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sunsents · 3 years

Text

Empty - F.W (1/2)

Gah daym this was a JOURNEY to write. I swore to myself to never write angst because, well I suck at it. But here we are, I swear this has a good ending because my heart can't bear that. I could've written this much better, so I promise to bring my A GAME for chapter 2. Enjoy, also Lee in this is a hate crime. This is very story telling-esk so I hope it flows well.

I wouldn't have written this chapter without the help of my good friend @mochiixjimin she helped me edit and spice up this whole thing so thank you so much to her! She's an amazing writer, go check out her work and show her some big love right now or else!! her wattpad

Chapter 1 out of 2 (Backstory)

Summary —> Life has always been a cruel joke to you, yet you simply play along. Overshadowed by Eva Burke your whole life, watching from the sidelines while everyone flooded each other with love, it would always feel like a joke.

Pairing: fredweasley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST (with a fluffy ending in the second part) / One mature scene (18+) and then it's angst again <3 / Some slander / Offensive language

Rating: 18+

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

You were a bright child.

Beaming bright enough to keep a tight lipped smile during flu-shots, and enough to put on a happy façade when your dad threw away the drawing you had done of your family dog, rather than hang it up on the fridge.

Children have foolish dreams, and that was yours. Your friends in preschool boasted about their pictures being hung like trophies on fridges, with decorative magnets and even bigger pink bow ties.

The fridge in the Y/L/N manor was empty. Always empty, just how Ms. Y/L/N liked it. Empty marble floors with empty rug designs, and empty rooms with even emptier people living in it. They were both empty people. Hollow and void of any emotion, at least towards you.

You were different though. You were filled to the brim with ambition and hope and so many positive emotions that your parents never seemed to reflect on you. You were like those Disney princesses. The princesses always had hope, and when you have hope good things happen.

Right?

Your dad never meant to give you false hope. He just wished you’d keep your mouth shut as he worked until late hours. Using big words and having big aspirations, you shouldn’t have.

Mr and Mrs Y/L/N weren't bad people per say, just busy. They didn't know how to raise a child, this was obvious, because the purpose of even having a child was to fix their marriage. But a temporary fix wouldn't do it, it never did. There was always that hole on the roof, leaking rain of despair into their falsely built home that no bucket big enough could hold back. Because it always found a way to overflow.

They didn't know how to show their love, so they did it with money, clothes, toys and crayons that you would later use to draw pictures of your family, only to have them end up in the dumpster once again.

They spoiled you rotten, bought you gifts you never even dreamed of asking. You just shut up and enjoyed it, what else could you do? Whine and demand attention? Risk losing their favor? There was no favor to lose.

You got yourself a fat A plus on your third grade math test. Star stickers on your chest, you entered through the glass double doors of your house with a crooked smile - two front teeth missing of course - making your joy all the more endearing. Your backpack strapped tightly over your narrow shoulders, hanging low with all the crammed books you pushed before leaving school because you were just so excited to show your parents.

You received a big sloppy kiss from your Nanny, who practically was like a second mom to you, and dashed right into your fathers office to show him your new accomplishment.

"Good job, I'm proud of you."

You froze. You found a way to actually get their attention. The attention you so craved, the recognition you would die for. This was revolutionary. Basically a new era for you.

Nanny made you a star shaped cake that night, and sat with you while gently stroking your hair and listening to you blabber about how easy the math questions were. It felt warm, motherly love. Even if it was false, it would never compare to the love of your own mother, a love you would never get.

You spent all your night studying, your eyes burning under the harsh light of your lamp in the early mornings and your pencil, ebbing away over sheets and sheets of blank paper. Writing away your little hands off until they ached, just to snatch another A and get a good job.

This was good, it worked out very well. You became that student who looked forward to class, just to get a good grade and have the validation of your parents. The sight of your father’s lips quirk up even in the slightest, and how your mother’s eyes shone briefly in appreciation of your hard work, even if it was for a quick second, it was worth it.

Until the new neighbors moved in.

Mr. Burke was a round, cheerful man with an even rounder belly, and a big fat pipe that always hung on his lips. Mrs Burke looked and acted like those fairy godmothers you adored. You couldn’t believe such people existed. Mr Y/L/N invited them over for dinner, for courtesy. He was not happy about said courtesy.

He ended up liking the couple, they had a little daughter called Eva, who was small and adorable with round red cheeks and big doe eyes. Not only Mr and Mrs Burke, but the Y/L/N’s adored Eva as well. She was happy, always smiling, and her teeth weren't nearly as crooked as yours, not to mention she had pretty long hair like a princess.

You liked her a lot, took her to pick flowers, showed her the drawings you had prepared for the empty fridge; in case Mr Y/L/N ever had a change of heart and hung them up, you had been trying for three years and weren't giving up any sooner.

Eva was nice, kind enough to share her M&M's and very used to compliments unlike you. She seemed to get a lot from her parents and yours. The adults were so kind to her, always smothering her with love and kisses. You were happy for Eva, happy that Eva somehow managed to gain the favor of your parents before you did.

Little girls tended to be jealous, you weren’t. You were just glad to have a friend so cool, she didn't blush and stutter under praise and apparently her drawings were pretty enough to go on a fridge.

It was a Thursday afternoon when your mom smiled at you for the first time since your last exam grade. "Look, Eva drew us a picture, isn't it pretty?"

The crayola stash under your bed was no longer needed, they appeared clumsily dumped in the neighborhood trash the next day, most of them stomped under the pressure of your little sneakers. And the bundle of drawings you hid under your pillow, wishing on fairy godmother that one day they would be hung up too, were ripped; clearly a struggle given. You had paper cuts on your hands, and your Nanny thankfully applied ointment before Ms and Mr Y/L/N noticed, or rather, stopped to care.

Though you knew that even if you paraded herself with bloody fingers dripping to your elbows, they wouldn't care.

Nanny did, she was there. There when you were haunted with nightmares when the moon was particularly dark, cooing at you and letting you sleep next to her in that small bed of hers. There when you tripped and fell, small scratch resulting in a screaming tantrum. She was gentle, sweet, paid well.

You decided to go and pick flowers with Eva, and make a pretty flower crown for yourself, months after your drawing incident. Of course, you didn't have such silly dreams anymore. You didn’t wish to have your pictures hung, to have your mother wear the flower crowns you made and frankly you didn’t care for the sight of the sparkle in your parents eyes. Nanny’s was enough.

Eva agreed, dressed in a pink tutu Mrs Y/L/N gifted. You didn't comment, though deep down you gazed at the skirt in sparkling envy. Your mother never bothered to get you such pretty things. The two of you gathered saturated petals and nice ribbons while giggling amongst yourselves. Until, you accidentally caused Eva’s flowers to levitate.

Eva ran home, crying and calling you a witch. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N’s dirty looks made her feel shameful, and even dirtier when a letter addressed to her was dropped by a pretty owl you insisted on petting. It was from a school called Hogwarts, in the faraway land of London, and it seemed, not only you but Eva got the same letter the next day.

Though the Y/L/N’s and Burke’s were proud of Eva’s letter. They weren’t with yours.

— — — —

The ride to Hogwarts was interesting to say the least. You had so many questions unanswered, were you a fairy godmother too? Was that your destiny? Was that the reason you never got any attention, because you were destined to give instead of receive?

Eva was cheerful as always, making fast friends in newly bought uniforms and holding a pretty, long and thin wand, with designs flowing across the premise. Your wand was...functional. You were sad you couldn't choose, and that the wand chose the owner. It didn't make sense, what if you didn't want this wand? What if you wanted something charming like Eva’s? It should have been mutual.

It was while trying to find your way to the bathroom that you met the Weasley twins. Quite handsome, a year older and absolute fucktards. A word you learned from the two. Though you always found yourself laughing more at Fred’s jokes, you liked them both equally.

“Hey George! Look.” Fred had exclaimed, clinging onto his brothers shoulder and dragging him across. “Who's that girl?”

You introduced yourself, happy façade on, gentle words slipping out of your mouth like nectar. They had to like you, you told yourself. Just this once, more than Eva.

When sorted into Gryffindor, Eva, you and the twins became inseparable. Your group grew in second year, when Katie, Lee and Alicia Spinnet joined the bunch. You would make fun of the ghastly Potions Professor Snape, and imitate Dumbledore in the hallways to mess with the older students.

You loved your time at Hogwarts, and the adventures that came every year. Especially when Harry Potter joined.

“Hey Fred.”

Fred, who was fiddling with his bracelet you had bought him hummed in response, not bothering to look up.

You sighed, “Do you think the flowers can feel it when we pluck them?”

Fred turned at that, his bracelet was now tightly secure after his struggles. “I hope not.” he smiled, a faraway look on his face whenever he gazed at you. “You know, some people like pain.” he winked.

You merely looked at him confused, clearly way too young for...whatever that is.

He started laughing loudly, slapping his knee and causing you to scoff and slap him on the shoulder.

Third year was when it bloomed. The slight girly attention you gave Fred grew. Fred was...Fred. A handsome ginger, beater for their house's Quidditch team, always charming and charismatic that somehow oozed out of him whenever he did anything really. It was not unusual, every girl in school had a crush on him. That wasn't the case, Fred was one of your best friends, and you refused to entertain the idea of a possible...relationship.

Yet sometimes, you'd find yourself thinking about hugging and kissing Fred like you’d seen couples in your favorite movies did and you’d fall asleep with reddened cheeks and a boy with even redder hair in your mind.

But feelings couldn’t be controlled, nor easily hidden. Eva found out in your fourth year after hearing you mumble his name in your dreams. Fred Weasley was getting more handsome as years passed, and you found it hard to contain your feelings. You were crushing, hard.

Eva was...Eva about it. Happy, but nothing changed. She didn't tease like George did when he found out, nor did she act any differently towards Fred.

“Hey ____!” Fred had sat next to you, shaking the entire couch because he grew that tall during summer. “Got a new girl after me.” he looked at you, almost expectantly, as if you wouldn’t react the way you always reacted.

“That’s great Fred.” you smiled, gulping whatever lump that was forming in your throat and struggling to come out as vulgar words you wished to yell.

“Yeah,” Fred sighed, “It’s...great.”

Fred Weasley was a ladies man, and he wasn't afraid to show it. It was okay, because you were happy enough to be one of his closest, and that was enough. He often boasted about getting girls, and how successful his jokes were, and you always loved snapping back to him cockily, even more cockily than him. Playful banter was easy, comforting between them and when he turned away you would love to shyly entertain the idea of being one of those girl’s Fred talked about.

Fifth year, you had a sudden growth spurt. That was also the year where you discovered Cosmopolitan, Vogue and of course Witch Weekly. Hair no longer in a ponytail, legs shaved and smooth, short skirts with no nylons, you were a new person. After getting your period in third year, your spurt came late, but sudden. Way too sudden in the time of three months. It was hard to handle the changes occurring to your body. It was all too much that you had to become a lady and the fact that you didn’t have your mother to help was a pain you hid deep within.

It was as if whichever god above decided to squeeze your entire life into a summer and call it a day, because it was simply too busy. How ironic. No one saw your growth except old Nanny Gladys. Not Eva, nor her parents considering they went on a getaway and the Burke's, who had gone to Brazil.

But you were over that, you discovered the great telephone, and the great Hermione Granger, package deal with Ginny Weasley. You guys would talk on the phone for hours upon hours, Ginny obscuring your personality and Hermione altering your view on your parents. And Hermione was right, they were assholes. You didn't give a flying fuck about empty praises anymore.

You had become almost too tall for your older clothes, and your breasts were way too big to fit in the training bra you bought not even a month ago. Your hips, now wide and swaying as you walk became graceful, were decorated with long gem bracelets.

You cursed like a sailor that summer, ran around fields with family - your family being your dog, Jambo - bare feet. You stomped on flowers you used to pick as a little girl, stomping on those silly fairytale dreams you used to nurse, and never felt freer. For the first time ever you felt that maybe being empty could be more freeing than having false hope weighing you down.

Returning to Hogwarts was a big deal to students. Who changed, who glowed up after what happened last year - nothing, it was all childish drama.

Before your parents could even see your new self, your escapade to the Granger household was successful. The Y/L/N's didn't care, nor did they write. You knew it should’ve hurt, but frankly, you didn’t think having the pain in your chest was worth it. Hermione was awestruck, of course, after laying her sights on you for the first time since May and insisted on walking into the Entrance Hall, arm in arm with her and Ginny to show you off like some sort of revelation.

It was a revelation all right, at least to the boys, and some girls. It seemed no one saw you as a girl before. George oogled, and Lee was so shocked to find out that you were actually a girl with a pretty figure and an even prettier smile that he stopped clapping you on the back like he always did. Not a girl, you have become a woman. It was far too sudden, new uniforms and a whole new wardrobe had to be bought.

"____? You were a girl?" Fred joked, ruffling your hair like nothing changed between you. And that's when you realized, no slutty skirt, how much pushup your bra, or no matter how pretty your hair looked, Fred would always see you as ____, the girl with crooked front teeth and who once ate a worm in second year. Your teeth weren't crooked at all anymore - thanks to a few years of braces - and finally clear of uncomfortable metals but you felt as if Fred would always see the ghost of them on your pearly whites when you smiled.

He had this view of you that blinded him, caused him to treat you as he treated Ginny while he flirted and played footsie with other girls, including Eva.

That did not stop Eva from giving you false hope, and you took the bait, naive like always. Hope, that's what ruined it all. "You're beautiful now, of course you have a chance!" she said, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly, as if she had warmth to begin with.

It was all false, yet you still believed. You always had. Like a fool.

Ginny didn't like Eva, and maybe that's why you gravitated towards her. She was the first person who had ever met Eva that wasn't charmed by her kind smile and attractive words. Eva was...displeased. She grew up having the attention of everyone around, so when Ginny Weasley told her straight to her face that she wasn't shit, Eva seethed. The attention of Ginny changed nothing though, because Eva was the main character. Everyone - except Ginny, and secretly Hermione (though she would never say it) - loved her, they followed her around like puppies and praised her on her wonky wand work.

The upcoming Yule Ball brought great upswing to Hogwarts.

You were far too busy with her classes to take interest in the tournament - even though the dragon race was the gnarliest sight you had ever seen. Your goal was set, become a badass Auror and move out as soon as possible, so you didn't have to face your parents (except Holidays, yuck.)

But the Yule Ball was your chance. A chance with Fred Weasley.

You could ask to go as friends and maybe, just maybe a little hope and the night would end much more romantic than you had anticipated.

Plucking up courage was the hardest part, you practiced with your bathroom mirror so long that Ginny had to blast through the door and drag you out of her dormitory.

Fred Weasley agreed, why wouldn't he? You, his closest friend, asking to go as a group and drink all night while gossiping? It was a win win. At least that's what you told herself.

That was a lie, it wasn't a win win.

You gave it your all getting ready, dress silk, makeup and expensive shoes. You took a long shower, scrubbing and shaving yourself to a smooth gliding porcelain, only for it all to be washed down with reddened eyes and a boy with even redder hair.

Fred greeted you the same, danced the same, and you chatted the same; you were reminded again, for the second time, that you stood no chance.

Fred told you that he was going to get drinks, a quick trip to the booth and mumbled I'll be back in a second. He was not back in a second. Several minutes passed, and your worries caused your feet to follow after Fred's footsteps.

You ran, trying to find him in the empty corridors of Hogwarts, tears welling in your eyes because he wouldn't. He wasn't that cruel, life wasn't that cruel.

But it was, and in a distant empty classroom you saw Fred Weasley, on his knees and between Eva's legs, groaning and praising her like a starved man. Worshipping her like everyone else had, burying himself in her and completely forgetting the drink he’d bring back in just a second. He’d left you thirsty and alone in the Great Hall and left you to drink from a cup he hadn’t known to be forbidden. Yet Eva did.

Eva's perfect dainty hands tangled in his ginger hair, thighs clamping shut while her high pitched moans flooded your mind and echoed around your head. They were so loud that she couldn’t even hear the loud echoes of your footsteps and the woeful cries that left your lips as you ran. It wouldn’t be the first time she had ignored your pain for her own selfish reasons.

Your heart shattered, and suddenly you were six again, watching your parents praise Eva, hang her drawing on the fridge. A soft breeze tickling your bare toes, dangling from the small cushioned seat you sat on while you watched Eva braid Mrs Y/L/N’s hair. Emotionless, silent, not asking for anything, knowing that you won't receive in return. Eva's small hands carefully placed the flower crown on Mrs Y/L/N’s pool of hair, and she smiled, heart warming and hopeful. Suddenly you remembered the feel of your own hands tangling in between your locks as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to imitate your mothers braid on yourself in the mirror you couldn't reach. You pretended, only for a moment before it twisted into knots.

What a cruel joke, you thought as you watched Eva receive the world from Fred, from your parents, from your friends and from every damn person you had met.

You cried on a big set of stairs that night, your wails echoing as you asked whoever, whatever what you had done. What you had done to deserve such treatment from the people around you. It was rather cliche - and maybe a bit too dramatic. It was an uncomfortable seat of course, and your body, as well as your heart, ached. Pain, misery, false hope and enough hair spray to melt the ozone.

The princesses always cried on big sets of stairs, uncomfortable stone floors causing them to shiver while they hid away their beautifully animated faces in their perfect hands. This was different, there was no fairy godmother to fix your makeup and clone a gentlemanly Fred Weasley, a perfect prince. You knew, because you cried, and prayed and cried and prayed until your throat was sore. There was no fairy godmother, it was all a lie. There was no happy ending. There would be none.

No one came to find you that night either, and you had to drag yourself back to the Gryffindor common room, feet bare, mascara, blush - anything else you put on in hopes of being able to become like Eva even only for one night - practically nonexistent from the way your tears washed them away.

You didn't sleep that night, and your head was unusually clear, pounding, but clear. You laid awake, eyes blood-shot and stinging while your dress shuffled uncomfortably between your sheets. You were too tired to change, and your dress was far too pretty to be worn so short.

Ginny's words replayed over and over again. "They're not worth it." her voice was so clear, and true. Mr and Mrs Burke weren't worth it. Your parents weren't worth it. Fred Weasley wasn't worth it. Eva wasn't worth it. The midnight chirping of bugs invited themselves in from your open window, and blue moonlight streaks beaming down in lines from the tulle curtain flowed with breeze, it was calming.

You felt calm, for the first time in sixteen years. You felt calm.

Fred and Eva started dating that week. Everyone acted like they expected it, and you realized just how blind you had been. Eva Burke and Fred Weasley, golden couple of Hogwarts.

You watched them, emotionless, as they embraced with love and so much passion that you felt embarrassed. Embarrassed at how you’d blushed and squeal over Fred in front of Eva and George and anyone who had found out because now you knew. Now you knew that their amused smiles were probably pitying grimaces because they knew that you two were never meant to be. It was always Fred and Eva.

Fred was an amazing boyfriend, making sure Eva was taken care of, lovingly staring at her whenever and wherever, arm looped around her waist at all times; you realized they were truly not worth it.

"You disgust me."

You didn't mean the words to escape so carelessly, but when you said them, you realized you didn't want to take them back. The growing pit in your stomach felt weightless. "Excuse me?" said Fred, stopping his nibbling on Eva's neck, who was just as shocked. You scoffed, Eva already had enough purple bruises to parade around so why did Fred have the need to add more?

"You heard me right," George, Lee, Ron, Harry, Katie and whoever sitting in their circle stared at you, wide-eyed, Ginny and Hermione, however, were grinning devilishly. Kind ____, wouldn't hurt a fly, quiet at times and didn't know how to stand up for herself. It was shocking, but you were done pretending. You didn't want to be like that anymore, you wanted to say whatever came to mind and not worry about the consequences. "You guys disgust me, I know I should be supportive but you don't match, at all."

You turned to George. "And you, no you can't talk about Katie like that." George went pink. "You're disgusting for sleeping around carelessly and telling girls you'd write, stop giving people false hope. Grow up. You’re nearly an adult and you can’t even treat a girl right."

"And you Lee," Lee went quiet. "What gives you the right to make fun of me like that. I'll wear whatever the fuck I want, just because you don't have the courage to wear a headband. If you can talk about my breasts, I'll talk about your shrimp."

"Ron, you take advantage of Hermione then lead her on. Open your eyes, asshole."

"Harry, you're not the main character. You're not always going to be the center of attention, nor do you have the right to yell at your friends."

"Alicia, god you're so stupid. I'm sorry, you're great but such an airhead. No, you can't ride a Thestral if you can't see them, and stop eating quill ink they're bad for you."

You stood up, grinning proudly, heart loud in your chest you feared someone might hear. "Frankly, I don't wanna be friends anymore. I'm done with this façade, except you two, 'Gin, Hermione. The rest of you are just so fake." she gestured to them. "Boys," she nodded again. "Don't talk to me anymore, and Lee, give me back the money, think it's about time don't you think? I've been paying for you since third year."

And with that, you left. You left Three Broomsticks, grin wide and chest heaving. Hermione and Ginny ran behind, whooping and cheering you on as they laughed.

The news of your outburst spread fast like wildfire caught in wind. That week was bliss, you no longer had to watch Fred and Eva, nor did you have to act sweet to anyone. You didn't have to laugh along Lee's sexist jokes and look away to wince, it was pure bliss. You realized that the feeling of being free didn’t have to be momentary.

Pansy Parkinson was surprisingly a good friend, she didn't have the same fakeness to her, the one Eva had where her smile was too kind. She spoke her mind, though every Slytherin did, and you liked that. Ginny wasn't happy with your new found friends, but she couldn't separate you. You made your own decisions from now on. It was refreshing.

You told your new friends everything, eager to get it off your chest and breathe, and they listened. For the first time, someone listened. You didn't have to get good grades, nor did you have to act like a sweet angel.

You teared up the first time Pansy said; "It's not your fault,". You knew it wasn't your fault, but hearing someone else say it with such genuine eyes made you believe. Actually believe.

It started off with you watching from the sidelines as Draco and Blaise pranked, insulted and shamed whatever your old friend group did. It wasn't unusual for Draco to act this way, but he got especially irritated after hearing what you told them. Blaise, someone usually quiet, had stepped up and decided to somehow release the pent up anger he had for the Gryffindor students.

The year ended, and you had started to sneak in an insult or two towards Fred and Eva. It felt nice, like finally, step by step you were clearing your years of hidden jealousy. But, there was no one to tell you that this simply wasn't the right way.

That summer, you stayed at the Burrow. Ginny had invited you and you were quick to say yes; obviously a fact forgotten. Fred, George and whoever you had insulted last year stayed in the same house. You simply didn't want to go home, and if this meant seeing Fred Weasley then you had to endure it.

Molly Weasley was the sweetest person you could ever meet, and it was genuine. It felt genuine, you feared your teeth might rot if the woman got another word in. Molly greeted you as if you were her own daughter she hadn't seen in years. You felt valued, seen.

Until Eva was there, Fred invited her. You had to watch the only person you were able to love, introduce the only person he was able to love to his mother. It wasn't you. It would never be you.

And you realized, even after everything, Eva had once again found a way to be more loved than you.

The grin Molly broke out was nothing short of beautiful, and you couldn't help but smile as well. The smile wasn't directed towards you of course, and you sat on that small kitchen chair, celebrating a relationship that caused your ruin.

Eva didn't care that your friendship was over, nothing budged in her life. She still got the same attention, still received the same love from Fred. The same affection, the same attention and the same everything. Or so it seemed.

Though unlike Eva, Fred merely watched you with sad eyes.

You stayed clear of the couple and the rest. You hung out with Ginny and Hermione only, ignoring the dirty looks Ron and Harry gave you. The secret, whispered insults Eva threw your way. George didn't say anything, but he didn't object either. This was enough to show how he felt. At this point you really didn't care. Why would you, when they didn’t either?

You held your head high just like Ginny and Hermione told you to, and you spoke in a loud and clear tone whenever asked something. Eva didn't, she stuttered when you spoke to her directly. Her words scrambled against each other when she tried to voice her insults in louder statements than a whisper. For the first time, you felt relief. You felt intimidating, protected by the barriers you had built around yourself.

Longest day of summer hit, and it boiled. Tanning became a distant dream, you would bake in this weather, and you were thankful to the big AC box you had brought from home. You couldn't sleep that night, sweat beads falling down your forehead that was already covered in a thin sheen. You had decided to get a cold glass of water, not sure how you ended up face to face with Fred Weasley. His wand tip shone with blue light, and his freckles were much darker because of the sun. It seemed the sun decided to be cruel to Fred Weasley back and wash Fred over with it's deathly heat. He was sunburnt, this was an understatement. He was burnt.

You couldn't help but start laughing when you met, ignoring the proximity, ignoring the sleeping house, dead silent and a big leap from the lively Burrow, ignoring Fred's soft breaths he let out every other second. You couldn't live off on false hope anymore.

Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore, and your face quickly fell. You took a big step back and inhaled, ready to ignore him like you had been doing for the past year. But Fred Weasley was a persistent man, and he gripped your arm and looked at you with determined, doe-like eyes. "Tell me what I did wrong." he said, adamant on fixing this, whatever this was. You both didn't know.

You stood silent.

"Please flower,"

"Don't call me that." you said, stern and gaze sharp. Fred didn't react, he kept on insisting.

"Please, tell me how to fix this. I can fix it," he pleaded, a plethora of empty promises fell out of his lips like nothing. He lied like it was nothing, he was oblivious to everything he and everyone around them had put you through. It was infuriating.

You didn't say anything. You knew he would not fix anything but maybe staying silent would give him the false hope that spinned mockingly in your head for the past eighteen years.

"I'm sorry, just please. I can fix this, I promise, don't be like that." empty tears fell down from his eyes. He looked empty, tired. They lacked the charm they usually shined with and you wondered if it was only you that caused such dullness. Eye bags prominent that you never noticed before. It all felt like a lie, a cruel joke.

Fred Weasley was simply a cruel joke. His presence could only be compared to a shot of whiskey, especially when you down it like how Hagrid nurses a Firewhiskey filled pint glass. You never know how it will hit you. But in the end, you'd always find yourself curled next to the toilet, crying your eyes out because your headache was simply too much.

He was sobbing now, hanging onto your waist like you would simply vanish and you let him. The grip he had on was like steel vice - almost concerning - but you didn't touch him, didn't say anything. You just let him be, like he did to you. Allowed him to hopelessly hang off you before you would eventually leave him alone, like he did to you. "Where did I go wrong? How could we end up like this? What went wrong?"

‘You’, but your voice couldn’t be found.

Questions were useless when the answer was already right in front of his eyes. You didn’t let a single tear fall, you wouldn't forgive yourself if you cried in front of him.

You blinked, and that night was over. Summer continued on like nothing happened, like it didn't leave you heart broken and in such shame yet again. You continued on ignoring Fred as he looked at you with sorrowful eyes. Looked at you more, with more than he did his own girlfriend.

You blinked and the school year started again with another terror looming around the corner. There was simply no need to keep up anymore, because school was easy. You attended classes, got good grades, a few scar here and there from Umbridge's torture chamber, a woman who stood at a whopping five foot three yet still teriffied an entire school.

You blinked and you had already become a proud member of Draco's insult the Gryffindor's club. You didn't even feel bad, being horrible to the people you hated for years felt like a breath of fresh air. You didn't go as far as physically hurting any of your old friends, but coming up with damaging insults was such fun. A lot more fun than sitting around with a fake smile.

You blinked, and you were already moving out from your childhood house. Mr and Mrs Y/L/N were unusually happy, this was a given. They would have a new empty room and make another office, like they didn't have enough already. You feared they would start getting rid of bathrooms once too into their work, and they would have to do their business in bushes or buckets. Scratch that, you didn't fear that, it would be fucking hilarious.

You blinked, and when had time passed too quickly? Where did all those empty childhood years had gone? You were already graduating, on your way to become an Auror. You had lost contact with all your old friends now, regretfully Ginny and Hermione too.

The war had hit too quickly, luckily you survived, so did your friends. Unluckily, it left you with a nasty scar right across your left brow. It looked sick, but the hit wasn't worth it. It hurt like a bitch. You could see, it was a close call but vision wasn't an issue. The trauma though, god did Bellatrix's breath smell bad.

When it was all over, you had seen Fred hugging his family tightly. It seemed the Weasley's all survived, and you gave them each tight lipped smiles while holding a bunched up rag to your head to stop the blood gushing out. This wasn't the reunion you wanted to have with Ginny, but hey, you take what you can get after a revolutionary Wizarding war you barely made out alive.

Before a franticly running Fred could reach you though, you apparated to your flat in Diagon Alley, ignoring the thrumming of your heart, and how you practiced in front of a mirror to congratulate their successful joke shop that morning.

#angst #hp angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #weasley twins #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fred weasley series #reader insert #harry potter fluff #harry potter fic #fred weasley imagine

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clansayeed · 3 years

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WIP Wednesday ft. Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 7

WORD COUNT: 1,160 RATING: Mature (this series is rated MATURE for graphic violence and adult content) FEAT: Nadya Al Jamil (MC), Jax Matsuo, Serafine Dupont CONTENT WARNINGS: language, spoilers for book 5

NOTE: Because I feel so bad about having to put book 5 on hiatus again, here’s a treat for WIP Wednesday! It’s not much, but any more would have been too many spoilers and I wanted to keep the suspense.

So enjoy this little snippet from the middle of Chapter 7 in the mean time, and once again I wanted to thank everyone who has been so supportive during this hiatus!

Bound by Destiny II, part 2 Chapter 7 releases February 10th! *Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Check out the first 4 books in the Oblivion Bound series, linked below!

⥼ ABOUT OBLIVION BOUND ⥽ | ⥼ FIC MASTERLIST ⥽

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby, @tayab12, @saratustra4, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @thepotatobleh

“I still can’t believe you just called the guy up.”

Jax has barely paid any of it a second glance; not the journey or the destination. He’s stayed in pretty much the same position the entire drive; arms never uncrossing from his chest and, to literally no one’s surprise, with his sword never leaving his lap.

“How would you rather I have gone about arranging this little parley then, hm?”

The two vampires stare one another down in silence. Suddenly the cabin feels a lot more cramped and heated than it did just a moment ago. Nadya tugs at the collar of her shirt in discomfort.

“I’m not saying I had a plan, but if I’d had time to make one it wouldn’t be walking through his front door.”

But the younger’s irritation only seems to amuse Serafine, who purses her lips into a thin line to keep from smirking at him too obviously.

“Ah, oui. I suspect you would have gone looking for a secret entrance of some kind… perhaps a sewage tunnel by which to secret yourself in and out undetected?”

Jax just shrugs. “Can’t say I wouldn’t.”

“I can.”

Two words and just like that all the mirth is sapped from the air around them. Nothing fills the void left behind; it stays hollow and empty with foreboding.

“If such a passage did exist, which I can assure you it does not, would the Order not have used it long ago in much the same way?” She raises a single eyebrow at Jax, continuing before he has a chance to answer her.

“While your modern methods are indeed a fresh eye on an old war, Jax, they seem to blind you to the full scope of the kind of life we have lived here for all these centuries. Safety is but a fleeting dream to us. No shadow goes undisturbed for signs of the enemy. Every shelter — from a boarded-up chapel on the wayside to a sprawling manor house such as this — has been deemed safe only after proceeding with the utmost caution.

“Even someone as brazen as Vlad would not dare risk his own life by doing anything else.”

Nadya swears she can hear Jax’s teeth grind in his set jaw. That may be the gravel under the tires though.

The limo starts to slow down as they pass through a break in the hedges to reveal a wide arcing roundabout that stops just shy of the castle’s imposing front doors.

“So what you’re saying is if this goes to shit tonight there’s really no escape plan, huh?” Jax finally asks, and with a much softer voice than either Serafine or Nadya would have expected.

It makes the vampiress throw him a sympathetic look. One he pointedly ignores, but when has that ever stopped her before?

“Have you such little faith in my charming disposition?”

It’s a meager attempt to lighten the somber mood at best, but it’s enough to at least ease his suddenly white-knuckled grip on the sheath of his katana.

“More like a lack of faith in your judgment.”

“Inspired by?”

“Whatever the hell you see in Raines.”

It’s as though the driver has been taking his sweet time waiting for a break in their tension to finally get there. Which can’t possibly be the case; since the partition has been up from the moment they pulled away from the hotel and the ones they left behind… can it?

He cuts the engine abruptly. Something about the reigning silence makes Nadya’s heart start to inch its way up into her throat. Jax, sitting closest to her and no doubt hearing the spike in her pulse, reaches out and squeezes her shoulder.

“You okay there?”

She gives a noncommittal shrug, glad when he doesn’t drop his hand. “Situationally or existentially?” The joke, unfortunately, doesn’t quite land.

“At least this one is above ground.” He tries to reassure her. But apparently neither of them are allowed the luxury.

“The parts you can see…” Serafine says; her last words before the door opens to signal their arrival.

The night air is cold and makes Nadya’s eyes water as she steps out between her companions. She would have rather had Kamilah or Adrian at her side but that just wasn’t possible.

Serafine had made a point that couldn’t be denied. Between Kamilah’s assumed death and Gaius’ known ability to hold a grudge longer than most modern civilizations had been around, those two were pretty much screwed if anyone just so happened to recognize them. With Antony and Isseya off the radar since Kamilah’s return and none of them having any hint or clue as to whether or not Gaius had started extending his reach overseas yet, they were better off housebound (metaphorically speaking) for the time being.

As it is they’re risking enough bringing Jax along, but apparently the fact he hadn’t made “much of an impression” on Gaius, to put it in Kamilah’s own words, was to their benefit. They were playing safe over sorry with Lily and her newly-acquired quirks too.

It was easy to write off the fact that Serafine hadn’t even allowed Cadence to volunteer before shooting him down as being, well, Serafine and Cadence being Serafine and Cadence. But there’s still a lot they don’t know about whatever had happened to their friends when the group split up — whatever it was though was enough to ease that tension in ways nobody would have expected.

“The intention is to meet with Vlad as quickly as possible, and ideally without arousing suspicion from him or any who might be in his entourage.” Serafine had explained. “Seeing as Cynbel of the Trinity has been famously dead for over a century now, seeing him suddenly reappear in the midst of Gaius’ ascension might as well be the definition of suspicious.”

The argument was fair and valid and lucky for them to have that kind of forethought, honestly. But when Nadya thinks back to the vague air of their talk back at Ahmanet in London and pairs it almost absentmindedly with the way Serafine and Kamilah exchanged a long and almost nervous glance at one another when Cadence’s back is turned…

Let’s just say at this point she’s just waiting around for the other shoe to drop. Or the other-other shoe. Like the kind of shoe an octopus might wear or something.

All of that and only Nadya is left; always the odd one out. But the Bloodkeeper can’t not do this, so what choice does she have?

They just have to hope Kamilah was right when she assumed Gaius would want to do everything in his power not to let Nadya’s name and face spread too far or wide. That he wouldn’t dare run the risk of someone else getting to her before he could.

Neither option appeals, for the record. But at least she’s not the only one risking her neck.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #bloodbound #jax matsuo #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #serafine dupont #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: bound by destiny ii

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an-intronerd · 4 years

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thoughts on jaskier (+ geraskier) post episode 6: rare species

this was honestly supposed to be a teeny little rant but like, my hands grew minds of their own.

...

ok, so like, i recently binged the witcher (and i’m one of those people who has not yet read the books and never played the games, so going in, i had no idea who these characters were or what their dynamics in the other medias were like or anything) and next thing you know, i’m drowining in the geraskier fandom.

as one does, i’ve seen a lot of geraskier content, including fics and the like, and one idea that’s always there is that jaskier is this heartbroken, sullen, pining thing after the Big Fight. like, 98% of what i’ve seen or read has sad!jaskier. and like, the general plot is always like

jaskier is sad that geralt yelled mean things at him.

jaskier sings heartbroken love songs.

jaskier runs into geralt/geralt finds jaskier/somehow these two meet again.

geralt is a dick/geralt feels bad but is emotionally constipated so he doesn’t know how to use words to apologize/geralt saves jaskier’s life.

geralt and jaskier make up because jaskier knows how to read his witcher’s emotions and forgives him. optional: they bang.

the end.

and its like, people aren’t perfect?? i think that’s a little unrealistic. and yes, fanfiction can be like that sometimes, because it’s what we want to happen. but like, imagine this:

jaskier going through the 5 stages.

jaskier goes down the mountain, leaving geralt behind. what else can he possibly do?

jaskier spends a few nights wasted and crying because hey, guess what, the love of his life for the better part of two decades is a gaint wart-covered dick. he’s sad about it, sue him.

jaskier decides fuck this, his witcher is a piece of shit and though he is by no means the best person on the planet, he is at least good enough to deserve better than what geralt gave him. or well, was incapable of giving him.

jaskier decides he will move on, and it’ll start with him getting out of this mountainside village and heading to one of the first places where he truly found himself, oxenfurt. afterall, music has been and will always be the one constant and greatest pleasure in his life.

it takes time, but jaskier perseveres. he gets over his denial pretty quickly. he will not believe geralt didn’t care for him at all. he knows that’s an insult to both of them. geralt cared in his own way. thats the truth. unfortunately, the other, much harsher truth is that it wasn’t enough. so, no geralt won’t be coming for him, and jaskier won't be waiting around.

anger is a bit harder to get over. once it truly sets in, it’s all jaskier can do not to hunt down that fucking white wolf and tear him a new one. jaskier is a person, he is a human with feelings, and that damned witcher had no right to treat him like the scum at the bottom of his shoe. if it wasn’t for jasker, geralt would still be run out of every other town he came across, stoned and bloody. he’d probably have died in a puddle of his own blood fifty times over by now, considering all the times jaskier had to patch him up. that ungrateful prick. except, once he’s exhausted three supllies of parchment and written enough songs about the bitcher, (yes not his most creative insult but he’s too petty to care!) he knows none of that is remotely true. and he wants closure.

and that’s when bargaining hits him full force. all of a sudden, he just needs to see geralt one more time. once more great adventure and a song to go with it, one more meal shared, one more conversation, to see if geralt really ever cared. he needs to ask him, and have geralt verbally confirm or deny his doubts. he needs this, just once. one more time, he needs to see his witcher, and it’ll be enough. one more time. just once. he almost fails himself, on one lonely night. he knows he can’t, he doesn’t even know where he’d start looking but he’s drunk beyond the point where common sense dictates his actions, and he’s packed half his belongings... and he’s getting ready... to track down the white... wolf... he wakes up with a bitch of a hangover the next day, but he didn’t go after geralt. he knows deep down once will never be enough.

anger was tough, but depression was worse. it came for him like a siren in all her glory, drawing him in and in and in until he’s drowing and he didn’t even realise when that happened and then it’s too much, it’s too painful... he isn’t really surprised. he thrives on emotion, the good and the bad, it’s how he writes such brilliant ballads, he admits he hadn’t really delved into his own feelings about geralt yet. he hadn’t dealt with all the heartbreak follwing the mountain, and maybe he should have done so earlier, but he doesn’t think it matters. his heart wasn’t going to hurt any less months earlier when the wounds were still fresh. and though they may have closed up over time, the phantom pain is always with him. there are days where all he can do is curl up under his blankets and sob. some days he goes without eating a single morsel, finds himself lightheaded from dehydration, not leaving his bed for anything more than to relieve himself. some days, he flips through old songbooks, filled with twenty-odd years of adventure, both the fun and the dangerous kind, and laughter and frustration, companionship and solidarity... what was it he used to say? death and destiny, heroics and heartbreak. words of a lifetime past. some days, he compartmentalizes and sets all that aside in a little box in his mind and goes about his day as if he isn’t weighed down by the constant weight of his loss. it’s almost too much, but he’ll manage, he tells himself. he doesn’t let himself think of what he would do if he can’t.

it’s a cloudless day outside, and he’s in the market for new writing materials, and he’s going over next week’s lesson plan in his head, when he’s hit with the sudden realization that he hasn’t thought about geralt in a while. he’s thinking of him now, sure, but that doesn’t count because he’s thinking of how he’s not thinking of him, it’s a totally different thing, and oh- it doesn’t ache as much as it used to. he feels lighter than he has in a while, and he doesn’t know how that happened, or when, but he’s... okay.

that’s the thing about healing, it happens whether you realise it or not, you just have to give ypurself a chance. it’s pontless to hold on to the negative feelings because you’re trying to hold on to something or someone that isn’t there anymore or maybe never really was. he didn’t know when it happened, but. the bitterness that accompanied the memories of geralt’s last words is no longer there. neither is the anger. there’s a dull sadness, but mostly it’s resignation and a sort of comfortable if lonely acceptance that geralt is gone. but there’s also a bittersweet understanding that jaskier will always love him. the history they shared isn’t erased because of a few angry words. jaskier will have, if nothing else, a lifetime full of moments and memories. if he sees geralt again, it will no longer be with a vision clouded in pain or anger or sadness, but rather a deep-seated love and forgiveness. he will let geralt decide now what they will be to each other. but he will not accept anything less than what he is worth. he will not be geralt’s punching bag. if geralt wants to have a relationship with him again, it will be one of equals, the bard and the witcher. if he wants to go their seperate ways, well, jaskier will live content like that too.

he’s moved on.

sometimes, moving on doesn’t mean finding someone else. sometimes, it means mending your own heart, piece by broken piece, and then tucking it away safely inside, giving it a chance to heal. it’s about making that very difficult choice to let go of the bad that you’re holding on to, because it’s a way of holding on to the person you lost. it’s about finding yourself again, and who you were before the pain and heartbreak, and, figuring out who you want to be now. i need more of that, because that’s real. that’s how i imigine jaskier would feel. he’s not perfect, and he has his ups and downs as all of us do, and he is angry at geralt and sad and broken but also he’ll pick himself up, because he was someone before geralt, too, and he’ll still be someone after geralt, not just the witcher’s bard. he doesn’t know who that is yet, but he’ll figure it out.

and because i’m at my core a geraskier + happy endings hoe:

geralt realises an important thing on that mountaintop. he has been running from destiny and anything real all his life. he needs to get his head out of his ass, and find ciri. clearly, he was destined to lose yen, and that’s happened, no matter how hard he tried to make it different. she’s destined to be his and he accepts that now, but everything else is up to him.

he finds ciri, and then, he’s a father. he vows to be a better parent than the one he had.

he finds yen, and they learn to be enough for each other without turning it into something more than a vague frienship. somewhere between a truce and a partnership. for ciri, they agree.

he returns to kaer morhen, to his family with his daughter and his yennefer in tow.

he realises that he has everything he could ever want, and more than any witcher ever gets, but there’s still something missing.

then he realises it’s his bard, the one person who wasn’t unwillingly tied to him because of some wish or destiny, someone who chose him every single time, and who he misses with such a fierce ache.

then he remebers how badly he fucked that up, and then yen tells him he’s a wart-covered, emotionally constipated dick, and dumb too, but hey thank god you finally got your head out of your ass long enough to realise that you miss your bard and you’re sorry for what you did and you love him, and geralt just goes what? yen, love? oh- okay so that’s what the constant turning of his stomach and insomnia is.

then he sets out to find his bard, and ciri asks if she’ll finally get to hear all those famous songs about geralt from the source, and he says he hopes so.

it doesn’t take him long to find his bard, now a professor at oxenfurt academy, and geralt thinks that makes perfect sense because where else would jaskier have gone but to one of the few bright bits of his youth?

he gets to oxenfurt and it’s a cloudless day, and there’s people millig about and he thinks he’ll head to an inn and give roach a well-deserved rest, and then his heart stops. because there is jaskier, exchanging coin for parchment, and he looks just as he did a year and a half ago, except less disappointed and more happy and his heart hasn’t beaten this fast since he was a child left on vesemir’s doorstep. he thinks of all the nights he’s been unable to sleep because he had gotten so used to the bard’s humming and how it had been the most soothing wordless lullaby. he thinks of his last words, and he feels his breath leave him, because jaskier had taken it to heart, and left him. he’d given geralt his one blessing, and geralt thinks that those words are something he will regret for as long as he is living. he gives himself a moment to wonder if perhaps he should leave jaskier to the life he’s created for himself, be unselfish for once and let jaskier remain happy and safe and free.

he should leave, though he knows that jaskier deserves so much more from him, an apology to start, and then a real friendsip, one tat goes both ways, and wow, geralt really is a wart-covered dick because he had treated jaskier so unfairly and he doesn’t undertsand why jaskier kept coming back to him, again and again. destiny hadn’t entwined their paths. jaskier chose to entangle them anyways. and he deserves so much more than geralt of rivia, and he should let jaskier have that, he should...

but he couldn’t walk away now, not when jaskier, his bard, his life-long friend, is standing right there, and jaskier turns, collecting his items and geralt stops breathing because jaskier looks over, and geralt watched the recognition flit over the bard’s face as he sees roach and then up, up, up, his eyes trace geralt’s form until.

their eyes meet, and jaskier smiles.

tl;dr: i just want more realistic portrayls of jaskier’s emotions after the Big Fight in episode 6, and i want to see jaskier go through all the feelings, and more depth to him that just some pining, heartbroken lump of a person. he’s more nuanced than that, i think.

p.s: a big part of this ended up being based on my own experineces with love and friendship, pain and hertbreak, and the process of moving forward despite it all. idk how much of that comes through, and i hadn’t really planned for this post to go in the direction that it did, but i like how it turned out. i’m still trying to figure out that tricky little thing about making the choice to let go, and writing this helped?

p.p.s: this ended up way, way, wayyyyy longer than i intended, oops? why do i do this lol

p.p.p.s: if fics like this actually exist, please feel free to tag me in them or send me links, i would adore you forever!

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #oh also #personal #lol why am i like this #the witcher #works and writings and other such musings

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ratonnhhaketon · 4 years

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See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 2)

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Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, mentions of death (briefly)

Chapter 2 - Three Of A Kind

Blackwater was vastly different than any city Catherine had ever visited. It was dry, most of the streets were dirt, and it always smelled a little bit like horse shit. But, it was her new home and she learned to get used to it quickly

Her first mission upon arriving in the new city was to find temporary housing. Ultimately, she would like to find an apartment to solidify her new life, but for now she chose to rent a hotel room. After walking through the streets she found a hotel across the street from the saloon and decided to spend the night there. She booked a room for the next week and headed straight up.

The room was small but would satisfy her needs. It had a bed with nightstands on either side, a dresser, and a fireplace that seemed to have been snuffed out recently. She put her luggage down by the dresser and sat down on the bed. The mattress wasn’t the softest thing she’d ever slept on, but it would have to do.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. This was the first time she was truly able to think about the past few days, seeing as she was asleep for most of the train ride the previous night, and all of the emotions she refused to let surface finally broke through.

She cried, not caring how loud she was or who would hear her. Reid, her baby brother and the closest friend she ever had, was gone. He was gone and she didn’t even stay for the burial. On the one hand, she hated herself for not giving him the final goodbye he deserved, but she also knew that she would not have lasted being in Calvin’s presence one more time.

Calvin. That absolute bastard was the reason all of this had to happen. She was disgusted at not only the fact that he killed her brother and was planning to kill his own father, but the fact that he so perfectly hid that side of himself. Who knows how long he was sitting on the decision to take another person’s life?

Her thoughts then drifted to her parents. She felt guilty for not telling them anything that was going on. About Calvin mistreating her, the true reason behind her brother’s death, or even explaining why she needed to leave her old life behind. Catherine hoped, only for a moment, that they would track her down and write to them. But then she realized that if they found her, it was almost impossible for him not to track her down as well. And she did not even want to think about what he would do to her for running from their marriage.

After calming herself down enough, Catherine wiped her eyes on her sleeves and stood up. She would not dwell on the past any longer. This was the start of her new life and she was going to begin it now.

She picked up her suitcase and put it on the bed, throwing the top open in the process. Inside were various dresses, chemises, boots, and jewelry. She shuffled some clothes around before finding the one pair of pants she owned: simple, black pants that she bought so she didn’t have to ride sidesaddle on her stallion back home. Seeing as she would need to buy a horse from the local stables to get around, she was very thankful that she remembered to grab the garment before leaving.

Catherine undid the buttons on her skirt and let it fall to the floor before wiggling into her pants. After fastening the button and making sure everything was smooth, she grabbed her pair of black riding boots and slipped them on as well.

Her first order of business was to head to the saloon and ask around for some work.

She made her way down to the street outside and crossed the road to her destination. It was just around noon so not too many people would be drinking just yet.

Catherine walked up to the bar and greeted the man behind the counter. He gave her a polite smile and greeting while drying shot glasses. “Do you happen to know where I could pick up some extra money? Like odd jobs and such?”

He placed the glass he was cleaning down on the counter. “The sheriff is always looking for help on bounty missions and if you’re skilled with a bow the butcher always appreciates a good deer or elk.”

Catherine tapped her fingers on the counter as she thought. Neither of those sounded particularly fun, but she would need a way to live if she was going to stay down here. She looked around the bar for a moment and spotted a poker table near the window. Perfect. She knew the ins and outs of the game like the back of her hand, learning early on in life how to play from her father. This was her ticket to success.

After ordering a whiskey and thanking the bartender for his help, she walked over to the men at the table and smiled. “Afternoon, gentlemen. Mind if I join?”

The men around the table gladly accepted and dealt her into the game as she sat down. Everyone introduced themselves as they placed their bets. She learned that the two men sitting on either sides of her were Thomas and Alvin, and the man across from her dealing was Jackson.

“So,” Thomas, the tall, buff man sitting to her right, spoke up. “What’s a pretty little woman like yourself doing out here all alone?” Catherine’s stomach turned at the term he used for her.

“Just trying to enjoy my afternoon and make some money in the process.” She picked up her cards and resisted the urge to smile. A pair of aces. This was gonna be easy.

The group played a few games, Catherine winning all but one of them, before the men were visibly disgruntled over not having won anything. Knowing that being $30 richer was a very good start, she decided it was time to leave. She bid the gentlemen goodnight before getting up and walking out of the tavern.

As she walked back to her hotel she felt someone following her. She ignored it at first, but when she noticed the sound of footsteps behind her she cautiously turned over her shoulder.

She saw Thomas about ten feet away and he did not look happy. She kept walking, faster this time, until he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. He yanked her arm back, causing her to spin around and almost fall into him. “GET OFF OF ME!” She yelled, hoping a lawman would be near to help her.

His grip became tighter as she struggled in his grasp. “I don’t know what game you thought you was playing, but we don’t ’preciate cheatin’ in this town.” His voice was low in almost a growl, and his eyes were hidden from the shadow of his hat.

She winced at the pain in her wrist. “I-I can give you back your money! Just fucking let go of me!”

He released her and she fell backwards onto the stone sidewalk. “Keep the damn money. But if I see you playin’ my game again, it won’t end pretty.”

Catherine watched as he walked back off in the direction of the saloon. She sat on the ground for a minute, shaken up and trying to steady her breathing, before getting up and practically running back to the hotel. ~~~~~

The next morning Catherine headed down to the tailor with one of the expensive dresses she had in her suitcase. The man working was ecstatic to see the garment, immediately knowing it was from a well-regarded dressmaker in Virginia, and offered her $150 for it. The actual garment was worth over $250, but she couldn’t complain.

She decided it would be a good idea to buy a horse and some weapons just to be safe. After the incident last night she knew she would need a way to defend herself.

The gunsmith recommended a simple pistol and hunting knife, as well as the appropriate belt and holsters. At first she was contemplating not buying ammunition for the gun, seeing as taking another person’s life was the last thing she wanted to do, but she decided it was a good decision to get at least one box.

Admittedly, she did feel safer knowing she had a way of self defense, especially after the man working showed her how to use it when she sheepishly admitted she had never owned one. But there was also a part of her that was terrified of the possibility of having to use it. She could never see herself as a killer, especially after knowing Calvin did it so casually and treated it almost as if he enjoyed it.

She tried to shake the thoughts from her mind as she walked into the general store in search of supplies for her horse. Her mind was still racing as she entered the shop, and she almost didn’t notice the man walking out and directly towards her.

She stopped when she was about a foot away from him, looking up to meet his blue shirt and black neckerchief. The man, standing about half a foot taller than her, looked down at her and smiled behind his worn leather hat. “S’cuse me, miss,” his gruff voice said as he moved past her and out the door.

Catherine stood in place for a moment, shocked by the man that just passed her. She hoped, just a little, that he would turn back around into the store so she could see him again. Continuing up to the counter, she pushed the thought out of her mind and focused on buying what she was here for.

~~~~~

After her shopping trip Catherine decided she needed to find another way to make money besides poker until the situation with Thomas calmed down a bit. She thought over her options and decided that bounties were off the table. The possibility of dying or having to kill another person definitely did not seem appealing, so she decided to try her hand at hunting.

Killing an animal was something people outside of cities did all the time to live, so how hard could it be?

It was much, much harder than she expected, both physically and emotionally. Seeing as she didn’t have a bow, she had to try to kill with her hunting knife. This meant small game was the only logical choice and their tiny bodies moved a lot faster than expected.

But she did happen to get lucky with two rabbits that she managed to catch off guard. After turning around a tree trunk as fast as possible, Catherine seized the small animal by the feet and held it to the ground. With a shaky hand she lined up the knife with the animal’s neck. Her head immediately turned to the side and her eyes clamped shut as the blade went straight through skin and muscle. A small, final squeak escaped the animal as it’s life was stripped from it in one swift motion.

Catherine lifted the blade out of the animal and opened her eyes, regret and sorrow bubbling up inside her as she looked at the tiny carcass beneath her hand.

“I.. am so sorry,” she said in a whisper. She knew that the kill was not in vain and that the butcher would use every part of its body, but it still felt wrong to take the life of another being, even if it was just a small animal.

After taking a second to breathe and collect herself, Catherine stood up and took the animal back to her horse. She secured it tightly to the side of the saddle and tried for another.

The next hour was slow and aggravating, but the second kill came easier. Granted, killing was still not something she wanted to do, but she was more okay with it.

Having secured the second rabbit and mounting her Tennessee Walker, Catherine rode back into town and straight to butcher. The $7 she got as payment was certainly not bad, but she wished she was able to go after bigger animals to get more money back.

Nightfall was starting to approach while she left her horse at the stables for the night. As she started heading back towards the hotel, she spotted a group of three men walking into the saloon. Normally she wouldn’t care about men going to get drunk, but the man she saw from the general store earlier that day was one of them.

Catherine waited until they entered the building to cross the street and follow them in. Upon entering, she made a beeline straight for the bar to order a drink. The bartender slid her a bottle of whiskey and she popped the cork before doing a scan over the crowd. The room was more packed than the previous night, but she found her target with ease.

The man in the blue shirt was sitting at the poker table with two other men, one of them looking dirty and greasy. The other, however, was a stark contrast. He looked groomed and held himself at a very high self esteem, no doubt the leader of their group. And those rings. Bright gold stood out on almost all of his fingers, shimmering in the dim light of the saloon. This had to be her big break. If she did it last night with a bunch of drunks, it couldn’t be too difficult to do it again.

She fixed her hair, running her hands through the auburn locks to get rid of any tangles, before sauntering over to the group. The three men were engaged in conversation, the ringleader letting out a hearty chuckle at something one of the others said. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said with a smile. “Can I interest all of you in a game?” She gestured down to the deck of cards sitting on the table.

The man in the blue shirt sat up and looked to the man sitting to his right. The dark-haired man shared a glance with him before turning back to Catherine. “Alright, why not?” He smiled and passed the deck to the man sitting on his right. “John, you deal first.”

She sat down in the chair between the man in the blue shirt and who she now knew as John and gathered her chips to buy-in.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” the man sitting across from her spoke up as he looked at his cards. He tried to hide a sly smirk as she looked at them, but Catherine was able to notice it.

“Cathrine Hays,” she said with a smile, throwing in a few chips for her bet.

“Well, Miss Hays, it is a pleasure.” He gestured to himself, “I’m Dutch van der Linde and this is Arthur and John.” The two men sitting to her sides nodded when their names were announced.

Despite going easy on them for a couple games, Arthur was the first to drop out. He decided he’d rather “sit back and watch” rather than play, so Dutch slid him some money to get the table a round of drinks. When he returned he handed Catherine another bottle of whiskey. Their hands brushed for just a moment as she accepted the beverage, her face immediately heating up at the contact.

As they played, Catherine played to her strong suits. She was able to go three games without losing, and John had finally swallowed his pride and given up. Dutch, however, was not giving up so easily. He was determined to win no matter what.

“Tell you what, Mr. Van der Linde,” Catherine smiled. “We play one more game. If you win, I’ll give you my silver pocket watch. If I win, I get one of those rings.”

She heard Arthur chuckle and John let out a low whistle beside her. Dutch’s eyes narrowed and he passed the deck to her. “That sounds like a deal.”

Before they even had time to place their first bets down, the door to the saloon swung open. Thomas, the man from the night before, stomped in and made a beeline to Catherine. She felt her heart speed up with every step he took towards her.

He stopped inches from her and pulled her up by the collar to his face. “What did I tell ya ‘bout playin’ MY GAME?!” His voice roared. He reeked of alcohol and sweat. Her hands immediately went to his wrist and tried to pry it off of her shirt.

The men sitting at the table instantly stood up to defend her. “Okay, sir, why don’tcha jus’ put the lady down and we talk this over like civilized folk?” Arthur’s voice was calm as his hand slowly reached for his pistol.

Before Thomas had a chance to reply, Catherine swung her right hand as far back as possible and punched him straight in the throat. He immediately dropped her before stumbling back and struggling to breathe. She fell to the floor behind her and John bent down to help her back to her feet.

Before the assailant was able to regain his composure, Catherine grabbed his hand and bent the wrist backwards as far back as it would go without breaking. “Don’t you EVER think about laying another finger on me,” she said through gritted teeth. “If I ever see you anywhere near this establishment, I will not hesitate to break every bone in your body. Got it?”

He nodded rapidly and gripped the hand she had pinned until she let go. Without missing a beat, he immediately ran out the door and down the street, vanishing into the night.

At this point everyone in the saloon was watching, some backing away from Catherine in fear. She turned back to the poker table, seeing Dutch, Arthur and John visibly shocked and impressed at her display. After looking between the men for a split second, she dug around in her pocket before slamming a dollar on the table. “Here, for the drinks,” she said quickly and walked out the door.

The group of men looked at each other for a few seconds before Dutch headed out of the building, the two others following closely behind. They found Catherine a few buildings down the street leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

“Miss Hays,” a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her head shot up, breaths coming in and out quickly and her eyes wide with fear. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. And what was all that about?” Dutch’s voice was soft and calming.

She swallowed the lump in her throat before speaking up. “I-I’m fine. That.. His name is Thomas and he’s a bastard. I joined him and his friends last night for a game because I needed the money and he wasn’t all that happy that I was winning. He followed me back to the hotel I’ve been staying at and threatened me.” She felt her eyes glaze over as she remembered the previous night.

“Did he hurt you?” Arthur spoke up with a sympathetic tone.

She shook her head. “No.. no, not any worse than he did just now.”

Dutch spoke up again. “You said you’re stayin’ in a hotel, can I ask why?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “I had to leave my previous home. It's not safe for me to stay there, so I went as far south as I could and it led me here.”

He put a soft hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze. “If you’re in need of a home, we can help you. We’ve got our own family of people that need help and protection.” He could sense hesitation without her even speaking up. “We’ll keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen to you again.”

Catherine looked into his eyes and saw nothing but genuine kindness, something she hadn’t seen a lot of since leaving home. She smiled weakly. “Thank you, Mr. Van der Linde.”

“Call me Dutch.”

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coatlook9-blog · 4 years

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Provide cheerful MC tochucsukienhcm

Significant Obligations of a Wedding Planner Like I claimed, according to the traditions that every culture satisfies as portion of their marriage ceremony, it really is vital to first talk to the pair and fully grasp what's concerned, or only provide your products and services to specific cultures. It may be an exhausting job to be aware of all cultures and be an All round wedding planner, so catering to precise forms would seem great. For those who needless to say wish to include a myriad of weddings, then previous expertise As well as in-depth investigation is needed. Let's Check out what you should do from begin to finish. Just take Notes and Spend money on a Recorder Fulfill Using the pair in person and have them lay out all details and intricacies that you need to know, over the desk. Produce a Observe of significant points they say, and hold a recorder handy to be sure to get everything. When taking notes spotlight points like what Element of the wedding needs to be investigated on extensively. Non-Christian weddings might have a very distinctive method of marriage ceremony ceremonies and the times that lead up to the primary day. Will not be scared to inquire inquiries simply because as a marriage planner that you are entitled to. Preparing the Funds The most important Component of your entire affair, is definitely the budget. After every little thing is mentioned and finalized, Discover how A lot the pair is prepared to expend to ensure you know how to deal with their expenses with out heading overboard. Like that It could be easier to know which flower retailers have affordable flowers, which halls for that receptions would healthy their budget requirements, and if It will be much better to choose a catering organization or which has a lodge that gives catering in the event you ebook their corridor. Stick to the spending budget and split it down so that you know the way Substantially you have to shell out on what. Should you imagine that the budget is too a lot less and needs to be a tad bigger, You should not wait to recommend anything for the few that wouldn't overshoot their spending budget to a terrific extent. Guantee that you mention as component within your companies, that you need to be contacted at the least six months ahead of the large working day, due to the fact scheduling matters beforehand is economically wiser than scheduling closer to your wedding day. Put simply, the later on you ebook for reception halls / open Areas and various things which have to be arranged, the more expensive it results in being. Employing an Assistant You can not potentially be in two areas concurrently, that is certainly why it is vital to possess a aiding hand when arranging a marriage. An assistant is usually supplied Positions like exploring on resorts, reception halls and open-air venues to find anything idyllic with the few, such as flower stores, decoration-giving corporations, catering businesses, marriage ceremony cake designers, marriage ceremony gown retailers, (When the bride requires support to locate a destination to purchase her costume) and so forth. After you've assigned him/her these Work you could then both of those check out distinct venues independently and Examine every one determined by the couple's criteria, following evaluating notes. Take the bride a lengthy along with you anywhere vital options should be created like her topic hues for the reception, the bridesmaids attire, the groomsmen suits, the marriage ceremony cake layout, the flowers she'd like on Exhibit and so forth. Sending Out the Wedding Invitations Give the pair an opportunity to pick out what their wedding Invites need to look like by providing them with varied solutions which they can browse as a result of prior to making a final conclusion. The playing cards ought to be sent out four-5 months prior to the wedding ceremony day, so that invitees have a chance to RSVP and naturally program their departure Otherwise in the identical nation/state, to really make it for that marriage ceremony. Booking the Leisure

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The bride's costume must be flawless at least two months ahead of the wedding, to make sure that any modifications that need to be completed could be dealt with in just this time hole. Seamstresses or retailers that sell marriage dresses will need advance bookings, so Be certain that This is certainly the very first thing in your record submit booking the venue for your wedding day. Tasting of the Meals Invite the pair to the places that you will be flavor testing at. They should be satisfied with the buffet even if it means trying a huge amount of dishes. Have the screening classes unfold above the program of a week or perhaps a few days right before they make up their minds on which caterer satisfies their preferences best. Also make sure to ask the few if any foods are kosher as part of their lifestyle/religion, so that you tend not to generate a mistake when having them to check out food. Ultimate Day Preparations Within the wedding working day you'll need to inspect every little thing right from if the venue is arranged perfectly exactly where the vows will exchanged, towards the transportation that may carry both functions to your location. You'll need to make an visual appeal with the bride's and groom's sites respectively to see when there is everything that they require on the last minute. It will take time and tolerance to strategy a wedding, but any time you see the fruits of your labor choose kind, It's really a sight for sore eyes. Trying to keep the above mentioned tips in mind, you'll need no difficulties in coordinating the main points that should be overseen as A part of the wedding ceremony. Study more details on Wedding day Invitations I Nearly did not write-up this site, mainly because I thought 'demon' was these a robust phrase and for me has some damaging overtones. But then I went for the dictionary to check out how it's described. Miriam Webster states it's "a resource or agent of evil, hurt, distress, or destroy." By that definition, I thought Sure, We've got all experienced some kind of harm, distress, or destroy which includes or even now is holding us back. I used to be at a workshop this previous weekend and I achieved Randy Fortes that is a facilitator, coach, mentor and the guts and soul of which happens to be a nonprofit that supports school communities by delivering interactive plans and resources that train college students powerful daily life skills. Randy was grasp of ceremonies with the party and was provided the opportunity to rap among his poems. What follows may be the 1 he chosen. It felt extremely effective to many us. I talk to you to definitely shut the entire world down and get a few minutes to obtain to the rhythm of this poem and imagine your own private demons when you read it. Releasing Demons by Randy Fortes "I believed I'd it on lock, till I dropped The crucial element. Only seeing a battle to obtain these demons off of me. And however I released it I am still never ever at peace with myself. Involved for everyone else, when I actually need the assistance. I keep it to myself to cheat myself, conquer and defeat myself. Acquiring an absence of belief, and at any time given that disaster struck these demons are soon after us hiding from the baggage we attach to us. So While using the previous rapidly catching up I hope I am rapidly plenty of to flee my own destiny and Allow it go me up. Although I seize the cup and find out it as my fault It really is half empty, and slide sufferer to making Yet another sad ending. Acquiring away with pretending to get away. To Dwell the day with that bitter style created throughout my face. So get in my way and you could get scolded 'induce I can not seem to Handle it let alone maintain it alongside one another. I have owned it permanently but in no way claimed it. In way in excess of my head but to ashamed to quit. I blame it on what I've dismissed, how I am unable to afford to obtain sidetracked, nevertheless I preserve ending up at the same place I arrived at. So I climb again into that hole I the moment named a soul until finally that chip on my shoulder gets to be a boulder as well weighty for me to carry... there I go once more. Normally wanting to hold. When all that does is hold me back again. What if I Allow go? What do I need to let go of? It's possible that's why I often arrive at that cease. Never ever obtaining The crucial element, attempting to keep it on lock. Is all of it just discuss? Induce I might rather be dreaming. Perhaps This really is how I make peace with myself by releasing these demons." I've been pondering these terms particularly "Generally attempting to maintain. When all that does is keep me back again." Imagine if I let go? What do I must Allow go of?" I inquire you: Let's say you Allow go? What do https://tochucsukienhcm.vn/cung-cap-cho-thue-mc-dan-chuong-trinh should Permit go of?

#Master of Ceremonies

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twofifthsofmaria · 5 years

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What They Don’t Tell You About the Future

summary: In a society where everyone has a predetermined role, people who don't fit into a category are considered Glitches. They can be fixed, of course, but after one fateful night Alabaster Craine realises that maybe he doesn't need to change himself; he just needs to find a place to fit in.

Dedication: While reading up on the infinite amount of fiction nowadays, and even old fiction, I realised something quite sad. In science fiction, all kinds of fiction really, there is a trend in which the men in the books have precisely three types of personality. They are either the stoic asshat (also known as the "Bad Boy"), the manipulative villain, or the goody two shoes.

That's it. There are no more personality types for boys.

Where are my soft boys? Where are my nerdy boys? My cute boys? Boys with weird interests and varying personalities? Why is it that there is this image on the media in which the only acceptable hero is the stoic man with a dark background?

I realised that there are also thousands of young women out there (like me!) writing fiction and representing us in the media with their head held high and ready to put up a fight in our name. And for them, I am very, very, grateful. However, I also feel that if we, as authors, want to change the representation of women in the media, we also have an obligation to revise the portrayal of men.

We owe it to the little boys with dreams of being a princess or a clothing designer. Who have been told that they can't dance ballet because they are boys, and who always have to put up with all the shit that the world throws at them through the media. Because, yeah Batman is cool, but we are forcing them to look at pieces of media with toxic masculinity and bland personalities, then trying to justify that character by giving them a dark past.

Our boys deserve better. Our boys deserve kind and caring heroes who are not afraid to back down from a fight because they have to take a break. Our boys deserve human beings as role models, who show them that crying is alright and that they don't have to take thirteen bullets and keep fighting to be a man. Our boys deserve characters that show them they don't have to hide and change to fit into a role in society.

So yes, my book doesn't have girls as the main characters. That is what my sisters are taking care off. For now, I'm giving you lot another type of underrepresented heroes. The boys who don't need to be macho men to win a war.

This goes for all of you, I hope you see yourself in these pages.

—Love, Maria.

Chapter I

Alabaster Craine always found that on the days were the world seemed to be caving in on him, his sister was the best way to get rid of all his worries. All it took was for him to haul her dainty form onto the roof of their house, place a guitar on her lap, and listen to her fingers strum out the chords of her latest composition for his mind to be completely at peace.

He didn’t need a long and luxurious bath like his mother did. Or a session at the gymnasium hitting a punching bag like his brother before him. He just needed his sister, her soft features, and her long and skilled fingers. On several occasions he joined her, when the mood was right and when he knew that there was no one around to make him sing if he didn’t wish to sing. But he tried to, knowing that Claire was always delighted seconds after he finished. Talking excitedly about how his voice was probably the loveliest voice in town. How his Gift was probably singing.

He tried to agree with her as much as he could, not trying to get on her bad side knowing that once the fight started she wouldn’t back down until he accepted his defeat. Which knowing him, and knowing her, was going to take a long time. He didn’t want to receive the silent treatment from his Angel, so he settled for agreeing with her instead.

But that night, as all stories usually start, was different than the others. He sat close to Claire, tracing patterns on her tight and hoping she wouldn’t get annoyed at the subconscious action, and listened to her play and sing. The city beyond them glittered like a thousand diamonds, the wind bringing in the sweet scent of the carnival that roared through the streets, and the weight bound to settle on Al’s chest.

People all over the city were rejoicing. He could see them. He could hear them. The tension and anticipation in the atmosphere was strong enough to make the hair’s on his arms stand up. Yet the feeling that filled him was not one of joy, but rather he felt like dread was weighing him down.

The strings on his sister’s guitar faltered just as a loud cheer came from the street behind them, and she gave a long sigh, “Okay, I’m done. What’s up with you?”

Al avoided looking at her, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah,” she grumbled, “and I’m a terrible guitar player. Come on, Al. I know something is wrong with you.”

“Very humble of you to acknowledge you are crap at playing guitar.”

“Thank you, Allie,” she replied, as she placed the guitar behind her back, “Now spill. What’s got your panties in a twist? Are you scared about tomorrow?”

When Al decided not to answer, more out of self preservation than out of not actually knowing what to say, Claire turned her body to face him.

“Are you scared they’re going to tell you you are going to be an accountant?”

The comment made him look at his sister with a frown on his face, “What? Why would I be scared of that?”

She shrugged, “You’re often scared of silly things, Allie. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

He rolled his eyes, placing his elbows over his knees and resting his head on the palms of his hands. For a few seconds he watched as the city rejoiced. He could see the parade going on down at Main Street, were all of the other people with parents that were a little less strict than his were dancing along to the music. Parading around in ridiculous outfits and getting ready to receive Naming Day in full swing.

“You know that you’ll make Mom and Dad proud regardless of what they tell you tomorrow, right?”

He turned to look at her, in the warm city lights his sister looked like one of the Persian princesses from his mother’s old books. Long, black, hair, plump lips, marble like skin and deep brown eyes. The only thing she seemed to be missing was a crown. “You know that’s not what I’m scared of, Moon.”

“You’ll have a Gift,” she was sure of it.

“And what if I don’t?” He asked, “What will we do if I don’t have a Gift.”

“Then we will help you get one.”

At that he scoffed. The party moved up one street from where it had been a few minutes ago. The procession of carnival carts, dancers, and drunk teenagers advancing from the outskirts of town into the Center. As it did every year when the time came around. Al reckoned that all of the people down there were probably having a blast, even if there were bound to be a few, like him, who knew their destiny before they even took the godawful test.

They, unlike Alabaster, weren’t going to let a Glitch stop them from partying.

“We can get other jobs, you know?” Claire tried again, “We have the qualifications. We could just— I don’t know. Work on the clothing store down the street. Or help Miss Hannigan with the bakery.”

“Oh yes, wonderful idea,” he spat out bitterly, “Get the girl in a wheelchair to sweep the floor.”

There was a second of silence in which Al instantly regretted ever opening his mouth. Then Claire sighed, “I’m going to allow that, just because I know you are very stressed and probably didn’t mean it.”

“I swear, I didn’t.”

“I know,” Claire shifted her body so that their shoulders were touching, “that’s why I’m allowing it.”

There was another beat of silence in which he allowed for the sound of the party all around them to drift into his ears. There were squeals of laughter, screams of people who were incredibly drunk, and the cheers of people who knew they were safe. Either because they had a Gift that was very strong, or because they had been working their ass off to get somewhere. Neither of those cases were his.

“I’m scared, Moon.”

She placed her calloused hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, “I know you are.”

“What are we going to do if I Glitch?”

He watched attentively as she sighed, and scanned every inch of his face with her kind eyes. As if he contained the answers, “I don’t know.”

He felt the panic rising from the pit of his stomach, clawing its way out through his throat in the form of a small sob. But the cry was stopped short by the sound of the door to their house slamming open and their mother walking over to a spot in which she could see them both, “Dinner is ready. Get down here before it goes cold.”

Claire dropped her hand, and Al cleared his throat before his mother could hear the sound he was about to make. Conversation forgotten, he climbed down the boxes and reached for the guitar. Making sure to place it inside the house before climbing back up to get Claire. She wrapped her hands around his neck, and he tangled her legs around his waist, then slowly lowered them to the ground. Once down he was able to place her back on her wheelchair and push her inside of the house.

The house’s radio was turned on and soft Jazz music was flowing through the air. The table was set, the food was steaming in piles at the center, and the only thing that was missing were the three people destined to eat it. He placed his sister on her open spot, and walked over to the kitchen to help his mother with the last of their meal.

“Oh no, I’m almost done,” she said as she placed some the rice on a serving plate, “just make sure the table is ready.”

“Perfect, as always, Mae.”

She hummed in satisfaction, “Is your sister there?”

“Yep,” he grabbed the plate from her hands, making way to the other room, “she’s waiting for us.”

His mother followed, looking around the room for someone she knew wasn’t going to be there, “Do you think I should—?”

He looked in the direction of his father’s study room, and shook his head, “I tried this afternoon. He shooed me away.”

“He needs to eat.”

Claire waved her fork, trying to call his mother’s attention, “He will, someday.”

His mother sighed, sitting down in the head of the table and beckoning her child to sit down beside her. She gave a quick prayer, to what or who Al didn’t know. His mother was a religious woman, always thanking the thousand and one spirits that she swore walked the earth and protected all of her children.

Then she gave them the thumbs up, and Al watched as his sister thanked their mother for praying in their name. Then they started to eat.

Okay! This is Chapter 1 of my Original Work. I have it planned out, it’s ready toi go and ready to be written. I hope you like it. If any of you are interested in getting tagged for updates, don’t hesitate to ask me!

Kudos, Reblogs, and Feedback are more than apreciated.

This is Crossposted on AO3, Wattpad, and NaNoWriMo! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do!

#my work #My writing #what they don't tell you about the future #OCs

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tucker-batson-blog · 6 years

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Task001: part two

Health

51) Have they ever been seriously injured?

“Plenty times. As I mentioned before, I’m kinda prone to disaster.”

52) Any allergies? How bad is it if they have it?

“I’m allergic to bees. Deathly allergic. Luckily there aren’t any bees in space! ...Right?”

53) Do they get sick often?

“Nah, I have an immune system of steel.”

54) Do they need to take medicine for anything?

“Nope!”

55) Are they a hypochondriac?

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

56) Do they even like going to the doctors?

“Going to the doctor is no big deal. Just something that’s necessary, I guess.”

57) Do they brush off injuries or seek help?

“Sometimes I’ll brush off a small injury and go on if I can. Also, if I get sick, I try to just get bedrest and ride it out.”

58) Do they know first aid?

“I do! It’s a very necessary skill.”

59) Do they have health insurance? If so, how good is it?

“I assume I do? I forgot to read the fine print when I signed up for this job...”

60) Have they ever harmed themselves?

“Never intentionally.”

Favorites

61) Fav animal? Why?

“Dogs! All dogs, any type of dogs. They’re good boys.”

62) Fav type of music? Why?

“I like anything with a funky beat. Hip-hop is probably my favorite, but I also like any kind of music that gives me like a retro-futuristic vibe?”

63) Fav place? Why?

“At the moment, it’s the Atlas-7′s viewing window. I love looking out at the stars.”

64) Fav food/drink? Why?

“A good ol’ deep dish pizza.”

65) Fav type/article of clothing? Why?

“Baseball caps! They’re dual-purpose: you wear them the right way around, you’ve got yourself sun-protection; you wear them backwards and you’ve got yourself a cool accessory.”

66) Fav time of day? Why?

“Late afternoon, when you get to clock off work and start winding down.”

67) Fav season? Why?

“Summer. Beach trips, pool parties, and barbeques. Need I say more?”

68) Fav story (be it from a book or something like a myth/fable)? Why?

“The Princess Bride! Comedy, adventure and romance equal the best story of all time.”

69) Fav thing to learn? Why?

“I like to learn new things about my friends and people around me. People are multi-faceted and interesting, and there’s always something exciting to learn- even about those closest to you.”

70) Fav scent? Why?

“The scent of a freshly mowed lawn in summer.”

World

71) Do they live on earth? Somewhere else?

“Currently, living on the Atlas-7.”

72) What time period do they live in? If not earth related, on whatever planet they live on, what time period is it like there?

“Oh, shoot. Good question. Gotta ask Samson about that.”

73) Anything special about their world?

“Heck yeah it’s special! We’re in deep space!!”

74) What are their world leaders like?

“Do we...do we have any world leaders yet? I don’t think we do?”

75) What is the state of their world like?

“Well, I feel like there’s a lot we still need to find about it. There’s a world of adventure out there!”

76) Do they wonder about their place/role in the world?

“Sometimes I wonder if I should be excited or scared about what’s out there, and just how well I can do my job protecting my friends.”

77) Is their world in contact with other worlds?

“Not yet. If there are any aliens listening, hit me up! If you’re, like, peaceful though.”

78) What area of their world do they live in? (I.e, hot/cold/mild climate and/or in a peaceful/war-torn/dictatorship)

“I live in my room aboard the Atlas-7, which is a peaceful realm ruled by yours truly.”

79) What is the wildlife like?

“There’s no wildlife yet, but man, am I itching to find out what the wildlife is like on planets out there.”

80) Do the people of this world have a religion or belief in a higher being? Does your OC personally believe in any?

“I don’t have any particular religious beliefs, myself, but I respect those that do.”

Skills

81) Do they know how to fight?

“Yep! Had to go through years of training for this, sooo. And there is also my military background.”

82) Can they drive? (Can be a car, train, plane, etc)

“I could drive vehicles on earth, but I’m not experienced in the realm of piloting.”

83) Can they swim?

“I can indeed!”

84) Are they handy?

“Kinda? Give me some duct tape and basic tools and I might be able to make a plan. I’m no mechanic, though.”

85) How quickly can they learn?

“I’m a little slow to learn new things, sometimes.”

86) Can they speak more than one language?

“Nah. Wish I could, though.”

87) Can they read and write?

“I can!”

88) Any survival skills?

“Yeah, some very basic survival skills. I’m no Bear Grylls, though.”

89) Can they cook?

“Not in the slightest!”

90) Any unusual/unique skills? (I.e, special powers compared to others)

“I can rap Nicki Minaj’s entire verse in ‘Monster’.”

Other II

91) Do they believe in destiny/fate? Do they think it can’t be changed?

“I do. I’d also like to say I’m pretty optimistic about it. Sure, we have some kind of hand in our own fate, but I think ultimately we’re all destined for something.”

92) Do they have any regrets?

“Sometimes I wonder if maybe I’d done something different back in the day, I might have obtained all my goals and dreams by now. Sometimes I just have to remind myself I still have time.”

93) What do they fear the most?

“Oh, man... complete isolation, I guess. I’m scared of waking up one day and everyone I know is gone.”

94) Do they believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? That love never dies?

“Yes, I strongly believe in all of these things.”

95) Can they play an instrument?

“I can play the fool!”

96) How messy is their room?

“Way too messy. I should probably sort that out.”

97) Can they dance?

“Nope, but I really wish I could.”

98) Do they like to meet new people? Do they like people in general?

“I love people and meeting them! You have to see the best in people, or life will be bleak.”

99) Are they hopeful for the future?

“Very hopeful. I’m hoping we all achieve great things out here.”

100) Why did you make this OC and maybe even the world they live in? Just cause? Or for some other reason?

OOC: Tucker’s a bean who deserves to explore space. There’s no one better suited to going on an adventure that’s intent on discovering new planets and starting new lives for the people around him. In this essay, I will

#task001 #part two #about me #long post

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theemichelleb · 5 years

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Married to Writing

I’ve had quite the journey as a writer. A majority of my struggle is moving forward despite my insecurities and fears. It’s always been interesting to me how traumatic experiences tend to automatically translate into life changing events. Looking back on my childhood before age 12, I was so different than who I am now. I was a tomboy that only wore loose clothes with straight backs and LOVED playing sports.

A month after my 12th birthday my father lost his battle to lung cancer, and it changed my life forever. I don’t remember if the change was immediate, but I do know the 6 months that followed his passing transitioned my life from athlete to artist. I started writing poetry, dancing, and discovered I had inherited the ability to draw from my mother. I was already the oddball in my family wanting to run around with all the boys to play basketball, football, baseball, and anything else that my mother would allow me to do, but was told it was too boyish. Then I had to deal with wanting to be a dancer and writer, but being told that would lead me to be a starving artist.

Now, that I’m older I know that I was just misunderstood, but I was standing in my purpose even though others couldn’t see it. Self expression, art, and performing was a part of me that was unleashed due to my father leaving this earth, but I had to grasp the fact that it was always my destiny to become who I am. Nobody else can see the destination for the calling God has placed on your life the way you can, you have to walk that path to find it for yourself.

Writing started as a coping mechanism to deal with my father dying. It helped me form words and thoughts I couldn’t verbally communicate, and release pent up anger and sadness that I didn’t feel I had the chance to release. My dad was like my best friend and he was gone… I didn’t have my defender and protector anymore, I literally had to figure it out on my own. Putting words on a page that represent me and what I believe, think, and pray for saved me from being anti-social and an introvert/hermit, truthfully. When I’m feeling overwhelmed and anxious, I love to sit and write my stream of emotions to calm my mind, body, and spirit, but then I have to keep moving and not let the feelings that build up keep me down.

God definitely took his time while molding me. I have desires to be adventurous, I love hard, I’m an observer and do my best to think before reacting, but most importantly I pray before making any huge decisions and put my decision in God’s hands. Writing is something I never really needed to question, but it is the main thing affected by the obstacles life throws at me. I knew I needed to re-evaluate what I wanted and who I was when it got too hard to write anything a few years back. I would try to pick up a pen and paper and just jot down ideas, but even that was difficult. I hadn’t written any poetry I deemed quality in years, and I felt my writing journey had abruptly ended, but I didn’t know why. How could something I loved so much just leave me? The reality I had to accept was I had left my love not the other way around.

2018 started my journey of healing from stressful work environments, stressful living situations, being confused about my purpose, and broken relationships, both romantic and platonic. I was forced into a place that made me re-evaluate what I wanted out of life and how I planned to get there. I found that I had been chasing after something that was never mine, something that was never meant to be my final destination, but I had become complacent and in my complacency I was lost. My motivation and drive had disappeared, I felt like I wasn’t good enough and all of the things I wanted didn’t want me, but I realized I wanted for things I didn’t need and those wants were superficial . God created me to give life and uplift others, not to depend on others for my purpose or find my purpose in the dreams of those around me. Those wants that weren’t birthed in me were draining me and turning me into somebody I never want to be again… a servant focused on making somebody else succeed, not worried about my own success and the fruits God blessed me with to give to the world.

After I started to gain my sense of self back and realized I needed to love myself, I found my love of writing again. It didn’t matter what I wrote, as long as I was trying and not doubting myself. The greatest part about finding my way back to my path of success were the supporters that had always believed in me and one new supporter that I didn’t plan on gaining, that heard my dream of becoming an author and motivational speaker and immediately started to push and encourage me to fight for that dream no matter what. They were the motivation I thought I was lacking and the drive I needed to push through.

One small seed and ambition spiraled into this website and the D.O.P.E. movement, because I forgot how D.O.P.E. I was. I realize, as a black woman, no matter how low we get on ourselves we continue to uplift and build up EVERYONE else around us. Sometimes we don’t get the same effort in return and then we lose all of our energy because we’ve given our all to a cause that isn’t our own. We find peace after we’ve “missed” the chance to do what we love and decide that encouraging young women to go after the things we wanted will make up for the opportunity we lost. I see DOPEness in all of the strong black women in my family, immediate and extended, and I’m here because of their willingness to uplift me and ensure that I don’t give up on the dreams that I am more than capable of achieving.

The worst part of it all was I didn’t realize how many people I had unknowingly disappointed in my absence from my gift. As soon as I started writing again the amount of support and encouragement I received from friends and family was so eye opening. I didn’t realize how many people were paying attention to my work back in college, but there has been so much positivity that has come from me taking the risk and jumping out here with my blog that I’m proud of myself for moving forward despite my fears.

Writing isn’t just something I do, it’s a part of who I am. It shows in the way I speak to people, how I interact with people, the way I observe, it’s on my mind when I sleep, and it’s what I want to use to help make a difference in the world and impact the lives of those I connect with. This site is just the first step to my life long dream of publishing multiple books, writing screenplays, and the rest of my entrepreneurial journey to build wealth for my family that’s already here and that hasn’t come yet.

I’m on a path to be married to my love of writing and do everything necessary to keep that flame burning like the greats; Maya Angelou, Zora Neale Hurston, Toni Morriston, Nikki Giovanni, Ntozake Shange, and so many others. Focus on your love and your passion, and remember nobody can tell you who you are. Know who are and stand proudly in that!

I’ve decided to be Determined to reach my goals, Optimistic that the hard work will pay off and my failures will not dictate my success, Powerful because God made me amazing, and Encouraging to those around me to do the same.

Be D.O.P.E. Black Girl!

Not just because you’re the only one that’s your type of DOPE (because NOBODY else is quite like you), but because God gave you that gift, it’s your birth right, you deserve it, and you have a mission to complete.

This is a special thank you to all of the women that have helped mold me into the bold and D.O.P.E. Black Woman I am today; honorable mention: my beautiful mother, my amazingly supportive sisters and my best of best friends. I love y’all!

#writing #passion #love #entrepreneur

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