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mcwriting · 3 years

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Lost in Rome

hello, friends! Ever since "La Vita Dolce," I've wanted to write something else involving Italy and at least one Italian phrase, and so this lil story was born! Hope you all enjoy!

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1488

Warnings: mentions of drinking, vv slight language

★

You had been walking around Rome for what felt like an eternity.

(It had only been like 30 minutes)

You knew the bar was right near Piazza Navona, but you'd only been to that part of the city one other time, having been staying south on the other side of the river in Trastevere.

You felt embarrassed knowing you were dragging your friends around the city without much of a guide, but you were too stubborn to admit that you were actually lost.

"Maybe we should've gone to Bar San Calisto again. It was cheap and close but noooo. I just had to look up a 'best bars in Rome' list" you thought as you continued to trudge on.

Not only were you lost, but you also didn't have the ability to look up where you were going, since you'd decided to go cheap and not buy an international plan or a vpn, choosing to only using wifi so you'd "stay in the moment."

That moment seemed stupid now that every marble wall and cobblestone street started to meld together in your brain as it continued to darken.

A trip to Rome was something you'd been wanting to do for years, so when your university offered up the chance to go study abroad for 4 weeks, you immediately began scrounging up the funds to go, even scoring a scholarship based on the fact that you'd taken Italian classes in school.

You'd only been there a week but thankfully had bonded with your roommate before even going, having struck up a conversation at the informational meeting the semester before. Since then, you had also bonded with those in the room next door, them sticking to you as their translator.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore, stopping.

"Okay, look, guys. I'm really sorry but I literally have no idea where we are," you admitted, feeling guilty. Everyone else smiled.

"That's okay! This place is beautiful! I'm sure we'll find it eventually," your roommate, Olivia, said.

"Yeah. Didn't you say it was at Piazza Navona?" Aaron, one of your neighbors, asked. You nodded. "Well as long as we can find that, then we're basically there!"

After some wandering, your group found itself in the square in front of the Pantheon, which was a step in the right direction, but you were determined to actually find the right place.

There was a hotel right there, so you quickly stepped in to ask the desk worker to point you towards the Piazza, who explained that it was only a couple streets East of where you were.

Relieved, you and your friends quickly walked that way, breathing out a collective sigh when you walked into the giant open square, looking around at the familiar structures from the second day of class when you'd toured the area.

"Sooo... where's this bar?" Aaron's roommate Joseph asked.

You all circled the square from the inside and out a couple times, not seeing any signs with the name "Bar del Fico Roma" anywhere.

Dread started to wash over you as you realized the website must not have meant the bar was actually on the square, but was somewhere nearby. You felt stupid for not screenshotting the website page or, you know, actually looking it up first.

"Fine, that's it! I'm marching up to the next person I see and asking where this darn place is. We've made it this far!" you said, exasperated.

The first thing that caught your eye was a group of people who looked close to your age, talking in a small group. They were pretty well dressed, typical of a young Italian, so you immediately started over towards them, expecting them to be the most helpful in giving directions.

"Wait, y/n!" Olivia protested, but you ignored her, walking between a shorter boy and taller girl.

You couldn't help but sigh out the words as you started speaking, placing a light hand on the boy's arm.

“Scusa, potresti dirme dov’è la-" "Excuse me, could you tell me where the-"

"Sorry! I don't speak Italian!" the boy answered in a British accent, turning to face you with hands in surrender.

You both seemed taken aback when your eyes met.

Tom Holland?

"Um, oh what was the word for sorry in Italian again?" the actor in front of you asked, looking to one of his many Spider-man costars around you. Before one could answer, you blurted out one for him.

"It's 'mi dispiace' or 'perdonami,' depending on how you want to say it," you started, realizing how stupid you probably sounded to be teaching a world famous actor Italian words after accidentally infiltrating his conversation.

However, Tom was more shocked by your American accent. Your eyes still widened as you realized what was actually going on.

"Oh my gosh, what am I saying, um. I- I'm so sorry. We're just trying to find this bar and got lost and-"

"Which bar?" he asked in return. You furrowed your brows and looked at him funny, wondering why he would care. He seemed to take notice. "It's just that, we're also headed to a bar and can't seem to find it, either."

You chuckled at the situation, baffled.

"Well, um, it's called 'Bar del Fico Roma.'"

Tom's eyes widened.

"Hey, that's where we're headed!" Jacob Batalon cut in, making you look at him and the rest of the actors in surprise. You could see your own friends shock from your peripheral.

"No way! Really?" Joseph said for you. The group nodded.

"I just got it pulled up on maps," Zendaya said, holding up her phone. Realization suddenly hit that she of all people was the one who you had been standing next to this whole time.

You and your friends all gasped incredulously, amazed at your luck after spending all that time lost.

"If you want, we can show you the way," Tom offered.

"What? No, no we couldn't impose like that," you began, knowing your friends were probably internally screaming at you.

"Oh come on," Tom responded. "We're all going to the same place anyways, not like we won't see you there. It's barely a five minute's walk."

"Seriously, y/n. Do you really want to go around asking more locals for help when we've got it right here?" Olivia asked, raising a good point.

"Alright, fine," you started, rolling your eyes. You turned back to Tom. "You know what they say, 'when in Rome.' Seriously, thank you. All of you. You're definitely saving our asses."

He chuckled as Zendaya began leading the way. Though the sun had set, lights throughout the roads and emanating from various shops lit the way.

Without meaning to, you fell into step with Tom, easily matching his gait as you crossed through the bustling piazza.

"So what brings you to Italy?" He asked. "You don't quite sound like a local."

"We're studying abroad through our university. Unfortunately for me, these goons keep following me 'cause I speak the language," you joked, causing Olivia to slap the back of her hand to your shoulder.

"Ah, I see. I was definitely confused when you went from Italian to American in an instant. Y/n, was it?"

"Yes! Yeah, that's me. And you're obviously Tom Holland."

"You better remember that later, he tends to forget his own name after a few drinks," Zendaya called back to you, causing the group to laugh.

"Hey! That was one time!" Tom defended himself. "Not my fault I was going through a breakup!"

He turned back to you.

"Don't listen to them. I'm quite fun to drink with. You should see for yourself."

"Is that some sort of offer..?" you questioned playfully, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"If everyone's alright with it, I figured you all would join us at the lounge. I'm more than happy to pay for a round or two," he winked.

The group was approaching the bar, and any anxiety you'd had about finding it finally quelled when you could see people outside laughing and drinking as they enjoyed the summer night.

"Hmm... I don't know..." you sing-songed, looking up at the sky.

"Dude are you crazy?" Aaron exclaimed, causing the others to argue in agreement with him.

"Okay, okay. Of course we would be happy to join you for a drink. Thank you."

Both groups cheered in approval.

"The only thing I ask in return is a little lesson in Italian and, if all goes well, a pretty lady's number at the end of the night," he said smoothly, giving you a look.

The others looked between you with wide eyes, surprised at his open flirting. You couldn't help but smile and blush before replying.

"I think that's something I can manage. Now come on, your first lesson will be in ordering drinks," you said, grabbing his hand to lead him in what was about to be the best night of his life.

And yours.

★

A/N: Okay fun fact I thought up this concept immediately after publishing La Vita Dolce and just... never wrote it? The entire work was actually written around the one Italian phrase I used haha.

Anyways... Hope you all enjoyed as per usual and feel free to hmu anytime about anything :)

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

@jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @justafangirlduh

#lost in rome #tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland drabble #tom holland spiderman

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hermit-pistol · 4 years

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fright night (josuke x reader)

Happy Halloween everyone! Here’s a surprise fic for you guys, enjoy and stay safe!

"A haunted house on Halloween night, man you really are insane.." Koichi suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes at his friend across the table.

It was a surprisingly warm Halloween afternoon in Morioh, at least warm enough for there to be outdoor seating at Tonio's. He was having a special on Italian cuisine that the boys just couldn't say no to.

An hour after arriving, the food had been picked over and now the group was talking about their plans for the night. Josuke had been dating you (his special someone) for only a few months now, but he was very much so looking forward to spending this night with you in particular.

More importantly, he wanted to find a perfect way to scare you so it would work in his favor.

"I think it'll be a great idea, in my opinion," Josuke shook his head. "I can see it now. Y/N and I will go in and they'll get spooked by somethin' and have no choice but to cling to my chest!"

"It's confirmed, you're delusional. It's gonna be the other way around." Josuke frowned at the comment, but was even more surprised when Okuyasu was silent.

"As my best friend, you're supposed to be standing up for me you know." He shot a pointed look at his pal, who just shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Josuke, look. While I'm all for your crazy schemes, this is quite a stretch. If it were me, I'd just spend Halloween watching scary movies and cuddling! You can't beat that." Koichi nodded in agreement.

"Man's got a point."

"Ugh, you two are no help. I'm going to take Y/N to a haunted house tonight and you two goons aren't gonna stop me!" Josuke crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip, a clear sign of pouting.

"It's your funeral." Koichi got up from his chair, adjusting his clothes before pushing his chair in. To avoid disaster, he'd keep his phone's ringer on.

"You know, you're talking but all I hear is blah blah blah..." The stubborn boy got up and Okuyasu followed suit.

"Well, I'm gonna meet up with Yukako tonight. Call me if you need to be saved." A dismissive wave of the hand told him all he needed as he walked away; Josuke was still mid temper tantrum.

"See ya, Koichi!" Okuyasu waved at the retreating figure of his friend. And then there were two. "Josuke, I'm gonna hang out with my dad tonight. People like to loiter around our place... since they think it's a haunted house and all..." He bit his lip.

"Oh! Yeah, enjoy having time with your dad. I'm gonna give Y/N a ring. Talk to you tomorrow." He waved, leaving Josuke alone at the table.

Before walking back instead the restaurant to give Tonio his well-deserved cash, he decided to give you a ring. The dial tone played a few times before he could hear your voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, babe! It's me, but you probably already knew that hehe-" He giggled at his own stupidity.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh yourself; your boyfriend could be such a dork at times. "Yes, yes I know it's you. Now, do you have a reason for calling?"

"Yes, actually. What's your schedule lookin' like tonight."

"Hmm, I don't know. Let me check." You already knew the answer but decided to humor him. After a dramatically long pause, you spoke again. "Ah! What a lucky boy you are. My schedule is free."

"O-oh perfect!" His hands started to become clammy as he tightened his grip on his phone. Why was he getting nervous all of a sudden? "Well, if you're up for it, our local haunted house is having a discount tonight. Was wonderin' if you wanted to go with?"

"Ohoh~" You chuckled before continuing, "Now I see why you called. Well, count me in. Just don't come running to me when you get scared.

Josuke scoffed, almost a little offended. "Oh, we'll see about that. Pick you up at 7 sharp."

"See ya then!" You hung up, mind running to outfit ideas immediately. This would be interesting.

Josuke hung up as well, rifling through his wallet to scrounge up some extra bills. After dropping them off inside, he left in a rush, eager to head home. (Tonio was a bit peeved that he was a few coins short, but since they were friends he'd let it slide.)

He had to prepare for his big date tonight.

--------

A few hours later, the sun had just begun to set behind the skyline. Even though it was unseasonably warm during the day, the loss of the sun gave way to brisk winds and darkness.

You had just put on your outfit and were completing the finishing touches when your phone rang once more. You picked it up to see that Josuke had opted to send you a text, saying that he was outside waiting for you. The end of the message even had one of those cheesy smiley faces.

When you opened the door, you were met with Josuke; he was clad in his best date attire. It was appropriate for the weather, wearing a simple jacket, jeans, and sneakers. "You look nice." He smiled, admiring your own sweater and jeans.

"Oh thank you, you're too kind." You gave him a peck on the lips before turning around to lock up. Since everything in the town was in close proximity, you would be walking to the venue.

It was a blissful short walk, adorned with hints of conversation. Your arms were interlocked, and you could smell the faint scent of the cologne that he had applied earlier in the day. It was always a tasteful amount, never too much.

When you arrived at the admission booth, you could have sworn that you felt Josuke's arm tremble. You brushed off the feeling, reaching into your bag to get your wallet. He placed his hand over yours, maintaining eye contact. "Nah babe, I got this one."

In all honesty, he didn't know if he had enough funds to pay, given the incident at Tonio's earlier. He just decided to charge it on his card. If he really needed to he could just beg for money later...

The unenthused attendant handed him two tickets and insisted that the line keep moving. "Here you go!" He handed you the ticket, a little damp from...hand sweat? He really had to get that clamminess problem checked out.

"You know, we don't have to do this you know." You placed a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. That's when he noticed a group of kids enter the house. 'Even babies can do this thing, there's no way that I can back out now...' he thought.

"No, really! I'm fine! I'm the one that suggested this place, remember?" He gave a shaky smile, grabbing your arm and pulling you up towards the entrance. You were greeted by another employee dressed in a witch's costume. They were telling you the rules of the haunted house, but all that you could focus on were Josuke's expressions, which could be caught out of the corner of your eye. He looked nervous and was terrible at hiding it.

After the brief explanation was over you were waiting in a short line to enter. "Remember, you can hold my hand if you start to get scared," Josuke whispered. You instinctively intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. It would make him feel better.

The attendant creaked open the doors when you were at the front of the line, "Okay guys, it's your turn! Don't get too freaked out!" You smiled and thanked them for their patronage; it was the least you could do. They've probably had to repeat their lines thousands of times over at this point.

You started to walk, but your hand that was connected to your boyfriend's was met with some resistance. "C'mon, it's our turn!" He merely gulped and nodded in response, his legs betraying him as he began to move forward.

The interior was a little creepy, and the eerie music combined with the fog machines was certainly adding to the spooky atmosphere. You hadn't encountered any actors yet, but it would only be a matter of time.

As if on cue the wall peeled back to reveal a frightening looking animatronic rat. It lunged towards you and caressed Josuke's arm in a way that could be described as anything but pleasant. He tensed up, his eyes wide.

"You okay? It's just a fake rat!" You wanted to laugh but maintained your composure for his sake. After walking through the passageways a little further a couple of other fake items jumped in your way. After the second time this happened, Josuke mumbled something about wanting to stay close and you happily complied.

The breaking point came when an actor dressed in a black cloak was stealthily approaching from behind. Neither of you had noticed until he decided to manically laugh right behind you, only a little more than an arm's length away.

Josuke took the opportunity to cower behind you; you had become his human shield. You just gave the actor a look of surprise, and he quickly diverted his attention to the scaredy-cat of a man peeking over your shoulder.

"Why so afraid?" the man kept repeating, and you were thoroughly amused as the two began a chase in circles around you.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Josuke raised his voice, careful not to scream. Another actor appeared, and it was now a 2 on 1 battle. You couldn't help the small giggles that escaped your lips as your boyfriend was frantically running around the hallway now, flailing his arms.

"OOGA BOOGA!" the other actor screamed, and Josuke let out a high pitched scream.

"Y/N I'M GONNA PUNCH HIM." You ran up to him to make sure that you weren't going to have a lawsuit on your hands.

"Josuke, no!" You cried, interlocking your arm with his. You offered a 'Happy Halloween!' complete with an apologetic smile as you rushed him through the rest of the attraction. The other actors must have heard the screaming from earlier because they didn't pay much attention to you.

Once you could feel the cool, night air, Josuke breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, I'm sorry about that Y/N, I didn't mean to-"

He was cut off mid-sentence by your arms wrapping around him tightly. You squeezed the life out of him before looking up at him, "You're adorable, you really are." He blushed, resorting to his pouting expression. "If you were afraid you could have just told me! I would have been more than comfortable with just cuddling and watching movies back at my place."

Those words sounded quite familiar to Josuke. Damn Koichi, he was always right.

"I know, I just thought it would be fun! I guess I realized that haunted houses aren't for me. I can be macho in other ways, though-" He hoisted you up into the air and you squealed. "We're getting snacks and going back to your place."

"Okay, sounds like a plan." You smiled, taking advantage of the awkward position that you were in to pull out your phone. ------- Meanwhile, at the Hirose household, Koichi was in the midst of completing his movie marathon with Yukako. Various candy wrappers surrounded them and both had clearly eaten too much for the night. Although the sugar gave them energy for a brief while, both could begin to feel the crash from their high, slowly drifting to sleep on the couch.

A vibration from his phone on the coffee table brought him out of his coma momentarily. He wiggled out of Yukako's tight embrace and picked up his phone, bringing it with him back into the comfort of her arms.

The message from you read: 'yeah, josuke totally chickened out at the haunted house, but i would expect nothing less from my big baby. you can yell at him when you see him later. let's have another double date soon! :D -Y/N'

"I knew it," he weakly smiled before putting his phone back down and drifting off to sleep for the night. Koichi could now sleep soundly knowing that he was right.

#happy halloweeeeeeen #hehehehe #ooga booga as they say #Josuke Higashikata #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo #jjba #jjba x reader #i just want to hug him #also koichi knows best

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sciencespies · 3 years

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The Tragic Irony of the U.S. Capitol's Peace Monument

https://sciencespies.com/history/the-tragic-irony-of-the-u-s-capitols-peace-monument/

The Tragic Irony of the U.S. Capitol's Peace Monument

After the storming of Congress in early January, some rioters were apparently surprised to learn that the mere “traffic circle” where they were being arrested was, in fact, the Peace Monument, and part of U.S. Capitol grounds. Mostly unnoticed on ordinary days, the ghostly, eroded statue at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue became a focal point in the news footage of the violent afternoon and remains an enigmatic emblem of its aftermath.

The Peace Monument, strangely enough, got its rocky start as a war memorial, in honor of lost Union sailors and marines. It was conceived by Adm. David Dixon Porter, a famous commander, who intended it for the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis, where he served as superintendent. He personally raised funds and, in 1871, commissioned the sculpture, even sketching out his own vision—and taking fire for it. Porter “knows more about the high seas than he does about high art,” one critic sniped.

An amalgam of classical allusions and Victorian funerary motifs, the sculpture remains something of a puzzle to modern eyes. “It’s a mishmash monument,” says Elise Friedland, a George Washington University scholar, who is researching a book about the capital city’s classical art and architecture.

At the top, which reaches around 44 feet, is the bookish muse of History, consulting a tome inscribed “they died that their country might live.” Another female figure, believed to be Grief, cries on History’s shoulder. Below gloats Victory; at her feet are cherubic versions of Mars and Neptune, toying with sword and trident.

Mars and Neptune frolic at Victory’s feet in the elaborate monument designed by a Union admiral.

(Gabriella Demczuk)

And where is the figure of Peace? Tacked onto the back of the sculpture like an afterthought.

Swept away by passion for his memorial project, Porter waited until his final fundraising efforts had all but capsized to share his plans with Secretary of the Navy Gideon Welles. The two men had a contentious relationship—Welles “served his country in its darkest hour with fidelity and zeal, if not with conspicuous ability,” Porter once wrote—and Welles vetoed Porter’s plan. The Naval Memorial, as it was called, would not sail to Annapolis after all, nor be installed at the academy. But Congress scrounged up funds and found a second-best spot, at the foot of Capitol Hill.

Sculpted by the prolific Maine native Franklin Simmons at his studio in Rome, the star-crossed monument was shipped to the District of Columbia in pieces and finished in 1877. The statue of Peace was in fact a last-minute addition, and faces the Capitol in an inexplicably topless state. (“Why is Peace naked?” Friedland wonders.) Peace was perhaps a political compromise, added to mollify former Confederates in Congress who weren’t eager to support a tribute to the Union cause. Porter shot off a note to the Architect of the Capitol: “If this statue don’t make members of Congress feel peaceful I don’t know what will.” A novelty in a city full of war memorials, this makeshift peace shrine was not formally dedicated or even quite finished; the design called for bronze dolphins that still haven’t surfaced.

Made of Carrara marble, a material as vulnerable to the elements as peace itself, the monument has not handled acid rain and pollution well. The human faces have blurred. A marble dove at Peace’s feet flew the coop long ago. Body parts have snapped off and been replaced. Making sense of the elaborate artwork has never been straightforward. “This is the issue with these allegorical monuments,” says University of Pittsburgh art historian Kirk Savage. “They can kind of mean anything.” It’s inevitable, he says, that the monument would “be appropriated for other reasons and uses.” (Besides, he adds, “it seems pretty easy to climb.”) In 1971, Vietnam War protesters scaled the monument and rested with flags at the top, looking like statues themselves. During the insurrection this past January, somebody slung a scarf around Victory’s neck and a guy wearing a cowboy hat and holding a bullhorn loomed over baby Mars, god of war.

The Peace Monument, in a photo taken between 1909 and 1919, once served as a streetcar stop.

(Library of Congress)

Contemporary peace memorials tend toward radical simplicity—an installation outside Oslo City Hall, where the Nobel Peace Prize is handed out, is a smile-shaped arc. But some artists see immense power in antique statuary. Krzysztof Wodiczko, who works with video projections and has beamed the faces of traumatized soldiers onto the Lincoln Memorial in New York City’s Union Square Park, says the Peace Monument’s human forms have a hold on us. “We have a special relationship to those statues. We identify with them. We animate them without knowing who they are. We want them to witness what we want to say. Sometimes we sit on their shoulders and put flags in their hands.”

In the days after the Capitol riot, a new face appeared at the Peace Monument: Brian Sicknick, the Capitol Police officer who died of injuries sustained in the mob attack. Mourners left photographs of him beside cut flowers and American flags. A cardboard sign said, “Rest in Peace.”

British troops torched the building during a chaotic 26 hours in the War of 1812. But the symbol of democracy stood

By Ted Scheinman

Twenty-six months after the United States declared war on Britain, 4,500 British troops under Maj. Gen. Robert Ross serve a humiliating defeat to U.S. forces at Bladensburg, Maryland. Ross orders the redcoats to march the six or more miles to Washington, D.C.

(Courtesy of Stephen Campbell)

President James Madison, who rode with the American troops at Bladensburg, leaves the field for the capital city but will promptly flee, as will his cabinet. About 90 percent of the population is gone by the time the enemy arrives.

( Library of Congress, Geography and Map Division)

Toward evening, American troops fire on British forces approaching the capital from the northeast, killing several soldiers and Ross’ horse. Still, the invaders prevail before nightfall and are able to raise the Union Jack over Capitol Hill.

(Sarin Images / Granger)

Inside the original Capitol, which was opened to Congress in 1800, British soldiers lay waste to the east side of the South Wing, home to the House of Representatives. The building is largely brick and sandstone, but they slather gunpowder paste on wooden supports and structures and ignite bonfires. The heat is so intense the roof falls in.

(Library of Congress)

In the North Wing (on the right of the diagram), soldiers burn the Library of Congress (3,000 volumes), torch the Senate chamber and topple marble columns. The heat nearly crumples exterior walls, some of which will be incorporated into a restored and expanded Capitol in coming decades.

(Library of Congress)

British Rear Adm. George Cockburn—who had wanted to burn far more of the city, before Ross declared private property off-limits—infamously stands atop the chair of the House speaker while whipping up his troops. But the occupation doesn’t last: A powerful rainstorm the next day prompts British troops to withdraw from the capital. Four months later, British and American delegates will sign the Treaty of Ghent, putting an official end to the war.

(Library of Congress)

#History

#02-2021 Science News #2021 Science News #Earth Environment #earth science #Environment and Nature #Nature Science #News Science Spies #Our Nature #outrageous acts of science #planetary science #Science #Science Channel #science documentary #Science News #Science Spies #Science Spies News #Space Physics & Nature #Space Science #History

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mkyujji · 3 years

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Venting

You ever come to the realization that you're self-sabotaging?

So, I’m being evicted from my residence of almost a decade because my landlord is selling the property. I have 60 days to get myself, my son, and my cat to somewhere that is Not Here.

My four most reasonable options are to Rent someplace new, to Buy someplace new, to get a relatively inexpensive RV to give us a place to live and some breathing room, or take my brother up on his offer to move in with him.

The latter offer is the only reason I'm even functional in the face of the mess I would be otherwise. It's an amazing safety net and a surprisingly sweet gesture, Love you BuBu.

But I cannot stress enough how little moving back to Texas appeals to me. I am queer and liberal. I have almost no friends that I don't work with and I only really hang out with like... two of those outside of work. Texas is fucking HOT. I do not miss it hitting 100° somewhere in April and not dropping til September, not even a tiny little bit. And it's probably one of the 5 states I'd least want to even visit while the pandemic is still going strong. And I really don't want to go backwards job-wise. I have actually run a few job searches in the general vicinity and the few I think I'd have a real shot at (I am DONE with foodservice, I don't give any fucks what anyone thinks about it) either pay a fraction of what I make now with shit benefits or they throw around a lot of buzz words that tell me that they're really only going to consider former cops or very recent former military.

So, Texas with the bro is an option that I am definitely glad to have on the table, but it's the last on the list for a reason.

Okay, so then there's renting. Ye gods, there really isn't. Renting here has always been a problem because of the way the rental market is catered solely to the military. Rent is expensive. Places insist on a renter making 3x’s the rent so they can weed out most of the non-military applicants. Half of the places I've looked into either don't allow pets or charge a 'pet rent' as well as a pet deposit and a couple of other random pet related fees. Like guys, that's why the pet deposit, but whatever. Like part of me would prefer to rent just because of the familiarity and the lesser responsibility. Like, if something goes wrong with your apartment, the buck does not stop with you. It stops with the landlord. And that? That's nice. Familiar and safe(r). I like that. Most of the places I can afford are single bedroom and while the spawn and I can live with that, most of those listings are bitchy about "1 bedroom, 1 occupant unless a couple!" (or I even saw one or two strongly insisting 1b/1o). And who's to say another landlord won't sell the property out from under me again? >_>. Also, there's so few rentals even available currently - at any price.

The RV is my spawn’s preferred choice. We've scoured the local markets and we've found a few rigs we could maybe scrounge up funds for if we work at it. Nice ones, too. Like, I've lived in much shittier actual houses. And there's an RV park neatly between where the spawn and I each work that would mean neither of us would have to drive/be driven to work. That alone would save me a few hours of sleep and stress. The monthly fee isn't anymore than the rent on this place. Cheaper maybe, when factoring in that utility hookups that are included vs the house expenses. Of course, RVs can run through massive amounts of gas and propane, the former less of if you're parked the entire time, but the later even more in that case. There are a few listings I've found that are rigged with solar panels or rigged for solar. That drops the propane a lot according to my research. And if I were to do the build-a-house thing later, it'd give us a roof over our heads while we got that done. Or if we suddenly did end up choosing the Texas option later for some reason, that trip could made easily and in relative comfort. This option allows for the most long-term flexibility, but there's a lot of risk involved just in that I haven't worked on an engine in over 20 years and an RV and a car are very different. So, I keep vacillating violently between thinking this is the very best option possible and that this is Russia and I am Napoleon. I'm giving myself whiplash at this point.

Which leaves the very last option. Buying. There are two major personal points here and boy are they contradictory. #1 - I would absolutely love to own my own place where everything was decided on by ME. My vision. My paradise. Ideally, actually built by me (you know what I mean, don't give me that look). A place I can leave my kids that they'll be able to visit (or live in for the one that lives with me) and remember me and what I love. #2 - I am also terrified of owning my own place. Like, on a trauma level. Events of my childhood showed me the ugly side of what owning a place can do to people. The idea of how horribly, horribly wrong it can all go leaves me shaky and nauseous and unable to sleep. The first time it happened, I attributed it to the fact that I was already deeply unhappy in my marriage and the idea of owning a home with him was what was causing it. Like, one more tie that I couldn’t cut, I guess. And it probably added to it, but the entire ordeal that is buying and owning a house in the US is its own trigger. I can't even count the number of times I've started this process and stalled out before it even got off the ground. Either I put off the initial calls until I forget or it gets too awkward to bother with or I get so nitpicky about tiny details that the process doesn't get very far before everyone is fed up. I put off steps until it undoes the whole thing. It's probably just as well that the current prices would take me out of the running anyways.

If I make it to July without an ulcer, I will count myself very, very lucky.

#IRL #I'm being evicted and it sucks

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froggycatvest · 4 years

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Title: There’s a cafeteria? Words: 1200 Ships: None Warnings: None Characters: Benrey, Gordon, Tommy, Dr. Coomer, Bubby Part 5 of 5 Part 1 HERE

----

...when Benry went to follow, Gordon stepped in front of him with a firm, “Not you.”

He had held up his hand to stop him, but Benry walked into it instead. He wanted to see things get burned. Gordon was strong, though, and the hand against his chest stopped him.

“That was a lot of keys you had.” He sounded suspicious. “What are they for?”

“Doors.”

“What kind of doors.”

“Locked doors.”

Gordon suddenly made an angry noise, gripping hard at Benry’s vest.

“I’m going to--!” He stopped and took in a deep breath, eyes smashing shut. When he opened them, there was tenseness to his jaw. “Look. All I’m saying is those had better not be keys to unlock the sheer multitude of locked doors we encountered the entire way here, because if I have to hear that we could have escaped way earlier than this, I’m going to just--”

“You’re gonna what?” Benry goaded him, tilting his head to stare at him, eyes half-lidded. “You wanna fight?”

Gordon exhaled, showing teeth. “Yeah? You wanna go? Is that it?”

There was something in his eyes that made Benry feel that he would. That he’d fight. If pushed further, maybe. Benry didn’t want that.

“You shouldn’t if you’re hungry.”

Gordon blinked at that, then looked over his shoulder at Dr. Coomer stirring the pot, Tommy sitting on the counter, and Bubby standing on it to scrounge through the cabinets. Tommy waved at them.

“It’s almost done,” he called. “Stop arguing.”

All the tension drained from Gordon instantly as he whined out, “He started it. And you knew he had those keys the whole time, Tommy.”

“He’s our security guard, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said patiently. “He Guards and Secures important things.”

“I mean, yeah, but.” Gordon gravitated towards Tommy, only able to focus on one person at a time as he left Benry behind. “You really trust him?”

“Of course.”

“Just like that, huh?” Gordon replied in wonderment. “You gotta tell me what you see in him.”

Tommy tilted his head a bit. “But you’re nice to him.”

Gordon’s face cringed like he was in pain. “Don’t remind me,” he complained. He took a breath. “Aren’t you mad at what he did? He left you to fend for yourself. He put you in danger.”

Tommy’s eyes lowered. “Yeah…” He perked up. “But he helped turn off the alarm. And he found the cafeteria. We get to eat now.”

Dr. Coomer clicked off the stove. “Baby steps, Gordon,” he said gently. “We all have to do that for you, I believe.” A pause. “If you want, that is.”

Gordon’s face scrunched up again, for a different reason this time. “...Guys.”

Bubby stopped what he was doing to frown at him. “Are you all having a moment down there?”

Gordon gave a laugh like he was just realizing how ridiculous the whole situation was. “Sure,” he said, holding out his arms like he wanted a group hug. “Want to join us?”

Bubby looked around at all of them. Dr. Coomer held up his arms with an encouraging, “I’ll catch you.”

“I can get down myself,” Bubby insisted, while Tommy got excited.

“But it’s more fun to Jump,” he said, straightening up, and Benry shouted.

“Do a stage dive!”

Gordon gave Benry a look, before shrugging. “You know what?” He turned back to grin at Bubby. “Sure. We’ll catch you.”

Dr. Coomer kept it up, smiling. “Only a few people have died performing a stage dive. The odds are in your favor.”

Bubby crouched down. “I don’t think so. I’m not taking the chance before I can get something to eat.”

He brought down some bowls and handed them to Dr. Coomer, while Tommy let out a disappointed aw.

Benry joined them, mimicking how Gordon and Dr. Coomer had their hands up. “Tommy jump.”

Tommy immediately stood up on the counter, towering over everyone. “Are you sure?”

“Tommy,” Gordon said with concern, offering him his hand. “I know you trust him, but I really don’t think he’s strong enough to hold you up.”

“No fun allowed,” Benry complained, eyes boring straight into Gordon’s, while Dr. Coomer nodded.

“A fussbudget, one would say.”

“Someone has to be!” Gordon pointed out as Tommy took his hand and hopped to the floor. “I’m trying to be a responsible leader here.”

No one said anything.

“I’m doing good, right?” Everyone stared, unmoving, and Gordon gave an exasperated look. “Guys.”

“The food is ready,” Dr. Coomer said brightly, ladling soup into bowls.

Gordon spoke to himself as he went back to his box of cereal. “Well, I think I’m doing pretty good.”

Benry approached him at the counter where he was pouring the cereal into the two bowls from earlier. “You’ve got, uh…” He pointed at the bowls. “You’re eating for two, huh?”

Gordon looked him dead in the eye. “One. Is. For. You.”

“Oh I don’t eat.”

“You don’t eat.” Gordon sounded like he just accepted it as fact. “You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You don’t die. What else can you do?”

Benry ignored him to tear open a new milk carton.

“Oh?” Gordon had such a smarmy smug expression as he held up his bowl to him. “Being nice? Is that a thing you can do?”

He was just going to pour milk. To calm him down. Milk calms down people. Warm from the microwave or something. Why was he being so rude?

“Dude, dude!”

Benry’s eyes focused back to the moment. The first thing he noticed was Gordon’s incredulous expression. Next, the bowl overflowing with milk in the other’s outstretched hand. His own bored tone reached his ears.

“Oh bro. You spilled.”

Gordon snapped at him. “You were the one pouring!”

“Gordon,” Dr. Coomer chided. “Don’t waste. The rest of us want some, too.”

And Benry chimed in. “You have to pay for that.”

As expected, Gordon shot him a look, mouth working around many things he probably wanted to say at once. “I--why do I have to pay for it when you spilled it?” His mood changed immediately as another thought hit him. “Wait, do we even have to pay? Aren’t the meals here free? Aren’t we government funded?”

“That's the government for you,” Dr. Coomer replied cheerfully. “Nothing is free. Same as your hev suit. It's not yours, after all.”

“Right.” Gordon pointed at Benry. “See, if you got milk on this and damaged it, you'd have to pay for it.”

“Too bad.”

“Too bad? This suit is expensive. Probably more than what you’re paid in, like...an entire year.”

Benry kept quiet, looking around the room. It was probably true. It was probably true of every piece of equipment in Black Mesa. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t paid well.

Benry found himself turning his back to him, his words coming out quick with a click of his tongue. “Yeah so?”

There was a pause between them, and when Gordon spoke he sounded genuinely apologetic. “Did I hurt your feelings? Oh, jeez. Benrey, I didn’t mean it. Look, I bet it cost more than my paycheck, too. I don't even know what I get paid.”

He approached, patting Benry on the shoulder, being all friendly like he always did, always doing that encouraging talk of his. “Hey, fight the system. Demand better pay. Especially now, you know, considering all this...aliens and shit. Don’t you get hazard pay?”

Benry glanced at the hand on his shoulder, but let him keep it there. “I think you’ve been the hazard.”

Gordon shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Danger just follows me, huh?”

He patted him again, before sitting down with the others at the table. He waved him over.

“Come on. Sit down and eat.”

#hlvrai #FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT #nah they behave

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reaganjenelle · 4 years

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Louder Than Words

An Anders x OC soulmate AU nobody asked for, but didn't know they needed.

Hi there, possible reader! I'm reaganjenelle. I can tell you're on the fence about reading this Fan fiction. Don't worry, you're not alone. I promise that if you try it, there's a strong possibility that you'll enjoy what you find. So, why don't you kick back, relax, and try something new? Enjoy.

Word Count: 2,284

Chapter 1. Kirkwall

Kirkwall, quite frankly, smelled like piss. Julia had half a mind to simply get back on the ship a return to Fereldan, blight be damned. But she wouldn't. Elric was here and now so was she. Julia took a moment to stretch her cramped muscles before slipping off the cargo ship unnoticed. The journey across the sea had been spent hiding amongst the crates and dodging the crew. It wasn't that she wasn't willing to pay for safe passage. She had, in fact, approached the captain about paying to be smuggled into the city. He was just too far up the Maker's arse to agree. Hadn't thought her coin was worth the risk of being caught. Little did he know Julia had hitched a ride anyway, and he was short the gold he would have had. Not to mention the captain was now convinced one of his crew members had been sneaking extra rations.

The docks were crowded with sweaty workers shoving past each other. It took little effort for the rouge to blend in. Everyone was too busy minding the cargo to pay a lone woman any mind. The first thing Julia decided she needed was to find a hot meal and a stiff drink. A surly looking man grunted directions to her for a tavern in Lowtown only after she had begrudgingly handed over a few coins in return. It was hard to see the appeal of Kirkwall for Julia. As previously stated, it smelled something awful, the buildings had seen better days, and the people seemed just as run down. It wasn't just that they all sorely needed to bathe, it was the way they carried themselves. As if they were caught between looking out for pickpockets and trying to find any easy target for themselves. A woman leaned against the door of an extremely run down house, leering at those who passed by and promised a good time for very little coin. A scabbed sore warned on her mouth. Julia wrinkled her nose and passed by more quickly. But not before her deft fingers found coin in a distracted man's pocket. Alleys broke off in several directions. Some were empty, some held people engaged in shady dealings, and still others worked as homes.

A child huddled by himself in ally opening, clothes threadbare and eyes downcast. He took shelter beneath a soiled sheet stuffed between cracks to hold it up. Behind him was a crust of moldy bread with small bites taken in it. It appeared the boy was trying to ration it. A tin can sat empty between his dirty feet; it was most likely used to catch rain water so he could drink. No one paid him any mind. Julia felt a twinge of guilt as she went to pass by, feet hesitating. It was like looking into a mirror.

"Hey, kid." The child flinched before looking up. His dark eyes were slightly glazed and he had trouble focusing on anything. His pale lips were chapped from dehydration and his cheeks were sunken in from lack of nutrition.Julia squatted in front of him before she could really understand how she managed to find herself there. "Got a name?"

He nodded mutely.

She raised an eyebrow. "Wanna tell me what it is?"

His face flushed and he croaked, "Daniel, serah."

Julia 'hmmed'. "Where are your parents?"

Daniel looked down at his boney hands. "Gone."

"Are you hungry?"

His head snapped up, eyes wide. "W-what?"

Julia ran her fingers through her hair. "Are you hungry? I've always hated eating alone."

A spark of hope ignited in his eyes. "Me, too."

"Well then." Julia stood and gestured for him to do the same. "Why don't we find something to eat together?"

He got shakily to his feet. The rouge winced at his boney frame, but said nothing. Instead, she held out her hand for him to take and led the way to Lowtown. Why she had decided to take him with her was beyond her. She couldn't waste time trying to play the good guy. Not with Elric so close. The kid was a liability and expense she didn't need.

One meal, that's all I can do for him.

The tavern was easy enough to find, what with the sign being a hanged man and all. Julia wrinkled her nose when she stepped inside. The aroma of stale beer and vomit sucker punched her senses as soon as she crossed the threshold. It was mostly empty, save for the few drunkards passed out randomly throughout the establishment. All things considered, it wasn't the worst pub she had been to. Who knows? Maybe they had great mead and even better stew. Julia sat the kid down at a relatively clean table before making her way to the bar.

The bartender was wiping down a dirty mug with an equally dirty rag. "Wha' can I get for ya, love?"

"Food for two, a stiff drink, and two glasses of water." Julia said, sliding a few coins across the grimy surface to him.

Cups in hand, she sat down at the table and slid the water over to Daniel. He hesitated before taking a large drink draining it dry. Julia hid her smile by taking a swig of her own drink and pushing the second cup of water toward him. She grimaced at the burn followed by a bitter after taste. Maybe she should have gotten a water, too. The pair sat in silence until a stern looking barmaid practically slammed down two bowls of mutton and a stale loaf of bread on the table before walking away.

"Well," Julia slid a bowl over to herself. "Dig in, kid." He needed no further invitation. "Whoah, slow down!" Julia laughed. Daniel looked up at her, cheeks stuffed full of anything he could get his hands on. "There's no rush. You'll make yourself sick at the rate you're going." He swallowed thickly and did his best to slow his pace. Satisfied, Julia began to eat as well.

The mutton wasn't bad. It wasn't good, but it wasn't terrible either. It was far better than the scraps of food she had managed to scrounge up on the ship, and far more satisfying. Daniel finished before her, and fan his dirty fingers along the bottom of the dish. Which an internal sigh, she pushed her half eaten food across the wooden table.

"Here. Not as hungry as I thought I was."

He looked from her to the mutton and back in disbelief. "But…"

"Don't get you smalls in a twist. I had plenty." Julia said, taking a large gulp of her mead.

When Daniel finished off the last of the food, he looked up at her and offered a small smile. "Thank you."

Julia shoved down the warm feeling his simple statement had given her. "Yes, well. I wanted the company and you had nothing better to do. Win, win."

Except it wasn't. She had spent more than she should have. It was hard enough taking care of herself. Time was wasting. She had enough on her plate without him to worry about.

Clearing her throat, she stood. "I should get going. See you around, kid."

He continued to sit there even after Julia paid for a room and left the tavern behind. She put him out of her mind. He had food in his belly, now. He would be fine. Probably. Or not. Whatever, it wasn't her problem.

Julia wandered around Kirkwall aimlessly, carefully swiping coin from several pockets on her way. The higher she went into the city, the cleaner it became, and the more snobbish people became. They made for the easiest targets. Coins jingled happily in her purse, steadily growing in number. While raising funds (read: stealing), Julia also made inquiries about the Circle. A particularly chatting vendor explained they kept mages in the Gallows. It was a small island like structure in the bay that had once held the Tevinter slaves. A fortress that now housed mages. A large host of templars guarded them, the biggest in the Free Marches, she was assured. When asked about how to get there, the man simply blinked at her.

"Why would you want to go there?"

Why, indeed. "My brother is Templar. I traveled here to visit him." I lied.

With an understanding smile, he explained about the boats reserved for visiting the prison, and gave her an apple for free. "My thanks to your brother. For keeping us safe.

Shadows grew longer as the sun began its slow descent behind the tops of buildings. Leaning against a stone banister, Julia mulled over what she had learned. The templars were the biggest problem she faced. With so many, it would make her goal harder to achieve. Not only that, but the Gallows being an island would make a clean getaway difficult. She also had to account for securing passage to and from the fortress, then out of Kirkwall. Frustrated, Julia pushed off the railing. Stupid blight. If it had waited just a few more weeks to reach them… but it hadn't. Now here she was, having to rebuild her plans. It was terribly annoying.

Finding the red lantern district in the middle of the richest part of town gave Julia a small sense of amusement. She would have thought it would be in Lowtown if only to keep the undesirables separated. She supposed it would too unbearable for rich folk to have to sully themselves by being seen with the rabel.

The Blooming Rose was filled with people looking for comfort in others. While Julia had never paid for company, she could certainly see the appeal when she saw a muscular young man lead a customer into another room with a seductive grin. Shaking her head wistfully, she made her way to the counter.

"What's your poison, darling?" The woman behind the counter was beautiful. Her long hair curled loosely around her bare shoulders. It was a wonder her sleeveless dress was able to keep her ample bosom from spilling out of top.

"How much for a hot bath?" Julia asked, appreciating the view she was given when the woman leaned forward.

"Looking for someone to wash your back?"

A wide smirk appeared on Julia's lips. "Not tonight, just a private bath."

"Shame." The woman said, a pout on her pretty face. She gave the price and Julia handed over the money.

The bathing room was steamy, and a large bath was built into the floor. The rouge folded her clothes neatly before sinking into its warm depths. Weeks of dirt melted off her skin. It was refreshing to scrub her skin until it was pink. Julia let her mind wander and found herself thinking of Elric. It had been years since she had seen him. Nine years, in fact. He wouldn't be the little boy she remembered, no, her little brother was a man now. She wondered if he thought of her. Of what she had done. Julia sighed as she massaged scented oils into her hair. There was no use dwelling on it. Once she freed him they would talk. She would explain why she had done it, how she had been weak. But she wasn't weak anymore. Now she could take care of him, of both of them. He would see.

Julia left the brothel feeling refreshed. Her hair was left down to dry as she made the trek back to Lowtown. Perhaps she would grow it out again. It currently rested just below her chin due to an unfortunate accident involving a nug and a horde of dark spawn. The mousey colored locks hung limply, and would continue to do so even after it was completely dry. At least when it was long she could braid it back. At the moment it was too short to do much of anything with.

The streets were empty aside from the occasional thug looking for easy victims. It was simple enough to avoid them buy sticking to the shadows. All Julia wanted when the Hanged Man rose to greet her was an ale and sleep. Food be damned. The bath had her too relaxed to care for much else, and that apple had been far better than anything the tavern had. That is, until she was him. Daniel sat exactly where she had left him, surrounded by rowdy drunks ignoring him. When he spotted Julia, a relieved smile lit up his face.

He's like a stray dog. Julia though as she waded through the crowd towards him. Feed them once and they never leave.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back." He said when she had reached him.

Julia forced the smile that threatened to appear away. This was a problem. The kid now thought she was some kind of good person who had taken him in off the streets. She wasn't. He wasn't her responsibility, and her act of kindness had already been fulfilled for the week, thank you. She needed to tell him to scam, to find someone else to leech off of.

"So, you waited here all day?" She asked instead.

He looked down at the table top and mumbled, "Was that bad?"

Yes. The last thing she needed was someone who needed her. Julia sighed and asked instead, "Hungry?"

His face lit up and he nodded quickly.

Later that night, she looked down at the boy who slept soundly in her bed. One night, then he was gone. She would give him some coin in the morning and send him on his way. Mind made up, Julia settled deeper into the rickety chair and tried to get some sleep.

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belladonnaandulriched · 3 years

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the artist | chapter ten

I finally got a hold of Lars later that evening, and right before I went to bed no less. I placed the set of graphite pencils Joey had given me on my desk and I positioned them around a bit so they were leaned up against a small stack of books there, right underneath my window, and I wondered if I could convince Dave and Stone to send me one of their plants for an added mood to it. I still wondered about their garden and the mechanics behind it, and in particular why the two of them were so adamant on ensuring no outsiders got a hold of it. Maybe that was why they were so kind to me on that first impression: Dave figured I hailed from around there and thus he made that assumption.

But after I had changed my clothes and ran a brush through my hair, I picked up my phone and dialed Lars' number. I figured Chris had fallen asleep at that point so I wished not to bother him. I knew Lars had had a long day that day given his speech slurred a bit. But it was in fact nice to hear his voice again after a time. He cleared his throat twice in the first minute alone I was on the phone with him.

“Will and I are figuring that it's best that we let Joey stay in the upstairs loft with the both of us,” he was saying at one point. “At least until one of us can travel back home—you know, I can go back to San Francisco.”

“Is there not enough money for you guys to go around?” I asked him as his line crackled a bit.

“Not at all. I have some and Will scrounges up a little bit from the bottom of his bank account, but that's about it. Joey spent almost the rest of his money on those pencils he got for you.”

I swallowed at the sound of that.

“I should probably tell you,” he started up again, “William—doesn't really have a lot of money anyway.”

“I thought so,” I confessed to him. “I mean, just hearing that he's living in the upstairs loft above the speakeasy and whatnot, and he's living there with you and Joey.”

“Well, I mean, he's almost out of money. He showed me the amount in there at the moment and it's alarming to see. He hopes to get this place open before he runs out of funds entirely.”

“So what're you thinking?” I asked him as I crawled under the covers of my bed. I started to wonder if Joey getting me those pencils were more than just a gift for me.

“Well, I am glad that you called when you did and I thank you for doing so. We need you here with us, to help us out. I have no idea what your situation is but we need you. We need your genius and your prowess—” He was cut off by the sound of something. “—huh? Oh, I'm speaking to Holly.”

He returned to me.

“Darling Joseph says hi.”

“Hi, Joey,” I said in a sweet voice. He was sweet to me, and thus I needed to return the favor.

“Hey, Hahlls!” he called out in a broken voice.

“So you guys want me there? When?” I asked Lars again once he returned to me.

“Well, preferrably tomorrow. That's how badly we need you here.”

“Bring your digital stuff with ya, too,” Joey added from the background.

“Yes!” Lars chimed in. “Bring your digital enhancement stuff, too. We need to see you at your fullest potential and at your most vulnerable. You gave yourself through your art when we modeled for you. The only way we can succeed is if we have you with us.”

“Sounds like a lot,” I admitted, even though if I had survived the pandemic, I could bring that speakeasy forth and I could help turn things around for the three of them.

“Well—I am sure you know what to do,” he assured me. “I believe in you. Joey believes in you, as does Will. We believe that you can lead the way and we shall be right behind you every step of the way.”

I smiled when he said that and I bode him good night before hanging up. I set my phone down on my desk and then I reached underneath my pillow for my sketchbook. I was about to doodle something real quick when I got an idea upon looking at those graphites again. I set my sketchbook down on my lap and reached for my phone again.

I pressed on the number in my address book and brought it up to my ear. I waited out one ring, and then—

“Hey, Holly,” Dave replied in a soft voice; he, too, sounded tired.

“Hey, Dave, can I ask you a question before you or I fall asleep?”

“Sure, what's up?”

“Do you have any extra flowers?”

“As a matter of fact, we do, yeah!” he answered. “Why, would you like some?”

“Yeah, maybe one of your lilies or one of your sunflowers. A little something to brighten up my room a bit. You know, like that.”

“I think we can do that, although Chris called me earlier today and said he wants to do something nice for you, too. He told me that he's kind of in the same boat as Joey, though, like his savings are starting to fall by the wayside.”

“Oh, man.” I frowned at the sound of that.

“Yeah—that's according to him, anyways. Stone and I are doing alright, but a few bucks for us goes a long way whereas when you're living in a place like the heart of Seattle like he is, it's pretty brutal.”

I cleared my throat. “Did Lars tell you what's going on with them?” I asked him in a small voice.

“He did, yeah. And I would know about that, too. After Nirvana, I was livin' in a van and I had no motivation to do anything.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I took a good long look at myself in the mirror and said, 'I'm gonna live every day as though it were my last.' And I did, and I have been. The pandemic also helped bring that to fruition. You know, the whole thing that the virus could infect you at any given second and it could kill you within a day.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” I said as I received flashbacks to when news of the virus hitting the mainland United States entered my mind right then.

“So what kind of flowers did you say? A lily or a sunflower?”

“Yeah, but I'm good with either one. Plants inspire me as much as music does.”

“And new ideas, I would reckon,” he added; I heard the rustling of a sleeping bag on his end and I knew he and Stone were ready for bed, too.

“Absolutely!” I declared. “And I dunno 'bout you but after the pandemic, I'm more than happy to go forth with a new way of life. I know my parents are.” And as soon as I said that, I regretted within a few microseconds of saying it. I hoped he didn't take it the wrong way.

“Say 'hi' to them for me when you get a chance,” he said with a little chuckle.

We said good night to each other and hung up at the same time. That time, I set my phone on the desk and picked up my sketchbook again. I decided to just use a mechanical pencil for this late night drawing and save those nice graphites Joey got me for something a little more important. I leaned back with the book sprawled over my lap and proceeded to do a study of hair: Chris' luxurious black waves, Joey's beautiful jet black corkscrews, Will's fine but fuzzy kinks, Lars' smooth feathery tendrils, and I even tried my hand at Stone's fine head of hair and Dave's delicate blond locks.

I doodled until I fell asleep with the book on my lap. I woke up at some time early in the morning and set the book on the desk, and lay down onto my back. I fell asleep for about a few hours when I was jarred awake by the sound of my mom's voice.

“Holly!”

I opened my eyes and peered about the room. The sun had risen just enough to bring some fresh new light in there, but I knew it was still early. I rubbed my eyes when she called my name again.

I rolled out of bed and darted out of the room to see what was the matter. I skidded into the living room where she had taken her seat on the couch and leaned forward as though something intense took place on the television. She, too, had woken up by the tired look upon her face and her robe wrapped around her body.

“What's wrong?” I sputtered as my voice broke from sleep and from fear.

“The virus came back,” she told me in a grave voice.

“Oh, no,” I muttered. I looked on at the news report to find that it was in fact true: the corona virus had returned with a vengeance. Cases were spiking all over the remnants of the country in the past few days alone.

“Yeah, the current vaccine isn't working anymore because the virus behaved like a regular, actual pathogen and it mutated again.”

“Which means...” My voice trailed off.

“You can't really go out now, unless it's important,” my dad added from the kitchen.

But helping out Will, Joey, Lars, and Chris was important. It was imperative that I be there at the speakeasy to do the dirty work for them. I promised Lars I would be there that day: if I had to sneak out with my mask on over my face, then I would have to do that.

This virus and the pathetic response to it singlehandedly ruined their lives as musicians: I needed to ensure that it wouldn't ruin my life as an artist, much less an artist who wanted to save them from the horrors of poverty.

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mrs-dragneel-stark-solo · 4 years

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Unforseen Chasm

Part 1 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 2191 Warnings: Language, Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93 what was first a simple "what if" moment turned into a two year writing session and I've never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

___________

Once in a lifetime, and sometimes not even then, people meet someone who can be described as their better half. The person who knows them better than anyone. The person who completes them. Sometimes it can be found in a lover, or a sibling, or sometimes...once in a blue moon, it can be found in just a friend -- a stranger you cross paths with one day. A stranger that eventually means more to you than anyone else in the world.

That’s how it was for you and Shannon.

It was freshman year of college when she walked into your life. The two of you were set together as roommates. She had a touch of pluckiness to her, drive that you’d never witnessed, intelligence that rivaled yours, and a take no shit attitude.

Of course, she was shy at first, so were you. But within just a few minutes, you realized that you two were destined to be best friends. Her major lied in anatomical mutation and molecular engineering with a minor in foreign language. Meanwhile, you majored in physics and engineering, minoring in Norse mythology.

Shannon definitely teased you for that. She wondered why or how you would ever need that, but your reasoning was simply that you enjoyed it. If you were going to spend thousands upon thousands studying something for a career for the rest of your life, the least you could do was study one thing that was a little different that fascinated you, even if was just for four years.

Your areas of study may have overlapped, but your upbringing didn’t. Shannon had parents, who loved her, and according to her “sent her to a prestigious academy to refine all skills”. And you saw these skills in the way she moved, talked, carried herself, and focused her skills. She was all things a lady should be. In fact, she did so well in this so called “Red Room”, that Howard Stark (founder of Stark Industries) caught wind of her accomplishments and decided to invest further in her. He gave her a full ride scholarship to any college she wanted, to study whatever she wanted. He thought maybe, one day, she might be of use to his son Tony.

In fact, they became good friends too. Tony and Shannon, that is. He was a few years older than her, but he helped her with her work, and became curious as to why Shannon was always hanging around his dad’s company. It didn’t take a genius to see why Shannon was selected -- she was elite, one of a kind.

You on the other hand, you were the nerd. The little bit dorky type. All you ever really loved was science, math, technology. You were raised by foster parents, but they weren’t the greatest. They didn’t ever give you any attention past making sure the foster money cleared for you. The only person you had was Remy, another boy that lived in the foster family with you. Kids were in and out of that house for years, but you and Remy seemed to stay, that is, until you left for college. College was where you met Shannon and her family, and ever since then, Shannon’s family was now your family, making you far closer to Shannon than you’d ever been to anyone besides Remy. You went to her house for holidays, even met with Tony a handful of times.

Once the two of you graduated college and decided on grad school, you didn’t want to separate. Four years of living together had made you two almost inseparable. Not wanting to lose each other just yet, you grabbed an apartment only thirty minutes away from your graduate school. Graduate school was surprisingly a breeze, and when you completed it, the two of you moved into a studio apartment together.

After being best friends for nearly a decade, you got a dog together, both of you animal lovers and you thought it might add some more character to your home. And he certainly did.

While the both of you, yes, were involved in STEM, for the most part, your paths slightly diverged.

After graduation from graduate school for both of you, Tony Stark offered a job to Shannon at his company as his assistant. She would help oversee nearly every operation, invention, gizmo, gadget. All of it, would be under her supervision. Through this, she became good friends with Dr. Bruce Banner, and Tony, being at the labs day in and day out with them.

It was actually in those labs that her… well… accident happened. A lab malfunction caused a chemical gas to react with her molecular structure causing a strange reaction. By strange you meant, well, unusual. She developed a mutation, but not like a third eye, or another pinky. No, she gained the ability to manipulate the weather and drain people of their powers. It was the most magnificent thing to watch. She accidentally discovered her powers at home, in the kitchen, and you witnessed it, but you swore yourself to secrecy for her. You could never hurt her and betray her like that.

Tony knew, of course, because he had to help her figure out what was wrong with her. And Bruce was an expert in lab experiments gone wrong. Between those two helping her control her powers, and your emotional support, she was just like a normal person -- until you pissed her off.

Just another crowning jewel on an already nearly perfect woman. She was the epitome of a femme fatale -- beautiful, genius, deadly, and powerful beyond human strength.

As for you? Your work placed you in the field. Your physics took you to some crazy locations and you picked up work wherever you could find it. You loved physics, you were good at it, damned good. But you weren’t winning Nobel prizes, you weren’t heading huge projects for Stark Industries, you weren’t getting offers from MIT for research. No, you were scrounging for contract jobs, for little pick me ups with NASA. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, or that you were desperate for work. People knew of your work, you spoke at conferences, you were in high demand.

But by your dumb luck, it wasn’t you that ended up with the glitz, glam, and glory that came from working for Stark.

For the last few months you’d been in the field with Jane Foster - a highly respected physicist -- with barely any funding. The two of you could barely split the research grant you’d been given and you had to hire an intern. You were all the way out in New Mexico while Shannon was still in NYC, living the dream. You missed her like crazy, but this work you were doing was important… At least that's what you kept telling yourself…

____________

Jane and you had set up camp in Small Town, New Mexico, you’d been out here for a few weeks now. There were these strange atmospheric phenomenon that were going on that Jane felt were connected to the research the two of you were involved with. She called Dr. Selvig out to study it with you two, seeing as he was a pioneer in this field.

Just before you all headed out to the site, you decided to give Shannon a call, a strong case of homesickness hitting you.

You propped open your laptop and selected her contact and called. The familiar ring only went through twice before her wonderful face filled the screen.

Y/N! Hey!” she greeted delightfully.

“Hey!”

She stepped away from the computer and back to her workbench in Tony’s lab -- a very familiar sight to you.

“What’s up?”

“Just missing you. We’re about to go study that aurora again tonight, but Selvig is here now, so it’ll be another set of eyes,” you explained.

“Ah, yes, the light in the sky. Any headway on that?”

“None. Hopefully he’ll have some insight because I’m growing tired of staring at clouds each night. I’m not out here to be a storm chaser…”

“What’s this about storm chasing?” Tony suddenly said, entering your field of view.

“Hey, Tony,” you greeted in a friendly tone.

“Why don’t you ditch the desert and come to a real lab?” he asked as he walked backwards, looking at the camera before spinning to stand next to Shannon and work on the tool she was soldering. “You could have unlimited technology here. I could really use someone with your expertise on physics when it comes to landing gear for my suit. What do you say, Y/N? A real job, in air conditioning, not out in the dirt…?”

“Tempting,” you said with a smirk. “But I’m gonna stick to real work for now.”

“Did she just insinuate I don’t do real work?” Tony asked Shannon, pretending to be offended. She merely rolled her eyes and laughed, shaking her head.

“You two…” she lovingly chided. “When are you going to come home? I miss you. I need your world famous tacos.”

You laughed. “My tacos are trash and you know it.”

She returned the laugh before becoming serious again. “Seriously though. When? Things aren’t the same without you.”

You sighed, wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. I’m trying to get all this data, but since we have to wait every night… There’s no telling.”

“Well work hard,” she requested, sadness but understanding in her voice.

“I’m trying.”

“Seriously. Y/N, pick up the pace, I can’t take another week of this. She is killing the morale,” Tony remarked, gesturing to her with a tool.

“Okay, Tony, for you, I’ll try,” you said with heavy sarcasm, making the two of them smile. “Oh, shit, gotta go. Time to go watch the sky give me some pretty colors.” You rolled your eyes and told them goodbye before signing off of your laptop.

The four of you set off about twenty miles west from your little lab in the middle of town. You sat out there for several minutes, nothing happening. Selvig started to question Jane and you, and Darcy was getting restless. Jane was pleading that he just hold on a few more minutes. Finally, Darcy saw something and drew your attention to it.

This was no subtle aurora. This was… something else.

Jane ordered Darcy to drive, and all of you launched back into the camper full of equipment, bumping and knocking things as you went over the rough terrain of the desert. Darcy was pushing the camper to full speed, zooming towards the odd light in the sky when suddenly a funnel of light and wind swirled toward the ground. Jane was filming it all and you were taking in what you could.

Just as you were about to go through the tornado-like event, Darcy cut away from it.

“Darcy!” you shouted, needing to get inside this event.

“I’m not dying for six college credits!” she yelled before Jane tried to take the wheel from her.

The two of them fought over the steering wheel for a few seconds before -- THUD. You hit something… actually, you think it was someone. Darcy slammed on the brakes and all of you jumped out of the camper.

You ran over to a man lying on the ground as Jane said, “Do me a favor and don’t be dead.”

“I think legally that was your fault!” Darcy called.

“Get the first aid kit,” you commanded as you kneeled beside him. You grabbed his wrist and felt for a pulse -- there was a strong one, good. Next you looked at his face to examine any damage -- but before you could do that, you were taken aback by his beauty. He was… handsome, very handsome. Then he opened his eyes.

He jumped up, muttering and stumbling around. Jane noticed the markings on the ground, and you saw them too, and they should’ve been important to you, but right now all you could focus on was this stranger.

“Hammer...Hammer!” he suddenly yelled.

“Yeah we can tell you’re hammered, that’s pretty obvious,” Darcy noted.

Jane began trying to note the markings on the ground, telling Erik to look at them, but he was telling her they needed to get this stranger to a hospital. Your mind wasn’t exactly focused on either thing as you watched him. There was something… familiar about him, but you were sure you’d never seen him before in your life.

“Father! Heimdall! I know you can hear me! Open the Bifrost!” the man commanded, making your hair stand on end.

“Bifrost,” you muttered inaudibly. You’d heard that a lot. Actually you’d heard that in Norse mythology. Clearly this man was delusional and thought he was some Viking God…

“You! What Realm is this? Alfheim? Nornheim?” the man asked of Darcy.

“New Mexico?”

She pulled out her taser and aimed it at him. “Darcy, no!” you demanded.

“You dare threaten me, Thor, with so puny of a weapon?!”

She pulled the trigger and he dropped, just as a mortal man would, making some of your suspicion (and hope) fizzle out. Of course gods weren’t real, that was just silly.

Tag list:

@reigningqueenofwords

@cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you

@winchester-writes

@winchesterenthusiast

@georgialouisea

@deansdirtylittlesecretsblog

@dammit-stark

@livelikeawinchester

@sammysbuttcheek

@bran2015

@misz-adrii

@sandlee44

@womanxofletters

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@childishhoebinoo

@depressed-moose-78

@oldfreakything

@expecteddifferent

@girl-next-door-writes

@fanaticfanfiction

@dakotapaigelove

@sassy-spn-knight-of-hell

#marvel #MCU #loki x reader #tony x ofc #unforseen chasm #tony stark #thor #loki

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Power hungry president sucks the joy out of a local artist collective, ends up having to leave town.

A warning and an apology: this is long.

For background, my older sister, who I'll call Beth, is married to her high school sweetheart, who I'll call Craig. Beth is a pretty laid-back person, but she has one hot button trigger that causes her to have zero chill: anyone treating her beloved Craig poorly. Craig is very quiet and kind, just in general a mild-mannered, good-natured guy who's not great at standing up for himself, so he often attracts bad actors who view him as an easy mark, and because he alwaysassumes that other people have good intentions, he's not great at realizing when he's being mistreated. Beth is usually pretty relaxed about things, but she will basically turn into a howling, vengence-seeking banshee if anyone takes advantage of Craig.

Which brings us to ~2-3 years ago. Craig works a white collar job remotely, but he's an amateur artist/craftsman as a hobby. He does wood carving, a little bit of light metalwork, and 2-D art (mainly pencil sketches and pen-and-ink illustrations). He joined an artist's collective/makerspace where he could work on these hobbies around likeminded people, and he absolutely loved it. Whenever I hung out with him and Beth around this time, Craig would excitedly talk about the space and his projects there with infectious enthusiasm. His eyes were practically beaming out of his head whenever it came up. Beth joined too to learn/improve on her own hobby of fiber arts (mainly weaving and dyeing), but she was way less into it than Craig.

Some time after this, the president of the makerspace stepped down. It was essentially a volunteer position, though it came with a small (mostly symbolic) stipend. Since the makerspace had no actual staff, being president of the makerspace was a huge undertaking that involved being a one-man show for everything--for a start, coordinating with the board, keeping day-to-day operations going, and chasing the grants that kept the lights on. The current president just couldn't do it anymore with his full-time job, and announced his intention to vacate the role. Craig had come to love the makerspace, and he figured he had the resources to be an effective president. His job is entirely remote and deliverables-based (he can work whatever hours he wants as long as he's meeting his objectives), so he figured he could work out of the makerspace on his laptop and be available there if anyone needed him, and then do the heavy lifting of the role outside work hours. So he threw his hat in the ring.

Enter Jamie, a recent industrial design grad. Jamie was known to be flaky and very dramatic, but he'd been a member of the makerspace for a couple of years, almost as long as it had existed, and he felt entitled to be handed the presidency because he had seniority. He lost his damn mind when he heard that Craig had the audacity to go for the same role and complained to several members about how Craig was massively overstepping. This got back to Craig, who didn't really take it seriously, and it also got back to Beth, who, of course, was already irritated that Jamie was shit-stirring, but kept it to herself.

Long story short: Jamie won the member vote by a small margin, which Craig was very gracious about. Craig congratulated Jamie on the victory, then settled back into business as usual. Jamie... was not so gracious. He was enraged that Craig had gotten so many votes, and made it known to everyone that he was trying to figure out who had voted for Craig, and that they "would pay." Many of the members who had voted for Jamie passively because he'd been around forever and they didn't really know Craig were shocked by this behavior and started privately expressing regret to each other. But it gets worse. The makerspace had always offered members the perk of sponsoring workshops, meetups, and classes that anyone, members or non-members, could attend; all you had to do was sign up for the space on a first-come, first-served basis and kick up 20% of any profits to the makerspace if you charged a fee. Jamie started preemptively cancelling classes and workshops sponsored by anyone on his shit list by blocking off all available reservations during the regular times certain classes would be held. So Craig had traditionally sponsored a popular casting workshop on Wednesday evenings, and suddenly all Wednesday evenings were booked solid before the sign-up sheet was even available. He tried switching to Thursday, but after just one rescheduled workshop, suddenly Thursday evenings were out too. He tried Tuesdays, but because it was so early in the week, no one could come. Craig was bummed, but was still too good-natured to realize Jamie was intentionally sabotaging him out of spite, despite a righteously angry Beth trying to paint the picture for him of what was going on.

Beth. Was. Pissed. But she wasn't banshee pissed yet. Not until...Jamie selectively told the people on his shit list that member fees were going up. By almost double. He presented this as a makerspace-wide policy, but he made one crucial error. Somehow, Jamie never picked up on Craig and Beth being married, probably because he was never around both of them at the same time. So Beth flew under his radar, and he didn't raise her member fees, just Craig's and some of Craig's known friends, which confirmed to her that he was intentionally retaliating against Craig.

At this point, Beth had steam coming out of her ears and went to go talk to the board, since they have the power to cite or even throw out the president. They were uneasy about what she told them, but they said the president was technically allowed to set member fees, and they'd keep an eye on things.

Beth didn't really believe the board that they'd be keeping an eye on things, because Jamie was already dropping the ball all over the place, and the board wasn't making a peep over it. He wanted to be president because of the prestige, but he was never willing to do the work, so he just--didn't do it, and things were falling apart. The makerspace was getting late notices on unpaid bills, basic maintenance of the space wasn't getting done, materials weren't being restocked as they ran out, and the record keeping was nonexistent. It got so bad that the previous president who had stepped down because he couldn't handle the time commitment anymore (who had run the makerspace from its inception) quit as a member altogether because he was so saddened and disgusted by how bad things had gotten. He'd put his blood, sweat, and tears into this place, and stepped down from a role he treasured because he believed it was in the best interest of the organization, and now he had to watch Jamie run this place he loved into the ground out of sheer laziness. Craig was also losing his excitement over the makerspace, because he no longer had the space or resources to do the things he enjoyed there.

Beth, at this point, had gone from furiously angry to strategically angry. Suspecting that Jamie was being shady in more ways than one, she spent a few days being friendly to Jamie and sucking up to him, and then sprung on him the offer to help with the organization's bookkeeping and records. Still not realizing that she was Craig's wife, but knowing that she worked as a project manager in her day job, Jamie saw a chance to get some skilled work done at zero effort to himself, and he happily agreed, and gave her access to the makerspace's Google Sheets (not the most high-tech operation). For a little while, Beth bided her time, bringing the financial accounts up to date and continuing to be diabolically friendly to Jamie.

After a while of this, she calmly pulled together six copies of documents comparing the official organizational income that Jamie was reporting to her with the actual income, which Jamie was completely unaware she was tracking. These documents proved that Jamie was not only skimming money off the top of class and workshop fees, but was actively stealing money from the grants the makerspace was receiving, which is highly illegal. Beth gave the six board members her impeccably compiled proof of what was happening.

Almost immediately, the board "fired" Jamie and issued a lifetime ban from the makerspace. They were afraid of losing their grants if news came out about the gross misappropriation, so they didn't report Jamie to the authorities, but instead gave him 48 hours to return the stolen funds, the implication being that they would report him if he didn't. He panicked and complied, selling his car quickly to do it and scrounging up the difference in a ton of quick loans from friends, many of whom were makerspace members not aware of what was going on (no, he never paid them back). He's now persona non grata with all of his former friends, and while he still has a clean criminal record, word traveled pretty far in the local artist community, which means he was black listed from most of the industrial design jobs in the area and couldn't use his degree if he wanted to stay in town. As far as Beth and Craig knew, he moved away about six months after all this went down, but they haven't kept up with him, and don't know where he is.

The makerspace board realized their setup was bad, so instead of a single president, they restructured to have a panel of volunteer officers running the operation. Craig is one of them, and has happily thrown himself back into wood working and metal casting. Beth still helps out with the books.

TL;DR: Power hungry industrial designer tries to sabotage my brother-in-law's hobby; gets his life destroyed by my protective sister, who reveals that he's embezzling.

(source) (story by SisterSist)

#prorevenge #by SisterSist #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #revenge story #last10

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hazza-bear-care · 5 years

Text

Babie Crue (2/?)

Pairings: The Dirt!Motley Crue X OC!Reader. Eventual MGK!Tommy Lee X OC, Possible Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC, Dad!Motley Crue

Warnings: Cussing, drug use, drinking

Description: Cam eventually finds solace with Tommy’s family, who pity her after she reveals why she’s homeless with a newborn baby. Two months of peace later, Cam has a steady job as a waitress and Motley Crue is officially formed. Tommy starts to invite Cam out to their shows at Whisky A Go Go, and she eventually decides that a break is much needed. Of course, she shows up the night Doc enters the picture and Elektra starts pressuring for the band to go on tour.

~~~~~~~

Tommy, Mick, and Nikki found Cam about half an hour after she left the apartment. With some heavy convincing, Cam finally agreed the best choice was to live with Tommy at his parent’s house. When the Lee’s heard Cam’s story, recounted quickly and embellished with a lot of ‘fucks’ by none other than Tommy himself, they thankfully welcomed her into their home with open arms. Tommy scrounged up whatever he could money wise to help buy the basics for Grace, and was all too ready to give up his room and bunk on the couch. The band and Tommy’s parents helped find Cam a job within her first week of living in her new space.

In the time it took to get Cam set up comfortably, the band had found their front man, Vince Neil, and started performing at a club on the Sunset Strip called Whisky A Go Go. It was definitely a rocky start based on what was heard from Tommy when he called Cam at work after the shows, but she knew that if anyone deserved to be famous, it was Tommy.

“Cam, you should totally come to a show! Athena and my parents could watch Gracie and you can see your knight in shining armor in action!” Tommy yelled through the phone, helping Cam hear him over the loud thumping of the music in the background. Cam chuckled and ducked under a tray that a co worker was carrying.

“Tommy, you know I’d love to, but I feel like the second I leave Gracie, she’s going to get taken away from me. I can’t lose the only piece of me I have left because I was out partying with my best friend and his band.” A sigh escaped Cam’s lips as she ran her fingers through her dark brown hair. Cam was grateful of her boss for allowing long phone calls, but they were only to happen over her twenty minute break.

“Hey, Cam. Don’t think like that. You and I both know my family and I will fight tooth and fucking nail to protect you and that adorable fucking baby. I understand your fear, but I really want you to be around before we go fucking through the roof!” Tommy’s excitement made Cam smile sadly. She noticed a stern look coming from her manager, which led her to glance at her watch.

“Tommy, I have to go. My break is almost up. I’ll consider coming to one of your shows, alright?”

“Yeah, babe! Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you later, sweets!” Cam muttered a quick goodbye and hung up the phone, stumbling through the crowded kitchen and heading out to the dining room.

“Hello. My name is Cameo, and I’ll be your server this evening. Could I get you guys started with something to drink?” She muttered her spiel, quickly scribbling down the family’s drink orders. Checking on her other patrons, Cam threw crumpled bills into the cash register, returning change and receipts to departing groups, bidding them a farewell as they headed towards the door.

By the time she was able to leave, Cam had accumulated a decent amount of tips. She was good at her job, despite customers swearing at her for wrong orders that she accidentally swapped with another table. As she made her way home in the dark, discreetly brandishing a knife Nikki had gifted her, Cam thought about Tommy’s offer.

‘Maybe a show would be nice. I mean it’s just one show, and we’ve been safe for two months. I deserve a break.’ Cam’s thoughts were swimming so fervently around her head that she almost didn’t hear the shuffling behind her.

Hailing a taxi, Cam gave the driver Tommy’s address, only glancing at the person who followed her once a barrier was placed between them. Looking vaguely familiar, the car sped off before Cam could distinguish who had followed her. Throwing a twenty at the driver, grumbling at the instant decrease of food and diaper funds, Cam quickly ran inside her safe haven, involuntarily slamming the door behind her.

“Cameo? Is that you, dear?” Tommy’s mother, Voula, called from her place in the living room.

“Yeah, Voula, it’s me. Was Gracie any trouble?” Cam asked as she made her way to the older woman, getting comfortable on the couch after hanging up her coat and bag.

“She’s an angel, Cam. You should be proud to be her mother.” A warm smile spread across Voula’s face.

“Believe me, I am. I have a favor to ask you though: do you think you could watch Gracie longer than usual this weekend? I really want to watch Tommy’s band play, especially because he seems so excited about it.”

“Of course, dear. You deserve a break.” Thanking her, Cam hugged the woman who took her in and bid her a goodnight as they both turned in to sleep. Stripping her uniform, Cam silently changed into her sleepwear and looked at her daughter sleeping peacefully in the bassinet Athena had dug up from the depths of the garage.

Humming to herself, Cam flicked on a flashlight, opening up a book that she had loved since high school: The Secret Garden. Unfortunately, Cam’s mind wandered back to the man who was following her. Eventually she snapped out of it when she realized her eyes were drooping intensely. Cam made herself comfortable in the bed, breathing in the scent that was caked into the sheets covering Tommy’s bed. Cam soon found herself asleep, dreaming of nothing but a high school aged Tommy and Gracie.

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Cam awoke to Grace’s soft cries. Hopping out of bed, she scooped her baby out of the bassinet. A knock on the door caused the mother to jump slightly, chuckling silently as she rocked Grace gently.

“Come on in,” Cam called to the door, hearing it open with a slight creak.

“Hey, sweets. I heard Gracie and figured I’d help you a little today.” Tommy entered and handed Cam a bottle filled with the exact amount of formula Grace had started eating as she rounded six months.

“Tommy, you didn’t have to do that! Thank you though,” Cam muttered. The trio sat together on the bed as Cam began feeding Grace. The baby girl babbled as she suckled against the bottle happily, grasping the sides with her knuckles.

“How did you manage to get the greatest thing out of the shittiest relationship?” Tommy whispered, brushing his long fingers over her tiny feet, causing the baby to giggle at his touch.

“I honestly have no idea, Tommy. Hey guess what?” Cam responded, turning her attention to the man next to her. Tommy hummed, signalling for Cam to continue. “I’m coming to your show tonight!”

“Really?! Jesus, Cam that’s great! What made you change your mind?” Tommy asked, his brown eyes shining brightly with excitement.

“I was on my way home from work and I figured I deserved a break. It’s okay that I’m coming, right?” Cam suddenly found herself questioning if this was really a good idea.

“Of course it is, Cam. Why else would I have invited you to every show?” They sat in silence after that, the only sounds filling the air being Grace’s grunts of happiness as she chowed down. Tommy stared at the two girls, utterly in love with the beautiful figures sitting beside him. He had dreamed countless times in school of the very moment he was witnessing, of course baby not included, but she was an amazing bonus. As Grace finished her bottle, Tommy gestured for Cam to hand over the infant, silently telling the mother to get ready for the day.

“I have to go to work. I convinced my manager to give me tonight off if I switched my closing shift with Anna’s lunch, but I promise I’ll be there. It starts at seven, right?” The frantic mother gathered her uniform, turning to Tommy and melting at the sight of the drummer cradling her baby so delicately.

“Huh? Oh yeah, seven. What are you gonna wear?” Cam froze in her tracks, completely forgetting about the scene aspect revolving around rock bands.

“Oh shit, Tommy! What am I gonna wear?!” Tommy chuckled as he stood from the bed, gently placing Grace in her bassinet and walking to his closet. Thrusting open the door, he shuffled through his clothes, tossing a black Pink Floyd shirt behind him. He gestured for Cam to follow him to Athena’s room, tossing a pair of distressed blue jeans into her arms.

“Wear that. You can keep the shirt by the way, it’s too small for me.”

“Thank you, Tommy. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a shower to take and a shift to get to.” Cam nudged Tommy out of her way and crossed the hall, entering the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~

When Cam’s shift ended at 3, she was anxious to get home. As she sprinted through town, barreling through the house, she casually mentioned to Athena that her jeans were being borrowed, a simple ‘no problem’ thrown back in response. Tommy was feeding Grace her lunch, chuckling at Cam who floated back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, mumbling to herself about everything she forgot.

Around the tenth time she stormed in the room still in her uniform and bare faced, Tommy stood and placed a hand on Cam’s shoulder.

“Hey, calm down, sweets. Take a breath and gather everything you need right now, then lock yourself in that fucking bathroom and don’t come out until you’re unrecognizable and absolutely fucking sexy.” Cam’s face flushed at Tommy’s comment. She looked down at the floor and nodded, gathering everything she needed to finalize her look. Ducking past Tommy, Cam made her way to the bathroom, following Tommy’s order diligently. She quickly exchanged her uniform for the outfit he picked out. Cam teased her hair until her arms were sore, then opted to do her makeup. She lined her hazel eyes with thick black liner and smacked a blood red lipstick on her full lips. Tommy’s words were true: when she was finished, Cam was fucking sexy.

Entering Tommy’s bedroom for the final time before leaving, Cam topped her outfit with a leather choker and combat boots. Kissing her daughter goodnight, Cam walked into the living room, everyone freezing where they stood.

“Wow, Cam. You look amazing! Your ass looks perfect in my jeans,” Athena commented, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Voula.

“Cameo, you really do look lovely. Tommy had to leave, but there is a cab waiting for you outside,” Tommy’s dad explained, a soft smile on his lips.

“Thank you. Okay well, Gracie is asleep and she should be down for the night. If not, a bottle should fix it. I borrowed a record from Tommy; Elton John. If she doesn’t seem to relax after the bottle, play ‘Your Song’ and she’ll be off to sleep in no time-”

“Cam, we’ve got this. We’ve done this a million times, and Gracie is not that difficult of a baby. Now, go have fun.” Cam’s purse was pushed into her arms as she was shoved out of the house by Voula. Cam waved as she entered the cab, giving the driver the address of the club, preparing for the amazing night ahead of her.

~~~~~~~

The show was amazing. Tommy snuck Cam backstage after the set ended and finally introduced her to Vince. The blonde was instantly enamored by Cam, but the glare that both Tommy and Nikki gave him were enough to make him reconsider his intentions.

The after party was in full swing and everyone was having fun. A beer was in Cam’s hand, but bad memories were laced with drinking, so she painfully nursed the alcohol over the course of two hours. As the party escalated, Motley Crue was high and drunk out of their minds. Someone just as fucked up wandered around, asking everyone and everything if he could bump a line of coke. He even asked Cam more than once and attempted to rudely feel her up when he was denied. Nikki pushed him off of her and told him to get out, a fight beginning to boil. As the stoner threw a right hook at Nikki’s face, a tiny man jumped in from his corner and took the attacker out with a single hit.

“Looks like you boys are gonna need a manager.” The band laughed as the stoner was thrown out of Nikki’s apartment.

“Hey, you okay? You look a little frazzled,” Mick asked across the table, noting Cam’s shaking hands.

“Um, yeah. I’m great. There’s just a lot happening at the moment.” Tommy overheard and wrapped an arm around Cam’s shoulders, gently placing a kiss to her temple.

“Do you wanna leave? I can call you a cab,” Tommy offered. Cam quickly shook her head, leaning into Tommy’s embrace a little more. At some point, Tommy tossed his leather jacket over her and she was still wearing it as their record deal and possible tour were discussed. Cam glanced around the table and smiled, happy that she was finally safe and surrounded by people who loved her.

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

Tag list:

@kellysimagines

A/N: What did you guys think of this part? Feel free to give me some pointers or things you want in the story and I’ll try my best to improve as the series goes on. BTW I am taking requests, so if anything strikes your fancy, go ahead and shoot me a message! Love you guys!

#the dirt imagine #tommy lee x oc #nikki sixx x oc #motley crue imagine #motherhood #mick mars #vince neil #love #romance #tommy lee blurb

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hvrtlings · 5 years

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“ no matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first “

* ╰ lorenzo zurzolo ; 18 ; he/his —— wow, lachlan hawthorn sure has changed. i guess he is feeling isolated from the other gryffindor members. guess you can’t really blame him. i still remember him being so curious & adaptable now he just seems frustrated & evasive guess being a halfblood isn’t helping matters much either. i’m hopeful though. they’ll be just fine. ( zoe ; cst ; 21 ; she/her )

WARNINGS: infidelity, murder, car crashes, mention of war & hospitals & general bigotry ADDITIONAL MATERIALS: lachlan’s stats page, playlist, & pinterest board ADDITIONAL NOTES: this is fully a few thousand words longer than either nate’s or alecto’s intros and i should edit it down but i also need it to not be in my drafts. really sorry about that. if you want a tldr version please hmu!! or if you just want to plot!!!

when lachlan’s biological parents married, rumors abounded. plenty of couples from their class got married right out of hogwarts --- but none of those other couples were such a puzzling case to their peers. no one knew what sweet serena alessandri saw in declan glynne. sometimes, even serena wasn’t quite sure what it was about him; he was a dark beauty, something she could only call him in her head. he was the sort of boy who’d bristle at such a feminine compliment as beautiful; never mind that it was true. but for all his good looks, no other girl had been interested in him. maybe because he wasn’t a sweet guy --- just a guy who was sweet to her.

sweet serena alessandri: deposed princess of a new money pureblood family, she hailed from italy and had lived her whole life in clueless luxury. right up until her new money family found themselves newly penniless, and escaped to england to hide their shame.

the girls and boys she’d grown up with, gone to school with --- they turned on her and her family the moment they lacked the funds to support the frivolous life italian purebloods led.

oh, but they were mean. they rubbed her family’s new poverty in her face with well calculated cruelty. they were the reasons she vowed to keep her head down when she transferred to hogwarts. she was wary of befriending muggles and muggleborns, but wary of hating them, too. haughtiness got you nothing; she knew this well.

serena was hurt and young and foolish --- not to mention ever fearful of seeming those things. declan never acted like she was; maybe that’s all there was to her love. a sense of safety, if only from ridicule.

surly declan glynne: why, he hardly warranted a full backstory. he was an angry pureblood boy from a long line of angry pureblood boys who’d never had enough money to back up their feelings of superiority.

he was almost militant in his hatred of muggleborns and muggles; he hated muggles with a quiet passion, but muggleborns were the real problem. muggleborns infected his everyday life, stole opportunities directly from him.

hardly a radical feeling, but still --- his bigotry and working-class roots didn’t make for a winning combination. swimming in friends and admirers, he was not.

so the unlikely hogwarts sweethearts settled down months after graduating, and bets were made among their peers on how long they’d actually last.

everybody who bet that the answer was ‘ not long ‘ had plenty of evidence to support their stance --- namely, that while declan scrounged up a job in the magical maintenance department at the ministry, serena went to muggle university ( excelled there, in that world of finite answers and figures, like she never could in the magical theory and feeling and pronunciation at hogwarts ) and ended up working at a muggle accounting firm.

that while serena was making more money than the highest ranking official in declan’s department, declan stewed in his anger.

his resentment bled into the relationship. they’d never had too much in common; when the sweetness declan used to treat her with left, serena was so confused. but she hated asking questions --- fearful as ever of seeming young and hurt and foolish, wary as ever of showing a chink in her armor to people far better equipped for cruelty. just as she learned that the purebloods of her childhood were crueler than her, she knew without needing the lesson that her husband was crueler, too.

serena’s muggle coworkers and classmates had always liked her.

she’d always told a version of the truth, to explain why some simple things confused her so much — after all, it wasn’t a lie that she was grew up in a rich italian family who lost the fortune when she was in her teens and left her kind of adrift.

her confusion at taxis and ball point pens could be laughed off as a sign of her former rich-girl ways.

as could her need to be liked. they all knew she attended a string of elite boarding schools but ended up having to pay her own way through university --- knew that she worked hard and wanted people to see that about her.

so, yes: they’d always liked her. she was kind.

her coworkers noticed the seemingly sudden shift in her mood, and one brave man she’d worked on a few projects with took that notice a step further --- friendly and concerned about her, just as kind as serena had always been to him, andrew reynolds asked her out to lunch one day. and there, he asked why serena was feeling so low.

the sweetness and the kindness from him was enough to open the floodgates. maybe, she could admit, she’d felt a little starved for those two things. declan’s moods had only ever gotten worse. she answered andrew’s questions with all the honesty the ministry allowed.

she revealed that her husband wasn’t sweet to her anymore, that he was actually kind of cold. she revealed she was hurt and unsure of what she did wrong. andrew paid for her meal and told her that she hadn’t done anything wrong.

that one lunch, where he said he’d be there for her, devolved into many lunches, and then late-running meetings, and finally time spent out of the office. they fell in love — and she became pregnant.

she hid it from declan for a while; they hadn’t been having sex all that frequently, with his sudden ire at her putting a dent in romance. but she hurried to initiate it as often as she felt was ‘ normal ’ for a happy marriage, after she found out she was pregnant.

she wasn’t happy being married to him, but the idea of separating was alien to her — so she needed him to think that the baby was his.

she only got more unhappy with him, when she figured enough time had passed that she could reveal the pregnancy without suspicion. serena wasn’t sure how she’d have felt if declan had been pleased to hear they were having a baby — if any excitement or warmth would have won her back to him, if a return of love would’ve erased all her hurt. but the news only seemed to make him more miserable; so serena never had to find out.

fast forward: lachlan is born, the staff at st. mungo’s hurrying as best they can to get out of a room so tense where it should be joyous. declan named the baby, and serena let him. a pang of something wrong rang through her but she ignored it in favor of plastering on a warm smile.

then the trio returned home.

apparently declan ( who’d never been all that smart, whose suspicions never seemed to touch his wife, for all his anger at her and the world at large ) had wondered at serena’s change in mood before the pregnancy. he hadn’t really noticed she’d started feeling small and hurt and lost at home until she was happy again. and when she was happier, he got suspicious. he followed her physically when he could, spied on her magically when he could, and never got proof of an all-out affair --- but declan glynne had been born suspicious. he could wait.

here’s the thing: all babies kind of look the same. lachlan’s looks weren’t a shocking departure from declan’s and serena’s. andrew reynolds had been white, too, so it wasn’t like baby lachlan’s skin tone was super different. but declan had just made a deal with himself, like — serena and I both have light hair; if this baby’s hair isn’t almost transparent, I’ll know.

baby lachlan was born with a shock of honeyed-brown curls. so that was that.

declan was, all records would show, an anti-muggle wackjob. and he was beyond furious that serena ( his wife. he may not have loved her any longer, but she was his ) thought to pass off some ‘ muggle’s bastard ‘ as his son.

they lived in a little wizarding neighborhood a small ways away from godric’s hollow; some might say, kindly, it was more quaint than godric’s hollow. others, honestly, might point out it was a way cheaper godric’s hollow. a neighbor saw and understood what the flash of green light in the glynnes’ windows meant, and alerted the aurors.

baby lachlan was left generally parent-less, as serena was dead and declan ended up in prison. he might have ended up dead himself, had the aurors not arrived on time. godric bless nosy neighbors, and all that.

declan wasn’t a smart or wealthy enough pureblood guy to get away literally murdering his wife over an affair.

some people probably sympathized with him ( serena cheated on him with a muggle. when that saucy story hit the news, that fact was hammered in and plenty of people got where he was coming from ) but it wasn’t enough to keep him out of prison.

lachlan definitely did have a still living parent who would’ve jumped at the chance to take care of him — but the wizarding authorities never even considered andrew reynolds for any real length of time.

a peek into the auror office’s thought process: if we give him the baby we have to explain how and why and that serena’s dead. and it’s just easier to not do that.

a peek into the world of wizarding adoptions: even smarmy, blood purist wizarding society is all about preserving magical blood. so magical orphans aren’t long left without homes; magical orphanages aren’t a thing. wizarding families are often huge. so orphaned wizards are shopped around to even distant relatives and then, if that doesn’t work out, given to other families.

scandalous, family-less, little baby lachlan wasn’t long alone.

meet the hawthorn family --- edmund hawthorn was born edmund shafiq and was quietly exiled from his sacred twenty-eight family when he came out. which was fine, because his husband travis hawthorn came from a sprawlingly big and welcoming half-blood family and they took edmund in right away.

edmund still wrote to his parents, and they wrote back; they hadn’t disowned him out of bad blood. he knew his parents still loved him. they just loved the family’s image more, and needed to give him the boot in order to name his brother orlando the heir ... since he could give them more heirs.

travis, conversely, had a lovely relationship with his family.

both edmund and travis were pretty high ranking ministry workers. edmund worked in the office for the department of magical law enforcement — not an auror, but someone who puts together files and goes over paperwork and traces patterns. travis was a liaison minister with the department of international magical cooperation. they’re good guys with good reputations and the ministry was honestly relieved when they offered to adopt lachlan.

lachlan grew up with two sisters: della, who was five years older, and laurel, who was just ten months older. he loved them with all his heart.

people tended to think he and laurel were twins, especially growing up — the dads cut her hair a little short because she was always getting into a mess, and it was easier to clean mud and neon paint out of shorter curls than long ones — but with their matching hair and their alliterative names, their propensity to always cause trouble as a team ... they just seemed like twins.

him and laurel seeming like blood related siblings to the outside eye made it easier for the world to forget that the hawthorn’s son was the baby that caused that big scandal.

edmund and travis never lied to the two of them and said they were blood related twins or siblings, outright. but they did let the world outside their family assume that. they figured life would be easier for lachlan if that was the readily accepted truth.

lachlan wasn’t all that adventurous on his own, but found himself dragged into his sisters’ adventures; he could vouch from experience that mud and neon paint were a pain to wash out as it was, and couldn’t imagine adding more hair into the equation.

his sisters might’ve been better at getting into messes, but lachlan made up for it by being a mess. he was always having a crisis as a kid — his stuffed dinosaurs were just ravaging the block city, dad, but what about the finger puppet people in that apartment building? do they even sell dinosaur insurance?? why didn’t I think of the implications here ...

he and laurel played knights a lot, with toy swords and helmets modeled after the suits of armor in hogwarts ( travis asked edmund if that wasn’t a little much, when they bought them; they were a few years out from school, after all, they didn’t care that the helmets were accurate — ) and lachlan always wondered about the ramifications of two knights fighting each other. laurel always took the ensuing soliloquy of hypothetical questions as opportunity to knock him flat backwards.

he was a needy kid — he always had questions at his lips, a thousand moral quandaries to discuss. he had an active imagination and a tendency to let situations snowball into situations.

he was often hilarious, and rarely on purpose, and very easy to like. anyone who knew his birth mother would’ve been surprised to see lachlan — he truly was nothing like serena. he was bright and sweet and openly curious about everything. he loved storytelling and art and music; a perfect case to show that nurture always won out over nature.

when it was time for him to go to hogwarts, he wasn’t at all sure what house he’d get sorted into — it wasn’t the sort of thing he’d ever been hung up on thinking about, for all that he’d wondered about every other part of the hogwarts experience. his dads had both been in different houses, and he had no way of knowing what houses his birth parents belonged to. the sorting hat cried out GRYFFINDOR a scant few moments after touching down on his unruly curls, and lachlan decided that felt right.

he loved hogwarts.

lachlan made friends easily and often — he’d grown up in the constant companionship of his sisters and knew well how to start conversations and shift them from uncomfortable topics, was skilled at asking questions that made people feel good and liked.

he was a little overzealous in class, but most of his professors liked him well enough. lachlan was still a curious guy, and seemed to genuinely care about each subject — something that went a long way towards endearing him to hogwarts’ staff.

though, some of the staff might’ve been endeared to him even if he wasn’t generally endearing.

his interesting past wasn’t a secret from most of the professors; travis and edmund had done well enough redirecting people’s memories around their son, but then most people had already forgotten about serena and declan, or else had never really known them in the first place. but many hogwarts professors recalled teaching the couple, recalled the shock their ending gave them, when the news hit.

lachlan’s ‘ story ‘ wasn’t something his dads had shared with him just yet, so lachlan himself didn’t know. it was a little maddening walking around the castle, when it felt like all the adults looked like they knew something he didn’t.

dumbledore, being dumbledore, took it upon himself to tell lachlan the whole sordid tale himself, when lachlan was just starting his fourth year. it was a shock ( it majorly pissed off travis and edmund, who never found out why the old man did such a thing ) but the next time he went home for the holidays his dads sat him down and explained that, no they weren’t hiding it from him and yes, they’d had plans set to tell him when he was seventeen and of age.

wizarding authorities could have hunted down andrew reynolds and told him he had a son, but they didn’t. travis and edmund, however, wanted to find andrew just in case lachlan ever wanted to meet him. so lo and behold — once lachlan knew, his dad’s set up a meeting for the four of them in muggle london. it went well; kinda full of shock and crying, even without breaking the ‘ wizard ’ of it all to andrew, but still well.

lachlan was perfectly happy with his sisters and his dads; for all that he’d always known he was adopted and for all that he’d always been curious as hell, he’d never really pushed his dads about his birth parents. his dads just were his dads. end of story — no need for questions.

which was part of why it was easy for him to go fourteen years before learning about his past. lachlan could not be paid to stop the flow of his curiosity, but there were somethings that seemed so solidly true he never thought to question them.

so while it was kind of cool meeting andrew, it was also kind of weird. knowing about andrew at all was weird — because it meant knowing that his mother had died days after giving birth to him, alone and scared and unhappy. and that her husband had been a bigot and a murderer; that declan glynne was still alive in prison somewhere. it was a suckerpunch to the gut knowing that lachlan had come close to being killed himself, if a neighbor hadn’t called the aurors on their house just in time to save the baby he used to be.

listen, he’d never wanted to know where he came from.

but he knew he’d feel, like, kind of bad if he just never saw andrew again. so with his dads’ permission ( and encouragement; edmund and travis thought this would be good for lachlan, like getting to know his Muggle Heritage from his Muggle Birth Father ) he hung out with him on occasion, during holidays and school breaks.

even though the professors clearly knew about his past, and his dads did, and his sisters did once he decided he wanted to tell them ... lachlan kept it all under wraps around his friends at school. he liked to think he was an open book, before. but learning where he came from made him want to play his cards a little closer to his chest. he couldn’t put his finger on why — he knew it worried his dads, he knew it did, and figured he’d get over it in due time, once he settled into the truth.

it just didn’t seem like the truth wanted to settle around him.

declan glynne had family. he was a middle son from a whole gaggle of bigoted, disillusioned glynne brothers. the ministry just never considered them when they were trying to figure out who would take lachlan on. they looked at serena’s family and saw no options, but declan was not lachlan’s father and, like andrew, was never even considered.

ian glynne had a bone to pick with this — had a bone to pick with lachlan’s whole existence, too, had a problem with that almost more than being overlooked.

( he thought that if serena had just kept her legs shut she’d never have gotten herself pregnant and gotten herself dead and gotten her husband sent to prison. more than that, he thought if she hadn’t gotten the idea of a muggle career into her head and made his brother upset, what with her math and her decent paycheck, she really would’ve staved all this off. but serena was dead — so it was easier to blame the baby, who wasn’t. )

he was a fan of simmering in his anger and hatred and kept up with the news about lachlan, at least enough to know who he ended up being adopted by.

and from there he got an idea; the hawthorns were good people — a compliment that would’ve come out as a sneer if ian voiced it, the judgement and sarcasm inherent in every syllable. he figured at some point, they’d tell lachlan who his birth parents were, maybe even introduce him to that homewrecking muggle. and if they did, and if ian kept a low profile, kept observing … they’d lead ian right to the muggle at the root of his brother’s injustice.

he wasn’t always watching lachlan, just keeping an eye on him by keeping an eye on his dads. he’d never been all that smart or ambitious — the glynnes were a family that thrived in their self-righteousness and self-importance and didn’t feel like they should have to act on those things to get what they deserved.

but his anger, his half baked plot, was enough to spur ian to action for the first time in his life. he rose through the ranks of the ministry through pure determination and will and ended up working in the same office in the department of magical law enforcement as edmund. they almost became friends; not earnestly, not honestly — not on ian’s part. but they did. friendly enough for ian to ask after edmund’s kids and get answers, friendly enough to hear about the trip into muggle london to visit someone edmund described as one of the kids’ ‘ distant relatives. ‘

he followed them.

and he didn’t do anything that time lachlan and the muggle were in the same place, but he started to plan.

it would’ve been too hard to keep magical surveillance over lachlan and the hawthorns, so he hadn’t, not ever. just kept an eye on them the old fashioned way, through word of mouth and casual water-cooler conversation. but andrew reynolds had no means of catching ian glynne in the act of spying. so, spy he did.

muggle police would later rule it a tragic car accident — shaking their heads at the carnage as they carted lachlan off to the muggle hospital while he clung with bloody hands to consciousness. it took hours for the dads to find him there and by the time his family reached him he decided he wouldn’t tell them any of the truth of what happened; told the official from the auror department once he got relocated to st. mungo’s, but only because he had to.

he never asked if that official told his dads. none of the hawthorns talked about the situation anymore than they had to, after that.

here was the situation:

ian glynne tailed lachlan and andrew all day — a saturday during easter hols during lachlan’s fifth year wherein andrew showed lachlan around muggle london. the pair had lunch together, looked in a few shops, and were set to drive out to andrew’s home outside of the city, where edmund and travis and lachlan’s sisters would meet them later for tea.

ian glynne got them on a secluded section of road just far enough away from both the city proper and andrew’s home to cause immediate alarm.

he came out in front of the car and andrew made to swerve around the man, but ian cast some defensive spell lachlan had yet to learn at the hood. it exploded — felt like they crashed into another vehicle even though they were the only car on the road.

lachlan and andrew both slammed into the windshield, but neither crashed through it. ian came ‘round to andrew’s side of the car and started screaming questions at him about serena and declan; then he shot him with a muggle handgun, something lachlan had surely never laid eyes on before.

andrew did not die from that initial gunshot — ian was a terrible shot, and was half out of his mind besides. the bullet just grazed him, and he inelegantly dragged andrew out of the car after.

lachlan made his way out of the vehicle too, bleeding and hurt, all cut up and bruised from the crash and the glass he had to wade through. he thought, maybe, he was in shock. he was certainly in shock once he finally bambi-legged his way out of the demolished vehicle and saw ian cast a cruciatus on his biological father.

and, still in shock when he saw ian whammy andrew with a killing curse after that.

ian did not attempt to turn his wand on lachlan — this was the second time in his short life that a glynne brother forgot to kill him once done with a more satisfying target. ian took for the bare april greenery lining the road and lachlan ( curious, trauamtized dumbass that he was ) ran after him. found a gun pointed at him for a terrifying moment before the muggle police sirens cut the air and sent ian apparating on out of there.

he fought to go back to hogwarts right away; it was only the first saturday of the holiday that all this went down, so lachlan felt, since he spent the whole rest of it in hospitals and bed, surely he was fine. the dads disagreed, and his sisters disagreed, and the auror working on ian’s case disagreed. he’d just become, in a way, an orphan. and it felt like no one around him cared to see him recover in the way he wanted to.

lachlan managed to bargain that he’d get to return to school as soon as ian was sent to join his brother in prison — none of the world any wiser that he’d been there when the newest glynne family crime was committed.

laurel decreed that it’d look less strange if both of them stayed home until then, and that was that. the dads wouldn’t begrudge lachlan the company of his sister, if he couldn’t return to full normalcy just yet.

della was graduated at this point, technically an adult working a fancy job at some boutique robe shop, but she came home every day from work and glued herself to her younger siblings’ sides. lachlan recovered his new, strange orphan-hood with his not-twin and big sister at his side, dads hovering around as much as their jobs allowed.

the hawthorns were tight knit and loosely configured all at once — always brimming with love and independence in spades, care expressed tenderly and roughly, like no one was sure how to be earnest. edmund and travis had always expressed affection like that: through arguing and debating and ribbing more than any big displays.

the kids worked the same way. family dinners used to be more running jokes and teasing than anything, raucous like none of them knew the definition of serious.

the five hawthorns weren’t really sure if that old normal was still achievable; lachlan’s brush with near-death met the daunting news lurking on the edge of their world. the whispers of war.

things became very real for the carefree family — the fact of edmund’s disownment, and travis’ famous half-bloodedness.

that all three kids were adopted with far-from-simple origin stories ( even if lachlan’s was the loudest, neither laurel nor della came from a closet free of skeletons ), that the dads were gay and the kids were open in their opposition to anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn sentiment

ian glynne might not’ve gone after lachlan for any of that, not really. but the possibility started to hit with dizzying closeness.

two weeks after the holiday officially ended, laurel and lachlan returned to hogwarts. if lachlan had seemed new and different upon receiving the news of his biological parentage, then he seemed really different following his brush with death and new witness to murder. it was the kind of different that was hard to put your finger on. he smoked now, and drank more; he was liable to fall into fits of melancholy.

cynicism did not come easy to him, but he found that wariness did, that secrecy did. it was shocking.

he finished his fifth year chomping at the bit to do something, anything, about the awful ways in which his world was changing. the next year only held more tragedy --- attacks and deaths and disappearances. no one knew what happened to him unless he chose to tell them ( and in truth, there was almost no one he chose to tell ) but he couldn’t help but feel a kinship with everyone newly hurt by this world. he’d been hurt by it, too, after all.

there was a small degree of safety offered within hogwarts’ walls, but he couldn’t help but want to be free of them. to be out there, doing something. lachlan would wait for now, ask questions and notice things and store them away the way he always had. but it started to feel like he was just biding his time until he had something to do with every new thing he learned.

#incantareintro #( ⊱ ━━ 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒐 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒚┊intro. )

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razieltwelve · 5 years

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Design (Godzilla x Stuff)

“Ma’am, as member of your board, I am once again begging you to reconsider.”

Vanille smiled indulgently at Jake. He was one of her favourite minions. Back when she’d been a teenager scrounging scrapyards for parts and working the black-market to make ends meet, he’d seen her potential and thrown the weight of his small business behind her. He hadn’t been able to give her much in the way of extra funds, but his influence and good name proved to be difference makers at a critical moment.

When Dia Technologies had begun its rapid ascent, Vanille had added him to the board. What Jake lacked in pure business acumen and cunning, he more than made up for in loyalty and an uncanny ability to spot talent. Given his congenial nature, he was also the one the board sent whenever they wanted to convince her not to do something crazy. Admittedly, he had a fairly atrocious record when it came to changing her mind, but he was still doing better than everyone else.

“Jake, I think you’re missing the big picture.” Vanille gestured grandly at the holographic display showing the blue prints she’d come up with. “Think of what we could do with a robot version of Godzilla.”

“I have thought about it,” Jake replied. “And I’m fairly sure we’ll get arrested if we build something like that.”

“We’ll only get arrested if people find out before we’re finished building it. Once we’ve built it…” Vanille cackled evilly. “Who’s going to stop us then?”

Jake cringed. “Uh… nobody?”

“Exactly.” Vanille smirked. “We’re talking about a gigantic robot that can laugh off a fifty megaton nuclear weapon. And don’t even get me started on the weaponry. We’ve got lasers, plasma claws, a massive death ray -”

“A death ray?” Jake blurted. “You built a death ray?”

“Technically, it’s a molecular decomposition ray that destroys the bonds that hold molecules together. But, yes, it’s basically a death ray because anything it hits is going to die.” Vanille rubbed her hands together gleefully. “I would have put one in my power armour, but I haven’t been able to miniaturise the parts enough yet. However, it does fit rather nicely into a giant robot.”

“You’re not planning on fighting Godzilla with this thing, are you, ma’am?”

“No. Well, not unless he starts a fight. This thing is aimed more at other titans. If everything works out like I’m hoping, the death ray should be able to destroy a MUTO in a single hit.”

“…” Jake took a deep breath. It was hard to believe that Vanille, the same woman who’d just told him she’d actually built a death ray, was also responsible for countless advances in the field of medicine. “How much is this thing going to cost?”

“Meh…” Vanille shrugged. “I don’t know… maybe two hundred billion dollars, give or take.”

“…” Jake shook himself. “Two hundred billion dollars? Do you have two hundred billion dollars just laying around?”

“Guess who already secured the rights to produce plush toys, video games, and other products using the likenesses of the titans?” Vanille smirked. “That’s right. It’s us.”

“Really? And Monarch let you get away with that?”

“Technically, nobody owns the titans. They’re handled in much the same way as wild animals. Sure, we can’t take pictures of them while they’re on Monarch territory, but the moment they enter a public area… that’s a different story.”

Jake nodded slowly. “And since they spend so much time smashing cities and travelling through international waters and airspace…”

“Bingo.” Vanille cackled again. “The guys in analytics predict that we’ll make two hundred billion dollars in our first year alone from plush toys sales, video games, and other merchandise. Whether it’s Godzilla lunch boxes or Mothra costumes, we’ll be making it all.”

Jake made a face. “I don’t think everyone will be happy about you commercialising what are basically walking natural disasters.”

“We’ll be donating money to various charities to ensure we remain popular with the public. Besides, we’ll be focusing more on the ones that don’t seem to want to kill us all.” Vanille’s expression turned crafty. “And think about it, Jake. If we can raise the popularity of some of these titans, people are going to be less enthusiastic about killing them all.”

“Oh.” Jake might not be the most cunning person, but he was quick to catch on once something had been explained to him. “You’re planning on turning this into a PR battle, aren’t you?”

“Not all of the titans are bad,” Vanille said quietly. “Dr Serizawa and I agree about that much. Where we differ is in our approach to ensuring the safety of the good ones. He wants us to leave them alone, but that’s not going to happen. Our only option for keeping them safe is to make killing them so unpopular that no politician will ever authorise that course of action.” She sighed. “I think he’s right about a lot of things. And I think there’s something out there, something worse than the MUTOs or any of the other titans we’ve seen so far.”

“What could be worse?” Jake asked.

“How about a flying three headed space dragon?”

“…” Jake stared. “Are you joking?”

“I hope so,” Vanille said quietly. “But the evidence would suggest otherwise.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that Monarch has leaks, and some of what they’re leaking is very troubling.” Vanille nodded at the hologram. “There are real monsters out there, ones as powerful as Godzilla but far more vicious. It’s nice that Godzilla helps out now and then, but we’d be stupid to rely on him entirely. Giant robots are just one possibility. I’m working on a dozen other things that might help.”

“Like what?” Jake was morbidly curious now.

“Ever heard of a kinetic kill vehicle, Jake? These titans are tough, but I wonder how they’ll stand up to a fifty-metre-long tungsten-tipped spike being dropped from orbit.” Vanille’s eyes gleamed. “How about ten?”

“I think I’ll stop asking, ma’am,” Jake said quietly. “So that if we get arrested I can honestly say I don’t know anything.”

“Smart man.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Yes, Vanille is building a version of Mech Godzilla. And, yes, she knows about King Ghidorah, at least in part. Being who she is, Vanille is not going to let things happen without preparing as best she can.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

#fanfiction #godzilla #oerba dia vanille

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wxldchxld · 6 years

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I hope you guys know that from a professional stand point almost no one works harder than your teachers and no one catches more shit for that hard work than they do.

I’m a special education assistant in a public high school and often when I talk about things I do for my students people will say to me “if only there were more teachers out there that cared.” While I like that people aren’t trivializing the importance of my job, I am not a teacher. I don’t like what that statement implies about other teachers. It’s because I don’t have their job that I can do the things that I do. I can give extra time, I can find more ways to work with people, but I want people to challenge their belief that “if they were good teachers they would do this” and maybe consider that the horrible system they’re in is what has MADE them into “bad” teachers.

I’ve worked in the education system since I took my first break from college when I was nineteen. Even when I went back to school, I was still a substitute and my primary social group was comprised of elementary school teachers. I’m twenty-six now, so I’ve been around long enough to see the system up close. Let me tell you: it sucks. You probably already think it sucks but y’all---it sucks so much more than you really think.

Teaching is hard. On principle it’s hard. You’re taking responsibility for the education (and therefore, to some extent, the future quality of life) of other people’s children. If they fail not only are you judged by your employers, your colleges, and the parents/students, they get to struggle with the guilt of not doing enough---not being enough---despite the fact that they are not solely responsible for these children and they did all they could.

We need to stop thinking that if we funded education better we could afford better teachers. In underfunded schools the problem isn’t that they went to Trader Joe’s and bought an off brand of teacher. The problems are class size and lack of resources and ridiculous standards and school boards that are just so tired of fighting tooth and nail for funding in their area that they are burnt out. It all rolls down hill. Your teachers take the hit for it from parents, students, administrators, the government, and the community around them.

Teachers don’t get off work at three. They don’t. If you think they do you’re a crazy person. They have PLC meetings and faculty meetings to attend. They have papers to grade. They have lesson plans to make. They have a set amount of time they have to spend assisting with after school activities likes sports even if they aren’t a coach. They have so many hours of extended education they must complete (and by the way most of the opportunities for this that are actually not a giant waste of time cost SO much money and the school doesn’t pay for it). In my county teachers make about 34,000 yearly. Not a lot of money for a lot of work. Not nearly enough money for the massive amount of pressure placed on them for that work. Not to mention that the majority of teachers are willing to offer tutoring (out of their own private time) and it isn’t a job requirement. At least not in my county.

You get ALL of that after working all day with dealing with classrooms of 20+ students.

Oh and a little more about the money thing. Things like tissues, hand sanitizer, printer ink, any sort of classroom decor, and even bulbs for the Promethean come out of the private pockets of teachers (once more, this I can only say for certain is true in my area but it really wouldn’t surprise me). So when the 500 dollar bulb that goes into that projector blows, the seven teachers in the English department have to scrounge together to buy a new one. It doesn’t matter if it isn’t your board. It doesn’t matter if you’ve used your board a total of five minutes the whole year. You’re expected to help pay for that expense.

So let’s say you want to do something like sell drinks or something to pay for these expenses? Well if you do manage to pull off a miracle and get your school to agree to that, you don’t get to pocket that money. If you’re lucky it goes back into the department. If you aren’t so lucky the school will put it into whatever they see fit.

Despite this teachers are the most giving people I know. If the school runs a charity, they’re usually the first ones to give (to give their class a boost and to help out). They buy from fundraisers for things like band and art or academic clubs. I’ve seen teachers buy clothes, backpacks, food, and even Christmas gifts for students. And you know what? In most the cases they didn’t have the money to give it. It wasn’t extra cash they had on hand. It was a stretch. It was a sacrifice. Not because anyone asked them to but because they love their kids.

But you guys still. want. more.

You need to take a step back and realize that you are dealing with people. People that all got into this profession for two reasons: they love helping and they love your kids. It won’t kill y’all to appreciate them more and to be more understanding.

#ooc #mun rant #i'm not even at work today how am i this angry about this

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dearingsattler · 7 years

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Genetic Splicing

fraidasimmons domestic fluff fic swap with @plinys

Also available on ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11092461

Summary: There were a lot of things Ophelia was still learning and getting used to as a human. But there were some things that she had already grown to love as well.

Wisely, Jemma and Fitz had decided to hold off on introducing Ophelia to TV and movies, deciding that it was better for her to get a better handle on her emotions before exposing her to the emotional roller coaster that was most media – of course, she was already familiar with much of the media that they planned on showing her but she only had a robot’s perspective on them thus far.

But once Ophelia had a handle on the whole being human thing, it was time for introductions to be made and thus Friday nights became movie nights. Nothing fancy, after all they were lucky to even be able to do movie night every Friday considering the nature of their work, usually they would just lay claim to an empty lounge (sometimes they would go to the beach house, but more often than not they had to be on hand in case something came up), pick out a movie or two, and scrounge up some popcorn and wine or beer.

Ophelia had grown to love these nights, few as they felt sometimes. Despite being familiar with many of the movies they watched, it felt like she was seeing them truly for the first time. Of course, this was in no small part to the company that she had. It was always clear which of them had picked the movie of the night, and more often than not they ended up bickering about the movie during the movie (Ophelia had not been prepared for this, especially when they started with the Star Wars and Star Trek series – Fitz was a trekkie and Jemma a warsie, Ophelia had been certain popcorn was going to start flying at one point).

Tonight was – as Jemma insisted – time for another classic, Jurassic Park. Apparently there were now four movies in the series, Ophelia had only been aware of the existence of two, the first one and the fourth one as she now knew.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have watched The Mummy,” Fitz was complaining about Jemma’s choice of movie as per usual (admittedly Jemma would also complain about Fitz’s choices – Ophelia learned from Daisy after the first few weeks that this was completely normal). “At least with that one we don’t have to sit through two movies that aren’t as good in the middle of the two good ones.”

Jemma rolled her eyes as she placed the bowl of popcorn and six pack of beer she had found onto the table, “because this week it was my turn to pick. If you are so inclined we can watch the two Mummy movies next week before finishing the Jurassic series the week after.”

Confusion crossed Ophelia’s face, “wait, aren’t there three Mummy movies?”

“No,” the two responded in unison. Ophelia raised an eyebrow, she was near certain there were three. Fitz sighed, “okay technically yes three movies in the series do exist, however the third one is ignored by literally everyone because it sucks and should not have been made, so therefore it doesn’t exist.”

“Okay,” Ophelia said slowly, Fitz and Jemma both giving her their serious nods. Deciding it was best to move on she sat down and grabbed one of the beers, “shall we start the movie then?”

As per usual Fitz and Jemma were overly talkative during the movie (Ophelia often wondered if they were like this with every movie no matter the setting – if so she was never going to a movie theatre with them) but she stayed slightly more quiet than usual. She had known that the movie was about dinosaurs that had been brought back from extinction through science, but she hadn’t expected to find herself mesmerized by the sequence explaining the genetics behind the park.

“It’s really quite amazing, isn’t it?” Jemma and Fitz both shut up and turned towards Ophelia who hadn’t said a word throughout the movie until that moment.

“What is?”

“How they used genetics to recreate animals that have been extinct for tens of millions of years,” Ophelia explained. “I mean, I used something of immense power to create my body, I wouldn’t have managed it otherwise even with the full genetic base I had; but these guys managed to bring something incredible back using just partial DNA strands and some gene splicing. I can’t imagine being able to do something like that myself.”

Jemma placed a comforting hand on Ophelia’s forearm, “it’s just science fiction, I doubt anyone could manage anything like this in real life.”

“It’s not entirely unfeasible though. If we were to find extremely well preserved mosquitos we probably could find a way to extract what was left of the DNA, complete it, and recreate dinosaurs.” Ophelia paused in thought for a moment, “maybe I’ll try to do so one day.”

Fitz chuckled, “something like that would take decades and millions of dollars in funding.”

Ophelia shrugged, “I know, but I do think that I would like to do something that has to do with genetics, I find the subject quite fascinating. I definitely would not use the darkhold again, but if I could use a similar concept to what created my body to help do something like regrow lost limbs maybe it would help atone for all I have done.”

Jemma squeezed her wrist, “you’ve done plenty already. But I do think that that’s an excellent idea. Also the kids would love the dinosaurs.” Fitz gave Jemma an incredulous look, “oh hush, you know what I mean.”

Ophelia laughed at their antics, squeezing the hand Jemma had on her wrist before falling back into silence.

A bit further into the movie found Ophelia shivering slightly. That was something else she had been finding difficult to adjust to, the fact that humans felt temperature. It was one of the reasons that she liked the beach house so much, the warmth of the climate there offered a stark contrast to drafty base that seemed to never feel warm to her.

“You cold?” Fitz rubbed her arm as she nodded, “here, let me find you a blanket.”

As Fitz got up, Jemma jolted forward, causing Ophelia to jump slightly. She turned to face her and noticed that Jemma’s eyes were lit up in the way they did whenever she had an idea. “Wait a second, Fitz, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Fitz paused for a second and his eyes lit up as well, “Blanket fort!” The pair shouted in unison (another thing Ophelia was still getting used to – the fact that Fitz and Jemma apparently shared a brain) before Fitz ran off to grab as many blankets as he could find.

Ophelia raised an eyebrow at Jemma who was making herself busy moving the furniture around, “a blanket fort?”

“Of course,” Jemma bubbled. “We used to make them at the academy all the time. Fitz would be in charge of structural integrity and I would make it as cozy as possible.” She ushered Ophelia off the couch as she was talking and started grabbing the cushions off of it. “You can’t go your entire life without ever making a blanket fort, that’s blasphemy. And movie night is the perfect time to create one.” She paused a moment, “well so is any night during finals but that is because blanket forts are the best places to study and building them is a nice break.”

Fitz had come back into the room with a massive armload of blankets and a few pillows while Jemma was rambling and then had disappeared only to come back with even more. “Okay,” he said as observed the room around them. “Obviously we need to include the television in the fort so we can watch the movie from within it so Jemma if you could move that chair to that spot, and Ophelia if you could move that chair over there.” He pointed out where the chairs were going and then went to move the couch where he wanted it to be.

Once all the furniture had been moved to their Fitz-approved spots the trio moved to spreading out pillows on the floor and placing blankets over top of it all. Ophelia did her best but mostly put things where either Fitz or Jemma directed her to as this was something that again, she was only really familiar with in concept.

They put the finishing touches on it and clambered inside where Ophelia sat and looked around in amazement. It was surprisingly roomy on the inside and no matter what way she looked at it, she just couldn’t figure out how Fitz had got it to stay standing.

Ophelia broke out of her reverie as Jemma wrapped her arms around her shoulders, “it really is quite amazing what Fitz can do, isn’t it?”

Fitz pulled the two close, “wouldn’t be near as comfortable without Jemma though”

Ophelia’s grinned widened, “I think it’s brilliant.” She felt two pairs of lips press to her head, one on her temple, the other on the crown of her head (another thing she had grown to love, kisses on her head on places other than her lips – she loved them on her lips as well of course). “Now, can we resume the movie? I really want to see what happens next if I’m being honest.”

Fitz and Jemma laughed, and the three of them situated themselves on the pillows on the ground before resuming the movie. Ophelia felt much warmer snuggled up between Fitz and Jemma as she contentedly watched the movie. With how things started out she never would have imagined ending up here, spending her Friday nights curled up with two people she loved watching movies.

She had never imagined it, but she definitely wouldn’t have it any other way.

The credits of The Lost World were just beginning to roll when Fitz and Jemma got up and started to gather the empty beer bottles and popcorn bowl, Ophelia however, continued to stare at the screen.

“I’ve changed my mind,” was all she said when the two looked at her questioningly.

“About what?” Jemma asked softly.

“I don’t want to recreate dinosaurs anymore.”

#fraidasimmons #plinys #My writing #anyway I haven't written anything beyond a drabble in what feels like forever so hopefully this doesn't suck

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