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spatialwave · 1 month

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i am LOVING your angus tully content 💕 would you please write an angus tully x reader where the reader meets angus in boston while they’re ice skating and then they get to know each other as they explore the city, sort of ‘before sunrise’ style and hunham gives them the space to do so? if you don’t like this idea though that’s totally okay!! have a lovely day regardless :)

𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫

pairing: angus tully x fem!reader word count: 4k notes: reader is very nervous & dorky! thank u for sending 🤎

the chilly december air stung your cheeks, leaving them reddened and sore, but that didn’t stop you from braving the weather and heading to the public skating rink. your friends had cancelled on you last minute, one of them falling sick with a nasty cold and the other deciding that her boyfriend was more important than a night with you during the festivities that boston had to offer. you couldn't be angry at her, though, you were a hopeless romantic at heart and would do the same if you had a boyfriend. you were happy that your best friend found someone so perfect for her, you dreamed of finding him too—the perfect boy.

though, you usually just giggled in your bed at night when you imagined yourself spending the rest of your life with david cassidy. that was much easier than finding real love.

so, alone you were as you willed your way ahead through the boston streets where your father had dropped you off. you promised yourself you'd start getting out of your nervous shell and what better way to test it than being alone at a skating rink? especially when you were notoriously clumsy and horrendous at skating.

if you could do this, you could do anything.

as you approached the skating rink you felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety flooding you. there were a lot of people, too many people, a lot of friends giggling with each other, children learning how to skate with their parents and partners holding hands as they stared into each other's eyes lovingly. you sorely missed your friends, but you shoved that thought as deeply into your consciousness as you could because you promised yourself you wouldn't wallow in your loneliness.

and you were here, weren’t you? successfully making do without them. all you needed to do was get the skates on and make your way onto the ice—that’s all. getting here was half the battle.

comfort warmed you as you fit yourself into the hand-me-down skates your older sister had given you. you tried so hard not to think about the negatives because even if you slipped and fell, it’s not like anyone here knew you. there was not a single person on the rink that looked even the slightest bit familiar and you thanked god you lived in a busy city.

of course, you were unsuccessful in ridding those thoughts because all you could think about was that there was a likely chance you could embarrass yourself in front of a cute boy. you were too boy-crazy for your own good, your mother blamed david cassidy for it.

as you let out a shaky exhale, you darted your eyes around the exterior of the rink as you shrugged off your bag and held your winter boots in your hand. you had ran into your first problem of the evening; there was no one to watch your belongings.

that’s when you noticed an older man just to the left of you, smoking out of a pipe and watching the rink, smiling to himself. he seemed friendly enough, reminding you a lot of your grandpa. there was no better person to watch your things!

“excuse me sir,” you said to him, smiling as you approached him cautiously, “is it alright if i leave my things here next to you? i’m not skating for long… i just don’t want to take them onto the rink with me.”

the man hadn’t realized you were talking to him at first as he pulled the pipe out of his mouth and looked between you and someone on the skating rink. he smacked his lips together a few times in thought, “okay. sure, i don’t mind.” he mumbled, though you could tell that he minded.

he was grumpier than you pegged him to be.

“thank you so much! i won’t be long!” you smiled, happy that you had some form of success, but again you had to ward off the image in your head of him running off with your things. at least he’d only have stolen a woman’s snow boots and three dollars from your wallet.

as you waddled away, you hadn’t noticed that a boy on the rink had skated up to the older man, you were much too focused on not toppling over. your ankles were already wobbling back and forth as you navigated through the snow, unaware of the set of eyes that lingered on you with each step you took.

“you got this,” you breathed to yourself as you made it to the entrance, taking a long and deep breath that caught in your throat. you froze in your spot, feeling frigid as you watched the tens of people skating along the rink so seemingly expert in their ways.

a woman cleared her throat behind you and you jolted up, looking over your shoulder and seeing a mother and her two children waiting to step into the rink, “sorry!” you squealed as you hurried onto the ice and clung to the railing for dear life.

the sounds of the young kids snickering made your cheeks burn red, so you kept your eyes downward and stared at your mitten-covered hands as they gripped onto the rail. then you focused on your feet, slowly moving them back and forth on the ice as you got used to the feeling of the skates gliding across the frozen surface.

with a triumphant huff, you straightened up and slowly started to skate with your hand keeping balance on the edge, much like a learning child. at least they usually had a helper.

you had focused on this for a bit, getting into the swing of things. you looked around with a content smile, slowly moving and breathing in the crisp air as you focused on the sounds of laughter. the christmas spirit was high and you were happier than ever to be experiencing this alone, you couldn’t wait to go home and gush to your sister about your first solo adventure as a young woman.

satisfaction wasn’t fully met, however. you needed to challenge yourself further before calling it a night.

carefully, you let your hand off of the rail and moved carefully away from the edge. your eyes darted around your immediate surroundings, making sure you had enough of a clearing to start skating without bumping into anyone. a big smile grew on your face, you were by no means quick, but at least you were moving!

you focused your eyes back down on your feet, watching closely as you moved one in front of the other with intention. you were getting the hang of it, muscle memory coming back from when you skated as a kid. with your attention far from the outside world, you didn’t notice a duo of young girls coming right for you—too busy laughing amongst each other to notice you drifting in front of them.

one of the girls bumped hard into your shoulder and yelped out a sincere ‘sorry’ as you lost your balance on your feet. you almost kept yourself upright, but you quickly fell back.

you expected to crash down onto the ice with a hard thump, but two arms caught you, hooking underneath your armpits and hoisting you back upright onto your skates. you didn’t have the means to turn around all that quickly, but the person who saved you seemed to realize that, so he skated in front of you and turned to look at you. he made it seem so easy to skate backward.

“you okay?” he asked, but you hardly heard the words because you were so fascinated with how beautiful he was. he had the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen and a head full of wild curls that he obviously tried to tame. he was also taller than you, making you feel so small under his gaze, but not threatening in the slightest. all you could do was smile at him like a dork.

your knight in shining armour.

a few moments pass and the realization hit that you had been completely silent, “thank you!” you blurted out, your eyes widening in horror because of how you were staring at him like a goddamned fool, "i'm not very good at this."

"you were doing fine until you got bulldozed over," the boy smiled, unabashedly looking you up and down. he cleared his throat and held out two of his gloved hands, "hang on."

you obeyed with no hesitation, your arms extending so you could take his gloved hands in your own. you felt your mouth go dry and you had to force your hands to stop shaking. you were always so much more anxious around boys.

"oh, god," you groaned in anticipation as he started skating backward, pulling you along and forcing you to focus on keeping balance, "you really don't have to spend your time here teaching me how to skate." you looked up at him, feeling like a burden.

"i know," he replied, grinning at you as he kept pulling you along the ice, his gaze only breaking to make sure he wasn't about to skate back into anyone. those brown eyes fell back on you, watching you with a soft gaze as you kept moving with one foot gliding in front of the other, "i'm angus."

"hi, angus," you smiled, chewing on the inside of your lip after you returned the introduction. you could feel your cheeks blushing. you looked down and at your feet again, but your lack of focus got the best of you, "ah, shit!"

just as you lost your footing and balance, nearly flying forward, angus wrapped an arm around you and laughed aloud, pulling you against him so you couldn't tip over. you could've stayed like that forever, nuzzled against this boy's chest and forgetting about the outside world.

"you're clumsy," he teased, flickering his gaze down at you as he led you both to the railing for a rest.

"you only just noticed?" you retorted playfully as you leaned against the support, letting yourself exhale in relief once you could rest the entirety of your weight against it. shyly, you looked back over to angus after a few beats of silence, "you're not here with anyone else?"

angus scrunched his nose in response, shrugging, "it's a long story."

"i like stories," you mused, not ready to let this end. whatever this was.

a breathy laugh came from him as he glanced away to look at something, you hadn't been able to follow his gaze before he was looking at you again. there was something about him that kept your attention, likely the fact that he genuinely seemed to enjoy your presence. it made you giddy and your stomach swirled with butterflies.

"well, i came here with my history teacher," he said, almost sheepishly. you looked at him with slightly furrowed brows, uncertain where this would be going, "i go to a boarding school out of town, north of here. i, uh, didn't get to spend christmas with my family and so i've been stuck at school with him as my chaperone. guess i'm good at convincing people to take me places," he chuckled, his gaze looking anywhere but at you.

"i don't think i would've guessed that story in a million years," you giggled, a smile reaching your eyes as you looked over angus' face, "sorry about your family, though. must be hard around the holidays."

"it's fine," he quipped quickly, you figured it best to not bring up his family anymore.

you fell silent for a bit, thinning your lips as you looked around and focused on your surroundings to pass the time and try to ignore the awkward silence. you watched a group of kids skating together, playfully shoving each other and laughing when one of them wiped out.

"did you want to skate again?" angus' voice broke the silence and you met his eyes. with a small nod, he smiled and gave you his hands again.

the two of you had spent another twenty minutes on the skating rink, laughing together as he taught you how to keep yourself upright. you were happy to report that you'd only fallen on your ass twice, and even when he laughed at you, you felt your heart soaring.

there must've been some good karma you stored up over the year because you weren't sure why you were blessed to run into angus on a night like this. he was cute, funny and just as awkward as you were.

once you two were tired and ready to hang the skates up, you ventured out of the rink and stood at the exit. you had to catch your breath after laughing over some joke angus had made about his time at barton, something stupid that wouldn't have made you laugh in another other situation. angus was just... nice. funny, but in an endearingly dorky way.

as you bent down to untie your skates, you straightened up with a panicked look on your face. "my stuff!" you said, looking up at angus and then around the exterior of the rink, trying to spot the man you'd left your things with. that's where the bad karma came in, leaving you with nothing.

"are you looking for these?" a third voice spoke, your eyes landing on the pipe-smoking man that angus seemed to recognize. you put the pieces together.

"yes! thank you so much!" you smiled as you took the boots from him and your bag, quickly changing into the shoes that allowed you to stand steady. you sighed softly with a smile and looked between the two men, "i, uh, thank you again, sir, for keeping an eye on my things. and thanks, angus, i'm sure by next winter i'll be an olympic figure skater," you smiled, not quite ready to leave without spending more time with the boy, but you weren't sure you'd have the choice.

as luck would have it, though, his teacher, mr. hunham, seemed to have a soft spot for the boy.

"mr. tully, i'm calling it an evening and will be heading to the hotel room, i'm rather tired this evening," the older man explained. you could see the pleading look on angus's face, "i expect to see you there within a few hours or lest you deal with multiple detentions when we're back at barton," he continued with a satisfied look on his face when angus smile, "keep an eye on him for me." he turned to you, letting out a huffy sigh as he looked between the two of you once more before turning on his heels and leaving.

angus was speechless.

"he seems like a nice man," you said in awe as you watched him, growing nervous for other reasons now.

"trust me. he's usually not," angus replied, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat as he looked down at you, "you look cold. i think i saw i coffee shop near here. they probably have hot chocolate or something."

"okay," you smiled, forcing yourself not to let your boy-crazy giddiness get the best of you again.

as you two ventured away from the skating rink, you found yourself feeling more comfortable with each passing second and talking about yourself like an open book. you spoke about everything and nothing, his favourite band was pink floyd and he was currently halfway through reading the novel dune. you shared your own love for the partridge family show, though, you kept your lips tight about your obsession with david cassidy.

you made a mental note to rip the poster of david off your wall if something were to ever come out of this night with you and angus, like hell he'd ever be in your room.

"what do you like so much about boston?" you asked angus as you two walked through one of the downtown streets in boston, your mittens shoved in your pocket as your hands cupped around the hot chocolate you sipped on. the heat emanated from the paper cup and warmed your hands. you two had been walking and talking for a while now and your drink was half-empty.

"you like long-winded answers, don't you?" angus said playfully, bumping himself against your side as you walked together. it caused a laugh to bubble up from you, your cheeks turning red at the closeness.

"what's so long about this answer?" you wondered aloud, glancing up at him.

"my dad is here," he said after taking a moment to think over his words, "he's uh, in the sanitorium," he murmured, not quite meeting your gaze, "not doing well mentally."

"you don't have to say anymore," you urged him, regretful that you asked the question in the first place.

"it's fine, i like you. you're not... judging me." angus admitted, flickering his eyes to you and smiling.

oh, god. that smile made your stomach do flips.

"why would i judge you?" you asked rhetorically, "you've been nothing but kind to me tonight. you didn't even know me and you caught me before i fell on my ass, i mean, that's the most any guy has ever done for me... and you bought me hot chocolate!" you were animated in your words as you spoke, not noticing how you lit up angus' facial expressions.

"like i said, it's because i like you." his lips twitched into a smile before he lifted his cup and downed the rest of his drink. you followed in suit, though, mostly to cover the way you had a smile stuck on your face like a lovesick puppy.

you two found an outdoor garbage bin and tossed your empty cups in, standing on a corner of the street that was near the courtyard with the skating rink. it was quiet there now, only then noticing how late it had gotten.

"so, what's your story?" angus interrupted your thoughts as he kept walking, you needing to take a few quick steps to meet his pace as he led you to a bench to sit down on. the perfect spot to watch the christmas lights flicker around the rink and people watch the last remaining people who were skating.

"it's hardly a story," you laughed, fidgeting with your fingers as you looked up to the night sky, the stars hidden because of the city lights, "i'm just crawling my way to graduation so i can get out of my parent's house and go to college," you look over at him, "are you graduating, too?"

he shook his head, "i was expelled a few times," he admitted with an amused look on his face, "should be graduating, but stuck as a junior because of my atrocious behaviour," he teased with a click of his tongue.

"expelled?" you laughed, "wow, i didn't expect such a gentleman like you to be so fond of troublemaking."

that got a laugh out of him, the smile reaching his eyes as he turned ever-so-slightly to better look at you while you two sat together, "yep, i'm the absolute worst. though, i plead my case as i've been wrongly accused of blowing up a toilet once when it was obviously not true."

"uh-huh," you smirked, "are you certain about the wrongly accused part?" you snorted a laugh.

the night was perfect. the two of you sharing so many laughs that your cheeks were hurting and you were beginning to feel like you knew angus for years and this was simply a reunion of friends. you knew at some point it would end, but you didn't want to think about it. not yet, it was too painful of a thought.

your laughter settled and you couldn't break your gaze from angus, the silence looming, but not overwhelming. as you admired him, you caught the way his brown eyes flickered down to your lips and you inhaled sharply, the breath catching.

"i, uh—can i kiss you?" his words were gentle, but they rang through your ears loudly, causing chaos and mayhem that left you feeling like a nervous wreck, "unless i'm reading this wrong."

you parted your lips to speak but nothing came out. all you could do was look down at his lips and nod, hoping that your movements spoke volumes. thankfully, they did.

angus leaned forward, hesitating for a second, but if you could will your way forward to adventuring boston alone, then you could sure as hell will your way forward to meet him halfway. you leaned forward bravely and closed your eyes just as your lips met his, a tingling sensation rolling waves over your skin.

it was a simple kiss, one that made your lips numb when you pulled away and looked up into his eyes. but it wasn’t enough for angus because you were soon pulled into another as his hand lifted and cupped your jaw, keeping you against him as your lips moved together at a gentle, easy pace. he parted your lips with his own, which gave him the space to slip his tongue into your mouth and cause a soft sound to escape your lips. you were fully entranced by him, completely malleable under his touch as you tasted his tongue on your own—sweet like chocolate.

this went on for a few minutes, maybe longer. you two indulging in the kiss you both were anticipating the moment you set eyes on each other.

“this sucks,” you murmured when the kiss finally broke, you two parting to breathe.

“why?” angus furrowed his brows slightly, his hand still on your jaw.

“because i really like you,” you said, pursing your lips into a pout, “and at some point i’m going to have to say goodbye.”

angus shared the sentiment, frowning slightly, “i’ll come to boston again, okay?” he said, just as passionate about you as you were to him, “and if you give me your number i promise to call you.”

you nodded, sighing and watching the way your warm breath fogged up in the cold air. the city was so silent and you’d never been able to experience it quite like this, let alone with a boy you kissed. knowing that it was getting late, though, left you nervous. you had told your parents you wouldn’t be out long and would go to your sister's apartment downtown for a ride back home—leave it up to a boy like angus tully to make it fun to break the rules.

“when do you go back to barton?” you asked him quietly like you didn’t want to hear the answer.

“the day after tomorrow,” angus murmured, his thumb stroking along the skin over your cheek, “i’m gonna’ try visit my dad tomorrow,” he said, “that’s the whole reason i convinced mr. hunham to bring me here, he doesn’t even know.”

you widened your eyes in surprise, “do you think he’ll let you go?”

“probably not, but i’ll find a way.” he said, but not quite fully convinced.

“it’ll work out, angus,” you said, a shiver running up his spine as you said his name, “just like you and me. i’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

he was glad that you managed to see the bright side in all of this, as the night was coming to an end he was beginning to let his negative thoughts pull through. already he could tell that you were going to be a big part of his life, even if it ended up being fleeting and short.

“come on,” angus breathed out, removing his hand from your cheek and standing up. he offered his hand for you to take.

“where are we going?” you asked him, blinking a few times as you took his hand, no mittens or gloves in the way as his fingers interlaced with yours.

“nowhere in particular,” he said, keeping you close as you walked through the quiet boston streets in the early morning hours and spending the last bit of freedom together that you two could muster.

when all was said and done, you found yourself exhausted as you curled up in your bed with the first bit of sunrise spilling through your curtains. it was a bittersweet end to your night with angus, leaving you uncertain about what the future would hold. all you knew was that you’d be waiting for that phone call he promised you.

and taking down your poster of david cassidy.

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #the holdovers #dominic sessa #angus tully fic #the holdovers fic #wordsbyspatial #spatialanswers

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cha-melodius · 9 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks to @three-drink-amy and @orchidscript for the tags! Posting for accountability that I did, in fact, start writing the You've Got Mail AU over the last few days. (FWIW, this is going to be a long fic, which means it's not seeing the light of day any time too soon. But there are other things in the works too, so keep your eye out!)

What would You've Got Mail be without emails? So please, have some emails.

To: A <[email protected]> From: H <[email protected]> Subject: Changing Seasons Dear A, There’s something magical about the time when the seasons are just beginning to turn, don’t you think? The leaves are just starting to be tinted yellow in those trees that panic at the first sign of a chill, and the air has a crispness that you can practically smell. Well, maybe one could if one didn’t live in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world. I got a hint of it this morning, though, when I was taking David for a walk in the park. Soon I’ll need to wear a jacket, which is the best type of weather, if you ask me. If you’re wondering why I’m nattering in about the weather, it’s because I’m avoiding the fact that I’m to meet with my brother today concerning the family business. They’re expanding into a new venture shortly, and I’m expected to take a larger role in this one. I tell myself it won’t be all bad, but the whole business is just… not me. If only they’d just leave me to my books and forget I exist. Sometimes I dream of running off to the wilderness and hiding from the world, but would I be able to get a proper pot of tea? Anyway, I shouldn’t bore you further with my woes, minor such as they are. I hope your day is considerably less vexing than mine will be. Yours, H To: H <[email protected]> From: A <[email protected]> Subject: Re: Changing Seasons H, First off, you could never bore me, so jot that down. Seriously, your “woes” don’t seem that minor. To put it far less eloquently than you: that shit sucks, yo. You’re always welcome to complain in my inbox. You’re wrong (what’s new?) about the weather, though. I was born and bred for the heat and the sun. The coming of fall is like a fucking harbinger of doom. Most of the time the life I have here makes up for it, though. I don’t think I could do the wilderness, but not because of the lack of tea (lack of excellent coffee? maybe). I love how full of life the city is, how you can be so close to that many other people but somehow still so anonymous, how something is always happening. My day will probably be about the same as every other one, but I don’t mind. Sometimes a little boring is a good thing. Wish I could take your place at your meeting, though, I’d talk circles around your dickhead brother. I used to be in law school, did I ever tell you that? I’m SO fucking good at arguing. He wouldn’t even know what hit him. You can imagine me with you, if it helps, and feel free to unload your frustration later. I’m always in your corner. A

Tagging @celeritas2997, @cricketnationrise, @celaestis1, @rmd-writes, @welcometololaland (mostly because of your comment on the poll lmao), @mirilyawrites, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

#wip wednesday #my wips #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #false dichotomy

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tk-productions · 2 years

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The Alpha & His Little Witch: Eternity: Chapter 10 Discharge

Previous chapter

Davina’s Pov

I had talked to Marcel and he told me everything was fine but to stay home, Obviously I didn’t listen.

“I can't just stay here and not do anything Kat!” I yelled frustratedly over the phone.

“Vina calm down. Look, let's go together and help fight. We need to protect the coven.” I know she was right. It was my job to protect them.

“Meet me at our spot.” I told her hanging up the phone and running out the door.

Making my way towards my parents home something didn't feel right. I looked over at Katherine and she had a worried look on her face. We made eye contact for a split second before running faster towards the coven.

“Oh my god.” Kat gasped at the scene in front of us. The once peaceful coven town square was now filled with dead bodies that were mostly werewolves. I looked up and saw Marcel toss a werewolf into a nearby building. It let out a loud whine as it landed into the building. I ran towards Marcel calling his name.

“Vina wait!” Kat yelled after but I kept running to Marcel. Marcel whipped around fast enough to catch me in his arms.

“Hey I need you to go with Katherine.”

“No I have to help. Where are my parents?!” I cry out trying to walk past Marcel but she stepped in front of me blocking my view.

“Let's find them and let Marcel finish.” Kat said from behind me. I turned to look at her but she was focused on Marcel with a distraught look on her face. I turned back to Marcel and he wore the same look.

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking like that?” I questioned looking around. My eyes panned towards a body and I stepped back in shock

‘No.” I whispered with tears forming in my eyes. I ran towards the body and fell to my knees.

“Annie no!” I scream reaching out to touch her cold body. Hot tears fell from my eyes “we have to get her to a hospital!” I cried out looking up at Marcel and Kat.

“Baby she’s gone.” Marcel told me, wrapping his arms around me.

“No she’s not! She just needs a doctor!” I screamed in disbelief pushing Marcel off. I couldn’t believe it. Annie couldn’t be gone, she just couldn’t.

Kat kneeled next to me, eyes drenched in tears just as much as mine. “Vina she’s ....” Kat hiccuped. “She’s gone.”

“Come on let's get you guys out of here.” Marcel said

“Nooo! I won’t leave her like this. I can’t.” I screamed holding onto Annie’s body. I no longer had control of my emotions. My tears poured out making it hard to see. Marcel picked me up and I clung to him crying.

“We can’t just leave her here. She won’t be at peace.” I cried.

“I’m already on that baby but I can’t let you stay here ok.” he said as he started walking. Kat followed us hesitantly as she was still focused on Annie.

We ended up at my mother's office. I also saw Annie's mom who was completely hysterical. Why would they do this? Why would they attack us when we’ve done nothing. As Marcel put me down my dad cleared his throat.

“What are you doing here Marcel?” My father asked

“I asked him to come dad.” I said sitting down in the chair next to my moms desk. Feeling light headed from all my crying. Kat came and sat next to me.

“The real question is why the nightwalker pack would attack you?” Marcel asked hotly.

“That’s none of your business.” My father said coldly.

“That’s Enough David! He helped us a great deal today.” my said calmly. Before turning her attention to marcel. “This matter is personal Marcel i’m sorry.”

“It’s not personal anymore. The nightwalkers don’t attack just anybody especially in broad daylight.” Marcel stated flatly.

I groaned in irritation before jumping as I felt something wasn’t right. I felt a huge surge of energy and it matched mine in a way, but it wasn’t mine. “Yo did you guys feel that?” I asked aloud.

“Feel what?” Kat asked confused

“I just felt this huge surge of energy. I said looking around “ I’m guessing you guys didn’t feel it.” I said shaking my head “never mind.”

“You ok baby.” Marcel asked sounding concerned

“I’m fine.” I confidently lied. “We need to plan the ceremony for our fallen friends and get their stones ready.” I said, tearing up again as I thought of Annie.

“She will have a proper burial honey.” My mom assured me And I just nodded in return

“So are you gonna tell me why the nightwalkers attacked you or not.” Marcel asked impatiently.

“As you know there's a curse on the nightwalkers that forces them to stay in wolf form.” Aaliyah replied “Joseline my great grandmother and former leader of this coven was responsible for that.”

“I thought this coven didn’t allow dark magic?” Marcel asked, confused.

“She was forced to step down after she put the curse on them. Why it was so important I don’t know.” Aaliyah responded shrugging her shoulders.

Marcel nodded understanding the situation. “I guess the real question is why are they barely attacking you now? “I’ll leave a couple of my warriors to keep an eye out. Alright?”

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Especially after our last encounter.” Aaliyah thanked him.

“Yea don’t worry about it.” Marcel said before walking over to me. “Let’s get you back home.” His voice now soft.

“Ok” I nodded, taking hold of my hand, he pulled me up, guiding me outside he started to shift.

I looked at him confused, he mindlinked me. “Get on, I don’t have my car.”

“Oh” I said aloud feeling a bit dumb before climbing on his back. He took off running towards home and I have to admit it was kind of fun but my mind kept circling back to that random surge of energy I knew Something wasn’t right.

Walking into the house I went straight to the couch, sat down and stared at the wall trying to process everything that happened in the past hour.

“Did you see her?” I asked him quietly as he sat down next to me.

“Yeah I did, too many were coming at me and I couldn’t get to her.” His deep voice was now softened in order to comfort me.

I nodded in return. I threw my head back against the couch. I didn't know how to feel. Between fighting with Marcel, losing Annie and that weird energy surge it was too much to process. Everything came crashing down all at once, spinning out of control. Before I had time to fix one problem another one arose. I sat there lost in my thoughts with wet cheeks as the hot tears started to fall down. I heard Marcel call my name but I didn't have the energy to respond.

“Come here.” he cooed pulling me into his lap. “I know there's a lot on your mind right now but we’ll get through this together.” I wrapped my arms tighter around Marcel and cried harder than before.

A couple days later….

Today was the last day I can see Annie before she was put to rest along with the other fallen of that day. I sat in silence getting ready to mourn the loss of my friend once again.

Looking into my mirror I couldn’t help but yawn. “I’m so tired. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Sure it wasn’t me.” Marcel asked with a smirk.

“I will slap you alpha or not!” Kat snapped giving Marcel a threatening look.

Marcel flinched forward as I slapped him in the back of his head. “Not a good time for your shit ok.”

“You are lucky this is a funeral.” Marcel said, holding the back of his head walking away.

“Yea love you too.” I said with a smile before turning back to Kat. “Now you see what I deal with.”

“Mhm” Kat nodded and went back to brushing her hair.

“Nice not to fight with him for once.” I sighed in relief.

“We should finish up. We have to get there early to greet everyone.” I told Kat.

Walking up to the venue Marcel stopped me. “Move” I asked, trying to go around him.

Blocking me again, Marcel spoke.“There’s a little problem.”

“Ok we can talk about it later. Today is about Annie.” I said pushing him to the side walking to Annie’s burial spot only to find it empty.

“That’s the problem. Her body’s missing.”

“When did this happen? How did this happen!?”

“She’s been gone for a couple hours according to the others.” Aaliyah said nodding towards Stephenie and Lisa.

“We need to find what happened!” I yelled. This can't be happening. Everything around me started to spiral.

“Why is everyone just standing here? Go find her!”

“She’s not in the area I've already done a sweep.”

I placed my hand on my forehead slightly stressed. I looked over to my parents.

“Well what are we gonna do now? We can't just stand here!” I yell, becoming more frustrated.

“Calm down we-”

“No! Everyone keeps telling me to calm down but how can I when Annie is missing?”

“I should’ve got here sooner, none of this would’ve happened.” I said ready to cry again. Why do things always happen to me?

“Baby this isn’t your fault. Someone is obviously fucking around.” Marcel said looking around us.

“You think so?” I asked.

“Yea especially since you felt that surge the other day.

“You think that’s linked to Annie’s body disappearing?”

“It very well could be.”

Unknown Pov

I stood over Annie’s dead body as I finished placing my candles. I kneeled closer to her. “You will be a perfect addition to my team.” Smirking as I moved a piece of hair from her face.

“It’s time.” I loudly spoke getting the attention of my team.

We formed a circle grabbing each other's hands. All of us focusing on Annie as we started to chant the dark magic flowing around us was incredible. Davina couldn’t know so much power if she tried.

Annie opened her eyes then suddenly started to scream. “Calm down what the hell is wrong with you!” I yelled at her

“Davina?” Annie asked as she looked at me.

“Obviously your vision is a little hazy. I’m not Davina.” I told her

She looked at me more focused. “Your right my vision was hazy. Davina’s prettier.”

“I just brought your sorry ass back from the dead. Keep it up I'll kill you again myself.” I snapped

#oc #oc story #romance #micheal b jordan #ryan destiny #witch aesthetic #witches of tumblr #witchyvibes #alpha #blackcast

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rostovs-lover · 3 years

Text

roy rogers

brian may x reader | cursing, some suggestive language, a little bit of anxiety, alcohol consumption | she/her pronouns | fluffy? slow-burn?? | wc.3667

i’m low key tempted to make a part two,,

anon : Can I request a super cute fic where Bri needs more money for uni, so he starts offering guitar lessons and the reader has a little brother who really wants to learn how to play, so she signs him up. Maybe her brother is extremely good with a guitar and he has a lot of lessons with Bri. He also sees the reader a lot and he catches feelings HARD. Maybe the reader’s little brother spills something to both of them with the help of the rest of the band and they end of together. I just need major FLUFF

your younger brother thinks his guitar teacher is perfect for you and he’s adamant about getting you together. requests open!!

A Roy Roger’s is a nonalcoholic drink made of cola and cherry grenadine and topped with a maraschino cherry.

Your younger brother, David, practically lived in your apartment. For a fourteen year old he was brilliant and very, very sneaky. Sneaky enough to creep out of your mother’s house in the dead of night and crawl up to the fire escape of your second story apartment.

When you’d stumbled to the kitchen, half asleep, he’d been at the table thumbing through a cookbook. He’d also had the audacity to laugh when you screamed, thinking he was an intruder. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last either.

“One of these days something is going to be thrown at your head,” You hissed, setting a bowl of cereal in front of David, who looked at it with the utmost disgust.

“What is this?”

“Quisp, either eat it or starve.”

He glowered at you, “I like Waffelos,”

“That's so sad, I have no money, its Quisp or nothing.” It was quiet for a while as you both ate, David still looking through your cookbook.

He closed the book, examining the cover as he spoke, “Mum said you have to sign me up for guitar lessons,”

“Mum said what?”

“You have to sign me up for guitar lessons, she’ll pay. I have a well of untapped potential in the musical realm. That's according to her coworker, Deirdre.” He sighed, exasperated, “Mum trusts Deirdre apparently because now I have to learn guitar.”

“Where on earth does mum expect me to sign you up, I mean did she give you any specifics, like a price range? Do you even have a guitar?”

“First, I have mum’s old guitar. Second, she just said lessons. I think she trusts your judgment.”

Despite how much you appreciated your mother trusting your judgment, finding reasonably priced guitar lessons with someone who wasn’t a creep was harder than anticipated. You had collected a handful of flyers and business cards, all offering said lessons. The first call you placed was to a nice old lady looking to take up some spare time by providing lessons but she lived too far away for your mother to drive every week. The next was almost promising until you told Robert MacIntere that the lesson was for your brother, not you and he hung up the phone. One woman had too many cats, another man asked for your shoe size, someone else cursed you out when you said you couldn’t do their outlandish prices. The only promising thing you had gotten was a History professor, a very nice man too. You were thrilled when the lessons had finally been scheduled until he bowed out at the last minute and you were back at square one.

You had almost given up when, one rainy Thursday evening, you found an advert pinned outside of the auditorium. Guitar lessons, not too far away, open every Tuesday and Wednesday after three o’clock. The document was typed, all except a phone number scrawled on the bottom, almost as if an afterthought. You scratched the number on the palm of your hand and called straight away when you got home.

The line wrung for several seconds, “Yo?”

“Hi. Hi, yes I’m calling about a flyer I saw posted at Imperial College? It was an advert for bi-weekly guitar lessons, and your number was on the paper. I was wondering about booking a couple of weeks?”

The person on the line snorted, “Sorry dear, that’s not me. I assume you’re looking for my mate, just one moment and I’ll gather him-” You heard his hand cover the receiver as she called for someone, “Just one sec’ lovie,”

The phone was audibly handed off, “Hello?”

“Hi, um I’m calling about the guitar lessons?”

“Oh!” His voice, “Yes, of course! That's me, are you looking to schedule one?”

You had scheduled for the following Tuesday at four, to meet at his apartment. In the car on the way there, David rambled on about everything he wanted to learn and exactly how ecstatic he was for this. He had named his guitar George, after George Harison, who he admired. On the elevator ride up to Brian’s apartment, David was practically vibrating and he bounced on the balls of his feet as you waited at the door.

The door was opened by a blond, clad in a bathrobe and flannel pyjama pants who puffed at his cigarette as he stared at you, “What brings you here?”

Before you could speak David, who the blond hadn’t noticed until just then, piped up, “The guitar lessons. I’m the one being taught, [Name] is just sitting in.”

“Oh, well come in then, I’ll go and get Brian.” He tucked his cigarette behind him and lead you inside, “Um, make yourselves at home, couch is all yours.” He howled Brian’s name and ducked into the kitchen, snuffing out the smoke in an ashtray.

David got settled on the couch, tugging out his guitar, and you set into a chair. From around the corner rushed a very frantic body, clutching his own guitar. He was very tall, and the black pants he wore made his legs seem unproportionate to his body. What caught your eye the most though was his hair, he had a thick mane of tightly wound black curls, which also added to his height.

“Hi, I’m very sorry about this, I got a touch caught up in a bit of school work.” He settled onto the couch next to your brother, “You must be David, I’m Brian.” He gestured a hand to your brother.

David, ever the charmer, shook firmly as he spoke, “Its pleasure meeting you. I wasn’t quite sure that lessons were even going to happen, no one seemed right, according to mum, but you seem nice! Your guitar is neat. Oh! That's my sister, [Name], I believe you spoke on the phone.”

“We did,” Brian leaned forwards to shake your hand as well, “Its nice to meet you,”

A better teacher would have been hard to come by. Brian was patient and soft spoken, he worked at your brother’s pace, never rushing past anything he didn’t fully understand. The lesson was only an hour long but it seemed much shorter, with a book in tow you didn’t pay much mind to anything else. That was until you caught yourself glancing over the cover to watch the lesson. Brian was attractive and he had very nice hands. You were somewhat aghast you’d never seen him on campus, he seemed hard to miss.

The lessons became weekly, and despite trusting Brian and his roommate, Roger, you still opted to stay for every one. It was always pleasant, the apartment was nice, Brian was nice, and you had begun to get acquainted with his friends. During the third week, Roger had let it slip that they were in a band. Brian’s face had flushed scarlet and he’d played with his fingers as he explained that it wasn’t anything serious. On that same visit, you’d had a conversation with Roger in the kitchen while he got you a glass of water. He was nice, only half awake at the time, but you’d realized you had an evolution class together at school. He had also given you his number, and David would absolutely not let you hear the end of it.

“Please-” Your brother cried as he threw himself onto your sofa, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in ages. The last one was, what was his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “Chet?”

“Chet Robbins! Chet the safe bet!”

“Chet the safe bet? Did you make that up?”

David smiled, very proudly, “I did! Just now actually, because it's true! Chet, the business student, trust fund child, frat boy. Why not date a drummer?”

“Because I like stability David,”

“[Name] date the drummer. I beg, I plead. He was so into you, he gave you his number!”

“If you will recall, I have his number. Because his number is the apartment number and that's what I called for the lessons. I also refuse to date your teacher’s best friend. How would I approach that, ‘Hi Brian! You’re teaching my brother an instrument, I did your friend last night. How have you been?’”

David gasped in mock disgust, “I never said a word about doing him. You foul wench, I simply implied dinner. Maybe seeing one of his shows.”

“Oh my dear, when you date a drummer it's never just dinner.” You snorted.

“Well, when I date a drummer it will be. Only dinner, no foul play.”

“Please, please keep that attitude for the rest of your life.”

It was quiet as he mulled over your words. You started off, putting away your bag and coat when he abruptly sat up, “You don’t dislike the drummer, in fact, it has nothing to do with him. You don’t like my teacher’s best friend, you like my teacher.” He grinned when your face lit up, “Oh you do, you absolutely do! I’ve never seen you blush that hard.”

“You little twit,” You hissed, “If you say a word about this I will have your head. This stays between us and us only.”

David was sneaky, very sneaky. Your conversation had planted an idea in his head like a seed and every brief glance and soft smile you shared with his teacher was water. He was growing a downright devious plan, with you directly at the center of it.

David, after quietly looking over the house and picking up on Brian’s affinity for science fiction, had been the one to recommend you start reading George Orwell’s 1984. He had also purposely disappeared to the restroom when he caught sight of Brian eyeing the cover.

Brian carefully cleared his throat, “Do you read much Orwell?”

“Oh, Orwell? No, not really. I, um- I read The Road to Wigan Pier for a book club a while ago. Are you a fan?”

“Oh yes,” He smiled, leaning forwards, “I’ve read that, actually. I was in a band a few years back by the same name,”

You cocked your head, closing the book against your finger, “1984?”

“Yes, quite silly, I know. Never was much good at naming.”

“Roger said you’re in a band now, what's that called?”

His cheeks were beginning to pick up a soft pink again, “Um, Queen. Our singer named it-”

David sat back down, “Did I miss anything important?”

Brian looked away and you went back to your book. The only noise became the guitar residing between the two boys on the couch. David had learned enough to start on a song, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash. It was recognizable enough to draw your attention, and it was lovely at first until it was all David played. When you returned home, when you visited your mother, he played it so much you had memorized the fingering to it.

It was at another lesson, several weeks later, when you had been left by your lonesome. David had gone to get a drink and Brian had run to retrieve something from his room. All alone and with nothing to tell you not to you settled into the couch with the guitar and tried at the song. It was choppy, a bit off-key, but mostly there.

“I didn’t know you played?” Brian’s voice was soft but you still jumped, shooting around to find him. Leaned against the back of the sofa he twirled a coin between his fingers, grinning down at you.

You swallowed, “I don’t, no, not really. Dave’s just played this so much I remembered how it looked.”

He propped his chin in his hand, “I think you could be quite good. Just, here-” He slipped the coin between his teeth to reach down, softly grasping your wrist, adjusting your placement on the neck. His hands were warm and it sent a shiver up your spine as he carefully moved your fingers, “That should do nicely, I trust you’ll do well with the right placement.” He was quiet for a moment, silently pondering something, “Friday night we have a show at about ten o’clock, say you come and maybe I could show you something on the guitar afterwards.”

You considered, “Where is it?”

“The Cameo, downtown London.”

“It sounds lovely, very, but I have to admit I’m not big on the downtown London clubs. I actually don’t know where that is. Although I do have a friend whos well versed with the scene, I could ask her to show me there?”

“Wonderful,” He grinned, “It's a date!” Something else David wouldn’t let go of. Usually, all he talked about was the music he learned but now he was enthralled with the prospect of a new romantic venture. You had been informed on exactly how to dress, what makeup to wear, what drink to order. He also picked the exact shade of blue for you to paint your nails.

You called Marilla after your mother picked David up and she had agreed, enthusiastically, to show you to the club. When she arrived you had been called ‘prudish’ and were forbidden to dress yourself. In the very back of your closet was a floral dress you’d bought for a wedding reception that never happened. It was supposed to be returned but you just hadn’t gotten around to it.

“It doesn’t scream rock n’ roll,” She inspected the green fabric under the kitchen light, “But anyone can look like Twiggy with enough eyeshadow so it’ll have to do. You should invest in club clothes, you might have to if anything goes with this guitar player.” Her eyebrows wagged.

You rolled your eyes, taking the dress from her, “Hush, you’re just as bad as David.”

“Your brother?” Marilla snorted, “What's he got to do with this?”

“He's an insufferable little shit, that's what-” You pushed off your top, “At first he tried to get me with the guitar player’s flatmate but when that didn’t work he really pushed Brian and I,”

Marilla was amused, far more amused than you, “He's a cunning thing, I’ve always liked him. Oh boy, now I really want to see your guitarist, Brian was it?”

The club pulsed, dull lights glaring down against everything. It was smokey and smelled of weed and whiskey. The band onstage was far too loud and you clung to Marilla’s hand as she pulled you up to the bar.

“What do you want?” She practically had to yell for you to hear but it went through you, you couldn’t think with all the noise and lights. She sighed and patted your hand, “A Moscow mule and a Roy Roger’s please.” She shouted at the bartender, “It's alright babes, no alcohol, just fancy cherry coke.” You nodded and accepted the drink, taking a tentative sip as you scanned the crowd. The band onstage had seemed to conclude their set but it didn’t make things any quieter. It was overwhelming really, moreso as Marilla started to pull you up to the front.

“Come on, it's almost ten. Your boy’ll be up next!” She settled in front of the stage, rooting you to the spot next to her.

Brian’s flatmate came out, twirling a drumstick between his fingers and he was met with loud cheers. Marilla whooped, waving big up at him. He was followed by the bass player, Brian, and the singer. They were all enthralling, and you were enraptured. The boys on stage looked ethereal, in flowy tops and sparkly makeup. The frontman was clad in glittery jewelry and the bass player wore platform boots. Their music drew you in and eased your nerves about how crowded the club was. The last song had a guitar solo and as he played Brian’s eyes met yours. A rose of warmth bloomed into your cheeks and he grinned, fingering at the chords.

Marilla, immune to none, elbowed you in the ribs, “That's him?!”

You nodded, “It is,”

“Damn girlie! Good for you! But for the record, I think I like the drummer,”

“His name is Roger. If you come backstage with me you can meet him.”

She grinned, “I’m so proud of you, getting connections!” As they finished Roger flung one of his drumsticks into the crowd. You flinched as Marilla’s hand shot out. She squawked as she caught it, quickly tucking it into her pants and taking your hand, pulling you towards the back lounge. She pushed at the thin curtain to the side, slipping in.

It was quieter and you watched people in glamorous outfits dally about. A redhead in hot pants dropped onto the shabby leather sofa, passing glass bottles of something to both the drummer and bassist. The singer was swirling what you could only assume to be a cosmopolitan. He looked up, catching sight of you and Marilla, both looking a bit lost.

“Hello, come come!” The singer waved you over and Marilla practically dragged you.

“You are spectacular!” She raved, “All of you, magical!” She tugged the stick out of her waistband and made her way to the drummer.

You cleared your throat, “You really are amazing, you have a lovely voice.”

The brunette smiled, “Thank you! I’m Freddie by the way, our charming drummer is Roger. The lovely John plays bass and Brian should be around here somewhere, he plays the guitar.”

“It's nice to meet you, Freddie, I’m [Name]. I was actually looking for Brian,” You twiddled with your fingers, looking down, “He asked to meet here tonight. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is would you?”

“You know, he may have popped to the kitchen. I’ll show you,” Freddie stood up. He seemed to catch your hesitation, glancing back to Marilla, “I’ll keep an eye on her. Roggie really is no harm, he plays much bigger than he actually is, I don’t think he could hurt a soul. Not an undeserving one at least.” He started towards the kitchen with you in tow.

Aforementioned kitchen was small and shockingly clean. Your guitarist sat on the counter with a glass of water.

Brian seemed to be in his own world until Freddie caught his attention, “Someone’s been looking for you, my dear,”

Brian looked up, “[Name]! Hello, I’m so glad you came!” He slid off the counter setting his drink down, “Did you bring your friend?”

“I did, she’s become infatuated with Roger though.”

He grinned, “Oh Rog seems to do that to some people.”

“Well, I'll leave you to it!” Freddie called, waving and walking back to the lounge.

When the door shut Brian began to fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, “I left my guitar in the other room, I could go and grab it if you’d still like to learn that song.” He studied your face, “But you don’t look comfortable, are you alright?”

“Yes, this just isn’t really my scene. I’m not used to the noise and everything, there's a lot of people here.”

He smiled sympathetically, “I know, it's crowded. There's a nice little diner just down the road, we could walk there and talk if you’d like.”

You nodded, “Sure, that would be lovely.”

The air was crisp and it brought you back to reality from the club. Brian had lent you an extra sweater he had brought, it was warm but you had to roll the sleeves a few times. It was quiet as you walked, the occasional car rushing past. The sidewalk narrowed as you got closer to the strip of restaurants and you felt the back of Brian’s hand brush yours. You caught his fingers, lacing yours into them and nervously looking up. His expression mimicked yours, jittery and shy and totally taken.

“You look very pretty,” He murmured, thumbing over your knuckles, “That green looks very nice on you.”

You smiled, “Thank you, you look lovely as well.”

“Oh pish posh, this is just stage wear. But I’m glad you think it looks okay, Rog said I looked frumpy.”

You giggled, “Marilla, the one who brought me, called me prudish earlier.”

His laugh was soft, “Well, we can be fashion disappointments to our friends together,” He pulled open the door to MaryAnne’s Diner, holding it for you.

You were settled in a booth waiting for your order when Brian spoke, “David really has potential,”

“With the guitar? I’m not surprised, he's always been good at everything he tries. It's really quite annoying, how brilliant he is.”

“He seems so, a very nice kid. Does he live with you?”

“No no,” You smiled, “No he lives with our mum, he just sneaks out to see me more than he should. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for letting me sit in, I know it's not common practice. I just worry about him, he seems so much older than he actually is and I’m worried it’ll get him in trouble one day.”

Brian patted your hand, “Oh darling, I understand. I really don’t mind at all, I’m glad I met you.”

“I’m glad I’ve met you as well.”

He had walked you home, contently explaining the story behind one of the constellations he saw.

He stalled at the door, keeping your hand in his, “So I suppose I’ll see you next week?”

“Absolutely,”

He moved one hand to push a piece of hair out of your face, “Well until then I suppose,”

You leaned up, closing in on him. You felt his hot breath against your cheeks, “Is this okay?”

He nodded, “More than,” And pulled you into him.

He was as gentle in kissing you as he was in everything else, carefully nudging his nose against yours. His mouth was warm and he stroked your mandible, easing deeper into the kiss. He relished in the taste of maraschino cherry from the Roy Roger’s you’d had earlier. You gasped softly as he nipped at your bottom lip, pulling away. The lipgloss he had been wearing was smeared against the corner of your mouth and he carefully wiped at it with his thumb.

David would never let you hear the end of this either.

#Brian May #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #Queen #queen imagine #queen x reader #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagines #queen #lennie writes

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wannabespacesmuggler · 3 years

Text

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Empty Booth

Chapter Three | Masterlist

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: Happy New Years! Hope y’all enjoy yet another chapter of this simple, fluffy coffee shop-esque au with our favorite devilishly handsome pirate. Also, my ask is always open for your guys’ suggestions. Would love to continue this fluff and incorporate some of your ideas. Hope you enjoy some much needed wholesome fluff to end this terrible year.

Extras: Playlist -- A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

You like routine and consistency. Working the morning shift at Granny’s has allowed you to realize that. You wake up in your small apartment before the sun rises every morning and drink a cup of coffee on your windowsill before bundling up for your short walk to the diner. You always open the diner. Ashley, the other waitress that works the morning shift with you, always comes in around ten minutes after you open and promises she’ll open the next day; she has never lived up to that promise in the months that you’ve worked with her, but you’re not going to complain about it. You serve the same customers every morning and listen to their stories, often the same stories you’ve listened to before. It may seem mundane and repetitive to anyone else, but, to you, it’s an enjoyable start to your day.

The biggest change in your routine occurred when Killian Jones walked into the diner for the first time, but even he has become a consistent part of your everyday life.

Maybe that’s why you feel so distraught this morning.

The bell above the diner’s door rings, signaling that a new customer has entered the establishment. Your attention immediately gets drawn to the sound, pulling you from your thoughts. A wave of disappointment washes over you once again as you watch yet another regular walk into the diner and greet the other patrons. And the disappointment only deepens when you find no tan pickup parked outside.

You sigh before returning your attention to the table in front of you, covered in dirty dishes. You slip the tip they left for you in the pocket of your apron before gathering the dishes and bringing them to the back of the diner. On your way back to the front counter, you pick up a new rag and begin to wipe down the surface. Without thinking, you check your watch again.

“Alright, what’s going on with you?”

You close your eyes and try to get yourself back in check. He cannot be the reason that you feel so frazzled this morning, that doesn’t make sense. He’s just like any other customer you serve at the diner.

Except he’s not. You know that. There’s something special about him.

“What are you talking about?”

You move to stand in front of Emma from behind the counter, leaning your elbows on the surface. You were hoping that no one would notice your strange behavior; however, David had decided to go into the station early which gave Emma the morning off. This now allowed her to sit at the diner and watch you get in your own way.

“You seem distracted this morning.”

“Guess I just feel thrown off is all.”

You shrug nonchalantly and turn around to make some more coffee.

“He got called into the night shift today, ya know?”

You stop in your tracks. Your eyes squeeze shut as you take a deep breath. She read you like a book. Not that it was hard.

“He called David this morning to reschedule their plans. You didn’t scare him off.”

Emma’s tone is playful, she means nothing from the jab. But, nevertheless, you turn around to face her with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You cross your arms over your chest as Emma raises a brow at your words.

“Really?”

“Really.”

You turn back around and actually start to make another pot of coffee. It is quiet for a couple of seconds, but, before you can even hope that Emma dropped the subject, she speaks up again.

“You two just seem to be getting close.”

You sigh and turn to face her again, leaning against the back counter.

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s not bad. It’s actually really good.”

“C’mon, he’s just one of my customers.”

Emma raises a brow at your comment.

“I know Killian. He doesn’t get close. So this is something…”

“He’s just a friend, Emma.”

You know you shouldn’t have cut her off, but you don’t need Emma saying something that might get your hopes up. He’s just a nice guy who comes in for a cup of coffee in the morning and you just so happen to be a waitress at the diner he goes to. All the small talk and smiles and laughter are just part of the job. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Okay. So you wouldn’t mind if I gave one of my friends at the library his number? She’s been asking about him.”

“No, I think that’d be great.”

Emma nods and seems to let it go for now. You’re glad - you just wish your heart didn’t ache so much at the idea of Killian out on a date with someone else.

Emma stands and places a few dollars next to her plate before grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair. You smile at her and she returns it before heading toward the exit. Before she gets too far away, she turns back to you abruptly.

“It’s just, I think he wouldn’t mind if he saw you outside the diner. That’s all.”

You should have just let her comment go and went about your day as normal, but, instead, you found yourself at the docks after sunset looking incredibly lost.

“Can I possibly help you out?”

The young man who offers his assistance can’t be older than twenty. He seems sweet, with his floppy brown hair and gentle smile -- a stark contrast to the man you’re actually here to see.

“I’m looking for Killian Jones. Is he here?”

“Yeah, let me call him for ya.”

You immediately feel uncomfortable. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. What if he’s busy? What if he doesn’t want to see you?

“Yo, Jonesy! You’ve got a visitor.”

Well, it’s too late now.

Killian wanders over to you and the young man. All of your worries seem to disappear as he flashes you a bright smile. He can’t hide the look of surprise on his face. You were the last person that he expected to see today, not that he’s complaining.

“Hey, Jonesy.”

Killian rolls his eyes at you, but his grin doesn’t falter.

“Not you too.”

He practically groans out the words. Obviously the nickname was not picked out by him.

“What? I like it. I think it suits you.”

He cocks his head to the side and continues smiling at you. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Oh.”

You hold up two travel mugs and look up at him excitedly. The look of pure joy on your face warms his heart, he just wishes it would stop doing backflips in his chest at the sight.

“You didn’t come in for coffee today, so I brought coffee to you.”

You hand Killian one of the mugs and he takes it with one of his gloved hands. It’s a small gesture, but it touches Killian. He just didn’t expect anyone to notice that he didn’t show up to the diner this morning. Obviously, he was wrong. His absence was noticed by you.

Killian turns around and searches for the boy that had called him over.

“Hey Herc, I’m taking my break.”

He faces you again and flashes you another smile.

“Want to go for a walk?”

You nod and fall in step beside Killian. For a while the two of you just walk next to the ocean, listening to the waves crash against the coast and drinking your coffee. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind hits you both and sends a shiver down your spine. Killian glances at you, worry etched into his features.

“It’s chilly. I don’t know how you work out here.”

Killian doesn’t know if you meant to move closer to him while speaking or if your subconscious was simply moving you toward the nearest source of heat, but, nevertheless, you were now walking close enough to brush your shoulder against his arm.

“I guess it just doesn’t bother me that much.”

You hum at his words.

“Is this what you want to do?”

Killian shrugs his shoulders. He wonders if that’s enough of an answer, but you continue to walk quietly beside him, waiting for him to continue.

“Not really. It’s not bad though.”

“What would you rather be doing?”

“I’d rather be sailing.”

“Really?”

The surprise in your voice isn’t patronizing. No, he’s heard that before more times than he can count from others he’s told this to. But your surprise seems to stem from your curiosity. It makes Killian chuckle. You’re always so curious; asking him questions about him and his life. It almost seems like you’re invested.

“Yeah. I’ll buy a boat one day and I’ll spend the rest of my days traveling the waters. Nobody bossing me around. Just me and the sea.”

“I could see that.”

Killian glances at you. You’re already looking up at him.

“Yeah?”

“Captain Jones.”

Killian nudges your arm gently with his as a small smile plays at the corners of his lips. You look up at him again. In the soft glow of the street lamps your gaze is almost adoring. Killian has to stop himself from leaning in closer. He clears his throat and takes another sip of his coffee.

“Do you like the ocean?”

“I think it could grow on me.”

Killian smiles at your answer. He thinks it could too. Once you get out there and experience it yourself. Maybe when he buys that boat of his he could take you himself. There he is getting hopeful again.

Instead of playing further into that fantasy, one that will surely work its way into his dreams when he eventually dozes off in the morning, Killian simply enjoys how content he feels right now enjoying a cool night, a warm cup of coffee, and your presence beside him.

Tag list: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire

(Message me to be added to or removed from the tag list)

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years

Note

Ahhhhhh OK so

What the fuck is up Kyle

No what did you say

What the fuck dude

Step the fuck up Kyle

Anywayyyyyy

Still sus of Michael(for the alive or dead thing)

But also I'm kinda thinking that the cohort may or may not be siding with demons

Like their vibe is the same as Valentine's and at the end he sided with demons because of his hatred for downworlders

Buuut who knows

Probably overthinking

I really think lexi should see David in her dream and talk

I know it's not gonna be easy but keeping busy like that (because I know something pretty vital may come) will at least put her mind to one thing instead of well everything

....

Of course it's Alec

Everyone has been calling you out on making Alec ill

At least it's not Alec AND jace?

Yo if he dies I'm suing

Dunno who first but I will

Also you and Cassie really love making the herondale's parabatai sick one way or another don't you?

I feel bad for gigi but I don't think she failed per say

I think she is moving in the right direction

After all the color was right yeah?

I mean who's to say that the angelic thing is not multiple angelic things?

Soo maybe adamas and something else?

I mean I hues will see tho!

Also Me waiting for the next update be like:

Ahhhh. Yeah, I love me some cliffhangers :)

Also, me reading your theories after every chapter like:

ALSO LOVE THE KYLE VINE REFERENCE YOU DA BEST.

#lbaf

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timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic · 3 years

Photo

Chapter 43 - Back In A New York - Er... Seattle Groove

New York City, New York June 29 2017

(Andi is 29, Chris is 52)

ANDI: The air was warm with the sun brightly shining, a perfect summer day for moving. Though this move is going to be a little bit longer than just your typical quick trip and done in a day. Chris is moving back to Seattle - with me of course - somewhere where he hasn't been in very long time. Obviously you all know that it's only been just over a month since I was there - if we are going by my time anyways - ugh, this thing that I have is never easy to explain.

Chris had put the house up for sale as soon as he signed the divorce papers from Vicky. Within a day, he had already received an offer and they were willing to give him a little more than he was asking in order to secure the sale. I mean I don't blame them one bit, it's a beautiful home. Chris accepted and so we pretty much began packing as soon as it was finalized, though there wasn't much in the home to pack. It was basically all of Vicky's left over stuff and a few things of Chris's. Obviously nothing of mine except for the 3 guitars that he had saved over the years.

I don't know what it is though, but I just have this really strange feeling that all of this shouldn't be happening so smoothly. As much as I know that he isn't with Vicky anymore - I mean I saw him sign the divorce papers right in front of me - I just can't shake this strange feeling that it's not supposed to be this easy.

"Ok I think... we've got everything. Here is the address and uh, we'll see you in a couple of days," Chris says as he hands the driver of the moving company some cash then they both sign the delivery and insurance papers.

"No problem, thank you," The driver says as they shake hands, then climbs up into the large moving truck. Chris turns and flips those gorgeous curls out of his face and walks back over to me.

"Ok babe, you ready?" Chris smiles at me, standing in his slim fitted ripped up jeans with the cuffs rolled up over his Doc's and a plain dark grey t-shirt.

"Yea I think so," I exhale, pushing my curls behind my ear, squinting my eyes from the sunlight as I look up at him.

"Alright, road trip time," He says and leans down placing a quick kiss on my lips, then heads over to his 1969 Jet black Dodge Challenger. I smile as I head over to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding into the black leather seat, feeling the heat on the back of my bare thighs. I smooth out my ripped jean cutoff shorts and buckle my seatbelt, adjusting my off-the-shoulder White Zombie - La Sexorcisto tour shirt from '94.

"So when's our flight again?' I ask flipping my dark curls out of my face, leaning back as I glance at him.

"What flight?" Chris asks as he starts the engine.

"Um... I thought we were moving to Seattle - back home to Seattle... right?" I chuckle.

"We are... I never said we had plane tickets though," He says as he pulls out of the driveway for the last time.

"Wait... you're gonna drive us all the way to Seattle?" I ask furrowing my brow for a moment as he drives us down the road towards down town.

"Yea baby, why not?" He smiles at me for a second then turns his attention back to the road.

"Chris, it's like a 2 and a half day drive,"

"Uh huh... and...?" He says as we pull up to a stop light. I glance out the windshield and then back at him, trying to see if he was serious or not, though my bets are pretty much on the former.

"Most of my clothes are pack in the U-Haul truck that already left though," I say.

"Nope, I grabbed the last couple of suitcases that had our clothes in them and packed them in the trunk," He says as the stop light turns green and start moving again.

"Oh... ok... " I trail off for a moment looking back out the windshield.

"What? You don't wanna spend 2 more days on the road with me? " He smirks at me raising his eyebrow.

"No, no it's not that... I just wasn't expecting you to drive us there," I giggle and he smiles at me.

"Well it's been a long time since we took a road trip - that wasn't touring around with the band and well because of what happened- so I thought maybe we could check out some places, do a little sight seeing, y'know... just me and you," He says sweetly.

"Ok sure, that's perfect actually," I smile at him and he reaches over and takes my hand in his, placing his lips to the back of my hand like he always does.

"Can I put on some tunes?" I ask after a few moments, pushing my curls behind my ear as Chris changes lanes.

"No," He says flatly then looks over at me with a smirk. I pat him lightly on his bicep and chuckle, then reach for my phone and connect to the Bluetooth stereo system that was upgraded in the dashboard. I scroll through the Spotify Music app, find some Aerosmith and play the Album 'Get A Grip'

'Wake up kid, it's half past your youth Ain't nothin' really changes but the date You a grand slammer, but you no Babe Ruth You gotta learn how to relate Or you'll be swingin' from the pearly gate Now you got all the answers, low and behold You got the right key baby but the wrong key hole, yo'

I sing - or sorry 'rap' - along with Steven Tyler, closing my eyes and getting right into it as Chris starts laughing.

"Babe you are so cute," He laughs.

"Nah, I just love that part" I giggle as I look down at my phone for a moment.

"I know, that's what makes you so cute," He says sweetly with his blue eyes glancing over at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. Funny how after all this time, he can still make me blush and feel those butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

" I remember when you met Steven for the first time with me at the... what was it... the '94 MTV awards or something - ?" He says thoughtfully.

"Oh my god Chris, no, I'd really rather not remember that," I laugh embarrassingly.

"What-Why? It was adorable, -" He laughs.

"No Chris, How was that adorable? I literally like... fell into him," I gesture with my hands remembering the after party when I apparently had a little too much to drink and lost my footing when I stepped forward to shake his hand and tripped. Chris caught me of course but I was mortified the entire night. I was able to make light of the situation after but honestly, it wasn't my finest moment. If I could've pick a moment to time travel, that would've been the perfect moment so that I could re-do it and not be so embarrassed.

"It was just a little stumble, it wasn't as bad as you think it was... I just remember the look on your face, you were so cute," He chuckles.

" I remember trying to basically hide behind you the whole night after. I'm such a klutz. It was Steven fucking Tyler... like my god," I shake my head at myself.

"You were always so hard on yourself...you still are. I think that's what made me fall in love with you though. You never give up even though you feel like it and just... how you cope with the fact that you can't control... y'know.... and how you are always the first person I could run to when I was - or am - finding it hard to go on, 'cause I'm so hard on myself too," He glances back at me, his blue eyes catching mine and I give him a small smile as I lean my head against the seat while his gorgeous dark curls rest at his shoulders, his beard now fuller than before as he decided to grow it a little.

Fuck, he's so sexy

"That, and you were so fucking gorgeous when you showed up in my bathroom that I didn't know what to do. You scared the shit outta me," He adds as he returns his focus to the road and changes lanes again.

"Scared the shit outta you? Fuck I mean, I knew someday I was gonna meet you when you were 15 but I didn't think it was gonna be like that," I giggle.

"You know I am still so sorry I came at you with a bat... even though that was what... 30-something years ago? " He says thoughtfully with a chuckle. "Fuck I'm old..."

"Chris, you're not old. I love you, and you are still the same to me," I say as I reach over and begin to play with his curls, running my fingers through, then gently play with his earlobe. He turns, placing a kiss on my palm then quickly focuses back on the road.

After about 45 minutes, we finally make our way to downtown New York in which the city was absolutely buzzingly busy. I still was not used to the crazy crowds of people but at least I can say that I lived in New York City even if it was only for a little while. Driving down on of the main streets, Chris decides to pull off into one of the public parking spots which left me a bit confused as to what we were doing.

"I just have to make a stop in Guitar Center, wanna come in with me?" He asks noticing my confused look as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

"Um... Hello, do you know who you're asking here?" I ask as I unbuckle my seat belt and he laughs as I step out of the car. It had been a while since I was in a Music store so of course I didn't mind going in and looking at all the new pretty things.

Chris makes his way around to my side of the car and with a sweet smile on his face, takes my hand in his. We then take a walk from the parking lot down the street to Guitar Center.

Stepping inside Guitar Center is like stepping into a world that is full of shiny beautiful things. Beautiful guitars line the illuminated walls around the store, amps and accessories staged in various places, I swear I'm like a kid in a candy store. I just want everything.

"Hey Chris, how are ya?" A guy with long black hair, straighter than anything, wearing a white dress shirt and tie with black jeans and Doc's calls out to him. He sort of looked a bit like David Wyndorf from Monster Magnet but not flashy like the 'Space Lord' video.

"Hi, good, I'm good, did my order for that effects pedal...." Chris smiles, his voice fading away as I slowly let go of his hand and walk over to the wall of guitars. I can't help it, they are all so beautiful. I continue on while I hear them talk glancing at each Fender Strat, Rickenbacker, Washburn, you name it. I wish I could describe the feeling of seeing them all hung up with their own spotlights waiting for the perfect person to discover what they can do.

Then I see it. The one that suddenly makes my heart all fluttery. An emerald green flame top Gibson Les Paul. It is absolutely gorgeous.

"...alright well good luck in Seattle and uh, if you need anything when you're in New York just give us a shout,"

"Thanks man, I will," Chris says as he walks over to me, placing his hand on the small of my back and following my gaze to the beautiful guitar on the wall. "See something you like?"

"Uh huh," I say, trying to not let my jaw drop to the floor.

"Hey, uh... can we see that, Gibson up there?" Chris turns and calls out to the store rep.

"No Chris, it's ok - " I start but I'm cut off by the David Wyndorf look alike.

"Sure, we actually just got that in yesterday," He says walking over with a reaching contraption to take it down off the hanger. I furrow my brow for a moment but I couldn't take my eyes off the emerald green coloring and how it meshed so well into the finish. He then hands it towards Chris but Chris refuses.

"No sorry, it's for my wife,"

The David Wyndorf look alike raises his eyebrow for a moment and looks at me and I couldn't tell if it was because it was Chris said I'm his wife or because I play. I smile shyly at him and push my curls behind my ear and he sweetly hands it over to me.I glance behind me and see a stool with a little amp that people use for testing. I then sit down and plug in the patch cord and adjust the volume and effects knobs on the amp, and rest the guitar across my lap.

As soon as I start to play, I am instantly in love. the way it feels in my hands, the neck doesn't feel too think, the frets are at the perfect width... the strings kinda suck but I can always change them.

Oh my god I love this thing.

I stop playing for a moment and look up to see Chris looking down at me with such a cute smile on his face. I clear my throat and try to seem like I'm not completely in love with this guitar, but I think Chris knows that I am. He's seen this look on my face before.

"We'll take it," Chris says to the guy.

"Chris no, it's ok," I say as I suddenly feel weird about him buying me guitar. I mean it isn't the first time he's bought one for me,but this is seriously expensive.

Ugh, but I do love it so much though.

"Babe are you kidding? The look on your face, I know you want it," Chris says to me as the David Wyndorf look alike walks away to the front desk to prepare the guitar, by grabbing the case that comes with it.

"Chris, it's a 4000 dollar guitar. I love it but, this is too much," I say quietly as I reach out for his hand and pull him closer to me. The last time he bought one for me it was maybe under 1000. I know it's 2017 now and I get the cost of inflation, but this seems a little too much to me.

"No baby it isn't too much... c'mon," Chris smiles sweetly at me and helps me up from the stool. With the beautiful guitar in my hand, I unplug it and walk with him over to the counter register while the loo alike rings up the guitar. Chris takes the guitar from me and hands it over to him gently while I glance over the accessory display and pick out some new strings. It's been so long since I've had a new guitar and though I still feel a little uneasy about him spending this much money on me, I really, really love that guitar.

Once everything was rung through - Chris with his new pedal and I with my new guitar - we head out of the store and back to the car. Once I place the guitar in the back seat, I slide into the passenger side as Chris starts up the car and we head back out on the road, making our way through the rest of downtown New York. Everyone and a while I glance back in the backseat admiring the leather guitar case, knowing that emerald green beauty is safe inside and try to resist the temptation to play it until we get to Seattle. Or at least a hotel along the way.

"Thank you," I say quietly still looking at the guitar case in the back seat as we finally make it onto the highway.

"For what?" Chris smiles at me glancing quickly at me then back to the road.

"For the guitar, and for... well... everything," I say still looking at the guitar as Chris glances at me again. I then look back at him and he reaches over to me cupping my cheek in his palm and I lean into his palm closing my eyes, catching the fresh scent of his cologne.

"You don't have to thank me babe. I love you," He says glancing back at the road and then back at me. "And I always loved that look on your face when you would get excited over a new guitar - I still do," He adds chuckling.

"I love you too," I say as he slides his palm from my cheek and I take his hand, placing a kiss on the back before he places it back on the steering wheel, then I glance back at the beauty in the backseat.

"Me? Or the Guitar?" He smirks and I laugh as we head down the highway.

#time travel #Time After Time #alternate universe #fantasy #soundgarden #chris cornell #chris cornell fanfiction #soundgarden fanfiction

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watusichris · 3 years

Text

A Mile or Two in Joe South’s Shoes

My 2016 Joe South career retrospective, restored from Internet Purgatory.

**********

If you know anything about the true breadth of Joe South’s talents, it’s remarkable to consider that if he is known for anything at all today, it’s for just two songs.

For a hot minute in 1969-70, South looked like he was on the way to a major career. “Games People Play,” the tune that introduced him to the public at large, rose to No. 12 on the national singles chart; a radio ubiquity, it captured two Grammy Awards in 1970, as song of the year and best contemporary song. A year after that breakout hit, he rose to the same chart slot with the stomping, soulful “Walk a Mile in My Shoes,” a number that would be covered in short order by Elvis Presley.

After those two signature songs, Joe South pretty much disappeared off the American pop landscape. It was an astonishing vanishing act, for, in terms of sheer reach and ability, he came as close to genius as a musician can get. He was one of those cats who could do it all.

He wrote almost all of his own material; before his late-‘60s emergence, he had already made his mark writing for others – most notably fellow Georgian Billy Joe Royal – and one of his songs, “Rose Garden,” became one of the biggest country hits of 1970-71 in Lynn Anderson’s hands.

South had all the chops to put across his material. He was a terrific, expressive baritone vocalist. Perhaps more importantly, he was a dynamite guitar player who had honed his craft as an A-list session man in New York and Nashville. And he knew his way around the studio booth, too. He produced nearly all of his own records, and they were big, opulent sides, dressed with strings, horns, and chorales (in the manner of Chet Atkins’ countrypolitan sessions, Atlantic Records’ castanet-snapping R&B outings, and Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound). Yet at the core of South’s early records was the gutbucket sound produced by his family band, the Believers.

Though you could broadly categorize South’s music as “pop,” there was nothing weak or watered-down about his stuff. Like any musician who grew up in the South, he was reared on country music, and all his singing and picking reflected those roots. His style also had a strong R&B backbone and backbeat – not surprising, since one of his early hits as a songwriter, “Untie Me,” was for the Atlanta beach music act the Tams. And he could rock hard, and was unafraid to use the studio tools at his disposal for up-to-the-minute effects: Many of South’s most interesting tracks are overtly psychedelic.

Joe South was primed to go places – almost anywhere he wanted to go, really – but a predisposed dislike for the necessities of the music business, the usual rock ‘n’ roll pitfalls of drugs and alcohol, and, most critically, a devastating family tragedy knocked him out of the game when a brilliant career appeared his for the taking.

He was born Joseph Souter in Atlanta in 1940. His family was attuned to music and the arts: His father played guitar and mandolin, and his mother wrote poetry. He began playing guitar at an early age, while his younger brother Tommy took up the drums. Like many Southern households, the Souters tuned in to the Grand Ole Opry on Nashville’s WSM, as well as the popular local DJ Uncle Eb Brown on WGST.

“Brown” was the air name of Bill Lowery, who had been a mover and shaker in Atlanta’s music community since the early ‘50s as a broadcaster, station executive, and music publisher. It’s said that in an attempt to advance his musical aspirations, young Joe Souter boldly went to visit Lowery during his radio shift. No doubt impressed by his spunk, Lowery took the wannabe performer under his wing. One of his first pieces of advice was that Souter should change his name to the regionally reflective Joe South.

Beginning a professional and personal relationship that would survive for nearly five decades, Lowery brought 18-year-old college dropout South on board at his new independent record label, National Recording Corporation. The young picker was at first employed as a member of NRC’s house band, which also included the future recording stars Jerry Reed and Ray Stevens.

South began cutting singles in his own right for NRC, in varying pop, rock ‘n’ roll, and rockabilly settings. His lone chart record for the company came in 1958: “The Purple People Eater Meets the Witch Doctor,” a sort-of-sequel to two recent novelty smashes, Sheb Wooley’s “Purple People Eater” and David Seville’s “Witch Doctor.” Bouncing onto the chart briefly at No. 47, it was the only bright spot during his time on the label, which went bankrupt in 1961.

He continued to work as a performer, cutting singles unprofitably for the indies Fairlane and AllWood and for MGM, the former home of Hank Williams. But he began to hone his chops as a behind-the scenes player with his writing, playing, and production. He made his first mark with “Untie Me,” which became a No. 12 entry on the U.S. R&B charts in 1962.

He made his biggest impact in 1965-67 as writer and producer of Marietta, Georgia-born Billy Joe Royal’s hits on Columbia Records. Their partnership was announced with the propulsive poor-boy-loves-rich-girl saga “Down in the Boondocks,” which climbed to No. 9 in 1965. Royal road-tested such other South compositions as “Leanin’ On You,” “Rose Garden,” “Yo-Yo,” and “Hush.” The latter track reached No. 52 on the Hot 100 in 1967, but became better known in a 1968 cover by British hard rockers Deep Purple.

South also left his imprint via several noteworthy sessions. He played guitar on Simon & Garfunkel’s first bona fide electric sessions, which became the bestselling 1966 folk-rock album Sounds of Silence. He contributed guitar and bass during the Nashville recording dates for Bob Dylan’s groundbreaking two-LP 1966 set Blonde On Blonde. And in 1967, in the company of FAME Studio’s crack Alabama rhythm section, he laid down the signature guitar licks on Aretha Franklin’s hit “Chain of Fools.”

By 1968, Joe South had little left to prove, and Bill Lowery helped midwife a deal for his protégé at Capitol Records, already the home of such progressive pop-country talent as Glen Campbell and Bobbie Gentry. South was given extraordinary latitude for his first album: He produced the collection, wrote all of the material, and played lead guitar, backed by the Believers, a group that included his brother Tommy on drums and his wife, Barbara, on keyboards.

The resultant LP, Introspect, is an impressive piece of work that didn’t sound quite like anything else on the market. It was a widescreen sound, immense and layered, but at bottom down-home and funky. It drew from several stylistic tributaries. Its lead-off track “All My Hard Times” was an updated rewrite of the old spiritual “All My Trials.” The mocking “Redneck” was a loping countrified lampoon that can be seen as an early anthem of the New South; “These Are Not My People” was an alienated piece of similarly styled, Dylanesque social commentary. The strikingly trippy “Mirror of Your Mind” bore a startling out-of-time passage in its middle, while the equally expansive “Gabriel” was a psychedelic parable cut straight out of the Old Testament.

As great and unique as it was, Introspect was a marketplace failure, and Capitol’s accountants yanked it off the market just as a single drawn from it was beginning to make some noise.

Sporting a unique lead guitar line -- fabricated by South on either, depending on which source you believe, a Coral electric sitar or a Gibson Bell guitar fed through an outboard Echorette echo unit -- and a lyrical hook derived from the title of Eric Berne’s 1964 pop-psychology bestseller, “Games People Play” became a slow-rolling hit. Realizing they may have deleted Introspect prematurely, Capitol decided to capitalize on the song with a hybrid new album.

The Games People Play album – essentially a second debut album for South – resuscitated the title track, “These Are Not My People,” and, in an expanded psyched-up version, the song “Birds of a Feather” (which would appear on three of South’s six Capitol collections). To these were added a couple of new originals (including “Hole in Your Soul,” a frenzied vocal version of the Believers’ two-sided psychedelic instrumental single “Soul Raga”), remakes of several early-‘60s compositions for the Tams and Royal, and a potent rendition of South’s Brill Building-styled 1963 single for MGM, “Concrete Jungle.”

This bizarrely reconfigured opus failed to make any waves, but South gained some name recognition with his “Games People Play” Grammys. Moreover, he made some longer commercial strides with 1969’s Don’t It Make You Want to Go Home? The LP, which ultimately reached No. 60, sported not one but two hit singles: the title cut, a poignant look at the toll wreaked by modern life upon the Southern landscape, and the visceral, gospel-styled “Walk a Mile in My Shoes.” It also contained the most hallucinogenic entry in the South catalog: “A Million Miles Away,” a dense instrumental overlaid with a recitation of the album’s personnel and an extract from a telephone call between South and some staffers at the Nixon White House.

These ambitious records might have suggested to some that South’s potential was unlimited. But there was a problem: He didn’t like to tour, and was at heart a studio animal. He also didn’t respond well to the intense pressure of coming up with material that wouldn’t just equal the sales of his chart records, but would better them.

Perhaps in a hope of shaking things up, the 1971 album Joe South was recorded on home turf at Atlanta’s Studio One, where the Atlanta Rhythm Section was the hot session band of the hour. But -- save for “Rose Garden” (included to cash in on Anderson’s enormous hit with the song) and the “Brown Eyed Girl”-like “Birds of a Feather” (it was the third time around for this belated single release) -- the material, a mix of tepid new tunes and recut warhorses, was scarcely South’s best. The disinterest seemed to carry over on the second LP South issued that year, So the Seeds Are Growing; only seven of the album’s 10 tracks were original compositions.

The disenchanted South’s drug use had begun to escalate, and his brother Tommy, who suffered from depression, was also self-medicating. A turning point came on Oct. 11, 1971, when the younger South took his own life.

The immediate result of this tragedy was South’s final Capitol album, A Look Inside, released in 1972. The LP jacket bore a cover photo of South with an open window in his skull, and the most confessional songs on this dark, unsettling record mirror the graphic perfectly. Its first two songs, “Coming Down All Alone” and “Imitation of Living,” are candid and frightening reflections on drug addiction, and they have lost none of their power. But the record’s true killer, which kicks off with a tart quote of the “Game People Play” melody, is the ironically titled “I’m a Star,” possibly the most blunt, world-weary, and self-reflective deflation of the music industry ever released.

It was a record made by an artist at the end of his tether. As South said frankly in the notes to what proved to be his final album, “I flipped out. I just went completely into the ether in the wake of my brother’s death. I just had to get away, so I went out to the islands, caught Polynesian paralysis and just lived in the jungles of Maui for a couple of years.”

He returned, briefly, in 1975, for his lone release for Island Records, Midnight Rainbows. Though it began promisingly with the fittingly introspective original medley of “Midnight Rainbows” and “It Got Away,” the album – again employing members of the Atlanta Rhythm Section – is disappointingly short on new original material; its strongest tracks are wrenching covers of Jerry Butler’s “For Your Precious Love” and Johnny Adams’ “You Can Make It If You Try.”

The last track on Midnight Rainbows is an instrumental titled “Cosmos,” and that’s exactly where Joe South headed. He was virtually invisible on the public stage from the release of that last LP until his death on Sept. 5, 2012, in Flowery Branch, Georgia. Before Bill Lowery’s death in 2004, he issued a couple of singles on his old sponsor’s independent labels: “Jack Daniels On the Line” for 1-2-3 Records in 1981, “Royal Blue” for Southern Tracks in 1986.

The last work he released during his lifetime arrived as a bonus track on the Australian label Raven’s 2010 repackaging of So the Seeds Are Growing and A Look Inside. Sung by South in a charred latter-day voice, “Oprah Cried” is an apparently faithful account of his appearance on Oprah Winfrey’s talk show, where his story of life’s hard knocks moves the hostess to tears. “Son, I thought I’d heard it all,” she tells him.

Considered in light of what might have been for Joe South, it’s one of the saddest damn songs ever written.

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eirian-houpe · 3 years

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The Pawn Shop On Main Street - Chapter 2

Fandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Mad Hatter | Jefferson & Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold

Additional Tags: Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Angst, Romance, Eventual Smut, Will add more as apropriate

Summary: Gold is suddenly awakened from the curse, not by the fail-safe that he programmed into his mind, but by the unexpected presence of his long lost maid, with whom he fell in love well before Regina cast his Dark Curse, Rumplestiltskin must now find a way past Belle's disbelief and fear. She is still under the influence of the curse. With the help of his dear - his oldest - friend, Gold seeks a way past obstacles so that he can rekindle the love which he rejected back in the Dark Castle.

The story is set in the same 'verse as The Library Beneath the Clock Tower, and could be considered a sequel of sorts.

Read previous chapters on AO3

Chapter 2 - The Lock On the Door

If anyone had asked, he couldn’t have said how long he sat there, spent, a lump in the darkness like an abandoned sack of potatoes, staring over the top of the revelers and into the sky. He watched the stars move, the moon set, and the horizon darken toward dawn, and still he didn’t move, lost in memory, and the pain of memory, and the ecstasy of one sweet moment he denied himself… denied her.

Finally, as the flickering embers of the bonfire collapsed into a glowing, almost neat circle of color against the darkness, he reached out to find the handle of his cane, and hauled himself to his feet. Then, one limping step after another, made his way down to where the Cadillac was parked.

At that moment he was simply concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other to make it to the car. Then, in the car focused on the steps necessary to safely drive a vehicle such as this, the juxtaposition of his former and his current personae warring inside of him, the familiar and the unfamiliar.

One thing remained true in both worlds - Rumplestiltskin - Gold was a man of power.

By the time he pulled up onto the driveway of the pink Victorian, the maelstrom inside of him was so great that he was all but ready to take up his cane and smash anything breakable within reach. The imagined gratification of bringing the handle of his cane down on the mailbox, the trunk of the car, the rear windshield, with its melodious sound of splintering glass, the tail lights, the windows at the side…

…the soft expression that was there, barely a heartbeat, but there in Belle’s eyes. A second chance…

The desire to break things melted like ice in the midsummer sun, and Gold sat, breathing hard from the exertion of mere thought. He had gripped the steering wheel as though it were his lifeline. Slowly, he forced himself to release his grasp, and then get out of the car. He walked, with seeming infinite care, up to the house, and in through the door as soon as he had it unlocked. Then, without even waiting to see if it closed behind him, he lowered himself into a chair just inside the lounge, and put his head in his hands.

He didn’t think he had any more tears inside of him than those he’d shed with Jefferson. Yet, as he thought on Belle, on all that he’d - that they’d - lost when he sent her away from the dark castle, and on the emptiness of his life until the moment he took Belle’s hand, he wept for it all.

It was long into the morning by the time he emerged, exhausted, from his despairing self recriminations. Although there were things he knew he needed to do - even on the day after the Miner’s Day Festival - he also knew that he would not be at his best without some rest. Even a little would help. So, he slowly climbed the stairs toward his bedroom, stripped off the gold brocade jacket, which was now in need of a good dry-cleaning, peeled himself out of the rest of his finery, and fell exhausted into bed, where he dreamed, strange and knotted dreams of past and present interlaced and with a warring warp and weft.

It was a late morning by the time Gold woke, and for all that he’d had so little sleep, he felt remarkably well rested and, more importantly, clear headed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and made himself a mental checklist. He had a reputation to uphold after all.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Gold got out of bed with a spark of hope in his heart, which he took with him to the shower, where he hummed softly to himself; a tune that his aunties used to sing when they were spinning, or better yet, baking the meat pies he loved so much. He stopped suddenly in the middle of soaping his chest and stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought, so happily and peacefully, of his aunties. It made him wonder how long it had been since he used the memory to draw back the power of his magic. He shook his head at himself, and smiled, feeling so full of love in that moment it was almost painful, but it was not love for his aunties, it was love for Belle, who had unlocked all of the kind wonders inside of him…

…a flicker of light in an ocean of darkness…

…and for the first time in longer than memory, that thought didn’t hurt him to the core.

The first order of business for the day was a short stop at Granny’s and then on to the hardware store. It would be remiss of him not to fix the lock on the door to the library apartment, especially since he noticed it hadn’t closed properly the day before. What kind of landlord would he be if he didn’t attend to the safety of his tenants? The hopeful spring in his step had nothing to do with the possibility of seeing Miss Marchland again. Not at all.

He smiled as he passed the library and saw the sign stuck on the door declaring the public building closed for the day. That meant that Belle would be home, and he would have the opportunity to… apologize for whatever it was that had caused her to run off at the Miner’s Day Festival - and a part of him, a small part hoped that it was not because she remembered their life together and had not forgiven him for sending her away. The larger part hoped that he, his intensity as he had remembered everything, had simply spooked her, and she didn’t yet remember. That way he would have the chance to court her properly - if she would give him the time of day.

His impulse pulled at him to climb the stairs, once he had the outer door unlocked, and knock on Belle’s door, but no. He could not force his company upon her, so instead, he set to work on the lock. He tried to make sure that the action of the catch was as smooth as silk and closed first time, every time. Hadn’t he promised Belle forever?

He knew the thought was a kind of loophole. She had promised him forever, but what he had denied in the Enchanted Forest he embraced as the truth. Forever was a flow of time that looped both ways, and surrounded them both. He smiled and leaned down one more time to finish reattaching the catch-plate to the door.

He was so focused - or perhaps so lost to his surroundings - that when the sharp cry came from behind him, followed by the discordant jangle of keys hitting the sidewalk, he almost echoed it with a cry of his own surprise. He covered the slip, however, by reaching for the keys, and straightened up before he turned and found himself face to face with Belle.

“Miss Marchland,” he greeted her, using all of his self control to appear calm and collected. He gestured behind him. “I was just working on the door. Seems a little attention was necessary to ensure it closes properly.”

“Well,” he watched as she punctuated her own greeting with a deep breath, he guessed, to compose herself in kind. “Thank you, Mister Gold. I appreciate it.”

The slight pink already creeping into her cheek was delightful, alluring, and he couldn’t help but tease gently as he said, “Well, we can’t have just anyone walking up to the apartment without invitation, now, can we?” He raised an eyebrow and was more delighted than he had been in many a long year when she returned the gesture. In another life, he might have thought she was flirting with him, but there, he dare not hope for it.

“No indeed. There’s no telling in what state they might discover me,” she said, and the pink in her cheek deepened to flush of red. It warmed him deep within.

Ever the gentleman, however, he did not want to cause her discomfort or embarrassment. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll be out of your hair before too long.”

He was about to turn back to be sure he had indeed finished when she completely derailed his attention by snapping, “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening with Paige?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Paige,” she began, then added, “Grace,” and his heart lurched with an almost painful hope. Did she remember, then? “The girl that helps me in the library.”

“Yes,” he said, his heart sinking when he realized that she was simply using the girl’s cursed surname. “I know the girl to whom you refer. However, I fail to see what I should have told yo—”

“Oh, drop it, Gold! You knew, and you said nothing!” The fire in her eyes brought back the painful memories of the last time he had seen it, and he almost stepped towards her; almost moved to protest his innocence, and tell her how wrong she was. Her next words snapped him from the memory of it, and he closed his mouth on the words that were about to reach out to her. “That poor girl has been… maid and… nurse, and… who knows what else besides. I could have done something, could have helped. Instead you pretended there was nothing wrong, and let it all continue. And for what!”

“Be… very careful, Miss Marchland,” he rumbled, part in annoyance at her challenge, but the greater part in warning for fear of what she might stir up, should Regina decide to oppose her right-hearted desire to help poor Grace. “You know very little of which you speak, and none of the harm your interference could—”

“Interference?” He winced at the incredulity he heard in the tone and pitch of her voice. “Only you could think of offering help as interference. You are unbelievable, you know that?”

“No, Miss Marchland,” he said, trying, by his words, to convey the meaning of his warning, without openly making accusations in the street. “I am a man that simply knows how, and when to best take sides.”

“Take sides?” He frowned as she threw up her hands, and the pitch of her voice grew higher yet. “This is a child’s life we’re talking about, not some meaningless argument about… parking restrictions on Main Street.”

“Indeed,” he said and nodded his agreement. “Which is exactly why I have acted as I have.”

“Done nothing, you mean,” she spat. “At least you didn’t try to deny you knew what’s going on. At least I’ll give you that.”

He said nothing to counter that accusation either, and she made a sound of derision, before she stepped forward, obviously meaning to push past him as she finished curtly, “Excuse me, I have cleaning to do.”

He caught her elbow as she did, and stepped in closer to her as he held her against the open door. For just a moment at least, his eyes met and held hers in an uncompromising stare as he repeated a warning, his mouth almost against her ear.

“Everything comes with a price, Miss Marchland, so you need to be very sure how much you’re willing to pay.”

She held his gaze still longer, as if searching for something within his eyes, and he held his breath, willing her to find what she sought. After only a moment though, her face clouded with anger and she snatched her arm out of his grasp, pushed past him and left him watching after her as she mounted the stairs toward the apartment.

With a sigh, and no further excuse to loiter at the door, he closed it softly, and hanging his head, began to walk away. She was right, of course. Even before he awakened, he knew what was happening to Paige - to Grace - and who was behind it, of course. As much as he opposed Regina and her hold on the town of Storybrooke, as much as he had always stood in opposition to her, he never did anything to help that child, who now turned out to be the daughter of his oldest, dearest friend. He felt ashamed, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. He should have acted.

He continued walking toward the pawn shop, and pulled out his cell phone as he went, dialing the number that he knew by heart, but only now knew that the man he’d known as a friend for all this time, had been in his heart for so much longer.

“Rumplestiltskin…?”

The sound of his name, his true name on Jefferson’s lips, even through the artificial sound of the phone, brought a smile to his face, though it was a sorrowful one as he thought about all that he and Jefferson had shared.

“Can…” he cleared throat as his voice cracked a little, “Can you meet me at the shop? There’s something I’d like to discuss.”

He could almost hear the hesitant frown on the other man’s face as he answered, “All right, I’ll… head that way.”

“Thank you,” Gold said quietly, “And Jefferson—”

“I’ll see you in a little while,” Jefferson cut him off, and disconnected the call before he could say any more.

He spent the intervening time between then, and when the bell above the door sounded to announce his friend’s arrival, cleaning and polishing every item in one of the glass display-cases. He was agitated, and even that mundane task did little to quell his nervous energy.

“I think you missed a spot,” Jefferson raised a cheeky eyebrow, and made a pantomime of polishing the top of the case with the sleeve of his coat.

“Funny,” Gold answered dryly, making Jefferson chuckle.

“What’s so important,” he asked as the chuckled failed, “that you had to drag me all the way into town.”

“An… apology,” Gold answered, hesitation drawing out the words, and making Jefferson frown.

“There’s nothing—” Jefferson began, but Gold interrupted.

“Grace,” he said. “I should have—”

Jefferson shook his head, and craved softly, “Don’t. There was nothing you could have done. Regina—”

“I should have done something.”

“And what!” Jefferson asked, beginning to pace in agitation of his own. “She would never have let you interfere with whatever reason she has to punish me.” Gold’s heart broke as Jefferson swung round to face him, stopping dead as if he hadn’t been pacing at all, and ran his hand through his hair, leaving the front even more mussed than usual. He let out a huff then. “She has no reason to punish me… save perhaps spite. She had already separated me from my daughter. Trapped me in Wonderland, where—”

He stopped suddenly, as if whatever he had to say was some great shame, and Gold stepped toward him, took a tentative hold on his arms.

“Where?” he prompted, his tone tender, full of the worry he had for the man, but Jefferson shook his head.

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

“No one blames you, Jefferson,” Gold told him, his voice low, soft, compassionate.

“They should!” The Hatter suddenly cried, throwing up his arms and breaking Gold’s hold on them. He paced away again, then swung an accusatory glare his way. “She begged me - pleaded with me - not to go, but no… my arrogance, my certainty that one. Last. Job…” a sob that became a shiver, then a tremor that shook his body. “If I had listened. If I had stayed,” he continued in a whisper, “Grace would still have a mother. We’d still be a family. She wouldn’t be trapped, living a hell, with a withered hag as a jailer.”

Gold knew Jefferson was referring, not to Cloe Grace, but to Mother Trude, the ‘neighbor’ supposedly looking out for Grace, where the woman the curse had cast as her mother could not.

“I can fix this,” he whispered.

“No!” Jefferson cried, snatching at him and hauling him close as if to shake him like a rag doll. “Rumplestiltskin, No!”

“You can have her back. Your Grace.”

“She doesn’t know me!” Jefferson released Gold, and unbalanced he teetered back until Jefferson steadied him, but then The Hatter threw up his arms again. “Not as her father. As far as she knows, her papa was taken away when she was small. Ripped away from her by the authorities for gods know what!”

“Jefferson…” he tried to interrupt the man’s agonized tirade.

“That’s her reality. All she’s ever known in this world.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Gold said softly, when Jefferson’s anguish burned itself out. “Nor in the way she has to live now.”

“You think Regina wouldn’t find some way to torment her to punish me if anything about the life she inflicted on Grace changed? Especially if she knew you were involved… even if she doesn’t know you’re awake?”

Gold shook his head, but couldn’t find the words to disarm Jefferson’s justifiable fears.

“And if she finds out!?” Jefferson’s agitation rose again, and he filled the space around him with desperate gestures. “No… Rumplestiltskin, no. I… I can’t… I…”

Through Jefferson’s flailing, and over his shoulder, Gold saw the shadow of a figure moving past the front of the shop, pausing for a moment by the door as if the person would come inside. No one did, but Gold had recognized the figure none-the-less. He would know her anywhere.

“It may now be out of either of our hands,” he said, and watched as Jefferson turned in time to see the shadow move away from the door.

#rumbelle #cursed storybrooke au #angst #romance #eventual smut

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patriotsnet · 3 years

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Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/did-republicans-riot-after-obama-was-elected/

Did Republicans Riot After Obama Was Elected

Undocumented Kids Are Saved By Obamas Executive Order Daca Which Would Put A Halt To Deportation For Those Whod Entered The Country Before Age 16 And Yet In A Bid To Get The Gop To Come Over To His Side On Immigration Reform The President Has Also Deported A Record 15 Million People In His First Term

A Family Caught in Immigration Limbo

When Belsy Garcia saw her mother’s number appear on her iPhone on the afternoon of June 15, she felt what she calls the “uncomfortable fluttering” sensation in her chest. She knew that daytime calls signaled an emergency. The worst one had come the previous year, when her sister told her ICE agents had placed their father in federal custody.

Garcia was attending Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, when her father was marched out of her childhood home. As an undocumented immigrant — like both of her parents, who are from Guatemala — she couldn’t qualify for loans. She financed her education through scholarships and a stipend she earned as a residential assistant. Now she wondered if her mother was calling to say her father had been deported, which might force her to leave school to become the family’s breadwinner.

But this call was different. “Go turn on the television,” Garcia’s mother said. “You’re going to be able to work, get a driver’s license.”

Onscreen, President Obama was announcing the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Undocumented immigrants who had arrived in the United States as children could apply for Social Security numbers and work permits. Garcia qualified: Her parents had brought her to this country when she was 7 years old. DACA transformed her into a premed student who could actually become a doctor. “It was like this weight was lifted,” she says. “All of that hard work was going to pay off.”

In The Next Hundred Days Our Bipartisan Outreach Will Be So Successful That Even John Boehner Will Consider Becoming A Democrat After All We Have A Lot In Common He Is A Person Of Color Although Not A Color That Appears In The Natural World Whats Up John Barack Obama White House Correspondents Dinner

And Then There Were Three

The first woman to argue a case before the Supreme Court did so in 1880. It would take another 101 years for a woman to sit on that bench rather than stand before it. Even then, progress was fitful. Over the 12 years that Sandra Day O’Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg served together, their identities evidently merged; lawyers regularly addressed Ginsburg as “Justice O’Connor.” When O’Connor retired in 2006, she left the faux Justice O’Connor feeling lonely. Ruth Bader Ginsburg warned of something far more alarming: What the public saw on entering the court were “eight men of a certain size, and then this little woman sitting to the side.” They might well represent the most eminent legal minds in America. But there was something antiquated, practically mutton-choppy, about that portrait.

How many female justices would be sufficient? Nine, says Justice Ginsburg, noting that no one ever raised an eyebrow at the idea of nine men.

Seal Team Six Kills Osama Bin Ladenraiding His Secret Compound In Abbottabad Pakistan While Obama And His Top Advisers Watch A Live Feed Of The Mission From The White House Situation Room The Picture Of The Assembled Becomes The Last Supper Of The Obama Era

Poop Feminism

For me, it’s one moment. All the bridesmaids have come to the fancy bridal shop to see Maya Rudolph try on wedding dresses. This should be a familiar scene: The bride emerges from the changing room and … This is the dress! The friends clap. The mother cries. Everyone is a princess. Go ahead and twirl!

But when the bride emerges in Bridesmaids, almost all of her friends have started to feel sick. Sweat coats their skin. Red splotches creep over their faces. They try to “ooh” and “aah,” but it’s already too late. It starts with a gag from Melissa McCarthy, followed by another gag. Then a gag that comes simultaneously with a tiny wet fart. It’s the smallness of the fart that’s important here. It’s the kind of fart that slips out — a fart that could be excused away, a brief, incongruous accident. Women don’t fart in wedding movies, and women certainly don’t fart at the exact moment that the bride comes out in her dress. This can’t be happening. Melissa McCarthy blames the fart on the tightness of her dress. We breathe a sigh of relief.

Then sweet Ellie Kemper gags, and the sound effect is surprisingly nasty. Ellie’s face is gray. Melissa’s face is red. They look bad. They are embarrassed. How far is this going to go?

The camera cuts. We are above now. We look down from a safe perch as the release we have been anticipating and dreading begins. It is horribly, earth-shatteringly gross. A woman has just pooped in a sink. The revolution has begun.

The Government Acquires A 61 Percent Stake In Gm And Loans The Company $50 Billion The Auto Bailout Will Eventually Be Heralded As A Great Success Adding More Than 250000 Manufacturing Jobs To The Economy

The Auto Industry Gets Rerouted

“The president was very clear with us that he only wanted to do stuff that would fundamentally change the way they did business. And that’s what we did. There were enormous changes. For example, General Motors had something like 300 different job classifications that the union had. If you were assigned to put the windshield wipers on, you couldn’t put tires on. And we wiped all that stuff out. We basically gave back management the freedom to manage, to hire, to fire. People stopped getting paid even when they were on layoff. We reduced the number of car plants so that there wasn’t so much overcapacity. So now, when you have 16 million cars sold , they’re making a fortune.”

Black Lives Matter Activists Are Arrested In Baton Rouge Louisianaprotesting The Murder Of Alton Sterling; More Than 100 People Are Detained In St Paul Minnesota Protesting The Murder Of Philando Castile

What Is the Point of a Quantified Self?

Melissa Dahl: The Fitbit was introduced at a tech conference eight years ago. It’s kind of incredible to realize that, before then, this idea of the “quantified self” didn’t really exist in the mainstream.

Jesse Singal: I feel like it’s the intersection of all these different trends: Everyone plays video games these days. You got smartphones everywhere. And people are realizing that solutions to the big problems that lead to sleeplessness and anxiety and bad eating — unemployment and income inequality and yada yada yada — aren’t gonna get solved anytime soon.

MD: That’s interesting, because all of this self-tracking is also, according to some physicians, giving people more anxiety! A Fitbit-induced stress vortex.

Cari Romm: It feels like productive stress, though. I’m talking as a recovered Fitbit obsessive, but it does make you look at Fitbit-less people like, “You mean you don’t care how many steps you took today?”

MD: Oh, God. I don’t care. Should I care? Sleep is the one thing I obsessed over for a while. Which does not really help one get to sleep.

JS: Do you think an actually good and not obsession-inducing sleep app could help, though?

MD: There’s some aspect to the tracking idea that really does work. I mean, it’s just a higher-tech version of a food journal or sleep journal, right? Ben Franklin 300 years ago was tracking his 13 “personal virtues” in his diary.

JS: Would Ben Franklin have been an insufferable tech-bro?

Officer Darren Wilson Fatally Shoots Michael Brownin The St Louis Suburb Of Ferguson Sparking A National Protest Movement And Setting Off Unrest That Will Remain Unresolved Two Years Later

On the Triumph of Black Culture in the Age of Police Shootings

In the two years since Mike Brown was fatally shot by the police in Ferguson, and the video footage of his dead body in the street went viral, we have seen the emergence of a perverse dichotomy on our screens and in our public discourse: irrefutable evidence of grotesquely persistent racism, and irrefutable evidence of increasing black cultural and political power. This paradox is not entirely new, of course — America was built on a narrative of white supremacy, and black Americans have simultaneously continued to make vast and essential contributions to the country’s prominence—but it has become especially pronounced. And it’s not just because of the internet and social media, or the leftward shift of the culture, or black America’s being sick and tired of being sick and tired. In fact, it is all of these things, not least two terms with a black president. In the same way that black skin signals danger to the police , his black skin, to black people, signaled black cultural preservation. African-Americans didn’t see a black man as the most powerful leader in the free world; we saw the most powerful leader in the free world as black. This is what comedian Larry Wilmore was expressing at the 2016 White House Correspondents’ Dinner when he said, “Yo, Barry, you did it, my nigga.” It was a moment of unadulterated black pride.

Militants Attack American Compounds In Benghazi Libya Killing Us Ambassador Chris Stevens And Three Other Americans There Will Eventually Be Eight Congressional Probes Into The Incident

“I Know I Let Everybody Down”

“Before the debate, David Plouffe and I went in to talk to him and give him a pep talk and he said, ‘Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,’ which is not what you want to hear from your candidate right before the debate. We knew within ten minutes that it was going to be a debacle. We had armed him with a joke — it was his 20th anniversary, and he addressed Michelle — and it turns out Romney was expecting just such a line and had a really great comeback. And Romney was excellent — just free and easy and clearly well prepared and showed personality that people hadn’t seen before. Obama looked like he was at a press conference.

We had a meeting at the White House and he said, ‘I know I let everybody down and that’s on me, and I’m not going to let that happen again,’ and that was his attitude. We always had debate camps before, where we’d re-create in hotel ballrooms what the set would look like, and all of the conditions of the real debate. When we went down to Williamsburg, Virginia, for the next debate camp, he seemed really eager to engage in the prep. We had a decent first night. That was on Saturday. On Sunday night, Kerry, playing Romney, got a little more aggressive and Obama a little less so; it looked very much like what we had seen in Denver. It was like he’d taken a step back.

Scott Brown Is Elected Massachusetts Senatorturning Ted Kennedys Seat Republican For The First Time Since 1952 And Suddenly Throwing The Prospect Of Passing Obamacare Into Jeopardy

Plan B

“I’m talking to Rahm and Jim Messina and saying, ‘Okay, explain to me how this happened.’ It was at that point that I learned that our candidate, Martha Coakley, had asked rhetorically, ‘What should I do, stand in front of Fenway and shake hands with voters?’ And we figured that wasn’t a good bellwether of how things might go.

This might have been a day or two before the election, but the point is: There is no doubt that we did not stay on top of that the way we needed to. This underscored a failing in my first year, which was the sort of perverse faith in good policy leading to good politics. I’ll cut myself some slack — we had a lot to do, and every day we were thinking, Are the banks going to collapse? Is the auto industry going to collapse? Will layoffs accelerate? We just didn’t pay a lot of attention to politics that first year, and the loss in Massachusetts reminded me of what any good president or elected official needs to understand: You’ve got to pay attention to public opinion, and you have to be able to communicate your ideas. But it happened, and the question then was, ‘What’s next?’

Sheryl Sandbergs Lean In Hits Bookstores Making The Feminist Case That Women Should Be More Aggressive And Ambitious In Their Careers And Making Feminists Themselves Very Angry

The “Mommy Wars” Finally Flame Out

After decades of chilly backlash, we find ourselves, these past eight years, in an age of feminist resurgence, with feminist websites and publications and filmmakers and T-shirts and pop singers and male celebrities and best-selling authors and women’s soccer teams. Of course, as in every feminist golden age, there has also been dissent: furious clashes over the direction and quality of the discourse, especially as the movement has become increasingly trendy, shiny, and celebrity-backed.

Perhaps the most public feminist conflagration of the Obama years came at the nexus of policy and celebrity, of politics and pop power. It was the furor over Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, who gave a viral 2010 TED Talk about women in the workplace who “leave before they leave” — who alter their professional strategy to accommodate a future they assume will be compromised by parenthood — which led to the publication of her 2013 feminist business manifesto, Lean In.

It’s a lesson of the Obama era: One approach to redressing inequality does not have to blot out the others. Sometimes, attacking from all angles is the most effective strategy.

Texas State Senator Wendy Davis Laces Up Her Pink Running Shoes And Spends Ten Long Hours Attempting To Filibuster A Billthat Wouldve Imposed Statewide Abortion Restrictions

“The Concept of Dignity Really Matters”

“I was given an enormous degree of latitude. I did communicate with the White House counsel on occasion about high-profile cases, but it was much more in the nature of just giving them a heads-up, to calm any nervous feelings they might have. There’s only one exception to that, and it was on marriage equality, in the Hollingsworth v. Perry case in 2013. We were contemplating coming in and arguing that it was unconstitutional for California to refuse to recognize the legal validity of same-sex marriages. But we didn’t have to do it . And because it was a discretionary judgment, and it was such a consequential step, that was the one matter where I really sought out the president’s personal guidance. I wanted to make sure the president had a chance to thoroughly consider what we should do before we did it. It was really one of the high points of my tenure. It was a wide-ranging conversation about doctrinal analysis, about where society was now, about social change and whether it should go through the courts or through the majoritarian process, about the pace of social change, about the significance of the right at stake. He was incredibly impressive.

A Golf Summit Between John Boehner And Barack Obama Stirs Hopethat Perhaps The Two Parties Will Come To A Budget Agreement And Forestall A True Crisis Secret And Semi

A Grand Bargain That Wasn’t, Remembered Three Ways

“The president of the United States and the Speaker of the House, the two most powerful elected officials in Washington, decided in a conversation that they both had to try to make something happen. Maybe it would be the way it worked in a West Wing episode in a world that doesn’t work like a West Wing episode. That’s how it started — two individuals saying we’re going to try. I think they both shared a belief in the art of the possible, and they both did not think compromise was a dirty word.

When our cover was blown — a Wall Street Journal editorial came out saying that Boehner and Obama were working on this and attacking the whole premise — that was devastating. It resulted in Cantor being a part of the talks. Cantor and Boehner came in, and I think it was a weekend private session with the president in the Oval Office, and they were talking about the numbers. At one point Cantor said, ‘Listen, it’s not just the numbers. There’s concern that this will help you politically. Paul Ryan said if we do this deal, it will guarantee your reelection. If we agree with Barack Obama on spending and taxes, that takes away one of our big weapons.’ There were so many obstacles, some of them substantive — how much revenue, and what about the entitlements? — but there was also this overlay of ‘This is going to help Obama.’

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki

The Obama Administration Unveils Its Plan For Regulating Wall Streetwhich Is Then Introduced In Congress By Senator Chris Dodd And Representative Barney Frank

MJ=JC?

Lane Brown: Michael Jackson’s death was a big deal for lots of obvious reasons, including the surprising way it happened and the fact that he was arguably the most famous person on the planet.

Nate Jones: He was an A-lister with an indisputable body of work; he was 50 years old, his hits were the right age — old enough that every generation knew them, but not too old that they weren’t relevant anymore.

LB: But it was also the first huge celebrity death to happen in the age of social media, or at least the age of Twitter.

NJ: MJ’s death came alongside the protests in Iran, which was when Twitter went mainstream.

LB: It also meant that so much of the instant reaction was to make it all about us.

Frank Guan: In a lot of ways, the culture prefers the death of artists to their continuing to live. Once an artist gets launched into the stratosphere, there’s no way to come down, and that permanence becomes monotonous. They run out of timely or groundbreaking material and the audience starts tuning out. At some point, their fame eclipses their art, and then the only way to get the general audience to appreciate them anew is for them to die.

LB: People seem to like the grieving process so much that even lesser celebrities get the same treatment.

Congresswoman Gabby Giffords Returns To The House Floor For The First Time Since Being Shot In A Massacre In January Casting A Vote In Favor Of The Debt

A Rare Moment of Unity

“I was doing intensive rehabilitation in Houston at the time but was following the debate closely, and I was pretty disappointed at what was happening in Washington. I’d seen the debate grow so bitter and divisive and so full of partisan rancor. And I was worried our country was hurtling toward a disastrous, self-inflicted economic crisis. That morning, when it became clear the vote was going to be close, my husband, Mark, and I knew we needed to get to Washington quickly. I went straight from my rehabilitation appointment to the airport, and Mark was at our house in Houston packing our bags so he could meet us at the plane.

That night, I remember seeing the Capitol for the first time since I was injured and feeling so grateful to be at work. I will never forget the reception I received on the floor of the House from my colleagues, both Republicans and Democrats. And then, like I had so many times before, I voted.

I worked so hard to get my speech back, and honestly, talking to people who share my determination helped me find my words again. I’ve been to Alaska, Maine, and everywhere in between. Best of all, I got back on my bike. Riding my bike once seemed like such a huge challenge. It seemed impossible.”

Miley Cyrus Twerks At The Mtv Vmassetting Off A Controversy About Cultural Appropriation That Soon Ensnares Seemingly Every White Pop Star On The Planet

• Karlie Kloss wears a Native American headdress and fringed bra at the Victoria’s Secret fashion show.

• Justin Timberlake is accused of appropriating black music when he tells a black critic “We are the same” after praising Jesse Williams’s BET Humanitarian Award speech about race and police brutality.

• DJ Khaled gets lost on Jet Ski, snaps the whole time.

• Two UW-Madison students snap their meet-cute as the entire student body cheers them on.

• Playboy Playmate Dani Mathers films and mocks an anonymous woman in the gym shower.

• A Massachusetts teen records the sexual assault of a 16-year-old girl. The video is later seen by a friend of the victim.

Prior To Going To War In Iraq Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld Optimistically Predicted The Iraq War Might Last Six Days Six Weeks I Doubt Six Months

What’s more, Vice-President Dick Cheney said we would be greeted as liberators by the Iraqi people after we overthrow Saddam.

They were both horribly wrong. Instead of six weeks or six months, the Iraq war lasted eight long and bloody years costing thousands of American lives. It led to an Iraqi civil war between the Sunnis and the Shiites that took hundreds of thousands of Iraqi lives. Many Iraqi militia groups were formed to fight against the U.S. forces that occupied Iraq. What’s more, Al Qaeda, which did not exist in Iraq before the war, used the turmoil in Iraq to establish a new foothold in that country.

The Iraq war was arguably the most tragic foreign policy blunder in US history.

In 2012 Republicans Predicted That Failure To Approve The Keystone Pipeline Would Send The Price Of Gasoline Sky High And Kill Large Numbers Of Jobs

Despite the fact that the Keystone Pipeline was not approved, the price of gasoline continued to drop below $1.80 per gallon, millions of new jobs were created and unemployment dropped from 8% to 4.9% by early 2016. The most optimistic predictions say that the Keystone Pipeline would only create a few dozen long-term jobs and would do nothing to lower the price of gasoline.

Eric Cantors Stunning Primary Loss Suggests No Politician Is Safe From The Rage Of The Tea Party Not Even The Tea Partys Canniest Political Leader

From Party’s Future to Also-Ran in a Single Day

On the day his political career died, Eric Cantor was busy tending to what he still believed was its bright future. While his GOP-primary opponent, David Brat, visited polling places in and around Richmond, Virginia, Cantor spent his morning 90 miles away at a Capitol Hill Starbucks. He was there to host a fund-raiser for three of his congressional colleagues — something he did every month, just another part of the long game he was playing, which, he believed, would eventually culminate in his becoming Speaker of the House.

The preceding five years had brought Cantor tantalizingly closer to that goal. In the immediate aftermath of Obama’s election, he’d rallied waffling House Republicans to stand in lockstep opposition to the new president’s agenda. In 2010, he’d helped elect 87 new Republican members, giving the GOP a House majority and making Cantor the House majority leader. He became the champion of these freshmen members, stoking their radicalism during the debt-ceiling fight and working to undermine Obama and John Boehner’s attempt to strike a “grand bargain.” His alliance with the ascendant tea party was strategic — it gave him leverage not only over Obama but over other Republicans who might also have had aspirations of becoming Speaker. It never occurred to him that the wave he was trying to ride might crash on him instead.

In 1993 When Bill Clinton Raised Taxes On The Wealthiest 15% Republicans Predicted A Recession Increased Unemployment And A Growing Budget Deficit

They weren’t just wrong: The exact opposite of everything they predicted happened. The country experienced the seven best years of economic growth in history.

Twenty-two million new jobs were added.

Unemployment dropped below 4%.

The poverty rate dropped for seven straight years.

The budget deficit was eliminated.

There was a growing budget surplus that economists projected could pay off our national debt in 20 years.

Republicans Predicted That We Would Find Iraqs Weapons Of Mass Destruction Even Though Un Weapons Inspectors Said That Those Weapons Didn’t Exist

The Bush administration continued to insist that WMDs would be found, even when the CIA said some of the evidence was questionable. As we all know, the WMDs predicted by the Bush administration did not exist, and Saddam Hussein had not resumed his nuclear weapons program as they claimed. Ultimately, both President Bush and Vice President Cheney had to admit that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq.

Republicans Predicted That President Obamas Tax Increase For The Top 1% In 2013 Would Kill Jobs Increase The Deficit And Cause Another Recession

You guessed it; just the opposite happened. In the four years following January 1, 2013, when that tax increase went into effect, through January 2017, unemployment dropped from 7.9% to 4.8%, an average of more than 200,000 new jobs were created per month, Wall Street set new record highs, and the budget deficit was cut in half.

Over 5.7 million new jobs were created in the first two years after that tax increase. That’s more jobs created in two years than were created during the combined 12 years of both Bush presidencies.

In 2001 When George W Bush Cut Taxes For The Wealthy Republicans Predicted Record Job Growth Increased Budget Surplus And Nationwide Prosperity

Once again, the exact opposite occurred. After the Bush tax cuts were enacted:

The budget surplus immediately disappeared.

The budget deficit eventually grew to $1.4 trillion by the time Bush left office.

Less than 3 million net jobs were added during Bush’s eight years.

The poverty rate began climbing again.

We experienced two recessions along with the greatest collapse of our financial system since the Great Depression.

In 1993, President Clinton signed the Brady Law mandating nationwide background checks and a waiting period to buy a gun.

Apple Announces That It Has Sold 100 Million Iphoneswithin A Few Months It Will Overtake Exxonmobil As The Most Valuable Company In The World

Earthlings Gain a New Appendage

What if we had the singularity and nobody noticed? In 2007, Barack Obama had been on the trail for weeks, using a BlackBerry like all the cool campaigners, when the new thing went on sale and throngs lined up for it. The new thing had a silly name: iPhone. The iPhone was a phone the way the Trojan horse was a horse.

Now it’s the gizmo without which a person feels incomplete. It’s a light in the darkness, a camera, geolocator, hidden mic, complete Shakespeare, stopwatch, sleep aid, heart monitor, podcaster, aircraft spotter, traffic tracker, all-around reality augmenter, and increasingly a pal. At the Rio Olympics you could see people, having flown thousands of miles to be in the arena with the athletes, watching the action through their smartphones. As though they needed the mediating lens to make it real.

This device, this gadget — a billion have been made and we scarcely know what to call it. For his 2010 novel of the near future, , Gary Shteyngart made up a word, “äppärät.” “My äppärät buzzing with contacts, data, pictures, projections, maps, incomes, sound, fury.” Future then, present now. His äppäräti were worn around the neck on pendants. Ours are in our pockets when they aren’t in our hands, but they also sprout earbuds, morph into wristwatches and eyeglasses. Contact lenses have been rumored; implants are only a matter of time.

Let’s face it, we’ve grown a new organ.

Republicans Said Waterboarding And Other Forms Of Enhanced Interrogation Are Not Torture And Are Necessary In Fighting Islamic Extremism

In reality, waterboarding and other forms of enhanced interrogation that inflict pain, suffering, or fear of death are outlawed by US law, the US Constitution, and international treaties. Japanese soldiers after World War II were prosecuted by the United States for war crimes because of their use of waterboarding on American POWs.

Professional interrogators have known for decades that torture is the most ineffective and unreliable method of getting accurate information. People being tortured say anything to get the torture to end but will not likely tell the truth.

An FBI interrogator named Ali Soufan was able to get al Qaeda terrorist Abu Zubaydah to reveal crucial information without the use of torture. When CIA interrogators started using waterboarding and other enhanced interrogation methods, Zubaydah stopped cooperating and gave his interrogators false information.

Far from being necessary in the fight against terrorism, torture is completely unreliable and counter-productive in obtaining useful information.

In 2008 Republicans Said That If We Elect A Democratic President We Would Be Hit By Al Qaeda Again Perhaps Worse Than The Attack On 9/11

Former Vice-President Dick Cheney stated that electing a Democrat as president would all but guarantee that there would be another major attack on America by Al Qaeda. Cheney and other Republicans were, thankfully, completely wrong. During Obama’s presidency, we had zero deaths on U.S. soil from Al Qaeda attacks and we succeeded in killing Bin Laden along with dozens of other high ranking Al Qaeda leaders.

Game Of Thrones Arrives On Televisionwith An Assemblage Of Dragons Torture Nudity Incest And Despair A Show The Whole Family Can Enjoy

Explaining Kale

ADAM PLATT: Many things in Foodlandia, these days, have a political element to them, and if you want to emblazon a flag to be carried into battle, you could do worse than a bristly, semi-digestible bunch of locally grown kale.

ALAN SYTSMA: To eat kale is to announce you’re a person who cares about the matters of the day.

AP: The idea of kale is much more powerful than kale itself. In short order it went from being discovered, to appreciated, to being something that was parodied. Frankly, I’m all for the parody.

AS: The same thing happened to pork. Remember bacon peanut brittle? Bacon-fat cocktails? There’s bacon dental floss.

AP: Ahhh, bacon versus kale. The two great, competing forces of our time.

AS: Do you think one gave way to the other?

AP: What we’re really talking about is artisanal bacon, and the more sophisticated-sounding pork belly, made from pigs that were lovingly reared at upstate farms and fed diets of pristine little acorns. Bacon is the great symbol in the comfort-food, farm-fresh-dining movement, a kind of merry, unbridled pulchritude. Kale is the righteous yin to pork’s fatty, non-vegan yang.

AS: But pork has an advantage: People like the way it tastes.

AP: That’s a huge advantage, one that will hopefully see it through to victory.

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alwayscryingoverdannyb · 3 years

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the "mind yo' business, david!" and "yes, my hair may look like burned curly fries but does it change your life in any way, shape or form" vines? same energy.

#vines #2am thoughts #there's wisdom in vines #so jot that down

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treatian · 3 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Breaking the Curse

Chapter 21: Business As Usual

Helping Emma with the children wasn't the breakthrough he'd hoped for. On the one hand, considering the potential that breakthrough had at being a wish made on a genie lamp, he felt rather fortunate to have dodged that bullet. On the other hand, as someone who wanted the Curse broken more than anything in the world, he almost wanted to try wishing again. Almost…but not entirely.

Because while the children being reunited with their father wasn't much, it had at least been something. It may not have been exactly what he'd expected or hoped for, but it was something. It seemed to have set off a series of events in Storybrooke; things that had never happened before were happening, and while he didn't know what to think of the events themselves, he knew that any kind of change in Storybrooke was a step in the right direction, whether it be a good change, or just downright mysterious.

The good change? David and Mary Margaret were…well…dating legitimized it in a rather unsavory way, but when he considered that they were already married…the best way he could put it was that they were "finding each other" again. That annoying little habit they'd started in the Enchanted Forest seemed to have struck again, and he couldn't have been more pleased by it.

He knew what was happening between them because he'd seen this coming for weeks, hoped for it even! After David had woken and Graham had died, he'd hired one of Dove's cousins to watch David because while he'd heard that David was back with his wife, he'd still had his doubts. He hadn't put anyone on Mary Margaret. He hadn't seen a point in that. Mary Margaret was a far cry from her counterpart Snow White. Here, she was shy and quiet. Half the time Dove reported Emma was with her, and the other half, well…if she wasn't with David, he didn't care what she did. Marc, Dove's cousin, wasn't as good at the following and snooping as Dove was, but fortunately, he could read between the lines of Marc's updates. Mary Margaret and David were seeing each other. It had started last week, just before Christmas, when they'd had some terrible storms come through the area. For whatever reason, Mary Margaret had driven into the woods, and Marc reported that David had gone after her. Because of the storm and the intimacy of the situation, it had been impossible for Marc to really see what had happened, but he reported that they'd both gone into the forest and both come out…together. Better yet, the next morning, Marc had seen the pair kissing in the alley by Granny's. It was wonderful, just wonderful! But the best part of it was that it didn't end there.

After that confrontation, Marc reported they saw each other discreetly whenever they could, not that they were any good at that. Marc had said that when he saw them kiss at Granny's, it was in full view of none other than Regina, the worst person who could observe the pair. He'd held his breath all week for her wrath and revenge to rain down on the couple. But so far…nothing. The Evil Queen had done nothing about it. In fact, far as he could tell, she was going about her day as if there was nothing out of place. Denial? Confusion? Shock? Or was it simply that she didn't have a plan yet? Or worse, that she had a plan, and he couldn't see it. He just had to wait and see. But in the meantime, David and Mary Margaret continued to see each other, continued to grow their bond in this new world, and he couldn't see the downside to that. Even according to his newest spy, he could tell they weren't acting the same as they had been before. They were happier. They were having an affair. And he was just fine with that.

But that wasn't the only thing that was new to Storybrooke…there was a stranger in town. That news hadn't come from Dove or Marc, but rather the entire town was buzzing about it. A strange man on the motorcycle. He'd ridden in on the same night that the twins had reconnected with their father and hadn't left. He was curious. He thought very seriously about sending a spy out to investigate him, but after sending Dove to watch Emma and Marc to watch David, he had a feeling that sending someone else out to spy on the newcomer might raise too many questions. Neither Emma nor Regina trusted him at the moment, and he had no doubt they'd be looking for strange things like that to link to him. So he'd tried to solve the mystery on his own. He attempted to do it discreetly, thinking that it wouldn't be very difficult. After all, the man himself was hardly discreet. But he was quick. He didn't sit still for long. He was staying at Granny's, but he didn't have time to stake out the diner and bed and breakfast all the time. Not that his current plan of attack seemed to be working out any better. His current plan being to wait until he saw the motorcycle stop at Granny's and then walk down there himself to see. But by the time he limped down the street, the stranger would leave. The result was that at the moment, his own investigation had amounted to a single glimpse he'd caught of him, from a distance. Other than dark hair, he couldn't make a face out.

He'd also managed to get a name, August Booth. Usually, a name was all he needed, but in this case…it led nowhere. No background, no history, he couldn't even trace the damn motorcycle. It was as if August Booth had just appeared and started living one day. It was irritating. He wasn't ready to give up yet. But he couldn't spend all his time on this. Christmas was over. Dove reported that Emma spent the holiday with Mary Margaret. From the window, he'd watched as the former decorated the tree while the latter made cookies, and the pair of them had watched movies late into the night to celebrate. But while the holidays still were not truly over, the town was getting back into their usual routines, just as they always did before the New Year. And this year, with Emma here, there was other work to be done lest his secret be revealed too early.

He had a meeting to go to tonight, a meeting he'd really rather not attend, but it was the price of the façade he continued to uphold. Tonight was the night he had to collect the remaining half of his money from Regina for the property she was buying from him. Admittedly, the cost had been $50,000 for that spit of earth, at least twice what the land was worth, but it had all been worth it to piss off Regina. He'd taken half of it about two weeks ago after they'd made the deal, and tonight, she was bringing him the remaining half. But from the beginning, he knew there was something off about it.

He'd wanted to make the exchange and sign the paperwork in his shop, somewhere warm and with plenty of light. But earlier in the day, Regina had called and insisted on doing it on the actual property. He'd put up a fuss, of course, tried to get her to see reason, but she'd insisted it was this or no deal, and retrieving the $25,000 he'd already deposited into the bank would be a bigger hassle than just meeting her in the damn forest.

But, as it usually was with Regina, when he finally got to the place that he was supposed to meet her, he was suddenly glad he'd come and see it for himself. They weren't alone in the woods. Trucks were sitting idle and silent around the area, a couple of floodlights lit the place up brighter than noon, and Regina stood there with one hand on her hip and another clutching a briefcase. She didn't see him coming. She was too busy watching as the workers unloaded what was in the back of the truck; metal, chains, hand grips…and a plastic slide. Suddenly a piece of information that Dove had sent him earlier that day didn't seem as useless as he'd thought it was.

"I heard you destroyed the former playground this afternoon," he stated, sidling up next to her.

Regina smiled as she looked over her work. "That old thing has been in shambles for years; as mayor, it's my job to see that everyone in town is safe, including my son and all his friends. The storm destroying it last week was just icing on the cake. As you should know, I've been working on this for weeks."

"Indeed I do…" It wasn't exactly true. He'd known she wanted the property. He wasn't aware that she'd wanted it for a playground, but so long as she paid for it…what did he care? "I assume that's my money."

"I assume that's the final paperwork," Regina spat back, looking at the folder he carried with him.

"Must we hire someone to meet us halfway, or can we do this cordially?"

Regina snorted as she finally turned to look at him, then she smiled and handed him the case. "I included a little something extra to satisfy that curious mind of yours."

He glared at her as he handed her the folder he'd brought for her to sign, then with careful precision, he opened the case to find the trap that she'd laid for him. Plans for the new playground. But this new playground of hers wasn't just any playground. It was clearly modeled after her own castle, back in the Enchanted Forest. It was a trap, a test, to see if he showed any kind of inkling of recognition. But he was older than her, wiser and always at the ready for something like this. He had to be when he'd been tormenting her with subtle hints and words like "please."

"Interesting design," he commented, closing the case and watching as she signed the paperwork. "Bit gaudy for a child's playground, don't you think."

"I got the idea from one of Henry's fairytale books. I'm the mayor, Mr. Gold, not an engineer. It wasn't made for me."

"Yes, but it was made for you, made at your behest."

"Trust me; if it were my design, it would look much different."

"Still…it's as if the contractor didn't design it with you in mind at all, more like…his wife maybe…" he kept his gaze neutral as he delivered the blow. She'd been hoping that he'd reveal something, but he was hoping his words provided her with more suspicion. He wouldn't admit anything, but he did love to leave hints.

"Why would you say that?" she questioned.

"Just an observation. I assume if it's not what you want, it's what someone wants."

"Yes…children! So why would you say that, specifically?"

He smiled as he looked around at the equipment being unloaded. "As I said, Madam Mayor…observation…can we get back to the business at hand…please." Regina sneered but was quiet. "I see you didn't waste any time waiting for the permission to have the land before you got started. But, if you want to build a new playground, then build a new playground. Why do you need to do it out here in the middle of the woods? What's the reason for all the cloak and dagger?"

"I want this to be a surprise for Henry."

"Feeling a bit forgotten, are we, Regina?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means Henry has been spending a lot of time with his mother-"

"Biological mother," she snapped. "Sheriff or not, she is not Henry's mother. I raised him. He is my son."

"I've seen the adoption papers to prove it," he agreed, knowing that a signature didn't mean anything to a boy Henry's age. He needed love and attention, and Emma was where he got it. "So, it's meant to be a surprise for Henry, so…why not build it at the former site? Why not wait until you had the property to call in the dozers."

"Because I want it installed tomorrow, of course. Tomorrow during the council meeting, actually."

"Tomorrow…impressive…you don't waste time, it seems, Madam Mayor."

"I see no reason to waste time, Mr. Gold. Especially now that the storm has destroyed the former playground. The children need somewhere safe to play. And I'm going to give it to them."

"Well then…it all seems to be arranged. But tell me, Regina, do you really think $50,000 worth of land will buy the boy's love? Make him run into your arms and scorn the Sheriff who gave birth to him?"

She whipped her head around to him so fast he half expected her neck to crack. "That's not the reason I'm doing this," she sneered.

"No, of course not," he answered sarcastically. "But…one can always wish." She ignored that comment, just continued to glare at him. He felt a swell of happiness and pride burst inside of him. She'd thought she'd get the better of him, but he'd won this match and gotten the better of her. I loved to win. "If you don't mind, it's been a long day and an awfully long drive for…well…talk of plans for domination. I'll take my leave now."

"Have a nice night, Mr. Gold."

He smiled at the way she'd accented his name, as if hoping that it would be a last-ditch effort to get a hint out of him. But he wasn't that ignorant. "Same to you, Madam Mayor."

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Regina mills #Evil Queen #Emma Swan #Snow White #mary margaret blanchard #David Nolan #Prince Charming #Snowing #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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swanqueeneverafter · 4 years

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Sins of the Past Pt.2

The Fields of Dun Broch. (Merida stands in a field alongside David and Kristoff.) Merida: "Look at this. (Hands Kristoff a dead wheat stalk:) Every single ear has died. We’ve received reports that it’s the same throughout our lands. I rode through this valley only yesterday. The crop looked healthy enough then. Our farmers can't explain it." Kristoff: (Examining the stalk:) "No disease could have done this overnight." Merida: "What could kill all the plants other than a disease?" David: (Looks around:) "It is not killing all the plants. The trees and hedges around the crop fields are unharmed. Unfortunately, you can’t eat trees and hedges." Merida: "It’s only killing plants we can eat?" David: "It appears so." Merida: "So if it’s not a disease, it must be magic. It seems we truly are cursed." Storybrooke. Mayor's Office. (While Emma stands rocking Maria in her arms, Regina has called Will Scarlett into her office.) Will: "I already said I was sorry, it's not like I meant to do it." Emma: (Scoffs:) "Well first of all, you never apologised and second-" Regina: "Knocking my wife over in the street while running to win a bet is not something I'm prepared to take lying down." Emma: (Sensing Will is about to make a joke:) "Don't. Trust me, just don't." Regina: (As Will promptly closes his mouth:) "I swear, if my niece wasn't in love with your sister, you'd be nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor by now." Will: (Straightening his jacket, casually:) "But since that practically makes us family, you can't be doing that." Regina: "No. No I can't. But what I can do is have you make amends for your actions." Will: "Well hey, (Turns to Emma:) if you want me to kiss it better for you, I'm more than willing to-" Emma: (Cutting in:) "That's not what we had in mind." Will: (Smiles:) "Pity. (Sighs, turning back to Regina:) All right then, what do you want me to do?" Regina: "We'd like you to accompany Ella on her journey to Wonderland." Will: (Relieved:) "Is that all? No problem." Emma: "Across all areas of Wonderland. Parts that didn't make it into the story books." Will: (Eyes widening:) "Y-you want me to take her to... No, no I'm still a wanted man down there. You'd be signing my death warrant. (To Regina:) I'll take the pile of ash option before I go there again." Ella: (Entering the room:) "Please, Will. (Will turns to face her:) Henry and I, we've looked for my mother all over the realms with no sign of her. I know she's out there somewhere. (Moving closer to him:) I know how long it took you to find your way back to Alice. All I'm asking for is the chance to be reunited with someone that I love. Won't you help me?" Will: "You don't realise what you're asking, none of you. (Looking around the room, sighs:) All right, I'll do it. If your mother's out there then of course I'll help you find her. (Ella pulls Will into a huge hug, which Will returns until he sees the looks on the faces of Ella's would-be mother in laws. Pulling away, clears his throat:) Of course, I'm gonna have to ask Tiana before I can go anywhere." Ella: "Oh, I already asked her, actually it was her idea." Will: (Flatly:) "Oh, good."

Regina: "Then it's settled. No time like the present." Will: "N-now?" Emma: "Unless you've changed your mind about option A?" (Will shakes his head.) Ella: (Smiling:) "Oh this is going to be so great. I'm so excited." (Will allows himself to be pulled from the room as Emma watches them go with amusement.) Emma: "You know, (Turning back to Regina:) you're still pretty hot when you go all 'Madam Mayor' on people." Regina: "Why thank you 'Miss Swan'." Emma: (Bites her lip:) "Don't start." (At that moment the phone rings and, after giving her wife a flirtatious smile, Regina answers the call.) Regina: "Hello, Mayor Swan-Mills speaking. What? Where? Oh for god's sake. I'll be right there." Emma: (As Regina hangs up:) "Problem?" Regina: "Of the Charming variety. Come on, I'll explain on the way." Kingdom of Valencia. Marketplace. (Chef Vincenzo and Gwynne the maidservant are buying supplies in the marketplace.) Chef: "Look, I know a hook-up from your boss isn't the smoothest thing, but... I don't care. Because, truthfully, I think we could be great together.” Gwynne: "But love isn't meant for people like us." Chef: "Oh, I beg to differ." (Taking Gwynne's hand, the pair proceed to dance together through the marketplace.) Chef: ♪ If I could share my life with you ♪ ♪ Just think how happy we'd be ♪ ♪ We'd share our hovel built for two ♪ ♪ Complete with vermin for three ♪ (Gwynne chuckles.) ♪ We could while away each hopeless day ♪ ♪ Comparing open sores ♪ ♪ Yes, life would blow, but much less, though ♪ ♪ If I could share mine with yours ♪ Gwynne: “No, I can't. It's impossible! (Chef moves to turn away, disheartened when Gwynne pulls him back.) ♪ If I could share my life with you ♪ Chef: ♪ Admit it, it would be nice ♪ Gwynne: ♪ We'd share one cot, one chamber pot ♪ Chef: ♪ Plus trench mouth, tapeworms, and lice ♪ ♪ We would have a dozen kids ♪ Gwynne: ♪ And maybe one won't die ♪ Chef: ♪ And the plague ♪ Gwynne: ♪ The runs ♪ Chef: ♪ Invading huns ♪ Both: ♪ Just think how time would fly ♪ ♪ If you could share your life with me ♪ ♪ I'll Cherish every foul breath ♪ Gwynne: ♪ The filth ♪ Chef: ♪ The rot ♪ Gwynne: ♪ The leprosy ♪ Both: ♪ The painful, lingering death ♪ ♪ Thank the Lord our life expectancy ♪ ♪ Is merely thirty two ♪ Gwynne: ♪ Yeah, it might be sweet misery ♪ Both: ♪ To share what's left with yo-o-o-u ♪ Chef: “So, me, you, dinner tonight, my place. You bring that pretty little smile of yours, and I'll supply the rest. (Gwynne nods and hurries away. To himself:) Yes!” (Turning, Chef bumps into a creepy looking man.) Jonas: “Please, we seek King Richard. Where can he be found?” Chef: “I…” (Jonas presses a seal into Vincenzo’s hand.) Jonas: “We have urgent business with the King.” Chef: “I’m sorry, any business you have with the King will have to be pursued through the usual channels. (Chef looks at the seal:) But this is the seal of the House of Tregor. Where did you get this?” Jonas: “It does not belong to me.” (Jonas turns to a woman, who pulls back her hood.) Catrina: “It belongs to me.” Chef: “My Lady.” (Vincenzo bows.)

Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Ella and Henry talk about heading back to Wonderland.) Ella: "I just know my mother is still out there. Now with Will as our guide through Wonderland I can't wait to resume the search." Henry: (Hesitant:) "Well, if anyone knows the secrets of Wonderland, it's definitely Will... or Alice for that matter." Ella: "Why do I sense a 'but' coming?" Henry: (Takes a deep breath:) "Do you really think this is the right time for us to drop everything and continue looking for your mother? I mean we were barely saving any money with three jobs between us and now-" Ella: (Nods:) "I know, I know. But this is my family we're talking about, how can you ask me to-" Henry: "Woah, wait. I would never ask you to stop searching for your mom. I just think that maybe the time isn't right for 'us' to start the search again." Ella: "What are you saying?" Henry: (Taking her hand:) "I'm saying I love you and I think you should absolutely go with Will to Wonderland." Ella: (Frowning:) "Without you?" Henry: "Ella, I can't quit working right now. I'm trying to build a future for the both of us. To put a deposit down on a house of our own." Ella: "You know I don't care about those things." Henry: "But I do. I want to be able to provide for you, for our family, both future and absent." Ella: "Are you sure about this?" Henry: (Nods:) "Go find your mom, I'll be right here when you get back." Elsewhere in Storybrooke. (The Charmings, Robin Hood and other volunteers are working to help the people of Dun Broch.) David: "We've set up tents in the woods and surrounding areas." Emma: (Handing Maria to Snow:) "Exactly how many people is this?" David: "Around half. Queen Guinevere and Lancelot have offered to shelter the rest, but given Dun Broch and Camelot's history..." Snow White: "Not everyone was receptive to the idea." Regina: (Nods:) "So Storybrooke has the lion's share." (Running a hand through her hair, Regina walks away from the table, a concerned look on her face.) Emma: (Following:) "Hey, 'Gina, wait up. This is not the end of the world. So it might be a little cosy around here for a little while." Regina: "It might be a long while unless Merida can lift the curse on her land." Emma: "Well, she is a queen, it's not like she hasn't faced challenges before." Regina: "Yes, but no-one as far as I know has ever been stupid enough to kill a unicorn. Who knows what challenges Merida may have to face." Emma: (Shrugs:) "Sucks to be her, I guess."

Regina: "Excuse me?" Emma: "Oh come on, you can't tell me you're not just a little excited by all this." Regina: "By what, Storybrooke being inundated with refugees?" Emma: "No, think about it. Henry and Ella are headed to Wonderland, so we finally have the house to ourselves for awhile and, on top of that, there's a new curse." Regina: "So?" Emma: "So? Regina, for once we have nothing to do with what's going on. We can just sit back and watch how things work out." Regina: (Thinks:) "You want us to do nothing and let someone else lift the curse? (Emma nods:) So you want us to become your parents?" Emma: (Raises an eyebrow:) "I want to use this opportunity to show people that they don't have to come to us all the time to solve their problems. That they can do things for themselves. Ever since we united the realms of story, people have been coming to us to defeat the latest snow monster, gorgon or wayward god that threatens them." Regina: "Because our magic is the most powerful in all the realms." Emma: "Yes, but if Merida succeeds, it just might mean that our time as heroes can finally come to an end." Regina: (Finally catching on, smiling:) "You're talking about retirement?" Emma: (Smiles:) "I think we've earned it, don't you?" Regina: "Well I can't say I haven't thought about it." Emma: (Knowingly:) "Mmhmm. Although, if you're worried about us turning into my parents, you could always join me behind those trees over there. (As Regina glances back over her shoulder:) I'm pretty sure they wouldn't approve of what I have in mind." (With a sultry smirk, Emma walks past Regina deeper into the forest. Running a hand through her hair once more, Regina spares the gathered mass of people one last look before following her wife into the forest and out of sight.) Storybrooke Heritage Park. (Mulan and Xena are sparring with Ruby and Gabrielle watching on.) Mulan: "You're mine now, Warrior Princess." Xena: "You know what, Sweetie? You talk too much." (The sounds of swords clashing and various battle cries travel up to the hill on which Ruby and Gabrielle are sitting.) Ruby: (Wincing:) "They do know this is supposed to be for fun, right?" Gabrielle: "Oh, Xena likes her fun to be on the rough side of things. She says it gets her juices flowing." Ruby: "Not just hers though I'll bet." Gabrielle: (Her cheeks reddening:) "No comment." Ruby: (Laughs:) "Are you blushing?" Gabrielle: "No, I... I just don't usually talk about my private life with anyone but Xena is all." Ruby: "Mm I can understand that. There couldn't have been many chances to talk with other women on the road, huh?" Gabrielle: "Not unless you count barmaids or psychotic blonde warriors trying to kill either of us, no." Ruby: "I bet you're glad those days are over now." Gabrielle: (Inclines her head, considering:) "For the most part. Xena and I have never really been homebodies, although I think Xena's finally showing signs of wanting to slow down a little. (As she says this, Xena performs a perfect triple mid-air somersault, knocking Mulan to the ground with two feet to the chest before landing with a flawless back flip:) Or maybe not."

(Riding on horseback, Merida arrives calling for Mulan.) Merida: "Mulan! I need your help." Xena: (Steps forward as Mulan picks herself up off the ground:) "Anything we can do?" Merida: (Shaking her head:) "No, I need someone I can trust." Gabrielle: (Walking alongside Ruby:) "No offense taken." Merida: "Sorry, I... I need the help of my former mentor." Mulan: "Why, what's happened?" Merida: "Dun Broch is cursed and as Queen I need to make amends before it can be lifted." Xena: "Sounds like quite the problem." Ruby: "There must be something we can do?" Merida: "Aye, there are refugee camps set up at both Storybrooke and Camelot, they need volunteers to look after the sick and the elderly while I do my damnedest to lift this curse. (Offers her hand:) Please, Mulan, there's no time to lose." Mulan: (To Ruby:) "Go on, help the villagers, if we need you, we'll know where to come find you." (With that, Mulan takes Merida's hand and allows herself to be pulled up onto the horse before riding off into the distance. Twirling her sword a few times in frustration, Xena sighs, then walks past Ruby and Gabrielle to take a seat on a nearby tree stump. Exchanging looks, they follow Xena with Gabrielle taking a seat beside her.) Gabrielle: "So, should we go see if your medical skills can be put to good use?" Xena: (Casually checking her sword for signs of damage:) "Hm? Oh, sure. I mean it's not like I'm doing anything else important now am I?" Ruby: "Well, helping those in need is kind of your thing, right?" Xena: (Looking to her briefly:) "Of course." Gabrielle: "Are you all right?" Xena: "Never better. Who wants adventure in their lives anyway, right? Certainly not us anymore." (Watching Xena walk away, Gabrielle smirks up at Ruby before standing.) Gabrielle: "The tougher the warrior, the more they pout when they aren't invited to play." Xena: (From a short distance away:) "I heard that!"

Kingdom of Valencia. (After dropping a customer off in his cab, Henry takes a moment to stretch his legs and decides to walk around Valencia feeling a little down.) Henry: (To himself:) "Once upon a time I was the Author, now I'm not even a decent writer. I have no magic, no real discernible skills. I can sword fight but I'm not the best. So what then? Am I destined to be a cab driver all my life? (Sighs:) Honestly, I have no idea what I am. (Notices something:) Oh! (Stands watching a blacksmith at work.) ♪ If I were a jolly blacksmith ♪ ♪ What a happy guy I'd be ♪ ♪ I would do all kinds of blacksmith stuff ♪ ♪ In my blacksmithery ♪ ♪ I would hit the thing with the other thing ♪ ♪ Till I made a different thing ♪ ♪ If I were a jolly blacksmith ♪ No, I'm not feeling it. Besides, I'd get filthy. There must be something better. Ooh! (Henry walks over to a market stall:) ♪ If I were a friendly farmer ♪ ♪ Wouldn't that be, oh, so sweet? ♪ ♪ I'd be planting greens and lots of beans ♪ ♪ And other things to eat ♪ ♪ Then I'd plant some eggs, then a couple pigs ♪ ♪ Then a yummy chocolate cake ♪ No, that's not right. Besides, any moron can plant a cake. I want to be special, needed, liked. I've got it! (Arrives at the beer stall:) ♪ If I were a merry brewer ♪ ♪ That would be a grand career ♪ ♪ I would pick the grapes and peel the grapes ♪ ♪ And stomp them into beer ♪ Damn it! (Sighs:) I don't know how to do anything. ♪ If I'm just a jolly nothing ♪ ♪ What am I supposed to do? ♪ ♪ Don't know where to go ♪ ♪ Don't know how to fit ♪ ♪ Don't know who to even be ♪ ♪ If I were a jolly ♪ ♪ Tailor ♪ ♪ Juggler ♪ ♪ Barber ♪ ♪ Wet nurse ♪ ♪ Cesspool worker ♪ Ugh, what difference does it make? ♪ I would still be me ♪

Meanwhile In Storybrooke... (At the exact moment of her son's existential crisis, Regina Swan-Mills can be found against a tree thoroughly enjoying herself. Cradling her wife's head and balancing with one leg over Emma's shoulder, it is all the mayor can do to keep her cries of ecstasy as quiet as possible. That is until both women hear a branch snap somewhere nearby. Scrambling to their feet and trying desperately not to fall over each other, both women stand ready for whomever or whatever is coming their way. Staring at the place where they’d heard movement, they watch astonished as a strikingly beautiful yet haunted looking woman staggers out from behind a tall oak tree.) Storybrooke Campsite. (Having joined Snow, David and others distributing food to the refugees, Queen Guinevere turns at the sound of a commotion coming from the tree line. When first seeing Emma and Regina emerge in a disheveled state, most people's attention returned to their own business as this sight was a common one in and around Storybrooke. Upon seeing the woman following behind them however, Guinevere's reaction causes everyone to stop what they're doing and take notice.) Guinevere: "Morgana!"

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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