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#brother are back at work / school in more high risk environments than my dad who would be in a private office alll day. and the thing is no
pepprs · 11 months
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my mom isn’t letting my dad go back to his office bc him being out of the house stresses her out and makes her have a flare up and it’s like kind of insane. like i understand why the idea of him doing that would make her panicky and angry as someone who also struggles w separation anxiety and abandonment shit / has physical symptoms from that kind of stress (though not to the same degree ofc) but also he is a grown man. he should be allowed to go to his office and not have to shape his entire life around her needs. and she keeps guilt tripping him out of it and it’s impacting his quality of life a lot and the whole thing is kind of… hm
#purrs#delete later#also she’s guilt tripping me into coming to the stupid fucking potluck on sunday bc she needs the extra help and it’s like… what are you#gonna do when i move out. like i am a grown woman and i should be able to choose how i spend my two precious weekend days. and my dad is a#grown man and he should be able to choose where he works. like is that not a little bit insane. i get it but also….. i do think it s kind of#fucked ip that it’s her way or the highway and her needs take priority over all of ours and she’s asking us to bend to what she wants when#she wants it. like i get it bc she’s sick but it’s not fair for her to expect that from my dad especially. particularly when me and my#brother are back at work / school in more high risk environments than my dad who would be in a private office alll day. and the thing is no#one is brave enough to all her on it bc if we did it would be the END of the world. she even threw a fit on my dads bday and complained bc#the things he wanted to do were things she didn’t want to do like all the man wanted to do was go mini golfing and when that wasn’t good#enough he just wanted to go on a walk and my mom complained the whole time and also scoffed the movie he wanted to watch and said it was#boring and it’s like… wtf it’s HIS birthday??? but what do you expect from the woman who (and in fairness her friends got her these as gifts#but still) has TWO kitchen items that say some variation of ‘a marriage is when one is always right and the other is always the husband’ 💀#i look at that little plaque every night bc it’s in front of the sink when im doing dishes and it makes me so fucking angry. like my dad is#a whole fucking person and he can be right too and he deserves to make choices and be happy and not have his wife put him down all the time.#idk. and she puts down his family all the time too and complains when he wants to do the most reasonable things for his own enjoyment that#don’t align with hers and criticizes his interests all the time and it just sucks to see. he never shows hurt or anything so idk how he#feels about it but it makes me so angry and sad and when i tell her to stop she just lashes out at me so. 🤪. like how do we get her to stop#making her needs more important than everyone else’s bc… she may be our mom / his wife / whateger but that doesn’t make her queen. no one is#(andalso this has only gotten worse bc of covid / her being sick. like this has been a lifelong thing it’s just it’s a lot worse now bc the#circumstances gave her room / forced her to have to take up more space. and it’s just so frustrating. i get it. but none of us are pawns or#dolls or subordinates or anything. there’s 5 adults here and we should all be able to make choices and not be guilt tripped by her. lol#)
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bihanspookies · 4 months
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SHE’S HERE:
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First of all thank you to @fizzygator for making my girl come to life. Y’all this girl has come a LONG way lmao. She started off as an oc in a fanfic I wrote years ago in high school and her personality and overall characterization has changed (for the better 💀).
Name: Alora De Toro
Age: 29
Birthplace: Manhattan, New York (Earthrealm)
Race: Half Edenian (Father)/Earthrealmer (Mother, Spain)
Birthday: June 23rd, Cancer
Hair: Auburn
Eyes: Gray/blue
Skin Tone: Tan
Distinguishing Features: Dark circles, long slender and sharp nose
Languages: English and Spanish
Height: 5’9
Build: Lean with muscle and flexible
Scars: Over her mouth from Mileena, under her right eye from Kano, top of right shoulder to elbow from tarkatan blade, puncture wound on left side of stomach from kytinn stinger, left thigh is mangled bc of tarkatan bite
Piercings: One on each lobe and two on each cartilage
Tattoos: None
Clothes: Wears a lot of either sleeveless or loose fitting clothing since her body temps always warm
Family: Kyro (Father deceased), Taron (Older brother alive), Elena (Mother alive)
Nicknames: Bullhead and ChAloraform (Taron), Little Love (father), Dulcita (mother), Killer (Alex @chadillacboseman), Red (Kano)
Ring Names: Herculean Bull, Crimson Snake
Likes: Gardening, her greenhouse, her hair, her pet rat Michi, winter, painting her nails dark colors, her stuffed bear that Kyro gifted her as a baby
Dislikes: Invasive bugs, onions, being talked to when she’s already upset, people chewing with their mouth open, being in debt to Kano
Flaws: Reserved, guarded, tends to prioritize missions over everything else, loner most of the time (practically lives in her greenhouse), blunt
Fighting Style: MMA/street fighting
Powers & Abilities: Enhanced strength and high pain tolerance
Personality: She’s usually blunt, straightforward but can be funny when she wants to be while also being ornery and sarcastic, mostly in a deadpan manner. She carries out her orders with little to no questions, just wanting to get it done so she can be alone. Usually level headed, hard to anger but when she is she tends to be more aggressive. The longer it goes on the more chaotic and brutal she can get, getting tunnel vision to complete her mission no matter what. She’s plagued with nightmares of being forced to fight for Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn and her dad being killed. She’s always on high alert and can be tense if she’s in an unknown environment or situation, but knows how to hide it well.
History: Her father Kyro once resided in Edenia as a guard for the Empire but left once Shao Kahn reigned terror and merged their realm with Outworld and it was too late to help. He fought until the last minute, managing to escape along with a few other Edenians and made his way to Earthrealm, specifically New York. There he found work doing odd jobs under the table and it was on one job that he met Elena, a psychiatrist from Spain who needed a new desk put together. It wasn’t long that they dated and soon enough married, with Kyro eventually telling Elena the truth of his past and where he came from. Soon she was pregnant with Taron and it was 5 years later when they had Alora.
Alora was born prematurely and had to be kept under close watch but doctors told Kyro and Elena the odds of her surviving were very slim, so Kyro in a moment of weakness decided to go back to Outworld and search for Shang Tsung to beg for his help, knowing that the sorcerer shouldn’t be trusted but Kyro was desperate to save his child. Elena pleaded with him not to go but as time went by she was running out of options and couldn’t risk it anymore. Kyro returns to Outworld and finds Shang Tsung who more than happily agrees. Kyro was so engrossed in saving his baby that he didn’t truly think about the fact that the sorcerer didn’t ask for anything in return. Once the sorcerer was finished, Shang Tsung bid them farewell but not before giving Kyro a certain look, one that struck a chord of fear in him.
As Alora grew up, her parents would notice how she had an unusual amount of strength for someone her age. How she seemed to pick up certain objects with ease that any other child would have trouble doing so, how as a baby her grip was like iron. It fully came to light when at age 7, when Alora and Taron (12) were roughhousing. They were outside in the backyard, messing around when suddenly Taron screamed out in pain, tears streaming down his eyes. Elena and Kyro ran out to find Alora holding his limp hand, arm broken in several places from her own strength.
Shang Tsung’s magic had given Alora an abnormal amount of strength to save her life. Not only that but it also gave her a high pain tolerance along with better resistance to certain elements. Her parents, figuring it had something to do with his magic, could only warn their daughter to be more careful and cautious and keep a watchful eye on her.
It’s later that same year when Alora (7) suddenly falls incredibly ill. She was in the hospital, hooked up to machines but doctors couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong with her. Eventually they were told that her heart had become weak, an unexpected decline in her health. Once again Kyro makes the gut wrenching decision to go back to Shang Tsung and ask for help. Kyro was surprised when the sorcerer was waiting for him in the hallway, a sinister smirk on his lips. It was then that Kyro realized that it was all an elaborate plan in the making, Shang Tsung purposefully having his magic run out when Alora reached a certain age. The sorcerer promised to heal her only if Kyro swore to return back to Outworld with him and serve under Shao Kahn. With a heavy heart he agrees, keeping a smile on his face as he watches Alora’s color slowly return to her. He pulls Elena to the side, explaining the situation and bids her a tearful goodbye while hugging and kissing his children for the final time. Before Elena can even get a word out, Shang Tsung pulls Kyro into a portal, leaving her alone with her children.
Later on Elena tells her children the truth of their father and where he came from, showing them a notebook that they kept full of information and knowledge that Kyro has shared.
10-16 Elena enrolls Alora in anger management and MMA classes, noticing that the leaving of her father changed her, her daughter becoming more angry. As time goes on she’s excels past her peers to the point that she enters tournaments, remaining undefeated against her opponents and most of her wins coming from K.O’s. Deciding that it wasn’t enough, she finds and starts fighting underground, gaining more money and better notoriety. It’s at a certain underground fight that Kano approaches her, who had been watching her fight for quite some time and brings up the idea of fighting more dangerous people, more thrill than this and promising more money than she could get from these tournaments. At first she brushes him off, calling him a weirdo until he brings up Outworld, and to her horror and surprise her father. Frozen in her tracks, the notebook left by Kyro burning bright in her mind as she looks at Kano. She makes the hard decision to leave with him, only leaving a note on her bed for her mother to find and then leaving with Kano the next day.
Kano brings her to the Koliseum, putting her through weeks of fighting, giving her money and thrill as promised. Every day she would ask where Kyro was, where were they keeping him, how did she even know if he was still alive. Kano would brush her off, claiming that she’d seem him soon.
She had been fighting mercilessly, absolutely beating her enemies into a pulp. She had even been in a match against Mileena who left her with the gracious gift of a deep cut across her mouth from her sai but not without the repayment of a few shattered ribs. She fought viciously, drenched in blood, exhausted but ready to fight her final opponent and get the day over with.
Her blood had stilled when her father stood across the arena from her, years of fighting aging him and battle scars adorning his body. They refused to fight each other, ready to receive the beating that usually came when denying the emperor of something. An ultimatum was given: fight until one man remained or be killed.
After a few moments of painful silence, Kyro got into his fighting stance and gave his dear daughter a fearful and sorrowful nod. At first Alora held back when they fought, wanting to savor the moment of seeing her father after 9 years, taking in his features before the end came. But eventually her father pushed her to not hold back, to fight because her life depended on it.
With hurtful eyes he lands a kick to her stomach, sending her across the arena. She collapses to her knees, claiming she is unable to fight, secretly hoping they would put a stop this. With Kyro as the winner the match is done and they think they are safe for another day until Shang Tsung and a few of his experiments appear behind Kyro. Before Alora can even speak a word out, Shang Tsung grabs Kyro by the collar of his torn shirt and Alora can only watch in horror as the sorcerer takes his soul from him, his screams of agony tearing through Alora’s ears.
When her fathers body hits the ground she goes into a blind fit of rage and lunges forth, Shao Kahn’s minions attempting to hold her back but they were no match for her strength. Alora takes down the sorcerer and beats his face in, her fists pounding him to a pulp. It isn’t until Kano is hauling her away that the bloody sorcerers body transformed into someone else, revealing that he had used his magic to create a decoy and had gotten away. Kano tells Alora that because she lost the match she owed him money, forcing her to enlist in the Black Dragon and if she refused he would go find her mother and brother. Still fueled by the image of her father dying, she lashed out against Kano who took her down and cut her under the eye, leaving a permanent scar.
Now at age 29, Alora is the silent cold hearted muscle, having paid off the debt owed but too fearful to return home for the fact that Kano could still very possibly find her and her mother and brother. With the money she gets from missions she secretly sends it to her family, along with updates on her and to not look for her.
Alora hopes to one day be free of the Black Dragon claws, dreaming of returning to her mother and brother and finally putting her dark past behind her.
Fun Facts:
- She finds solace in her greenhouse, spending most of her free time in there tending to her garden and allowing herself to forget the life she lives currently
- She has a pet rat named Michi
- Claw machine and classic arcade games are her guilty pleasure
- Whenever she’s on a mission in Outworld, she likes to spar with Reiko since they have the same fighting style
- Is a heavy drinker but can handle her liquor extremely well
- Switches in between Spanish and English when she’s going off on somebody
- As much as she loves her father, she harbors immense guilt, blaming him for everything that happened. She wishes that he would’ve just let her die as a baby rather than seeking out Shang Tsung, ultimately sealing his fate and hers years to come.
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redhoodieone · 4 years
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Wrong Number Part 2
A/N: Here’s Part 2! Uh…I don’t really know what to say other than…enjoy it! Hopefully, I can post Part 3 sometime next week.
Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Text Message Nudes, and Mutual Masturbation.
I’m in complete shock. I know I’m frozen because I can’t literally take my eyes off the text message Jason sent to me. It’s clear; it’s in black and white, staring right at me.
Do you ever think we’ll meet each other?
He wants to meet me. Jason wants to meet me in person!
I want to text him back, but my mind is full of many ridiculous questions and the fears of Jason being a serial killer, or rapist, or just an insane Arkham escapee blows up in my head.
Before I knew it, I see the three bubbles on my screen.
I’m sorry. That was selfish of me to ask you that even though we’re still practically strangers to each other. Forget I asked, please?
My heart suddenly hurts like fuck. The pain I’m instantly feeling is very familiar. A broken heart?
It’s pure agony when I notice Jason texting me again.
I’m not going to be able to text tonight, sweetheart. I’m working late with my brothers. I’ll text you tomorrow. Have a good night. Sweet dreams.
I can’t believe I did this. How could I do this to a guy who’s been so funny, so sweet, and such a good friend in only just four days through text messages?
I seriously fucked up. And now I have no one to talk to until I fall asleep.
And as strange as it is, I only sleep well after I talk to him.
 ————————————————————————------------------------------
And true to his word, Jason texts me at five in the morning, only to let me know he made it home safe after working with his brothers.
We only spoke about our jobs once. He told me he works alongside police officers and tracks down criminals and helps brings justice to the city. He seemed almost hesitant to tell me and turned the conversation to me as if he doesn’t like talking about work. He made it clear that he would rather keep his work private, and I didn’t push him to tell me more. I didn’t want to ask a lot of questions, even if I’m sometimes curious about it, because I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable about it.
I had told him I’m a waitress at the local diner just a block away from GCPD, and how I’m a late-night writer who dreams of publishing my novel on love and loss. And after I confessed about the book I wrote to Jason, I noticed he was very enthusiastic about that and even told me he wants to read it.
And as the shy and insecure person that I am, I became embarrassed and said no.
That only fueled the fire between us. Jason went on to explain he loves to read. His favorite literature consists of Shakespeare (particularly Hamlet), George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm, and even poetry from Edgar Allen Poe.
He even went into depth of how The Tell-Tale Heart mirrors his own reflection of life and stuck with him during a depressing time in his life.
It wasn’t until after we shared our love for literature that I found myself falling for Jason. As ridiculous and insane as that sounds, I couldn’t help but feel as if he’s the missing piece in my life.
It’s as if he’s the words to my story.
Important, but very valuable to a writer.
I was basically on a high that had me grinning like an idiot, giggling like a moron, and jumping in my seat as my stomach twists and turns like a roller coaster, when Jason refused to take no for an answer after I said he couldn’t read my novel. He even said his dad has connections to businesses in Gotham and could even help me get it published.
As much as I would want that, I couldn’t help but feel that it seems too good to be true. What if his dad took my novel and publish it as his own? What if I get cheated out of a contract and didn’t get paid fairly like I should? What if it’s basically a soul-sucking scam to just fuck my entire life up?
Jason must have sensed my hesitation after that, because he then began to tell me about his brothers.
How his older brother Dick still treats him like a kid, even though Jason is taller and stronger than him.
How his younger brother Tim is a computer nerd and often geeks out over the oddest things.
And how his youngest brother Damian is really a demon spawn, who tries to be tough shit, but is really a soft teddy bear.
He even has a sassy but wise butler, Alfred, who frightens him and sometimes reminds him of Vito Corleone from The Godfather. But the older man loves Jason as much as his dad, Bruce.
The stories about Jason’s family are the best. I always find myself excited to see what he texts me about his family.
How he and his brothers fight over their dad’s car, how they wrestle and spar to see who’s the strongest one, and how whenever one’s in trouble, the other three are already finding ways to save or bail the troubled one out.
It all makes me feel good to know they’re a close family. Especially when my cold, harsh reality reminds me I don’t have a family.
My parents died when I was just fifteen years old. I was in the school library alone during afterhours; reading on a beanbag chair because I didn’t want to go home. At that particular time, my parents were hanging around a different crowd. A crowd that was into drugs and gambling, and possibly other illegal activities I don’t even know about.
So, I chose to stay in the school library that night, sitting in my favorite beanbag chair the librarian allows me to use, reading a favorite horror book, munching away on a hot pocket (a snack also from the librarian), and just enjoy the silence but comfortable environment I would call home.
Then I was told they died in a car accident, but after eavesdropping on Commissioner Gordon and the other cops, I heard there could have been a hit on them.
The car accident happened only a block away from our apartment.
The brakes were cut.
The car was burning too much oil.
The airbags were taken out.
Many noticeable factors couldn’t pinpoint the real crime. Eventually, they just called it a “car accident”, and everything fishy about the case was ignored and never brought up again.
I suffered and struggled a lot in foster homes until I turned 18. I didn’t have any other family members to get into contact with, so I had to make do with the foster care system. After being shipped to three unstable and cruel homes, the last family only dealt with me until I turned 18 and I was soon kicked out. I did get lucky enough to get a job at the diner I’m working at since the new manager needed a pretty young girl to serve the customers.
I even went to Gotham Community College for a year but dropped out when I couldn’t pass any math and science classes.
It was fucking hard.
Science was confusing as hell.
Math was just evil and useless.
I hated those classes so much.
I only passed my English classes because reading and writing only made sense to me.
I even took a creative writing class and poetry class only to discover I want to write.
I want to be a writer.
So, I dropped out of college and decided to work full time at the diner as a waitress. Since no one wants to live and work in Gotham, I’m lucky enough to work morning and night without any issues. As dangerous and scary Gotham can be, I have nowhere else to go, so that’s why I stay here.
Maybe that’s why I’m eager to meet Jason. After everything I’ve been through, maybe I do need a little unpredictability.
Chances.
Risks.
The more I consider meeting Jason, the more I can imagine him being my family.
Or being a part of his.
Maybe.
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“You’re not going to meet him, right???” Stacey raises her voice at me in sheer annoyance and panic. She crosses her arms and glares at me to answer her. “Right, Y/N???”
I sigh as softly as I can while wiping down the booths and tables for the night. In the midst of a battle, I find myself growling with irritation when I can’t wipe away the sticky maple syrup spills on the hard surface.
“He could be a fat, old man who picks up on teenage girls! He’s probably some 40-year-old loser who still lives on his mom’s basement playing Street Fighter with kids! What if he tricks you into meeting up in a hotel room and has his way with you? Then what, Y/N?! Does that sound like a good idea to you?!” Stacey snaps.
I exhale deeply and stand up straight; after leaning over the table to reach the opposite side for some time. Turning around, I face Stacey Patterson, a tall, petite, pretty blonde, fresh face girl straight out of high school. She’s a waitress like me, and after only working here for a year, we’ve become close friends; always looking after each other in dangerous Gotham City.
“I didn’t say I was going to meet him, Stacey. We’re just talking about it,” I answer timidly.
Despite being five years older than Stacey, she still intimidates the hell out of me. Whether it’s her 5’11 height, loud voice, or natural evil glare, I can never speak up or defend myself. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t take a stand.
Because what if I actually piss her off? What if she stops being my friend?
Because I don’t think I could live in Gotham and not have any friends and not know anyone.
Stacey is like my best friend, and her friends Amber and Holly hang out in our group. Stacey even says they’re my friends, too, even though I clearly know they only put up with me because of her.
And if Amber and Holly aren’t my friends, then I’ll just have Stacey. And if I don’t have Stacey, I’ll only have Jason.
And who knows if Jason is who he says he is, and if he’s even real.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Y/N! You’re totally thinking about Jason! You’re thinking about meeting up with him because I could see it in your eyes!” Stacey declares. She waves her arms around to emphasize her point. “You like this guy! You have feelings for a guy you’ve never even met!”
“That is not true,” I argue weakly.
“Yes, it is! And we don’t even know if it’s a guy!”
“Jason is a guy, and I can tell!”
“Oh, really? How? Do tell.”
I stare at Stacey with a serious expression, except my cheeks are burning with embarrassment as usual. “He...comes off like a guy. I know he is. I can tell through his text messages,” I say.
“Anybody can sound like anyone through text messages. That’s how people catfish victims online!” Stacey argues.
“I’m a writer, Stacey. I just...have a feeling, okay? I know Jason says who he is, and I believe him,” I say strongly, as I push a lose strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m doing this the smart way, too. When he and I decide when we should meet up, I’ll let you know. Maybe we can make it a group thing. I bring a friend. He brings a friend.”
Stacey sighs in defeat when she realizes I’m not backing down. She glances up at me with a stern face. “Fine. When you two decide when you’re both going to meet up, I’ll be there. I’ll be there to make sure he’s not on America’s Most Wanted, and to make sure he doesn’t try to lure you to his mom’s basement. BUT...you have to go on a date. A REAL date with a guy we both know, AND who could be good for you,” she states loudly and clearly.
“But Stacey-”
“Hey! Only until this Jason guy comes to Gotham and we meet him! Until then, I want you to give this guy a chance. A fair chance! For me...please???” Stacey pleads. She pouts and gives me her puppy dog eyes, which she knows I always give in to.
I’m too nice. Mom always said I was too nice, and that one day it’ll get me in trouble.
I’m still wondering when that’ll happen.
“Okay, I’ll give this guy a chance. I swear I will,” I promise and salute her. “But who’s the guy?”
Stacey grins in success and hugs me tightly. “Good! Because you’re like my sister, Y/N, and I just want to see you happy. You deserve it,” she says softly. “And it’s Chace. Remember him? He’s the drummer from, WakeHell. He moved in right next door to me, and I know you two will hit it off right!”
Chace????
Oh yeah. I know him.
He’s a total bad boy. A bad boy I don’t even think I could deal with.
I force a smile but then frown, because the only guy in my life who makes me happy is Jason.
Who I only text.
Who I haven’t even met.
 ————————————————————————---------------------------------
The next day is a lazy day since it’s my day off. I spent the majority of it sleeping, doing laundry, and just doing minor cleaning around my apartment until it’s 9:00 P.M.
And Cruel Intentions is on TV.
Lying on the couch with my second glass of Vodka Cranberry, I find myself really buzzed and horny. Ryan Phillippe back then was hot, and him making out with Reese Witherspoon is doing things to me.
My phone bings. It’s Jason.
What are you up to tonight, sweetheart?
Just a night in, a cup of glasses of vodka and cranberry, and Cruel Intentions is on TV.
I barely realize I’m buzzed and texting Jason. But my horny side doesn’t care.
I sorry I’m buzzed right now lol.
LOL no worries. I just came back from the bar with my brothers. We had a successful night and decided to get some drinks. We even had Tim and Damian use fake I.D’s.
I laugh and snort. Thank God no one heard me do that.
That’s good...we wouldn’t want Tim and Damian to be left out. They’re your baby brothers, Jay.
Jay? I really like it when you call me that. And I especially like you buzzed. LOL.
I like me buzzed too! I think I’m way more fun and free!
LOL!!! Exactly, princess!
I smile down at my phone. I love it when he calls me princess.
You said you’re watching Cruel Intentions? I just found it on TV. Wow...this movie’s old LOL.
Shut up!!! I find young Ryan Phillppe sexy in this movie!
You seriously find him sexy??? The guy’s a whiny brat! A pussy! Fuck, this movie woulda been sexier if we actually saw the douchebag eat out Cecile and saw him fuck Annette AND Kathryn!
I gasp out loud and giggle.
Then it would have been a porno! Not a movie! Hahaha!!!!
That’s fine with me, princess!
I softly whimper at just the thought of Jason watching porn. Closing my eyes, I imagine how he would sound, touch himself, and look when he’s pleasuring himself.
My eyes shoot open when I hear Sebastian telling Cecile he wants to kiss her…down there. I quickly turn my attention to the TV and watch the movie. Even though he takes advantage of a clueless, drunk girl in the movie, just the thought of him eating her out makes me clench my thighs.
It’s been too long. WAY TOO LONG!
The last guy I was seeing didn’t like to eat me out; claimed it was disgusting and unnecessary to do before sex.
As if sucking his dick was glamorous AND fun!
My thoughts are interrupted when Jason texts me.
You’re quiet tonight…does this scene turn you on???
The laughing emojis he texts me should hurt my feelings since I can easily be embarrassed over sexual things but…he’s right.
I’m turned on with just the thought of getting eaten out.
I boldly text Jack back. Unashamed and VERY buzzed.
You have no idea. Just imagining him eating me out, writing the alphabet with his tongue, and making me have an explosion is making me wet my panties right now.
I laugh to myself just seeing that Jason read my text message and is responding fast. The texting bubbles have never looked so good.
You’re…you’re wet right now????
Yes. Soooo fucking wet.
A surge of drunken confidence hits me, and I quickly shove off my pajama shorts until they’re on the floor. In just my white tank top and pink panties, I bravely slip my fingers into my damp panties and rub the wetness against my sensitive clit.
And with my other hand, I raise my cell phone and snap a picture of fingers in my wet panties.
And I send the picture to Jason.
I bite my lip in anticipation when I see he read my text message and saw my picture. The texting bubbles do not appear on the screen. He’s not texting me back.
Frowning, I wonder if I freaked Jason out. Maybe I crossed the line. Maybe I made him uncomfortable. Maybe I’m just not sexy.
Suddenly, my phone beeps. Unlocking my cell phone screen, I see two text messages AND a picture.
Oh, fuck sweetheart…that’s fucking sexy. You’re fucking sexy…
Jason sends me a picture of him wearing his boxer briefs, and his hand holding his hard, thick cock, showing me the outline and shape of his boner.
Delicious. I can feel my pussy clench just from imagining Jason fucking me with his cock.
Fuck doll...you’re doing this to me.
I whimper pathetically and can’t help but continue to rub my clit and respond back. I can see my juices staining my panties.
Are you touching yourself too?
Fuck yeah. Just seeing your fingers playing with your wet, pretty pussy got me hard. I’m jacking off to your picture.
Would you want me like I want you?
Fuck yes, sweetheart. I probably want you more than you want me.
I slip a finger inside my pussy and moan. My thumb runs fast hard circles on my clit, and I’m soon pushing in two fingers. I’m fucking myself crazy, but I imagine Jason is finger fucking me because my fingers wouldn’t get me off so fast.
And his fingers are thick. His hands are fucking huge!
I bite my bottom lip. “Fuck...I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” I whisper to myself. I snap another picture of my fingers shoved in my pussy, and how I’ve gotten wetter. I send him the picture with the truth.
I need to cum so bad. I wish it was you touching me.
Yeah? What would you want me to do to you, doll?
Fuck that picture’s so hot.
I’d want you to finger me. Eat me out. Fuck me hard.
Jason sends me another picture of him stroking his cock but with his hand in his underwear. I can see a wet spot where his tip is; stained with his precum. I want a taste of it so badly.
Fuck I would baby. Your pussy looks so good enough to eat. I’d fucking eat you out until you can’t cum anymore. I bet you taste delicious.
Oh fuck…I’m so close. I want your cock so bad, Jay. You’re gonna make me cum…
Rub your clit harder baby. Fuck your pussy fast and hard with your fingers. Imagine they’re my fingers, baby. I’d fuck you so hard and deep. 
I want to see your cum, okay? Take a picture of that pretty pussy and show me what I did to you.
I do what Jason says. Behind his words, I can feel his authority. Even though I can’t hear Jason’s voice, just reading his words makes me burst like fireworks. My thumb rubs my clit harder, and I crook my fingers just right until I push against my g-spot until I cum. My orgasm is intense, and I force myself to snap a picture of my soaked underwear and fingers. I sent it to him with a lazy smile.
My phone beeps. Jason sent me a picture of his thick, juicy, cum covering his abdominal muscles. I smile a little with pride. 
Fuck that was hot, sweetheart. I needed that. 
Me too. Now, I’m sleepy. 
LOL, I’m tired too. Get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.  
Okay…goodnight Jay.  
I roll over onto my side and shut off the TV. Pulling my UGG throw blanket over my body, I snuggle up to fall asleep. My phone beeps again. Opening one eye, I reach over to read the text message. 
Goodnight doll. Sweet dreams.  
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15x11. A game of cosmic moves, heroes, and queer subtext
This was a very interesting episode that is about a game. The game being played by two cosmic forces: God and Death. The gamblers from the title refer to both the players in the pool hall, but also to the big game that is being played by Billie, who previously mentioned taking “a calculated risk” with breaking her rules. She’s playing a game and we wonder whether Chuck is realizing that.
But it’s also an episode about people handling phallic objects and playing with balls the entire time, which has a long history on the show of being associated to Dean (and men). Plus there are swords (the phallic object for excellence) and hearts, specifically hearts ripped out, which have a long history on the show of being associated to love and sex (2x17 Heart and multiple other werewolf episodes, 11x13 Love Hurts...), and it’s no coincidence Dean mentions suffering from “heartburn”: while it’s about the digestive system, the word itself evokes the heart. Of course it’s also about Sam, who’s texting Eileen at the beginning. But it’s also about Cas, who faces another soul-sucking angel, and much has been written about that kind of mirror back in the time of 10x20 Angel Heart.
So, Fortuna. And, interestingly, her son who is called Pax, which is Latin for peace, and thus drops the concept of peace/paradise in the episode. The pool hall is run by Pax, and it works a bit like heaven, especially the old way heaven was run, when the Grigori literally fed off humans’ souls. If you replace ‘luck’ with ‘soul’ you really realize what this episode is about and what it parallels to.
In fact, I think that the episode purposely blurs together callbacks to angels and demons: the pool hall Grigori torture scene is reminiscent of Alastair, for instance, there are callbacks to Crowley, to Abaddon*, to soul-selling deals (the cowboy mentions having gotten a year of extra life, the amount of time Dean got when he made his demon deal...), but also to Michael (who literally trapped Dean inside a bar, like Evie was forced to work at the bar of the pool hall) and heaven.
*In 9x17 Mother’s Little Helper, which also features Dean playing pool (and Misha’s unsubtle directing choices), demons stole souls to make an army for Abaddon quickly, and Sam released them. The episode also featured the concept of addiction - Dean and the First Blade, Crowley and human blood, the title of the episode itself refers to drugs - and now the pool players are unable to stop playing until their luck runs out, although the game is rigged.
Now, Fortuna is a clear parallel to Chuck; she keeps people trapped in her joint to play for her amusement or whatever, just like Chuck does with his narrative. But I mentioned before replacing ‘luck’ with ‘soul’, right? That makes Fortuna the goddess of ‘soul’. Who’s the cosmic lady that rules over souls and is also making someone play the moves of her own game? Yep, Fortuna is both a parallel to Chuck and Billie. Who are indeed the players of the cosmic game that is being played.
Fortuna “reads” the players like they were stories, just like Chuck writes people like characters, but also like Billie reads the destiny of people from the books in her office. Now, Fortuna calls Dean a “beach read” and laughs when he calls himself a Tolstoy, which is a clever bit because what really is a beach read is Chuck’s pulp novels, it’s Chuck’s narrative for them, while the real Dean (et alii) are much more complex and interesting than what Chuck’s story would reduce them to. Her dismissal of Dean and interest in Sam also mirrors Chuck in a way, and we wonder whether there’s some reason for that: Dean is better at pool than Sam, as Dean states and Sam doesn’t contradict him. Pool becomes the way they challenge the deity that is pulling the strings, and Sam loses. Is it a coincidence that the thing they were supposed to trap Chuck with in the last episode was shaped like a smooth ball...?
But I also think that this could be foreshadowing of Dean & co. also putting their foot down with Billie, because it’s pretty clear that whatever plan she has for Jack, they won’t accept to play it like she wants to. The Ma’lak box plan has already been labeled a bad idea by the narrative, and I’m sure that the story will frame Billie’s plan also not as the good thing to do, but they’ll find a third way between Chuck’s story and her plan.
Fortuna differs from Chuck in a fundamental way: she understands what makes a hero. Eventually she rewards them despite their loss -- it’s not about winning, it’s about trying despite zero chances of success. They went against the goddess of luck in her own joint, they were doomed from the start, yet they tried anyway, because they care. Reminds you of something? Death made a deal with Dean, his brother’s soul in exchange of being able to being Death for a full day. Dean lost, and yet Death rewarded him anyway, because Dean was never going to be able to succeed, but he showed something in his attempt.
Fortuna’s power outdoes Chuck’s “damage” (they indeed have an “average” luck: not because they are “normal” now but because they have wins and losses, they lost Jack and now they get him back, and so on...) because she acknowledges them as “heroes” -- not because they defeated her, but because they tried anyway. It’s not being exceptional, not being stronger or whatever, but it’s about being... very human. Trying against unsurmountable odds. People against something bigger than them. That’s why they are heroes -- because they’re human.
They’re human and they care about others, even if they’re strangers. Fortuna and her pool hall are a strong parallel (even in visuals, and, well, in the inevitable homoerotic subtext layer) to Lee’s bar. Lee's bar was based on the sacrifice of innocent victims so that he could prosper; Fortuna steals luck off the people in the pool hall, until they’re sucked dry, except of luck instead of blood. Lee, in fact, was killed with a pool stick, and the meta about the homoerotic subtext writes itself. Here, the homoeroticism is maybe less ridiculously blatant than in the episode with Lee, but, hey. Dean first plays a light match with a woman, then an intense match with a rugged man with a cowboy hat; Sam only plays with a woman. Yeah. *stares at the camera*
Last week, the episode with Garth was a manual of queer subtext, now the focus is more on other aspects, but it’s still an episode about pool, i.e. sticks and balls and shooting things inside openings. I think I don’t have to explain here. You have the history of pool in the show -- Dean and Ash, Dean and Crowley, Dean and Lee... but there’s also something that is not strictly about sexuality but in general about existing as a societal “other”, an outcast, a “freak” in the Dean side of the meaning since forever in the show.
Sam states that he learned to win at pool from his brother, and acknowledges that they had to hustle all their life to eat (a little reminder that they didn’t always rely on magical credit cards to pay for living expenses...), but Sam’s history with pool wasn’t an easy one. At the beginning of the story, he was against using that kind of things to get money. From 1x08 Bugs:
Dean: So what are you saying? That Dad was disappointed in you? Sam: Was? Is. Always has been. Dean: Why would you think that? Sam: Because I didn’t wanna bowhunt or hustle pool -- because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked-out family, made me the freak.
Abnormality versus normality, big theme of the show and particularly clear in season 1. Sam rejects the hunting life, the life he led with Dean and John, to seek a “normal” life. But he was always trapped in a mental trap made of the concept of “freak”, because of the life he’d led growing up and the sense of being unable to fit in with normal people. On the other hand, Dean armored himself with the claim of being “abnormal”, or not fitting with normal people; but that was a mechanism of defense because he was troubled by being different. Except that the story explored how Sam’s “difference” was tied to the supernatural (his tie to Azazel, the demon blood) while Dean’s “difference” was always framed as something fundamentally human, fundamentally tied to his relationships with people. You know what the subtext was always about.
So hustling pool was always a metonymy for a wider picture, the life the Winchesters led in the margins of society, in an underclass environment Sam rejected and took a long time to accept, and Dean embraced because he felt like he couldn’t belong anywhere but there. (“I’m a freak among normal people because I’ve been raised in an abnormal environment” versus “I’m a freak so I belong in an abnormal environment”, in substance.)
So, hustling pool doesn’t equate queerness per se. In Sam’s case it definitely doesn’t, but Sam embracing it equates him embracing being different in a class sense and in a general hunting-life sense. But in Dean’s case, his “being different” was always connected to a different set of subtextual meanings. Sam was “wrong” because of the demon blood and all that jazz, Dean was “wrong” in a sense of societal expectations.
So pool is connected to queer subtext in a stricter sense but also in a larger sense, the semantic area of otherness, of outcast, of freak, of being in the margins. And they play for the ability of going against God -- a God that, in Fortuna’s speech, is framed in opposition to other deities (non-christian deities, female deities, non-white deities) and that represents societal order.
Now about the game. In 5x07, whom this episode is obviously a big parallel to, the high-stake game was poker. Another obvious parallel is to the Ingmar Bergman movie The Seventh Seal, where a man plays a game of chess against Death.
In 5x07, Sam won, now he loses. It’s a fundamental difference that brings us back to what the current narrative is telling us about what makes a hero. All the stuff about luck and whatnot is irrelevant -- Chuck wants us weak, Dean says, and he’s probably right, Chuck is doing this to undermine their confidence, but it’s not a matter of strength/weakness or even confidence. They’re heroes because they’re human, because they’re not special. Against someone stronger than them, like a deity, they lose. But the point is that they play. That’s what matters. They’ve always faced adversaries more powerful than them, situations where they couldn’t win. But they fought anyway. And now, Fortuna is right in saying that they need to fight Chuck by their own rules, not the rules of his game: Chuck will win his own game, because he’s God and they’re just human. But if they play their own game, it will become irrelevant that they’re just human and he’s all-powerful. And, of course, their game means more players, just like Garth attacked the big vampire from behind.
The point is that Dean and Sam aren’t particularly strong or special in any way. They’re going to win because they are not alone.
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hes-writer · 5 years
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One of My Own
Summary: Harry falls out of love with Y/N
Warnings: angst!
Word Count: 3.1k
Based on: Y/N and H being a couple for a long while, however, H falls for someone else and that person turns out to be Y/N's sister. @littledreamybeth
Harry came into Y/N’s life at the best time possible. Although she lived away from her family, she received news and updates from her sibling who did stay with their parents. It was bad. Every night, Y/N’s parents fought about the tiniest things and her brother, Carlos, did his best to intervene so it wouldn’t get any worse, but to no avail. It was unfair for him since he was so young, he was only in high school too; he didn’t deserve to be muddled in their parents’ mess. Daniela, their sister, was a few years older than Y/N and had decided to travel for the past two years meaning that she couldn’t do anything about it since she was far away. Y/N tried to come home as much as she could, she didn’t want Carlos to be alone more than he should but it was difficult for her as well. She was in university; broke and barely had the necessities to make ends meet, surely she didn’t have money to spend to travel to and fro from campus residence to a three-hour train ride back to her hometown. But she tried her utmost hardest.
When Harry and Y/N met, her parents were just beginning their disagreements. They mentioned divorce during dinner once with Daniela joining through video chat from across the world--probably the last family dinner that they’ll have-- and Y/N took it the hardest since she was the closest with both of her parents. Carlos got on well with their dad and Daniela preferred their mom more. Y/N was the middle ground, the middle child, and her relatives often asked her if she was doing okay when she younger because apparently that the second of three children was the one who was often forgotten or not paid attention to enough. That wasn’t the case for Y/N’s family because for as long as she was aware of, her parents were loving and passionate, both of her siblings were normal--some teasing here and there but all in all, they were the picture perfect family of five, the only thing missing would be a furry pet dog.
The stress of her education, the environment of her job, and the state of her crumbling family took a heavy toll on Y/N and suddenly, everything she did required a little more effort from her already weak body. The simple things, like getting up in the morning or making herself eggs for breakfast was substantial for her and Y/N slowly slipped into depression. She was in denial at first, having experienced some unhappy moments in her life, but she could tell that this time around was dissimilar. She was uneducated you could say, she had a schema of what it was like to have depression and most of them were false and untrue. Y/N always thought that that had to sprout of a giant traumatic event-- which could be the case-- but she hadn’t thought that her parents’ upcoming divorce would be a reason for it. Hell, they didn’t even make it official yet! It was only a suggestion so Y/N was a bit confused why she was waking up sluggishly, walking lethargically, and seemed to have no motivation for anything. Y/N realized, then, that depression didn’t have to begin with something so huge-- it could be small things that build up into something bigger and bigger and before she knew it, she was in this state.
It seemed that meeting Harry was the one good thing in her life at the moment and it was true. He sparked up joy back into her life, made it feel like it was worth living. Her grades were on an all-time high ever since it decreased last semester, her home wasn’t as much of a mess, most importantly-- he made her feel loved again. It was a slow burn for their relationship and it took months before he had the courage to ask her out on a date. Their feelings for each other were pretty obvious, but Y/N didn’t want to risk losing their friendship so she shut up about it. Besides, most of her relationships never ended well, and she lost parts of herself to the people that didn’t deserve it. Soon, he asked her to be his girlfriend in the cheesiest way and Y/N was a happier person than she was before meeting Harry. She seemed to have a deeper understanding of her parents’ decisions and her heart didn’t ache as much when she envisioned the future of her family.
Y/N knew that self-care was the utmost achievement that she needed to reach. For years, she had been building up, fundamentally gathering the pieces she lost to make herself a better person; more open-minded and less secluded from people around her. Of course, she wasn’t always like this. Her mother kept saying that it was high school that changed her, and that time of school did change her. Except that being two years younger than Daniela caused some problems for Y/N. You see, Daniela was the stereotypical popular girl. Both of them were pretty but Daniela was prettier. Both of them were smart and made the honor roll, but Daniela was smarter and situated herself on the principal’s list. The sisters were equally talented but the eldest had the guts to actually showcase it at school talent shows. Y/N was the one left in the shadow of her sister; always being approached by the teachers to recommend Daniella to try out for this club or congratulate her for whatever achievement she somehow outshined Y/N on.
And Y/N didn’t really care for boys, not until Billy Watson (her first real crush) approached her when she was putting books away in her locker and saw him from her peripherals. Her heart was pounding and she could hear warm blood rushing through her ears and she swore that her cheeks had turned pink. He smiled at her, making Y/N want to combust from swooning right then and there, but she also wanted to run away as fast as her legs would take her to squeal to her best friends about how he even looked her way. But none of those things happened because Billy asked if her ‘sister was single’. Suddenly, the blush on her cheeks were ones of embarrassment, wondering how she ever conjured up a thought that he was coming over to talk to her because of her. Of course, it was going to be about her sister. That was the story of how Daniela stole Y/N’s first crush. It wasn’t really stealing, but she felt as though she did.
Daniela didn’t just steal Y/N’s first crush away from her; she also managed to snag Y/N’s first boyfriend. It was puppy love, Y/N thought in retrospect. He and she had feelings for each other and didn’t know any better but to join the bandwagon of relationships. They were dating for a solid two months when Leo came up to her after class and asked if they could speak in private. Y/N was glad because he was finally talking to her again. Some communication had been lost between them leading up to their talk. Leo led her into the parking lot to talk about how it ‘wasn’t working out’ between them and that he found a more ‘mature’ person to be with-- his words. Since it was puppy love, Y/N got over it quickly, nodding at him in understanding and hoping him for the best with his new partner. She rarely saw him in school afterward, not until Daniela announced that she was having a guy over to study and he might ‘stay over for dinner’ did Y/N find out the more mature person Leo was talking about was her sister. It was a shock to Y/N to step into the dining area, sitting down at her usual spot around the table only to be met face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend. She was flabbergasted when Daniela took his hand into hers and made the official declaration. Her parents had some obvious concerns because Leo was younger than her, but Leo swooped in to explain that he was wiser for his age. Her sister didn’t know that Y/N and Leo were dating; he never mentioned it and Y/N didn’t either.
That wasn’t all though. There was an instance during Y/N’s senior year and she fell hard for a guy named Kelvin. She hadn’t dared get into another relationship after Leo for quite some time, but when Kelvin approached her with a bouquet of flowers with a nervous quip to his voice, she thought to herself that maybe all guys aren't the same. It was her longest relationship thus far, ten months and Y/N was smitten with him. She wanted it to be that way forever, it was a powerful bond between them and Kelvin was the sweetest to her. They made plans for their post-secondary institutions, noting not to go too far away from each other. They went to senior prom as each others’ dates, and they graduated together. It was during the summer when their relationship fell through the cracks and Y/N got the message that Kelvin met someone new. He explained to her how he never cheated on her and thought that it would be best if they broke up because he didn't feel the same as he used to. His feelings were ailing, thinned by the insignificant distance between them and it was being developed for the woman he had met. Imagine her surprise when Daniela came home during the holidays with a man wrapped around her arm to see that it was Kelvin.
After that, she abstained from getting into relationships while Daniela was around. It wasn’t that difficult since she was timid and hesitant when meeting new people. Plus, she was fine on her own. She moved out from her parents’ house and into residence. She learned to be independent with herself and not co-dependent with another person that will only hurt her in the end. In summary, Y/N’s experiences weren’t the textbook example of finding true love or fate bounding you to your soulmate because it inevitably concludes to her sister getting the guy she loves.
So when Daniela announced her journey to travel the world, Y/N was saddened by the loss of her sisters’ presence, but she was hyped about finally having her chance at love without the possibility that she was going to steal that away from her as well. It was for two years, she had said. Months after, her parents started fighting and then she met Harry.
-----
Harry and Y/N have been together for such a long time. Y/N was afraid of commitment because of her sister’s actions, but Harry had somehow broken down the barrier and he single-handedly tore it down with his kindness. Y/N knew that Harry genuinely loved her, not only through him saying it but also through his actions, his eyes and the way he looked at her with so much love that she could drown in it. He was different. He was mature, caring, and loyal. Trustworthy, she thought. He was the best match for her and he reassured her that his love won’t be swayed--ever. Y/N believed him once her heart started feeling lighter instead of denser when she was around him. It was a feeling that she couldn’t ignore because no matter how much her brain flashed to warn her to get away, her heart fluttered tremendously and Y/N took that as a sign that maybe he was the one.
The best version of herself appeared when he flashed her the brightest smile that she couldn’t help but mirror his expression. His humble heart and the knack he had to help others influenced Y/N to be the same.  A little kinder to the world, he’d say before wrapping his arms around her from behind. He’d give her kisses on her cheek and act like the most adorable person ever. She was full of love, love for Harry and the feeling was reciprocated. It wasn’t like the past and Y/N gained hope each and every day that things can turn around for the better.
-----
Daniela was set to return in a week, just in time for her to talk to their parents and help finalize the divorce; help them settle if this was what they really wanted. She had asked Y/N to pick her up from the airport since her driver’s license had expired during her time abroad, but Y/N had to take an important test that day. Needless to say, Daniela was disappointed and Y/N’s softer heart couldn’t bear to hear her sister’s sad voice through the phone. She offered for Harry to pick her up instead.
“Harry? Who’s that?” Daniela questioned. Y/N gulped, not knowing how to respond. The memories flashing back into her head.
“H-he’s my boyfriend,” She whispered and she wished that her sister didn’t hear her.
“Y/N Y/L/N, why did you not tell me that you have a boyfriend?”
Because I was afraid that you would take him away from me like you’ve done before.
“Slipped my mind, I guess.” She concluded. “What time is your flight?”
“10 and woah woah woah. Aren’t you gonna tell me about him?”
“Um … he’s not your usual type,” Y/N began, but she decided that Harry was someone that she wanted to show off. “He’s the kindest person ever and his heart is made of gold, I swear.”
“Ooooh, sounds like a keeper. Is he hot?”
She changed the subject after that.
--------
It was three nights later since Daniela got back. Y/N was currently putting on her make-up for a catch-up dinner with her sister and Harry. She was too busy with school to spare time for Daniela, but she said that she understood and that she appreciated Y/N for having met Harry. An alarm would usually start blaring in her head, but she ignored in favor of Harry’s loyalty to her.
“Harry, are you ready yet?” Y/N asked while carefully applying black liner over her eyelids. He didn’t respond to her even though it was her second time saying it in the past minute or so.
He hummed back at her and she couldn’t help but turn around to face him to see what had him so distracted that he couldn’t even reply to a simple question. He was sitting on her bed, legs spread open showcasing his muscular thighs in his black dress pants. His dress shirt was a pale blue, the first couple buttons unbuttoned to expose his chest. His blazer was hung in front of her closet to avoid getting wrinkled while he sat down, waiting for her. He was on his phone, clutched between his large hand and close to his face that meant he was chatting with someone. His small mannerisms were what Y/N noticed the most about him.
“Who you chatting with there?” She joked, taking steps towards his direction so that she could grab the pair of heels she’d planned to wear tonight. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Harry had twitched to make his phone inaccessible to her, his finger pressing on the lock button quickly. That was another warning she had failed to label as important.
“Just Dani,” He slipped out casually, phone lighting up against his palm indicating that he had received a new message.
“Dani?”
“You sister, innit?” He told her, looking up for a brief second.
“Oh uh, why are you texting her?” Y/N asked, nibbling on her lip while she fiddled with the straps of the shoes.
“Is it a crime to text?”
Y/N paused her actions, alarmed at his defensive tone. “No, it’s not,”
“She said that she just left. She’s on her way at the restaurant,”
She nodded at his brief update.
----
HIs attention was divided, she could tell. If it wasn’t for his long response time, it would be his actions. The couple arrived first at the restaurant despite Daniela saying that she had left earlier than them-- according to Harry. They were seated in a decently sized table, it was only three of them. Y/N was in the middle of talking about her busy week but she couldn’t help but notice Harry anxiously turning his head in circles as if he was looking for someone. He was fine, he said. And he proceeded to ask Y/N about Daniela with the excuse that he hadn’t heard her talk about her sister that much in the months that they were together. Y/N thought it was sweet that Harry was making an effort to get to know her sister.
When Daniela arrived, it was Y/N who spotted her sister first, standing up from her chair to rush over and give her sibling a hug after not having seen her in a long time. The hug was short and it was filled with a gracious exchange of ‘i miss you’ and ‘how have you been’. Y/N never really noticed how much she missed her sister until she was standing right in front of her. They pulled apart from the hug, Y/N walking them over to the table were Harry sat quietly with a small smile and a gleam in his eyes.
“You’ve already met but Harry, Daniela. Daniela, Harry”
As Y/N sat back down, an uneasy feeling settled itself in the pits of her stomach as she watched Harry stare at her sister conspicuously as if she was an art piece in a gallery. It didn’t help that Daniela was looking at him right back with a bitten lip that Y/N could only label as desire.
She brushed it off but thoughts and conclusions bounce through her head the entire dinner. She couldn’t help but compare herself to Daniela again like she did when she was younger. The make-up she’d applied felt heavier as she looked at Daniela’s natural looking face, emphasizing that she didn’t need to do much to look beautiful. She wore a pale blue dress as well, almost white with the lighting whereas Y/N decided to wear an eggplant colored dress that she now realizes doesn’t match Harry’s dress shirt combo. 
It was an accidental coincidence, it’s not like they planned it, she thought.
-------
new series, let me know what you thought!
@ynm1505 @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango
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relbyshock · 5 years
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Amy Winehouse, Princess Diana, Britney Spears, Marilyn Monroe, Aileen Wuornos, Angelina Jolie, Adolf Hitler, Darrell Hammond, Pete Davidson, Winona Ryder, Vincent Van Gogh, Tommy Tiernan….
What do they all have in common? Apart from being famous figures, they all suffer(ed) or were rumored to have suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder.
Hey, me too.
I’m over the moon to have something in common with Princess Di (apart from our shared plight with bulimia), but I have to say, I’d rather not have anything in common with Aileen or Adolf…..
Borderline Personality Disorder is a confusing term to say the least. On the borderline of what and what? Well, in the ‘30s, it meant you fell somewhere between psychosis (untreatable) and neurosis (treatable).
Great, that’s reassuring.
Come the ‘70s, BPD sufferers were described as being very emotional, needy, difficult, at risk for suicide, and to have an “overall unstable level of functioning”.
Check. *sings “Welcome to My Life” by Simple Plan*
We also have rapidly fluctuating mood swings, unstable self-image, and a fear of abandonment. This disorder wasn’t even recognized by the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) until 1980.
Today, we know far more about BPD – “neurosis” is no longer used in the diagnosis, and BPD is no longer considered a psychotic disorder.
 So what are we then?
Crazy?
Hormonal?
According to my family, yes. But in reality, the problem lies within our brains. Let me nerd out here for a minute:
The Amygdala (Ah-mig-dah-lah) is composed of two almond-shaped parts of the brain, deep in the medial temporal lobe, that regulate fear and aggression. People with BPD have amygdala’s that are noticeably smaller than that of a healthy person. The smaller the amygdala, the more overactive it is.
Like short guys with bad attitudes, or what I like to refer to as “little man syndrome”.
And then we have the Hippocampus – no, not pachyderm college. The hippocampus is responsible for spatial orientation (not falling over), long and short-term memory, and emotional regulation. Put simply, the hippocampus chooses the correct response to environmental events: Fight or flight.
You may be wondering if I was dropped on my head as a child. The answer is yes – frequently – but the chances of minor brain trauma causing BPD are slim.
The causes of Borderline Personality Disorder are unclear. It seems to involve genetic, brain, environmental and social factors. There are rumours that people with BPD have issues with serotonin production, which has been linked to depression, aggression and having a hard time controlling “destructive urges”.
As for environmental factors, those who have been a victim of emotional/physical/sexual abuse, as well as being exposed to chronic fear or distress as a child have a high likelihood of developing BPD. This is because our relationship with our parents and family has a HUGE influence on how we see the world, and how we feel about other people.
Gals are also diagnosed 3 times as often as guys. You’ve gotta wonder if that’s due to the fact that men tend to be more weary of the doctor, therefore avoiding a diagnosis altogether. This is pure speculation.
Shall we take a dive into the “Signs and Symptoms” as listed by Wikipedia?
-Markedly disturbed sense of identity
-Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment and extreme reactions
-Splitting (black and white thinking)
-Impulsivity
-Intense and uncontrollable emotional reactions that often seem disproportionate to the event or situation
-Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships
-Self-damaging behavior (ie, substance abuse)
-Distorted self-image
-Dissociation
-Frequently accompanied by depression, anxiety, anger, substance abuse or rage
We are also aware of the intensity of our negative emotional reactions, and since we can’t regulate them, we shut them down completely. What my doctor and I refer to as feeling “flat”.
BPD sufferers are also extremely sensitive to real or perceived rejection. Let’s explain with a meme, shall we:
*looking at an unanswered text from 12 minutes ago*
You: They must be in the shower or just busy, they’ll respond when they have a chance.
Me: Ok well they were active on Instagram 6 minutes ago and they just posted a snap story….they’re ignoring me, why do they hate me? What did I do? Are they mad at me? Should I send another text to get their attention or is that too needy?
If you’re annoyed just reading that, TRY LIVING IN MY BRAIN.
I annoy myself.
I feel grief, overwhelming shame and humiliation where others would feel mildly embarrassed. A minor inconvenience such as cancelled plans takes me from excited to absolutely miserable.
In the past, an unflattering photo on Facebook has caused me to reevaluate my self-worth, and even my life.
The Sickboy podcast explained it beautifully: Borderline Personality Disorder is like having a third degree burn on your emotions. I feel that. Everything hurts me just a little bit more than the average bear (or human).
Why am I telling you this? Because boys and girls, today is Bell Let’s Talk Day here in Canada. I’ll include the link at the bottom. Basically, in 2010, Bell began a new conversation about Canada’s mental health. They’ve enlisted such figures as Howie Mandel, Michael Landsberg, and Clara Hughes to share their stories of struggle and strength in the face of mental health.
I thought today was as good as any other to address the stigma surrounding mental health, but more specifically, the stigma around BPD.
I can’t pretend to know all the answers – I’m not and won’t pretend to be a psychiatrist. But this is what the world looks like through my lens.
If someone honks at me while I’m driving to work, I’m upset ALL DAY. I never want to drive again, I want to pull over and cry, or turn around and go home.
If I get a moderately rude email, my brain fills with cutting, angry, and just plain mean remarks to respond with. “I’m sorry your father never hugged you as a child” is not a suitable response to a professional email, but that’s where my brain goes.
When I make plans with friends weeks in advance and they bail 10 minutes before, I am a heap of inconsolable sobs for the rest of the evening, and even into the next day. This plays into the fear of “real or imagined abandonment”. My BPD brain does not care that something came up or you’re feeling under the weather. BPD tells me that you hate me and you never want to see me again and you were just pretending to like me this whole time and you’ve finally made your escape. My logical brain tries to tell me that it’s ok, and we’ll plan something for another time, but usually, my BPD brain wins the fight.
When I get nervous and start to ramble trying to tell a story and my mom cuts me off with “Anyways.” I want to crawl in a hole and die, but I also sort of want to throw a plate at her face. My mother is a saint, so why do I feel this way about her sometimes?
Let’s get back to the causes of Borderline Personality Disorder. Dad, Mom, maybe stop reading here…or don’t…but here’s your warning. You aren’t going to like this next part.
I was severely neglected as a child. Not physically – I had food to eat, clothes to wear, a roof over my head – but emotionally and mentally. The minor relationship I did have with my father was marked by him coming home from a long shift (as a firefighter) and starting a fight with me about my weight, my shoes at the front door, my marks in school, and more often than not, “why are you always crying?!”. My mom also worked full time at a stressful sales job. So by the time she got home, she didn’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s issues.
So when I would have issues with anything from being bullied at school to just having a ‘bad mental health day’, I had nowhere to turn.
See, my brother and I were latch-key kids. We got home from school at least an hour before my parents got home from work. He and I never got along, so some sort of fight would ensue, and by the time our parents got home, he had made me cry. I was deemed dramatic and sent away to my bedroom, while the 3 of them would eat dinner together (usually something I refused to eat – like meat – which would be another reason to fight).
I’ve voiced this to my mom before, and she remembers my childhood very differently than I do.
As long as I have been alive, I have come second to my brother.
No, honey, we can’t go to (insert activity I wanted to do) because Maxx has hockey/a book report due/needs a ride to the bike track, etc.
Every dinner or event we went to was with HIS friends and THEIR parents, who ended up becoming my parents’ best friends (still to this day). I was always the only girl; so naturally, I stayed with the adults, because the boys wouldn’t have me.
But the adults didn’t want me there either. I felt like a constant annoyance.
Thinking back on it, I realize that I may not have been as unwanted as I perceived myself to be. Remember, BPD brains are sensitive to even slight facial expressions and tones of voice. But, when I voiced this to my parents, that I felt unwanted, and why couldn’t we do things with my friends and their parents, etc. I was told that I was being ridiculous.
Enter: Invalidation
Invalidation is the number one cause of BPD, according to my psychiatrist. Growing up in an environment where nothing you do is good enough will cause you to internalize everything.
I have no memories or examples of healthy emotional behaviour or relationships. In our house, we got the point across by screaming at or just plain ignoring each other. So when I get hurt, or I feel let down, I have absolutely no idea how to deal with my feelings. Further reinforcing my belief that the world is full of bad people who are out to ruin your day and be unkind, because that’s all I’ve ever known.
Research shows that if you already experience these difficulties as a child, experiencing trauma as an adult could make things worse.
Dad - now is really the time to stop reading.
(Sometimes I feel like I live inside the DSM definition of BPD)
At the age of 21 – fresh out of college and trying to start my career in the fashion world – I was sexually assaulted. Cue the downward spiral.
I didn’t report. I didn’t seek help. I confided in a close friend, and was called a liar. But that’s a story for another time.
So I buried that part of me so deep, that sometimes I could convince myself that it never happened. Sometimes.
I reached the end of my rope in 2016. I knew that if I didn’t seek help, I would not survive. I finally went to my doctor and spent hours with her, just sobbing and telling her everything.
She hooked me up with a psychiatrist, and put me in Dialectical Behavioural Therapy, and started me on an SSRI (anti-depressant) immediately.
As of today, it has been 1172 days since the assault. I only told my mother this past summer.
Since reaching out for help, I have begun to repair the relationship with my parents. My mom and I are closer than ever, and my dad and I are working on it.
As I write this, I feel the judgements pouring in. But I have decided that this year, I don’t care. I am not ashamed of my story. I will no longer hide the things I have been through in order to make others more comfortable. I will not keep my pain to myself because it’s easier for others if I stay silent. If bearing my soul can help even one person seek the help they need, then I have succeeded, and all this pain has been worth it.
The long and short of it is SPEAK UP! There is nothing embarrassing about mental illness. If you aren’t feeling right, there are people who care and are here to help you, including me. The first step is to tell someone.
The best advice I can give is to find your people. People who trust you, who lift you up, who validate your feelings, who listen and take you seriously when you say you’re having a bad day. I have spent the past year painstakingly building my support system, because the truth of the matter is, I can’t do this alone. And that’s ok.
Today and every single day, be kind to each other – it’s the only thing that matters.
https://letstalk.bell.ca/en/bell-lets-talk-day
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weelittleweasley · 6 years
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Not While I’m Around | Sweet Pea x Reader
Anonymous said: Can I request for some protective Sweet Pea? One where maybe the reader is walking alone at night when the Black Hood is still big news? And someone from the Serpents tells Sweet Pea that they saw reader walking alone?
Protective Sweet Pea is the best Sweet Pea tbh. Also, I’m opening requests back up again, so please feel free to pop a request in my inbox! Thank you for all of your wonderful support, babies!
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As you wipe the counter off at Pop’s, you hear the radio blab on and on about the increased crime in Riverdale ever since the Black Hood started his reign of terror. You couldn’t believe how terrified people were over a guy in a black hood with a gun. It was all some big publicity stunt, you told everyone as they criticized you for not being the least bit scared. “Crazy, isn’t it,” Pop Tate starts. “This man is going around on a killing spree. It’s sickening.” You shake your head as you continue to clean the counter top. “Honey, would you stop cleaning? It’s almost one in the morning. Go home and sleep. You deserve it,” he tells you, taking the rag from your hand as you smile.
“Are you sure, Pop? It’s not like I’m in a rush,” you try to reason with him. To be honest, you liked working. It gave you purpose. When you weren’t at school or hanging out with your boyfriend, you felt like a waste of space. When you were working, you felt productive. “I’m very sure, (Y/N). Thank you for all of your help today,” Pop smiles as you grab your bag and change your shoes. 
As you walk out of Pop’s, the environment surrounding you is pitch black. Almost a pit of nothing. The only illumination comes from the neon lights of the diner. You were never really scared of the dark, but you always thought it had this eerie nature to it. This walk home was gonna be interesting. 
The trek home started down the dirt road as you put on your headphone, turning your music library on shuffle. The music seemed to take away the woods is eerie nature. You looked around at the beautiful landscape, tall, lush trees, wildflowers peaking from the ground. Riverdale had this mysterious beauty about it that always kept its residents and visitors wondering what it was. As you take in your surroundings, your phone shuts itself off--dead battery.
“Ugh, great,” you groan, taking out your headphones in defeat. You always forgot to charge your phone during the night shift. Without the music, that eerie nature of the woods starting to creep up in the back of your mind. This is one of the spots where the Black Hood attacked you think. Moose and Midge. You can almost hear the gunshot as your heart starts to race. “(Y/N), stop it. You’re almost home. Two more blocks,” you tell yourself.
You can hear distance voices talking and you can’t help but get a little paranoid. This time of night, the streets smelled of cigarette smoke and gasoline--a combination not pleasant to the nose. A nearby car alarm sounds making you gasp in fear. “Geez,” you exhale. The sounds of the night scared to half to death.
Finally, you get home safe and sound as you lock the door behind you, shutting the outside world out. You kick off your shoes at the doorway and drop your purse, sighing in relief. The bed called your name upstairs as you climbed the stairs sleepily, immediately crashing on your bed to fall asleep.
Back at Whyte Wyrm, Sweet Pea and his friends were hanging around, playing pool as Fangs walks in from taking a smoke break. “Hey, Pea,” he speaks as Sweet Pea looks up from the game of pool he was winning. “I think I just saw (Y/N) walking outside.”
Sweets furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “It’s one in the morning. Why would she be walking back from work so late?” he thinks to himself. Then, it hits him. “Why is she walking home from work when the Black Hood is still on the loose?” His anxiety gets the best of him as he tries to leave the bar, but Fangs pushes his chest back. 
“Hold on, lover boy. She’s fine. I saw her cross the Northside line. She’ll be fine,” Fangs tells him as Pea relaxes. Northside was much more safe than the Southside was at this time of night. “Make sure you talk to her,” Toni says behind Pea. “Who knows what could happen next time.”
That sentence rings in Sweet Pea’s mind as he continues to play pool until the bar shuts down at two.
The next morning you wake up, still in your uniform from work. You change into sweatpants and a shirt, walking downstairs. You are greeted with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a note hung to the fridge.
Went out to get groceries. Your dad took your brother to baseball. See you soon. XO, Mom
Smiling at the note, you pour yourself a cup of coffee. Sipping on the beverage, your phone starts to buzz in your pocket as you look at the caller ID. Sweet Pea’s name pops up on the screen as you smile to yourself. “Hey, Sweets,” you talk into the phone.
“Hey, baby. Are you home? I wanted to come talk to you,” he says on the other line. “Yeah, I just woke up. Is everything alright?” you ask, concern laced in your voice. You hoped this was nothing serious. “Everything is ok, don’t worry. I just need to talk to you,” he says as you release you breath. “I’ll be over soon.”
About ten minutes pass as you hear a knock on the door. Opening up the door, Sweet Pea stands there in his leather glory, you smiling. “Hey, handsome,” you smile as he dips down to kiss your lips. “Morning, beautiful,” he replies as he steps into your house. The two of you make your way into the kitchen and you pour him a cup of coffee. “What did you want to talk about?” you ask him, handing him his hot beverage.
“Right. So, last night, when I was at Whyte Wyrm,” he starts as you look at him, taking him in. God, he was gorgeous. “Fangs told me that he saw you...walking home...alone...at night...in the dark.” You smile hesitantly at his words. “Wanna tell me about that, baby?”
Groaning you try to talk, “Pea, it’s not that big of a deal. I was walking home from work. I took the late shift. So what?”
Pea raises his eyebrows. “So what? (Y/N), there is a serial killer on the loose in Riverdale, now targeting high school students. The streets aren’t safe during that time of night,” he scolds you as you roll your eyes. “I’m being serious. I don’t want you out late at night walking alone like that. I’m sure your parents feel the same way.”
Walking over to your boyfriend, you wrap your arms around his neck. “Sweets, I can take care of myself. I took self-defense classes before,” you tease as he pulls your hands away from his neck.
“A few measly punches is not gonna stop a murder with a gun,” he says, you sighing, knowing he’s right. “You aren’t gonna walk home alone anymore. Not while I’m around. You wanna work late, fine. That’s your choice. But you call me after you are done and I’ll come pick you up, okay?” he tilts your chin up so your gaze is on his. You nod your head as he places a kiss to your lips, sweetly. “I can’t risk losing you. I’d never forgive myself.”
Wrapping your arms back around his neck, you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Don’t you worry. I’m safe with you,” you tell him, smiling as he presses his lips to yours pulling you into him by your waist.
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chantalkrcmar · 4 years
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Whiplash: revisited
I did interviews in a basti (slum) in Belapur, Navi Mumbai on Friday evening, and it was the hardest time I’ve had in the field since starting my PhD research. Most of the time, I can compartmentalize my feelings. On a day to day basis — not just for doing my job, but also for simply living in Mumbai — I have to keep my feelings in check. Every day, I see people living in horrible conditions on the streets, children begging or selling stuff, children and adults maimed and mangled. The streets of Mumbai ain’t easy. And when I do my fieldwork on women in construction, I am talking to some of the most marginalized laborers in India. If I allowed myself to get too emotional, I couldn’t function. So I do my bit as a caring citizen of the world and as a feminist researcher, and I do get upset and perform random acts of kindness — but especially for work, I mainly keep my heart walled off.
But sometimes the fortress gets breached. And Friday was one of those times.
I went to a basti where 400 families live. It is large and sprawling, homes made of tattered bits of plastic and corrugated metal dotting a hillside in Navi Mumbai. They have water tapped in once a day from 8-10am; they have some community toilets; there is a stagnant creek nearby so I was told that malaria and dengue run rampant during monsoon; landslides during monsoon can also be an issue given how haphazard the construction is and how stripped the hill gets every time the basti spreads out more. Most of these slum dwellers (250 of the 400 families) have no formal right to this property, so they are considered “encroachers.” They face the constant threat of eviction. Poisonous snakes used to pose a problem, too — until people living in the basti learned how to catch and immobilize them.
My interpreter, a staff member from a local NGO, and I spent three hours there while I did interviews with women construction workers and chatted with a variety of family and community members. When we walked out I felt as if I had been there for 30 hours. Of course, I did not walk away wailing and gnashing my teeth — though the conditions there warrant that kind of reaction. I just felt deeply out-of-sorts and sad. I was rattled to my bones. I completely kept on my game face while I was in the field, but then it was time to let it down. It was so much to process — intellectually and emotionally. Sitting at this computer a mere two days later in the quiet of ASB’s Parent Cafe, looking at notes I had scribbled immediately after the fieldwork, I still don’t know exactly where to start.
So what got to me so much? And why this time?
Part of it may have been the timing of the interviews. I started around 4:30pm, and by the time we finished, it had grown dark. (At this time of year, it gets dark by 6:30pm in Mumbai.) While this basti does have electricity, it’s sporadic. Lights are very dim, at best. Talking to people in the gray light of dusk does make it feel…darker, more oppressive. Hard to see hope in a dark, dirty slum. Part of it may have been that I was at the tail-end of a long, bad cold so I entered the field pretty tired. We researchers are humans too.
Part of it was definitely that I saw lots of children on Friday. And they were not in great shape. They are children, so they still played and laughed. But most of them were downright filthy; many were totally naked; some were playing in a stroller that clearly had been retrieved from a trash heap. One of the girls — Anamika’s age and cute as a button with a little ponytail piled high on top of her head — clung to her grandmother as I interviewed her. Her grandma had been working in construction for the past fifty years; she started working as a child; lost her husband ten years into their young marriage; raised their two daughters on her own; now is mostly raising her grandchildren (but still working in construction — when she can get work). The little girl who reminded me of Anamika: her dad is an alcoholic and cannot take care of his family. My god, is her experience with her Papa way different than Anamika’s. Our daughter gets nothing but safety and security with and from her Papa.
The image that sticks with me the most from Friday is of two young men, boys really. Brothers, one now 18, the other 15. I met them while interviewing their mom and grandma. The 18 year old started working in construction when he was 13 years old; the 15 year old just started last year at 14 years old. 13 and 14. Hard, dangerous physical labor. Paid so poorly. And this is their path in life. Set so long ago. They never got educated since their parents moved around so much for work. Their mom and dad work in construction, so do their grandparents. And these boys, hard as their lives are, still have the swagger of adolescence. The 15 year old has both his ears pierced and wears gold earrings. They both were wearing knock-off designer jeans. They are good-looking boys — the younger one especially, with large deep brown eyes, a chiseled jaw, and a stylish haircut. I told Rahul that in another life, they would be chilling on their school campus, goofing off with friends, perhaps being mischievous in the classroom, getting lots of attention from the girls.
And while I interviewed their mom and grandma, the family and neighbors milled about. This is India where privacy and individual space are very hard to come by (one of the blessings and curses of such a community-oriented culture). I had privacy with the other women I interviewed on Friday, but could not manage it with this group. In the end, it was fine because I got way richer data from seeing the family interact, talking to the boys, and just allowing it to be “real.” The mom, her sons, grandmom, and grandpa sat on an old beaten up door which was balancing on top of an old beaten up, cushion-less sofa. I sat on an old beaten up cushion-less chair facing them. Let’s not talk about the filth factor.
For much of the time that we all talked, the 15 year old boy had his arm around his mom’s shoulders in an act of pure and comfortable affection. Perhaps he was protecting her in some ways. From me. From the harsh realities about which she spoke. Or maybe he was just having a sweet mother/son moment. Slums are tough and hard. Kids are not always treated with tenderness. The physical environment itself is extremely rough, so full of illness and bereft of soft, cozy things. Adults cannot afford to raise their kids to be sensitive. So seeing this tender moment really touched me.
These two boys got me. More than anything else that I heard or smelled or touched on Friday, it was these two boys. Later on, I found out from the NGO staff member that their mom engages in sex work on the side if she can’t get construction work. This is not an uncommon practice. Coming to know that afterwards, the son’s tenderness toward his mom touched me even more. Given the near impossibility of having any privacy in this setting, it is very likely that her family knows that she engages in sex work. I could not help but wonder how they all manage it, process it. Of course I could not ask. It’s not my place; the woman did not tell me herself.
The icing on this tough-to-swallow cake: Sitting behind this family during the interview was a girl who, I was told, just finished 8th standard (grade). Naively, I asked if she was going on to 9th. With a shy smile, she answered, “No. I am going to do domestic work.” In the field, it is not my place to judge, and I am very practiced at keeping my emotions to myself. All I said was, “Teek hai (ok).” Inside, though, I was seething. In what world does an 8th grader go to work instead of school?! Oh yeah, in this world.
After we left the basti and bid the NGO staff member farewell, my interpreter and I went to a little local spot where we chatted a bit over South Indian filter coffee (30 rupees, or 42 cents, for the best coffee ever!). We both needed a moment to catch our breath. There was a fair bit of sighing.
Then it was time to go home. My interpreter is a very gentle, but very big, bear of a young man. He has no troubles moving around Mumbai at night. Being a woman in a country known for its violence against women, it’s not so easy for me. I had gotten out to Navi Mumbai (about an hour and a half from home) by local metro. I was not keen on traveling such a long distance at night by myself in public transport, though, and my interpreter cautioned against it. I felt terribly guilty and conflicted about taking an uber. Surge pricing made my trip home 800 rupees (11.17 USD), and after what I had just seen in the basti, I felt badly about spending so much. I also felt like a wimp for not toughing out the metro. But reason triumphed over my emotions, and I took the uber. No sense in putting myself at risk. As I was riding home, I sent Rahul a message: “Another thing money buys: safety. I could choose to uber home. So many women don’t have that option and just have to take risks.”
When I got home on Friday night, I walked through our compound to get back to my comfortable building, my clean healthy sleeping daughter, my delicious home-cooked palak paneer waiting for me — overwhelmed by one of those acute feelings of whiplash that I wrote about in my last post. That feeling was intensified by seeing children from our compound playing on top of a large pile of cement bags. One of the buildings in our compound is being gutted and refurbished so there are construction materials lying around. These children on top of the cement bags were surrounded by watchful adults making sure they were climbing safely. They all had shoes and clothing on, and I am sure they had tummies full of dinner. To the children in my compound, this was just a fun game. A pile of cement bags for the children in the slum from which I had just come represents something very different. It represents work.
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thisdaynews · 4 years
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Pascal Siakam: Toronto Raptors star & his unconventional path from Cameroon to NBA
New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/pascal-siakam-toronto-raptors-star-his-unconventional-path-from-cameroon-to-nba/
Pascal Siakam: Toronto Raptors star & his unconventional path from Cameroon to NBA
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Siakam played a crucial role as Toronto Raptors won the NBA title last season
For the first 17 years of his life, Pascal Siakam didn’t pick up a basketball much. It was just a game his older brothers played.
Even though his father dreamt about one of his children growing up to play in the NBA, Siakam, the youngest of six siblings, was always more interested in other sports.
“I played soccer. I was good. I could have played soccer if I wanted,” he says.
The thing is, when you grow to be 6ft 7in tall, basketball is tough to ignore.
Considering Siakam has been playing the sport for under 10 years, his resume is more than impressive. Now 25, last season he was crowned the NBA’s most improved player. He was a major contributor as the Toronto Raptors won their first NBA championship title.
The path that led him there is not what you would call conventional.
Born in Douala, Cameroon’s economic capital, Siakam spent much of his youth at St Andrews Seminary, training for the priesthood in a small town called Bafia.
Eight hours’ drive from home, and with the discipline of the Catholic Church a strong presence in his world, Siakam didn’t always get to enjoy the vibrant lights of city life. But the experience strongly shaped him – and who he would become.
“It was really strict,” he says. “When I went there, I didn’t really know how to do a lot of things. It really taught me how to be a man. How to take responsibility and take care of myself.
“Going out there in the world by myself, finding a way and fighting on my own. I learnt those values there.”
For much of Siakam’s seven years at St Andrews, basketball wasn’t even a consideration. There were daily 5am wake-up calls, with a demanding schedule of chores and tasks to occupy time around studies.
His family thought the priesthood was something he might choose to pursue as vocation. Again Siakam thought differently.
“Obviously you’re around church and that’s what you do every day,” he says. “My dad at some point thought it could be something I wanted to do but it was never my calling.”
It turns out his calling would come from the sport he had spent much of his life trying to avoid.
Siakam has carried on from where he left off last season – starring in Toronto’s strong start to 2019-20
In 2011, Siakam went along with friends to a basketball camp organised by Cameroonian NBA star Luc Mbah a Moute. Now a veteran of the league for 10 seasons, Mbah a Moute, 33, still runs annual basketball camps in his homeland. They also helped another player from the country make it in the NBA – Joel Embiid, the 25-year-old Philadelphia 76ers centre.
Despite never having played organised basketball before, aged 17, Siakam’s competitiveness and athleticism were impossible to ignore and a year later he was invited to attend the NBA’s international development program, Basketball without Borders (BWB), in South Africa.
“It was a big thing for me,” Siakam says. “Not because I had a great basketball experience there but the environment around it. The NBA, the coaches. It opened my eyes to a different world that I didn’t really know about.
“It got me excited and I felt like, if I got a chance to go the US and play, why not? Also, get a good education. That was the dream.”
Playing in the NBA was at this stage still never an expectation – not for Siakam nor those close to him. But he was gaining admirers.
“He was a scrawny, skinny kid,” says Masai Ujiri, Toronto Raptors president, who first met Siakam in South Africa at the BWB camp in 2012. “But you could tell his skillset. He had scoring in him. He was just very passionate about the game. You could tell it was his all. I loved that about him.”
Ujiri is one of the NBA’s most admired executives for the way he has overseen the Raptors’ recent rise to the top. Like Siakam, he was raised in Africa – in Nigeria – and for years he has looked to invest in the continent, both through the NBA and individually, with his own outreach programme, Giants of Africa.
Of course, at the time of their first meeting in 2012 Ujiri had no idea that four years later he would be drafting Siakam as a first-round pick. But he could see a special energy, a spark to his game. It has stayed with him.
“He was just so competitive and wanted to win,” Ujiri says. “You see that mind developing. For a kid to have that at a young age, it transfers. When Pascal plays now, you see winning.”
Siakam says: “I wasn’t the greatest player but I was relentless, having that mentality to never give up and always go hard no matter what.
“I’m an athlete. Anything that involves running or jumping I’ve always been excited about, so basketball was exciting.”
By 2012, Siakam’s three older brothers had each gained scholarships in the United States. The younger Siakam would soon follow suit. His energy and enthusiasm at BWB had piqued the interest of scouts from the US. He was offered the chance to move to Lewisville to finish high school. Now aged 18, he would be leaving a whole life behind.
“Moving from Cameroon to Texas, that was a change. Learning English, the culture, everything was different so I had to adjust,” he says.
“But I’ve always been able to change scenery. From a young age, I was taught how to do that and I kind of do it naturally.”
After graduating from high school, Siakam gained a scholarship with New Mexico State University. While he was there, in October 2014, tragedy struck. His father Tchamo was killed in a car accident back home in Cameroon. Everything Siakam has done on a basketball court since is an energetic tribute to his dad.
“My dad worked hard to take care of six kids,” Siakam says. “He worked hard to make sure we had everything we needed. He had his dream and I’m able to fulfil that. I’m proud that I’m able to do that now. I just wish he was here to see it.”
Siakam with members of his family at the NBA Awards ceremony in 2019, where he was named Most Improved Player
Siakam left New Mexico State after two seasons of college basketball. Despite having only played the sport seriously for four years, he departed as the Western Athletic Conference Player of the Year.
Still, for some, he was seen as a risky pick at the draft in 2016.
“My guys are very good,” Masai Ujiri says. “One of our global scouts, Patrick Engelbrecht, he told me: ‘Keep an eye on him.’
“He took me to watch him a few times. Over the years, you keep tabs on them and you follow their improvement.”
Siakam had sufficiently improved in Ujiri’s eyes to draft him 27th in the first round. His journey with the Raptors would begin.
Jama Mahlalela is the head coach of the Raptors developmental side. He coached Siakam during his first season in the NBA where he flipped between the G-league squad and the main team. For him, Siakam’s energy and enthusiasm were clear from the beginning.
“We talk a lot about ‘positionless’ basketball players,” Mahlalela says. “Players who aren’t just one specific thing. Pascal is that. He can play point guard through to centre. That’s an incredible skillset to bring to the table.
“He drives himself, day-in-day-out. He doesn’t accept where he is today, he’s always striving for what player he can be tomorrow.”
This season is Siakam’s fourth with Canadian side Toronto. He went into the year with added expectation. They say in the NBA you need a superstar to win. Last season’s title success proved that.
After years of play-off failure, Ujiri and the Raptors swung for the fences and traded away arguably the franchise’s most decorated player DeMar DeRozan for a disgruntled superstar Kawhi Leonard. The risk paid off and the Raptors were at times seemingly willed to success by Leonard’s brilliance alone. His summer departure to the Los Angeles Clippers left them devoid of a superstar.
It’s a void the Raptors are confident Siakam can fill. Fresh from awarding him a new max contract that will pay him a reported $130m(£99.7m) over four years, the Raptors believe the only way for Siakam is up. The transformation from reluctant baller to superstar appears to be complete.
“Being a champion, I think it brings more confidence and that’s a scary thing for the NBA. Pascal with even more confidence is trouble,” Mahlalela says.
“He’s naturally a confident player, he plays that way and I think now, having the confidence to say I won this thing already as one of the key players on a championship team, that is going to build his confidence even more.”
The Toronto Raptors beat the Golden State Warriors 4-2 in the best-of-seven series to win the 2019 NBA Finals
The championship glow still lingers. Siakam returned to Cameroon for the first time in seven years this summer when he took the NBA trophy back to the Giants of Africa basketball camp organised by Masai Ujiri.
“Being around those kids who dreamed to one day be where I am today, just bringing them a taste of the trophy, something they can touch, it was an amazing feeling,” he says.
“Growing up, I didn’t have the chance to have that around so it was a special moment for sure.”
Despite the remarkable transformation – from a kid who would wake up at 5am to complete chores in a seminary to a multi-million dollar basketball player on the verge of superstardom – Siakam remains incredibly humble.
Because the Raptors are the only team outside the United States in the NBA, there’s a feeling within the organisation that they are often overlooked. But the unlikely champions now hope to be led to further success by a guy with the most unlikely of stories. A guy who dreamed of being a footballer and might have ended up a priest.
“The type of mentality we have on the team is, there’s a lot of underdogs and guys that have always been in that position,” Siakam says.
“If you ask any champion, once they get that taste of winning, they always want it back. So for me, that’s my next focus.
“We have a completely different team, people stepping up into new roles, and it’s exciting. That is what you play for.”
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Princess Alexandria Part 2: To Protect Our Future
I would like to thank you all for your patience and I hope this was worth the wait. Of course, there will be a few more parts to this story yet to come and hopefully they will not take as long to write. 
A number of unavoidable reasons interrupted my writing progress - including work and the flooding in my area has hindered the progress of my writing. But, I said I have a gift for you and today I deliver. 
The coming stories will be the next chapter of GedUni and some one shots too. Hopefully, I will have these posted sooner than later and not leave you all hanging for a long period of time. 
Warnings: NSFW after Walter and Julius and it turns back to Klaus and Asana. 
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Warmth from the fire kept the snow’s cold air from freezing their bodies inside the home. Mary and Elaine were reading in the chambers and Elias was catching up on his magic theory ahead of returning to school in the coming weeks. Two weeks had passed since Klaus arrived home with Asana to introduce his future wife to the rest of the family.
To Walter and Julius her arrival was a fortunate encounter as they reread the forensic and DNA reports from the bones and the possible link between Asana and Alexandria. “She was the key to this case all along,” he mumbled hiding his truest thoughts on the matter, though not unnoticed by Julius.
“A copy was sent to King Harold?” Julius wondered.
“Yes,” Walter nodded, but soon fell to silence. “Though, I have heard a response from him.”
“And?” curious to the King’s reaction, Julius urged for a response and poured himself a fresh mug of coffee to help get him through the mountains of research he would have to find regarding the Princess’ alias name and character – Alexia May.
“He…is interested in meeting Ms Way but wants to toast to his Aunt finally being found,” Walter revealed, this grand ball not in any way a secret from the public, “A story was published on our King and King Harold agreeing to host the ball in the coming months on the date in which her Highness should have been crowned Queen.”
“That’s soon,” Julius said, turning his attention to the table calendar, “Why that’s a week from now.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Nothing published about Asana?”
“No,” Walter had been grateful that her relationship to the Princess remained a classified secret and secretly thanked the King and his team for their silent discretion.
“Does Asana know?” Julius asked, his likeness to her raising his father’s head to gaze at his expression to see the fondness for her in his eyes.
Walter chuckled, “…This is the second time you have called her by her first name. Do you approve of her this much?”
Naturally, a big brother-like smile curled across his face, “Where is Klaus ever going to find a caring and nice girl like her in his life-time?” he jokingly quizzed his father, and added to the jab, “Though, I can’t understand what it is a good and pure girl like her even sees in Klaus. He’s not the most approachable man in the world, and he has a great talent of scaring girls away.”
Walter gave a troubled smile in reply.
The usually expressionless wizard giving subtle hints of his troubled thoughts that someone who knew him well, like Julius, would pick up but would not be made clear to any stranger who hardly knew him. “What is it?” Julius asked, tired of guessing what his father was thinking.
Walter couldn’t tell him what troubled him, only this case had taken a complicated turn and the road ahead is likely to be a rough one, “This case…I should never have taken it if I knew it was going to become this complicated.” he sighed.
“You mean, you didn’t stop to think why a one-hundred-year-old case was classified from the start?” the question that had been bothering Julius the most slipped out of his mouth before he could stop and think about it, “Seems…odd.”
His son’s question was not what was complicated since he already knew why it was classified but never thought the danger of the case would become personal. Walter opted not to tell him but instead changed Julius job in this decisive action, “Listen, I will have Elias research the life of Alexia May, since he doesn’t seem too busy, but I want you to focus on this case,” he handed his son a folder.
It felt weird to Julius, “…Murders of investigators?” his eyebrows rose in confusion, “Isn’t this more a police job than an investigator to the Ministry?” He read some tabs sticking out from the folder with notes and names written in his father’s handwriting, “Lady Meredith? You mean, the King’s cousin?”
No longer able to hide, Walter revealed a small excerpt of the truth of this mission, “…The very same, she’s also a candidate for Rhymer’s crown but she’s suspected of murdering previous investigators trying to solve the mystery of Alexandria’s disappearance. Whoever did the murders or organised them, are preventing some truth from being revealed. The way I see it, they already know the truth about Alexandria but we are ahead of them of finding another potential candidate to take the crown.”
“Asana?”
“The Rhymer bloodline is thin and the potential for appropriate candidates are rare. In recent years, many of the other candidates disappeared but there remains Asana. If Lady Meredith is the mastermind behind these murders, it won’t be long before she realises she is positioned against Asana for the crown.”
“Wait, one second,” Julius knew Asana had no knowledge of any of this, “Are you suggesting Asana’s life is in danger over a position she doesn’t have any idea she’s in? No ever said she would ascend to the throne!”
“Why else would the King want to find any living descendants of the Princess?” Walter logically argued his debate and added, “Lust for power is a vicious game, especially when it is royalty involved. Whoever is willing to commit murder to secure their ownership of that crown will do anything, even to an innocent and unknowingly, even unwilling, rival, like Asana.”
Julius blinked in disbelief and felt a displeasure of not being aware of the entire truth about this case, “If you knew this, why did you accept such a dangerous job?” his eyes cutting into his father’s.
“I had no idea when I accept the job that it would turn as complicated as affecting my own family,” he assured his son, his tone defensive, “My priority has changed from learning about Alexia May to protecting Ms Way and Klaus from immediate harm. However, this needs to be done smartly and with finesse. We do this wrong, the results may be catastrophic for the entire kingdom too.”
“This is taking such a sudden turn, you should have told me this sooner!” Julius, rarely a man to question his father’s actions, had scowled his expression to convey his unhappiness and indignant emotions across to him, “You have to tell Klaus.”
Walter had never told him that their true objective, the entire time, was to find an heir and find a murderer, but had been withholding the information because of the fragile nature of the case and strict instructions to keep the sensitive details only to himself, even from his team. An order he, now, chose to disobey.
“Listen, be discreet about this investigation,” he warned his son, “When I accepted the case, I was under strict instruction to keep the classified mission to myself, even from my team, and pursue it myself, but now the safety of my own family is jeopardised I am choosing to disobey these orders.”
Walter, having ignored Julius’ frustrations, delivered his firm instructions but his eyes begged for trust and cooperation from his son. Staying silent, Julius could only trust his father and decided to take the case to his chambers where he could research in peace and leave his father to organise a strategy, “…Fine, but you need to tell Klaus.”
Walter thought better of it, “…If the urgency to protect Asana is required I will then tell him the truth until then, he is doing what he always does. Stays by her side and protects her, therefore he is already doing his job.”
“…Are you sure?” Julius didn’t want to doubt his father but his heart was telling him to tell his little brother the truth.
Walter glared up at him, “What of the reason for your doubt?”
“Well, if it was Elaine in danger, I would want to know who is threatening her,” he replied and added, “Also, I would know who I am protecting her against and can gauge how dangerous they could be to my wife’s life. Would you not do the same if it was Mom?”
“This is not a normal case, Julius,” Walter reminded him, “We are dealing with the Rhymer royal family and our actions have consequences for both our nations. Let me ask you, can I trust your brother will keep his emotions in check and maintain a level head?”
Julius understood his father’s point of view but he also knew his own brother, “Dad, if you tell him the truth now and explain everything to him in a calmer environment he will keep a straight head. But, if something happens to her and he’s angry, to expect him to even listen to you. Seeing those two in these short weeks, even you know, he loves her. He announced his feelings about her very clearly when he faked being engaged to her, it was his statement.”
Walter chuckled, “He certainly is captivated by her,” his expression relaxed and his mind ticked with thoughts on how to approach this situation and realised Julius had a valid point about telling Klaus the truth, “Perhaps you might be right Julius. I have much to think over.”
“Alright, I trust you to make the best decisions Dad,” Julius said and made his way to the office door, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
Alone in his office, Walter opened the blinds to watch the white snow fall from the grey clouds blanketing the indigo sky behind it. The falling flakes replenishing the snow-covered garden relaxed his brain to rationally find the best approach to this case, calculating the risks and challenges presented in the case. Firstly, he remembered the meeting with the King’s chief advisor and what the young man had told him that day he accepted the mission, never foretelling it would directly his own family and an innocent girl who had no idea what she was being dragged into through no fault of her own.
“Sir, Alan would like to see you in his office,” one of his intern agents had knocked shyly on the door and relayed the message onto him, her voice trying to sound confident.
Walter held an office as the head of the Dark Magic and Homicide Crimes division of the Ministry and managed many teams and their assignments, along with his own team and missions too. He made magic tools to assist the Ministry across all areas of magic but that day he was not in the greatest of moods.
While arresting, a criminal wanted for minor dark magic offences, a young agent’s magic damaged the home of a single mother and an innocent bystander. Because of that, he had constant interruptions preventing him from working his own cases and continue his progress on a magic tool he had been brainstorming.
Now, the head boss of the Ministry requested him to his office. Standing by the door, the young brunette girl waited for his answer so she could relay it back to the chief assistant to the chief boss, “Sir?”
“I am on my way,” he sighed, “Also, when I come back have that young man in my office.”
“Yes Sir.”
Several times, Walter had been presented by the parliamentary minister overlooking the work of the Ministry to take the position of Chief Boss, but each time he declined because he enjoyed and found it more rewarding to join his team when taking on tough assignments. His experience and knowledge he could impart to the younger generation. The current Chief Boss, Alan, happened to be a dear friend.
Frequently, Alan only summoned Walter to share a friendly drink and conversation. Though, he could never gauge, each time, if he wanted to have a serious conversation about work or to simply relax and engage in a friendly conversation. Today, he said to himself in his head, was not a day for a drink and conversation about their families and children. He had a full plate of work he doubted would be finished by dinner.
Reluctantly, he pressed the button and waited for the elevator and listened to the work going on behind him. Another man stepped to his side but did not look to him in case there was some trouble that warranted his attention. Together, the men stepped into the elevator but Walter was not near the buttons, “Top floor,” grumpily, he demanded the button to be pressed and without a hint of hesitation the man pushed the button to his own floor and Walter’s.
“Chief boss, huh?” he hoped to ignite conversation.
Walter remained silent, checking the time on his wrist watch, “Lunch time,” he sighed, hoping this was not going to be a waste of his time.
The elevator travelled to the top of the sky-high building overlooking the city in the foreground and the ocean in the background with the blue and white clouds hanging above, gifting the people of the city with a stunning day.
His shoes tapped across the tiles of the office foyer towards the desk of the Chief Assistant. The young man at the front desk ignored Walter as he stepped to the desk, “Ahem,” Walter cleared his throat and the young man looked up at him through his curling strands of his blonde fringe, hanging at eyeline.
“Oh, Sir Goldstein!” he panicked.
Jumping from his chair, the young man gave two loud knocks to the heavy wooden double doors, “Sir Klein, Sir Goldstein is here,” he politely informed the man behind the door.
“Yes, send him in Eric,” a deep but crisp voice laughed from behind the door.
The man, named Eric, escorted Walter through the door, “Is there anything I get for you Sir Goldstein?” the young man courteously asked.
“No,” Walter curtly answered, closing the door behind his back.
Immediately, his aged and sharp violet eyes squared onto a young man with dark short hair standing by the armchair he had made himself comfortable in while awaiting his presence to Alan’s office. “Are you inviting more people to have drinks with you, Alan?” Walter joked, shaking his friend’s hand and turning to the younger man in the room.
No older than his eldest son, the man appeared well-presented in a designer tailored suit fitting his body elegantly. He stood tall and with a good posture, he appeared in good health and presented himself clean-shaven. Accepting the handshake, the young man spoke first, his voice confident, clean and eloquent, “Osias Elwood, it is a pleasure to meet you Sir Walter Goldstein.”
Alan chimed now chimed in, “Mister Osias Elwood, Walter Goldstein is a dear friend of mine with the hell of a record when it comes to cracking the toughest of cases. I assure he will do this case and find the answers your King needs.”
Looking at him and listening to Alan’s comment, it made sense the young man had come from the palace but what confused Walter is why he was here meeting with him, “For what business does an employee from the royal palace have at the Ministry and with me?” he phrased his question charmingly.
No need for Alan to speak on Osias’ behalf, the young man began to speak but it was unnecessary heroic praise buttering Walter up to whatever this man wanted, or rather what the King wanted, “Sir, allow me to say it is an honour to meet one of Gedonelune’s finest wizards,” his speech had a trained charisma and sophisticated charm Walter admired, “I do apologise for interrupting your work today but I am here on behalf of King Harold of the Rhymer Kingdom.”
His admission surprised Walter since he was an employee of a foreign kingdom, also a magical land, with their own organisation for maintaining order and justice in the magical world.
Alan watched the meeting proceed and Walter glanced across to him, attempting to gauge what he had been summoned to, “It is not often we receive visits from an employee of an allied kingdom?” Walter quizzed, still glancing across at Alan to fill him in, he didn’t like beating around the bush.
“No, sir, I imagine you don’t,” Osias chuckled slightly.
A small silence cueing the young man to explain his presence, “However, I am here on a formal request by His Majesty King Harold. Recently, my King has embarked on another quest to unlock the truth his ancestral Aunt’s mysterious disappearance one hundred years ago, but previous investigations have resulted in investigators never returning or turning up deceased without a shred of information regarding the legendary Princess,” he said.
“Recent events within the blood line of the royal family has made him…paranoid. Heirs have gone missing through strange circumstances. He believes someone is behind these attacks and can’t trust his own magical organisation to conduct the investigations. With permission by your King and government, we have approved a request for Gedonelune’s Ministry to investigate in good faith to our allegiance and the promise of a cooperative successor in the future.”
Walter stared at the man dubiously and had become slightly confused about what the young man was asking for him to investigate exactly, “It sounds as though there are three separate investigations I am being asked to do here. Simplify it for me, what does the King wish to know?”
“Anything you can tell him about the disappearance and life of Princess Alexandria, he has come to understand remains possibly hers had been dug up in the countryside of this country. Especially, any news on if she has living descendants,” that was the first objective of this case.
“To find an heir?”
Osias nodded in confirmation of his sharp mind, “Yes, and to quench his curiosity over what happened to her after the siege. His Majesty is a family man and considers himself a father-like figure to his people, and wishes to, before he abdicates his crown, solve this riddle as a parting gift to his family and his country.”
“Alright, but old bones are not my division,” Walter shot a glare over to Alan, “Next is to find a murderer.”
“…Yes,” Osias nodded again, his confident tone not fading but his expression pained, “Many relatives of the King have suddenly disappeared without a trace. No one has uncovered any evidence but he is sure that someone is behind these attacks?”
“He seems quite positive,” Walter said, “Why does he believe someone is behind the attacks?”
Osias didn’t turn away from the older man as he carefully chose how to answer Walter’s question, “The royal family’s blood line is thin since many were killed during the siege but also because of a recent war. Those close to the King know he is about to abdicate but he knows his only potential heir, Lady Meredith, is a cunning and devious woman who has…plans for our country, bad plans. He knows because a loyal servant to the King overheard her speaking to an agent of our Magic Council. He is of the belief that she has something do to with these killings.”
“And of the investigators too?”
Osias was not certain, “I apologise, that remains unclear to me,” he said, “However, I what I can tell you, of my knowledge about their disappearance. My liege hired three previous investigators, wizards in archaeology and research, to explore the legend of Princess Alexandria, with access to the royal palace and all, to find what happened to her and if she has any living relatives in the per chance she ran away, and to report their findings. One went missing and turned up dead weeks later and the other two were found dead by villagers in a town they had been lead to by their investigations.”
“So, that is my second and third objective,” Walter inhaled a deep breath.
Alan understood Walter apprehension to take the case but he chimed in with a comment that could convince him to take on the case, “Walter, you are a good friend of mine and the King is quite fond of you and your family too. He personally recommended you to his long-distant cousin and I agreed.”
“I am flattered, truly,” Walter scratched the back of his head. “I—.”
“King Harold would have requested to meet you himself, but we are operating under strict classified instructions,” Osias said, “He figured a famous and talented wizard, like yourself, would be too noticeable to go missing and too powerful not to put up a good fight. Please understand the fragile nature of the case,” his urgency and warnings convinced Walter not to accept the case.
“You don’t have much experience in negotiation, do you?” he rhetorically quizzed.
Osias pushed a folder into Walter’s arms for him to look over if he’s interested in taking the mission, “This is the evidence we have gathered on Lady Meredith and other potential suspects,” he informed, and added, “Also, primary attempts to find the Princess the day she disappeared,” his voice bouncing with excitement that he would accept the case.
“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, kid,” Walter chuckled at the kid’s energy. “Is there any evidence of magical interference with the deceased members of the royal family and the investigators?”
“There is a coroner report included in the file but a short answer to your question – yes.”
Silenced ensued between the three but a dark cloud formed above Walter’s head as he questioned taking on the case. He turned to Alan and back to Osias, “Young man, I am an experienced wizard and I am the Chief of Dark Crimes and Homicide Division of the Ministry. I am not about to accept a job with danger written all over it without doing it my own way, with my own people and with a guarantee from both Kings that my findings or my conduct will not cause differences between our nations.”
Osias pulled a contract from his briefcase, “I was hoping you would say that,” he said and held the single sheet out to Walter, “King Harold is not going to interfere with how you decide to approach this case. After all, he is a kind-hearted man asking a favour of his cousin’s agents and feels terrible for the families of those three investigators who lost their lives trying to solve the mystery surrounding her disappearance.”
Holding out the contract and a pen, Osias hoped he would consent to this case being confidential. Walter, however, did not like the idea of being restricted and sworn to secrecy woven by magic, “I refuse to sign your contract based on it being ridiculous,” Walter read through the contents, “A magically sworn contract whereby I do not tell the classified secrets of this case to another person. How am I supposed to interview persons of interest without providing details of the case?”
“Um…,” Osias realised he had an excellent point.
“What about my team?”
“Team?”
“You don’t expect a busy man like myself to conduct a dangerous mission alone and without back up in case I land in trouble?” Walter argued, “This is a fundamental rule in survival on missions I impart onto all my young agents. No matter how harmless or dangerous the case may be, check in with your location via their tracker devices or through word of mouth to a family member, colleague or anyone who might be able to find them when they land in trouble.”
“I see.”
Walter shook his head and chuckled, “No way. If I am to do a case this dangerous where my life or that of my team, or god forbid we find a living relative of the Princess, who’s life will be in danger from this Lady Meredith you suspect of murdering off her rivals, then I expect to have full control over how it is handled. I understand the King is paranoid, but what will I gain from betraying my own King’s cousin? For certain, I am not about to risk the lives of myself and my team, or an innocent life, because of a foreign squabble over a crown, a lust for ultimate political power. Understand?” He spoke sternly and straight forward.
“I believe King Harold will agree to those terms,” Osias had no objections and withdrew the contract from the table and handed Walter a personal letter from the King to verify and thank Walter for taking the mission on board, “I hope you will now accept the job,” he smiled handing him the letter.
A part of him still doubted about accepting the job but he did accept it. “If this is all, I wish to return to my office. I have a young agent who needs scolding.”
“Again, thank you for helping our kingdom and good luck with the case.”
He had accepted a mission without the knowledge the case would be closer to his heart that he could not foresee. Watching the snow falling from the sky, he couldn’t predict how things were about to turn out and he decided Julius was right. Klaus should know the details so he can best protect Asana while he put all his resources into eliminating the threat to the lives of his family.
Turning his chair around, he sent a magic note to Klaus room to request his presence in his office where he would tell him the truth of the nature of the case. After he had sent the message to his son and waited for him to come hither, he continued to brainstorm the best strategy. In his collection of papers, he reviewed what he knew about Lady Meredith and decided he needed a close eye to watch her movements, not jumping to the conclusion she could be the only person behind these murders.
Inside his chambers, Klaus had pulled the sofa in front of the fireplace and snuggled up with Asana, embracing the warmth around him. His strong arms held her close to his own warmth, her light and delicate body wrapped elegantly inside the cotton fabric of her lavender negligee. Her head rested on his shoulder, occupying the space between his neck and shoulder with his fingers gently stroking her skin. Pink eyes drifted between being awake and falling asleep while he quietly read a novel.
“…This is nice,” she admitted, further cuddling into his warm body with her body fitting his perfectly, “It’s almost like…my body was made for you,” she wiggled her body to squeeze closer to him.
“You are like a cat,” he commented, unable to fight the smile forming across his face.
Shifting his body slightly to allow her to seek the comfort she wanted, his arm tightened around her waist to hold her close too. “You can go to sleep if you’re tired,” he turned his head to reach his lips over to kiss her forehead.
“…You’re very warm and comfortable and secure…it’s hard to stay awake,” she mumbled and let out a big yawn, “…I love you, Klaus.”
He chuckled, “I love you too.”
“…What are you reading?” she was already half-asleep.
“I am reading a fantasy novel,” he answered, his voice sexily whispering into her ear, “It’s about a wizard who falls in love with a fairy but the fairy King forbids the relationship. The wizard decides to make a deal with the King to trade his human life to become a fairy, sacrificing his heart.”
“…Hm, sounds romantic,” she murmured.
“Romantic?” Klaus didn’t agree, “It’s rather…morbid. He dies.”
“…But dying for the person you love can be considered melodramatic romance,” she mumbled, her breath tickling his neck as she spoke.
He couldn’t agree with her, “Would you want me to die for you to prove my love?”
“…No, of course not, I love you and I want to grow old with you.”
“Really, you want to grow old with me?” he smiled, knowing she was the most honest her half-sleeping state, “Will you still love me when I am aa grumpy old man?”
She fluttered her eyes open to gaze at his side-long profile, “Of course I will,” she planted a kiss the side of his jaw, “But, will you love me when I’m a little old lady?”
His eyes could no longer concentrate on the words in the story. Closing the book and discarding it to the coffee table, he shifted his body to readjust her position over the top of him. Gently cupping her face inside the palm of his large hand, he smiled and leaned in for a kiss. Pulling away, keeping his lips close to hers, he replied to her question, “I will never stop loving you,” in his mind, he could vividly see their perfect future but his heart worried if their dream of living together would be allowed to happen, “I can see you baking cookies for our grandchildren.”
She giggled, her imagination seeing their future together too, “I have to take care of my family,” she said and leaned to meet his lips in a deeper kiss. “It would make me the happiest woman in the world to be by your side for the rest of our lives and raising our family together, Klaus.”
“Asana…”
Her words pushed his buttons that he coaxed her legs forward to straddle around his body. His large hand cupped around her neck to slip his tongue pass her lips to passionately kiss her. Within her chest, her heart pounded and her mind started to lose all sense as his hands and lips ignited her senses and spread waves of pleasure through her body, “Klaus…,” she whispered his name as he pulled her up into a sitting position and he rose his body to begin peeling her negligee from her body.
His lips strayed from her lips to trail a line of open-mouthed kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. Pulling her gown up over her head, her bare breasts were exposed to him and her creamy skin was warm and bathed in the glow of the flames from the fire next to them. What started out sweet bubbled into a passionate moment.
In the movement, he felt her hands crawl underneath his shirt and he allowed her to strip the long-sleeved shirt from his body. Their lips coming together again to seek each other’s taste. He could feel her hands cupping around his face and her fingers brushing through his golden hair. Securing her body in the strength and comfort of his arms, he raised his hips so she could feel his growing erection underneath her, his lips descending her neck again and her sweet and soft moans fuelling him on and filling the room.
Suddenly, she felt her body beginning to tip backwards onto the couch beneath her. A never-ending wave of pleasure rolled through her body as Klaus’ body came to hover above hers. Either side of his waist, her legs straddled around him as she became drunk on his love. Before she had time to think, his lips came back to hers as he repositioned himself above her.
Completely covered by his body, he paid close attention to the way she accepted his love. Her hands feeling up and down his trained and broad body. Eventually, her hands went further down to the band of his pyjama bottoms. However, he grabbed her hand and kissed the palm, “Not yet,” he said, extending his kisses down her arm and across to her breast.
She felt his tongue swirl around the pink bud of her breast nipple and his fingers dance their way underneath the band of her underwear. Unable to think straight, her appreciative moans filled the room as he slipped his fingers in between her legs, “Klaus!” Eyes closed, she accepted every touch, his fingers thrusting gently in and out of her body to prolong the feeling, “Ah, Klaus,” her breathing hitched and she could feel her core stirring with an unbearable pleasure driving her towards her orgasm.
Unlatching his lips from her hardened breast, his planted open-mouthed kisses down her slender stomach plane. Her hands latched onto the armrest behind her as her body squirmed underneath his electrifying touch. Pulling back, he ripped open her laced underwear and brought her leg up over his shoulder until it eventually came to wrap around his neck. She was dripping wet and he smiled at hearing her breathing hitch before he made contact.
“You know what I’m going to do?”
“Yes…,” she waited for his touch and peered into his violet eyes. “…Do it,” she wanted him to continue.
“Demanding me, are you?” he smirked.
“…Please, Klaus,” she begged.
“Anything you want, my love.”
She watched his head disappear between her legs and whimpered as he drove his lips and tongue right into her wet centre, her back arching in response to his intense touch. “Klaus,” she moaned his name, feeling her body ready to fall apart. “Klaus…I’m close…,” she warned him but it only spurred him to continue, moving to suck on the bud between her legs. That’s all it took for her orgasm to rip through her body.
He swallowed her juices without hesitation and hovered over her body again to seal her lips in a passionate kiss. “Klaus,” her sweet voice reaching his ears as he pressed against her body and kissed across her shoulder blade, “I need you,” she begged him, not yet satisfied and with her own hands and feet, pulled his pants and underwear down to free his erection, “Please.”
As he was about to push into her, the magic note his father had sent floated underneath his door and floated down onto the sofa where he pushed his hard length into her body to her appreciative moans. He noticed the magic note there but he ignored it for the moment. Pulling back out, he pushed into her again, keeping the pace and the hardness consistent. “Shall we take this to the bed,” he suggested.
She nodded to his suggestion and feeling her body being lifted into his arms, keeping their kiss connected. Slipping between the blankets, they sunk into their love and fell asleep in each other’s arms. The hours creeping towards the early morning.
Still awake, Walter had already asked Elias to conduct research into Alexia May. However, he had not yet heard a response from Klaus, and like his son, he didn’t like to be ignored or kept waiting. With Elias agreeing to help his father with this minor job, Walter turned to Klaus’ chambers and banged loudly on the door, “Klaus?”
Asana slept through Walter’s loud knocking but squirmed and tossed over to cuddle into his arms. Klaus, tired, ignored him and gave a half-hearted effort to wake up but fell asleep again. “Klaus, open up the door, for goodness sake,” Walter grumpily urged him.
Again, he ignored his father with a groan.
Sick and tired of being ignored, Walter opened the door to the sight of them sleeping naked. Inhaling a sharp breath, he walked over to Klaus and gently flicked his forehead so he would wake up while shielding his eyes to block out Asana’s figure. “Wake up!”
“A decent person would see that we are sleeping which is normal for this hour of the night,” Klaus grumbled and fluttered his eyelids to open, “It better be important.”
“I think you will find it is,” Walter assured him, “Now, get dressed and be in my office in ten minutes,” he ordered and marched from his chambers back to his office.
The movement of Klaus’ body from underneath her caused her to wake up, “…Who was that?” she mumbled, squinting her eyes from being woken up.
Klaus kissed her lips and forehead, “It was Dad. He needs to talk to me about something,” he leaned in to kiss her again and raised the sheets to cover her body, “I won’t be long. Go to sleep.”
He only grabbed a pair of a long pants to cover his naked body and headed down the cold hall to his father’s warm office, one side of his golden hair sticking up. Knocking on the door, he didn’t need to introduce himself and let himself in, “What is it? It’s nearly one in the morning.”
“I sent you a message, did you not receive it?” Walter turned his gaze up at him.
“I did but I was…engaged with other activities.”
Walter rolled his eyes at his son’s satisfied smirk, “Yes, so I realised when I had to fetch you myself,” he said, and felt a need to ask a concerned question as a father, “Please tell me that you are wearing protection?”
Klaus chuckled, “Is it a bit too late to have that talk with me, Dad?”
“Klaus, I used to be a boy too and when I wasn’t careful your brother happened. It can happen to even the most prepared and logical men,” Walter replied, “Boys can lose all their senses when it comes to attractive girls.”
“Well, she will be the mother of your grandchildren someday,” Klaus stated, “Though if this is all you want to talk to me about then I am going to pretend I didn’t hear it and return to my girlfriend,” he walked towards the door.
Walter stopped him before he left his office, “I am not done with you!” his father annoyingly glared at him, “Sit down,” he pointed across his desk to an armchair, “There is something I need to discuss with you and it concerns Ms Way.”
Eyebrows raised, Klaus did as his father asked but instead went to the stove to pour himself a cup of tea to help wake his mind, “I assume this concerns the Princess Alexandria case?”
“Yes,” Walter nodded, his chair creaking as he leaned forward in his chair, his expression turning serious.
“This seems serious,” Klaus commented.
“You may not like what I am about to tell you but the only reason why I am telling you is because I trust your brother’s judgement about you,” Walter said, and paused, “Now, I will tell you this, Asana’s life may be put in danger because of her direct relation to the Princess.”
Walter’s tone told Klaus that he was not joking and his sudden need to see him was not out of annoyance but priority. “Alright,” Klaus prompted him to continue.
Not a detail was spared from Walter’s explanation of the case but carefully he watched his son’s violet eyes burning with anger and desperation, “Dad, let me help you with this case,” he urged.
Walter shook his head, “You are already helping by staying by her side and keeping her safe.”
“But—.”
In his attempt to protest, Walter raised his hand, “Klaus. You do understand why I have told you this information, don’t you?”
He sighed, “…Yes. To keep my temper in check because of the fragile nature of the case.”
“Exactly,” Walter nodded, “Elias is doing the lesser work of researching the life of Alexia May which allows me to use all my resources to find whoever is behind the murders of these investigators and the members of the royal family. My top priority is to eliminate the target on her back by arresting whoever is eliminating their rivals for the crown.”
He agreed with his father’s decision but wasn’t fond of this entire situation, “I agree with your decision as the best course of action to protect her,” Klaus nodded but his eyes narrowed with indignation he conveyed across to his face, “However...,” he warned, “I am not going to care about international politics if harm comes to her before you find the person responsible for these threats. As for King Harold, he should look elsewhere for an heir since I am not willing to give her up. Call it selfish, but she means more to me than my own life.”
“I understand how you feel Klaus,” Walter acknowledged his son’s feelings, “You have made it quite clear how you feel about the girl and I am trying to do everything I can do to ensure she is not picked apart by the vultures in this vicious circle and to prevent the two of you from being torn apart.”
He appreciated his father’s concern but he had a lot of information to process. Averting his gaze, the flicker of the flames suddenly became interesting as he made sense of the information his father had revealed to him. “Klaus,” Walter could see his anxiety through his eyes too, “I will do everything I can to stop this.”
“…She can’t be forced to take the crown, can she?”
“No, I will make sure her voice is heard,” Walter guaranteed, “Consider myself her representative in this situation. After coming to know her over these couple weeks, I have grown a likeness to her myself and I accept her as the woman you have chosen to spend the rest of your life with.”
Klaus had not expected his father to quickly accept their relationship but was grateful his father had come to accept their relationship nonetheless, “Thank you.” Standing to his feet, Klaus had plenty of information to process and right now wanted to return to Asana, “I must return to my chambers now.”
His bare feet quietly padded along the carpet of Walter’s office but his father did not challenge his right to leave. Walter watched him leave until he closed the door behind his back to let out a sigh. He hoped Klaus would keep his emotions in check through this case.
The meeting with his father had carried on longer than he had anticipated. Glancing up at an antique and stylish clock decorating the wall of the hallway he strolled down, the hands pointed at quarter to two in the morning. With what he knew now, Klaus doubted he would get any sleep.
Quietly, he pushed open his chamber doors and slipped inside, gently closing the door behind him to not wake Asana. From across the room, he stared at her sleeping through the morning. From their earlier passion filled love making, she remained naked underneath the blankets. He restocked the fire since he would be awake for a little while longer and slipped in beside her and gazed at her beauty while she softly snored through her sleep.
Slipping in between the sheets beside her, he tossed his body onto his side, gazing at her adorable sleeping face with his violet eyes captivated by her beauty, “You really are beautiful,” he whispered, gently moving her fringe across her flawless skin to keep it from her eyes. Silently, he made a vow in his heart and soul that not a person would bring harm to her or force her into anything without her consent, “I will always protect, just as I always have,” he sealed that promise with a gentle kiss on her lips, “I love you.”
“…Klaus?”
“Hush, go back to sleep,” he whispered, and cuddled her close to him.
“…Are you only getting back from your father’s office?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry about that,” he kissed the top of her forehead, “Get some rest.”
Snuggling into his warm body, she found her way back to sleep, “…I love you too Klaus,” she had heard his confession of love and returned the confession too.
“I know,” he smiled.
Though, his mind and heart raced with anxiety regarding their future together but he had to trust his father and his brother. Each time he looked down at her sleeping face, he couldn’t fathom the reason why anyone would want to harm her and grew tired of her being innocently dragged into danger. His father requested him think and react rationally, but how could he do that when the life of the woman he loves and their future together is threatened by the Kingdom of Rhymer.
He had an idea.
Without the knowledge of her own life being in danger, Asana had awakened around eight in the morning but the house remained quiet with only a few servants tending to their tasks. The marble hallways were shrouded in silence and the servant staff made little noise at the risk of waking up the tired residents.
Too scared to wander around the palace-like home, she turned right to go towards the home’s large library. Klaus had shown her to the room on a tour of the home and his parents had invited her to any books that took her interest to read at any time. On her way, the library door opened wide before she could put her fingers to the handle.
Remerging from the library was a head of recognisable locks, “Oh, Elias! Good morning,” she had come under the assumption everyone was still asleep, “Sleep well?”
“Good morning, Asana,” Elias stepped to the house to allow her entry into the library, “I did. You?”
“Like a log,” she smiled, remembering what had happened the night before in the comfort of Klaus’ arms, “It was a very warm night.”
He sighed, “I take it you snuck into my brother’s chambers again?”
“Hey, you make it sound like I done something rude,” she frowned at him.
Though, his perceptive eyes had caught the sight of his brother’s mark on the side of her exposed neck in the open neckline of her cotton robes. His cheeks turned a shade of pink, “Anyone could make that correct guess,” he said.
“Huh?” she didn’t understand.
“Your neck,” Elias pointed, “…T-there’s a mark.”
“What?!”
In the decorative hall, a mirror hung on the wall and she checked out the sizeable bruise gracing the side of her neck in a very visible spot. In fact, she had two small marks on the other side of her neck too. “Ah, Klaus!” she sighed and felt embarrassed that Elias had seen them.
“You should be thankful my parents like you,” Elias stated.
She couldn’t face him, not when the evidence of her night spent with Klaus was marked on her neck. Suddenly, she had no interest to read a book but rather she wanted to find a way to cover up these marks before she even saw his parents. “Um, I have to go,” she quickly turned around back to Klaus’ chambers.
Opening his closet, the maids had stored her clean clothes in with Klaus’. Fishing a knitted turtle neck tunic from her collection of clothes, she made her way across the room to the bathroom. Though, before she could even make the door, a pair of strong arms came around her waist and picked her up, “Klaus!” she giggled.
“Who said you could leave the bed?”
He twirled her body around and playfully threw her back onto the bed, “I didn’t want to wake you,” she giggled and turned her body to have her back to the bed, “You came to back to bed late.”
Her vision was filled by the closeness of Klaus’ face, “Where did you go before?”
“I went to the library but I ran into Elias,” she said, remembering why she had returned, “Because a certain someone left marks across my neck last night and I didn’t notice how visible they were until Elias pointed it out.”
“You are mine, everyone should know you belong to me.”
“My very heart and soul belong to you, Klaus, and no one can take you away from me,” she smiled, “Now, let me up so I can get dressed.”
Though, Klaus couldn’t let her go, not yet, her words reminding him that he needed to talk to her. Instead of ruining this good moment, he had a more relaxing way of speaking to her without stressing her out, “Listen, I need to talk to you about something important, something private. Why don’t we have a shower together?”
Her cheeks became flushed.
“Why are you blushing?”
“…Well, because you suggested we have a shower together.”
“So,” Klaus loved this adorable side to her, “I saw everything last night. What difference does this make?”
He was right, as usual. Last night, she was exposed across the sofa and it didn’t bother her that the flames exposed her naked flesh to Klaus. “…But…we were caught in the moment and made love.”
“You don’t want to then?”
She didn’t say she didn’t want to, “I never said I didn’t want to,” she said.
“Come on, Bunnyhead,” he teased, “We have showered together before.”
The more he convinced her to have a warm shower with him, the more it appealed to her. She thought a warm shower to begin the day would be an excellent way to wake her up along with a delicious breakfast to follow, “Alright.”
Moving off her body, he lead her by the hand into the bathroom and ran the warm shower first before they stripped down to their naked skins and stepped into the warm sprinkling water.
Steam fogged the glass barrier encasing the water streaming around them. Smearing scented body wash onto his hand, he began to massage the soap to exfoliate her creamy skin and Asana was curious about what he wanted to talk about, “What was it that you wanted to speak to me about?” she prompted the conversation to begin.
He continued to wash her back as he began to speak, “If you plan to go anywhere, even in the house, I want you to take myself, one of my brothers or my father with you,” he calmly spoke but his tone was a warning to her.
His warning prompted her to turn around, “Why? Has something happened?”
“My father has received the results from the DNA test he had done to determine if you are a distant relative of the Princess, and it turns out Alexia May and Princess Alexandria are positively the same person,” he informed, “This case he is doing is much more dangerous than he had told us before. But, I understand the fewer people who know he’s doing this case, the less people will come to harm.”
“Harm?” his words surprised her, “Klaus, am I in danger?”
Klaus knew he was crossing a line by telling her the truth but he didn’t want her facing danger without knowing the truth, “The bloodline of Rhymer’s royal family is quite diminished and the candidates to claim the crown are disappearing, my father believes through the foul play of a rival who wants to secure the crown without drawing attention to themselves. This is the primary reason why King Harold wanted to find Princess Alexandria, so he could find direct relatives who are alive.”
She realised he was talking about her, “Me!” her finger pointed to herself.
He confirmed her assumptions with a nod. The warm shower suddenly felt cold as she tried to process this information, her eyes widening and her mind and heart beginning to send panicked anxiety through her body, “…But…I don’t want to be a royal! No one ever asked me if I wanted this!”
“Calm down, calm down,” Klaus wrapped his arms around her to relax her mind.
“How can I?” She panicked, “Someone wants me dead over a job I don’t even want.”
“Hey, no one is going to kill you!” he strongly stated and held her close to him, “My father and Julius are putting all their resources into finding the person responsible. He doesn’t believe this person yet knows about you but he’s not taking any chances by gambling with your life, so he wants me to protect you always, until the threat has been dealt with. Well, I always protect you but I am not going to lose you, not even to a royal family.”
“Klaus…”
“I love you, Asana, and I want us to grow old together like we’ve promised each other.”
“I want that too but what if I can’t say no?”
“Of course, you can,” Klaus stroked his finger gently across her cheek and kissed her wet lips, “I have a plan and Dad is working on his own. Do whatever I ask of you and you will be safe.”
“Okay, what do you want me to do?”
Klaus peered deeply into her eyes and smiled, “Marry me?”
She fell silent in her shock.
“If we marry, we can stay together,” Klaus said.
“…Are you serious?”
“I’m very serious,” Klaus answered.
It was not how she imagined being asked to marry him. “But—.” She pictured him getting down on one knee surrounded by a romantic scene and asking her to become his wife and then they would plan a beautiful wedding and marry, their love shared and witnessed by those close to them.
Klaus took her hand into his own and kissed the back of them, “Once this is over, we can divorce or have a proper wedding. Whatever we choose, but if we marry now they will have terrible trouble trying to tear us apart. Consider it, insurance.”
“…It seems so sudden, though, what will your father say?”
“I don’t care what they say,” Klaus said, his lips inches from hers, “I love you and I am not about to risk losing you. Besides, consider it practice for when you really do become my wife.”
His lips sealed hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue penetrating beyond her pink and wet lips. It sounded dramatic but it would send a strong message to King Harold about her reluctance to take on the responsibilities of the crown, a job she would have never imagine herself in. She also hoped her faux marriage would expand the time limit for Walter and Julius.
“…Okay,” she agreed, “I will marry you Klaus. But this is the second time you have faked proposed to me, so the next one better be the real one,” she warned.
He chuckled at her humorous warning and kissed her again, “After breakfast we’ll go into the city and organise everything,” he said, kissing her lips again.
“Wait, we are getting married today?”
“The Princess’ Ball is in a week and that’s where King Harold will meet with you,” Klaus said, “Our marriage needs to look legit and we can make it work since we are already in love and plan to marry someday.”
“…This sounds insane,” she laughed, “But, whatever it takes to secure what we have.”
“When our real wedding comes, it will be a proper wedding with our family and friends,” he sealed that promise with another kiss, “Now, don’t mention anything I have told you to my father. He didn’t want me to tell you since this case is incredibly fragile.”
She trusted his judgment and returned a sweet kiss on his lips, “I trust you,” she whispered and smiled up at him. “Now, turn around and let me wash you,” she changed the pace of the conversation and turned him around to wash his broad and masculine back.
“It’s not often I get to see this side of you,” she giggled and groped his buttocks.
“Don’t push it,” a smile broke out across his lips.
“It’s a cute butt.”
“Did you just call my butt cute?”
Her giggling echoed through the bathroom, “So what if I did? It’s a cute bum.”
“That’s it,” he turned around and turned off the shower.
She giggled as his eyes pinned her down, “Klaus…play nice,” she tried to back away from him.
“I was going to leave consummation for later but not now,” he pushed her up against the wall of the shower and pinned her hands above her head, clashing his lips against hers.
He then turned her around, “Your butt is the cutest,” he smirked.
Soon enough she stopped giggling and her moans began echoing through the room.
Dressing warmly for the day ahead, they held hands on their way down to breakfast with the engagement ring Klaus had given to her to trick his parents back on her finger. The smell of chocolate waffles and hot coffee drifted through the kitchen of the house. With only Mary, Elaine and Elias.
“Good morning Klaus and Ms Way,” Mary greeted them both with a warm smile, “Forgive Walter and Julius’ absence they went to the Ministry early for important work.”
“Brother, will you please close the book at the table?” Elaine politely asked Elias.
“Sorry,” Elias apologised.
“Elias, just because you are an adult now does not mean you can disobey the ‘no books at the table’ rule,” his mother scolded, “Put it away and eat your breakfast.”
“I’m not a little boy Mom.”
“Then you should know better,” she argued.
Elias grumbled and closed the book with an audible slam.
Klaus and Asana took two vacant seats that were next to each other at the breakfast table. A maid setting two plates of waffles in front of them followed by a fresh cup of tea. Elaine smiled across the table, “You know Asana, you have such a pretty face,” she commented.
“Um…thank you,” she cut an edge of her waffle and was ready to bring it to her mouth.
“It will be your second ball in a matter of weeks, are you excited?”
“…Well, hopefully I won’t be a nervous wreck like last time.”
During the Christmas holidays, Klaus’ family attended the King’s Christmas Ball and used the function to invite the wealthy families of his kingdom to donate money to support those in need during the festive months. Of course, the event was a grand party with artistic plates of canapés and shining colours of elegant gowns sparkling under the crystal chandeliers of the ancient and opulent ballroom.
“I was a stuttering mess to every person who spoke to me,” she giggled.
Elaine laughed, “Yes, I remember dancing with Julius near the two of you and you tripped on the train of your dress.”
“Do not think too much about it, dear,” Mary laughed, remembering her first ball when she was a little girl.
“My first ball, I was eight years old. My parents were quite the philanthropists, and had hosted a gala auction to raise money for research into motor neurone disease, a disease which unfortunately claimed the life of my grandmother a year before that we held that fundraiser. I remember they had these enormous ice sculptures for decoration and my sister and I thought it would be a good time to play. Our mother warned us not to run around the ball room, but we were kids and refused to listen, until my sister pushed me and one of the ice sculptures was knocked over.”
Mary laughed at the fondness of the memory, “Of course, I can laugh about it now but at the time no one thought it was funny. I never forget the look on my father’s face and the embarrassment on my mother’s. After that, my sister and I were grounded for quite some time but we were well-behaved at the next ball,” she covered her hand over Asana’s, giving her a gentle smile, “There is no need to feel nervous at these events.”
“While that’s true, I have a feeling the Princess’ Ball is going to be a slightly different affair.”
“Well, if this is to celebrate the life of an ancestor, you should be dressed up to the nines,” Elaine insisted, her mind ticking away.
Klaus knew his sister well enough to see the bright smile she wore was hiding the enjoyment of dressing up his girlfriend, “Your dolls must have been terrified of you when you were little,” he jabbed.
“They looked beautiful!” Elaine smiled but quickly ignored him, “I propose we go shopping for dresses. I know the ball is a week away but we need to find the perfect dress for a Princess.”
“But…I’m not a princess,” Asana said, and taking a bite of her chocolate covered waffles into her mouth, “Wouldn’t it be rude to out-dress the royal family?”
“I don’t believe it’s rude to look beautiful,” Mary commented and looked Asana up and down, “Besides, you have such a beautiful face. Don’t hide it.”
“Not to mention, your complexion really goes with any colour dress,” Elaine added.
Flashbacks to the information Klaus had revealed to her began to flood through her mind. “…Are we going to the Ball?” she turned around to him, thinking if her life was in danger a ball was the last place she should be attending.
“It would be a bad sign if we didn’t go,” he answered, “I will come with you and Elaine to go shopping.”
“What?!” without any knowledge of Asana’s predicament, Elaine screeched with displeasure at his invitation, “But…I plan to dress her up like a Princess to knock the breath out of you.”
He chuckled, “My dear sister, she’s never looked like a Princess to me.”
“Klaus! That’s mea—.”
Before she could protest Klaus cut her off, “Let me finish,” he calmly begged her, “She has always and forever will be my Queen. So, if you plan to dress her up, make sure she looks like a Queen.”
“Klaus…,” embarrassment spread across her cheeks but she failed to keep her happiness contained, “…Actually, today for dress shopping is not good. I will be spending the day with Klaus. We are going on a date.”
“Oh really?” Elaine, having a similar personality to Amelia, smirked and wanted juicy details like a nosy big sister, “I sure hope my brother will be a proper gentleman but I must admit it is so strange to see him being friendly with a woman.”
Mary giggled, “Very rare. Oh, there are plenty of stories to tell you about girls having crushes on my Klaus only to be heartbroken—.”
“Let me guess, he’s beautiful too look at but they felt intimidated once he opened his mouth?” she smiled up at him, “Sorry.”
“I didn’t scare you away.”
“Would you want to? You know you love me,” she leaned over and naturally planted a sweet kiss on his cheek, “I love you too.”
It was such a natural act but it stunned Klaus since she had boldly kissed him in front of his family, his cheeks turning a shade of red. Elias struggled to contain his amusement but Mary and Elaine were averting their faces to laugh at him. “Oh, Klaus. She sure has you hooked,” Elaine laughed.
“My, it has been a long time since I have since you blush like this,” his mother laughed at him too, imprinting the sight into her memory.
Klaus cut a glare across to Asana, conveying a message to never to that again without warning, “Hurry up and finish your breakfast. We have places to be and no time to waste by sitting here,” he grumpily prompted her to continue eating her food.
“So, where is my son taking you on this date?”
“Ice skating down at the rink,” of course, she was lying.
Klaus added, “She’s never been ice skating so this is either going to be a great day.”
“Oh, please don’t break your ankle before the Ball,” Mary stressed.
“I’ll try not to,” like a pair of actors, Klaus and Asana’s true plan had not been detected.
However, it would be a good enough of a cover to go to the courthouse and legally marry. It was a secret but because Klaus felt his father would attempt to stop him from taking a radical step. However, it was something else entirely to Klaus, it was security to protect Asana from being dragged into a situation she had no control over.
“Well, have fun and look after her,” she warned him with a warm motherly tone.
“You don’t need to tell me to take care of my girlfriend, Mother.”
“Tomorrow, we will find you the perfect dress,” Elaine insisted.
“Of course!” Asana assured her it was a date set and polished off the final piece of her breakfast, clearing the plate to expose the golden edges of its expensive design, “Thank you for the delicious breakfast.”
Of course, Klaus had already finished and had been waiting on Asana to finish her meal. “Shall we?” he reached out his hand for hers and she happily took hold of it.
“Yes, let’s go.”
For a marriage they had planned so suddenly, even if it was fake to them was real in the eyes of the law, she felt excited. Unsure if the cause was the phony marriage to Klaus or the statement they were making. Klaus helped Asana into her coat and left the house.
“Remember, do not wander off alone,” he reminded her, “Stay close to my side.”
Tying the buttons down her chest and fixing the sash belt around her waist, she turned around to him, “The safest place is always by your side, Klaus,” she flipped her hair out from behind the coat giving him a sweet smile, “We are doing the right thing, aren’t we?”
“I believe so,” Klaus kissed the back of her hand, “I know it’s sudden but this gives us a bit of security and sends a strong message to the King. Unless, being a member of the royal family is something you want to do? Whatever you do, I want it to be on your decision.”
She already knew the answer, “…I want to grow old with you. Wherever we are or whatever we are doing, I want to be with you. My future, no, our future, is what we build it to be, as one,” she took his hand, “Marry me?”
“I already was going to,” he kissed her lips and pulled away again, “Let’s go.”
“Should we get rings?”
They stepped outside and opted to walk to the city with the snow to thick and slippery to drive on. “Watch your step,” he guided her down the slippery marble steps of the front door, “There’s a jewellery store in the centre of the city, shall we go there?”
“For fake wedding rings?”
“Why not?”
“Because, it would make sense if they were our real wedding rings.”
“We have to make it look real.”
“Okay, but let’s buy the cheap ones not the expensive ones.”
Several minutes of silence fell between them since what they were doing felt crazy but it was a necessary step in their game to own a little bit of control through this unbelievable situation. “This whole thing feels crazy,” she couldn’t help but speak her truest thoughts, “The more I think about it though, the more I know we are doing the right thing. But, doesn’t this say that we don’t trust your Dad?”
“Not necessarily,” Klaus shook his head, “My father is a smart man but right now his priority is focused on capturing a potential killer using magic by means of eliminating rivals and threats to their right to power. His attention is not focused on King Harold asking you to take the crown and leave everything behind. I know it seems dramatic, but I feel this is necessary.”
“You mean, if I take the crown he can’t force me to unmarry you and we can stay together?” Asana guessed, “But, I have no intentions of taking the crown and would rather we try and find a person who can?”
“Like who? The Rhymer line is thin.”
“Right, it’s thin, so there has to be someone who is more suitable to claim the throne,” she peered up at him, “If I refuse and the crown goes to someone less deserving of the crown, I would feel terrible and it could create a diplomatic problem for Gedonelune. It’s something we can do to prevent a political disaster. And, if there is no one left, perhaps this will be a historic point in history. Royal bloodlines change all the time.”
“Right, so are you ready for this?”
“So ready,” she squeezed his hand intertwined with hers.
In a last-minute decision, they had changed their minds and had decided to elope at the church rather than going to the courthouse to sign their marriage certificate. The minister witnessed their marriage and wished their marriage to be long. Their simple golden rings shined underneath the soft glow of the sun as it began creeping through the cracks of the snow clouds above.
“Wow,” was the only thing she could say.
“In a weird way, this feels…,” he couldn’t quite figure out the right word to say.
“Right?” Asana finished off his sentence.
“Yeah. It feels right.”
Several minutes of silence ensued between them as they gazed at their rings and each other’s rings. “So, how does it feel to be Mrs Klaus Goldstein?”
Sitting on a park bench across from a fancy hotel, overlooking the frozen city river, hearing her new and legal name sent a shiver down her spine. However, it wasn’t caused by the cold or the type of shiver to fear but it was a pleasurable shiver. Hearing it made her feel happy and bubbly inside. “Say it again,” she requested, turning her head to look at him.
“Mrs Klaus Goldstein?”
“Yes, but use my name.”
He smiled and chuckled, “Mrs Asana Goldstein.”
“I quite like hearing my name like that,” her smile widened as far as it could go.
“I like it too, suits you,” his smiled mirrored hers but his only widened at the way her beauty shined through her eyes and pink lips as she smiled down at the ring around her finger.
“I know it is not real but I’m happy you would go this far just to protect our future.”
“You think this isn’t real?” Klaus teased, “I have a certificate here that says it is.”
She giggled, “Well, it is real legally but when we are truly ready to get married we will have a proper wedding to share with our family and friends.”
Of course, he’d give her the wedding she deserved. Bringing her ringed hand to his lips, he kissed the spot where the ring sat across her finger, “I promise, you will have the wedding you deserve, Asana. Like I said before we came here, it will be very soon.”
“Nothing would make me happier than to be your wife.”
“You already are,” this time his lips planted a sweet kiss upon her smiling lips.
The world around them became a blur as their lips remained engaged in their sweet kiss for several minutes. Pulling away at the same time, they gently touched their foreheads together right as the snow began to fall over the city once again. “So,” his warm breath brushed her lips, “What shall we do now, my wife?”
From the corner of his violent eyes, he spotted the enticing entrance of the rich and luxurious inner-city hotel behind them and across from the esplanade built beside the frozen river. Her eyes followed his line of sight to the red quarter-round awning below the large golden signage on top of the building.
“Chateau Royale,” she read the name of the building, feeling both embarrassed and happy of the feelings stirring inside of her, “So long as we order room service afterwards.”
He laughed, “Always thinking about food,” he pushed himself off the bench.
Holding out his hands, he helped her to her feet and took hold of her hand. Being the middle of the holidays, Klaus and Asana were lucky to grab the last key to a hotel room – a penthouse suite as large as Klaus’ chambers at the Goldstein residence. Within those silk sheets, their fake marriage had become very real.
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brajeshupadhyay · 4 years
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Gambling on College Football Almost Fixed My Dysfunctional Family
My first mistake was feeling sorry for him.
The first season my brother and I bet on college football against each other, I beat him so badly I often bragged I could have lost every single game we gambled on for the rest of the decade and still finished in the money.
Each week, we would agree to disagree on five games across the N.C.A.A. schedule. Each win was worth a dollar. Whoever won the most games of the five we selected cashed an additional five bucks. Best out of five, winner takes all for a maximum potential profit of $10 for the weekend.
He couldn’t have owed me more than $100 — we weren’t kids anymore, making outrageous wagers on games of blackjack at the kitchen table neither of us could have paid off in three lifetimes — but I still didn’t have the heart to make him pay up.
The next year, after torching him a second season in a row, I gave him a book as a joke — “Handicapping College Football for Beginners,” which he told me he relegated to the washroom magazine basket.
I didn’t realize it then, but he was setting me up.
Later he admitted to reading it every chance he got. Studying. Formulas, strategies, all of it. By season three, he cleaned my clock. Our father soon inserted himself into the competition, which, over the past almost 20 years, came to represent our relationship: We went from being a dysfunctional trio of man-children who didn’t have the language to express our feelings to discovering that our mutual love of competition and one-upmanship gave us the language we needed to reconnect.
And then came the coronavirus.
As of June, in response to concerns over the coronavirus, the N.C.A.A. Division I Football Oversight Committee announced their approval of a plan that would allow teams to transition from voluntary workouts to mandatory meetings and preseason camps — just like any other year. But by the end of July, five Division I conferences had canceled their seasons outright. Others, in a last-ditch effort to play something in 2020, are leaning toward playing “conference only” or “plus one” schedules to minimize travel and mitigate risk. The closer we got to August, the more it seemed that Dr. Anthony Fauci, who has been clear in his position from the outset, may have been right after all: “Football may not happen this year.”
My little brother and I remain hopeful that won’t be the case. Five years apart, we were never especially close. Growing up, I’d put him through the wringer.
When I was 8, and he was 3, I nearly took his eye out with a dead tree branch. He still has a scar above his brow. In high school, my friends and I would wrestle him to the ground, strip him down to his Fruit of the Looms, force him onto the front lawn, and make him run around the block in his skivvies before we let him back in the house. He still delights in telling that story to showcase what kind of brother I was, but there are plenty of other examples. I’ve made Baby Bro steal beer from a convenience store ice cooler, thrown him in the trunk of a friend’s car and done doughnuts in a snowy church parking lot, and run him over with a golf cart.
As adults, even when we both became dads, we weren’t doing much better, and I felt guilty. College football seemed like a good way to connect. But I had no idea what I was in for. It was payback time, and every win he tallied was sweet revenge.
“Hey. Who’s winning this week?” he would call any Saturday he was ahead, pretending not to know.
“Really,” I’d say. “You know good and well who’s winning.”
As much as I hated losing, I did my best to be happy for him.
The kid was due.
When he won in Season Four, evening the series at 2-2, I wasn’t bothered (much), and I wasn’t all that surprised either. After all, we’d both been raised in the same ultracompetitive, winner-takes-all environment.
Our dad never let us win at anything when we were kids. Not golf, not Go Fish. I tell myself now, he only wanted his boys to succeed — his desire to win was that great — but to say that my dad was an enthusiastic spectator was putting it mildly.
Looking back, I imagine in my dad’s mind he was only teaching us to be tough, to never quit or back down — it was the 1970s and ’80s when a spanking was considered a valuable life lesson. So, it made sense after watching our competition from the sidelines for a couple of years the old man wanted in.
“You donkeys worried I’ll beat you too badly?” my dad goaded my brother one summer afternoon as he casually flipped through the pages of his Street & Smith’s “College Football Annual.”
I knew this was going to be a problem.
The man loved sports almost as much as he loved being right, which was a lot. Not only did we have to mastermind a way to manage a three-person, round robin format, but also keep our heads as my father continued what he’d done our entire childhood: reveling in every moment he won.
After every victory he took great pains to remind us, it would be a long time before we beat him at anything.
We were all supposed to be grown-ups, but most of the time we acted like 6-year-olds upset over a game of Chutes and Ladders that didn’t go our way.
The Coronavirus Outbreak ›
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Updated July 27, 2020
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It could be a good idea, because mortgage rates have never been lower. Refinancing requests have pushed mortgage applications to some of the highest levels since 2008, so be prepared to get in line. But defaults are also up, so if you’re thinking about buying a home, be aware that some lenders have tightened their standards.
What is school going to look like in September?
It is unlikely that many schools will return to a normal schedule this fall, requiring the grind of online learning, makeshift child care and stunted workdays to continue. California’s two largest public school districts — Los Angeles and San Diego — said on July 13, that instruction will be remote-only in the fall, citing concerns that surging coronavirus infections in their areas pose too dire a risk for students and teachers. Together, the two districts enroll some 825,000 students. They are the largest in the country so far to abandon plans for even a partial physical return to classrooms when they reopen in August. For other districts, the solution won’t be an all-or-nothing approach. Many systems, including the nation’s largest, New York City, are devising hybrid plans that involve spending some days in classrooms and other days online. There’s no national policy on this yet, so check with your municipal school system regularly to see what is happening in your community.
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The coronavirus can stay aloft for hours in tiny droplets in stagnant air, infecting people as they inhale, mounting scientific evidence suggests. This risk is highest in crowded indoor spaces with poor ventilation, and may help explain super-spreading events reported in meatpacking plants, churches and restaurants. It’s unclear how often the virus is spread via these tiny droplets, or aerosols, compared with larger droplets that are expelled when a sick person coughs or sneezes, or transmitted through contact with contaminated surfaces, said Linsey Marr, an aerosol expert at Virginia Tech. Aerosols are released even when a person without symptoms exhales, talks or sings, according to Dr. Marr and more than 200 other experts, who have outlined the evidence in an open letter to the World Health Organization.
What are the symptoms of coronavirus?
Does asymptomatic transmission of Covid-19 happen?
So far, the evidence seems to show it does. A widely cited paper published in April suggests that people are most infectious about two days before the onset of coronavirus symptoms and estimated that 44 percent of new infections were a result of transmission from people who were not yet showing symptoms. Recently, a top expert at the World Health Organization stated that transmission of the coronavirus by people who did not have symptoms was “very rare,” but she later walked back that statement.
We showed we cared by needling each other unmercifully anytime one of us wound up on the wrong end of the point spread.
Like the year my dad gave my brother and me second and third place medals to make sure we didn’t forget who had come out on top that season.
Or when visiting my parents once, my father introduced me to friends of his and my mother’s as “the one who finished in last place” the year before.
I still don’t know half of what I should about my brother, or agree with all the things he believes in. But I’m learning. That ratio skews much higher when it comes to my dad. I’ve realized my brother, dad and I aren’t all that different. We all want to be heard, each of us wants to be seen, and above all, each of us wants to win. After almost 20 years of this, our bonds are stronger than ever.
As disappointing as the prospect may be, whether college football happens this year or not, at least now I have a reason to call.
The bonds we’ve worked so hard to build — even if they’ve come from trash talking each other over our latest win-loss records — are in danger of being lost. If Covid takes that away from us, we’ll just have to find something else to fight, I mean, connect over.
Mike Evans is a writer and television producer living in Los Angeles. He is currently at work on a memoir.
The post Gambling on College Football Almost Fixed My Dysfunctional Family appeared first on Shri Times News.
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the-ship-maker-2 · 4 years
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The Shadow Queen Book 1/Chapter 1
Rated: M for mature. If you're sensitive don't read this.
Warnings: Mentions of abuse and bullying and light nudity. If you're sensitive don't read this.
Summary: It's been 10 years and Talura's life is still a living hell. A bully from school, abuse from her step dad. Yet despite all of her hardships she still has and uses her gifts of The Sight and Intuition and has a beacon of hope. Her best and only friend Azriel, the demon princess of all Hell. What happens when Azriel gives her the shocking news and the one good thing she has is being taken away from her. Everything feels like the end for the both of them. When little do they know that this is only the beginning...
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Chapter 1/ 10 years later
Talura Anderson, now fifteen years of age, laid awake in her bed staring up at the ceiling. Her hair was in a now messy ponytail from all of the tossing and turning, threatening to come out of its hair tie. She winced at the ache of her bruises and cuts with each toss and turn. The covers were pulled up to her chin. She looked over at her alarm clock that was on top of her dresser that was on the right side of her bed. She squinted to make out the little red numbers.
2:00 am. It read.
She sighed and banged her head on her pillow.
"Goddamn insomnia", she grimaced in thought.
She looked to her left where her closet was. She never used it as she only hung up a few nice shirts and dresses for formal or special occasions but she never used them often. She looked in the corner where her bedroom door was. It had her backpack full of unfinished school work and homework that she honestly didn't care to make the time for. Along with her three main textbooks that were stacked up clumsily on top of each other. With her shoes neatly put together. Yet another long day of long lectures from teachers who clearly don't give two shits about their students. They just wanted the paycheck and that's it. Not to mention constant bullying and torture from one person in particular.
She let out a quiet, bitter laugh to herself.
"That's Rosewood Prep for you. Where the teachers are just as lazy and corrupted as the students are", she said in thought.
The room itself was quite plain and barren when you looked at as a whole. There was too much dead space as designers would call it. It's not like she had the freedom to decorate her room however she wanted. As freedom of expression was not allowed in her household.
She sighed again and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Fuck. On top of surviving tomorrow at school. I have to deal with my step dad. God knows what I'll get beat for tomorrow"
She winced as she struggled to lift her arms up to stretch the rest of her body.
That's how life has always been for Talura. A constant fight for survival. Fighting at school to stand her ground and because she can see through other people's bullshit and they get upset when she doesn't go along with it. They want her to be easy prey. Well she is prey, she's come to accept that that's her position in life, but she's not the easy type. Meaning she's not going down without a fight.
Fighting at home to protect her mother and little brother and refusing to break who she is as a person. Her thought process was that she could be the object of her step dad's fury then he'll leave her mother and brother alone. Her step dad beats her constantly, always using her as a scapegoat. He knows that she is different. She can now see him as the bully that he is. She is the only one that dares questions his power and decisions. He realizes that if he can't control her with anything else. Then he'll control her by force and planting the seeds of doubt in her mind. Beating her every time she did something wrong or if he was just angry, telling her that she's a bad person and a bad influence. She wasn't wanted and wasn't welcomed at home. No one would love her or would want to be her friend. She is a bad person for what she believed in and that her intuition is wrong and flawed.
Despite becoming gradually broken over the years due to school and home environments she never once broke the core of herself. That solid foundation of The Sight and Intuition was always there. Despite there once being a time where she believed everything that her step dad said about her and not really being sure of anything, the gift of Intuition has always kept her on the right track making the best decisions that she deemed right for others and herself in whatever circumstances that she was given. As long as she was able to protect her mom and her little brother and lived to see another day to see Azriel that's all she cared about.
Azriel.
That was a name that brought a sense of peace to Talura's chaotic and broken mind. She closed her eyes and breathed in relief as a dreamy smile slowly appeared on her face for a moment.
Azriel was her best friend and true family for six years now and counting. She told her just about everything and vice versa. Of course they had their own secrets but they knew each other enough to respect each other's boundaries that were already established from trial and error and they'll tell each other when they're ready.
Did I forget to mention that she is the demon born princess of all of Hell, next in line for the throne?
When they first met each other it was an instant click connection followed by an argument and ended with the promise of seeing each other again the next night. Nights were their established time. As Talura couldn't skip school that would surely get her killed and any other time she was always grounded and under the watchful eyes of her step dad. So she really couldn't do anything until everyone was asleep. Even at the sacrifice of her own sleep when she could get some. Same for Azriel in Hell. As a princess and one of the most powerful demons so she says, she was always heavily guarded for her own protection and the protection of others. It was easy for both of them to sneak out without being in trouble and they enjoyed their few hours of freedom together. Sometimes it was comfortable quiet nights where they would sit in silence and have the freedom of being lost in their own thoughts. Or some nights they would talk about everything and anything from stupidly funny ideas to their hopes, dreams and fears, to what's bothering them or just whatever came to their minds. Or sometimes it was just one of those nights where one of them needed comfort and someone else that they trusted to listen.
They have been through a lot of things together. When she was nine and Azriel was ten (she was only a year older than her) that's when they first met. And a few months after that they nursed a family of coyotes back to health. The runt of the pack grew up and is still grateful to them not to eat them. At eleven and Azriel was twelve, Azriel thought that if Talura had the gift of The Sight then she might have other powers that haven't been unlocked yet. It took Talura forever to agree to perform basic witchcraft due to her own personal bad experiences. But with the reassurance and the guidance and protection of Azriel. She agreed to do it. Turns out she can levitate small objects although not always on command. Talura can't shapeshift like the other demons can because she tried that but ended up breaking her arm. The year Talura turned twelve and Azriel thirteen was a bad year. It was Azriel's mother died. Talura has never seen her look so broken. Normally she was the broken one not the other way around. Azriel was the healer and protector. She healed Talura's bruises and cuts and other wounds and protected her for those two hours. Talura held, comforted, listened and cried with her. She stayed out all night and got an ass whooping from her step dad. But she fought through the pain for Azriel's sake. Azriel didn't show up for the rest of the year after that night. But Talura had other things to worry about that year. By the time they were thirteen and fourteen it was a rocky year. Both struggled to regain the closeness they once had. Azriel was more high strung and elusive and scattered. Normally she was very open and honest (for a demon). Talura became more of the broken quiet, and she became more fearful and skittish. She didn't trust Azriel like she once did. For no real reason. It was hard but they still stuck together and through lots of arguments and threatened to cut off the friendship and gradually opened back up to each other again and everything was on a smoothening path once again. When they were fourteen and fifteen Talura wanted to get to the bottom of why she had these powers. So Azriel took a forbidden risk and brought up books from Hell. Anything and everything on The Sight. In the end she learned about the geography of Hell and the basics of each realms culture and learned about the Earthen Witches. But she gained very little on The Sight. Which brings us to, present day when they are now fifteen and sixteen. Their sister-like bond, stronger than ever.
Speaking of Azriel. It's been three months since her last visit. Her visits have always been sporadic since they were thirteen and fourteen on. It took Talura a while to accept the fact they can never go back to constant visitations so she learned to take what she could get and was grateful for it.
Talura was on the verge of sleep finally when she heard the loud crack of her window opening and she felt the gusting wind through the now open window. Thank god her parents were heavy sleepers or otherwise she would be in trouble. Her wide eyes shot open as she bolted up straight. She saw that her junk papers of grades work were strewn all over the floor from her dresser. She looked around her room for the intruder prepared to fight. Only to discover a shadowy mist on the edge of her bed. Despite not having her glasses she could see that it was vaguely in the form of Azriel. Smiling in relief as she let her guard down Azriel made a 'come here' motion with her shadowy mist and disappeared out her window and disappeared into the woods behind Talura's house.
Grinning, Talura put on her glasses and threw off her covers and swung her feet to the side and stood up. She sucked in her breath and winced at the pain and pressure on her bruised legs and achy feet at the sudden movement. She gritted her teeth as she limped over to put her shoes on and went to her window. She looked out to find the ladder that her step dad used to do construction on the roof relatively close to her window. She just needed to grab it and pull it closer for her to use. She opened her window up all the way. She took a deep breath and braced herself for the pain. She used her upper arm strength to pull herself up on the window sill. She was half in and half out. Holding on to the side of the window frame for support and leaned over to grab the ladder. She opened her mouth for a silent scream as her bruised sides were being stretched. It took a few tries but she got it and pulled it closer to her inch by inch trying not to make too much noise. She got it close enough where it was relatively safe to swing her body out the window and climb down the ladder. She got to the bottom and walked along the dirt path that started at the back door of her house and ended in the woods. And that was exactly where Talura was heading.
She reached their sacred meeting spot. Which was a medium sized dirt circle clearing in the woods. It was well hidden so you definitely had some privacy but not too hidden where you could get lost. It had a couple of fallen tree logs and a small boulder that you could sit on along with a few raspberry bushes that weren't in season yet. If you looked up the treetops gave a great clearing. It made a great place to stargaze on a clear night. Legend has it that this place used to be where the town cult used to go for their rituals and meetings. But that didn't stop them. It was also the place where they met for the very first time.
Azriel was staring out into the woods when Talura arrived.
"Took you long enough Tal", said Azriel playfully annoyed as she slowly turned around.
She gasped in horror at the sight of Talura.
"Mother of Night what happened to you? Who was it this time? Horacio? Michael?"
Talura was a pitiful sight to see. Her wide blue-green eyes had dark circles underneath them. They were a fuchsia color, almost like she got beat up but it was just really from lack of sleep. Talura slept in a white tee shirt and a pair of gray shorts so her bruises and cuts old and new, scarred and relatively fresh revealed themselves. She had bruises,some old as they were yellow and green in healing, some new as they were a deep purple and some black and blue. Her arms and legs and torso were covered in them. There were cuts that ran in different directions all over her arms,legs and torso. Some of them were short, some of them were long, some of them were scarred and some of them were relatively fresh. She received them in various ways. Some of them she received by just living life. She was a clumsy person and accident prone. Others are from self harm. Others are from the various torture she received from her bully. Others she received by the lashings by her step dad with anything that could cut if he didn't feel like beating her with his fists.
Horacio Galloway was the name of her bully and Michael Muller was the name of her step dad.
"Both", Talura replied grimly as she held her arms behind her back.
"Take your shirt off and come here so I can heal you somewhat", sighed Azriel as she made 'come here' motions with both of her hands.
Talura slowly took her shirt off because it hurt so much. She was left in her black sports bra. You could see the outline of her ribcage. You could tell she didn't eat much. She turned so her back was showing and sat down in front of Azriel. Her hands lightly ghosted over Talura's tan skin. A big contrast to Azriel's pale skin.
"I don't like seeing you hurt", said Azriel as she slowly made some of the bruises and cuts go away.
"I know you don't. But I can't quit school and I can't leave until Adam and my mother are in a relatively safe and better place. I'm needed here", said Talura firefly.
"You know I could always…", trailed off Azriel.
"Az, we've been over this. I can't have you kill Horacio because a) I'm going to Hell when I die and I certainly don't want to run into him. Karma will come to him someday. B) I don't like people fighting my own battles for me. I can't have you kill Michael either for Adam's sake. If he dies then that means I'd have to quit school and get a job and pick up the slack and pray to whomever is listening that Adam won't become enough of a problem child without a dad to end up at Rosewood. No way am I going to take that chance! Or my mom would find a new man who is just as equally bad or worse than Michael. Adam is safer with a man that he knows and loves", snapped back Talura.
"At the risk of your own life day after day?!", yelled Azriel
"If that's what it takes! I have no choice! You keep forgetting that I don't have the luxury to be selfish!", yelled back Talura.
They were both quiet breathing hard from the yelling. Azriel was the only one Talura could stand up against equally. And Talura was the only one who ever challenged Azriel in either world which was a nice change from everyone bowing down and catering to her every whim just because she was the princess of Hell. Up here she could just be Azriel, the loyal and faithful friend who needed to be kept in check from time to time. And Talura can learn to grow a backbone with the person she feels safest with and speak her mind.
"You could always come with me", said Azriel more quietly looking down as a sign of an apology.
"I can't. I'm not dead yet. The living don't belong with the dead of any kind. But I always appreciate the offer and I'll take up the opportunity when my time comes", sighed Talura in defeat.
There was a couple of moments of awkward silence between the two before Talura got up and put her shirt back on and faced Azriel.
"Hey Az, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You're just trying to protect me and looking out for my own good", said Talura softly.
Azriel gave a small smile and held her arms out for a hug as a sign of acceptance of her apology. Talura breathed a sigh of relief and ran into her arms holding her tight. She snuggled in closer once she felt Azriel's arms wrapped around her.
"Best friends?"
"Of course"
They let go of each other and sat down on one of the logs.
"Do you remember how we met?", asked Azriel.
"I try not too", giggled Talura as Azriel playfully punched her arm and she blocked the punch.
"I do. It was only six years ago", said Azriel shaking her head playfully annoyed,"you humans have such fickle memories"
"Well if I have such a fickle memory as you say I do then perhaps you should tell me how we met to refresh my memory", she pulled her knees up to her chest now that she wasn't in so much pain anymore.
Azriel chuckled,"Alright here we go…"
About six years ago. It was a cool September evening, Adam was going to be born in another month or so. And little Talura was nine years old. Just transferred over to Rosewood from maplehood creek elementary school since she didn't get along with any of the teachers and students however she was very intelligent. And already she didn't like it. She already had an enemy and he made her life a living hell in school. On top of getting beat by her step dad and still being confused as to why. One night she had enough. She packed up a small bag of clothes and snuck out her window and ran off to the woods. That was the first time she ever ran away from home. Talura couldn't run anymore once she reached the clearing. Her intuition and Sight told her that someone else was here. She slowly stood up straight.
"Please show yourself. I can see you you know", Talura called out.
The shadowy mist solidified and turned into an actual person. A tall, lanky, pale, ginger child with stormy gray eyes who couldn't be no more than a year or two older than Talura.
They stared at each other for a few moments. The ginger's stormy gray eyes meeting Talura's unnaturally wide blue-green eyes. Something inside them clicked the moment that they looked at each other that neither of them could explain.
"How can you see me? Are you dead?", inquired the ginger curiously. She never met a living human before until now.
"Only on the inside", replied Talura as she huffed," and I don't know how I can. I just do, I was born with it I guess"
"You have wide eyes", pointed out the ginger.
Talura huffed defensively,"What about them?"
"I like them, they're unique and a pretty color", said the ginger tilting her head to the side with a soft sweet smile.
Talura softened up a little and her defensiveness was all gone.
"Really? You think so?", she was smiling stupidly and looking at the ground and then she looked up at her,"I never met anyone who said that to me before"
"And never met anyone living who could see me naturally before",said the ginger.
"What's your name?"
"Azriel. What's yours"
"Talura"
Azriel scrunched up her nose at the weird name and Talura laughed.
"I don't like it either. Most people call me Tal, it's shorter", laughed Talura.
And that was the first time in a long time that she genuinely laughed.
"Are you a living and not dead and you can see me, what are you?"
"I'm a human. If you're not really a mass of shadowy mist, then what are you?", replied Talura shocked at the question.
Azriel hesitated for a minute before answering the question.
"A demon. Specifically the princess of all of Hell".
"Are all demons shadowy mists?", asked Talura.
"Generally yeah", she paused for a minute,"you're not at all afraid of me?"
Talura shook her head no,"after everything I've seen and been through I don't scare easily".
"Funny you strike me as a coward type"
"I'm not a coward! I'll fight you if I have too!", stamped Talura trying to stand her ground.
"Oh really?", Azriel raised an eyebrow in challenged amusement.
She walked over to Talura casually. Talura had her eyes filled with fear and suspicion at what Azriel was going to do next, making Talura back up into a tree.
Azriel was at an arms length and punched Talura in the chest.
"Owww…", said Talura as she rubbed the spot that she punched.
Talura punched Azriel in the chest with equal force and stood up straight looking directly at her. Azriel staggered back a few steps and looked genuinely shocked that someone would dare hit her back.
"No one has ever stood up to me before…", said Azriel slowly, processing what happened.
"I said I'd fight you if I had too. I always keep my word. I believe in fairness", said Talura slowly.
"I never met anyone like you before. I like the way you think", giggled Azriel.
Talura paused for a minute. She didn't know how to respond to that as she's always been told that her way of thinking was flawed, wrong and bad.
"Well...There's more where that came from", said Talura finally.
"I like you, do you want to be friends?", asked Azriel.
"Really? You mean it?", asked Talura excitedly full of hope.
Azriel nodded her head eagerly.
Talura laughed,"Yes. I'd like that very much".
So the two girls played 21 questions with Talura teaching her how to get to know each other. Talura came up with the conclusion that she couldn't run away from home. Otherwise she would never see Azriel again and she couldn't have that. It was in the wee hours of the morn when Talura had to go back home to try to get some sleep.
"We'll come back and meet here again tomorrow", said Azriel.
"Promise?"
"Promise"
They shook on it and Talura went home.
And that was the start of their friendship.
"Yeah sounds about right", laughed Talura.
Azriel gave her a sad smile.
"What's wrong?", asked Talura more seriously. The laughter drained out of her face.
Azriel sighed.
"I suppose I should tell you the real reason why I came up here to see you", she avoided looking at Talura's gaze.
"Why…", her eyes were wide with fear as her stomach was filling up with dread as panic and anxiety was rising in her,"Are you leaving me? Do you not want to be around me anymore? Did I do something wrong?"
"No,no,no,no you didn't do anything wrong! I mean yes I'm leaving you but it has nothing to do with you! It's out of my control! Believe me if I had it my way I would never leave you, come here!", said Azriel as she pulled Talura into a hug wrapping her arms around her tight and holding her close in reassurance.
"What do you mean?", asked Talura quietly through her silent tears. She hugged back tightly, almost as if she let's go then she'll disappear forever.
Azriel sighed as she struggled to explain the situation.
"There's been...unrest...in Hell with the current rulers…".
"Is that why your visits have become more sporadic lately?".
Azriel nodded,"It started three months ago. The unrest that is. It was deemed not safe for me so the security has tightened up a bit. It makes it harder for me to sneak out like I used to. But lately it's been growing stronger and it's really becoming not safe for me to come and go up here as I please. It might even break out into another all out war that's how fragile my world is right now", Azriel shuddered at the thought. She was physically terrified,"so I have to stay in Hell until everything dies down...if it ever does".
"What about your dad, Satan?",asked Talura.
"He makes a better ruler than a father, I have to give him that much. And I'm not just saying that because I'm biased and he's still my dad nevertheless. I can't imagine anyone rebelling against him there's no need too. However I can't say the same for the other rulers in the other realms though"
Talura nodded slowly in understanding,"will you survive? If it does break out into a rebellion or another war?"
Azriel smiled at Talura. Always thinking about others before herself.
She then frowned,"I honestly don't know"
"When will I see you again?"
"Hopefully soon"
"Will I see you again?"
"Hopefully"
Talura sighed, still holding onto Azriel.
"So this is it then. It's the end".
"I'm afraid so...it's only temporary...nothing lasts forever good or bad", said Azriel trying to be optimistic.
She had a point.
"We still got some time left", said Talura quietly.
"Not enough", snorted Azriel.
"Enough to make it count", said Talura.
So they held onto each other and reminisced in old memories that they had together. The night didn't last long enough as dawn was beginning to appear. They slowly peeled away from each other and stood up on opposite sides of the circle.
"So this is it then. Our final goodbye", said Talura sadly and a little awkwardly.
"Not forever"
"Hopefully"
Neither of them made the move to leave.
"Promise me one thing", said Talura.
"Hm?"
"That you'll do everything in your power to try and survive if it comes down to it"
"Promise me you'll do the same".
Talura held her wrist out. Azriel sighed and walked over to her. She knew what Talura wanted. A blood promise. She was against the idea of doing it as Talura was marked up with all kinds of scars that she didn't want to be the one to add another one. But right now they both needed reassurance that they would both do everything they can to survive and a blood promise was the way to go as it was sacred and never should be broken. She grabbed her wrist and used her long finger nail to cut Talura's wrist and her own. Talura sucked in her breath at the burning sensation of the cut before seeing the red beads of blood. Azriel put her bleeding wrist onto hers, mixing the blood. Talura gritted her teeth at the sizzling of it.
"I, Azriel, princess of all of Hell, hear by swear on everything that I am, everything I was and everything I will be, that I will do everything in my power to survive. This is a blood promise and can never be broken"
"I, Talura Anderson, Azriel's best friend and sister, hear by swear on everything that I am, everything I was and everything I will be, that I will do everything in my power to survive. This is a blood promise and can never be broken"
Azriel used her powers to heal the cuts making them turn into white scars. They let go of each other.
"Goodbye Talura. You were everything that I could ever want and hope for. If anything else I'll see you on the other side", said Azriel
"Goodbye Azriel. You were the best friend and sister that I could ever ask for. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you", said Talura.
She slowly turned away and began walking, trying hard not to break down and cry again. Her legs were heavy but she kept walking, not daring to look back. Because if she did she wouldn't leave. Honestly she would probably kill herself right then and there just to be with Azriel. Forever if that was the case.
Azriel just looked at Talura getting farther and farther away, leaving Azriel alone.
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zipgrowth · 5 years
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How Visiting Kids at Home Can Help Us Provide a Better Experience in School
This is a picture of me at almost three years old. That is my mother laying face down on the ground, grandpa’s cowboy boot frames the shot of me looking up at the camera with a weight in my soul. This was one of the days my mother went back to the hospital.
When I was growing up, my mother struggled with mental illness, my stepfather was abusive and I lacked the stability I needed to become a successful student. Like many kids, part of my survival mechanism was to hide what was happening inside the walls of my house. A home visit would have fundamentally changed my life, but no one from my school ever came.
When I was in third grade, my teachers began sending me to the resource room for reading. By fifth grade, I was acting out in class and rarely turning in homework. I started cutting class in middle school and regrettably, by high school, I stole some cash from the lunch line register, skipped school regularly and failed nearly half my classes. By that time, I was dragging everyone who came within arms length into my downward spiral of dysfunction.
The schools I attended missed every opportunity to catch these issues early, and sadly I did not graduate from high school. All was not lost. Luckily, I had some friends whose parents stepped in along the way, providing me a place to stay and encouraging me do homework. Eventually I received my GED, went on to graduate from Gonzaga University and founded a marketing agency.
In 2017, I sold my company and my wife quit her job so we could pursue our dream of creating a school for at-risk students together. One of the first commitments we made was to visit every prospective student’s home so we would understand each individual in broader context. Because of my own troubled history at school, this element was crucial for me. Looking back, I realize that many of these early life experiences have prepared me for the journey I’m on now as we launch our school.
Behavioral issues and even low test scores in the classroom are often the result of experiences that occur outside the school. This research study from the National Institutes of Health (NIH), investigates the correlation between chaotic homes and children’s behavior, and in it, researchers make a strong case that conducting home visits has a net positive impact on the school, as they can provide valuable information about the student.
In the early planning phases for Sisu Academy, our all-girls tuition-free boarding high school, we realized that in order to capture the full needs of our students, we had to understand the world they live in. Sisu is designed to meet the needs of underserved and underprepared students. Because our program focuses on fragile communities, the context of our student’s family situation plays a major role at the starting line of each student’s experience.
How Home Visits Help Us Serve the Whole Child
Despite being a residential program, we know that the more support we can provide the families of our students, the more success we will have in the long run. What if a student is the primary child care provider for their three younger siblings? What if the family doesn’t have a bank account? What if there is no healthy food in the home? Answers to these types of questions are nearly impossible to discover until you step into someone’s home.
If a student ultimately ends up at Sisu Academy, the system has probably already failed the child in some way. Whether the child’s obstacles stem from difficult family dynamics or their school environment, the vulnerable population we serve needs more services than a traditional day school can provide. With negative life experiences arising all around them, these students are not in a position to fully participate in their learning, often leading to unfavorable social issues, problems with self-confidence and attention-seeking outbursts at school.
So, as we embarked on the planning phase of our new school, we spent a great deal of time connecting with experts in a number of fields to better understand how to address educating students who are failing in school because of out-of-school obstacles. We met with social workers, mental health professionals, individuals who work in the foster care system and in our local juvenile court. Everyone we talked to had suggestions about creating wrap-around services and support structures for our students. Almost in passing, the majority added, “and, if you could possibly stop by the house to visit, that would be amazing.”
We decided that home visits would become part of the admittance process for Sisu and began planning out what these visits would look like. We considered scripting our questions, meeting with kids and parents separately and administering short surveys to learn more about the child’s living conditions, but because many of our students tend to have challenges at home, we take a conversational approach to keep things casual and non-confrontational.
Staying Present
Mindy Ahrens, principal at Sisu, who has been on almost a dozen home visits says, “Home visits allow you to see a student in a way that she would never allow you to see at school.”
It’s not just the conversation that illuminates our understanding of a child in broader context, it’s also the atmosphere. “Home visiting is shown to be a deeply embodied practice in which all the senses and emotions come into play and movement is central,” Harry Ferguson, professor and researcher of social work and child protection writes in his research paper on home visits. That’s why the biggest key for a successful visit is to be observant and present in the moment.
It’s not always an obstacle or challenge that you find—sometimes a home visit can provide a school with invaluable information about a student’s interest, offering a strong foundation for building a relationship.
Take Sarah for example, a prospective Sisu student. On a recent visit to her house, we gathered much of the information we needed nonverbally, just after entering her home. On this home visit everyone showed up: Sarah, both of her parents, her grandmother and her younger brother. As we walked through the door, we took in the surrounding environment, and as the eight of us sat around the kitchen table, we noticed an old guitar propped up against the wall near the fireplace. The markings on the face of the guitar revealed years of use. In the room to the right of the kitchen, we saw two pianos.
After niceties were shared and we were all settled in, I asked Sarah’s mom who teaches piano and plays the guitar. It turns out that in addition to his day job, Sarah’s dad is a music teacher on the side—and Sarah is a talented musician. This visit helped us discover that one of our prospective students had a passion for music, which allowed us to connect with her in a more meaningful way.
If we are going to build strong relationships with our students and truly create lifelong learners, we must start the process with genuine care, zeal and curiosity for learning about each one. Finding out what makes an individual tick requires understanding the environment they spend most of their time in when they’re outside the classroom.
Home visits typically uncover opportunities for us to develop deeper relationships—whether by helping us learn about a student’s passions and talents, or deepening our understanding of the challenges a student is facing and related stressors.
There is power in knowing more about our students than what we see on paper. Although these visits are time consuming, they’re critical—getting into the home can make a world of difference in the kinds of learning experiences we can provide for students in school. When we enter a student’s home, we demonstrate a commitment to understanding each child’s circumstance, we show children and families that they are valued and we help school staff build relationships with students that are rooted in trust.
How Visiting Kids at Home Can Help Us Provide a Better Experience in School published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness
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leileiah · 6 years
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I miss the silence.
Sometimes I go to make a Facebook status and I stop myself and come to tumblr or make a note on my phone that will never see the light of day. I say this at the start of almost everything but holy cow it’s been a hard couple of years. I’m so ready to be over this hump. SO READY. But also, so unbelievably overwhelmed. 
I’m not sure how I forget that this house is no longer the quiet peaceful house I used to come home to a handful of years ago. My bedroom shares a wall with my 15 year old nephew and another with my almost 90 year old grandpa. I take after my parents in most things, especially when it comes to noise. I am a pretty quiet person to live with. I don’t talk very much, there isn’t a television in my room, and if I listen to music it’s usually in my car. I’m so used to this house being this quiet place where my parents would rather read than watch tv, where everyone kind of does their own thing and comes together for meals. While most of that is still true, everyone still kind of does there own thing, my room is in the middle of the most noise this house has probably ever witnessed. 
My grandpa watches the news VERY loudly. And I mean, it’s his right, he’s an old man. He also goes to the bathroom in the middle of the night and doesn’t take the time to slowly shut a door so door slams are another thing. I do enjoy the sound of his shuffling feet on the carpet. I love how he’s always humming a song. So, the good outweighs the bad. 
My nephew. Basically, my nephew is the little brother I never had. I’m the youngest. It’s very, very hard, for me to see my parents baby a teenager because they didn’t baby me or my brother to the extent that they’re babying now. Do I get it? Of course I do. He’s had a hard hand dealt to him. I love him. I would take a bullet for him, without hesitation. With that said, I do not understand teenage boys. It is a different world we are living in now compared to the world I lived in when I interacted with teenage boys daily. I also only saw them in social environments. My brother is so much older than me that my memory of living with a teenage boy is limited. 
My nephew lives in his bedroom. Most of the time he eats in his bedroom, something that was very very rare for me growing up. He plays video games like 20 hours out of 24 hours in a day. He talks to the people he’s playing those games with while he’s playing them, I don’t get it. Last night he was talking to a girl on SPEAKER while he played a game, while talking to the people playing the game. I know I should find this to be the same as me sitting on a bedroom floor watching a boy play video games, but I can’t wrap my head around it. 
The language I hear from my bedroom, the conversations I’m NOT trying to hear every word of, they are shocking to me. I have to constantly remind myself that while I want to think that his upbringing is similar to mine, it hasn’t always. My parents don’t say the f word ever, but my brother says it all the time. I’m sure feeling cool as a teenager saying words that you’re not supposed to say on top of hearing your dad say them most of your life, I get it, that must be hard to break out of. 
Being around a teenager, for basically the first time in my life when I’m not a teenager too, is eye-opening. As a teenager I felt a lot of shame, and personal responsibility. I felt insecure, lonely, accountable for my actions. I felt afraid of getting into trouble. I felt like I didn’t belong, a lot. But at the end of the day I also had a house down the street where one of my best friends lived. I didn’t mind watching A Wedding Story with my mom after school and taking a nap before killing myself with the hours of homework I had each day. I didn’t feel a need to pick up a sport, club, or hobby, until it was necessary for me to have something on my transcripts to get into college. I felt rejected a lot because I never was a true part of any friend group I hung out with. But even if I felt like a loner and a lot of things could be defined as me being a loner, I wasn’t one. I didn’t have plans every weekend, but I did have plans often. People remember me from high school even when I don’t remember them. I kissed boys. I had a boyfriend for a week or two here and there. I was secretive with my parents because their rules seemed a lot more strict than I thought I deserved them to be. That sounds really manipulative, but it is true. My parents worried so much that I would get caught up in the wrong crowd or have some sort of bad reputation, but I never really had that in me. I think a lot of being a teenager is just giving into your own personality. It’s never been “me” to take risks. So I went on dates and told my parents I was going with a group. So I went to a late movie when I spent the night at a friend’s house. I did the most minimal risk taking secretive behavior. My brother, on the other hand, was always a risk taker. He always wanted to challenge authority and rules. And while I know that my nephew is not my brother, I cannot help but see some similarities in their personalities. 
There’s something so blatantly disrespectful to me about saying words you know you’re not allowed to say out loud loudly. Nothing whispered, nothing even a little bit hidden, just OUT THERE. It’s hard for me. It’s hard for me to not step in and say, listen, you think you sound like an adult and I understand that. I’ve worked in places where people talk JUST like that. Adults saying the f word almost every other word JUST like that. But you know what that says to me? It says that they don’t know how to talk. It says that they’re so unsure about how to sound smart that they’ve resorted to sounding like a teenager’s perspective of what an adult sounds like. I’m not saying DON’T ever say the f word. But let some words MEAN something. Don’t let words that pack a punch be filler words. There are SO MANY words! Find better ones that better suit what you’re wanting to say. 
The house wakes up at 5am every weekday. So at 5am, I hear some of the worst music I’ve ever heard for about an hour. I remember the selfishness of being a teenager and I’m not going to tell the boy he can’t get ready listening to his music, but my god I miss silence. 
While everyone was at church today, I cleaned the kitchen, I took a shower, and then I sat on my bed in silence, just to soak it in before they returned. Weekdays are better, obviously. I have the entire morning of stillness and quiet. It’s only been a week since I’ve been back, and now I know what I’m dealing with. I know when I should post up downstairs and enjoy the quiet there. I know I can disguise needing quiet with saying I want to watch a show downstairs. I know I can sit in the room no one uses and no one will bother me. I’m getting the hang of being in this house. I am. I know once I have a job it will all be easier. A routine will make everything so much nicer.
As much as I want to keep this feeling very temporary, I do need to be realistic with this situation and with myself. If unpacking everything will make me feel like this is it for now, then I need to do that. Because this isn’t the time for me to sit on my bed and watch Netflix and scroll through instagram. I did that enough in 2017 to last me a lifetime. I am overwhelmed. I did need a second to breathe and decompress. I might need a day or two more. I do need to be patient with myself. But there are things I need money for. Things I need to save for. I need to save to get that silence back. To be with my boyfriend in our own place again. To have that silence while I wake up in the morning. To have that silence after a long day. There are things I am working towards, and so what if those things are on a more personal level than a professional one? I just need A job. I don’t need THE job. I need to be ok. I need to actually take care of myself and that mean more than binging a show and taking a bath. I need to tackle my credit card bill. 
I do feel so lucky to be here. I feel lucky to have this time with my family, and a couple of my closest and oldest friends. This time may seem like a bump right now, but in the future when I look back I’m going to be so happy that I was able to see my parents so much. That two of the babies I know get to know who I am. It does feel good to be here for a number of reasons, and I have to be better at reminding myself of them. 
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