around his shoulders. This accomplished, Wayne shifts to sit at the edge of the mattress, sagging with the weight of both of them, and watches until he’s sure that Eddie’s asleep. It doesn’t take long, though when it happens, it doesn’t look peaceful. Carefully, he lays a rough hand on top of his head, and sits a while longer, listening to him breathe. 

He can’t tell if it makes any difference, but he hopes that somehow, it helps. There’s nothing else he can do, for now.

<< prev || next >>

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x chrissy #stranger things #stranger things 4 #wayne munson #eddie fic #angst #fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddissy #hellcheer

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #81 Making Due

The gift baskets were now arriving weekly at the Swamp House. Farrah was embarrassed but accepted them all the same. She knew they weren't deliveries from Roy. He sent bare necessities once a month, and they arrived in a soggy cardboard box left out in the rain. The baskets by comparison, were placed on the deck, where they were safe and mostly dry.

One night Farrah decided to confront her secret admirer. She lay in wait under the broken front window. Eventually she heard footsteps on the deck. Summoning all her courage she sprung up to face him. "Who are you?" She tried to mimic Rachel's assertive voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

Just as she planned, she startled the man. He looked about thirty, dressed in old ripped jeans and a cozy, warm looking suede jacket. "I'm your neighbor. I saw that you have kids with you. There's no power in that shack so I wanted to make sure y'all have food." It was the same farmer who’d caught her in his garden!

"I'm not supposed to talk to you, I'm not supposed to talk to anyone!" She rambled, her tough façade crumbling. He looked taken aback. "Okay, so stop talking to me then. You don't have to talk to me. Can I still send you food, though?" Farrah thought of her own pitiful garden. "Yes." He chuckled "Alright, then. God bless!" He said as he turned away into the night. Farrah was flustered by this interaction, good Priesthood women never spoke to townies!

Though it was against her religion Farrah began adding the eggs to their salads and giving the girls milk to drink, no one complained. Actual nutrition had an amazing impact on them all. Once they started eating some protein, they found enough strength to start improving their environment. Farrah requested some tools and materials from Roy at his next visit.

First she fixed the windows. She made Roy go into town to buy new windows and then installed them herself. She reinforced the clothesline to make it stronger and hung up more lanterns throughout the house so it was partially illuminated, at least. She dug out an old woodworking bench from the basement and got to work, determined to build a table and some chairs. Farrah quickly found that she HATED handiness projects but she persevered nonetheless. Who else was going to fix up the place?

Farrah began to pester Roy to buy her a fridge and stove so she could make proper meals for the kids. He relented in the end and bought her a used fridge, he refused a stove since they were only supposed to be eating salads. She decided not to push the issue as she was also gunning for better beds and didn't want to make him angry.

The house was starting to feel a bit like a home at least. The girls studied and prayed and slept happily in the little cabin. But winter was coming and Farrah was worried about them all freezing to death. It seemed like she wasn't the only one, however because the next basket arrived with a makeshift woodstove, scrap metal to make a chimney and a note reading "SUPRISE!"

It took her several days to get it figured out and hooked up properly but the woodstove was a massive improvement. One morning Farrah awoke early, snuck back out to the farmer's field and just stood there, playing she violin. She hoped the sound would carry over the yard to the farmer's house.

This became her routine. The day after a basket was delivered, Farrah would go out to the fields to serenade the Farmer as a symbol of her gratitude. Now that Lily-Anne had aged up she’d sometimes bring all three girls, they didn't know what she was doing, they just figured she liked practicing outside. 

#fundie sims #fcsu #fundie tumblr #fundiesims #sims 4 story #cult blog #sims 4 #the sims 4

[muznew]

CHUS APRIL 2024 CHART by DJ Chus

- Artists: DJ Chus DATE CREATED: 2024-04-05 GENRES: Afro House, Melodic House & Techno, House, Indie Dance Tracklist : 1. CIOZ - Powa(Original Mix) 2. Space Food, Groove Shack - Alice(Original Mix) 3. Andrew Meller - Rejoice(Original Mix) 4. Danny Serrano, P.Rivas - Puñaladas(Original Mix) 5. Made By Pete - Fires(Victor Calderone & Mykol Remix) 6. Darco (IL) - Qatar(Original Mix) 7. Space Food, Groove Shack - Luv Machine(Original Mix) 8. The Organism - Ego(Doctor Dru Remix) 9. Bebbo - Reflections(Original Mix) 10. Lucero - Dancing(Original Mix) 11. Darco (IL) - This Is How You Do It(Original Mix) 12. Roy Davis Jr. - About Love(Jaden Thompson Extended Remix) 13. Vooz Brothers - Oh Sheep(Original Mix) 14. Andrew Meller - Sunshine(Original Mix) 15. The Angels (IL) - Kante(Original Mix) 16. Pezlo MD, Fiin, Vikina - Mi Tierra(La Santa, G.Zamora Remix) 17. Super Flu - We You(Adam Ten Extended Remix) 18. Nandu, Radeckt, Tripolism - Soultrain(Extended Mix) 19. Read the full article

[djmusicbest]

CHUS APRIL 2024 CHART by DJ Chus

- Artists: DJ Chus DATE CREATED: 2024-04-05 GENRES: Afro House, Melodic House & Techno, House, Indie Dance Tracklist : 1. CIOZ - Powa(Original Mix) 2. Space Food, Groove Shack - Alice(Original Mix) 3. Andrew Meller - Rejoice(Original Mix) 4. Danny Serrano, P.Rivas - Puñaladas(Original Mix) 5. Made By Pete - Fires(Victor Calderone & Mykol Remix) 6. Darco (IL) - Qatar(Original Mix) 7. Space Food, Groove Shack - Luv Machine(Original Mix) 8. The Organism - Ego(Doctor Dru Remix) 9. Bebbo - Reflections(Original Mix) 10. Lucero - Dancing(Original Mix) 11. Darco (IL) - This Is How You Do It(Original Mix) 12. Roy Davis Jr. - About Love(Jaden Thompson Extended Remix) 13. Vooz Brothers - Oh Sheep(Original Mix) 14. Andrew Meller - Sunshine(Original Mix) 15. The Angels (IL) - Kante(Original Mix) 16. Pezlo MD, Fiin, Vikina - Mi Tierra(La Santa, G.Zamora Remix) 17. Super Flu - We You(Adam Ten Extended Remix) 18. Nandu, Radeckt, Tripolism - Soultrain(Extended Mix) 19. Read the full article

[brookston]

Holidays 5.29

Holidays

Army Day (Argentina)

Cultural Workers and Folk Artists Day (День Києва Київ; Ukraine)

Democracy Day (Nigeria)

End of the Middle Ages Day

Ganatantra Diwas (Nepal)

Hope Day

International Day of United Nations Peacekeepers (UN)

Kiev Day (Ukraine)

Learn About Composting Day

Luilak (Lazy Bones Day; Belgium)

Mount Everest Day (Nepal)

National Alligator Day

National Elderly Day (Indonesia)

National 529 Day

National Heat Awareness Day

National Hydroxyapatite Day

Oak Apple Day (UK) [a.k.a. ...

Bobby Ack Day

Castleton Garland Day (Castleton)

Garland King Day

Nettle Day

Royal Oak Day

Shick-Shack Day

Shik-Shak Day

Shitsack Day

Yak Bob Day

Paper Clip Day

Pink Flamingo Day

Put a Pillow on Your Fridge Day

Rhode Island Statehood Day (#13; 1790)

Rite of Spring Day

Veterans Day (Sweden)

Wisconsin Statehood Day (#30; 1848)

World Digestive Health Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Coq au Vin Day

International Rooster with Wine Day

National Biscuit Day

Squoosh an Ice Cream Sandwich Day

Fourth/Last Sunday in May

Cavalcata Sarda (Sardinia) [Last Sunday]

Indianapolis 500 Race Day [Sunday before Memorial Day/8 Days before 1st Monday in June]

Mad Sunday (Isle of Man) [Last Sunday]

Neighbor Day [8 Days before the 1st Monday in June]

Palo Dei Balestrieri (Italy) [Last Sunday]

Feast Days

Ambarvailia (Old Roman No Work Day, Purification Festival to Ceres)

Ascension of Baha'u'llah (Baha’i)

Bona of Pisa (Christian; Saint)

Conon and his son (Christian; Martyrs, of Iconia, Asia)

Cyril (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Mars (Ancient Rome)

Hypomone (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Maximin of Trier (a.k.a. Maximus, Bishop of Tiers; Christian; Saint)

Pere Ubu (Roi) Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Pope Alexander of Alexandria (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Siinnius, Martyrius, and Alexander (Christian; Martyrs, in Trent)

Theodosia of Constantinople (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Theodosius (Positivist; Saint)

Ursula Ledóchowska (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 149 [35 of 72]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [28 of 57]

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 149 of 2022; 216 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of week 21 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 17 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Huáiyuè), Day 29 (Ren-Wu)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 28 Iyar 5782

Islamic: 27 Shawwal 1443

J Cal: 29 Bīja; Sevenday [29 of 30]

Julian: 16 May 2022

Moon: 1% Waning Crescent

Positivist: 9 St. Paul (6th Month) [Theodosius]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 2 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 68 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 8 of 30)

#calendar #Holidays

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 5.29

Holidays

Army Day (Argentina)

Cultural Workers and Folk Artists Day (День Києва Київ; Ukraine)

Democracy Day (Nigeria)

End of the Middle Ages Day

Ganatantra Diwas (Nepal)

Hope Day

International Day of United Nations Peacekeepers (UN)

Kiev Day (Ukraine)

Learn About Composting Day

Luilak (Lazy Bones Day; Belgium)

Mount Everest Day (Nepal)

National Alligator Day

National Elderly Day (Indonesia)

National 529 Day

National Heat Awareness Day

National Hydroxyapatite Day

Oak Apple Day (UK) [a.k.a. ...

Bobby Ack Day

Castleton Garland Day (Castleton)

Garland King Day

Nettle Day

Royal Oak Day

Shick-Shack Day

Shik-Shak Day

Shitsack Day

Yak Bob Day

Paper Clip Day

Pink Flamingo Day

Put a Pillow on Your Fridge Day

Rhode Island Statehood Day (#13; 1790)

Rite of Spring Day

Veterans Day (Sweden)

Wisconsin Statehood Day (#30; 1848)

World Digestive Health Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Coq au Vin Day

International Rooster with Wine Day

National Biscuit Day

Squoosh an Ice Cream Sandwich Day

Fourth/Last Sunday in May

Cavalcata Sarda (Sardinia) [Last Sunday]

Indianapolis 500 Race Day [Sunday before Memorial Day/8 Days before 1st Monday in June]

Mad Sunday (Isle of Man) [Last Sunday]

Neighbor Day [8 Days before the 1st Monday in June]

Palo Dei Balestrieri (Italy) [Last Sunday]

Feast Days

Ambarvailia (Old Roman No Work Day, Purification Festival to Ceres)

Ascension of Baha'u'llah (Baha’i)

Bona of Pisa (Christian; Saint)

Conon and his son (Christian; Martyrs, of Iconia, Asia)

Cyril (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Mars (Ancient Rome)

Hypomone (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Maximin of Trier (a.k.a. Maximus, Bishop of Tiers; Christian; Saint)

Pere Ubu (Roi) Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Pope Alexander of Alexandria (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Siinnius, Martyrius, and Alexander (Christian; Martyrs, in Trent)

Theodosia of Constantinople (Eastern Orthodox Church)

Theodosius (Positivist; Saint)

Ursula Ledóchowska (Christian; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 149 [35 of 72]

Tomobiki (友引 Japan) [Good luck all day, except at noon.]

Unfortunate Day (Pagan) [28 of 57]

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 149 of 2022; 216 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 7 of week 21 of 2022

Celtic Tree Calendar: Huath (Hawthorn) [Day 17 of 28]

Chinese: Month 4 (Huáiyuè), Day 29 (Ren-Wu)

Chinese Year of the: Tiger (until January 22, 2023)

Hebrew: 28 Iyar 5782

Islamic: 27 Shawwal 1443

J Cal: 29 Bīja; Sevenday [29 of 30]

Julian: 16 May 2022

Moon: 1% Waning Crescent

Positivist: 9 St. Paul (6th Month) [Theodosius]

Runic Half Month: Odal (Home, Possession) [Day 2 of 15]

Season: Spring (Day 68 of 90)

Zodiac: Gemini (Day 8 of 30)

#Holidays

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #819: Tired (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

8:46 p.m. at The Beachside of Isle Defino......

It was about to get dark in the island Isle Defino and food stand workers, Roy and Lucas, has already fallen fast sleep at their own stand.

Roy/Lucas: Zzzzzzzzz......

???: Boys?

'Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz'

???: Booooyyyyys.....

'Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz'

???: BOYS!!

The boys quickly got up.in a startled like fashion before accidentally bumping each other and falling down from their chairs.

'THUD' 'THUD'

Roy: (Groans While Getting Himself Up)

Lucas: (Gets Up From the Floor as Well) I'm okay....

Roy: Huh? (Looks Up to See Ann and Shiho In Front the Stand Before Rubbing his Eyes) What you ladies doing here? (Looks Around an Almost Empty Beachside) And where the hell is everybody?

Ann: (Shrugs) Back home? The place was already empty once we got here.

Shiho: I'm.... guessing your customers left once they figured that you were both sleeping.

Ann: How long have you two been working here today?

Roy: (Yawning and Stretching While Walking Out of the Food Stand Along With Lucas) I dunno.....Six in a morning or whatever....

Ann/Shiho: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Shock) SIX IN THE MORNING!?

Roy: Yeah. Our work schedule is six to eight. What's wrong with that?

Ann: Nothing if you have the flexibility to work in that kind of hour. You two are way too young to be doing something like that. Especially when you're SUPPOSED to be vacation!

Roy: (Wave his Hand Down) Ehh. It's not that big of a deal. We still manged to pull through to the end. (Turns to Lucas) Right, Lucas?

Lucas: (Already Fast Asleep on the Ground) Zzzzzzzzzzz......

Roy: (Raised in An Eyebrow in a Bit of Confusion) Uhh....Lucas?

Lucas: Zzzzzzzzz........

Roy reaches his hand to Lucas and starts snapping his finger at him to wake up.

Lucas: (Immediately Wakes Back Up With a Small Yelp) Ahh! I'm up! I'm up!

Ann: Aww sweetie....(Makes Her Way to Lucas While Crouching Down to his Level) Are you getting sleepy already?

Lucas: (Slowly Starts Getting Back Up on his Feet) Yeah......('Yawn') I think so..... (Starts Stretching) Who would've thought working at would be so tiring....('Yawn')

Ann: You want me to carry you back to the house?

Lucas: ('Yawn') Yeah.... If it's really no problem to you, of course.

Ann: (Smiles Softly) It's isn't, kiddo. I gotcha. (Picks Lucas Up in her Arms a

Lucas: (Gives Ann a Tired Smile) Thanks, Big Sis.

Ann: You're welcome!~

Shiho: (Turns to Roy) Hey Roy, I can try and carry you back to the house too if you like.

Roy: Nah. (Yawns While Walking Out of the Beach) I can walk back with you two just fine.

Shiho: (Shrugs While Walking Next to Ann and Roy) 'Kay.

Ann: Sooooo.....How much of money you boys made so far?

Roy: A hundred and something dollars. It would've been a lot more if I didn't have constantly buy the recipe of the nachos and the hot dogs and buns.

Ann: Well, at the very least, you two still have some money leftover. So that's a good thing.

Roy: True. Wish I could've made a lot more though.

Shiho: That's understandable. And we get how boring it is to wait for your allowance come up every once and while. But you really didn't have to worry about getting up in the early morning just to start work. Especially if it's making the both of you this tired and sleepy.

Roy: ('Sigh') Yeah....I guess you right on that one. The business life can be tiring in some areas....

Ann: Those customers of yours weren't giving you two a hard time back there, were they?

Roy: Eh....Sort of? Some of them were loud and impatient for the most part. There was this one guy who almost made Lucas cry by yelling at him. So I told 'em to scram before things got more hectic.

Ann: That's very mature of you, Roy. Between you and me, I would've totally slap the guy for yelling at Lucas like that.

Shiho: Ann!

Ann: What!? I would! You know how protective I am when it comes to our little Sunflower.

Shiho: Yeah, but that doesn't mean two wrongs makes a right. They could try and hurt you for all we know. And then I would pulverize them to oblivion.

Ann: (Giggles Softly) I wouldn't doubt that for second, babe. You are the strongest girl I ever known and love after all~ (Playfully Winks at her Girlfriend)

Shiho: (Giggless Softly as Well While Bashfully Looking Away) I love you too, Ann-Bear~ But my point still stands on this, you know?

Ann: Whatever you say, Shiho-kins~

Roy: (Starts Rolling his Eyes) You lovebirds mind doing your little love shtick some other time? I'm too tired to this crap....

Ann: ('Sigh') Alright. Alright. We'll stop. But in the meantime, let's just enjoy the last bit of our vacation tommorow instead of working on that stand all day, okay?

Roy: (Shrugs) Sounds good to me. Sorry if we worried you earlier.

Ann: (Smiles Brightly at the Koopaling) Nah. Don't worry about it. We're always gonna worry about you kiddo no matter what you do.

Roy: ('Heh') You're sounding just like a mom right now.

Shiho: (Giggles Softly) I know, right? It's kind of cute.

Ann: You guys think so? I feel more like cooler big sister if anything.

Roy: I dunno about the "cooler" part, but.....

Shiho: (Playfully Pouts at Roy) Hey! Ann-Bear is the coolest girl I know!~

Roy: If that's the case, then why you have her that corny ass nickname?

Ann: (Pouts at Roy as Well) Uh excuse you!? I happen to love that corny ass nickname very much thank you.

Roy: (Snickers While Rolling his Eyes) Yeah. I bet you do.

Ann: What was that-

Lucas: Ann...is....coolest big.... sis....(Went Back to Sleep)

Ann: (Heart Begins to Melt in Pure Happiness Along at Lucas' Words Before Turning Back to Roy With a Smug Smirk on her Face) You hear that, Roy? (Gently Hugs the Sleeping Lucas) Lucas thinks I'm the coolest!~

Roy: That's because he's Lucas. He probably only said that to be nice.

Ann: Or it's because he loves us.

Shiho: (Happily Nodded in Agreement)

Roy: ('Tch') Whatevs. You're not even in my Top 10s anyway.

Ann: (Went Back to Pouting Again) ('Hmph') Rude.

@keyenuta

@princekirijo

@caleb13frede

@26shann

@ma-lemons

@albion-93

#super smash ultimate #persona 5 #ann takamaki #shiho suzui #roy koopa #lucas #roy's food shack #humor #fluff #ann x shiho #ann and shiho are best big sisters #lucas is precious #roy is roy #isle defino vacation

[tickledpink31]

Night Raven College at Hogwarts Part III: Hogsmeade Finale

Warnings: light angst (blink and you'll miss it), underage drinking with butterbeer

Original idea was from chu1luc on Wattpad.

The end of Hogwarts Week is nigh, so the best part is saved for last on the Hogsmeade Weekend Trip.

Links: Part I Part II Part III

As much as Minako would like to spend her time browsing for books in Tomes and Scrolls, she has a bunch of chaotic children to look out for.

First and foremost, Malleus heads to ice cream parlour. The person running the counter is nearly scared off.

Nevermind that this man is a paying customer and wants his butterbeer-flavoured ice cream that his Child of Man has been feeding him the year before, he's a whopping 202cm fae with horns and a scary aura.

Malleus + Scared ice cream vendor = no ice cream ):

Lilia steps in to settle the issue and bought ice cream for him with his much more relaxed presence.

Malleus + butterbeer ice cream = :)

The Leech twins have a blast at Zonko's Joke Shop. The owner of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes came by to visit Zonko's and can't help but feel nostalgic when he sees the twins.

Kalim somehow wanders off to Diagon Alley and adopts a pygmy puff at a different joke shop.

"Isn't it adorable Jamil! His name is Rajah."

Riddle and Trey getting ideas for sweets in the next tea party from Honeydukes.

And speaking of Honeydukes, Ace and Deuce spend their galleons on collecting chocolate frog cards.

They take the Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans challenge too

Grim in general wants to try E V E R Y T H I N G.

So does Ortho but not about food. He's dragging Idia everywhere, excited that his brother is finally outside and has no other excuse but to try and enjoy the experience.

Vil tries to get his hands on the best clothes in Gladrags, but came out a little disappointed with the line of clothing.

"Roi du Poison, do not pout. These brightly coloured socks scream when they get smelly."

"Rook, are you implying I have smelly feet?"

Everyone competing to get a date with Minako at Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, but she has already gone to take Malleus to the Shrieking Shack because she know's how much he loves abandoned buildings.

They totally went to explore that building.

Everyone meets up at Three Broomsticks where they get a taste of butterbeer.

Some students have had butterbeer before made by Minako, which is great don't get them wrong, but the one at Three Broomsticks really hits the spot.

Maybe it's because of the slight alcohol content. Minako's butterbeer was always alcohol-free.

At midnight, there's patronus light show. Not only do authorities get to participate, but anyone in the area that has a patronus gets to join in.

Minako summons her mouse patronus.

Deuce does it to without shame of his chicken patronus (you remember this drawing I made)

Maybe Minako taught other students too, but it probably would have been hard for them since the spell is famously difficult.

The next morning is a bittersweet goodbye.

Minako promises to visit more often as long as they write her letters.

After the Winter Holiday, it's Hogwarts' turn to visit NRC.

#my writing #my headcanons #twisted wonderland x harry potter #twisted wonderland #harry potter #NRC at Hogwarts #night raven college #royal sword academy #hogwarts #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland mc #harry potter oc #OC: Minako Nezumi #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #jade leech #floyd leech #george weasley #kalim al asim #jamil viper #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #idia shroud #ortho shroud #vil schoenheit #rook hunt

[pnwdoodlesreads]

Seattle's largest Hooverville occupied nine acres that are now used to unload container ships west of Qwest Field and the Alaska Viaduct. (Courtesy King County Archives).The failure of Depression-era policies to alleviate unemployment and address the social crisis led to the creation of Hoovervilles, shantytowns that sprang up to house those who had become homeless because of the Great Depression.

The towns were named “Hoovervilles,” because of President Herbert Hoover’s ineffective relief policies. Mass unemployment was rampant among men aged 18–50, and the lack of a social safety net continued to push them down the ladder. By looking at the Vanguard’s news coverage from 1930–1932 and the history of Hooverville written by its self-proclaimed mayor Jesse Jackson, we can see that the creation of Seattle’s Hooverville was due to an ineffective social system and the inability of local politicians to address the Depression’s social crisis.

 Even though these men wanted to care for themselves, the social structure forced them toward charity, a dependent position many unemployed men in Seattle rejected. As a reporter for The Vanguard, the newspaper of Seattle’s unemployed, wrote of one Hooverville resident, “He had a distaste for organized charity-breadlines and flop-houses so he decided to build a shack of his own and be independent.[1]  

This rejection of organized charity was due as much to a desire for independence as to the low quality of the shelter and food on offer. While there was shelter for sleeping, it was often on the ground in damp and unhygienic surroundings, and while charities such as the Salvation Army offered soup kitchens, the food was often barely digestible and contained little to no nutritional value. The creation of a Hooverville in Seattle, then, was due to the lack of social safety net, the desire for self-sufficiency, and the poor quality of Depression-era charity.

 Jesse Jackson, the self-declared mayor of Hooverville, was one of the men who had a strong distaste for organized charity. After finding men that shared this feeling, they decided to do something about it. In recalling the foundation of their Hooverville, Jackson explained,“We immediately took possession of the nine-acre tract of vacant property of the Seattle Port Commission and proceeded to settle down.[2]   Jackson and his friends rounded up whatever they could find and began to create shelters. Seattle city officials were not thrilled about this new development.

In an original attempt to disband these shantytowns and unemployed “jungles”, city officials burned down the entire community, giving the men only seven days’ eviction notice. As The Vanguard argued, this only made the social crisis worse: “If the County Health officer orders the Jungles burned out this year, as he did last year, a large number of men will be thrown upon organized charity, for no very good reason.[3]   Hooverville residents, for their part, were not thwarted by the city’s attempt to disband them. They simply dug deeper embankments for their homes and reestablished the community. Noted The Vanguard, “Meanwhile, new shacks go up everyday, and more and more buildings uptown are empty.[4]    

 In June of 1932 a new administration was elected in Seattle. They decided that the Hooverville would be tolerated until conditions improved. However, they did demand that Hooverville’s men follow a set of rules and elect a commission to enforce these rules in conversation with city officials. Among the city’s new rules was one outlawing women and children from living there, a rule almost always abided by. This agreement between Seattle and its Hooverville improved relations between the two greatly. Businesses that were originally hesitant become friendlier, donating any extra food or building supplies to Hooverville’s residents.

 The Vanguard    drew vivid pictures of the atmosphere of Seattle’s shantytown: “Little groups of men huddled around forlorn fires, ‘boiling-up’ clothes begrimed by their peculiar mode of travel, or cooking food-the worst kind of food… out of smoke-blackened cans these men eat and drink.[5]   While the surroundings were not optimal, Hooverville mayor Jesse Jackson;s more personal portrayal of Hooverville pointed out the resilient nature of residents: “…for the most part they are chin up individuals, travelling through life for the minute steerage.[6]   Either way, Hooverville was growing: very quickly after its original settlement, Jackson noted that Hooverville “…grew to a shanty city of six hundred shacks and one thousand inhabitants.[7]    

 Jackson referred to Hooverville as “…the abode of the forgotten man[8]   His characterization was correct in regards to the men who lived in other jungles or shanty communities around Washington, but not accurate of Seattle’s Hooverville. One Vanguard journalist noted that “Perhaps if some of these Jungles were as conspicuous as Hooverville, the problem of unemployment would be recognized to be really serious by those sheltered dwellers on the hilltops who live in another world.[9]  

The men in the average city jungles were in fact forgotten men. Hooverville, however, was a jungle with power. Wrote sociologist Donald Francis Roy, who lived in the Hooverville as part of his research, “Within the city, and of the city, it functions as a segregated residential area of distinct physical structure, population composition, and social behavior.[10]   Residents were not only to gain community involvement but also a place in the Seattle city board of commissioners. Hooverville was becoming a city of its own.

   A different  Hooverville near 8th Ave S. in 1933 (Courtesy University of Washington Library Digital Collection)

Despite its growing influence in the city, Hooverville was by no means a secure place to live, but a temporary and improvised shantytown. With a backdrop of skyscrapers that boasted of Seattle’s economic might, Hooverville, on the edge of the waterfront, was situated in a location where it stood out completely.

One town member commented on how “The sea appears to be eternally licking its chops in anticipation of swallowing the entire community in one juicy gulp[11]  While Hooverville’s small shacks seemed to suffice for the time being, they were not sturdy homes. Some were lucky enough to contain solid walls built of wood with separate bedrooms inside, while others barely had a wall and ceiling built from flimsy boards. One journalist described Hooverville simply and accurately as “…approximately one thousand shacks, inhabited by about fifteen hundred men, who have discovered how to exist without money.[12]    

 The shantytown consisted of almost all men, aged 18–60, with little to no income. Considering that the majority of Hooverville’s population was older men in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, many historians have been shocked that there weren’t higher death rates. Some observers of the community claimed that the shanty lifestyle provided a stability that actually improved some of the men’s health.

The only variable among these men was race, which was reflected in Hooverville’s elected board of commissioners. As Jackson wrote, “The melting pot of races and nations we had here called for a commission of several races and nations. Two whites, two negroes, and two Filipinos were selected.[13]   As noted before, the Seattle city commissioners did not allow women or children to live in the community. While some floated in and out, they were rarely permanent fixtures.  

 The spirit of these men was their most notable characteristic. Jackson declared that “If President Hoover could walk through the little shanty addition to Seattle bearing his name, he would find that it is not inhabited by a bunch of ne’er do wells, but by one thousand men who are bending every effort to beat back and regain the place in our social system that once was theirs.[14]  

Jackson’s goal was to point out that these men were not lazy, but simple, average, hardworking men who had been failed by the social system. While these men created a community together, Jackson felt that a community sensibility was not the only one in the town: “I would say it is more of an individualistic life, but we do divide up a lot around here, but it is more a settlement of rugged individualist.[15]   One of the traditions of Hooverville was for residents who found a job (a rare event), to ceremoniously give their house, bed, and stove to others still out of work. While the men of the community clearly were used to living their lives independent of others, they still found a way to help those struggling around them.  

 The political structure of Hooverville was based largely around the self-declared mayor Jesse Jackson. While the city did demand that the town create a commission of representatives, Jackson was still looked upon as the voice of Hooverville. Jackson claimed that “mayor” was never a role he sought out, but rather fell into: “I am just a simple person, whose status in life is the same as theirs, trying to do the best I know how to administer in my poor way to their wants.[16]  

The only benefit he received for being the leader of this shantytown was a donated radio from a Seattle company, which he made available to the men by hosting news and entertainment listenings in his shack. While the community seemed to have a substantial political structure, individually Jackson noted that the situation was different. “My honest opinion is that the average working man doesn’t know what he wants in a political way.[17]  

The community’s naïve opinion toward politics might have been the reason why it was so easy for them to look to Jackson to lead of the community. While there were no laws established within Hooverville, there were common rules enforced. Jackson pointed out one example. “You can’t come here and do just what you want. You can’t live alone. You have to respect your neighbor, and your neighbor must respect you.[18]   He noted that troublemakers were not thrown out by the men within Hooverville but by outside authorities.  

 The men in Hooverville did far more to help themselves than any established social and political structures did during the onset of the Depression., but their collective action was often not enough. One Seattle journalist still put it most bleakly by describing the men of Hooverville’s future as “… blacker than the soot on the cans [they eat out of],” while politicians quibbled … “about the exact number of unemployed but do nothing to relieve distress.[19]    

 Lee took this photo June 10, 1937. Close to 1,000 men lived in Seattle's Hooverville. (Courtesy University of Washington Library Digital Collection).

 Many politicians looked away at other, more “important” issues, but it was still noted that there was a crisis of housing taking place. Reported The Vanguard, “According to the report of the Central Housing Committee of the U[nemployed] C[itizens’] L[eague] to the central federation the unemployed are expected to be content with shacks, rookeries hovels in brief, a pig-pen standard of housing.[20]

  Politicians, in some cases, did far more harm then good. For instance, after ordering the burning of Hooverville, Mayor Dole of Seattle proceeded to evict more people out of their homes. He suggested that they obtain temporary, low-quality housing, then move quickly into permanent housing again. Articles in the Vanguard asked, “Just where they were going to find permanent dwellings, when they had no money to pay rent in their previous homes, was not explained.[21]  

This plan was clearly flawed and poorly thought out: “…he was going to see to it that property was protected. Human rights apparently came second.[22]   Mayor Dole claimed he was just upholding the rule of law. However, in a time of economic depression, with hundreds of thousands of American’s struggling to make ends meet, what is the duty of the law? It was established the protect individuals, not persecute them when they are down and out. “All these men ask is a job, and until that job is forthcoming, to be left alone.”[23]

Lessons from Hooverville still have not been learned today. Seattle, in 2009, is currently facing a recession that may be the most serious since the Depression of the 1930s, and a community similar to Hooverville has formed. The current “Nickelsville” is a nod to Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels, just as “Hooverville” was a sarcastic nod to President Hoover’s inaction. Additionally, the mission statement on Nickelsville’s website is eerily reminiscent of the Jackson’s description of Hooverville’s founding: “

Nickelsville will keep operating due to the inescapable fact that there are people on the streets with nowhere better to go. They are taking the initiative to organize so they can provide for themselves a basic level of safety and sanitation when their government steadfastly refuses to do so for them.[24]   Sinan Demirel, executive director of the local Seattle shelter R-O-O-T-S, which has supported Nickelsville, referenced the history of tent cities in an interview, saying,  

“Like the Tent Cities that preceded it, Nickelsville is part of a long and proud tradition of homeless persons organizing themselves to provide each other safety and to educate the broader community about their plight.[25]   The leaders of Nickelsville urge its members, as well as the members of the community, to encourage government action to fight homelessness.

If members of the Seattle community do not take action, they might experience a modern-day Hooverville. Demirel noted that, “If it is successful during its next move [in June 2009] in establishing a permanent site and permanent structures, then Nickelsville will join an even prouder tradition, dating back to Seattle’s Hooverville over three quarters of a century ago.[26]   If Seattle does not learn from the example set by Hooverville in the 1930s—that the failure of the social and political system, not individuals, leads to homelessness—it is doomed to allow history to repeat itself.  

[mychemicalimagines]

Happens Like That-Jim Halpert-Chapter 6

Summary: Jim Halpert and Melissa Ford have been best friends since he started at Dunder Mifflin in 1999. Now that a camera crew is following the employees around so they can film a documentary, do they finally tell each other their feelings? Or do they just let them go? Either way, what will become of these two best friends? 

Warnings: Cussing and Smut in later chapters.

Words: 2721

Tag List: @you-a-southpaw-doll @elskinner45 @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @goddessathenaofwar​ @simonsbluee​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @thinemineours​​ 

A/N: Here you go guys!! I hope you like it!!

Mel’s POV: (Flashback)

I look up from my book as Jim walks outta the ocean, the water rolling down his  chest. He grins and wipes some of the wet sand from his face. I giggle to myself. He’d just faceplacted in the water after stepping in a small hole on the water’s edge as the water washed away, going out with the tide. I set my book down as he gets closer.

“You ok, babe?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Yea...that sand was slipperier than I was expecting.”

I laugh. “It’s sand...that goes with the water...what else did you expect?” 

He laughs. “Hush. You’re lucky you’re my girlfriend,”

I giggle and blush, nodding. “You’re right. I am lucky. I still can’t believe it. I came to Hawaii, single and ready to mingle. Now, I’m the luckiest girl ever. All ‘cause you asked me out with a turtle and an ice cream cone.”

He grins. “I’m the lucky one, sweetheart.” 

He leans over and kisses my cheek, making me blush even more than I already was, which just has him chuckling and wrapping his arms around me. I snuggle up to him, forgetting about my book as I look out at the sunsetting on the ocean and think back to how Jim finally asked me to be his girlfriend three days ago. 

It was our second afternoon in Hawaii. We’d just gotten back to shore after a scuba diving trip in one of the coves. While we were walking to the fancy hotel we’d been put up in for this trip, my tummy growled, and Jim made the decision to take us on a detour to get food. I wasn’t about to complain. Food is good. 

We stopped at a little seafood shack, one we’d found the day before and fell in love with. Since we’d already hung out so much prior to this trip, Jim already knew what I loved to eat and what I couldn’t stand. He ordered our food while I looked around in my bag for my sunglasses. When he came back to me a few minutes later, food in hand, I had my sunglasses on my face. 

We ate as we walked along the beach. By the time we’d finished eating, Jim spotted this boat about to head out. He noticed it because there was a giant “Free Ice Cream” banner hanging on the side of it. We hurried over to it; both Jim and I love ice cream, and it being free made it ten times better. It was after we got onboard that we saw it was the kind with the glass bottom in the middle of it so tourists could see into the water.

Jim got us some ice cream cones and I sat down on one of the benches, looking through the glass and see some of the marine life move about below the boat. Within a few minutes, the local captain had the boat leaving the dock, and we were heading out for a tour of the island from the water. I watched the fish swim below, and squealed excitedly when I saw a giant sea turtle swim by.

Jim looked and he chuckled, knowing how happy turtles made me. I was so enthralled with the turtle that I nearly forgot about my ice cream cone till he gently reminded me it was there by wiping some of the melted cream off my hand. I giggled and thanked him and went back to watching the turtle swimming, absentmindedly finishing my ice cream too.

It didn’t take long before the turtle swam outta sight. I got sad since I wanted to keep watching the turtle. Jim gently ushered me to the bow of the boat, and pointed into the water. I looked down and squealed happily again when I saw that same turtle. I felt Jim’s hand on my lower back and smiled as I watched the turtle just swimming, peacefully.

I was so into watching the turtle that it took me a few minutes to realize Jim was talking to me. I looked up at him. 

“Sorry. What?” I asked.

He chuckled softly and smiled at me. “I was saying you look so happy and beautiful, watching that lone turtle.”

I blushed. “Thank you.” 

I looked back down at the water. He took a deep, somewhat shaky breath and whispered my name. I looked up at him, and could tell he was nervous about something. What it was, I didn’t know. He gently took both my hands in his, and smiled.

“Mel. You know I like you, and I’m fairly sure you like me too. Since the moment I met you at work, I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to do this, and if I should even do it. This trip...that turtle...it’s made me realize that I should. I…” He took another deep breath and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “Will...will you be my girlfriend, Mel?”

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes watered. I could tell he got a little more nervous the longer it took me to answer. I couldn’t find my voice to answer him, so I pulled my hands from his in order to wrap my arms ‘round his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. He hesitated for a brief second before his arms made their way around my waist and held me close as he kissed me back. 

After a long moment, I pulled from the kiss to take a deep breath in. I cupped his cheeks and smiled.

“James Halpert. Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.” I whispered.

He smiled wider than the Mississippi River after a major flood and whispered. “Yeah?”

I grinned and nodded. “Yeah.”

He kissed me again, smiling against my lips. I giggled into the kiss. He pulled back first and just held me close. After a few minutes, we turned to look out at the water. He kept his right arm around my waist as I laid my head on his shoulder. We stayed like that as the boat continued along its path and the sun slowly set over the island’s mountains to the left of us.

Mel’s POV: (Two Weeks Later)

For the last two weeks, Jim and I have been hiding our relationship from the rest of the staff. Mainly because we didn’t want any interference. We know that Michael would do something to embarrass us or even announce our relationship to the whole company. We wanted to tell everyone on our own terms, which so far no one but our families know. 

Since we were best friends ever since he started the company, no one ever questioned when we left together or rode in the same car. Tonight is the companies Dundie Awards.

Well it’s more like Michael’s Dundie Awards. Every year he puts together an award ceremony to talk about us to our faces, it seems. 

Every year I receive the same award: “Employee Everyone wants to Screw” Award. Needless to say, I don’t really look forward to this event. I step out of Jim’s car when we get to Chili’s. I look over at him, as I walk around the front of the car to him.

“Do we have to go in? We can stay we stopped by, but it was too full?” I whine slightly.

He chuckles. “I still haven’t went grocery shopping, and there’s no food at my house. So we have to stay. Plus, we get to see Michael make an ass out of himself like we do every year.”

I think to myself for a minute. “Deal.” 

I look around the parking lot and see no one we work with. I lean up and press my lips to his in a soft kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss back. We pull away after a second and smile. He winks at me and smiles a little more. 

“Let’s go inside, baby.” 

I nod at his words. He puts his hand on my lower back as we walk toward the building. We instantly know where to go by the music that is playing and Michael on some kind of microphone. 

“You down with the Dundies? You down with the Dundie-” 

Michael tries to sing into the mic when the music is cut off. He looks around and then at Dwight. 

“The waitress tripped over the cord.” Dwight bends down to plug it back in. 

Jim and I walk over to our seats which are next to, Ryan, Pam and Roy. I take off my jacket and lays it across my lap. 

“So we are here, thank you all for coming to the 2005 Dundie awards.” Michael says, taking off his sweater to reveal a tuxedo. 

I roll my eyes and looks at Jim. He glances at me and shrugs before turning back to Michael.

“I am your host, Michael Scott. And I just want to tell you please, please, do not drink and drive. Because you may hit a bump and spill the drink.” 

Before Michael can say anymore, we all hear Kevin say to the waitress. “Just put these on the group tab.”

“Nope, actually this year, uhh, no group tab. We’re going to be doing separate checks.” Michael says into the mic.

Stanley starts a little fight with Michael and I look at Jim.

“I didn’t bring my debit card. Just my ID..” 

“Don’t worry, Mel. I got your check.” He smiles and pats his pocket where his wallet is.

“No Jim. It’s fine-” 

“No, Mel.” He leans over and whispers. “Date night. I’ll pay.” 

I giggle quietly. “Alright if you say so. But I’m not drinking.” 

“Deal.” He smirks 

We hear Roy lean over and whisper to Pam. “Hey. Let’s go to Poor Richard’s.”

Pam just nods and stands up grabbing her jacket. Michael looks up.

“Guys, where you going? Pam, show’s just started.” Michael says.

“Sorry.” Roy takes her hand and they walk out of Chili’s.

I sigh and looks at Jim. “Great. Now my best friend left.” 

Jim glances at me and smiles. I stopped calling him my best friend when he’s around since he is now my boyfriend. Ryan looks at Jim.

“You guys staying?”

“Yeah, gotta eat somewhere.” Jim smiles. 

Michael raises one of the Dundie awards. “And now…To someone who quietly goes about their job, but always seems to land the biggest accounts...the ‘Busiest Beaver’ award goes to Phyllis Lapin!”

Everyone starts clapping and Phyllis gets out of her booth. She walks up toward Michael but making sure to high five Jim and I on the way. Every year she stops and high fives us since we do the same to her. I giggle when she walks to the ‘stage area.’

“Yeah! Way to go Phyllis! Nice work, per usual.” Michael says.

“This say ‘Bushiest Beaver.’” She says looking at the award.

My eyes widen and I look right at Michael.

“What! I told them Busiest! Idiots.” Michael tries to say.

“It-It’s fine” Phyllis says, turning around and walking past us again. 

She squeezes my shoulder and goes to her booth.

“Well, we’ll fix that up! You don’t have to display that one.” Michael says, trying to make up for it.

An hour goes by and I receive my plate of food. I got their Fettuccine Alfredo and right before I dig in, Michael starts talking into the mic.

“This next award goes to someone who is really good at sports. We had our first Basketball game and this person won the whole game for us. Even though they almost broke their nose! The ‘Best Basketball Player’ award goes to...Melissa Ford.” 

I look up as every starts cheering and clapping. I made it so no one in the office had to work that Saturday. I stand up and run over to Phyllis. I give her a quick high five before walking up to Michael. I take the award, but he holds my arm for a second before waving to Jim to come onto the stage. Jim puts down one of his Soft Shell Crab Legs and walks up to us.

Michael leans over to him and whispers. “You have to give this next award. Last year she hit me.”

Jim looks confused but nods. Michael points to the cue cards Ryan is holding.

Jim starts reading. “This next award goes to somebody who really lights up the office. Someone, who I think a lot of us, cannot keep from checking out.” He pauses then glances at Michael. “The ‘Employee Everyone Wants to Screw’ award also goes to Melissa!” I start laughing as Jim shakes his head and continues to read. “This is the 7th time Melissa has won this award. Meaning she’s won it every year since she started.”

I take the award as Michael starts singing. “Hidy ho, you sexy thang. You sexy thang you!” 

I snap my head to him then he stops singing. I walk back down to my seat. Jim follows me down and sits down.

“That was not weird or anything,” Jim whispers.

I giggle and put my awards on the table and start to eat. As we eat our food, Michael continues to give out awards. Angela got the ‘Tight Ass’ award for being everyone’s favorite stickler and for having a great ‘caboose’. The new girl Kelly got the ‘Spicy Curry’ awards, which none of us knows what that means. 

Ryan won the ‘Hottest Temp’ award, because apparently, besides me, he’s the hottest in the office. Kevin got the ‘Don’t Go in There After Me’ award for always stinking up the bathroom. That was going to be the last award because some drunk customers in the area next to ours were trying to get Michael to stop. 

This is usually Michael’s favorite party we have so I decided to make him happy.

“Yay Kevin! Woooo for Kevin, for stinking up the bathroom!” I start clapping to cheer up Michael.

Jim catches on to what I’m doing and starts clapping. “Yeah! Alright Kev!”

More people start clapping and Michael smiles a little.

“More Awards! Not everyone got one!” I shout to Michael.

“Yeah! I haven’t gotten one either! Keep going!”

“More Dundies!” I start chanting.

Jim and I start clapping and chanting. “Dundies! Dundies! Dundies!” 

Everyone starts chanting along with us and Michael smiles widely, getting his Dundies Spirit back.

“Alright, alright!” He laughs, “We’ll keep rolling. This is the ‘Fine Work’ award. This goes to Stanley for all the fine work he did this year.”

Stanley goes up and gets his award. I cheer a little.

“Go Stan! Yeah man! Good job!” I giggle slightly as Stanley smiles a little at me.

“Now, Pam left but the award she would have one would have been the ‘Whitest Sneakers.’ She usually would have one the ‘Longest Engagement’ award but they are actually getting married next week.” I cheer for Pam even though she isn’t there. 

The night comes to a close when Michael holds up the last Dundie.

“This award goes to the prankiest employee we have. It’s the ‘Jim Halpert’ award. It of course goes to Jim Halpert because there is only one of him and we can never get enough of those pranks.”

I start laughing as Jim stands up. He walks up to Michael taking the award.

“Thanks Michael. Umm...this isn’t going to be an every year award is it?” Jim asks quietly.

“Probably not. I just didn’t know what to give you,” Michael answers.

Jim nods and walks back down to me. He sits down. 

“So we got to see Ping. We learned of Michael’s true feelings for Ryan. Very touching. Um.. We heard Michael change the lyrics to a number of classic songs. Which for me ruined them all for life.” Jim says listing everything that’s happened tonight.

“I won two awards.” I giggle. “Which has never happened.” 

“You deserve all the awards.” Jim says, looking into my eyes.

“Wait...Even the ‘Don’t Go in After Me’ award?” I tease.

“Well that one night after pizza last week, yeah you deserve it.” He says, with a semi-straight face.

“James!” I shout.

He starts laughing and clapping  his hands. He then grabs his coat, running out of the Chili’s. I chase after him laughing. This has been a wonderful evening. Successful Dundies this year. 

#jim halpert #jim halpert the office #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert x oc #jim Halpert x reader oc #James Halpert #james halpert the office #james halpert x reader #james halpert imagine #james halpert x oc #james Halpert x reader oc #james Halpert x oc reader #jim Halpert x oc reader

[meetdheeraj]

When The God of Small Things won the Booker prize, I was trotted out along with the Miss Worlds as a manifestation of a triumphant, newly globalised, free-market India, stepping with confidence on to the world’s stage. I was being used in a way, which is okay. But very soon after that, the BJP came to power and immediately did the nuclear tests to great and vulgar applause from the most unexpected quarters.

I was horrified. I was such a public figure then that keeping quiet was a kind of endorsement of the tests, it was as political as speaking out. And so I wrote The End of Imagination (August 3, 1998). I was immediately kicked off the pedestal—the fairy queen-Miss India-prize-win­ning writer pedestal. The dumb drumbeat of hatred and abuse began. I believe that those nuclear tests changed the tone of public discourse. It became uglier, more stridently nationalistic and has remained like that. But while I was being trashed by one set of people, I was embraced by others. And that set me off on a journey that still goes on. Soon after the nuclear tests, the Supreme Court lifted its long-standing stay on the construction of the Sardar Sarovar Dam. I travelled to the Narmada valley and wrote The Greater Common Good (May 24, 1999).

Each journey, each essay I wrote deepened my understanding. The Parliament attack, even when it happened, seemed utterly hokey to me. The lawyer Nandita Haksar did a brilliant job of uncovering things. Around that time, I was sent to jail for committing contempt of court. Afsan Guru, wife of Shaukat Guru, one of the accused in the Parliament attack was there too. She was pregnant, wild-eyed, weeping and had no idea why she was in jail. Other prisoners were treating her like some great traitor. I tried to talk to her. I said, “I will be released soon, is there anything I can do for you?” She just looked at me blankly and said, “Can you organise a towel for me? I don’t have a towel.” She was acquitted a few years later but her life was ruined.

Nobody talks about her any more. After that I followed the case carefully. When S.A.R. Geelani was acquitted and Afzal was sentenced to death, I collected all the court papers of the case and I went off to Goa by myself with this suitcase full of papers. It was the monsoon, there were few people there, and I just sat in a shack and read the whole thing. I was appalled. So I wrote ‘...'And His Life Should Become Extinct' (October 30, 2006) about how evidence was manufactured, no process was followed, how Afzal never had a lawyer to represent him. The Supreme Court said confessions extrac­ted in police custody were inadmissible as evidence, but the media used various videos of his various “confessions”, extracted from him by the Delhi Police’s Special Cell. The police videotaped him, right here in Lodi Estate. In one confession he was made to implicate Geelani, in another someone else.

They could pick and choose which confession to show. They decided which one suited them. The media showed them seven years later when he was still alive, and as the video played SMS messages from viewers rolled along the bottom of the screen saying: “Hang him by the balls in Lal Chowk” and so on. It was such bestiality. If one lived in a crazed banana republic, one could accept it but here we go about pretending to be something else. I remember letters to Outlook where the essay was published saying things like, “Spare Afzal Guru but hang Arundhati Roy”. Despite everything, the government—the Congress government—hanged him, knowing fully well that he was innocent. It was a political move, they were trying to curry favour with the mob that was baying for his blood, fishing for votes, it was a terrible, cowardly thing to do. They should be so ashamed.... They can’t even give his body back to his family. The letter that they wrote was deliberately delayed so that it would reach the family after he was hanged. See, things like this are not ‘issues’. The barbarity perpetrated in Kashmir by the Indian government is not an “issue”—it’s life itself. And if as a society we are prepared to digest it, we corrode ourselves. We curse ourselves.

I have written about two valleys, the Narmada valley and Kashmir valley, and I do sometimes wonder why the ferocious quest for justice in one has not left it time to understand, or leave its mark on the other. Meaning that in the Nar­mada valley there is such a sophisticated understanding on environmental issues, of what a dam does, of the local economy, of the World Bank, of the grinding poverty, but there is little understanding of what the people of Kashmir suffer. And in Kashmir there is such a sophisticated understanding of what it means to live under a military occupation but very little of what a big dam is and does, very little about the ways in which neo-liberal policies grind people down. I’m just saying the thread of justice that I have followed...that may not be everyone’s thread but it is certainly mine. Together it all adds up to what John Berger calls “A Way of Seeing”. That is what literature is, what poetry is. That’s what it’s meant to be.

...

What we are living through today is something that had to happen at some point, given the history of the RSS. How we get through it will establish what stuff we’re really made of. Today there is a vicious, communal assault on every institution, the judiciary, educational institutions. Universities are being dismantled as places of learning, communal dunderheads appointed as teachers, syllabi are being emptied of scholarship and replaced with idiot-food. Everything is being engineered to this fascist point of view. It’s a short way down. It’s not just about political parties and power. There is tectonic shit going on. It’s an assault on the very soul, the imagination of this country. It’s serious.

- Arundhati Roy, written way back. Many many years ago.

#arundhati roy #Indian army #Parliament #afzal guru #Book #Reading #Narmada river #Dams #Water #River #Kashmir #God of Small Things #Essays #Writer

[xodaniellevictoria]

Hawaiian Dreams

Well, we finally did it guys. We went on our first tropical vacation to the Hawaiian Islands! 

I’ve only been to Hawaii once before and I was only 10 years old, and Vic has never been, so we both decided our 5 year anniversary was a great excuse to get out there and we got to experience it for the first time in our adult lives together! And what a magical experience it was. The day we landed on Oahu we didn’t do much sightseeing besides making a quick pitstop at The Dole Plantation to grab some Dole Whip on the way to our hotel. That first day was more about relaxing for us. As soon as we got to our hotel, the beautiful Turtle Bay Resort, (which happens to be where they filmed one of our favorite movies Forgetting Sarah Marshall) it was time to check into the spa for our couples massage on the beach. Getting rubbed while hearing the waves crash onto the beach is something I’ve never experienced and won't soon forget. This resort was nothing short of amazing and we will absolutely be staying here again. They literally had everything you could have needed. Bars, shops, a private beach, pool, hot tub, restaurants, spa, surf lessons, snorkel gear, I mean the list goes on and on. After our massage we took a walk on the beach as the sun was setting and found ourselves at one of the many restaurants at the resort. Roy’s Beach House was everything we could have wanted for our first dinner in Hawaii. I got the butter fish which was HEAVENLY, and Vic got the Mahi Mahi. Eating the freshest seafood, sitting outside on the beach at an upscale restaurant? Count me IN. They even left the cutest little sign on our table for us and the sweetest complimentary dessert because they knew we were celebrating our anniversary. 10/10 food and dining experience. If you ever find yourself on the north shore, please stop by Roys and tell them Danielle sent you, you won't regret making this pit stop I promise.

Day 2 started with the Kualoa Ranch ATV adventure! Kualoa Ranch is seriously one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. They've filmed countless movies and TV shows here such as Jurassic Park, Jurassic World, Jumanji, LOST, and 50 First Dates. This private nature reserve and cattle ranch houses some of the most incredible views and tours on the island. They offer zipline, horseback, ATV, boat, and movie tours, so whatever your personal preference, they got you covered. 

After the tour, we headed back to the resort to do some much needed relaxing and swimming. After some delicious pina coladas from the resort bar we ventured out into the little private bay and did some snorkeling. Neither of us had ever snorkeled before and we had a blast getting to swim with the fishes. 

After our snorkel adventure it was time for dinner. We got so many amazing recommendations from friends we decided to try out one of them for our second night on the island. We hopped in our rental car and headed to cutest surfer town, Haleiwa on the north shore, and ate at Bonzai Sushi. MAN this was some of the best sushi we have ever eaten and we’re not just saying that... PLEASE eat here if you find yourself in Haleiwa... It was insane. We both agreed this was the best dinner we ate while in Oahu, if that tells you anything... After dinner we stopped at the cutest local dive bar called Stormy’s for a nightcap. 

Day 3 started with a drive down the Kamehameha Highway to The Sunrise Shack! I have been seeing this bright yellow shack on Instagram for YEARS and knew we had to make the time to stop here while we were on the island. Luckily it was right on the way to and from our resort so it worked out perfectly. While we were on our drive we made a stop at Lanikai beach and went back to the little town of Haleiwa to do some shopping.

Since this was our last night on the island we wanted to go big, and by go big we mean it was LUAU time. The Luau we went to was the one at Paradise Cove, which happened to be the same one I went to when I was in Hawaii when I was 10! What are the odds of that! Hula dancing, ukulele music, Hawaiian history, fire dancers, and a huge buffet of traditional island cuisine. We ended the night dancing in the rain to Hawaiian love songs. The perfect ending to our anniversary trip if you ask me. It was magical.

Our final morning we woke up with the sun and made it to Sharks Cove to do some tide pool exploring before our flight. We beat the crowds and had a whole private swimming hole to ourselves. If you have kids or want a romantic swim with the fishes, I would definitely check this spot out. We loved getting there early so no one was around because a few hours later this place was PACKED. We worked up an appetite from all that swimming and wanted to try another food recommendation from our friends before we made our way to the airport. Hawaii has this grocery store called Foodland that is basically like a Safeway, Vons, Ralphs, or Albertsons. A normal grocery store that also sells some hot food like fried chicken, or in this case some of the best poké on the island. We both opted of the spicy poké bowl and were in heaven. Hawaii definitely has a special place in our hearts. We fell in love with the beautiful beaches and culture this magnificent place has to offer. Hell we even looked up how much houses cost on the island, we loved it THAT much. We will absolutely be coming back sooner rather than later, and I can't WAIT!

#travel #hawaii

[scribblescrabblebabble]

RoyEd Week Day 6 (LATE!)

Title: All in One

Rating: T+

Relationships: Roy Mustang/ Edward Elric

Chapter: 5 (Together/Apart) [Masquerade Ball ‘03 reunitation because I’m in denial]

Cross- Posted on AO3 and Fanfic.net links- AO3; Fanfic.net

Best quality reading will be through the links, not on Tumblr itself because I’m too lazy to do italics and shit right now

Roy's face itched. More specifically, the mask that obscured half of his face chafed against his jaw as he talked, and thus his face itched.

Not that he could really complain, though, for as it were, his mask was comparably lighter than many of the men and women populating the sparkling ballroom. For once in his miserable life, Roy found that he couldn't afford a mask so extravagant for the annual military masquerade.

It was astounding that he was actually here, if he were perfectly honest with himself. He wouldn't have even known it was the right time of year had Riza not shown up at his snowy cabin weeks before and demanded he come; the days all seem to blur into one when the only thing for miles is barren snowy wasteland. Roy had agreed to go, but only because he was fairly positive nobody would try to invade at the current height of winter.

He felt a tap on his elbow, and turned to find the aforementioned blonde, eyes and forehead masked in shimmering blue and an uncharacteristic smile gracing the corners of her mouth, "Glad you could make it," She greeted simply.

"Glad I could leave that hellhole for a weekend," Roy murmured back, "Five years its been since I traveled any further than the nearby town for food."

"Your eye hasn't been a trouble?" Riza asked, nodding towards the masked area of his face. Roy had forgone his eye patch in favor of the mask, but visually it didn't make a huge difference- this just itched a bit more.

"I've gotten used to it. Care to dance? I'll have to warn you in advance; I haven't danced since before I lost my depth perception." Roy offered Riza his hand, which she took, and led her to the center of the large ballroom, where couples twirled glitteringly.

Luckily, Roy's muscle memory seemed to be unaffected by time, as he found himself easily maneuvering the steps of each dance smoothly, only occasionally hit by a woman's dress tassel as she swung about or brushing another dancer's back when the temp increased suddenly. As the mass of people began to become vibrant blurs of beads and feathers, Roy caught a glimpse of gold. There was a lot of gold in the room, but only one set of golden eyes that pierced through a mask of tanned, ornately carved leather.

Roy only realized he'd stopped moving when Riza prodded him sharply with her elbow, and several annoyed dancers cursed him. Although he couldn't see her facial featured amazingly, Roy could read the concern that poured Riza's blue eyes like a current. Roy hastily moved them to the edge of the dancing crowd, smiling apologetically at his former subordinate, "I have to go check on something."

"What? Is something wrong?" Riza asked, reaching down to place her fingers at her thigh, where Roy could assume her trusty pistol was strapped.

He shook his head, "No, I just… I need to find someone."

"Okay…" The blonde woman nodded, "Well, I'll go make sure Jean hasn't gotten himself wasted on champagne."

Roy nodded absently, already intent on his curiosity. As Riza melted into the crowd, he began to ponder. Had he really seen golden eyes? Or was he just projecting his wants into the extravagance of his current setting? Was he really that sad and desperate?

He decided to slip through the crowd, keeping a very sharp eye out for the leather mask and golden set of hair and eyes, towards a gigantic stone balcony, whose doors were kept open for the partygoers to admire the expansive gardens of whoever's wealthy family home this was.

He assumed the air was cold for central at this point of winter, but he simply couldn't find the air anything but pleasantly fresh and not violently windy. It wasn't even snowing! Just to feel the chill he once mistook for real cold, Roy shed his jacket, holding it folded under one arm.

The smell of freshly mown lawn hit him as he approached the edge of the balcony, resting his arms against the ornate railing. The stars twinkled above him as populous and vibrant as the dancers behind him. Several glass lanterns hung from hooks along the balcony, shedding light into the otherwise dark nooks not brightened by the flood of ballroom light. He appeared to be the only person on the balcony, he guessed because of the apparent cold.

The golden eyes claimed his mind. How long had it been since he had last seen the gleam of confidence- of total faith in success- that had rested so permanently in those eyes?

Ed would be, what, twenty now? Was it futile to believe he was still alive, as Al so ferociously persisted? After all, they hadn't found a body, and the Rose girl had said that she saw Ed sacrifice himself for Al.

Was it possible, after all this time, Ed had found his way from the gate?

He vaguely heard the sound of footsteps behind him. The steps stopped a few paces away from Roy, and then resumed until they stopped again on his blind side. He was too focused on his thoughts to really care about whoever currently stood beside him.

The dumbfounded, "You gotta be fucking kidding me!" broke Roy from his stupor. He turned around to find Edward Elric's golden eyes burning into him behind the leather mask, "There's no way you're not cold right now."

"Fullmetal." Roy said stupidly, unable to really process the situation.

Ed rolled his eyes, pushing the mask to the top of his head, "No shit- took you long enough to see me, I've been standing here for like five minutes." He looked older, unsurprisingly, but seemed to have maintained his small frame.

"Y-you're standing in my blind spot," Roy momentarily flipped up his own mask in explanation, exposing the rough scarring that now replaced his left eye, "Where the hell've you been? It's pretty rude to up and leave everyone worrying about you for nearly five and a half years, you know."

The blonde looked off to the side, resting his arms against the railing as Roy had previously, done, "I was in another world- on the other side of the gate. Alchemy wasn't a thing there, so it took a bit of creativity to find a way back."

"Another world?" Roy repeated, "What kind of world was it?"

Ed paused to think, "It was like… the same, but… I don't know, not?" Roy must have looked incredibly confused, for Ed slid a hand down his face and elaborated, "It's a lot. The people there were the same people as there are here, like everybody has a doppelganger from this world in that one, but they were all… off, like something wasn't clicking to make them just like the people here- FUCK, it's cold."

"Inside, then." Roy suggested.

"Yeah," Ed agreed.

They left the balcony to seep in the nighttime darkness. The air back inside was much nicer, but the noise was obscene. Ed led Roy to a cluster of tables, one of which was empty in the very back corner of the room. He had pushed his mask back down over his face, as was the dress code of the night.

They sat in silence for a minute, Ed with a conflicted look on what Roy could see of his face, "…There was- I mean- I met you there. Like, your other version."

Roy raised an eyebrow, "Oh?" He hadn't expected Ed to tell him something so specific.

"Yeah, we were, uh… friends," Ed explained, a blush poking out from under his brown mask that made Roy question Ed's use of 'friend', "Every bit as stupid as you, but he was more… naïve, I guess."

"How do you mean?" Roy asked, choosing to ignore the 'stupid' comment.

Ed sighed, "I don't know, I guess it was just because he's like my age there? I guess I've always been closer to adults than people my own age, so a lot of my peers in Germany just seemed so naïve, especially with that Roy. I couldn't help comparing him. Same thing with Al's double; I saw him and could only see how much he wasn't Al," Ed frowned, but quickly snapped out of his stupor with a change of topic, "How'd your eye go?"

It was Roy's turn to sigh, "Archer's bullet got me after I was done at Bradley's mansion the night you left. As you can imagine, I was demoted to Enlisted Man as soon as I came to, and I've been cooped up in a cabin up north freezing my ass off ever since. This is actually my first night away from that shit shack in five years."

"And you were about to spend it alone on a freezing balcony." Ed snarked, crossing his arms.

Roy laughed, "Trust me, the outside here is like a fresh spring morning compared to my post right now."

"...That's my fault, isn't it? I made you go kill Bradley." Ed asked tentatively.

"Ed, I wouldn't have gone if I didn't think it was the right thing to do. I chose the outpost over one in Central, you know, because if I stayed here it could only remind me that I was bleeding out when I could have been down there helping you. Maybe you wouldn't have had to sacrifice yourself then." Roy explained, doing his best to keep eye contact with the young blonde, even if he wanted to look away out of embarrassment. He hadn't had to face people and emotions for five years, and the fast refresher was like lemon juice in a wound.

Roy stood, raising a confused and slightly disappointed look form Ed, "You know, I didn't travel hours from my post for the first time in half a decade to attend a masquerade ball and not dance."

Ed realized what Roy was hinting at and shook his head violently, "Not a damn chance, Mustang. I can't dance for shit."

"And I don't have depth perception. We'll be the perfect annoyance to the higher-ups out there."

"You danced pretty well with Lieutenant Hawkeye," Ed retorted.

"She's one of the best dancers I know; it'd be extremely hard to look bad dancing with her," Roy replied, "Were you watching me dance?"

Ed blushed, "N-Not like- I just saw- don't make this fucking weird! You know what? Yeah, lets go dance," Ed stood hastily and grabbed Roy's arm whilst the older man laughed at him.

They moved into the throng of dancers in between songs so they were able to somewhat gain their bearings when the next tune began. Ed wasn't a bad dancer. In fact, he was surprisingly good, if not a bit uncomfortable, but that all really came down to experience.

The dances grew longer, and they all began to blur into one, with he and Ed following the steps of the crowd the whole while and laughing at each other when they messed up.

Roy didn't really know how it happened, but he and Ed were dancing in the ballroom at one point, and then somehow found their way back onto the deserted balcony, and then he was kissing Ed against a wall. The music's orderly and elegant tempo hardly matched the pace of their kiss- on Ed's part it was almost desperate, whilst on Roy's it was astounding relief.

Later, they would have to talk, and Roy would probably have to ask Ed exactly how close he and this 'other Roy' were to each other. They may just hook up for a night, or allow their feeling to flourish into something more.

But that could come later.

{END}

#royedweek2018 #Royed Week 2018 #royed #safe RoyEd #edward elric #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #masquerade ball #balls #dancing #Fullmetal Alchemist #fma 2003

[eggsyunwinftw]

Missing (Eggsy Unwin Imagine)

A/N: Hey pals! Sorry, I’ve been away for so long - mock exams are getting crazy! I should be writing more soon, and I hope you enjoy this one! It’s my longest one yet - sorry it's taken so long!

ALSO - if you're not following @flippingeggsy then what are you doing?

Warnings: kidnapping, swearing, violence, angst (it’s a jolly one...)

The gun in Eggsy’s hands shook imperceptibly next to the man’s head.

Blood trickled from a wound on his temple, trailing down his cheek and running over his lips. Eggsy didn’t seem to notice; he pressed the barrel harder into the man’s face.

“Where is she?” He hissed. A crackle sounded through his earpiece and he flinched.

“I don’t know - I swear - I don’t know!” Eggsy’s smirk was almost frightening, his eyes brimming with anger and desperation.

“Wrong answer, bruv,” His voice was barely a murmur. A tense silence settled over the room.  

“Eggsy! Stop -” Cried a female voice down his earpiece. Roxy. “You can’t kill him! Eggsy, please!” The man curled into himself, moving away from the agent.

“Roxy, please - I need to know,” The line went silent. Nothing

Eggsy turned to face the man, crumpled on the ground, and pressed his foot against his neck.

“You ready to talk?” He shook his head. Footsteps could be heard, pounding towards the tiny cell.

Freezing in position, Eggsy hardened his face to a glare. Removing his foot from the man’s neck, he crouched next to him and grasped his collar, pulling him to eye level.

“Where is she, you fuck?” The man radiated tension and fear but shrugged in Eggsy’s hold.

“I don’t know. My boss took her - she’s probably dead -” Eggsy pulled his fist back, shaking with white-hot anger.

As his fist knocked out the man, he felt a sharp pain, like a bee sting, in his neck.

The world went dark. Good fucking riddance.

***

“Merlin…” Distance voices crept into Eggsy’s consciousness, familiar but barely there.

“He could have killed him, Lancelot. It’s been a year, and we’ve found sod all. I don’t know where to look,” He heard Roxy’s sigh, and could vaguely feel someone holding his hand.

“He’s desperate, Merlin. We have to keep trying.” Eggsy felt a hand brush against his cheek. The touch was gentle and familiar; he moved a little, a monumental effort to press his face further into Roxy’s palm.

“Eggsy?” He blinked his eyes open, sleep making his lids heavy. Roxy, Harry and Merlin sat around the bed, and he realised he was in the hospital. Harry patted his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

“Hey…” He murmured, avoiding eye contact when Merlin stared down at him.

“Good to see you awake, Galahad,” Roxy gripped his hand, as Merlin placed a clipboard on Eggsy’s lap.

The clipboard reacted when Merlin pressed his hand to it, the screen lighting up and showing a video. It was the man Eggsy had attacked.

“If you won’t talk to Galahad, you can talk to me. Tell us what you know.” The man was strapped to a chair, nose bleeding and eyes crazed. Harry stood in front of him, leaning against a wall with a look of dismissal on his face.

“Fuck you,” He hissed, spitting on the floor at Harry’s feet.

Tutting, Harry placed a photo on the table in front of him.

“This girl,” He said, voice sombre, “Was kidnapped some time ago. We know your organisation was involved. Tell me how, and we’ll let you go,” The man just glared at him.

Harry pulled a small knife from his pocket and twirled it through his fingers.

Still in his seat, the man flinched away, but Harry moved closer.

“Are you ready to talk, Mr Hesketh?”

Fucking Charlie. Harry stood in front of him and let the knife fall on the table.

“It’s now or never, Charlie. Tell me where she is, or I’ll kill you.”

Charlie’s eyes turned dark and fearful. If there was one person he knew not to underestimate, it was Harry Hart.

“Fine. They took her somewhere in Denmark, I think. They were going to use her to get to Galahad… But she made trouble.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but his shaking hands were easy to see.

“And then?”

Charlie wouldn't meet Harry’s eyes, “They got rid of her. She tried to escape, one too many times, and they killed her.”

The video cut out. Eggsy leant his head back onto the pillows, feeling drained.

She was gone. They killed her. They fucking killed her.

“Eggs…” Murmured Roxy, but he shook his head and faced away.

“I just wanna go home. Please?”

The three agents nodded, all appearing shellshocked. Merlin called up a cab to take Eggsy back home - to the last place he ever saw you.

***

Eggsy had no idea how long the journey to his house was. His eyes watered as he stared out of the window, only seeing blurred lights and people passing by. It felt like hours - the minutes dragged on and Eggsy felt nothing.

Since your disappearance, he’d worked non stop to get you home. He researched, spied, followed up on leads, barely ate and slept if it wasn’t necessary to keep him working. Whenever Roxy tried to suggest that he took a break, he brushed it off. When Merlin informed his that he’d used every available Kingsman resource, Eggsy pushed harder.

But when Charlie said you were dead? He was crushed.

The reality hit him like a train; all along, he’d been convinced that he could find you, sitting in a warehouse somewhere looking ruffled and annoyed and desperate for a coffee. You were never supposed to be caught up in Kingsman business. Never supposed to get hurt.

Not once had he let himself doubt that you would come home.

He trudged into the house, noticing JB at his feet, picking up the little dog and nuzzling his fur. Setting out some food for him, and a few treats, he tried to keep moving, but the grief coated his limbs like ice. Slumping down onto the sofa, he curled into himself, pulling out his phone and seeing an old picture of the two of you. His fingers curled around the band of his signet ring, where a stone emblazoned with the Kingsman logo should reside. Eyes squeezed shut, he remembered your face when he’d gifted it to you on a necklace. Pure, unadulterated love. Fuck.

Eggsy Unwin’s sobs shook the house to its foundations.

***

It was six months later, when Eggsy sat in a meeting with Harry, Merlin and Percival, that Roy burst unceremoniously through the door, slamming her laptop down on the table and breathing heavily.

“I’m sorry! But Eggsy, you have to see this. I tried tracking Y/N’s phone like we did last time, and nothing came up,” Eggsy looked at her, confused.

She shook her head at him, letting her hair fall into her eyes.

“No, that’s not it - look, right there. I was looking at some old tech and our old trackers - they were in our glasses, right? But sometimes we put them in our weapons too. Like grenades, or shoes, or signet rings-” Eggsy jumped, yanking the ring off his finger and throwing it to Roxy. She caught it and pointed at the screen.

“Look! There’s a signal, somewhere in Kolding! From an old signet ring, like the one you gave-”

Eggsy was sprinting to the armoury before Roxy could finish speaking. Merlin shrugged and jumped up to follow.

“Percival - we’ll continue this later. Very sorry for the disruption,” Said Harry, following the trio out of the door.

***

Kolding was just as Eggsy had expected - cold, snowy and looking like a Christmas card.

Swathed in protective, insulated clothing, he made his way across the fields, following Merlin’s directions through his earpiece. In the distance, he could make out a small building.

“There!” Merlin cried, and Eggsy turned his pace into a run, stumbling on his shaking limbs like a baby deer learning to walk. The shack was tiny, rundown, and made entirely of stone. Pulling his gun out, he pressed his back into the wall, barely hearing Merlin over his pounding heartbeat.

Pushing the door open, he rushed in. His eyes darted across the shack frantically - stone walls, cracked concrete floor, a single chair leaning against the back wall.

“No,” He whispered, breath turning to fog in front of his smarting eyes. “Fuck!” Crying out, he turned and faced the wall, smashing it with his fist until he drew blood.

Under the chair was a signet ring - small, battered and belonging to you.

“Merlin…” He whispered as the sound of the aeroplane grew louder, making him flinch.

When he boarded the plane, he pressed his face against the window and closed his eyes.

***

“Morning, Galahad,” Merlin said, patting Eggsy on the shoulder and dropping a mission dossier on the table in front of him. Eggsy smiled tiredly, pulling the paper towards him. Printed on the front were a location and a name, which Eggsy typed into his glasses and scanned through the results.

His phone buzzed in his pocket - a text from his mum, thanking him for looking after Daisy the night before.

“No worries xx” he replied; the house was far too quiet nowadays, and Daisy was a welcome break from the silence.

“You look tired,” Roxy noted as she placed her things on the table and took a seat beside Eggsy.

“Thanks, Rox,” He snarked, rolling his eyes at her as she shoved his shoulder.

(He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t tired - he was exhausted).

“You know what I mean. Ready for the mission today?” He nodded at her, smiling and ignoring the jumping feeling in his chest. It had been a year since his encounter with Charlie, but every time they went on a mission, he almost convinced himself that you would be there. Twelve months after losing you and he still couldn’t quite quell the hope that you would appear.

Roxy left the room and Eggsy followed suit, making his way to the helicopter and slipping into the armoury along the way. He grabbed a gun from the shelf next to him, a lighter shaped hand grenade and slipped a signet ring onto his finger.

“Eggsy!” Called Roxy, exasperation creeping into her voice. Dashing out of the room, he rushed up the steps and slumped down next to her in his seat. Merlin raised his eyebrows, but Eggsy grinned back at him. The rush of a mission always made him feel alive; adrenaline pumped through his veins and made his heart pound. He was sharp, awake and alert.

Roxy tucked her legs up on the chair, swivelling to look at Eggsy.

“You’ve perked up,” She noted, pulling out a pack of cards and passing half to Eggsy. He took them and dealt a few out, ready to pass the time in their usual style.

“What can I say? I ain’t missing out on a mission like this,” Roxy nodded, looking a little concerned. He was used to that expression on her - she’d been very protective of him since you had disappeared.

“Landing in five minutes, agents,” Called Merlin from the cockpit.

Eggsy settled down into his seat, squeezing Roxy’s hand.

Thank you, he seemed to say.

***

The mission was over in a hail of bullets, with Eggsy pressed against a wall, gun in hand and heart beating like a horse on a race track.

Roxy had run off to find the computers and Eggsy could hear the sound of her breathing, distant and faint in his earpiece. He rounded the corner, gun held out as he glanced down the corridor but saw no more attackers. Just before he turned to to head to the evacuation point, he heard Roxy gasp through his earpiece.

“Lancelot?” He said, but there was no response. “Lancelot?” A knot of anxiety formed in his chest as his lungs filled with cement. Not again, he thought. I can’t lose anyone else.

“Galahad…” Roxy’s shaking voice slipped into his ear. At first, he didn’t acknowledge it, but when his brain caught up, he felt his legs moving down Roxy’s path.

“You alright?” He murmured and heard an affirmative noise from his friend.

“I’m okay, but Galahad - hurry, please,” He ran faster, feet pounding against the concrete until he rounded a corner and saw Roxy’s shadow in the doorway.

“Roxy -” He called out as he entered the room - and promptly dropped his gun as his legs gave out.

Crouched in the corner of the tiny cell was Roxy, holding the hand of a small, frightened figure leaning against a wall.

And it was you.

Eggsy felt his heart in his throat and his eyes looked you up and down, drinking in every inch of your skin.

“What?” He murmured, voice hoarse. Your head rose and you locked eyes with him, yours surrounded by dark circles and bruises, his shining with tears. Neither of you moved, staring at each other until you opened your mouth.

“Eggsy…” He stumbled forwards as Roxy moved out of the way, and he slumped onto his knees before you. Tentatively he reached out taking your cold, shaking hand in his and squeezing as gently as possible. You looked at him and saw the way his jaw clenched to suppress his sobs.

He could barely speak as he stuttered out a question, “How are you here? I thought -” You shook your head and your muscles ached at the movement.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” You whispered, and Eggsy let his tears fall. He moved forwards, monitoring your reactions and trying to keep you comfortable.

He was shocked when you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and burrowing your face into his shoulder. Clinging to you, he pulled you closer and pressed kisses into your hair between sobs.

“I love you,” He whispered, “I‘m so sorry.” You shook your head and pulled back slightly, pressing your forehead against his as tears streaked through the grime on your skin.

“How long’s it been?” You whispered and watched him flinch away, his breaths coming in dogged pants.

“A year,” He whispered, “An’ it feels like it’s been a hundred and I fucking love you,” You rested a hand on his cheek, shaking like a leaf and running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I didn’t - they said you weren’t - I thought they’d kill me, but they just moved me around, every few days,” He gripped you tightly and cringed when he felt the dried blood on your clothes.

Holding your waist, he furrowed his brow and stared into your eyes, “How long have you been here?” You closed your eyes, leaning against him.

“About a month. They said you - you stopped looking after a few months, but I left the signet ring-” He gasped and shook his head frantically.

“No, love, I never stopped! I found the ring but you were gone an’ I lost it, babe,” Burrowing your face into his neck, you kissed his shoulder and cried harder.

“- I was out of my mind without ya’, sweetheart.”

His strong arms encircled you tightly, holding your weakened frame close to his chest. When you moved your heart to look at him, he grabbed your face and kissed you hard. Your lips were chapped and cold, and your tears mingled with his as you kept kissing him.

He pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your head, before he pulled away and shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and lifting you into his arms.

“Let’s go home, babe.” You curled into his arms and for the first time in a year, you felt safe.

#eggsy #eggsy unwin #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #kingsman: the secret service #kingsman imagine #kingsman fic #kingsman fandon #kingsman fanfic #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy imagine #taron imagine #taron egerton imagine #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy x reader #taron egerton x reader #merlin #harry hart #cw kidnap #tw kidnapping #angst