Alright, this happened well over a month ago and I’m still upset about it…
A guy came through my self-checkout with two large items. He turned to me and asked if I could find someone to bring him a case of water. A whole list of things came to mind after he asked that:
•They’re right by the entrance. Why didn’t you grab one on the way in?
•You’re a grown man. Get it yourself.
•You didn’t seem to have an issue getting these two items you have here…
•You want me to call a whole other human to get one little case of water?!
•You’re a grown man. Get it yourself (yes, I thought this twice).
From where I stand at my station, I can look over and see the cases of water. It’s a little further away than I want to be from my station, but I opt to go get it for him since he’s apparently incapable in some way.
So I’m coming back with this case of water on my shoulder. I’ve made it 95% of the way there with no issue and THIS MOTHERFUCKER SAYS…
“Oh let me get that for you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
It took everything in me not to drop the shit on his foot.
MY DUDE. IF YOU WERE SO GOTDAMN CONCERNED ABOUT MY SAFETY, YOU SHOULDA GOT THE SHIT YOURSELF. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME GET ALMOST TO YOU BEFORE YOU DECIDE “Oh I can take it from here!”???!!!
Madison slowly falling for a cocky but extremely nervous Jefferson is my life. Can you write some of that please? There is not enough Jeffmads in the world.
“Is this your pencil?”
The voice behind him makes James jump, causing him to almost hit his head against the side of his locker. Cursing softly under his breath, James spins around, his eyes landing on a vibrant purple shirt that makes him want to close his eyes immediately. But instead he lets his eyes lift up, lingering on the smirk of the guy in front of him before sliding them up to his eyes.
“Your pencil,” the guy repeats, waving one in James’s face. “Is it yours? I thought I saw you drop it.”
James stares at the number two pencil that is still being waved in his face, and is about to say it isn’t his when the guy just leans over him and places it on the top shelf of his locker, leaning back with an even wider smirk.
“Thanks,” James finally manages to get out, despite the pencil not even being his. But he supposes it’s the thought that counts, anyway. So he turns back to his locker, shutting it with force (it always gets jammed), and then turns back around, a little surprised to see the guy still standing there. Does he know him? “Uhm…”
“I’m Thomas, by the way. I sit behind you, in history.”
“Oh, right.” James remembers him now, or at least remembers how he always seems to be dozing off in class whenever James turns to hand him a paper. “I’m James. Nice to meet you.”
“I’ll bet it is,” Thomas shoots back immediately, and James hopes he manages to refrain from rolling his eyes. By the smug smile still on Thomas’s face, he’s guessing he does. “How come we’ve never talked before?”
James shifts on his feet, not really knowing how to answer the question. “I don’t know. We just…haven’t?”
“Well I hope that will change.”
“Right.” James shifts again and clears his throat, unsure of what to say next. When he looks back up at Thomas, he’s still staring at him with that same, smug smile. James can feel his skin starting to prickle. “I…I have to get to class, so…”
“Of course.” Thomas steps to the side, sweeping out an arm to let James pass, his smile faltering for a moment before it’s back full force. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.”
“Yeah,” James says, laughing a little. “I’m guessing tomorrow in class.” And with that he steps around Thomas, walking a little faster than usual to make up for the time he lost chatting. But he only makes it a few steps before he’s peeking back over his shoulder, unable to stop himself. He catches a glimpse of Thomas through the crowd of students, still standing by James’s locker, looking down at his feet with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
James can’t help but think of that stupid smile the rest of the day.
Thomas’s inner monologue for the next week or so consists mainly of “oh my god oh shit oh fuckfuckfuck!” and it all has to do with James Madison. Stupid, quiet, beautiful James Madison.
Thomas has sat behind James in that history class for months. He’d even paid Angelica five dollars to get her to switch seats with him. He spent every class staring at the back of James’s head, daydreaming and trying to build up the courage to talk to him. But every time James turned around to pass a paper or a test to Thomas, he’d turn back around too fast for Thomas to even try.
So Thomas had sunk to desperate levels.
He had watched James walk out of class one day, hugging his books to his chest, and Thomas fished a pencil out of his pocket, determined to talk to James. And he did. He pretended that James had dropped a pencil, and he’d introduced himself. The only problem is, James had seemed completely uninterested.
He had barely spoken to Thomas, and his response to Thomas saying they’d see each other soon had made Thomas’s stomach tighten. Had James been making fun of him? None of this was going as planned. And to make things worse, a whole week had gone by since then, and James hadn’t made any effort to talk to him during class.
So when Thomas sulks into history class the following Thursday, he slides past James without saying a word, and plops into his seat with a sigh. He doesn’t even try to pay attention to Professor Washington’s lecture, and decides to stare at the pattern of James’s sweater instead. However, about half way through class, James turns in his seat to look back at him.
“Do you have an extra pencil?” James asks, his voice soft. He blinks at Thomas, having no clue what effect those eyes have on him. “Thomas?”
“Hm? Oh.” Thomas shoves his hands into his pockets, searching, and then realizes his only extra pencil is the one he had given to James last week, the one he had pretended James had dropped. “I don’t, sorry.”
“That’s okay,” James answers in the same soft voice, already starting to turn back around.
Thomas takes a deep breath before reaching out to touch James’s shoulder, hoping his hand isn’t shaking. “You…you can just borrow mine.” He holds out his pencil and smiles, a sudden thought entering his mind. “As long as you promise to let me borrow your notes.”
“You’re sure?” James asks after a moment, and Thomas can’t nod fast enough. He’s sure. “Thank you.” James takes the pencil from him, their fingers brushing against each other briefly, and Thomas thinks his heart is going to burst out of his chest at the contact.
“Anytime,” Thomas murmurs, and James smiles at him, causing butterflies to flutter in his stomach.
He spends the rest of the class staring dreamily at the back of James’s head.
Thomas follows James to his locker after class ends, a spring in his step and a smile still on his face as James hits his locker a few times before opening it. “So…those notes?”
“Right.” James searches inside one of his folders. “Just get them back to me tomorrow, if you can. We have that test coming up in a few weeks.”
“Do you want to study together?” Thomas asks before he can really think about the words. But when James looks up at him in surprise, Thomas feels his stomach drop. Shit. “I-I mean, if you want to. I’m pretty great at history, so I could help you out.”
“You can help me out?” James asks slowly. “You fall asleep in class like, every other day.”
Thomas scoffs. “Not true.”
“Angelica takes pictures and sends it to everyone in the class.”
Fuck. “Well…” Thomas searches his brain for another way to convince James to study with him. “I only sleep because I already know everything there is to know about that class.” There. He crosses his arms and attempts to smirk down at James.
“Huh,” is all James says for a moment, turning away to close his locker. When he turns back to face Thomas, he thinks he sees an amused smile on his face. “Fine. We can study some time after school next week.”
“Great,” Thomas exclaims, the butterflies coming back at full force. “I knew I’d convince you.” He throws all caution to the wind and winks at James. “No one can resist me.”
James just hums in response, but Thomas sees his smile getting a little wider. “Well, class.” James points down the hallway. “I should get going.” He sounds almost reluctant, or that’s what Thomas wants to think. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Thomas.”
“See you tomorrow, James,” Thomas murmurs as he watches James walk away. He waits a few moments, holding his breath, but then James looks back at him again, like he did the first time. Their eyes meet for a moment before James spins back around, but not before Thomas sees the slight embarrassment on his face from being caught. Thomas waits a few more moments before turning around, pumping a fist in the air.
James is totally in love with him.
Somehow, without James really knowing why, he starts to hang out with Thomas Jefferson.
The guy is loud, always talking and waving his hands enthusiastically as he does. He taps his feet, his pens, his fingers, can never seem to sit still. It annoys James to no end, but for some reason, James doesn’t stop spending time with him. He evens finds himself enjoying being around Thomas.
They start eating lunch together, Thomas sneaking out of his study hall and sitting at a cafeteria table with James, trying to get him to eat whatever strange meal he’s made that day. (James refuses every time).
They talk more in class, James finding excuses to turn around to ask Thomas questions. He’s starting to notice that each time he turns around, Thomas’s whole face brightens up. It makes James’s face flush, and his heart flutter in his chest.
He doesn’t understand it.
He doesn’t understand why Thomas Jefferson of all people is making him feel this way. Thomas is cocky, obnoxious, bold…everything James isn’t, everything James thought he hated. But he doesn’t hate Thomas.
He doesn’t hate him at all.
“This is boring,” Thomas whines, tapping his pen against the table they are currently studying at in the library. “Can we take a break.”
“We just started,” James says, re-reading a line of his notes before copying it onto a clean piece of paper. “You’re not even trying.”
“Because I don’t need to try.”
“Right,” James says with a roll of his eyes. “I forgot, you’re a history genius.” He lifts his eyes to see Thomas smirking at him, and quickly looks back down at his notes. That goddamn smirk.
“I am a genius,” Thomas drawls out, clicking his pen closed and then open again. “I can teach all this to you in ten minutes, then we can go do something fun.”
“This is fun.”
Thomas outright groans at that, causing a few students to glare in their direction. “You’re the worst. Why do I even like y-“ Thomas cuts off suddenly, and James looks up at him to see an almost horrified look on his face. “Never mind. I love to study. I’m going to do that now.” He flips open his history book and basically shoves his face into it.
James stares at him in confusion for a few moments, not understanding what just happened. What is Thomas freaking out about? James stares at him harder as he tries to figure it out.
“Stop staring at me,” Thomas mutters, looking at James over the top of his book.
“You stare at me all the time,” James says, his eyebrows shooting up when Thomas lets his book drop onto the table with a bang. “What?”
“I don’t, I do not stare at you,” Thomas splutters, looking distressed. “I-what? Who told you that?”
“Angelica sends me videos,” James says with a shrug. “You stare at me during class. Or at least my sweaters.” James peers down at the sweater he’s currently wearing. “Are they that weird looking?”
“No!” Thomas groans and rubs a hand over his face. “Why are we talking about this? I thought we were here to study?”
“I thought you were bored?”
“I’m not,” Thomas argues, clicking his pen again. His eyes dart up to James’s, and then back down to the table. “You’re the one who must be bored, since you’re the one starting conversation.” He pauses before smiling. “But then, it is me, I would talk to me, too.”
“Shut up,” James says with a sigh, looking back down at his notes. He makes it a few second before the clicking of Thomas’s pen makes him look back up. “Can you stop? Don’t you have a pencil you can use?”
“No, cause you took both of mine.”
“Both?” James asks, trying to remember the second pencil he took. He hears Thomas make a strange spluttering sound. “I only took one.”
“Right,” Thomas says quickly. “One. That’s what I meant to say. One, you only took one of my pencils.” He looks away.
A memory comes back to James, a memory of how him and Thomas first met. “Wait,” James leans over the table slightly, a warm feeling blooming in his chest. “When we met, you gave me a pencil, one you thought I dropped.”
“Did I?” Thomas asks casually, but James can hear how high pitched his voice comes out. “I don’t recall.”
“It was your pencil,” James says, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re a big liar.”
“Well you’re a…a…” Thomas bites at his lips, apparently trying to come up with a comeback, but then he throws his hands in the air, a wild look in his eyes. “Well you’re so goddamn quiet and stupid with your sweaters and your face and what else was I supposed to do? You drive me crazy, I was desperate!”
Silence falls between them after that, and James wonders if the whole library can hear how loud his heart is beating. Thomas is staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly, and James clears his throat once…twice.
“You…” James licks his lips, feeling his face grow warm. “You…like me?”
“I fucking adore you,” Thomas says, his eyes growing a bit wider at the confession. He stares at James, hands fidgeting on the table. “Do…do you…like me?”
“Oh.” James bites at the inside of his cheek, his whole body feeling like it’s vibrating. Is this actually happening. “Yes.”
“Yes,” Thomas repeats slowly. “Yes.” He says it louder that time. “Yes?”
“Yes,” James says again, laughing a little. “I like you.”
“Of course you do!” Thomas practically shouts. “I’m Thomas Jefferson!”
“Oh my God,” James puts his hands over his face, wincing at how loud Thomas is being. But he guesses he should get used to it. “Don’t shout, Thomas.”
“You like me,” Thomas whispers, and James lifts his head to see Thomas wearing the biggest smile he’s ever seen. “Huh.” He lunges across the table to take James’s hand in his. “We’re going on a date this weekend. I’ll plan it. It will be great, the best date you’ve ever had, trust me. When can I pick you up? Seven is best for me, but eight is alright too, or we can-”
“Thomas,” James interjects, squeezing his hand, which is warm in his. “Let’s study first, okay? We can plan our date after.”
“Okay,” Thomas breathes out, looking a little dizzy. He shoots James another smile before looking down at his textbook.
They study in silence for a few minutes, but James knows none of the information is going into his head. He’s too focused on the feeling of Thomas’s thumb brushing over the back of his hand, and the happiness spreading through his chest.
“Hey, Thomas?” James asks quietly.
“I’m keeping the pencils.”
Thomas laughs softly, lacing their fingers together. “Sounds like a fair trade to me.”
100% serious headcanon: Mila refuses to accept Yuuri into the family until he lets her lift him. It’s initiation, Yuuri. Everyone else at this rink has been hefted up over Mila Babicheva’s head like a sack of potatoes at least once. NOW ITS YOUR TURN.
Ok…. I was rewatching Beauty and the Beast and I found incredibly fitting parallels between Gaston and Tamlin. Here the scenes that made me think of ACOMAF:
“You’re going to be a High Lord’s wife,” Rhys said. “You’ll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows … It’s a necessary skill.”
“I’m sure there are things to help with around the house.
Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for Winter Solstice.”
There was nothing but wedding planning waiting for me in the
house, since Alis refused to let me lift a finger to do anything. Not because
of who I was to Tamlin, what I was about to become to Tamlin …
Save me—please, save me. Get me out. End this.
Tamlin took a step toward me—concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin’s mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us.
Ianthe said smoothly, “Come, Bride, and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.”
Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul, was damned— I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice the word. No—no.
Tamlin’s face contorted with wrath. “They’re monsters. They’re—” He didn’t finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away.
snarled at him, “I don’t give a shit if she’s your mate. I don’t give a shit if
you think you’re entitled to her. She is mine—”
You are the pillar
that is the temple of your body,
Do not let them turn your bones to ash.
You are a phoenix,
A blazing life
The cruelest words can not snuff out.
They are fuel to your fire,
Let it forge your heart.
Do not build your walls around it,
Build them beneath it;
Let them lift you up.
And when someone worthy comes along,
Instead of knocking them down,
They’ll have to climb it,
They’ll risk that fall,
To stand beside you,
And on days the air is thin,
They’ll hold their breath,
Just to share that view.
You might feel cold,
And Crack like stone,
But you are Everest;
There are days you feel
You cast the largest shadow,
But at your highest you reach your peak;
The sun is always shining,
The stars are always out,
And you stand above the storm,
The hurricane of your life
Could never tear you down;
Render it to gusts,
Tear that tornado to pieces
Till it is a whisper in your ear.
Let it be the wind at your back.
Have it fill your sails
Propel you towards your dreams;
There is no ocean you cannot cross.
There are no waters deeper than your soul;
The sea is afraid of being lost in you.
And I know there are chasms,
Too far for anyone to reach,
Crevices you feel the light never touches,
But you never needed the sun;
There’s no light at the end of that tunnel,
You are bright enough to light it from within,
And it is through that darkness you will shine.
Just keep moving forward,
Put your hands out and embrace the day.
One foot in front of the other,
One step at a time;
And when you turn to look back
The miles of your life
Will look like no more then a path in the forest.
And even that one day will grow over,
And you’ll think of it,
But that scar in the earth will have rendered
To a footprint in your past.
And even that you may remember the shape
But forget the feel of it beneath your feet.
It will become an indent
In the sands of your hourglass.
Let them fall off your back like beaded water,
Let them cleanse you like rain,
Stand in the eye of your storm,
And know it’s stillness;
You are formidable.
Love yourself from the ground up,
Count every inch;
You need no one else to feel you’re worthy.
Know your Worth.
I would like to ask for your participation in something I feel is very important, and the reason I wrote this peice. This poem is about worth; self worth, Those worthy of being apart of our lives, being worthy of being apart of someone else’s. If there is someone in your life you want to let know is Worthy, or maybe needs a pick-me-up, I would like you to reblog it, tag them in the post so they see it. Read it over the phone, send it in a letter, just let them know. I wrote this for all the wonderful worthy people out there. Whatever is going on in your life; you are loved.
•Lots of kisses
•cuddle time would be amazing
•Being referred to As “Rebs girl” by his friends
•Double dates with Dylan & his girl
•He would be so proud that he’d show you off
•He would be the jealous type ASF
•He’d be very OVER protective
•He wouldn’t lie to you
•He’d ask YOU how your day was going, always wanting to know
•He’d come to you for things most f the time.
•Tutor sessions with him would be great cause if you wouldn’t understand some things he’d explain them to you using M&M’s
•He’d take YOU TO meet his parents!!!
•Giving you lifts everywhere
•Letting you shoot with him at the rampage
•Being goofy around you always
•when you’d be sad he’d make these goofy faces and he’d always make this “Nrghhhh” sound that you’d just have to laugh at Bc it would be so cute
•He’d tell you all about his Pectus Excavatum.
•He’d let you in..
•you’d know all his fears and his dark thoughts
•HES SUCH a sweetheart!! HES REALLY romantic too!!
•On the surface at school he’s known as reb, but with you he’s Eric the dork that you love.
•VHS and chill? I think yes
•He’d spoil you whenever he could
THATS ALL FOLKS!!
DONT ROAST ME PT.2 MY GOD
I did this for you anon ❤️ since you asked I hope you like it