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tiens-letters · 3 years

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with these hands, I vowed to love you

with these hands, I vowed to care for you

and with these hands, I ruined you

Childe (angst)

tw : slight gore and just pure pain

...

It was that time of the year again, going back to the snowy region was a bliss for you. Having to visit your fiancée's family was an unspoken tradition after he introduced you to them. They practically took you in as one of them immediately, especially that little angel brother of his.

Teucer.

The train ride was comfortable , the window giving you the familiar beauty of the snowy landscape of snezhenaya. It was snug inside the rather spacious compartment Childe rented out, even when you told him that you'd rather share a normal one due to your thrifty nature he'd shrug it off, claiming it that he has too much mora and nowhere to spend it on other than you.

Gifts from him would scare you as you knew these weren't anywhere cheap. Everything he gave was expensive, he loved showering you in gifts and it made you feel so overwhelmed.

"Ajax, you're spending too much." you were visibly sweating beside him as he picked out another one of the dresses on display at the local boutique of Liyue.

"I think this one would suit you better, don't you think so love?" of course he wasn't listening, placing the dress in front of you

"Ajax." you frowned at him

" I just want to spoil you." he whines

"I know but sometimes its just..." you stopped yourself before saying anything further in fear of offending him

"Was it too much again?" the tone in his voice softens as he puts back the dress, he knew how you didn't like that habit of his, formed from the first time he saw you down by the docks.

"One dress, Ajax. One is enough since you picked it out for me." you gave in not wanting to see him so dejected, he immediately brightens up as he pecks you on cheek before rushing off to a different aisle of clothing. Sighing, you sat down on the sofa present in the shop, watching the ginger decide thoroughly of what dress to buy.

But of course, your love for one another runs deeper than things bought off gold nor silver. No, it ran deeper than anything else, rivaling the oceanic depths.

"What are you thinking about hmm?" he hums below you, head resting against your lap.

"Im just happy to be visiting again, that's all." you smile, nimble hands brushing through his soft hair "Sleep well?"

"You bet I did." he grins taking your hand and placing a kiss to your beating pulse and then another and another, showering you in his deeply rooted affection. Soon his kisses reached where they are supposed to belong, those soft lips of yours and then inching their way to the sensitive spots on your neck, leaving marks only he can place on you.

Breathless and bothered, you pushed him back "The attendants are gonna see, you idiot." at least you still had some control in you

"They will only arrive when we call them , so its fine to have a little fun before we arrive." there was that sly grin of his as he continued in where you both left off, ears perking to hear more sounds exclusively for him and him only.

"You horny bastard!"

...

It was cozy by the hearth, you and his siblings huddled together in one single fleece blanket, steaming cups of hot cocoa in hand. Childish giggles and hushed stories erupted amongst you. Teucer having wrapped in your arms as he snuggled closer. Anthon and Tonia flanking your sides.

"Hey, who's fiancé do you think you guys are coveting?"

"Oh don't be like that, your siblings just miss them." his mother chided from the couch where she sat, an open book on her lap, she didn't seem to age and always looked so young that at first you were shocked to have been introduced to her.

"But mom, I haven't seen her all day." her son pouts as if he were still a child denied his candy

"Give me a break, you're always clinging onto her you know." his sister rolls those identical thalassic eyes at him "You wont die if you go a day without her."

"Listen here you little---"

"Ajax." you interjected, as much as you enjoy the siblingly banter of theirs, you cant have them going at each other with offensive words. His pleading gaze aimed at you as he practically begged for you both to go home.

"Please?"

"After I put Teucer to bed." you sighed, standing up with the youngest in your arms

"Seriously this guy." his sister groaned "I was having a good time."

"Tonia dear, we can continue our conversations tomorrow." you winked at her, it was a promise

"Fine."

Both of you bid farewell to his mother and made your way towards Teucer's room and tucking him in.

"Happy?" you turned to your fiancée, a narrowed look in your eyes as he grinned beside you

"Of course, sweetheart!" he pecked your lips as he pulled you closer

"Can you not do it in Teucer's room? Have some shame." his siblings' comments were endless, this time it was from his older brother.

"That's why were going home." Childe picked you up as you made a surprised yelp making the other party roll his eyes "Also, get ready to lose tomorrow brother. I'm getting that white deer for my lady."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The walk was short towards Childe's home as he preferred living alone. It was a grandiose manor and you were sure you will never get used to how big it was and filled with such furnitures of the finest quality.

"Well, how was your day darling?" you hummed, arms snaking around his neck

"Oh you wouldn't believe it."

...

It was there.

You felt it in the cold breeze that wafted into the room.

A shift in the flow of the wind, it was different yet familiar at the same time. Leaving the window open as the harsh temperatures of the night climbed and crawled inside. The curtains danced in the turbulent current of the gale, carrying songs only you could hear. Songs that made mountains tremble and build civilizations at the same time.

there was something foreboding, something terrifying and something heavy and dark that devoured anything in its path.

You heard him first before he came in through those doors, that tousled ginger hair of his caked with melting snowflakes in the warm glow of the lamps. His rugged appearance caused by the hunting competition between him and his older siblings induced his worn out state. That soft yet jaded smile of his was what welcomed you as he trudged inside the bedroom, lazily discarding his clothes on the basket for dirty laundry and entering the bathroom for a quick shower.

"why is the window open? " he asks you, sliding inside the warm covers

"I just wanted fresh air ." you smile as you shut the windows and pull the blinds enough for you to see the moon that hung above the sky. Joining him under the covers, you cradled him, his head resting on the crook of your neck. Your hands finding their way into those soft locks of his , entangling them as he hummed softly against you. Those arms of his that held weapons and skin littered with scars both old and new now held you close, so tenderly as if he'd never taken a life before.

"sing me a song, sweetheart. " his queries were simple yet genuine

"of course." you sang until you equated him to a sleeping newborn

It was warm, so warm that you could have mistaken it for a summer afternoon in Liyue, resting on the couch with silken pillows and window showcasing the view of the harbor below. The steaming cups of soothing tea Beidou would brew for you when nights became cold at times she would pay you a visit after trading that would take weeks, months and rarely years.

you slept.

Why is it cold? you wondered, Did Ajax open the windows?

You were blessed by the tsaritsa so such climates shouldn't matter to you.

You woke up.

A shadow was cast over you by the man youve sung to sleep. Virulent blue eyes looked at you with so much abhorrence, for a second you couldnt recognize them and thought it was a stranger to which you were ready to terminate.

"Ajax?" your voice was hoarse, as you slowly lost the feeling in your lips.

He was crazed, still trapped in that dreaming state of his, drifting between experiences. Today was a re-enactment of a memory he would never speak of, not even to you. There were parts of him he'd never tell you, such a soul as yours should never hear.

You choked and coughed as the metallic taste of mortal ichor filled your throat. How could you have not felt anything earlier? Was it because of your futile attempts to coax Ajax back into reality or was it because of the numerous thoughts your mind came up with to he answer as to why he is in such a virulent state. Excruciating pain filled your whole body as you writhed and struggled under his grip. It felt as if something was being ripped out of you.

"Ajax, darling come back to me." you cried, it took so much to even utter a word as you bled out, you know not where but you could feel it. The liquid vital for your survival was seeping out of you, flowing like a lazy river on an autumns day, only that it was warm, sticky and addicting.

"Ajax?" a hiss comes from that mouth, he cringes as you freed your numb hands to hold his face and he let you, seeing as to there was no point in stopping you as you dangerously danced on a tight rope of life and death. You couldn't tell in that delirious disposition of yours if his eyes were shifting between Ajax or the primal eyes of a beast hunting its prey.

It wasn't too late was it?

But why didn't your eyes meet his?

Who snuffed out all the lights?

"I've abandoned that name a long time ago."

The cold took over you completely, freezing you until you broke under his touch with words left dying in your ichor filled lips

and then fear was the last thing you felt.

fear that he might not return to his sweet, charming self.

fear that he will curse everything in his path.

fear that he might attempt to use different various methods to bring back what was lost

and fear of his ruination.

you care not for your death, even in your last minutes of life, you dare not blame him for what he's endured so far. only wishing he never had to experience such in the first place.

This is what the wind warned you about in its lullaby.

...

Childe woke up for the second time.

Oddly more worn out than the day before, but your songs always worked, how come? . He wondered if you left to make breakfast as the covers felt empty as he reached out for you. No, you were a late riser, always having to slumber in the middle of the warm covers of the bed you both share. It was he who mostly did the cooking in the morning. So your presence gone was a displacement in the moment of his waking.

His eyes had to adjust to the view of the room as he sat up, a yawn escaping his lips as he called for you. The pitter-patter sound of the water on the bathroom tiles were non-existent as he strained his ears to hear for any trace of you.

"What..." he was confused as to why the room was trashed, furniture broken in half and strewn about the room, the drapes shredded and laying on the floor and the mirror shattered to pieces, shards sharp enough to cut through skin yet he slept through such a thing?

his first concern was your safety as you had not been present in the room and it him.

the heavy stench of blood lingered in the air. His enjoyment for such things turned into something suffocating because blood was never shed in his own home nor in his very room. In the state of confusion, something dark caught his peripheral vision. A large blemish in the covers beside him, it was dyed a deep dark crimson and he knew well what it was. He began to shake in worry, telling himself not to panic until he finds you safe. All he could remember was you singing him to sleep, held captive in your soft arms, encased in your warmth, so how did it come to such a morning that looked like a result of a monster's tantrum. He calls out for you, his bare feet on the floor as splinters punctured them and he didnt care. he had to find you.

The hallways looked haunting, the portraits on the walls taunting him and he swore he was going lose it if he hadnt found you sooner, every room was achingly vacant and it felt like a dream. He calls for your name again in a frenzy as he rushes through the place, had the mansion been this big? he thinks as he runs down the stairs.

There in the fireplace, the dying embers of fire lit from the night before, wood giving away and turning into coal as the burning smell mingled with similar stench that engulfed the bedroom, the same dark liquid on the sheets was present as well, only that it was painted into the wall and bled down creating a cascading waterfall.

Because there you were, with arms spread out as if welcoming each and every sinner for solace and blessing them with forgiveness, the drying mortal ichor behind you creating a halo. Your lips upturned into something soft as if you'd do anything disgraceful to keep the effeminacy on a soul lost to ruin.

an angel crucified.

that oh so heavenly face of yours could rival anything beautiful, even statues would crumble under you, nations would go to war for you and bodies of those who want you would turn into a throne built for you and you only. You were immortally ethereal even in death.

Ajax, dear sweet Ajax felt his legs give away, energy having siphoned from him as he trembled so much that it could rival the mountains when they shook. Thalassic eyes, wide blown into grief, anguish and all other emotions crashed against him like strong waves that could drown anyone caught up in it. He knelt as pain spread through him like wildfire, burning, scorching and killing. Agonized cries filled the room and if someone were to pass by, they couldve mistaken it for a dying animal. He gasped and choked on his own breath as he dared to look at you, the tears freely flowing from his eyes, down to his pale cheek and finally falling off his trembling chin to be hungrily absorbed by the carpeted floor that was also tarnished by ichor.

He felt crazed as he wept and in that moment of insanity, he remembered. That most disgusting sin he's ever committed that he should never be pardoned for in the life he has right now and the next ones he will be in. Through the blur of tears, he saw his hands and he wished he didnt.

Sullied hands befitting a murderer.

He screams into the ground, doubling over as his hands find their way into his hair, gripping it and ripping out those jacinthe locks of his. He could never forgive himself now and he never will. He wails out loud until his own throat collapsed into a croaking mess.

and then he couldnt find himself no longer.

The sand of time seemed to trickle down slowly. His eldest siblings came looking for him, to continue the hunt. A once peaceful encounter turned into a nightmarish reality as they witnessed their brother rocking back and forth with you gingerly wrapped in his arms, mumbling your name. Lips pressed to your forehead as he prayed and begged for forgiveness over and over in hushed torn whispers as if it were enough to bring you back and cover that gaping hole in your abdomen.

"What did you do?"

...

"Brother, when are they coming back?"

Oh darling Teucer, innocence reflecting off his eyes as he tugged on his brother's sleeve. The toy you gifted him clutched tightly at his side.

"I dont know kid, their mission was sudden so its best to wait. Can you do that Teuc?" the truth about you was kept behind closed doors, only adults can speak of and if they did, it took time to keep the conversation smooth and off of any grief nor sadness when your name reached their tongue. The younger ones would never know until the time is right. When everything was taken care of and hearts moved on.

Your funeral was held in secrecy yet was it was grand. Something that would hold the significance of your memories with them. It was beautiful, your favorite flowers lined along your coffin, and you. Looking ever so ethereal even when death has kissed you, clad in that dress Childe bought for you.

"uh huh!" the youngest ginger nodded eagerly and skipped away as the eldest sighed into his hands, the pressure weighing heavily on his shoulders as he worried more and more about his younger sibling. Another memory, a mind broken and a his soul withering. was there any way to save him?

Days seemed to go by as any glimpse of the man was scarce. Until one day they ceased to see him altogether. It started at lunch, a week after the funeral when it took everyone to coax him into eating more as he lost weight and trickled down to a whole day. Cooped up in his room, clinging to a pillow with the fading scent of you. and then he was gone, like a snowflake melting upon ones forehead. They grew anxious and thought of the worse until they caught wind that he was back in Liyue from one of the agents only then were they allowed to breathe a little better.

"Childe, what finds you here?" the calm tone of the geo archon's voice broke him out of his trance

"Have you seen my fiance?" Zhongli blinks at the question of the harbinger, he knew what befell you and yet this man before him seemed clueless enough as to what he committed. How Childe did what he did, he seemed to sympathize with in a way that would make him understand his behavior.

" I have not." he couldnt bring himself to tell this man the truth. Perhaps he was sparing him, spearing that mind of his into spiraling down into nothingness and a heart that was held by a thin piece of thread. "Perhaps it is better to enjoy yourself while you wait for them."

To deviate oneself from the loss might be the best way Childe right now until his mind is ready to accept the torment of the heavy truth that would slew this man.

"I see. " he smiles and yet it feels so empty to Childe, the reason? He wouldnt know or atleast his mind wouldnt allow him to know

"Ill see you around then Xiansheng."

Everything that he portrayed lacked and all he could do as he's always did.

...........

i had to.

I hope yall would get Childe :)

#genshin impact #genshin impact angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact drabbles #childe #childe angst #childe one shot #childe imagine #childe drabble #ajax #tartaglia

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1232

Did you make any money today? Not today, because it’s a weekend.

What was the highest place you've ever jumped from? I’m not too sure, actually. I tend to be cautious when it comes to jumping just because I always have this fear at the back of my head that I could possibly snap my legs in half upon landing lol.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river? I don’t think I have.

Is there something you really want to buy at the moment? I want a jumbo RJ doll but it’s quite expensive and not one of my priorities at the moment.

Would you ever consider culinary school? I want to learn how to cook but not passionate enough about it to enroll in culinary school altogether, so no.

What was the last souvenir someone got you? It’s been a while since anyone went anywhere...

Do you have a favorite remix of a song? I’ve never enjoyed remixes and just stick to original versions of songs. The one remix I’ll give a pass to is BTS’ Mic Drop with Steve Aoki just because that one includes a dance break that sounds really nice and gets me all hyped up.

Has the power gone out recently? Yeah, like two weeks ago. I was working from home then so it had been a huge bother, but fortunately I had been charging my devices all day and also had enough data on my phone so I was able to continue.

Do you like driving at night? It’s ok and actually pretty relaxing if it’s LATE late at night and there’s barely any cars. Driving in the evening during rush hour, on the other hand, is just fucking stressful.

What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument? Depending on how it’s played, probably the piano or violin.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies? Yes. It’s a pretty influential factor.

Have you ever snuck in to a theater/dance/bar etc? No.

If given the chance, would you go to Ireland? I mean, it’s not really on top of my bucket list but for the sake of travelling and experiencing a different place and culture I definitely would go to Ireland.

Are you afraid of standing on the edge of hills/skyscrapers/cliffs etc? I am scared but whenever I’m given the chance to do this I kind of scrap that fear first and live in the moment.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar etc)? No.

Do you have an absolute favorite name (boy or girl)? Alessandra, 120%. It is so beautiful-sounding, plus I love that you can use "Alessa" as a nickname. My Silent Hill obsession is quite thrilled by that, ha ha. < I love that name too, now that I think about it. For now, I think Olivia still tops my list.

Are you good at pronouncing foreign words? My English is alright.

When listening to music, do you usually tap your foot etc to the beat? I tap my fingers more than my foot.

Have you ever literally cried on a friend's shoulder? Yeah but they were also my significant other then, so I dunno if that counts. I’m not super into physical touch so this isn’t something I’d do towards a friend, no matter how close we are.

Would you ever consider being a DJ at a party if you were paid? Nah, I would suck.

Do strapless bras work for you? No, my boobs are too small.

Has anyone told you that they wanted to marry you/were planning on it/etc? No.

Do you feel comfortable enough to wear short shorts? Yeah, I just never really have the opportunity to wear them.

Have a favorite actor/actress from Old Hollywood? (Marilyn Munroe, etc) AUDREY HEPBURNNNNNNNNNN

What's your opinion on people who stretch their ears? They can do whatever they want lol. I’m personally not a fan of the look but that’s my own problem to deal with.

Do you think tattoos are expressive art or unattractive? Expressive.

What is your school mascot? None of the schools I attended have one.

Have you ever seen a bear in the wild? I have never seen a bear.

What's the book you're currently reading? Not reading anything at the moment.

Can you recall the most disturbing movie you've ever seen? Eraserhead. Requiem For A Dream is also stressful to watch, even on your 2nd or 45th rewatch.

Has anyone you know gotten mono? Possibly, but I can’t place names at the moment.

Have you ever picked an apple off the tree and eaten it? No. Aside from the fact that I don’t eat fruits, apple trees aren’t native here so I’ve never actually seen one.

Can you say yes/no in different languages? Oo/hindi, ne/ani.

Out of the traditional superheroes, which one is your favorite? I don’t like superheroes.

Ever peed in your pants after the age of 10? Not in my pants but my bed, but fortunately it just happened once.

Had any surgeries? What kind? I have not.

Ever told your parents you hated them? I had it written down on my journal when I was going through those rebellious puberty years, but it was only directed towards my mom because that had also been the peak of her emotionally/mentally abusive days. It’s funny because she snooped through my stuff then and saw the entry and ended up crying...and I didn’t even feel bad about it because 1) I meant what I wrote, and 2) she literally went through my shit. I still don’t feel bad about it.

Do you let your pets on your furniture? Yes they can get on the couch and my bed.

How do you feel about kettle cooked chips? I don’t really have an opinion lmao. If they are chips then they are going in my mouth.

How strong do you like your coffee? I like milky/creamy coffee best tbh. When it comes to how strong they are I don’t have a preference.

Would you rather see someone of the opposite sex naked or nicely dressed? Idk.

Would you ever consider visiting Texas? I have relatives based in San Antonio and we’re pretty close to that side of the family, so yeah.

If you could make a movie, what would it be about? I’ve never been one for creative writing.

If you were kicked out of your current residence whom would you call? My grandma or one of my aunts.

Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? Not at this point in my life.

Do you prefer broccoli or asparagus? Oooooohh I love both!

Was the last person you kissed attractive? Objectively yes, but I no longer feel the attraction I once held for her.

Are you racist at all? No.

Do you read creepypasta? If not, you should. No thanks.

Have you ever vandalized? Yeah some desks when I was in grade school.

Would you ever scuba dive in shark-infested waters if you had the chance? Most likely not. And by the way, they do not "infest" waters. That's their home. I hate that phrase so much. < This is a good point and I’d like to keep it here. Anywho, yeah I’m willing to do this but as far as I know they keep you in a cage when you go down in the water. I’d only do it if this was guaranteed lol.

Have you ever been drunk at work? Hungover, yes. Drunk while at work, hell no.

Have you ever hit a parked car with your car? No. My mom has done this with my parked car though -____- She had been backing up and I kept honking as she inched closer to my car, but she heeded me no mind until she finally hit me.

Have you ever slept on the floor with someone you like? We probably had but I don’t remember the details anymore.

Which do you prefer: french toast, bagels, or cereal? Bagels.

Do you prefer light or dark haired? Dark.

Have you ever read any of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books? Yes, I liked reading those in like grade school and high school.

Would you be prepared to do a job that you didn’t like, if it paid well? I haven’t been placed in that situation yet, so I’m not actually sure how I would handle it. Depends on how much the money is, I guess.

Do you think age is needed for maturity? No.

Do you believe the future is predetermined? I don’t think so.

What words are most comforting to you? Words of reassurance, like, “I’m just here,” “You don’t have to apologize.”

How important is money to you? It is generally pretty important to me and I’m usually good at saving...I’ve just hit a road bump the last few months because getting into K-Pop means wanting to get something out of every new merch drop hahahaha. I went alarmingly crazy from April to June, but I made a vow to calm down starting this July; and so far, aside from pre-ordering the new Memories of 2020 DVD and buying some merch from the pop-up store, I haven’t bought anything else.

Is there anything you want to last forever? Cold weather in the Philippines.

List three of your passions: Writing, food, and museums.

How old do you want to live to? Just because I’m competitive even until age, I want to make it to 100 lmao.

What kind of love do you value the most? Very comfortable platonic love. I highly value friendships where I can pretty much treat them like an SO hahaha.

If you could control one element, what would it be? I don’t care.

Do you prefer foxes or wolves? No preferences.

Could you ever deliver a baby? OMG no I would be terrible and would for sure bring more harm than good to the mother.

Do you think suits are sexy? Uh yeah.

Ever been called babe? Yeah.

How old is your youngest sibling? 18.

Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Angela.

Favorite boy’s name? I guess I have several preferences, but I dunno if I have favorite boy’s names. I like the sounds of Lucas, Jacob, Liam, and Mason.

Are your parents together, separated, divorced, never married, what? Married.

Do you go online every day? For sure.

What is the best quality in the last guy you kissed? I’ve never kissed a guy.

What do you usually do during a kiss? Depends on how passionate it is? < Yeah.

Do you have an older brother? Technically no, but I have a cousin that I pretty much see as one.

You’re offered free tickets to a Justin Bieber concert. What do you do? I love Biebs, but I would probably sell them. Some extra money is always good hahaha.

What’s the genre of the current song you’re listening to? K-Pop, R&B.

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? Yeah, I already have two of them.

Would you ever sell your soul? Erm, I guess not.

#survey #surveys

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verai-marcel · 4 years

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The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 1 of 6, 18+)

Summary: John Marston was proud to be part of the VDL Riders, a biker gang led by Dutch van der Linde, and had been with them since he had run from home at the age of 15. He and his makeshift family lived by three principles: live free, help those who need it, and punish those who deserve it. For five years, his gang was all he cared about and nothing else mattered. But then John meets you, and his priorities start to change.

Author’s Notes: Go check out @veradia’s biker AU RDR2 art for what inspired me to write this. This is a prequel to Before This Dance Is Through, so everyone is 6 years younger; John is about 20 in this story and so are you, my dear reader.

Tags: prequel fic, eventual smut, romance, drama, violence, cheesy 80s vibe even though it's 2012, modern AU, switching POVs

AO3 Link is here, sweetheart.

--------------------

Chapter 1 - Start at the End

Word count: 2032

“Dammit Morgan, you could’ve warned me!”

Arthur grinned as he slapped John’s back. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?”

The others laughed while John rubbed the back of his head, leaning down to pick up the can of beer. It looked too shaken up to open at this point, so he set it on the table and glared at his brothers. Stalking past them towards the mini-fridge, he pulled out another beer, popped it open and took a long gulp. Dressed in his favorite black leather jacket over a plain white shirt, ripped black jeans, a chain on his belt to keep his wallet from being stolen, and scuffed biker boots, John looked like he bought all of his clothes in the late 80s and never changed.

“So, what’re we doing tonight?” Javier asked, leaning against the mezzanine railing. He had his medium length hair tied up, strands of it falling from the hair tie to frame his angled face. His leather vest and his blue jeans were impeccably clean, and not a single misplaced thread was on his V-neck shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He carried his favorite combat knife in a holster on his hip, hidden under the vest, and he wore black fingerless leather gloves.

Lenny sat on the couch, his freshly polished black boots propped up on the coffee table. He looked like he didn’t quite belong in a motorcycle club, in his black pants and black T-shirt. His white cowboy hat was clean, his white blazer crisp. He had his own knife holster, concealed under his jacket.

Sean was standing behind the couch, leaning against the back of it. He wore a green headband around his shoulder length hair, fancying himself an Irish Rambo, choosing to wear a blue athletic cut T-shirt and olive green khakis. He wore his brown Timberland boots, the same ones he had since he joined the gang. They looked dirty and scuffed to hell, but they still did their job, so he had no reason to buy new ones. His green & red striped flannel was tied around his waist, hiding a knife holster.

Charles was sitting back in one of the arm chairs catty-corner to the couch. He had his long hair braided tight, the sides of his head shaved. His dark blue peacoat was open to show his black turtleneck and blue jeans. Both of his black biker boots had knife holsters with a few throwing knives.

They all looked towards Arthur, who shrugged as he looked at all of them. He had his worn cowboy hat on with his old bomber jacket over a grey shirt, faded blue jeans, and cowboy boots. He pulled a cigarette out and lit it with his silver zippo lighter, breathing in and letting out a puff of smoke before he responded.

“Dutch wants us to go run security at some rich feller’s house party.”

“And how are we supposed to manage t’at? I don’t have any fine clothin’ for the occasion,” Sean groused.

“No amount of clothing can save you,” Javier joked.

Sean glared as the others laughed.

“Dutch said we just wear black polos and black jeans so we look like a security company,” Arthur said once the laughter died down.

“So. Is there an alternative motive for this job?” Charles asked.

“Of course there is,” Lenny said confidently. “There’s no way Dutch would deal with those kind of folks without a reason.”

Arthur nodded. “Word is that the rich feller has quite the car collection. We sneak in after the party while everyone’s wasted and drive a few of them outta there. Swap out the plates, get a paint job over at Hosea’s, done deal.”

“And if they have alarms or kill switches?” John asked.

“You know how to hot wire,” Arthur sniped. “You, Javier, and Lenny can deal with it.” He walked past all of them and headed down the stairs. "Meet you all back here by 6pm."

John shrugged. As they split up to prepare for the job, he looked around the small warehouse they called their biker club. Walking down the stairs, he went past their bike shop area underneath the mezzanine and paused for a moment. They had slowly built this place up from scratch, bringing in old furniture for their hang out space and tools to take care of their bikes.

And on the other side of the warehouse were two offices that had been converted into bedrooms. While the others had their own places to live, John and Arthur lived at the club, having both been orphans and taken in by Dutch. Their rooms weren’t anything fancy, just a little bit of room to sleep and store their worldly possessions. John headed to his room to take a nap.

Instead, he lay on his old mattress, staring at the ceiling. He had been with the gang for five years, since he ran away from his foster home. His mother had died six years ago from a drug overdose. When she was lucid, which wasn’t very often, she was kind, even as her eyes bled sadness at the edges; those were the memories he held onto the tightest. He didn’t even know who his father was, or if he was even still alive, but he knew that if he ever met him in person, he'd knock his lights out for leaving his mother such a wreck.

After he had been sent to foster care, his foster parents didn’t try to understand him, they only tried to mold him into what they thought a proper young man should be. So he ran away. When Dutch found him, scrounging for food in a trash can behind the warehouse, he took him in. Gave him shelter.

Then there was Arthur. He was like a big brother, taught him how to fend for himself, taught him what it meant to give more than you received, even if it came with insults and punches to the face at times.

As more outcasts joined the gang, they also became his family, his brothers. Javier, Sean, Lenny, and Charles, one by one, they all joined and quickly became an intrinsic part of his life. He’d never want for more than this.

But lately, Dutch seemed off. For the past year, John had noticed him taking bigger risks, sending them on more violent jobs, and slowly stepping away from the hands-on work, leaving it to “the younger, faster men,” as he called them. There was a tinge of blind desperation in how Dutch led them now, almost as if he wanted to push them towards something greater, but wasn’t sure what that something was.

Rolling over, he stared at the wall covered in Led Zeppelin, Eagles, and other classic rock posters. He looked at the one Metallica poster he had and smiled wryly as he remembered Arthur throwing it at him, snarling “happy fucking birthday”, and slamming his door. He later found out that Arthur had snuck into the concert, stolen a poster, and ran half a mile to get away. And all because John had whined about not being able to go that night because he was sick.

He sighed and got up. He wasn’t going to get any sleep now. Leaving his room, he tinkered with his Honda Shadow Aero, his pride and joy, until it was time to go.

***

“We certainly look dangerous,” Charles said with a hint of humor in his voice as he calmly got out of the gang’s Sprinter van.

“That’s because we are,” Javier said matter-of-factly as he hopped out next.

Everyone bounded out of the van, with John the last out. He pulled the sliding door shut and followed the others into the house, hanging back as he listened to Arthur talk with the party host about the job. He trailed behind them as they were led around the house and made mental notes about where the party goers were allowed to go and where they were forbidden.

Once they were left to their own devices, Arthur turned around. “Alright men, let’s get to work.”

***

The party was wild, the party-goers were disgusting, and at the end, half of them were drunk, and the other half were passed out.

It was almost far too easy to sneak into the garage, pick a couple cars that were not too flashy, and drive them off the premises.

As they took off down some quiet back roads to lose any would-be followers, John sat and stared out the window into the pitch black night as Arthur drove with the window rolled down, his arm hanging out the window. Lenny and Sean had taken a car while Charles and Javier had left the party earlier, driving the van to Hosea’s shop.

“Hey.”

“What.”

John scratched his beard. “Do ya think—”

“I think more than you,” Arthur interrupted.

“Dammit Arthur, I’m tryin’ to be serious here!”

“Calm your balls,” Arthur said gruffly. “Yer so easy to rile up, I can’t help it.”

John let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you think Dutch is… do you think he’s tired of this? Of the club?”

Arthur was silent for a few moments. “Why do you say that?”

“He hasn’t been around much lately. He tells us to go do these jobs that are more and more dangerous. We haven’t done a charity drive or anythin’ nice for the community in the past two years.”

“Yeah, I noticed too. I don’t know, I’m sure somethin’ will come around. Maybe he’s been busy just tryin’ to get us steady work.”

“We used to just get jobs that were just jobs. Now we always have some double crossin’ or thievin’ or some shit that could get us in serious trouble!”

Arthur was silent for a little too long.

“Arthur?”

His sigh was long and tired. “I know. I know.”

The rest of the drive was silent as they drove the two hours back to the city.

***

After they had dropped the cars off at Hosea’s car shop, Charles drove them all back to the club in the van. It was 4AM by the time they all got back, and collectively they decided to call it a night and get back together the next night. As the others took their bikes and headed to their own homes, Arthur glanced over at John, who was still silent, still thinking.

“Yer goin’ to think yerself into the ground there,” Arthur commented.

John shrugged. “I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Arthur nodded. “Yeah. Let’s talk to Dutch tomorrow.”

As Arthur headed back to his room, John stepped outside and leaned against the brick wall. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it with his disposable lighter, and slowly took a drag as he stared up at the twilight sky, the stars barely visible in the city. He had an itch to be out in the open again, to sleep under the river of stars like he did in the desert. Or even to be out of a city, just for a while.

John finished his cigarette and slunk back into the warehouse, crawling into bed and staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally passing out when even his churning thoughts could no longer keep him awake.

***

“I swear, if we have to hear one more lecture about not having enough faith…”

Arthur just shook his head as he followed John out of the convenience store, quietly drinking his soda.

“We just asked one damn thing, and he blows up at us like we’re questioning his entire existence!”

“You know how he is,” Arthur mumbled.

“I know how he was. How he is now… he ain’t the same.”

John’s statement was met with silence.

“You know I’m right,” John insisted.

Arthur let out a long sigh. “Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know!” John looked away. "All I know is that things ain't the same anymore," he mumbled as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and went silent as they walked back to the warehouse.

"Well," Arthur said after a while, "It weren't us that changed, that's for sure."

----------------------

Chapter 2 coming soon!

#john x reader #john marston #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #biker au #lemon fanfic #eventual smut #nsft #modern au

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curewhimsy · 3 years

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Symphony Saga Resonate chapter 1

I was inspired!

Notes: This fanfic is like, a middle/high school-centric fic so my OCs are all middle/high school aged here (youngest= 12, oldest= 18)

Also everyone is gonna age by 6 years eventually

AO3 link

——————

Can a dream change the world?

Can a song awaken the soul?

Does our universe truly have limits?

Why am I asking all of these questions?

We all each have a story.

We all matter.

If we all join together, how big of a miracle can we create?

The story of Resonate unfolds...

———

Queen Rainbow’s Point of View

In a world where color was scarce... wonder was draining from people’s souls, and warmth was fading from their hearts. The warmth in their smiles were waning... And soon enough, they weren’t able to truly smile any longer.

This world... was called Monochrome.

Being the furthest planet in its solar system from the sun, Monochrome was already quite a lonely place. But everything froze over when Obsidian stepped to the throne.

Monochrome was a painfully boring place, filled with progressively more boring people. It got to the point where the most boring, bitter person of all would automatically be crowned as royalty.

Her name was Obsidian, and she became the Queen of Misery. She did not believe in fun, happiness, or love. Her heart was made of coal. When she breathed out, thick black smoke would fill the air, despite her never being a smoker.

Queen Obsidian’s very existence would always pollute the air with negativity and gloom that would make people lose hope. She was so boring, that her presence would transform sugary donuts into regular old bagels with nothing on them. She was so boring, that her royal fanfare was played on a single off-key kazoo. She was so utterly dull, that she even sent Planet Monochrome into a thousand-year-long ice age after telling one terrible joke.

But worse than all that combined, the Queen of Misery was a selfish, spiteful, and joyless person.

Nobody exactly knew why, but Queen Obsidian hated music... Possibly because of how positive and fun it could potentially be, not to mention the sheer raw emotion and vibes it could could convey.

One day, Queen Obsidian heard a song. It was awful. She hated it so much, that she ordered it to be sent to the Nowhere Of Permanent Erasure Void, or “NOPE Void” for short, where it would be deleted from our reality.

Queen Obsidian wanted to erase all the universe’s music from existence this way, and for people to never make or listen to it again. Ever.

Knowing that Monochrome barely had any worthwhile tunes to get rid of, Obsidian began to target the music on other worlds.

And what better place to start than the magical, colorful planet known as Whimsica?

Whimsica, a charming, fittingly whimsical world filled with magic... It may ideally be peaceful, yet we’ve been attacked by Monochrome for years just for being so idyllic. Apparently, our bright, rainbow colors that can be seen from space are an eyesore for them.

This is also where I come in.

My name is Queen Rainbow... and I’m the Queen of Whimsica. I’m only 16 years old, which is... actually pretty old for a monarch of Whimsica, believe it or not!

Whimsica’s monarchs are usually children nowadays! That’s because we have a childish kind of “whimsy” in our hearts and an arcane sort of innocence to see the world through rainbow-tinted lenses.

A long time in the past, Whimsica had a very strict older queen who forbid the royals, even the ones in the future, from ever befriending commoners.

That queen used a spell, so if a royal was caught being friends with a commoner, they would fall into a long slumber. The length of how long they would sleep corresponded to how strong the royal‘s bond was to the commoner.

Recently, the spell was broken, however! So now I can befriend and hang out with all the common folk I want. To be honest, being that kind of queen wasn’t so great, it was a little lonely, and I always hated feeling so unapproachable... and responsible!

Well, to tell the truth, the eldest of the three princess sisters actually does most of the work. 18-year-old Celestine is the responsible and proper eldest sister. Lunette, age 16, is the middle sister, and a bit mischievous. The youngest sister is 14-year-old Stelle, and she... well... is a bit of a problem child.

Anyway. I had proposed a new course of action against what Monochrome is trying to do. The princess sisters and I, along with Celestine’s best friend Nikamowin, and even the two royal anthromorph cats, Sparkle and Twinkle, have been using our magical powers the best we could to fight against Monochrome’s Queen and royal force, and the monsters they use against us.

But I still feel we need more help. We need the help of magical musicians.

I’ve been beginning to practice making music so I could harness its positive energy and make my songs into magic that can defeat Monochrome’s negativity. Nikamowin is also a skilled singer and can use songs to help us, but I still feel we need to power of more music.

So I assigned a job to Sparkle and Twinkle. Their job now is to look for passionate musicians with pure hearts, who are interested in joining our force to help save music for the entire universe...

———

Haku Yowane’s Point of View

Location: Earth

I zipped up my backpack to the faint scent of dust around the house, tied my shoes, wiped my long bangs from my eyes, and got ready to step out the door to go to school. Another gray day.

Even though I didn’t live with her, my world felt so empty now. My heart felt so hollow.

It was the little things.

Rain pattering on the roof... once a cozy and quaint sound... now just a gloomy and sad reminder.

An old notebook... once a source of joy and closeness... now just cold and distant.

A stuffed cat... warm and beloved... now even more well-loved, and irreplaceable.

All these things I saw right before I left my house to go to school reminded me of her.

My grandmother.

She passed away three weeks ago.

Right before I began opening my door, I looked back, and saw Snowbell, the plush cat Grandma gifted me long ago, eyeing me gently from my table.

I decided I couldn’t go to school without Snowbell. I couldn’t leave her alone.

I picked up the well-loved plush and hugged her gently and sadly, and made my way out the door with her.

Snowbell was special to me.

At the age of five, I was quite meek and lonely, with a reddish nose and wobbly knees. I would catch colds often, and constantly be sniffling, which was how I earned the nickname “Sniffles”.

I was a bit odd. I had strange habits such as pretending I were a cat, even lapping milk out of a bowl at snack time. I liked to draw pictures and play make-believe at recess. I didn’t like strangers or crowds.

In school, I was usually scared and overwhelmed. Once during indoor play time, I sat in my own little corner away from everyone and drew on the walls. When my teacher found the drawings I had drawn on the walls, I got scolded. I spent the rest of the day crying and sniffling, not understanding why I was yelled at.

That was when my grandmother decided my imagination was just too big for such a little girl, so she bought me a friend, a stuffed white kitten, to talk to.

My grandma told me that Snowbell was a special friend, and she was always there to listen. So when I was sad, I would hug and talk to Snowbell and felt I wasn’t alone.

Snowbell was there for me through the good days, and the many bad days... She was there when I graduated kindergarten. She was also there shortly after, when I was six years old, when my parents divorced...

Before my parents divorced, my brother Dell and I were very close. He was technically my half-brother. My father, who I was never close with, already divorced a former wife before marrying my mother. Dell was the son of my father and his former wife. His last name was Honne, his father’s last name. My last name is Yowane, my mother’s last name.

Dell and I would always play and sing together. Even though I was clumsy and fail at his games sometimes, he was very patient and would comfort me when I cried. Sometimes my dad would randomly yell at or scold me. When that happened, Dell would always stand up to my dad and protect me. Even when my parents were fighting and yelling so loudly that I got scared, Dell and I would hide together and he would comfort me. He was truly an amazing brother.

However, when my mother and father divorced, my father insisted on taking us with him. My mother refused to let him take us. There was a huge custody battle over us, and eventually, a heartbreaking compromise was made.

Dell was going to go with my father. I was going to stay with my mother.

I just wanted us to stay together. But in the end, we couldn’t.

One morning after sleeping in, I went downstairs to see around half the furniture in the house gone and my father outside in the moving van. My dad was about to leave. He left me without saying goodbye.

But Dell... He waited until I woke up so he could say goodbye before leaving. I cried with such intensity that he turned around. His face right then shocked me. He was seven years old... but had such a grown-up expression on his face... I had never seen such an look on his face before. So much pain... yet so accepting of his fate.

He hugged me one last time without any words, until I stopped crying. Once my tears stopped, he pat my head, and made his way out the door.

I never saw my brother, my best friend, ever again.

Two years passed. I turned eight years old. My mother, now single, talking to her sister, had an idea.

My mother’s sister had a daughter, who would be my cousin. My mom noticed that without Dell, I was very lonely lately. So she proposed to my cousin and I to meet.

My cousin’s name was Miku Hatsune. She was six years old at the time. The same age I was when my parents divorced. The first thing I noticed about Miku was how cheerful she was, and how accepting she was towards me. I quickly became friends with her, and even though she came over only around once a month and I only got to see her those times, we were really close friends.

The day we first met, we played in the backyard. I was still very shy and awkward at the time.

A butterfly landed on a flower nearby, and Miku urged me to try and touch it. I did, and the butterfly flew away.

I instantly burst into tears.

“Why?” I said, through my tears. “Why does everyone leave me? Like Dell? And my dad? Why...?”

“Don’t cry, Haku...” Miku pat my head to try to cheer me up. It reminded me of when Dell pat my head to say goodbye... it kind of calmed me down.

To cheer me up even more, Miku began singing me a song. She taught it to me, and I began to sing it with her.

We began to sing together, and soon enough, we were surrounded by butterflies. We began smiling and laughing. It was a great memory.

“Miku?” I looked at her fondly. “Promise me you won’t ever leave me, okay?”

“Okay!” Miku answered, smiling.

But one day, around three years later...

My mother called her sister as usual... and every single trace of her, her husband, Miku, and even Miku’s little sister Mizu, had vanished without a trace.

When I heard this, I was devastated. I began to wait a little while... but soon it became apparent that Miku and her family were gone... maybe in a freak accident or disappearance... and weren’t ever coming back.

I remember sitting under a tree, and just crying.

After that, I really only had my grandmother. My mom was always kind of distant and neglected me emotionally.

My grandmother, however, was warm and understanding. She was also very fun and always made me smile. She was the most magical person I ever knew, because she always told me amazing stories. Sometimes I wondered how she even thought of them. I always told her perhaps she should become a writer and make them into books.

I was inspired to become a writer myself because of her. I used many of her stories as inspiration, because I thought she needed a lot of recognition. She also always wanted to be a musician, and so did I, but I was always much too shy. My grandmother couldn’t pursue music because of her health condition and age, sadly.

Now that she’s passed, I think I will try to fulfill my grandmother’s dreams in homage to her.

Thinking of these memories may have left me sad... but I’ll at least always have the precious memories of these people in my heart, even though I may never see them again. In memory of them, may I live my every day to my fullest.

#symphony saga #symphony Saga resonate #symphony Saga: resonate #my writing #utau #vocaloid #whimsica #whimsica saga #oc #ocs #fic #life of pastell #writing

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memorylang · 3 years

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Easter: Redwoods, Light | #52 | April 2021

I write from Vegas, having returned after spending most of this spring in Reno. Life has been well. I feel adjusted to being back in the States a year. Every so often, objects and settings still remind me of last year’s evacuation from Mongolia. I still have the interest I’d had in trying to improve the lives of those around me. I still plan to return to Mongolia as soon as pandemic conditions permit.

This month’s blog story reminds me of cycles. Attending a virtual Open Mic Night at the conclusion to this month's “Culture of Creativity Workshops” featuring overseas alumni, I felt called to tell our folks there about this very blog story that I hadn't yet finished. A fellow participant suggested my theme of cycles. I'd spoken of how events that happen throughout time, how our feelings come and go. So here it is—My Easter 2O2I tales of cycles, light and renewal!

Back to Vegas

I returned to Vegas tasked by my father to continue to sort my belongings, tend to the yard and help my older brother and his girlfriend clean the kitchen since their recent move back to the house. Early in March, I’d visited the house with my siblings, and I’d intended originally to spend Holy Week here, too. But my college parish had many functions, including a friend’s baptism, Knights’ service events and opportunities for me to continue to help with the recordings of Sunday Proclamations of the Word. Palm Sunday’s and Good Friday’s were special highlights. Anyway, I'd opted to stay in Reno for Lent’s remainder into Easter’s first weeks.

Easter in Reno

Being in Reno for most of this April instead of in Vegas like last year, I enjoyed seeing trees blossom. A highlight of this Easter season has been its many serendipitous moments. This is also noteworthy because I'd listened to the "Tao of Pooh,” which noted spontaneity as among the good spiritual life’s fruits. A spiritual director had told me something similar not long before I'd graduated college.

Days before Easter Sunday itself (U.S. Year 2, Week 5; April 2–8, 2O2I), I enjoyed getting the opportunity to lector at that Mass. It was a small Mass, but I felt glad to be in person for the greatest celebration of the Christian year since all had shut down last year. Later this Easter Octave, I’d gotten to both lector and serve at a family's confirmation Mass. That too felt lovely.

Serendipity hadn’t stopped there! I’d caught up with an ol’ friend at Rancho San Rafael Park not far from the Uni and later biked with another friend at North Valleys Regional. My bike itself I’d bought from a rummage sale the day before on an unexpected adventure in a U-Haul truck to help our student coordinators collect furniture in the morning after they’d asked whoever could help. Thus, that Wednesday night they’d requested help, Thursday morning I’d joined them to Gardnerville and the rectory, and Friday night I was biking with a friend. The last time I recall riding in a U-Haul was over a dozen years ago when I was 11, my family moved from Indiana to Vegas.

My youngest sister has also been encouraging me to practice my licensed driving by borrowing her vehicle to and from our parish. I’d visited so often that staff offered me a key to simplify visits to my "home away from home away from home." I’d felt touched because I could go on walks around our pretty campus without worrying about getting locked out when I was alone. The flexibility gave me peace recently on my U.S. Year 2, Week 8 (April 23–29, 2O2I), when midday I’d needed to drop by my Honors College alma mater’s office to help print a letter I’d written to graduating seniors for our Honors Alumni Task Force.

Also at church, I’d gotten to participate in a few of our Alpha sessions hosted by a diaconate candidate whom I’d interviewed back in 2OI8 on my diocesan public relations internship. I'd heard about Alpha first back in Mongolia from a kind Evangelical Mongol. Anyway, the diaconate candidate, student coordinators and Alpha participants have been great conversation partners.

Beyond these, our pastor had driven me to my first Pfizer vaccine dose, lent me films and advised my reading! On one occasion, he even let me bring Holy Communion to a friend of mine. Such activities have kept me from feeling too distressed amid research writing and revisions. Parish support has made my “happy contentment” quest kinder.

Redwoods National and State Parks

This year’s Easter Octave concluded for me with another trip with my national parks friends (U.S. Year 2, Week 6; April 9–I5, 2O2I). This trip, I’d anticipated especially. As a young lad in Indiana, I’d felt mesmerized by the photos of massively tall California trees noted in our science textbooks. Thus, from an early age, Redwoods imprinted themselves in me.

At these national and state parks, epic scenery of old-growth forests, mountainous hills and valleys beside the coast astounded me. I hadn’t seen the Pacific Ocean since January 2O2O when I’d flown back to Mongolia from Vegas via San Francisco. I felt surprised by how many months had passed since my last overseas adventure.

At the loop completing the Tall Trees Grove trail, I found a special place. My peers had gone ahead while I stayed behind to take photos, record videos and capture audio. I hadn’t expected to find at the trail’s end a creek filled with still other trees—vast ones, like those that I’d seen in subtropical Asia but different.

I basked in these trees. While taking photos, I also discovered my phone has a virtual reality setting. I tried it out, remembering undergrad extra credit VR photography projects. I’d wanted to journal at least something.

“Daniel!” my peers called from some distance down the path. I couldn’t see them, but their voices echoed well enough. I called back something to the effect of, “I’m here!” I still wanted to get a good fill of this park. Here’s what I journaled:

[11:45 a.m.] Redwood, National Park, end of Tall Tree Grove along the creek zone is this phenomenal section of mossy trees with winding branches. Here I discovered my VR. [A woman paused, passing me, “You must be Daniel.”] 19IO–I96O, so many of these trees that used to be across Humboldt, Eureka, Arcata were cut down. The smells… the scents, the mosses, the ferns, the light. Beyond.

Mid-journaling, I paused because a mid-aged woman who was passing by smiled and acknowledged that I must be the "Daniel" she'd overheard about. I smiled yes and reveled in the gorgeousness that surrounded us. She affirmed and mused how this park’s name should be changed like, “Redwoods and Other Trees and Lose-Your-Brother-in-the-Forest National Park.” She added how in the early half of last century, these very types of trees once blanketed far more Northern California, across the very counties through which my friends and I traveled to get here.

I later journaled again after sprinting much of the uphill trail back to my friends. We then saw the “Lady Bird” Johnson trail, then a confluence of the Klamath River and Pacific Ocean (where there were seals!) and finally Trillium Falls. I’d written this about the final hike:

So hypnotic. [...] Dodona’s Grove* vibes from the Trillium hike after the Falls. Whispers from God. Endlessness.

*The Grove of Dodona is a prophetic forest from “The Hidden Oracle,” a book to which I’d listened amid the pandemic by an author I used to read in junior high and high school, Rick Riordan. While I wasn’t a huge fan of where he’d taken “The Heroes of Olympus” series’ finale, I'd often admired his picturesque locales.

My peers and I left the park by 6:45 p.m. The view from the road on which we departed reminded me of the bamboo forest in 安吉 Ānjí near 杭州 Hángzhōu. I’d seen it in 2OI7 during my first summer overseas and have rarely found comparable places.

Of Redwoods, I journaled too of how gleeful I’d felt to have hugged so many trees. A friend had complimented my writing when he mentioned that I don’t need to take so many photos. I added how photos help me remember what to write. I'll probably share my Redwoods photoset in May.

A carpet of moist, fallen leaves along the paved trails had reminded me of a Sunday morning path that my dad would take my siblings and me through for years at Spring Mill State Park in Mitchell, Ind.

Spring Retreat: Recognizing God’s Light

Beyond Redwoods, I'd stayed behind in Reno chiefly to participate in my college parish's Spring Retreat. This spring the student coordinators held it in Gardnerville, the same location where I'd enjoyed it my senior spring. However, I'd had to leave early from it that year. It was my first and only of the eight semesterly retreats from which I'd left early.

That year, I'd left in order to co-emcee the Diocesan Youth Rally 2OI9. To my surprise, the youngest member on this year’s student coordinator team was likely at that same event when she was a high school student. Similarities like these gladdened me.

I felt renewed. This year’s theme, "Light in the Darkness" (Spring 2O2I), reminded me of "Ignite the Light," (Spring 2OI8), the year after my mother died. This time, however, I’d had more years to reflect and feel greater peace. Similarly, I've felt more peace being back in the States even though I'd prefer to be abroad. God’s light shines every day, in every moment of every person. I can see it.

Writing of seeing things, I’d also seen "WandaVision" and "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" while up in Reno. I’d reconnected too with a Disney-loving college friend to get more Disney+ watchlist ideas. I’d seriously enjoyed the “Into the Unknown: Making Frozen II” docuseries. Both she and my college pastor led me to witness iconic performances by Julie Andrews in both "The Sound of Music" and "Mary Poppins."

Justice

April felt refreshing for a more challenging reason as well. Much of the month had featured on many channels coverage from the trial over the killing of George Floyd. I imagined that this would be a trial that my generation remembers for years.

I’d watched live various testimonies and even the closing arguments. Then, on that Tuesday, April 2O, 2O2I, afternoon, our nation heard the verdict—My pastor called it among the fastest traveling news.

I've been on the Social Justice Task Force of the American Psychological Association’s Society for the Psychology of Religion and Spirituality since last summer. Our Task Force had come together in response to the killing of George Floyd and subsequent renewed pushes across our nation for social justice.

Our task force has been meeting every other Tuesday night, after weekly fed Zoom fatigue. Our meeting that Tuesday fell on the night of the guilty verdict. But, this justice felt cathartic only somewhat. More shootings filled the media. Our task was far from over.

Still, I’d another reason to celebrate. That Tuesday marked my last advocacy meeting on behalf of the National Peace Corps Association to offices of Nevada’s lawmakers this March–April. All told, I’d coordinated and met virtually with offices of the U.S. Congresspeople Horsford, Titus and Lee as well as Senator Rosen. And Representative Titus herself attended our meeting! She was very kind. So, I felt relieved to have finished those duties for now.

Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month

Next month (May) begins Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. I've decided to tell a #StopAsianHate story. Given America's centuries of racism toward Asians, I don't enjoy the subject. But, I’d had an experience on my Week 5I (Feb. 19–25, 2O2I). It reminded me the importance of continuing to tell stories so that we can promote diversity and inclusion.

I was on one of my Reno walks that cold winter. As usual, I'd pass by the local elementary school. I'd paused to check my phone. The time was while children were at recess. They played opposite a chain-link fence a few yards down a hill from where I stood.

At first, I didn't think that the kids were talking to me. So, I paid them little attention. Then their voices sounded closer, in greater numbers.

I hadn't decided whether to acknowledge the children but decided to finish my walk. My walk brought me along the fence. From my right periphery, I saw a clump of children gathering, following. They certainly addressed me.

I heard what sounded like slurs against Asians that I won't repeat here but also questions that I will repeat here.

The kids asked if I was homeless, whether I'm an orphan, whether I speak English. I reflected on these. I was wearing a big scarf from Mongolia, a hefty hand-me-down winter coat and wide, secondhand jeans, frayed at my ankles. But I hadn't spoken a word to the kids.

Their questions themselves weren't offensive. Yet, the children’s tones reminded me of the mocking ones I'd heard in middle school when boys made fun of me for caring more about good grades than getting girlfriends. (Little did the boys know, girls I liked tended toward good grades.)

Anyway, these kids seemed to have negative implications behind positive responses to their questions. This upset me. After all, homelessness, being an orphan and not knowing English are not inherently bad things. For, often, people do not choose to go without a home, parents or American English. So why might these children ask these degradingly?

I felt perturbed by the realization that these children would find pleasure in mocking people who they suspect are without homes, parents or English skills. Yet, from this, I felt a glimmer of solidarity. I'd heard directed toward me what seemed unkind speech. This may help me relate to Asians who hear slurs, to those without homes, to those without parents and to those perhaps struggling with English.

My parents tend to insist too that I buy new clothes, though. Given our world's rampant consumerism, I find second-hand ones quite fine. "Form follows function." I wish that more folks would appreciate hand-me-downs and thrifting.

Nuance

Curiously, as I continued past this chain-link fence, a somewhat pudgy boy of color asked with a wide grin for money for Taco Bell. Truthfully, I didn't have money on me. I calmly answered the questions, not pausing from my walk. I guessed the kids dismissed the homeless guess/joke. I noticed thankfully that they wore face masks. We’re still in a pandemic, after all.

The boy's questions made me wonder about his family life. True, he could have been joking. But I remembered, many of the boys who'd picked on me in middle school had been living in a neighborhood that many people called not a “good” part of town.

In light of the visibility that Black Lives Matter has had in the past year, I've tried to grow more aware of how cruel predominantly White societies can be toward Black, indigenous and other peoples of color. I recalled learning when I was little that, often those who bully had been bullied themselves. Sociology interests me.

Thus, when these playground children said potentially questionable things to me, I wasn't sure whether to intervene about the slurs or micro-aggressions or what I'd say.

As I neared the fence’s edge to complete my pass by the school, I overheard a girl's or maybe a woman's voice call the kids to stop wasting their free time. I'm glad that someone spoke up. Compassion is the answer, especially in light of hurtful things.

I’m still unsure whether my general silence was helpful or problematic. But the experience caused me to think. For, children learn fast. Innocence is invaluable. My generation's problems and those of that above ours replicate in youths the longer we fail to act.

I’m glad that folks are speaking up these days in hopes to #StopAsianHate. Social justice mustn't sleep.

Language Six

On April 2O2I’s last day, I hit my 365-day streak on Duolingo!

Over the past year, I’d focused on Latin, Spanish and Chinese. Having finished every lesson and level Duolingo had for Latin, I started dabbling in German. While I’ve no intention to extensively pursue German (yet, at least), I’ve enjoyed how its lessons help me see from where many non-Latin roots reach English.

I’ve been dipping into my Germanic heritage on Dad’s side again lately. This began about when I’d seen “The Sound of Music” then reconnected with my distant relative who’s researched more of our shared Austrian and Volga German forefathers and mothers. Turns out that my relative had personally written to and received a postcard from the real Maria von Trapp!

I've grown to like more German language. "The Sound of Music" and how Spotify has Disney soundtracks in German help. Besides listening to vocalists like Namika, I’ve also gotten into LEA, Manuel Straube, Julia Scheeser and even Willemijn Verkaik! This is probably just a phase, but it’s certainly fun.

Every language I’ve sought to learn has at least one Spotify playlist. For recent films I’ve seen, like "Mary Poppins" and "Mary Poppins Returns," I’ve cherry-picked tracks in German, Spanish and English. Though I don’t catch most words, I like to consider translators’ decision-making.

Summer Fun

I get my second Pfizer dose on Cinco de Mayo. By then, I hope to have channeled my Julie Andrews-inspired service of making things better than how I've found them. Later that vaccine week, on Mother’s Day, I’ll return to Reno with Tita and Papa.

May 14 will celebrate the Baccalaureate Mass of lovely student coordinators and friends from undergrad. Then comes the 2Ist birthday of my youngest sister and will also mark when I’m fully inoculated, May 19! Pentecost comes May 23. Then will be May 3O, the wedding of two of my undergrad coworkers, including a fraternity brother. We'll have a mini staff and fraternal reunion!

After that, I look forward most to a Seattle trip at my 24th birthday. National parks friends and I are flying up to see Olympic National Park. It’ll be my first time to see further into the Pacific Northwest than Ashland, Ore. My younger (not youngest) sister got a job in Seattle, so I’ll be surfing her couch for part of my visit. Super stoked to reconnect with friends from high school, college and Peace Corps in the city! Even my married friends with whom I'd spent New Year's Eve the past couple years plan to visit me there.

This April my siblings and I reviewed our first scholarship applications for a Foundation that we’d founded to honor our late mother, who was Chinese. So, with next month and the fourth anniversary of her passing, I’ll share Foundation experiences, I think. Along with those, graduations and celebrations await!

You can read more from me here at DanielLang.me :)

#Peace Corps #Mongolia #redwoods #WithMe #Easter #memoir #story #Catholic #God #memoryLang #USA #Coronavirus #COVID-19 #Nevada #California #travel #spring #church #UNR #StopAsianHate

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imagine-avengers · 4 years

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Biker Part One- Bucky Barnes Series

1/10 This is part one of my Biker Bucky series. The other parts can be found on my masterlist once they come out! This is mainly a filler chapter as there isn’t much Bucky in it, but I promise the following chapters will!

Brooklyn seemed like a nice city, but everyone living in the suburb of New York knew it was anything but good. Safe, yes, but not a place where you could be out after sundown on your own. There were multiple rival biker gangs that hung around Brooklyn, one being Hydra, the worst of the worst, they had gangs all throughout the United States, mostly New York and California, they were known for human trafficking, drugs, and arms dealing. They were run by Johann Schmidt, a skeezy older man. Then on the opposite side of the spectrum there was the group called the Howling Commandos, led by two men, Steven Rogers, and James “Bucky” Barnes, more commonly known as The Captain and The Winter Soldier, both men were terrifying in their own ways. Steve took care of the business side of things and was better with people than James, whom was the muscle and took care of the more physical side of the business. The Howling Commandos weren’t criminals per say, more so a cleanup crew or a group whom tried to stop others from doing wrong things. Yes, the group had killed people, but never innocent people, mainly Hydra’s people. They dealt with a lot of charity work, from the homeless, orphans, and even veterans.

For Elizabeth Smith, Brooklyn was the only place she could ever imagine living, it’s where she grew up. Elizabeth went to the same school as the leaders of the Howling Commandos and was even friends with them. After her best friend Peggy began dating Steve, she was somehow pulled further into the life, especially once they hit high school. Growing up Elizabeth and Bucky became close, eventually the two began dating and in the biker world that immediately put a claim on Elizabeth, thus no one messed with her. Bucky and Elizabeth were inseparable until after the death of Bucky’s father, the original leader of the club, besides Steve’s old man who died years prior, once he died, he left the club to Bucky and Steve. With the new wave of responsibility Bucky began spending all his time managing the club and the bar, never having time for Elizabeth, which killed her seeing as they had talked about wanting to start a family after being together for so many years.

After months of distance between them, and a death threat from Hydra, Bucky broke up with Elizabeth saying that he no longer loved her. That very night Elizabeth had packed her things and left town, not to return for five years. Five years can change a person, in five years Elizabeth had finally graduated college with a nursing degree and began working at a hospital in Washington DC, only to be laid off a few weeks ago.

Driving through the busy streets of New York wasn’t something Elizabeth ever thought she’d be doing again, but after losing her job weeks ago she realized she had to make the move back home. With reluctance, Elizabeth had called her brother and asked to move back home to the house they had grown up in. After her parent’s death, they were never able to sell the house, so when Elizabeth had to move back home, her brother agreed to let her live there as it was left to both siblings.

Pulling up to the suburban house made Elizabeth smile. The house looked the same as it always had, from the tan shingles that lined the house, the bay window in the kitchen that had the same small splotch of yellow paint on it from when her mother decided to paint the kitchen yellow. To the messed-up window on the upstairs bedroom, broken gate that caged in the front yard, that had broken after a drunk fight between Bucky and her brother Adam. It was home. As Elizabeth climbed out of the car, she noticed the for-sale sign that her brother had put up ages ago, for a house that never sold. Taking the sign out with a huff she tossed it onto the small porch. Next she glanced four houses away to where there was a group of motorcycles parked outside the house of Steve Rogers.

Elizabeth turned back around and began unloading things from her car and the U-Hall she had. It took her about an hour to unload everything from her car and bring it inside. In the meantime, all the bikes from Steve’s house had disappeared only leaving his. Still having all the stuff in her U-Hall she decided to head back out to grab some of the smaller stuff.

“I see you bought the Smith’s house.” A voice spoke as she was bent going through a box in the U-Hall.

“Is it really buying the place if it was left to me Stevie?” Elizabeth asked not turning to the man at first until grabbing the box she had been going through and giving the blued eyed man a smile.

“Lizzie?” Steve asked as she hopped out of the truck.

“The one and only. How’ve you been Steve?” She asked as Steve leaned behind her and began grabbing a few boxes before following her inside the house.

“I’ve been alright. What are you doing back?” Steve asked setting the boxes in the middle of the living room with all the others.

“Lost my job, been five years, figured it was time to come. Not like I really had anywhere else to go. Adam has a family in Manhattan, and my folks are gone, luckily the house never sold.” She stated with a sigh as she set her own box on the kitchen counter.

“Well it’ll be good to have you around, you should come see Peg, and Emma, god you haven’t seen her since she was three.” He stated and Elizabeth shrugged.

“I dunno Stevie, I don’t think I wanna get involved with my old life again.”

“Lizzie.” Steve sighed. “You and I both know that you’re already involved by living here. I live four doors down, Bucky’s my business partner, my brother, my best friend, Emma’s Godfather, you’re bound to run into him. You’re Peg’s best friend, Emma’s godmother.” Steve and Elizabeth headed back towards the truck. “You’re involved in our lives,” Steve grabbed a box from the truck. “Not to mention, you’re still claimed by Buck.” He mentioned while motioning to the small tattoo that was on her wrist. “And I’m sure his name is still inked on your shoulder.” Steve chuckled as Elizabeth blushed.

“Shut up Steve.” She mumbled stopping at the back of the truck. “I think we might need some help moving this stuff.” She motioned towards the furniture she had.

“I can get your mattress tonight and tomorrow I can have some of the guys help me move everything else.” Steve offered.

“Thanks Stevie.” She smiled slightly. “I’d appreciate it. Is uh, is James going to be at your place today?”

“Nah, he’s in Queens handling business with Nat and Clint, why?”

“You think Peg would mind me dropping in for dinner?” She asked as Steve carried the mattress inside and set it in her bedroom.

“Not at all, she’s making roast.”

“Oh my god, Sunday roast! Yes!” Elizabeth cheered.

The two finished grabbing the boxes Elizabeth would need before heading over to Steve’s house. Entering the almost identical exterior looking house Elizabeth grinned seeing the brunette cooking at the stove.

“Steve you’ve been gone for three hours. You said you were going to meet the people whom moved into the Smith’s place.” Peggy raged on causing Elizabeth to hold back a laugh. “Tell me they’re assholes so I can feel better that it’s not Elizabeth living there.”

“Peg.”

“No Steve, that house has been on the market for years! I can’t believe it finally sold and we haven’t heard word from Lizzie.” Peggy huffed. “I can’t believe she just left and never called to let us know she was okay, what are we supposed to do Steve? Wait around for her to come back? What if she never does!?” Peggy was ranting now, and Elizabeth knew it was time to say something.

“God Peg, didn’t know you missed me so much.” Elizabeth teased causing Peggy to drop the spoon she was using to stir gravy as she turned towards Elizabeth. “Hey Peg.”

“Lizzie.” Peggy covered her mouth before moving towards her best friend. “Oh my god, tell me it’s you, tell me you moved home.” Peggy rambled hugging the small redheaded girl.

“I moved home Peg. Missed you too much love.” Hugging Peggy back, Elizabeth smiled at Steve. “Tell me everything I missed. Where’s my goddaughter?” She looked around and heard the patter of little feet coming down the stairs.

“Aunt Lizzie!” Emma screeched once she hit the bottom step and noticed her Aunt, she was identical to her mother except for the blue eyes she bore.

“Emma.” Elizabeth turned to the girl and embraced her. “Hi Sweet Pea.” She grinned at the girl. “My gosh you’ve gotten big. What are you now, eight? My gosh you’re too big.” Elizabeth smiled before hearing the patter of more feet, her eyes glanced to Steve who grinned as a little boy, blonde hair and blue eyes, the spitting image of Steve showed up at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh my.” She pulled away from Emma.

“Lizzie, this is James.” Peggy stated causing Elizabeth to look at Peggy. “When I went into labor at seven months, Steve had been in California, Bucky was here with me, he delivered James at the club, we couldn’t make it to the hospital, Bucky saved my sons life.” She mentioned as Elizabeth moved towards the boy.

“Well hi James.” Elizabeth knelt by the boy. “I’m your Aunt Lizzie.” James stared at Elizabeth for a minute before grabbing her hand and mumbling something about legos before leading her to the living room. Steve could have sworn he saw Elizabeth shed a tear.

When dinner was over and the kids were in bed, Elizabeth had been sitting on the front porch with a beer and drinking with Peggy.

“You know he still loves you?” Peggy asked.

“I find that hard to believe Peg.” Elizabeth stated taking another drink from her bottle. Peggy took the chance to change the topic.

“You’ve always been good with Emma, and JJ warmed up to you quickly.” She mentioned. “You ever thought of having your own kids?” Elizabeth stared out at nothing for a moment before downing the rest of her beer and setting the empty bottle next to her.

“There’s a ten percent chance of me ever having kids Peg.”

“Don’t say that,”

“I have Poly-cystic Ovarian Syndrome Peg, have for a few years. I have a ten percent chance of getting pregnant and about a five percent chance of actually carrying the baby to full term, I gave up the idea of having kids a long time ago.” She mentioned.

“Love.” Peggy touched Elizabeth’s arm. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Elizabeth took a moment before looking at Peggy.

“I was pregnant when I left.” She mentioned. “I miscarried before I even knew I was pregnant.” She stated. “There were complications with it, I had a cyst in my ovary, and it burst. I was diagnosed not long after. I was in a bad place when I left and that put me farther in a hole. I had no one.”

“You had us love, you know that.” Peggy stated as Elizabeth looked back at the stars.

“No, I didn’t Peg. Bucky is Steve’s brother, always has been, I couldn’t come back, it hurt too much. I was better off on my own. The longer I stayed away, the easier it got, until I could pretend this part of my life never happened, the only reminder I had was my tattoos and the old leather jacket that I never had the heart to get rid of.”

“Bucky may be family, but you are too.” Steve’s voice came from the front door.

“Thanks Stevie, but we both know Bucky came before me.” Elizabeth stood from her spot on the porch. “I should go, I have unpacking to do. Thank you for dinner Peggy. I’ll call you. I’m only a few doors down.”

“Don’t be a stranger love.” Peggy hugged the girl. “Steve, walk Lizzie home.” Peggy kissed her husband’s cheek before heading inside the house, both beer bottles in hand. Steve led Elizabeth towards her house, the silence welcomed them both.

“I’ll be by tomorrow morning with a few of the guys.” He stated. “That way we do this before Buck gets back.”

“I appreciate it, really Steve I do. I don’t plan on making a habit of asking you guys for help,”

“Lizzie.” Steve touched the girl’s arm as they got to her porch. “You’re a Howling Commando, you’re Buck's Old Lady,” Steve teased pushing her arm slightly. “You’re family, you call, we come. You of all people know that.” He stated. “I expect to see you around, you know what’s expected of you because you’re Bucky’s Old Lady, but first, I’d have a conversation with the man, he still lives in the house. We have Saturday Barbecues there, you should try to make it this week, everyone would love to see you. Or come to the bar, or even the clubhouse, but after you talk to Buck, okay?” Elizabeth nodded as Steve hugged her.

“See you later Stevie.” Elizabeth entered her house where boxes were spread out. Grabbing a bottle of wine, she moved about and began unpacking boxes whilst drinking her wine straight from the bottle. By three am she had passed out on the living room rug, the wine bottle empty next to her.

#biker bucky barnes #biker bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes series

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prorevenge · 5 years

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Building an Apartment for Stepson, runs off with everything but ends up owning everything of Stepson in the long run.

Hello Tumblr People. First time posting on this area of the site. I have been reading these posts for a while now and found out recently of a story that my mother told me about my great grandfather. I got more information about this from my grandmother who confirmed the story to me and added more details that my mom forgot about it as this happened when my mom was young. Sorry if this is long but I need to set up details to understand the story well. The summery is at the bottom.

So this is about my great grandfather (who I called Pop-Pop), who was on my mother’s mother’s side. He was a farmer growing up with his 12 brothers and sisters. He had a large family and was the middle child. He quit school when he was in 3rd grade to help out with the family’s farm. After he turned 16 he worked for a plumber who would sell the business to him later on. When he was in his late 20s he met and years later married his wife. His wife (my great grandmother, or MeMe as my mother called her) was from a very wealthy family and was 10 years older than he was. Unlike Pop-Pop, she was an only child and she was a widow from a very young age as she also had an adult son (my great uncle Bob, not his real name of course) at the time. MeMe’s parents didn’t live very long and had died early due to illness along with her first husband (I’m not sure what they died of, I think it was TB).

The fact that she didn’t have to worry about money helped her raise her son as a single mother as she didn’t have to work. When her son was 18 he met a girl at college and they got married within a few months. MeMe didn’t really care for her, we will call Jenny, and she clearly saw that she was just in it for the money as Bob was MeMe’s only child at the time. Jenny was from high class family with money. When my great grandparents got married, she gave birth to my grandmother. It was an unusual birth as MeMe was almost 40 at the time and was very unusual for her to turn out ok.

Pop-pop was a very kind man and even though MeMe had a lot of money, he felt that it was her money and he would still work for a living to provide. They lived very averagely; if you looked at their house you wouldn’t be able to tell that they were millionaires. At the time, they were living in a 2 bedroom house. My grandmother was only a baby at the start of the great depression. MeMe was not affected that much due to it but Jenny’s family was affected as they made most of their money on Wall Street and banks that started closing. Jenny’s father killed himself when he lost all his money and Jenny’s mother soon died after that. Jenny had 2 other siblings who were all older and were on the other side of the country with no way to contact them or get to them, Bob and Jenny were homeless. When Bob and Jenny called, Pop-Pop told them to come live with them, no problem what so ever. When Bob and Jenny came over, Pop-Pop gave them the whole upstairs (pretty much kicking his family out onto the 1st floor) and renovated and added on the house so they could come and go without waking his new baby up. He added an extra bedroom, a kitchen, bathroom, everything. Bob and Jenny were having a hard time finding work (due to the depression), but Pop-Pop told him not to worry, stay as long as you like until you can get back on your feet.

This went on for about a year until one day he noticed that it had been a while since he heard anything. While it was pretty typical to not see them every day, he hadn’t spoken or even heard anything for about 2 weeks. He opened the door that he built between the two living spaces and saw the area empty. The furniture, bathroom fixtures, the stove, everything; stuff that he bought and stuff that they brought with them. He had no clue what happened and called the police as he thought something was wrong. The police caught up with them 2,000 miles away living in Florida. It turns out Jenny’s uncle died and left her with a huge sum of money, pretty much being able to rebuild their life overnight before the great depression. As soon as they collected the money, both Bob and Jenny moved out of the house and took everything with them, including Pop-pop and MeMe’s items.

Pop-Pop was angry. He didn’t care about being paid back, he just wanted his items he had let them borrow and just a good-bye, just let them know that they were leaving or something. If they asked for the items he wouldn’t have had much of a problem but he got no word from them and stole the items. As the stuff was easy to replace, he didn’t want to press charges and drag out the mess. MeMe and him pretty much stop communications with Bob and Jenny due to this.

About 25 years later, MeMe has been tested positive for stage 4 cancer. At this time, my grandmother had given birth to my mother and was living in her own house with my grandfather. After she was tested positive, Pop-Pop and MeMe sold their house (the same house) to live with my grandmother to be taken care of. My grandfather redesigned the basement of his house to have the two living in it. My grandmother had known that she had a half brother named Bob and his wife Jenny but that was about it, MeMe gave my grandmother his last known number. She wanted to at least try and tell them that she had stage 4 cancer and not much time left. My grandmother placed a call in and found out what had happened between the 25 years. Bob and Jenny never had any kids, but they still had her Uncle’s money. One thing about Bob and Jenny was that they were smart with the money and invested in it where as MeMe never invested in her money nor did Pop-pop, they jus t let it sit. My grandmother was happy that she was finally going to meet her brother after all this time. However, they never showed up, even though they said they were going to. My mother said that the first time she saw them was at the funeral. MeMe passed away 2 months later and my grandmother called them to let them know where it was. So they got to the funeral and the first thing out of Bob’s mouth was “So what is in the will?” not even a hello. My grandmother had all greeted them (as she didn’t know the history and why they disappeared, plus my grandmother was too overly nice to family) and was putting them next to the family seating when they saw Pop-Pop.

Pop-pop then said to “Sorry, only family is allowed to sit up front.” Bob and Jenny started to contest when they saw the funeral guide. My grandmother was listed as an only child with nothing saying Bob or Jenny was related. It turned out that both MeMe and Pop-Pop were angry by how they were treated all those years ago so in MeMe’s will and funeral arrangements were made to disown her son. They were strangers to the two. Bob and Jenny blew their top, and while my grandmother tired to cool things down, they left. MeMe’s will left 85% to Pop-Pop and 15% of it to my grandmother, it even made references that Bob and Jenny would get nothing and were disowned. Both tired to fight it but it didn’t work. However, I’m still not done with the revenge; this part is more natural development than anything else.

My grandmother still kept in contact with her brother outside of Pop-Pop’s wishes (Pop-Pop still didn’t tell her what happened since he kept saying that he had no son) and that she knew he wouldn’t approve. My grandmother, my grandfather and my mother even visited them at their house during a vacation. My mother said that he always seemed two-face along with Jenny. They would act nice but it was more of an act, my mother brought this up but my grandmother always shot it down (my grandmother was naïve) and she heard from Bob on what happened between the two. Bob’s story was that after a year, Jenny’s Uncle died and left them money. It wasn’t a lot (a big lie) but enough to move out. When they went to tell Pop-Pop about it, he blew up on them leaving and demanded that he wanted the money to pay for rent (another lie, Pop-Pop never asked for money) for a room that he built them along with the labor and construction of the area. They had to leave under the cover of night to be protected from him and that he brainwashed MeMe into disowning him and only came back because she was dying (which also was a lie, they didn’t show up until the funeral and asked about the will when they first got there, my mother remembers clearly.) Since Pop-Pop owned 85%, he still had the majority of the money. Grandma wanted to give part of her money, but she had since spent a majority of it buying a house and doing major renovations to it. She would give him the money, but it would be after Pop-Pop passed away. Since Grandma wanted to give money to her brother, they wrote up a contract that after Pop-Pop passing the money that Grandma got, 50% of it would go to her brother.

So they waited, and waited…. That never came. What happened is too crazy enough not to tell. By this point when the contact was made my grandmother was in her early 40s, Bob & Jenny was in their mid to late 50s while Pop-Pop was in his 70s. Most of Pop-Pop’s siblings had passed away and his health was always questionable. He smoked cigars, drank and chewed tobacco on top of having bad knees so at the time; we thought he had only a while left to live. He lived to be 103 years old. Bob and Jenny passed away around 20 years after the contact was signed by them and my grandmother and since Bob and Jenny had no kids and Jenny’s other siblings passed away with no kids on their own, their money was given to my grandmother after no one else claimed it since Jenny and Bob had no will (I’m not sure the details of how she did it, but she did get it). My grandmother later on found out that what they were telling her about the house was a lie, as she was cleaning out Pop-Pop’s room, she found the old police records and pictures about the apartment along with Bob and Jenny’s records about how much money they got. All of the money was wasted away years later by Pop-Pop (he got into heavy depression after MeMe passed away. He drank and gambled most of the money away trying to ease the pain) so even if he died later on, Bob would not have gotten much, if any of it. My grandma didn’t know about Pop-Pop’s money until she took over his finances when he went into a nursing home at the age of 102. Yes, at 100 he was still pretty active with his finances.

TLDR; Great Grandfather builds an apartment for homeless stepson, they run off in the middle of the night after an Uncle dies giving the money to stepson’s wife and take everything in the apartment. Great Grandfather and Great Grandmother disown the stepson with nothing in the will. Uncle cons his sister to give him the remaining money, but Great Grandfather outlives Uncle and Uncle's money goes to his sister.

(source) story by (/u/Konacha)

#prorevenge #by /u/Konacha #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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requicms · 5 years

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Name: Lisa

Age & Timezone: 24, (aka old af) GMT+1

What kind of character(s) are you hoping to bring to Northport? Okay everybody, roll up your sleeves because we’re going on a wild rollercoaster that is my character hoarding problem. Meet my little trash children:

henry o’hara

34 years old; northport native; living in lakeview heights

he grew up on a small farm on the outskirts of northport, the oldest brother with three younger sisters

growing up he was the boy sleeping in the barn for fun during the weekends, and naming dogs, horses and kittens alike after his favorite superheroes bc he was a little nerd

after graduation he tried himself as a worker on their farm at first, because that’s what his parents (especially his dad) always wanted, but he gave up on it soon after because it just wasn’t for him. instead he decided to join the army, because that’s a little like being a superhero, right? well, that’s what he thought back in the day.

although that life was far from what he imagined as well, he was not a quitter and pulled through until a bullet just barely missed his heart and he was sent home for good two years ago.

there he bought a small house in lakeview heights that was rundown and needed some serious attention. he’s been renovating it for about a year now. aside from renovating he’s started making furniture with his hands for his family and whoever’s willing to pay at least a little bit for it

he also got himself three dogs named simba, baloo and flounder (because his sisters always made him watch all the disney movies with them).

he lives a very minimalistic lifestyle, he can lie in his winter garden watching the stars for hours (especially because he can hardly sleep thanks to nightmares). also has ptsd attacks at times, but he’s started seeing a therapist a few months ago.

often out running before the sun comes up.

very romantic at heart, but kind of rusty with his flirting skills. will do anything for those he loves.

alec hawthorne

30 years old, oldest brother of three, got two younger sisters

they were mostly raised by a single mom, their dad died of cancer when alec was thirteen.

alec came out as homosexual at age sixteen. his mother and sisters always supported that, even if his mother needed some time to get used to the idea.

he was an amazing football player and got a scholarship for college at the university of alabama.

halfway through college, he suffered from a major knee injury that kicked him out of training for a year, and therefore ruined his chances to pursue the sport and the scholarship.

alec lost all perspective, unsure what to do with his life now. for a while he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and meaningless sex. his sisters were the ones who talked sense into him, and eventually he decided to become a teacher.

he teaches sports and english at northport’s high school, where he returned once he was done with his studies. it is far from what alec envisioned his life to be, but teaching the football team in his free time gives him some sort of meaning back.

noemi milestone

28 years old, northport native, she and her younger brother grew up in whitefield quarter

their mother was a well-known model who settled down in northport after marrying their father, who is a relatively well known politician in northport.

noemi and her brother were never big fans of the lives their parents wanted for them – they liked the money and the lifestyle itself, but they never managed to be the perfect children their parents wanted them to be.

noemi often stole away to attend parties, and she was openly bisexual, much to her father’s dislike. once her brother was old enough, she took him with her. she had a rebellious phase, talking up to her father and doing everything he did not want her to do.

she never fully grew out of that, but toned down her rebellious acts once she got closer to graduation, knowing she wanted to go into music and that her parents influences might help her out.

she had a phase of fame as a musician, it lasted from her 19th to her 25th birthday. then she ended her career, out of the blue for most, but not for her – noemi just wanted to get home to her brother, who needed her.

ever since settling back down in northport, she didn’t really know what to do with her life. she mostly focuses on her social media accounts and blogging, but also gives some singing lessons at northport high for fun, and sometimes pulls out her camera to work out a few hours at the artsy lens.

she bought herself a house in whitefield quarter where she lives with her brother, but hardly talks to her parents.

sofia santiago

27 years old, born and raised in New York City as the youngest sister of three. her mother was never married, but stayed with Sofia’s father.

she is bisexual, and was very open about her sexuality from her sixteenth birthday on. her first relationship was with a girl, but aside of another short-lived relationship with a guy in college, she does not have a lot of experience in relationships, but rather flings and one-night-stands.

while Sofia was always very athletic, her true passion were the stars and she knew she wanted to go into space science for a long time.

shortly after her 18th birthday, an accident turned Sofia’s life upside down. the family was on their way to her grandmother’s birthday celebration. her oldest brother was driving the car, intoxicated – something no one else knew. they crashed together with a truck ( the fault was the truck driver’s, but neither Sofia nor her brothers found out about that until now).

Sofia’s father died in the accident, her mother was left with an aneurysm that destroyed her short-term memory. she forgets everything that happens every five minutes. Sofia herself still has visible scars on her thighs and lower abdomen, but most prominent is the pain in her left leg that survived several surgeries and rehab programs, and stopped her from ever pursuing any athletic career.

her oldest brother vanished into thin air after the accident, and Sofia tried to turn her back on what had happened as well. she went to college, and even made it into the NASA in Washington DC. she worked there for several years, but eventually moved to Northport half a year ago to be closer to her brother again who she stayed close with over the years.

here she works in a much smaller space science program, but actually enjoys that she can focus on her studies. wears NASA shirts and hoodies all the damn time

Are there any connections you’re looking for? I have some connections up on the main already for all four kids, but i’m also looking for best friends (from childhood, high school, nowadays) for all of them ( bcI love some good healthy friendships tbh) and also some exes/ex-flings bc that can always be a fun tension!

Could you see anyone else being interested in Northport? Anyone who sees this should totally check it out and consider applying wink wink

#npt: talk #wow this got so much longer than it was supposed to be #but i can't stop talking about my kids i love them too much lol

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ggukshelf · 6 years

Text

WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN|| chapter 1: Begin!

summary: First chapter of ‘when the sun goes down’. [college!au - werewolf!au]

word count: 5525k.

genre: currently neutral, but will have smut, angst, fluff in the future.

Prologue | chapter 1 | next

“It’s going to be alright, Tae.” You squeezed your cousin’s hand while both walked through the hall of your new life. It was a small apartment you both bought with Taehyung’s inheritance after the tragic passing of his mom 3 years ago. In fact, you felt like you lost your own mother since your biological one never cared enough to even raise you. Both of you started to live as siblings when you were 3 and Taehyung was 5 years old, ever since then you never thought about each other as less than that… brother and sister, and no one would ever be able to destroy that, you promised while crying at the age of 7 and 5 when your golden fish died after you both fed him too much. He always begged for a baby sister, and he was extremely happy to have one. Now you were 21 and he was 23 but he still didn’t stop calling you that.

“Yeah, I hope so.” He laughed it off as if moving in was no big deal. Which in fact, wouldn’t be a big deal to people, but to you it meant so much more than that. It meant you had a new chance, a new beginning and a fresh start for both of you.

“Come on! Don’t be so grumpy.” You let go of his hand while you danced around the room that still had no furniture. “This is such a big deal. We’re finally moving on.”

“Dad’s not so happy about it, though. How can I be okay with that?” Taehyung also walked in, putting down the bag he had with him. “How are we going to deal with him on Christmas after this?” He sighed heavily, walking around the empty room, analyzing the walls and windows and trying to come up with an art in his head to decorate it all. Taehyung was good with graffiti just like your mom and he only truly accepted the idea of buying an apartment when you agreed you’d let him draw all over the walls. Of course, you were a little scared, but that was something you could deal with.

“Tae, dad will understand we have to grow up at some point. I know it is hard for him to let us go, but it would happen eventually, plus… We’re together. We will take care of each other… soon he will see that this is not so bad.” You smiled to him before walking to the kitchen, which thankfully already had its beautiful furniture chosen carefully by you and your girl best friend that stayed back home.

“You don’t really get it, do you? He expects me to take care of you, and honestly… how can I do that when you are always into some mess? There’s only so much I can do to get you out of trouble.” He scoffed joking about all your awful dates, knowing you were already cursing your uncle for entrusting Taehyung that stupid mission, although it was nothing serious. You knew deep down inside why he was always putting that weight on Taehyung’s shoulders, he was scared you’d turn out just like your biological mother; however, your “mess” was nothing compared to your mother’s mess. Your trouble always stood by the broken hearts area, but your mother… well, not even close. Taehyung’s dad was your mother’s big brother, after all, he saw his little sister going into every single wrong path her entire adolescence, and later on, on her adulthood as well. There’s not much he could’ve done anyway, she was in too deep to escape; your biological father had her hooked, he manipulated her ever since she was 16 and he was 26. Unfortunately, your uncle found out about that relationship a little bit too late to get her back. And no matter how much he tried, your mother would always slip away into the bad life again, and because of that, he raised you with his loving wife as his own daughter. And as his daughter, he did not want to commit the same mistakes, although you were nothing like his sister, he always worried about that, sometimes he would be rough on Taehyung when you had your heart broken, because as he always put it ‘your sister is your biggest treasure, she’s your family, she’s your best friend and she is also your responsibility, you have to protect her.’ Which you hated to hear about, and Tae knew it, he knew how much you hated to be always indirectly compared to Nora, the woman who put you in the world.

“We’ll be just fine, don’t worry… let’s just get our things, call the designer to get our furniture ready and let’s make out of this place our new home.”

“This is a fucking mess… TAEHYUNG, we’re gonna be fucking late, hurry!” You tried to organize all of your school material for your first day of college. Not really the first one, just the first in your new college campus. Since you moved out of the small town both you and Taehyung grew up, you had to transfer to your new school.

Taehyung, as usual, wouldn’t give a damn about being on time, but you, on the other hand, didn’t want to get the last sits of your first class. You still weren’t familiar with the campus, so you didn’t really know how much time it would take for you to find it.

“Sis, please… relax a bit. It’s not cool to be on time on our first day.” He winked at you while munching on his cereal.

“Drop the bad boy attitude; you were a fuck boy in a small town, Tae… I don’t know if you’re going to be so lucky with the girls from here.”

“Ouch! You know I was no fuck boy… I was just not really into relationships.” He said dressing his typical black leather jacket. So cliché you though. “Or did you forget my baby sister doesn’t really let me break anyone’s hearts? Plus, my charm is irresistible to any girl on any part of the world.” He smiled.

“You’re lucky you have such a wonderful baby sister.” You scoffed, finally closing your bag after checking all your material. “I’m a grown up now, Tae. You should drop that nickname.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” He put his arm around your shoulder and led you to the exit of your apartment; you’d soon finally start officially your new life.

The campus was tremendously big, and you were a little scared all of a sudden, Tae could sense it when he stopped the car, waiting for you to get out.

“What’s up?” He put a mint gum inside his mouth trying to be sexy for the girls crossing the front of his car, making you roll your eyes.

“Nothing’s up.” You punched his arm slightly.

“You liar. C’mon… Why are you so worked up?”

“I don’t know Tae, look at this place… It’s so big. What if people aren’t that nice?”

“And then you dislike when I call you baby sister… You’re acting silly, again.” He caressed your hair. “You always act like the mature one, but at times like this you show how much of a baby you still are.”

“Oh, shut up. Let’s go already.” You opened the car and got out of it even before Taehyung could blink again. He was not wrong… You were always responsible, but you were also a scared cat. Despite your attitude, deep inside you were always a little scared of things, but you didn’t show it to everyone; as your best friend once told you: ‘don’t let them see, what they don’t need to see’.

“Wait y/n, don’t be so rude to your big brother.” He caught a few freshmen girl’s attention with his deep voice, their giggles caught his attention and soon he was following them and forgetting all about you.

“And there he goes again.” You laughed, forgetting for a few seconds where you were and what you were supposed to do.

“Okay, I can do it.” You breathed in and soon you were walking to the panel containing information about the campus.

Finding your way to your first class was not as difficult as you thought it would be. Luckily your block was one of the first ones of the campus. You were in your second semester of business school, following your dad’s step. But as much as you liked it, your true love was philosophy and as one of the top students of the country, you got into a special program at this campus, allowing you to have philosophy classes as well, even if you pass the test and finish school, you would not have a degree for philosophy though, so you took it just for fun, as your hobby. Taehyung always said you were crazy… he could barely manage his studies with art school, let alone do another one at the same time and just for fun.

You didn’t really have a choice, though. Your father’s business needed to be continued and since Taehyung was following your mother’s steps, you were the chosen one.

Normally in any other family, when Taehyung made it clear to both your mom and dad that he had no intentions in taking over the company, it would’ve been the end of the world. But your parents were different, your family was different. The love your mom had for your dad and for both you and Taehyung was the pillar of your family’s happiness. Since she was a painter, your dad new Taehyung was only following her steps and for him, that alone was incredible. After she died, Taehyung stopped painting, drawing and doing everything he liked; he stopped everything and convincing him to get back to it was not an easy task. But your father and you eventually got him back on his track. On that period of time was when your father first brought the subject up. He wanted you to replace him once it was time, and although you knew it wasn’t your first thing in mind for your future, you could not deny him that… not after everything he had done for you. Not after he raised you with so much love. So there you were, in your calculus class.

What a way to start…

You sat at the first table, trying to avoid unnecessary talk. You weren’t really a talkative girl when it came to strangers. First conversations were way too awkward to handle on your very first day at a new school.

Trying to be unnoticed went really well until your third class of the day, the management one. You sat down on the first table as you did for the last two classes, but this time someone sat there beside you.

“Hello, class. I’m Kim Junmyeon, you can call me whatever you want, Mr. Kim, Professor Junmyeon... After we finish what is programmed for today, you are all pairing up for a project that must be finished before next week…”

The class went crazy after that, of course. What a good way to start having the hate from all the students, you thought.

The handsome guy sitting beside you was one of the few students that didn’t complain at all about the surprise project for next week.

“Ah, you must be the new student, right? I haven’t seen you here before. I’m Seokjin. Jin… as I rather being called.” He gave his hand out for you to shake it, which you found totally weird, but at the same time, cute. He greeted you only after the teacher stopped talking though.

“I’m y/n, nice to meet you, Jin.” You smiled.

“You resemble my little sister,” Jin said out of nowhere, smiling gently at you. “She has round cheeks too.” He laughed.

“Well, is that a compliment or…” You looked to the whiteboard ahead of you, suddenly shy.

“It means you are cute.” He smiled.

Although it had all the odds to be taken as a flirtation, you knew Jin was just being a cutie pie. It was nice not having an awkward conversation, you realized maybe not every boy was as futile as the ones you’ve met back home.

The class went smoothly well, just like your conversation with Jin. You found out he was 5 years older than you, this was his second major, the first one being International Relations. He was good with people you could tell. He told you a little bit about his sister and his girlfriend.

You were happy about the entire class, and when it was over, Jin invited you to have lunch with him and his girlfriend.

You were a little concerned about meeting her, so you almost refused. But he guaranteed you she was the sweetest girl alive and that she would love you, just like he did. This made you blush; only giving him more reasons to call you cute.

“Have I said already how beautiful you are?” That was the first thing Jin said to the girl you suppose was his girlfriend right after arriving at the table in the cafeteria.

She laughed and told him how silly he was, and once he was done pecking her lips, she realized you were there too.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t say hi. Hello, I’m Ellie.” She said smiling. Which you thought was so strange. Where you come from if your boyfriend comes back to you, bringing in a complete stranger, and worse… that stranger being a girl. Well… that was a subject to fight about the whole freaking week, not mentioning how the girlfriend would have made a big scene for everyone to see. So being welcomed like this by Jin’s girlfriend was so nice, that you only wanted to be just as nice to her.

“Oh, you’re saying hi now, so no feelings hurt.” You tried to joke. “I’m y/n, nice to meet you, Ellie. I hope I’m not bothering.” You started to play with your earlobe, something you did whenever you were a little nervous or insecure.

“Nice to meet you too, y/n. Sit down, please.”

At the table there was another boy called Yoongi, as you found out later was Jin’s cousin and also Ellie’s best friend. Jin thought it was outrageous since him and Yoongi had been roommate’s for a few years back on his teens, he thought he deserved the ‘best friend’ tag, but Ellie won Yoongi’s heart better so there was nothing he could do about it. Ellie was talkative, not as much as Jin though… and about Yoongi, well, you were surprised he could talk at all. To be honest, he was a bit scary, his smile was always small and he would never laugh out loud at Jin’s jokes. Which you found odd since you cried because you couldn’t stop laughing. Ellie asked you about your sanity since she was siding with Yoongi about Jin’s jokes. She just couldn’t find them funny at all.

Lunchtime went on nicely, you exchanged a few words with Yoongi; to your surprise, although he looked serious, he also knew how to make jokes. He proved that when they saw one of their friends, the one called Jimin if you were not mistaken, running after the campus’ dog – as they told you, it was a homeless dog that everyone took care of, so he basically lived on campus – because apparently, the dog was carrying his homework paper with his mouth.

Jimin was cute, you thought. His dirty blonde hair fits well with his angelical face, maybe you’d be lucky to properly meet him later; if you and Jin and Ellie continue to hang out after your classes, which you hoped you would. It would be nice to have friends here.

After lunch, you excused yourself from the table and told them you’d like to explore the library. Ellie tried to invite you to go to their house, apparently, Jin and his girlfriend lived together. You tried not to judge, but you couldn’t shake the ‘it’s so soon’ thought out of your head. However, Jin and Yoongi – the latter you didn’t really know why – told her off, saying it was not a good idea. Jin apologized profusely, his ears as red as an apple, so you knew he was being sincere. They had a situation at home that needed to be solved so it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to go there. After realizing what they were both talking about, Ellie apologized and said she would go with you to the library if you wanted, but you also refused, needing some time alone to breathe in the new surroundings. You and Ellie exchanged phone numbers before you said goodbye.

It was a nice morning for the first day, you thought to yourself… and it would be awesome if the day could end just like that.

“We have a party to attend tonight.” Was the first thing you heard Taehyung say after he saw you at the parking lot. He was leaning against his car while there were two girls in front of him, totally ignoring your existence as they talked to each other. You were actually used to it, all the girls acted like this once you approached Taehyung, and they quickly changed their attitude once they discovered you were his sister, but it was too late for you to be nice to them.

“Oh! Really? I thought I told you before we moved in that you should slow down a bit, didn’t I?”

“Ah, excuse me. But… you two are together?” The redhead girl spoke, with an already furious look on her face, but Taehyung was sometimes too dumb to notice how those girls acted.

“She’s my little sister. Why?” He arched his brows at the girl.

“Oh, she’s your sister?” Both of them turned to you and suddenly smiled brightly at you.

“Yeah, I am, and if you excuse us… I have to talk to my brother in private.” You looked fiercely at them, making Taehyung sigh, already noticing you didn’t like them.

“I’ll see you girls at the party.” He winked and both looked surprised to be dismissed just like that. By the look on their faces, they were probably high up in the rank of ‘popular’ girls on the campus.

Ah, Taehyung… what would you do with your brother?

“Please, don’t even start saying you don’t like them… you never like any girl I’m into.” He scoffed, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Okay, I won’t. But that is not true, I really loved Melissa.” You said, provoking him.

“Come here you little brat…” He started to tickle you in the middle of the parking lot, while you profusely tried to kick his ass.

“Ahem.” A cough made you two stop.

“Oh, Jimin.” Taehyung let go of you, actually looking at you to see if your clothes were all in the right places. After all, he was a protective brother, not as much as your dad would like him to be, but he was good enough. “This is y/n, my sister.”

You smiled shyly at him, finally having a full look at his angelical face, enjoying it a little bit too much.

Jimin smiled back and said hello, making your heart jump a little bit. He was so handsome and so perfect, maybe that was every girl and boy’s reaction after looking directly at his eyes while he smiled.

“Nice to meet you y/n, Tae told me you weren’t pretty… I see he’s heavenly mistaken. Maybe you need glasses Taehyung.” Jimin caught your hand on his, and brought it directly to his lips, like someone in the 50’s would do. But before you could feel his plump lips on your skin, Taehyung took your hand out of his.

“Yah, I told you she’s not a girl for you.” Your brother said seriously, but with a playful gaze on his face.

“Excuse me, but since when do you go talking about me behind my back and even tell people I’m not fit for them?”

“Yeah, Tae. Let her decide if she’s a girl for me or not.” Jimin played, stepping into a dangerous territory, because in the blink of an eye Taehyung punched his stomach playfully, but hard enough for him to feel something.

“That’s not what I mean. There’s nothing for me to decide.” You said cutting him off. He had an angelical face, but by the kind of joke he made, he was just like Taehyung, into every girls’ pants and unfortunately you weren’t cool enough to enjoy your college life like every other person seemed to do. You had some issues about being intimate with strangers; Tae knew that, so that’s why he wasn’t worried about you going to a party, he knew you’d only go, drink, dance and have fun.

“See? She knows you’re not fit for her, Jimin.” Your brother said, making Jimin pout. Even pouting he looked sexy, for god’s sake… that boy was made in heaven. That’s the only explanation you could come up with.

“Ok, so… y/n. Are you coming to my party with your brother?” Jimin gave you a small smile, this time; it was an innocent smile… no second intentions apparent.

“I don’t know…’’ You said honestly. You did have a nice day, you studied hard, as usual, so maybe you did deserve a little fun at night, yet you still wanted to check on the next schedule for tomorrow.

“Of course she’s coming. Someone has to drive my drunken ass back home, right, sis?”

“Right.”

“Then it’s a plan.” Jimin smiled and you noticed how close Tae already was with someone. So close that the guy was already calling him like you did, ever since you were little.

The perks of being sociable, you thought.

“Yeah, it’s a plan.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You asked Taehyung, because honestly? This was just unbelievable.

“Yeah! Look at the address, this is the right place.”

“Okay, but this is absolutely ridiculous. This isn’t even a house… it’s more like a-“

“A fucking mansion? Thought so too!” Taehyung stopped the car behind a black Volvo. “You know what that means, right?” He smiled devilishly at you.

“No, not really.”

“The party is going to rock.” He winked before getting out of the car.

Apparently, Taehyung already met half of the campus, because as soon as you stepped inside the ‘house’ everyone was saying hi to him. You on the other hand… didn’t even recognize a single face.

What were you doing there, to be honest?

Taehyung being the nice brother he always was, he sensed your little discomfort and took you by the hand to where the drinks were. Since you were a lightheaded, just one cup was enough for you to let go a little.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.’’ He handed you the red cup and drank his shot of tequila, eyeing the place.

“You came.” The manly whisper at your ear startled you, making you jump and cling to Taehyung’s arm.

“Hahaha, chill. It’s just me!” Looking at the source of the voice you saw Jimin, dressed in all black. He was really handsome; there was no way you could deny it.

“You scared me! Don’t do that again.” You slapped his forearm, feeling more comfortable after seeing someone you already knew.

“She’s easy to scare.” Tae said after giving a “bro” hug on Jimin.

“I noticed!” He smiled.

“Where are your friends, y/n?” Taehyung asked.

“They are not exactly my friends, Tae.” You finished drinking your cup of vodka with sprite in one go, desperately trying to get used to this place full of people.

“Your brother and I are long-term friends, did you know that?” Jimin tried to make small talk, trying to make you feel comfortable.

“What?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell her that. Ah, Jimin… keep her company for a while, I gotta talk to someone.” He patted Jimin’s shoulder and messed your hair before going straight to the blonde gazing at him with no shame.

“Again, what?” You were really confused.

“So, Taehyung and I used to play online games together. We found out that when I caught him playing overwatch at the cafeteria. We discovered each other’s usernames and just like that, found out we are friends for 2 years now… in the game, at least.” Jimin gave you another full cup after telling you the news.

“That’s honestly crazy.” You were shocked. Taehyung was so lucky to have a long-term friend in town.

“Yeah, I also think it is.” Jimin suddenly started jumping to the new song and occasionally he scared the shit out of you, making you spill your drink on your blouse.

“Shit, Jimin. Stop scaring me.” You looked serious, but he was laughing at you.

“It’s gonna be fun having you around, y/n. Now go clean yourself. My room is the third one on the left, go upstairs and get yourself a new shirt if you need, I also gotta talk to someone.” He winked at you before going after a girl that you didn’t bother paying attention to her features. You just wanted to change your shirt as fast as possible.

Terrible idea to dress a white one to a freaking college party.

You tried to remember Jimin’s instructions while passing by the huge crowd of people having fun. Two cups and you were already buzzing… honestly, you had to get better at drinking and you had to do it soon.

“Third one on the right.” You kept repeating to not forget. After getting upstairs you were really confused. There were so many doors, on the right, on the left. Going ahead would lead you to two corridors. Jimin was probably talking about the third one on the right corridor, right? Or was he talking about the third one right after you get on the second floor? You decided to try the first option so you turned on the right corridor. There were fewer doors, and the third door was far away from the second. Maybe Jimin liked to be alone, too.

You opened the door slowly and stepped inside, awed by his room. The walls were painted in black and red… The king size bed was neatly made, also all black. There was a huge computer desk on the left side of the bedroom; the desk had three different types of cameras so you automatically presumed he was into photography. Taehyung liked it quite a lot, too.

You went straight to the bathroom inside the bedroom; you took off your shirt and started washing the drink with the vanilla soap on the sink. Such a nice smell, perhaps Jimin had a good taste for things.

After washing your shirt, you left it at the sink to dry; you could get it later, so you went to Jimin’s wardrobe to find something to wear. Inside it you saw a bunch of black and white ones. A few red and yellow; almost no colorful ones. It suits your taste, you thought. You also liked basic things.

Suddenly you felt a chill down your spine and you covered your chest with your arms, still looking for a nice shirt to wear. After picking a black one with “cooler than you” written on it, you turned around to dress, finally finding why all of a sudden there was a chilling wind going through the bedroom.

“I see you like my shirt, but it’s not nice to break into someone’s bedroom without permission.” A guy taller than Jimin was looking at you, his hair was black and it was parted a little, showing a bit of his forehead; he was also bigger than Jimin in terms of chest and shoulders. He was wider, perhaps hotter. He had big round eyes and his forearm veins were calling for your attention.

“I-I-I am so sorry.” You stuttered.

“Mind explaining why you’re shirtless inside my bedroom? Am I missing something?” His small smile along with his remark reminded you that your chest was on full display for him.

“Don’t freaking look at me!” You yelled suddenly turning around, leaving only your small back for him to see.

“Well, it’s not like I want to… You weren’t wearing a shirt, not my fault.” He laughed humorlessly. “Again, do you mind to explain? I don’t recall having scheduled a date tonight.”

“Oh my god, no! It’s nothing like that. I don’t even fucking know you.” You were exasperated with his insinuations. “I just needed a new shirt because mine got vodka on it and it was a white shirt. That’s all.”

“Okay. So… why are you not facing me? I’ve seen a chest before, you know.” He laughed. You heard his chair squeak, so you presumed he sat down at the computer desk, completely enjoying your embarrassment.

“Not mine. And I’d like it to be kept like that.” You sighed, that situation was ridiculous. “Look, I’ll borrow your shirt and I’ll give it back later.” You didn’t even wait for a reply; you just started to dress it up.

“Sure.” He simply replied, amused by the whole situation.

Once you weren’t only wearing your bra, you turned around and saw his playful smile plastered on his face. What an idiot.

“What is your name, shirtless girl?”

“Why should I tell you my name?”

“Well, you are now wearing something that’s mine. I could’ve said no and you would still be a shirtless girl. How about that?” He joked.

“It’s y/n.” You crossed your arms, sighing.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Jungkook.” After shuffling on his sit, he got up and turned the lights on, something you didn’t realize was off until now. The only light turned on was the bathroom one. Maybe he wasn’t a complete asshole, maybe he realized what was happening and that’s why he didn’t turn it on right after catching you going through his things. “How did you get here inside this room?”

“Uh, actually… I was looking for Jimin’s room. He said it was… well, I don’t remember now.” You kept answering him, although you could have left already. Something about his aura drew you in, something about him was making you curious.

“So you are his girl for the night?”

“What? No! What? No. No. No, it’s not like that. He’s my brother’s friend. I just met him… it’s nothing like that!” You panicked.

“Hey, chill! It’s not a crime to be with someone.” He laughed at your reaction. “Why are you so worked up? Even if you weren’t with Jimin, any other girl if handed the chance would say she’s with him.”

“I’m not any other girl, okay? I don’t like when people misunderstand things.” You said lowly; suddenly feeling bad again for not being able to party hard like the others could. You turned around and walked to the big window he had. Looking at the forest you imagine how good it would be to walk there in the daylight. You always enjoyed nature, you were the only one in the family to actually enjoy being in the middle of nowhere because that’s where this mansion was situated. Taehyung hated it. He said it was too scary to get inside a forest… and although you were the scared cat, for this kind of things you were totally fearless.

“Is this forest only inside your residence, or is there a part of it that’s public?” You asked him, still staring at the trees.

“Why? Are you telling me you’d like to go inside that?” He scoffed, mocking you.

“I’d love to!” You said it with so much passion that you convinced Jungkook in one go. You were definitely not scared, and that was definitely not good.

“No, you wouldn’t. Stay away from that forest!” Jungkook said firmly, making you turn back around to face him.

“What?” You couldn’t believe this guy you barely met was giving you orders.

“I told you to stay away from that forest and I mean it.” His fierce eyes suddenly sparkled with a reddish tone and you were surprised. Maybe two cups of vodka were your limit, maybe next time you shouldn’t drink at all.

“I know you’re trying to scare me, but stop… you failed.”

“I warned you… now get out of my room.” Was all he said and being caught by surprise with his rude remark made you blushed immediately; suddenly you dropped your attitude and came back to being shy, but as your friend said ‘don’t let them see what they don’t need to see’, so you put on a façade again.

“Sorry about invading your room.” And after that, you left almost running, feeling a little suffocated by his presence.

You didn’t know what about him made you feel like that, his strong personality, his fierce eyes, his tall figure, you didn’t understand at all, but Jungkook had caught your attention and that was dangerous. Just like that forest.

***

chapter 1 | next

Don’t post it anywhere else.

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baronessblixen · 6 years

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Not sure if this is the kind of prompt you'd like, but I trust your fluffy genius! Sooo... my prompt is that their now 8 year old daughter comes home from school upset one day. Turns out the other kids in class were making fun of her because her dad is "old". How would 64 year old Mulder handle that one? ;)

Sorry it took me so long! It was extremely hard to write and I’m not sure how it turned out. I hope you like it anyway. Earlier today @frangipanidownunder tackled the same prompt. Everyone go read that one as well! Tagging at @today-in-fic

An angry thumpannounces her arrival. The backpack bangs against the wall and Mulder is up inan instant – she knows she's not supposed to throw it, or anything else, insidethe house. They had to state that rule, as well as every other one, veryspecifically. Because the youngest Mulder knows her way around the rules.

"KatherineMargaret Mulder, you know that-" The full name treatment is what Scullyusually does. Mulder, they all know it, is more or less useless in serioussituations. The girl, just about to storm off, stops and stares at him. She hasher arms crossed and looks like a tiny version of her mother. Except for thedarker, longer hair and his own stubborn chin.

"I have myreasons!" She yells and stomps off into the living room where she plopsdown on the couch. Mulder follows her, quietly amused. Scully tells him thatshe's all him, going off at every chance and at the slightest inconvenience. Ifshe's like this at eight years, what are they in for once she becomes ateenager? He chuckles; he can't wait to find out.

"Care to tell mewhat happened, peanut?" Mulder sits across from her in one of thearmchairs they bought a few years ago. Jackson pointedly called them 'oldpeople furniture' when he first saw them. That earned him an eyebrow from hismother, but the children still jokingly call them that.

"Daddy, are youold?" Mulder is glad he's sitting down. That's one question he didn'texpect. But their daughter is not one to beat around the bush. She talks a lot,always has, and speaks her mind. Always. Another thing Scully tells him shegets from him.

"Am I old?"He asks just to make sure he's understood her right. Katie nods.

"The kids atschool say you are. They say you and mommy are old. Like grandparents old. Whatdoes that mean, dad?" He's feared this conversation for years and he'shoped he still had more time. Katie stares at him with her curious eyes. She,unlike him, is not worried; she just wants to understand. A few years backwhile at the store, another mother referred to him as Katie's grandfather. Whenhe corrected her, both of them blushing, he felt old. Never in his life had hefelt as old as that moment. It passed, was forgotten when Katie, still atoddler then, giggled and squealed. But every once in a while, when someonelooks funny at him, when they pause and swallow hard once they find out who heand Scully are, how old they are, he remembers.

In the early days ofthe pregnancy when uncertainty and fear ruled their days and nights, he andScully imagined moments like this one. All the what if's. What if somethinggoes wrong? What if we're too old to do this? What if we can't keep up with ourchild? What if one of us… even now, years later, Mulder doesn't want to thinkabout it. There was another what if, one he doesn't want to think of now as helooks at his daughter. What if we're not going to have the baby? They spokeabout it exactly once. It was a Sunday, sunny and friendly. Scully was sick, sovery sick with morning sickness, and he uttered the words as he rubbed herback. What if, Scully. They looked at each other then, tears and doubts sharedwithout a single word spoken, knowing that it wasn't a possibility, not really,not for them. No matter what the circumstances.

"Daaaad."Katie's eyes grow big and impatient; she doesn't have the time. She can't wait.Not for dinner, not for her birthday and most of all not for an explanationfrom her old man. There's that word again: old.

"It'scomplicated, Katie." She groans and throws herself against the couchcushion. "It really is." Mulder tells her and puts a hand on herknee. Try again, her eyes seem to say to him, not good enough.

"You do know howold your mother and I are, right?" Katie thinks about it for a moment andhe is certain can see her count in her head, then nods. "Do you know howold Josh's parents are?" The boy is her best friend and Mulder knows thathis parents could almost be his children. Almost. Katie shakes her head."What do you think? Are they as old as I am?" He holds his breath,waiting. Katie furrows her brows, stares him up and down, examines him.

"I don't know. Josh'smom is home a lot like you, but that's because of the baby. Josh's dad is badat baseball and soccer." Mulder suppresses a grin; this is not the momentto make fun. "Is he older than you are, dad?" Katie's question isgenuine, but for the first time he sees the spark of something else in hereyes. Uncertainty, he thinks. He wishes Scully were here. He might be good atbaseball and soccer, but right now he feels useless. He's 64 years old. He cando this.

"No, honey. I'molder than him." Much older, he thinks, but doesn't say it. Confusionwashes over Katie's face and she stares at him, still waiting. As the pregnancyprogressed, Scully would remind him to take it one day at a time because theydidn't know what might happen tomorrow. But with each passing day, Mulder beganto feel more and more thankful. It was a second chance. He watched Scully'sstomach grow and he recorded every little change. He was there for everydoctor's appointment, held her hand through the first sonogram, through thefirst test results – everything. This time he was there for it all. A bittersweetsensation knowing what he'd missed the first time. When Jackson came back intotheir lives Scully was four months pregnant. One night Mulder found their sonin the living room browsing through a baby catalogue. He looked up sheepishlyand Mulder sat next to him, neither of them saying a word for the longest time.'It's too late to buy a crib for you, but there's a bed for you here always. Welove you, Jackson, and you're part of this family.' That was that. In the end,it was a second chance for all of them.

"So you are old?"Katie reminds him not to get lost in his thoughts and memories, but to be herein the now. He nods. He wishes he wasn't. Oh, how he wishes Katie had comealong ten years earlier. Mulder still dreams that Jackson grew up with them,free from pain and terror, and that Katie was born a few years after herbrother. A picture perfect family. He wakes up from that dream, always. Theirlife, their real life, is good; of course it is. He wouldn't trade it foranything in the world, now. He and Scully are, against all odds, healthy. Shemakes him have regular check-ups and if he's reluctant every once in a while,she just gives him a look. She's right. They have plans in check, financial andotherwise. If anything were to happen to them, Jackson would get custody. Allthese things loom above them just like heart attacks, arthritis, dementia. Hedoesn't want to think about it, wants to just live. For Katie's sake he has tothink about all of it. They've been lucky until now. So very, very lucky.

"Does that meanyou can't play baseball with me anymore?" Katie's voice breaks, soundsimpossibly young. Mulder engulfs her in his arms, holds her as tightly as hecan. She sobs into his shoulder and he rubs her back soothingly.

"Don't worry aboutthings like that, Katie. We just played baseball this weekend, didn't we?"She nods against him and wipes her nose on his shirt. "See? I'm not tooold to play." But he remembers falling asleep watching a movie that night.When it happens to Scully, even after all these years, he just smiles. She'sbeen falling on asleep on him for 30 years. He's used to it. His own exhaustion,the little aches and pains, are newer to him, but even they feel familiar now.There will come a day when lifting a bat will cause too much pain. When histhrowing arm will give in. He just hopes that it happens once Katie is grownand no longer interested in playing. He knows he will do everything in hispower to make it so.

"As long as youcan play baseball, dad," Katie wipes her nose again before she looks athim, "you're not too old. I'll tell everyone tomorrow. They got it allwrong." She assures him and he smiles, thanks her with a kiss on her cheek.It should be him taking the fear off her mind, not the other way around. Mulderopens his mouth, ready to say more, when the front door opens. Katie jumps up,accidently kicks his shin, and runs towards her mother.

"Mommy!"Mulder hears as he rubs his throbbing shin. "Daddy and I were just talkingabout how old you two are." He chuckles from his place on the couch. Amoment later, Scully's head pops around the corner and Mulder forgets time andspace looking at her. No matter his age, no matter her age, this has neverchanged; it never will. Right now he doesn't feel like he's 64 – and shedoesn't look like she's 61, ever. When he's with Scully, he doesn't feel old. Helooks at her and sees his whole life.

"Are you allright?" Scully asks him, amusement swinging in her voice. He nods.

"Katie kicked myshin by accident. I will be fine."

"Oh, I was soworried for a moment." Scully says and walks over to him. She leans downto him and kisses his lips softly. "What was that talk all about?"Her voice is softer now, quiet. Katie is in the hall, talking to herself,mumbling about homework. Mulder loves listening to her, but Scully's gaze isinsistent.

"She asked me ifI was old. I tried to explain, but… you know." She nods, seems tounderstand.

"We knew thatmight be an issue one day."

"I thought oneday would be much later. Or never."

"You always wantto believe." He receives another smile, another soft kiss. "How didshe take it?" Before he can answer, Katie strolls back in. She's grinningfrom ear to ear and crawls into Mulder's lap.

"Mommy, guesswhat! Daddy is not too old to play baseball!" She exclaims in a bubblyvoice. Scully gives him a serene look; maybe he hasn't completely screwed this up.She smiles at her daughter, tries to tame a strand of stubborn hair by tuckingit behind her ear.

"That's the mostimportant thing, isn't it?" Mulder decides that it really is, in the end.

#i wrote a thing!#not exactly baby fic as the kid is older #but it's *that* baby #dad mulder #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic #agentelmo

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readonline · 3 years

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In the back of my closet is a small cardboard chest with brass handles and latches that has followed me to every new address; it’s the first thing I find a place for as the moving truck pulls away. An old sticker on the bottom says it was purchased at Ross for $26.99. The only remaining contents are three wrapped presents marked in my mother’s tidy cursive: “Engagement,” “Wedding” and “First Baby.”

My mother, who put her business degree to use running a small nutritional beverage company with my father in Santa Rosa, Calif., while raising my older brother and me, was always prepared. By day she made marketing slogans, distribution strategies, five-year plans. By night: bubble baths, pillow forts, bedtime stories.

She and I had the same February birthday. Each year my parents arranged elaborate parties. She once spent a week making a school of origami fish to swim through tissue paper seaweed across the ceiling of our dining room.

When I was 3, she learned she had advanced breast cancer and immediately began to prepare by researching every available treatment: conventional, alternative, Hail Mary. She flooded her body with chemotherapy and carrot juice.

Each day, she would sit for hours at our long oval dining table, her straight dark hair tied back, surrounded by piles of paper, studying dense, technical paragraphs.

“Medical research,” my father said as he shepherded me from the room.

She was always looking for a way to survive.

When I was 7, the materials on the dining table began to change. Wrapping paper and ribbons took the place of her highlighted pages as her arms worked busily under the dark fuzz of her shorn head. Scissors swished through gift wrap. Paper creased under her fingers. Ribbon cut to length with one snip. Knots came together with a tiny creak. Swish, crease, snip, creak.

She had begun assembling two gift boxes: one for my brother and one for me.

There was a rhythm in the room. She bent closer and closer to write the labels as her vision began to fail, a result of the cancer having spread to her brain.

Inside, she packed presents and letters for the milestones of our lives she would miss — driver’s license, graduation and every birthday until the age of 30. When the boxes were full, my father carried them up to our rooms. She died 10 days before our shared birthday.

That morning, when I turned 12 and she would have turned 49, I woke up early. The box sat three steps from the foot of my bed. Just as my mother had shown me, I lifted the latches and opened it.

Neat rows of brightly wrapped presents glowed like the spring tulips that were just coming up in the front yard. I opened the package marked “12th Birthday” and found a little ring with an amethyst at its center. A white card curling around the present read: “I always wanted a birthstone ring when I was a little girl. Your Granny finally bought me one and I loved it more than I can say. I hope you like it, too. Happy birthday, darling girl! Love, your Mommy.”

I slid the ring on and traced her writing with my fingertip. Her words, written to bridge the gap between us, cut through space and time.

When I got my first period and couldn’t bring myself to talk to my father about it, a four-page letter from my mother (marked “First Period”) laid out practical advice: “Take time to make friends with yourself. Take time to learn what interests you, what your opinions and feelings are, find your own sense of the world and which values you hold most dear.”

As I read, I wanted to fall through the white, lightly textured page and into her arms.

“Please try not to lose yourself,” it continued. “These are challenging years. Call on me for help when you feel confused.”

On the morning of my high school graduation, a strand of pearls made a sound like a maraca as I drew them from the box. Her note read: “There seemed to be a tradition in my family that when girls graduated from high school, they received a string of pearls. Well, my string of pearls never arrived.”

That’s because my mother, bound for adventure, skipped her senior year, and bought herself these pearls when she finished business school. She wanted me to know there was more than one path to walk through the world, and that I deserved to be celebrated. I wore the pearls that afternoon as I crossed the football field to accept my diploma.

Year after year, my mother traveled forward in time to meet me, always in the guise of a little package with a pink ribbon and a little white notecard: “Happy 15th!” “Happy 16th!” “Congratulations on your driver’s license!” “You’re a college girl!” “Happy 21st!” “Happy birthday, darling girl! Love, your Mommy.”

Each time I opened the box, I could, for the briefest moment, inhabit a shared reality, something she imagined for us many years ago. It was like a half-remembered scent, the first notes of a familiar song, each time, a tiny glimpse of her.

When I was a child, opening the next package felt like a treasure hunt. As I grew older, it began to feel like something far more fundamental, like air or community, something like prayer. Her messages met me like guideposts in a dark forest; if her words couldn’t point the way, at least they offered the comfort of knowing someone had been there before.

A decade after I lost my mother, my father followed suddenly. She had spent years preparing her exit, but with him I blinked, and he was gone. The morning of his memorial, the box stared back at me with nothing to say. There was no letter for this.

I tried to conjure her voice but couldn’t. My father left no clues or letters. The only parenting I would have, from 22 on, was in the box.

When I hit 30, the nearly empty box sat in my Brooklyn apartment, clashing with the furniture. Only those three packages remained: Engagement, Wedding, First Baby. They sat in their shiny cardboard and pink ribbon, expectant, waiting.

The problem was, I didn’t know if any of those things would happen. I didn’t know if I would choose them.

I had been living with someone for three years. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to get married, but I was in a committed, loving relationship, and whatever advice my mother had about committed, loving relationships, I wanted it. Now.

I felt 12 again, and rebellious, as I pulled out the thick envelope marked “Engagement.” My fingertips felt cold as I opened it.

It read: “My dearest little girl, of course you aren’t so little anymore as you read this but, you are little as I write. You are only 7 and I am facing the terrible sadness that you will be growing up without me.”

With the smooth pages crinkled in my grip, I found her hopes for what my marriage might look like.

“A true marriage is a marriage of what is most sacred in both of you. One must have an ease about both giving and receiving, a capacity for forgiveness for oneself as well as for the other, a personal sense of balance that is not dependent on the balance of the other, a kind of loving detachment.”

I didn’t know if I was capable of loving detachment. There was no detachment in the love that made the box, and no detachment in the love that opened it.

“I’m so sorry to be leaving you. Please forgive me. I know a box of letters and tokens can’t begin to take my place, but I wanted so badly to do something to ease your way through the future. Love, your Mommy.”

For 20 years I have pulled mothering from the box, but I don’t know if the next 20 will include the milestones she planned for me. I often wish I could lift the latches, jump inside and ask her which path I should walk and how I will recognize it. I want to ask if the life I’m carving for myself looks anything like she would have hoped. But I know this time travel only works one way.

After I read the engagement letter, I put it back with its unopened package and closed the box. Those three final secrets will remain secrets, for now. Maybe I’ll open them tomorrow, or in 10 years, or 20.

There’s comfort in knowing there’s a little left in the box. My mother’s gifts, her letters, are a constant reminder that I have already been given what every child, what every human, needs: I have been fiercely, extravagantly, wildly loved.

#nytimes #modernlove #essay

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blankdblank · 7 years

Text

X-Men Crossover - Pt 2 - Finding Bilbo

… Pt 2 - Finding Bilbo … You easily found your way to the large green door, taking a deep breath of the crisp air and pausing at the open gate. Logan chuckled and gave you a gentle push, following after as you slowly stepped up to the door, taking another breath then raising your hand to knock on the door when it swung open, causing the small Hobbit to fall backwards when he spotted you both.

You quickly stepped forward and helped him to his feet as he gave a nervous chuckle, “Sorry I wasn't expecting company.” “Not at all, entirely my fault I frightened you.” He turned and offered his hand, “Bilbo Baggins, Pleasure to meet you.” Glancing nervously between you and Logan, cautiously eyeing your basket before looking back to you. “Jaqi Howlett, and my brother Logan Howlett.” He gave him a small nod as he glanced back at you. “So, um…I was just going to sit out for a smoke.” Glancing up at Logan, apparently nervous of his non overly friendly presence. “Would you care to join me?” You both nod, “Sounds lovely. Oh we have deserts, bought them in Bree, would you like some?” “I would, Thank you.” Taking his seat on the small bench as you both sat your bags down next to the stones next to the bench and sitting on the stones, setting the basket down in front of you three. Bilbo smiled as he took a dessert and filled his pipe after taking a bite, then lighting it and blowing out a puff of smoke. “My Mother used to make these for me, when I was little.” Both of you helping yourselves to one each then Logan pulled out his cigar as you pulled out your smaller and thinner cigarillo, lighting each with your lighters, smiling as he glanced at your strange rolled smoking sticks that smelled just like Hobbit tobacco as it burned. “Where did you get those?” Logan answered, “Back home. Long way from here.” “Do you miss it?” Logan, “Not really.” You, “We actually wanted to talk to you about that.” Bilbo, “Hmm?” As he took a bite of his dessert, finishing it and grabbing another. You, “Well, there was sort of an explosion, and um…We sort of fell just a few miles from Bree.” Bilbo glanced over at you curiously, somehow not overly shocked at your story, as if he had heard of people just falling into this world frequently, “So you were sent here then?” You, “If we were it’s news to us. But in our world, everyone knows that if you find yourself in the Shire you have to stop at BagEnd. Then start your Journeys from there.” Bilbo, “My home is that well known?” Logan, “You have no idea.” As he shoved another dessert into his mouth. Bilbo, “So where will you go from here?” You, “Well, I was hoping we might be able to stay here, at least for tonight. We can pay you for our stay.” Bilbo smiled at the thought of company, he had been alone since he lost his parents, he nodded and said, “Alright, sounds like a fair plan, would you mind telling me about your home?”

You both ended up bonding with him quickly, both easing him into your abilities. Assuring him you meant him no harm, and informing him that, “Should you ever find yourself heading off for an Adventure of your own, we would be grateful to protect you.”

Later that day you and Logan headed to the market to purchase more Hobbit tobacco and rolling papers, on your way back your conversation runs back to your old world. Logan, “So how pissed do you think the Professor is, one a scale of paper cut to destroying the Universe?” You, “Close to destroying the Universe. But he can complain all he wants, I’m much happier here.” “Same here.” You let out a giggle, “I just thought of something, Victor won't be able to find us either.” Logan let out a laugh, “Oh I would love to be able to see his face when he won't be able to find me on my Birthday. Over 150 years he's been following me to prove he's stronger than me, what ever will he do now?” You chuckled as you ran your fingers over the tracker imbedded in the solar of your uniform, a thought repeating in your mind, Logan sensed the change in your pulse and asked, “What is it?” “The trackers, in our suits.” “You think they could use it to take us back?” “Possibly.” He nodded, “Then one thing to do. Let’s destroy them and bury them.” Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, “We are staying.” Kissing the side of your forehead. “Every other time we started over, it was my choice. It’s my turn to return the favor. Besides, I am loving the silence in this world.” You returned to Bilbo’s house, walking through the yard behind the house, each removing your trackers and smashing them with a stone then burying them under the stone, being careful to return the stone back to its original place.

…

Back in the Mutant Academy

Professor and the teachers and students are frantically searching for an answer to return you both back home. After hours of searching he slowly rolled through Logan’s then your room, noticing the empty drawers and closets, leaving no trace of your being there. As he left he spotted the paper on the printer, curiously grabbing it and reading it as Storm entered the room. Storm, “Professor?” He frantically flipped the page over hoping for more words on the other side, mumbling, “This answers nothing!” Storm, “What?” “Jaqi typed the introduction to her history that I asked her for. It’s vague, no details. I have thousands of questions and now I’ll never know unless we get them back.” “What happens if we can’t?” “We have to try.” “What questions could be so important?” “She knew Kings.” Handing Storm the Intro, “Her adopted Father was a King of Sparta, almost 200 years she spent there. She was alive when Alexander the Great was conquering the world, he visited Sparta countless times, she would have known them, their likes, their dislikes. How they looked, walked, spoke, if they hated apples. How many times they said the world moments, how they held their spoons, how the world really took to the invention of the fork. There is so much we could learn from her.” Making Storm roll her eyes as he kept mumbling out ridiculous questions he never got to ask you.

Over the next week he had finally gotten it rebuilt with the help of Magneto, declaring a ceasefire in their war, who even though he had tried to kill you and Logan several times, respected you immensely and was going to miss your presence greatly. Through his imprisonment you had visited him several times, knowing he would lose his mind with the solitude. With his great mind he needed someone with great intellect to keep him company, both bonding over your pasts, sharing several stories of your lives since the 1940’s.

Finally achieving the impossible, standing back as they fired up the machine again, only to have the professor gasp as your broken trackers, covered in a handful of dirt fell on the floor ahead of them before a stone landed on top of them. The Professor let out a quiet groan as he dug through the dirt uncovering the trackers, holding them in his palm as he stared at them intently, refusing to admit that that was his only chance. All of the teachers leaving him and Magneto alone to accept your fates as Beast shut down the machine.

Magneto looked at the trackers, smiling slightly as his eyes twinkled, remembering your yearning for a quieter world, “Perhaps they've found their perfect world. Jaqi had told me years ago that she wanted to live a simpler, quieter life, more like the world she was born into.” “How am I supposed to just let go of them?” He rested his hands on his old friends shoulders, “We remember them, and the life we shared. She told me once, all she could do to pass on after losing her family, was to tell herself to keep breathing and keep looking ahead as she held them alive in her heart.”

…

Back at BagEnd The next day

Bilbo is showing the two of you around his property, showing you both his gardens and telling you the Hobbit way to tend to plants to make them grow to massive proportions. Stopping suddenly as he spotted a small hole in his yard, where you had buried your trackers. Bilbo walked over to the hole, walking around it in a circle, then stopping and resting his fists on his hips letting out a huff as he stared at the hole. Muttering out, “Lobelia!” You walked over slowly, “Lobelia?” He turned back to you both, his face lightening up from his scowl, “My cousin, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Always taking what isn’t hers. First my spoons now my dirt, and my favorite stone. That was one of my favorite stones. The first time I held hands with someone was near that stone.” Quietly you collected a small plant from one of his pots inside, which he had meant to replant ages ago, then settling down for second breakfast. You both definitely loved his new part of your new lives.

… Both of you adapted to your new lives, but the main difference being you were both practically weightless. Since Logan became Wolverine as his bones were fused with adamantium, the metal had been slowly poisoning him, drawing most of his healing abilities towards reversing the effect of that, and also making him a few hundred pounds heavier. Your Metal form was revealed to be a purer form of adamantium, with its purity it had been more difficult for Magneto and other super villains to use it against you. With your weight, the both of you found yourselves very careful with where you sat, making the Professor to get industrial strength furniture for you both. But you still chose to stand mostly, or to sit on the ground out of habit, having dealt with this for most of your lives.

A few years after you had joined the Academy Logan had been attacked by a super villain. He had injected him with a toxin that latched onto his Adamantium bones, nearly killing him, leaving only one solution for you. As he laid there screaming on the floor you ran over and started to remove his adamantium from his body as gently as you could. His screams subsided as he saw you kneel next to him, telling him, “I’m sorry, I have to remove your Metal.” He looked you in the eye grunting out, “Do it.” As he started felt another wave of pain run through his body, you ran your hand over his face, knocking him unconscious, nearly comatose to keep him from the pain. Cutting his forearm with your nail and drawing out the metal, repeating the same on each limb then cutting his chest near his collarbone, removing the last and watching as his body healed. The venom had latched on completely to the Metal running through his body and nowhere else, making it a nearly instantaneous healing afterward. You ran your hand over his face again waking him up, giving him a kind smile as he lifted his hands, feeling the difference in his weight and feeling his body healthy again. Logan, “You got it all!” Sitting up to hug you. “Of course I did.” His eyes dropped to the giant chunk of discolored Adamantium next to you, “All that was inside me? No wonder I was so heavy.” “He definitely didn't waste any energy on making it purer before fusing it to your bones.” He looked at you curiously, “What do you mean?” “It’s not pure, it’s only 70% Adamantium, the other 30% was what was poisoning you all this time and why it was so heavy.” “So if it was purer, It would be healthier for me?” You looked back at his eyes tilting your head slightly to the side, “You want to do it again?” “I can protect you better when I have it, my bone claws break too easily, so do my bones. Besides, I kind of like the weight. Would you do it?” You opened your mouth slightly then closed it, taking a few breaths then said, “Alright, but your going to be unconscious when I do it, Your body doesn't fight against me when your out of it, and it will spare you most of the pain.” Over the next hour you collected the Adamantium you had drawn from your veins over the years from the trunk in your closet, as Logan waited on your bed, preparing himself for the procedure. He glanced at the amount of Mithril you had pulled out, matching the size of the former block, but shining far brighter, as he laid back you waived your hand over his face putting him into the same state as before and slowly giving him a cut on each limb and working the Metal back into his body. Waking him again and watching as he lifted his arms again, drawing out his new claws, staring in awe at their new shine and sitting up realizing the difference in weight. “I’m lighter.” “I used the whole amount, it covered your bones better than before, your bones shouldn't break nearly as easily now. We should still do an X-ray to be sure I got it all covered.” He cut his arm from his wrist to his elbow, watching as within moments it healed, gasping, “Woah, I'm healing faster now.” The X-ray confirming that the Metal had covered him better and the scale showing he had lost half the weight from the Metal before. Thoroughly pleased with his new addition and with your skills.

Pt 3

#X-menCrossover #Bilbo #BagEnd #SmokingHobbit #Thranduil x Reader #lotr #hobbit #Thranduil x Reader OC

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kiramaewrites · 7 years

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Day 29: 731 Words

Some of the days, to work out my... feelings, about things, I haven’t actually spent writing on my fics. Instead I do a bit of journaling, using prompt words. In the past month I have written about broken promises and righteous anger, about inspiration and about love. One day I wrote over a 1000 word confession about the first girl I ever had a crush on, a thing I have always known and never told anyone. Today it was a meditation on an ordinary object in my life that holds more meaning to me than I thought I could express. But I think I did alright. It feels personal, but I decided, I’d like to share it. The world as we know it is changing, rapidly, and it’s hard to guess what it will be like in the future. If I’m going to be remembered for something, I’d like it to be my words.

Day 15: Books

I have had this bookshelf for as long as I can remember. It probably hasn't always been in my room, but it feels like it has. It probably once held something other than my books, but it seems like it always has. When in my life did I ever not have books? I must have come out of the womb with my arms full of them, and a pair of smudged glasses on the tip of my nose. If you don't think that's possible, you probably haven't met my mother.

It's not fancy. It's got a piece of cardboard nailed on for a back, and I think the nonadjustable shelves are some kind of artificial wood composite. It was probably white a long time ago, but it's yellowed with age. It's stained with candle wax and coffee rings. It's ugly. It's mine. I love it.

I used to share my room with two sisters. I suppose, back then, it held all our things on it. I only had a handful of books that were my own, one shelf that was just for me, though I can remember borrowing books off the big black bookshelf in my mother's room. Now that I think about it, there were two shelves in my parent's room. Mom's books and Dad's books. There was a bookshelf in my brother's room, too, with their own assortment of Hardy Boys novels and video game guides. There were shelves in Dad's office that held programming manuals and a whole encyclopedia. Encyclopedia Brittanica A-Z, across three separate bookshelves at the back of the room, used for research for school papers before the internet was a thing. I remember being poor when I was young, wearing worn-out hand me down clothes, playing with broken toys, push starting the car to get to school in the morning. I guess I never realized then that we were wealthy, we were privileged in other ways. We were always smart kids, we Socias, and maybe that's because we had a bookshelf in every room.

When my sisters moved out, the bookshelf became mine alone. The books I borrowed from my mother never made it back to her shelf, books about magic and legend. I started taking books from Dad, too, books about space, and man's hubris. And when I moved out on my own for the first time, my new condo didn't feel remotely like home until I had that bookshelf in my bedroom, and all my books unpacked on it. The old Nancy Drew hardbacks. The Little House on the Prairie series, in faded paperback. Mom's copy of Mists of Avalon. Dad's copy of Dune. My beloved Betsy-Tacy books, so worn the covers were falling off.

Years passed, and new books made their homes on my shelf. Stephen King and J.K. Rowling, George R.R. Martin and Anne McCaffrey. I moved from place to place, across states even; nowhere felt like home until I unpacked my bookshelf. Last year, I bought a house. We never owned a house when I was a kid. It was the most adult thing I have ever done, buying this big beautiful yellow house with a fenced yard and a bathtub big enough for me to soak in. We didn't have time to bring any furniture the first day, and we slept on an air mattress on the floor. But the next day, we brought everything. We brought my shelf. I unpacked my boxes of books, and that was the day it became my home.

It gets real full, sometimes. Like it is now. Times like these are bittersweet, because I know what must be done. A box comes out. Carefully, lovingly, I sort through them all. Keep. Keep. Donate. Keep. Donate. Keep. Keep. There are always those books someone gave you as a gift, that didn't quite sit right with you, but you know their message will be right for someone else. Or the ones you grabbed on sale because the cover art was fascinating. Or the ones a friend recommended as being risque and daring, but when you picked up a copy, all you could think was that there's better smut on the internet for free. In the box, with those, and off to a book drive, a donation center, a local library. And now, here look at all the space I've made on my beautiful bookshelf. It's not empty. It's waiting. Like me.

#hippo's creativity challenge #writing 2K17 #21366/30000

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clerenceff · 3 years

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Tiyanna

Winston: There’s nothing I can do, for you. I can try and find you another Lawyer, but I don’t handle custody cases

I rolled my eyes, listening as my trash ass lawyer in Jamaica made all the excuses in the world as to why he couldn’t get me my son back. He ass raped me for money but I have seen no results. It’s going on 2 weeks without seeing my almost 1 month old and I can’t bear it any longer. She’s too young to be without me.

I wouldn’t be in this position had I not had a bitter ass babyfather. He’s holding her hostage from me. He has a bit of power in Jamaica so of course he’s using that to his advantage. I have my daughter’s dependent visa ready, all I need is her in my arms.

Tiyanna: No, I don’t need anymore of your services, thank you.

Hanging up the phone. I cupped my face and exhaled. This was not suppose to be like this. I’m so stressed.

“Brianna. Come on, let’s go out for dinner. On me, dinner and drinks. You deserve it”

My friend and business partner spoke. We actually grew up together in Jamaica. She came here first to hold down my business for me and I came shortly after. I would be here with my daughter, but like I said, her father is holding her against my will.

“Tati, I can’t even... it’s just too muc-”

“Listen, just take a breather. Then we can get back to it tomorrow. But you have to breath for a second. You’re running on fumes”

Justin

“Ayo, toast. To my dog, my brother, my nigga. You defying the odds man. We wasn’t even suppose to see 15. I’m proud of you, I stick beside you. Let’s keep making history”

Tristan spoke as he stood, holding his glass high in the air. The 10 of us toasted, and sipped from our flutes then resumed back to eating.

Life was good, It is continuously good. Thanks to my father’s inheritance, my mother, and my skill at being really good at keeping and saving money, I’ve extended my money to the next degree. I was at first worth only $198 Billion. Now, as of today which is why we’re celebrating, I’m worth $250 Billion

I found out my pops was a fucking Billionaire. I was his bastard child. Had when he cheated on his wife. All these years I thought he just didn’t give a fuck about me. But he wrote letter for me every year and had them put aside. He passed 2 years ago and left me everything. His $198 billion company and all of his ALL his billions to me. ME. A poor ass kid from The BX. I’m 22 and a Billionaire. He had 5 kids total and a wife and left it to me, all of it. Every single penny.

The money ain’t changed me though, Just made me smarter. My circle got smaller, my time is a bit busier, and I’ve invested in a fleet of jets and yachts. I mind as well give the run down of what I do. What I own and who Justin Bailon is.

I am the CEO Of previous Toussaint Incorporation, It’s now Bailon Incorporation. I was also grated the right to change the name. We invests in and hold dozens of major public and private companies. As part of our portfolio, my company also owns and operates several self-titled companies, including Bailon Home Services of America and Bailon Direct Insurance Company.

But apart from our branded companies, Bailon does a bit more than provide insurance. In 2017, Bailon companies and holdings contribute a variety of commodities and services to the market - including producing computers and electronic products, providing insurance, producing clothing, serving food products, automotive products and services and much more. Although Toussaint Inc. originally started out primarily in the textile industry, I’ve grown to make it become a conglomerate that invests in a diverse group of major companies and provides the prime example of my famous value investing strategy.

I have 100% ownership in multimillion and billion dollar companies. And not all of them are the same. I’ll name a few. For starters, Billups Brick Company, it’s construction, I own it 100%. AlterLinks, Electric Transmission, I own it 100%, and it’s also a subsidiary of Bailon Energy. I mean the list is long, jewelry, auto sales, utilities, Insurance, Bond Insurance, Media, Logistics, Food and Beverage, Pipeline, Clothing, Luxury, Jets, Furniture, Sports Equipment, Pharmaceuticals, Materials and Construction, as I said before the list exceeds my age of life. Plus more.

I’m blessed. I bought my mother a house, she’s well off even though she’s always been her own hustler. The lavish life is the shit, I’ll admit. But a nigga has had his fair share of lame females and one night stands, so much so that I’m ready to settle down. Just hanging with the niggas gets bored. I want a wife, a daughter or a son. Mostly a daughter though.

Taking a sip of my Ace of Spades, in the corner of my eye, I seen a female, she was bad as fuck. Looked a bit sad and shit, but even wearing that frown she was beautiful. Clearing my throat, I wiped my mouth with a napkin, and walked over to their table.

“Might I ask what you ladies are sipping on tonight?”

They both looked up and she smiled shyly and shook her head.

“Nothing special, Top Self Margarita’s”

Her accent, she was Jamaican. I smiled to myself and nodded.

“How about I order you guys a bottle Of Ace of Spade to enjoy, you get back to me and let me know how that is?”

She laughed and shook her head.

“It’s okay, nothing to really celebrate so we’re keeping it light”

“Life is a reason to celebrate love. Plus, you’re beautiful. You deserve it”

She bashfully blushed, looking across at her friend then clearing her thoat.

“Can I have a name to add on to that beautiful face”

Looking up at me with her honey brown eyes she exhaled.

“Tiyanna Chen”

I nodded, and extended my hand to take her’s, then kissed the top of it.

“Justin Bailon... I think we should exchange numbers... keep up with each other. You live here?”

“Yeah... I just moved here from Jamaica a week ago”

I nodded. She was too fine to pass up. Shit I knew if I didn’t step to the plate another nigga would.

“That’s wassup. Here take my phone-”

“Too be honest, Me have a lot going on. Things I need to get through”

I smiled, taking her phone off the table and placing it in her hand.

“Nothing you need to go through alone though...”

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