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peakyblinders1919 · 2 years

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Runaway

The burning in her lungs was familiar for a cross country runner like her, but this time it was different. She wasn’t racing towards the finish line; she was trying to run away from something. Someone.

She knew a bad thing when she saw it, that was just the way life was for someone like her; practically growing up on the streets of Oceanside, you learned to trust your gut.

That’s why she couldn’t believe she was running now. She hadn’t seen it.

It had taken until date number three to realize Kyle Ruiz was like every other boy trying to get her to pull her pants down for him in the backseat of his car. Sure, she always knew him to be a bit handsy, but just because she’d let him slip his hands under her shirt on date two, didn’t mean that allowed him access to the rest of her whenever he wanted. Parked out by the beach where they watched the sun lower to the horizon where sky met ocean, he tried again, hands wandering south as they kissed.

She pulled back abruptly. And when she told him “no”, told him firmly to “stop it”, apparently it was hard to hear her or he suddenly didn’t speak fucking English because it didn’t make him stop. Hands, scalding hot, continued their descent down under her skirt until she slapped him across the face. He retaliated, ego bruised, and the only way he knew how to make it up was continually forcing himself onto her. She struggled, seeing red, until she landed her Converse to his side and scrambled out the door.

Running but with no destination in mind was familiar too. It seemed to be a not-so-subtle metaphor for her life, running, always running towards the end goal that she knew nothing about. She’d been running for so long, she was starting to fear it didn’t exist.

Her feet had taken her far across the city and beach. But not far enough. Headlights opened by a sickening familiar truck blinded her from down the road, and she had no choice but to act quick.

That’s how she found herself in the middle of someone else’s backyard. Thrown into the midst of what she originally thought was a wholesome family dinner, she discovered it was actually an infamous Cody family meeting. Wholly undressed, a deer caught in head look gracing her features, the menacing stares she earned from the Cody boys in turn were less threatening than that sleezeball Kyle Ruiz. Right about now, she’d much rather been in the notorious family gang’s presence than his.

Locking eyes with the youngest, J, she knew all about him. Coming from Oceanside as a bit of a legend herself, it was a wonder how the two weren’t closer. She opened her mouth, though words failed her at that moment.

“Y/N, hey, I thought we agreed we’re studying tomorrow.”

There was the scraping of his seat against the concrete patio as he stood, the condescending voice of his grandmother asking him,” who‘s the friend of yours baby,” and the intimidating nature of his three cousins either waiting for her answer or to forcefully show her the way out. All followed by the subtle raise in J’s eyebrow as his way to say “play along”.

“Oh, did we? Sorry, must have gotten my days mixed up. I uh.. I can just come back, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Interrupt whatever it was she literally had ran into.

“Offer her a drink baby. We’ll finish this later.” She was suddenly very aware of her heavy breathing, hair stuck to her forehead cheeks with sweat from her run, and it was obvious her entrance was planned. She could use a getaway.

She followed J inside and took him up on his offer for a cold beer. It was silent as they sipped in unison, not sure when the other would make the first move, ask the obvious question: You know my name?

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She lied, eyes glued to the tab on her beer can. “Sorry, I got turned around on my run, I don’t know how I ended up here.” Literally.

“What were you running from?” He was quick to judge, quick to know better than to ask why were you running. Something only an Oceansider would know. Her blank expression was more telling than she thought. “Is there someone following you?”

She looked up abruptly, his voice deep, matter-of-fact, and surprisingly comforting.“No. Not anymore.”

“Was it someone you knew?” He talked with such authority, crossed his arms on a powerful way.

“Kyle Ruiz.” She mumbled under her breathe, embarrassment hidden underneath.

“Kyle Ruiz? What… what were you doing with Kyle Ruiz?” If he sounded the least bit jealous, he had no right to be.

“Not what he wanted, so I had to get out of there.”

He chuckled. “I thought you were smarter than agreeing to go on a date with Kyle Ruiz. He’s a grade A pervert.” She didn’t know how to accept his compliment and did all in one.

“Are you actually alright?” His voice was softer now as it filled the silence between them. She nodded.

“Does he know where you live?”

She nodded again. It was the first and last time she’d let a guy pick her up from her house for a date.

“We’ll, you can stay here if you want. Smurf’s got an extra room; it’s like collecting strays is her pastime. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. I can… we can watch out for you, you know. Kids like us, growing up on the streets of Oceanside, we’ve got to look out for each other.”

It was their first real conversation and she had thought he barely knew her name, instead he was offering her an invitation to stay, as if they were that close.

“Thanks Cody, but I think I can manage.” She finished her beer and for up to leave, overwhelmed by the situation she had found herself in, all because of the situation she’d so dumbly put herself in earlier that night. She was never a charity case, and there was something about the way the silver moon seemed to reflect on J’s green eyes (thought impossible) that made her question things. Was he like Kyle Ruiz, wanting whatever he could get too?

Heading towards the sliding door, she felt his hand grasp her rust, gently holding her in place.

Cool. His hands were the opposite of Kyle’s; where his left painful burns, J’s was cool and soothing, immediately making her heart slow. Like she was safe.

“Stay,” he said softly before clearing his throat and letting go of her wrist. “Until he’s not angry about not getting his way anymore. As much as Kyle’s a dumbass who can’t pass freshman math, he’s a street smart. Knows how to get what he wants. Until he moves on.” While he had been talking he stripped his bed of the pillows and blanket. A hint of a smile finally crossed his features. “You can stay in here, I’ll have the couch. Goodnight Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, J?” She called, making him look back at her. “Thank you.”

#animal kingdom imagine #animal kingdom tnt #animal kingdom fic #joshua cody imagine #j cody imagine #joshua cody fanfic #j cody fanfiction

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toosicktoocare · 3 years

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hi, here’s some Buck and Eddie sleeping quarantining together

It’s ten minutes of Buck listening to Eddie roll and shift around in his makeshift bed that he clears his throat and props himself up on his elbow, sighing. “This is stupid.” It’s dark, but he can still make out the dark lump on the floor beside his bed moving until it’s taller, and Eddie’s bare, tan skin is barely visible, his blanket pooling around his waist.

“Is this your way of inviting me to the bed?” Eddie’s voice is passively eager, and Buck sighs again, louder, a little more drawn out.

“Yes.” He drags out the word, a laugh slipping past his lips as Eddie hops up from the floor and throws himself on the bed, rolling over Buck to the empty side.

Eddie breathes through a deep sigh, the content evident on his breath, and Buck rolls over until he’s lying on his side, facing Eddie with a cocked brow.

“The floor can’t be that bad.”

“Tell that to my back.”

Buck huffs out a laugh, and he moves until he’s lying on his back, matching Eddie’s position. He stares at the ceiling, and though his muscles are still, his heart’s beginning to quicken in speed until it’s a rapid, rabbit’s foot thump against his rib cage. “This isn’t weird, right?”

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Eddie grumbles around a yawn, and Buck can feel Eddie shift around in the bed.

He peers over to see Eddie lying on his stomach, his back faintly exposed with the blanket only pulled up to his hips. His head is turned away from Buck, and contradicting his own words, Buck stares, his eyes following the small, sharp curve of Eddie’s back.

“Go to sleep, Buck,” Eddie mutters, and Buck whips his gaze back to the ceiling and swallows thickly.

He’s thankful his ceiling fan ticks slightly because otherwise, he’s sure Eddie would be able to physically hear his heart threatening to burst out his chest. He squeezes his eyes closed tightly and takes to breathing exercies to steady his heart rate: in for four, hold for seven, out for four. He repeats this until his face falls slack, and then comes the water.

It creeps at the edge of his dream, a muted crescendo to decrescendo lapping faintly at his ears. It brings a furrow to his brow, and he rolls onto his side, his back to Eddie, to try and jostle the hint of a dream away during a brief bout of consciousness.

It comes back stronger when he nods off again. He falls into his first REM cycle, and the water’s all around him, floating debris slamming against his ankles. He stares around, stuck in a vast, seemingly endless, pool of rushing water that whips strongly around him, trying to pull him off his feet.

He holds his ground, bracing himself with bent knees, but then the debris gets bigger, longer, and he spares a glance down to see that the chairs and trashcan lids have morphed into listless bodies floating along the pulsing waves.

No, he thinks, shaking his head. Something’s off. The dark walls around him are closing in, but they can’t because he’s missing something. Someone..?

“Christopher?”

He works the name around his jaw, frowning, and the single word feels sour but right. Christopher should be with him, beside him, his small hand in his, but he’s not. There are bodies floating face first in the water around him, and Christopher isn’t here.

“Chris?” he tries, eyes scanning his darkening surroundings. He can’t... He can’t lose Christopher; he...

“Christopher!”

Something latches onto Buck’s leg, sharp, breaking his skin, and he falls, his entire head going under. The water’s cold and murky, painted in faint wisps of red, and Buck cannot breathe. There’s something heavy pushing against his chest, keeping him under, and he can’t break free.

“Christopher!” he shouts, dirty water rushing into his mouth, sinking heavy in his lungs. He twists and fights against the dark force against his chest. He tries to break free because he can’t breathe, and if he can’t breathe, then Christopher probably can’t breathe.

The water around him is growing redder, thicker. It’s getting harder to see, and it’s cold.

“Buck!”

He pushes with every muscle; his jaw clenched tightly. “Christopher!” he calls back. “I”m here!”

“Buck!”

Christopher’s voice sounds different, deeper but similarly desperate, and Buck’s lungs are burning. He needs to...

“Buck!”

Buck jerks forward, a strangled scream ripping up his throat, and he grips at the arms in front of him, staring frantically hard at the face before him, a face that’s pale, lifeless, floating, until it’s not.

“Buck? You with me?”

Eddie’s face slowly gains life and color until Buck can make out his sharp, worried features: his dark eyes narrowed, his forehead creased, his jaw set hard. “Eddie?” he rasps out, fingers tightening around Eddie’s arms.

“Hey, yeah. It’s me. Are you okay?”

A loaded question. Buck’s far from fine; Buck hasn’t been fine for a long time. He nods, but he doesn’t miss the way Eddie’s frown deepens.

“You were mumbling for Christopher.”

“It was just a dream,” Buck tries. He doesn’t want Eddie to worry about him; he doesn’t want anyone to see through the plasters he’s thrown up to mask his cracks.

“About the tsunami? Buck, have you-”

“-it’s fine, Eddie,” Buck says, pushing his voice to be light yet firm. “I’m fine.” Even as he says it, his fingers are still digging into Eddie’s arms, and he slowly releases his grip and falls back against his back with a sigh. “Sorry.”

Even through the dark, Buck can make out the brief pull of conflict against Eddie’s face. He knows Eddie wants to say more, but instead, Eddie carefully lies back on his back, his shoulder brushing against Buck’s.

“You going to be okay?”

No, Buck thinks.

“Of course.”

***

Buck stares at his bed; it’s still a mess of tangled sheets. His comforter’s been kicked toward the end of the bed. He got hot last night, after his dream. The heat was welcome though, comforting and encompassing, and when he woke to his alarm, he was on his side, and Eddie was pressed flush against his back, his arm wrapped tightly around Buck’s waist.

Buck can’t remember his dreams from the night before after the intrusive tsunami one. All he can remember is bright, wide-open warmth that wrapped around him, carried him over a light, welcoming breeze.

“Should we make the bed first?”

Buck turns a smile to Eddie, who’s walked up to his side, head tilting at the mess of the bed.

“I never really saw the point of making a bed if you’re just going to mess it up again later.”

Eddie breathes through a laugh, and he slips around Buck and flops onto the bed, a deep sigh morphing into a groan. “Me either, but my mother and my grandmother insisted.”

“Well, luckily they aren’t here, and you’re just stuck with me.” Buck climbs onto the bed, watching as Eddie fiddles with his phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Facetime, Chris,” Eddie starts, and he tugs at Buck’s arm until Buck’s falling onto his back beside Eddie, his shoulder knocking into Eddie’s.

Eddie holds his phone up until the camera’s squishing both their faces close into the small square in the corner, and then the call’s being answered, and Christopher’s face is so close, his smile so wide.

“Buck!”

Buck suddenly feels warm from head to toe, and he smiles so naturally wide. “Hey, Christopher!”

“Are you and daddy having a sleepover?”

Eddie snorts, and Buck slaps his leg outside of the camera. “Your dad’s elderly back can’t handle the floor.” He laughs loudly when Eddie’s over-dramatic pout covers their small screen in the corner.

“Tell us about your day, Chris. How’s virtual school going?”

Buck listens as Chris talks excitedly about his day, in specific detail, and for the first time, despite everything that’s happening and has happened, he feels calm, at peace, if he’s willing to admit he’s being cliche.

Chris and Eddie bounce naturally off each other for thirty minutes before Chris has to get off to get ready for bed. He and Eddie follow suit, and before Buck knows it, he’s back in last night’s position, lying on his back in the dark and staring at the ceiling, hoping, desperately, that his ceiling fan will continue to mask the echoing thump of his heart.

They lie like this for a while, and though Buck says nothing out loud, he knows Eddie’s still awake and working through his own thoughts.

“You know Chris is okay, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Because of you,” Eddie adds. “Chris is fine.”

There are things Buck knows that Eddie leaves unsaid: it was a while ago, stop worrying about it, I’m not mad.

“He’s a strong kid,” Buck opts for, turning his gaze when Eddie shifts until he’s propped up on his elbow, his body twisted toward Buck.

“You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. Though,” Eddie pauses, his face falling, “I wish you would. But, whether you open up to me or not, I know I’ve told you before, but you’ve got to let go of the guilt, Buck. No one could have predicted that, and you literally drove yourself to a hospital bed searching for him. You didn’t just save him, either. You saved so many people that day, and I don’t blame you for what happened. I haven’t lost my trust in you. I still stand by my thinking that Chris is safest when he’s with you.”

Buck’s eyes are stinging. He blinks quickly, slowing craning his neck until’s he’s looking up into Eddie’s dark eyes. “Good thing you just did enough talking for both of us.”

Eddie groans around a light laugh, and he flops back down onto the bed, twisting his body more toward Buck until he’s draping himself half atop Buck, his face dropping to Buck’s neck.

“I hate you. Haven’t you ever heard of a moment?”

“Who the hell has moments at 10 PM?”

“Lots of people!”

“Will you two please shut up?”

Eddie pushes himself up, his lips pursing together, biting back a laugh at Chimney’s groan from the couch downstairs.

Buck can’t help but giggle, and then Eddie’s falling back against him, and they’re trying, and promptly failing, to cover their laughs.

“I forgot he was here,” Eddie whispers.

“Too lost in the moment?”

Eddie buries his face back to the crook of Buck’s neck, and his breathy laugh is warm against Buck’s skin. They lie like this for a moment, both laughing quietly until their breathing evens out, and only the sound of the ticking ceiling fan cuts through the silence.

“Are you going to be okay tonight?”

Buck’s seen Chris tonight. Granted, it was through a camera that sometimes froze, leaving Chris’s voice still echoing through the speaker despite his face blurred mid-turn. But, he saw him. Alive. Breathing. Steady on dry land. And, Buck thinks, he’s got a very real, very alive, body atop him, keeping him grounded, keeping him from floating away.

Is he okay? No, Buck thinks. Okay is a loaded word with multiple jagged edges that struggle to smooth out and meet in the middle. But, tonight? With Eddie firm at his side, with Christopher safe and warm in his own bed?

“Yeah,” he says, and he can feel Eddie smile against his neck.

“I think I will be.”

#Buddie #911 fox #9 1 1 #9 1 1 fox #evan buckley #Eddie Diaz #hurt/comfort #fanfiction #emotional hurt/comfort #nightmares

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sunshinelikesavatar · 3 years

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Here We Are

In which Zuko crashes a ship, ends up very far from home, and meets a Water Tribe woman and her firebending son.

AO3 Link

Lightning blinded Zuko as he scrambled across the small deck of his ship, desperately trying to tie everything down. It would have been hard enough with the storm raging (seemingly out of nowhere), tossing his ship around and threatening to send him to the bottom of the sea, but now—now—

He wished his uncle were here. He wished he was far from this ship, curled up with a scroll as he listened to a storm rage outside, dry and warm. That his mother was alive, that his father wasn’t cruel and callous, that his country wasn’t fighting a pointless war—that he could secure his belongings before he lost them to the waves that crashed over the deck—

The rope that tied him to the ship had saved him at least twice already, and as his feet were swept out from under him again, he clung to it as he was thrown against the mast. He gasped as the breath was knocked out of him and desperately tried to stand. Another wave filled his mouth with saltwater and he coughed and hacked and tried to brace himself against the wood behind him. As the ship tilted, though, he lost his footing and crashed to the ground, clipping his temple on something as he went down.

His last thought before unconsciousness took him was somewhat nonsensical, all things considered:

I hope the tea set doesn’t break.

With a sigh, Zuko nuzzled down into the pillow. What a strange dream that had been, so violent. It felt so real, though. His body hurt and ached like he’d really been thrown around in a storm, and his throat even felt raw, like he’d been coughing up water.

Which is when he started coughing, coughing until the muscles of his chest were spasming and involuntary tears from the pain were leaking down his cheeks and sparks flew between his teeth. Trying to stand to get a drink or something didn’t work—he got as far as kneeling before he had to curl forward, forehead pressed into the pillow. He wondered if he’d die like this, alone and hacking out a lung.

A cool hand rested on his shoulder, incredibly soothing. As it moved, rubbing up and down his back, the urge to cough subsided. That hand should have frightened him, but he was so relieved and distracted from his diaphragm no longer attempting to eject itself from his body that he just focused on breathing, gasping in deep gulps of air.

Exhausted and realizing that he had no idea what was going on, he turned his face on the pillow to blearily blink up at the person kneeling next to him with his good eye. There was a fire lit behind them, though, leaving him only with a person-shaped silhouette. They had been kind, though—this was obviously not his room nor his cabin on the ship, and he was laid out on something comfortable. Warm and dry and not clinging to rope hoping the sea wouldn’t swallow him whole.

He tried to say thank you, but all that came out was a hum. The cool hand on his back moved up to his face, brushing back his hair. “Do you want water?” a woman’s voice asked him and he managed a nod. It took a bit of effort, but between the two of them they managed to get him sitting back on his feet as a cup of cold water was held to his lips.

It was not any easier to see the face of the woman helping him, but he supposed it didn’t matter too much. He cleared his throat, wincing at the burn of it, and rasped out, “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he reveled in the ease of his breaths before shifting around to lay down again, bracing himself with his arm as he went. Curling into the warmth of—were they furs? It felt like furs, soft and fluffy—he told himself he would just rest a little while, just for a few minutes.

Katara watched the man as he slept, considering his face.

He was much more relaxed than he had been when she rescued him from the crashed remains of his boat. She was glad he’d woken up for a little bit to cough the water out of his lungs, even if it had left him crying (and breathing out sparks, and hadn’t that been a surprise?). Gently, she brushed her thumb against his unscarred cheek, wiping the tears away.

This was not a circumstance she could have foreseen. The only Fire Nation ships that came down to the South Pole were navy ships, armed and threatening if not outright invading. This man’s boat had been much smaller, made of wood and not metal. The broken boxes of supplies showed only the normal things one would expect to see on a personal boat: food, clothes (no armor), some trinkets and weapons, an oddly extensive collection of play scrolls, and a carefully packed tea set.

She had sent Kallik to gather up all the things he could and leave them just outside their hut so he wouldn’t disturb the man’s rest. In this particular case, she thought with a frown, perhaps it was for the best that her hut was on the outskirts of the village.

Because it was indeed a Fire Nation man currently sprawled on her bedding, a firebender, nuzzling cutely into the pillow. Pale skin and black hair could be Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation, but those brilliant gold eyes only came from one archipelago, and it wasn’t like earthbenders went around spitting sparks. So here he was, a Fire Nation man, horribly scarred and burned but born of fire nonetheless. The other villagers would not have dragged his limp form from the wreckage to save him, would not have healed his obvious head wound with waterbending or given him comfort as he cleared his lungs, but she had the beginnings of a very, very stupid plan stirring in her mind, and it required the cooperation of a Fire Nation man such as this.

Satisfied that he would rest easy, she turned her attention to his clothes drying by the fire. They were nicely made and no doubt the thin and light fabric was practical near the equator, but the weather further south required wools and furs. Shaking her head, she pulled out an old parka that had recently been given to her from one of the kinder grandmothers of the village and started to mend the obvious problems. If her plan was to work, this man would need a parka, sturdy boots, thicker pants and tunics—all the necessities, really. Even if all signs pointed to him not trying to end up here in the first place.

It was a while before Kallik poked his head through the door and grinned at her before turning his gaze to the sleeping man. He tiptoed over to her and settled by her side. “I got all the stuff I could and put it in the boxes by the door, like you said,” he whispered. “But Mom, who is he?”

She smiled at his impatience, smoothing a hand over his black hair and kissing his forehead. “It’s a surprise, sweetie.”

Kallik rolled his golden eyes and flopped against her. “Ugh, mom, I’m seven now. I’m too old for surprises!”

“Now that is just completely untrue.” She held the fur of the parka a little closer and pursed her lips. She’d probably need to patch the next tear…she set it aside for now, though. “Come on, help me with the bigger things in the wreckage and let him sleep.” Kallik pouted but followed her out.

The next time Zuko woke up, he was feeling much more alert. He could feel the sun’s energy zipping through his blood, high in the sky, calling him to wake and move and get on with the day.

A woman sat by the fire, stirring a pot of something. She turned to him as he pushed himself to a sitting position and smiled. “Hello,” she said, her voice kind and open. “Are you feeling hungry?”

To say he was confused would be to understate the situation. She was...Water Tribe. Very obviously Water Tribe, with dark skin and hair, bright blue eyes, and blue-dyed clothes that looked to be made of thick wool. The hut they were in was lined with hides, with Water Tribe decorations and stylings. And as far as he was aware, people of the Water Tribe didn’t exactly get along with the people of the Fire Nation.

His uncle had told him before to never look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth, though, so he merely nodded and took the bowl of stew and hunk of bread she passed him. It may have been the effect of surviving the worst storm of his life (he was pretty sure that hadn’t been a dream), but the food was absolutely delicious and he did his best to eat every drop, balancing the bowl on his legs as he used the bread to sop up the soup.

She let him eat in silence, putting a lid on the pot and pulling out some sewing. He watched her work, apparently unconcerned with the strange man sitting no more than four feet away. She was patching the knees of a small pair of pants and making tiny, precise stitches with a smile on her face. When he finished, putting his bowl on the ground by the fire, she put aside her sewing and turned to face him.

“My name is Katara,” she started. “You’re in one of the Southern Water Tribe villages at the South Pole.”

He couldn’t help the incredulous “What?” that burst out of him. What was he doing so far south? Had the storm really blown him so far?

She bit her lip and continued, “Also, your ship is completely wrecked.”

Dismayed, Zuko spluttered. That ship...that ship had taken up all his savings for the past six years to buy, and the first time he took it out for more than a day, he wrecked it?

“No one here knows how to fix a boat like yours,” she was saying, “So even if it wasn’t just firewood at this point, you probably couldn’t leave in it.”

He couldn’t help the slump of his shoulders. This had been his great escape, his plan to start a new life far from his father and sister. A truly inauspicious beginning, he thought with a scowl.

The woman, Katara, got to her feet and brushed off her tunic. “I have a canoe, though, and could take you to a nearby island if you wanted.” And he was baffled by her generosity, to do so much to help a stranger from a nation at war with hers. Before he could thank her, though, she said, “But I do have an alternative proposition for you.”

He leaned back, narrowing his eyes at her. It had been too good to be true after all.

Holding her hands out to the sides, she simply said, “You could stay here.”

And that was...not what he had expected. He cleared his throat, sure he’d misunderstood. “I beg your pardon?”

She sighed and pulled her braid over her shoulder to tug at it. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how to sell this to you. To make a long story short—”

Which is when the door to the hut burst open. Years of instinct had him jumping to his feet, arms in ready position. He let them drop as he saw it was a child. “Mom, Mom, Mom, I figured it out, you have to see what I did, I—” The child—a boy—turned to him with—

Golden eyes.

Oh.

He felt a bit sick. He wondered if his conclusions were hasty, though. Maybe...maybe she had happily married a Fire Nation man, who just happened to be out on a trip or something. During a war. In which he knew that there had been several raids on the Southern Water Tribe around the time of this boy’s likely birth date.

Katara’s smile was warm, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she steadied her son from his rush inside. “Kallik, I told you, play outside until I call for you.”

That seemed to startle the boy out of staring at him (at his face, at his arm, and people always seemed to stare) with wide eyes. “Oh! But Mom, I had to show you right away—” He held out his palms, cupped together, and furrowed his brow. A tiny flame popped into existence above his hands. It was, objectively speaking, a sad and flickering little thing, nearly entirely red with lack of heat and threatening to go out with each puff of air as the boy said, “Look, I figured it out! I made it on purpose!”

Which implied that there wasn’t a firebender around to teach him the most basic of firebending skills, such as, say, a loving father figure.

And Katara smiled and hugged her firebending son, kissing his hair. “Sweetie, great job! I knew you could do it! You’ve been practicing so hard. I’m so proud of you.” The boy beamed bright as a sunbeam. Then she laughed and gently pushed the boy out of the hut. “But I was serious about you playing outside! We’ve got some boring grown-up things to talk about.” Kallik groaned and whined but made his way out the door.

It was pretty easy to fit together the few pieces he had. He’d heard about this sort of thing, of soldiers who had so little honor that they would...would…Swallowing (his throat still hurt but he tried to ignore it), he looked at Katara again.

She shrugged and gave him a small smile. “Well, um, that’s my son. He’s...he’s just turned seven and he started...well, firebending.” Biting her lip, she looked towards the door. “There have been a few accidents recently. Nothing deadly or anything, but he gets so excited, and, well…” Here she mimed an expanding fire. “You know.”

He did know. It was something every new little firebender had to learn to deal with, how to temper the flame in your heart so it didn’t burn the world around you. Usually, there were family members, neighbors, teachers, friends, all sorts of people to support them.

Not here, though.

“I’m not...there’s no one here to help him. And I do want to help him, but I don’t know how.”

He almost asked about the boy’s father before he decided that was a terrible ideaand he should not ever bring that up ever, what’s wrong with me? “And you think I could?”

She wiggled her hand in a so-so kind of way. “If you were just here as a teacher, that would be easiest, but the village would hardly accept that. They almost turned me away just because of Kallik.”

Which also implied that this was not her home village, which meant she had either run away, been sent away, or her family was dead and she was alone. All of those options were heartbreaking.

“But...they don’t know the circumstances of Kallik’s, um...of Kallik.” Her face started flushing as she continued, “If I could pass you off as, um, my h-husband, only just able to join us here, that would p-probably work.”

There was already one glaring hole in the plan, though. “Most firebending teachers have both arms,” he managed to get out, turning his gaze to the central fire pit. As it often did whenever it came up, the space where his left arm had once been felt overly conspicuous.

Her hands were wrapped tightly around her braid now as she steadfastly focused on something on the floor. “That might actually, uh, help. You wouldn’t seem as...threatening, that way. And I don’t mean for you to teach him to fight, just to help him control his bending.”

He wondered how he would have reacted to that as a teenager, angry and desperate to prove himself to a father that didn’t care, that he didn’t seem threatening to a village of peasants. And he tried to remember and hold on to his uncle’s words of support, that losing an arm didn’t make him less of a man or a firebender, no matter what people thought. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. “So you want me to live here with you? Pretend to be your husband while I teach your son?” And was he actually considering this as a serious possibility? He hadn’t really had a plan besides “leave the Fire Nation,” after all.

“It sounds so dumb when you put it like that,” she muttered, “but yes, basically.”

And wow, there must be something fundamentally wrong with him as a person, because he didn’t even think before saying, “And it won’t bother you to have a...a Fire Nation man around all the time? With...with how Kallik, um…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Actually, he was fairly sure he should just burn up into ashes on the spot for bringing up the thing that was probably the most traumatic experience of this woman’s life.

Katara was looking at him with eyebrows scrunched together before she gasped and her eyebrows flew up. “Oh! Oh, um, no, that’s...ugh. I’m just so used to talking around it.” She took a deep breath. “Kallik isn’t my biological son. His, uh, real mom, she saw his eyes and decided she didn’t want him. I don’t blame her for that, the situation was terrible. I was supposed to...I don’t know, I don’t really want to think about it. But I...I couldn’t just...leavehim somewhere, and I knew no one in my tribe would want anything to do with raising him after everything, so I...left, I guess. Just sorta packed up and…” She gestured around them at the hut. “Here we are.”

Here she was. A woman who’d left her home and family to raise a son that she hadn’t birthed, a son that had Fire Nation blood singing in his veins.

“That’s what moms do,” he heard his mother say, softly laughing by a pond of baby turtleducklings.

“I think of you as my own,” he heard his uncle say, his hand warm and heavy and comforting on his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “Can I think about it?” Because yes, he would actually be considering this as a life path. “Maybe take a walk or something?”

Katara bit her lip and moved to one of the chests lining the walls, opening it and rummaging around. “I would like to say yes, absolutely, but people are going to ask who you are as soon as you or I go outside. I’d rather have the story straight right from the start, whether you’re my, um, my husband or just a stranded sailor or something.”

Which made sense. So instead of standing in the sun like he wanted to, he sat next to the fire and stared into the coals. And then he thought and thought and thought.

Katara was almost giddy. He was considering it! He was considering her sort-of silly plan to teach Kallik firebending!

As she sorted through clothes, putting together a pile for the man—

Oh, wait. “I’m so sorry, but I didn’t catch your name.”

The man blinked up at her, startled. “Hm? Oh, my name.” He sighed. “Okay, I’m going to be honest with you too. Just so, you know, no misunderstandings.”

Her stomach started to sink. Was he a criminal or something? Her hand went to the lid of her waterskin, ready to pull out water to defend herself. She hardly knew this man, what had she been thinking?

“I’m running from my family. My dad, he, uh, he did...this.” He gestured to his whole left side and Katara had to swallow back bile. “But he’s been pretty clear that as long as I don’t draw attention to myself or try to mess with anything about the war, he’ll let me...you know, live. So I can’t use my real name.”

She almost asked who his father was before thinking better of it. A powerful (terribly, horribly powerful) bender, apparently connected with the war—likely a general. The “who” didn’t matter so much. Instead, she nodded. “That makes sense. Do you have a name in mind?”

The still-nameless man groaned and rubbed his face. “Maybe Li? There’s a million Li’s…”

Katara laughed. “Well, you might as well pick a name you like. Do you like ‘Li’?”

His grumpy glare very clearly said ‘no.’ He sighed and let his eyes wander around the hut, long fingers tapping on his knee. “How about...Kuzon. Yeah, that’ll work.” He met her eyes and bowed with fist held in front of him. “My name is Kuzon.”

Feeling a bit like she was playing a game, she bowed as well, hands braced against her thighs in Water Tribe fashion. “A pleasure to meet you, Kuzon.”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile before he returned to staring at the fire.

At length, after she had straightened up most of the hut and started the non-essential mending, he groaned and twisted around, cracking his neck and stretching. He was like a seal-cat stretching in the sun, she thought with a grin.

With a gusty sigh, he turned to her. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

She blinked in surprise. “You will?”

Nodding, Kuzon got to his feet. “Yeah. I didn’t really have much of a plan besides ‘get away from my psycho family’ to start with anyways, and I like kids. I wouldn’t mind helping you and Kallik out here for a while.”

Certain her grin was a bit too gleeful, she bowed in thanks. “Thank you! And once Kallik has been trained, I’ll help you get wherever you’d like to go, okay?”

He bowed as well. “Sounds like a plan.”

Leaping to her feet, she grabbed Kuzon’s hand and ran out the door. “Let’s go tell Kallik the good news!” She heard an incredulous laugh from behind her, but he ran with her.

They found him on the rocky beach by the wreckage of the ship. “Kallik!” she called, waving him over. “Kallik, I want you to meet Kuzon, he’s—”

Three figures came around the side of the wreck, other villagers. Katara felt her words catch in her throat as she saw their eyes watching with interest. Whatever she said would certainly spread like wildfire throughout their little village. And she realized, as she felt the warmth of Kuzon’s hand still in hers, that she hadn’t really thought this all through.”

“Um, he’s...he’s your f-father.”

#zutara #zutara fanfiction #my writing

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squid-rp · 3 years

Text

So... remember when I said I wanted to make playlists for my characters while stuck at work? WELL... today is the day of results, staring with Cora. See cut below for playlist and a few drabbles that are inspired but may yet change as more info about the world comes out.

TW: Language... both in the playlist and out of it. I'm not kidding when I said Cora needs a swear jar, and some of her song choices definitely uh... reflect that.

DRABBLES:

Cora might not have been a proper witch or warlock, but she knew full and well what storms were, because she saw them in people. She saw it in her mother’s eyes when her parents thought she had been asleep -- the woman’s lips turning to a snarl as she deftly dodged another bottle thrown at her head and the sloppy slur of a yell to get out. Cora knew that sometimes storms collided and one usually gave way to another. Her mother gave way to her father and fled into the night, leaving her alone with a bitter man festering in all of his losses and resentful of what he felt he deserved but could not have. Had it not been for her grandmother, Cora knew she would have felt that wrath turned on herself more severely than sour glances and whiskey touched words. Lavinia Carrington was a storm of her own. She lacked the wild snarl and harsh words that her daughter used so frequently, but her eyes were fixed and focused like the rumble of thunder on the horizon. Steven Mills could barely look up from his kingdom of half-drunken bottles to acknowledge the woman on his doorstep. He did blink lamely at the statuesque woman in his living room who deigned to stand above his recliner like some sort of fairytale queen. She wore a tailored dress, but no crown, although her fading red hair was enough to tell him exactly who she was. “Fuck you want?” Steven managed, but he knew, and although she didn’t know what exactly, Cora knew too. Later, she would ruefully recall that nobody had asked her, but why would they? She was just a slip of a thing hiding against a door frame back then -- eager for a peak of something strange but terrified of being caught. “I refuse to let my legacy nourish itself on whiskey and regrets. That child is mine and she will be great, or she will be nothing at all.” There was no room for argument.

---

Cora had always been a girl who liked to know things. Her mother was a faint shadow in her memories, but sometimes she would recall her mother telling her stories at night -- stories of little girls and the wolves that gobbled them up for their curiosity. Curiosity, her grandmother said, was a useful tool. Curiosity was usually the first step towards folly and the lesson of hurting, which would give away to the much more useful trait of ambition. Cora no longer spent nights being lulled to sleep by scary stories of wolves gobbling up girls. Those weren’t useful tales anymore, especially since nobody was coming to save her. Cora hadn’t exactly shaken curiosity, but she tempered it with caution, and her only ambition was to stay one step ahead of her grandmother -- to learn to be more powerful if only to save herself and others who might be in the bitter hag’s way. But the lesson of hurting had turned to a lesson of haunting, and the most haunting thing Cora learned was that she would never stop looking over her shoulder, even in the crowds of New York.

---

If there was one thing Cora learned since running away, it was that she was always going to be underestimated by people who didn’t know what the hell she was. That was fine on most days. It was easier to traipse around on the sly and have a semblance of a life if people just saw her at face value: small, petite, porcelain skin, a light dusting of freckles, doll eyes, clothes that barely fit. A fragile thing with such a foul mouth. And sometimes it was that mouth that got her into trouble, and the invitation to “fuck around and find out” resulted in a right hook that was far meaner than it had any right to be. Sometimes meanness wasn’t enough, though. There were times Cora limped along home, ribs aching, teeth stained with blood and eyes bruised purple, but she’d be damned if she saw something that bothered her without speaking up. She didn’t run away to hold anything in anymore.

---

It didn’t matter how well she hid: eventually one of her grandmother’s followers would find her. It didn’t matter if she washed her hair out so that it lost its coppery sheen or crafted an identity that was the greatest great or the lowest of the low. Someone always found her, and how could they not? She was an unbound Ephemeral, and a grasping threat to boot, even if she claimed to just want to live. She ran first. Cora ran from jobs. She left homes with nothing but the clothes on her back. She lost her pursuers in subway trains or by dodging into an Uber and -- once -- jumping off a bridge into a freezing river that had her shivering for what felt like weeks. She finally dug her heels in and fought back in Arizona, and when her pursuer was flat on his back in the sand, Cora stood over him while a dust devil raged through the desert. She thought of her grandmother. She thought of those sharp blue eyes, the steel in the woman’s demeanor, and everything she had taken and would continue to take. It would have been easy to kill the man in the dirt. It would have been easy to kill him and leave him to rot in the desert for the coyotes to pick his bones clean. It would have sent a clear message, and it would have been a warning for those who would come after. But it would have been something she would have done, and more than anything, Cora did not want to be her. So she knocked the man out and left him in the desert to make his way to safety once he woke up. By then, she’d be on the way to elsewhere to try and make her way on her own terms. Despite how she had been raised, and despite all of her grooming, Cora was not her, and she never would be. Not if she had anything to say about it.

---

It could not be said that Cora was skilled in Origami as she only knew how to make one shape. She tried to learn others over the years -- the owl, the fan, the boat, the flower -- but her fingers fell into the familiar habits of the crane as if she were being guided along on a string right on back to home. Cora had so few memories of her mother. She had no pictures -- they had been burned at her grandmother’s behest -- and no mementos or trinkets to remind her of the woman who had given her life and then had abandoned her. She remembered stories told in the dark, but the years had distorted the voice that told them. The memories of a face -- the cut of a nose, and the curl of a lip -- had blurred to a void that could have been everything and nothing all at once. What Cora couldn’t forget was muscle memory, and her fingers gracefully folded smooth paper to form a head and wings until another colorful paper crane joined the small army threatening to burst out of her shoebox apartment. “One thousand gets a wish,” the woman murmured as she set the newest crane atop the bundle of blankets that comprised her bed and looked out the window towards the looming city and all its lights. She doubted she would ever get what she wanted. After all, other people wanted, and when it came to her, they only wanted what she could do and who she could be. They never really wanted her for her. It didn’t stop her from reaching for another sheaf of paper and trying again.

TLDR: Pretty sure Cora's grandma (who in my head is super old and reeks of sandalwood and dismissiveness) is the head of a Gramarye coven elsewhere. Cora was meant to take up the mantle or... something else more nefarious but yeeted instead and is hiding out in New York until she can figure out wtf to do. AGAIN, this could change depending on revealed site lore and also the fact that I might see another bright and shiny idea and go crow.

#cora mills #bmtrp #baremyteethrp #not tagging the dev tag because I already have two and I don't wanna clog the tag #Spotify

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schrijverr · 4 years

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Not an old man

The day has come, after nearly a week of having no life I have finished The Magnus Archives!

This is about the fact that Jon looks like an old man, despite being pretty young. In this fic he is the youngest and the others find out after Tim ribs him a bit too much about being an old man, with light chronic pain thrown in.

Takes place in season 1

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: Light chronic pain

~~~~~~~~~~

Jon knew he looked old. His hair was greying prematurely, the stress had etched itself into his face and he dressed like he was eighty and wore glasses with retainers. So yeah, he looked old and he knew. Still that didn’t stop him from being 31 when he got the job as Archivist.

In the hope of not making people uncomfortable with his promotion at that age and because he didn’t think it any of his assistants would believe him, he kept quiet about being the youngest there. He also thought they wouldn’t appreciate that their boss was younger than them.

Tim was after him the youngest and used that fact to get out of doing tasks he didn’t want to. Jon kept telling him that age didn’t matter and that he had to do his job. Tom only replied that an old man such as himself wouldn’t get it and Jon grit his teeth as he told Tim to go back to work and just do the tasks he was assigned.

It didn’t help that his joints had a habit of rioting against him as well whenever he had sat still for too long. His knees would crack when he got out of a chair and his back and shoulders made horrible sounds when he stretched.

Today wasn’t good a good day. He was sore all over, because he had fallen asleep at his desk and the stress about what Martin had told him was weighing him down.

He looked terrible.

Tim hadn’t taken long to notice, grinning at him the moment he’d walked in. Jon wanted to ignore him, like he always did, but as stated before: today wasn’t a good day.

He had nothing to record, so he was in the main room almost constantly, working alongside his assistants in the archive. They were hauling boxes to sort through and Jon was struggling with one box while Martin and Tim both could carry two at a time.

Finally, it all came to a head when Jon had gracelessly put down one of the boxes and his elbows cracked in the process. He rubbed at it absentmindedly until Tim said: “I hear your joints are finally giving out, old man.”

It wasn’t even the worst Tim had ever said to him, but it snapped something in him. His joints always hurt faintly in the background and it sucked that there was nothing he could do about it. He had kept him mouth shut to make the other less uncomfortable, but he was done with it, just absolutely done. So he sniped back: “Thank you, Tim, for reminding me just how much my body is failing. I’ll have you know that it isn’t fun and you can shove your old man jokes up your ass, because I’m younger than you, you twat.”

Then he turned around and stormed off, needing just a bit of room to breathe. So he did what he found logical and locked himself into his office.

Tim blanked completely, only coming back online with the slamming of the door. He turned to an equally shocked Martin and Sasha and asked: “Did you hear what I just heard or was I delusional?”

“No, no.” Sasha said, “He told you to shove it up your ass and called you a twat. Jon ‘stuck-up’ Sims can swear.”

“Yeah that too,” Tim replied, “but that’s not what I’m talking about. He said he was younger than me, old geezer Jon. He can’t be younger than me, can he?”

“He told you to stop it with the insult about his age, Tim.” Martin said.

“You believe him?” Tim exclaimed.

Martin shrugged: “He doesn’t really have a reason to lie.”

“That’s fair.” Sasha agreed.

“Yes, he does.” Tim frowned, “He wanted me to stop, because he’s insecure about it, so he lied.”

“That sounds ridiculous.” Sasha told him.

“And beside that,” Martin said, “he sounded like it hurt that everything cracked, what did he say again? Uhm: ‘his body failing him.’ That doesn’t really sound fun, so even if he’s lying about his age, maybe you should stop if you’re making fun of something that’s hurting.”

While the three were arguing outside, Jon had collapsed onto the floor in his office and leaned against the door. He was curled into himself while he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as he tried not to cry. It was stupid, he told himself, it was stupid and now he had ruined the only sort of non-professional interaction he had. The thought didn’t stop countless of fruitless doctor visit to bubble up in front of his eyes and he pushed them away along with the tears that threatened to leak. It wasn’t even that bad, others had it much worse, he couldn’t complain. But still, it wasn’t fun and as much as he knew he looked old and didn’t mind the comments about his older appearance, the shitty jokes at the expense of his joints stung slightly.

He almost missed the faint knock on his door, but when it came again a bit harder he couldn’t ignore it. He bit out a harsh: “What?”

He could hear Tims sheepish voice through the door: “Uhm, I wanted to say sorry, boss. I should’ve known when to stop.”

Tim had realized how mean his remarks could sound, after Martins comment, so he had sucked it up and went to apologize. He was slightly concerned when Jons voice came from far lower than should be right, but decided not to mention it. Even when he heard a small voice ask: “Do you mean it?”

He nodded then realized Jon couldn't see him, so he said: “I mean it, Jon. Hurting isn’t funny, even if it was meant as a jab about your age and I should’ve known that. I took it too far.”

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door until it swung open to reveal Jon. His hair was a bit disheveled and his eyes were wet, although it didn’t look like he had actually cried. He looked vulnerable, despite his best efforts to hide it with a stern expression. He gruffly said: “Glad you learned that, although I might have overreacted slightly.”

His gruffness and emotional detachment didn’t really sound convincing with the state he was in. Tim rolled his eyes and pulled Jon into a side hug. He ruffled his hair and said: “You reacted just fine, boss. So, how old are you then, eh?”

Jon was starting to regret ever mentioning his age, but he silently handed Tim his wallet so that he drivers license. Tim squinted at the year as he tried to do the math. He began: “So that means you’re, uh…”

“31, yes.” Jon filled in.

Tim whistled: “Wow, I was way off, I had you up the forties.”

Jon had wrestled himself free from Tims grip and said: “I know, I don’t look it, don’t feel it too most of the time. I didn’t want to mention it, because most people find it difficult when their boss is younger than them.”

“Ahw, you can be human.” Tim cooed.

“Don’t let it get to your head or something.” Jon groused, but then he added carefully: “It’s not going to be a problem, is it?”

Tim shook his head and said: “No, I’ve got way more experience with picking on someone younger than me, don’t worry, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.” He blinked away the image of his brother and smiled at Jon.

Jon tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but smile back. Then Tim looked back at the wallet and saw that there was a picture of Jon and his grandmother in it, so he did the only logical older-brother thing and called out to the others: “Who wants to see a picture of baby Jon!”

“No, give it back.” Jon yelled as he tried to lunge for it, but Tim was too fast and he was already showing Sasha and Martin. He made sure to hold it just out of Jons reach, something that was easy because of Jons short stature.

Jon grumbled about it for weeks later, but in the end it was nice. The others treated him more like they did the one another now that they knew he had grown up in the same years and they tried to be considerate when they saw him wincing when he moved.

#RR writing #TMA #MAG #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #jon sims #jonathan sims #tim stoker #martin blackwood #sasha james #mag season 1 #s1 MAG #jon looks old #but he isn't #chronic pain #light chronic pain

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returnsandreturns · 3 years

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i’m going through all of my google drive accounts and i’ve tried to write a novel with versions of these two ladies four times but i’ve never had a plot, just feelings about them and a general mood

there’s magic going on somewhere in there but i never write fantasy so who knowssssss

---

“I’m going to do it this time,” Casey says, standing underneath the big elm tree that lives outside of Em’s house. She does a few elaborate stretches, nothing they’ve learned in gym class, kind of like what Em’s mom does in front of the TV--cardioaerobics or something.

Em’s sitting on the little stretch of roof outside her window, her knees curled up to her chest.

“You’re going to break a limb,” she says, matter-of-factly. It wouldn’t be the first limb broken in Casey’s relentless pursuit of glory, whether it was the pinky sacrificed in an arm wrestling match or the leg broken in two places trying to climb out her window last year to go running in the woods. That’s Casey. Her inherent clumsiness and shameless athleticism go hand in hand.

Casey’s putting her hair up in a high ponytail now before she positions her hands on her hips, Wonder Woman style.

“Tree limb,” she asks, “or--you know--me limb?”

“You limb,” Em replies, laughing. “Should I go ahead and call the ambulance now so they’re ready for you?”

“You used to believe in me,” Casey says, pointing up at her accusingly. “Puberty is ruining you.”

Just the word puberty sends chills up Em’s spine. Her mom avoided giving her the talk until the last possible moment, a really horrible moment where Em tried to sneak a blood-stained pair of underwear into their laundry and her mother caught her and basically dragged her into the living room to teach her about being a woman.

It’s been two years and Em still hasn’t recovered from hearing her mom use the words pubic hair. She grabs a gummy worm from the bag beside her and tosses it at Casey, missing her by several feet.

“Weak,” Casey says, not even turning her head, chin tilted up and squinting at the tree through the sun. She does a couple of lunges, some weird wobbly arm movements, and then she takes a breath so deep that Em can practically feel it even from so high up and heads for the tree at a sprint.

Em holds her breath, doesn’t take her eyes off the surprisingly elegant arc of Casey’s body in a too-big t-shirt and leggings as Casey’s scuffed Keds skid for a half a second in the grass before she leaves the ground. It’s a good jump, a strong start--Casey throws her arms up immediately to grab the closest branch and actually manages to catch it, which is further than she’s gotten since her primary goal in life became Climb Em’s Ancient Tree Guardian.

It’s just an Elm tree. Em might have been convinced when she was a kid that a little bit of her grandmother’s soul was inside of it and might have told Casey that once when they were younger. Their sleepover talk tended to veer in the direction of I thought for awhile that my grandmother didn’t so much die as she became one with the giant tree in our front yard conversations, rather than the things that girls in movies talk about. She thinks this might be true of lots of girls, but she can’t say for sure.

Casey had nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the world and refused to enter Em’s house without first greeting her grandmother from that point on, originally with reverence, eventually with hugs. This morning, she had thrown her arms around the trunk and said, voice slipping into something a little more sweet and Southern than usual, “Granny, you’re gonna accept me into your arms today.”

Casey swings from the branch and her feet scramble against the bark to try to force herself up before she says, “Shit damn,” in one breath and her hands slip.

Heat flares up underneath Em’s skin. For a second, everything dims except the shine of the sun against Casey’s hair, braids piled up on top of her head. She might not actually hurt herself if she falls, but it doesn’t matter. The world shifts inside Em’s head. Two seconds pass and Casey lands gently on her knees in the grass.

“Why does she hate me?” Casey asks, sighing dramatically and throwing herself onto her back, not noticing a thing. “Doesn’t she know I’m family?”

Em draws in a shaky breath before she smiles, throws down another gummy worm that lands on Casey’s bare stomach where her shirt has ridden up. Casey laughs and eats it immediately.

“She’s a tree,” Em says. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“Don’t talk about your grandmother like that,” Casey says, still laughing. She groans like the weight of the world is on her fourteen-year-old bones as she pushes herself to her feet, pointing a finger at Em. “Don’t move, I’m coming up.”

“Yes’m,” Em murmurs, leaning back against the wall, her feet dangling over the edge. This is as dangerous as she gets: sitting.

She can hear the front door open and shut, hear Casey yell, “It’s just me, Ms. Adams,” and Em’s mom yell something back--Casey’s footsteps diverted at the sound. She’s probably going to get some concerned noises about grass stains and the scrapes on her hands where they slid and lost their grip. Em takes deep, deep breaths until her heart finally calms down and Casey’s hands hit the half-closed window, making Em start.

“Jesus,” she murmurs.

“Nope, just me,” Casey says, shoving the window open and crawling through it, immediately dropping down to sit next to Em, their arms pressing together. Casey’s skin is sun warm and soft, the sleeves of her t-shirt rolled up and held with safety pins.

“You okay?” Em asks, turning sideways to eye her up and down. Casey wipes her hands off on her knees before presenting them obligingly, showing faint scrapes on her palms, skin a little swollen.

Em takes one of them and hates the blush that threatens to rise in her cheeks at the touch, dropping it immediately and turning her head back to the house across the street. She’s been blushing a lot lately. With all the things she can control when her heart’s geared in the right direction, she can never stop the blush.

“You could just get a ladder,” Em says, and Casey tips her head back and laughs and laughs, a little hoarse. Casey’s voice is always just a little hoarse. Em says it’s because she talks too much.

Casey says it’s because she’s got a lot to say, refuses to accept that it’s the same thing.

“I’m going to get up in that tree,” she says, a grand declaration, her arms that isn’t shoved up against Em’s arm shooting into the air, “before we’re in high school.”

It’s July. July 6th, to be exact. Em knows this without looking to check because it’s been two days since the Fourth of July and people are still setting off fireworks, like they bought too many, like they’re just not done celebrating.

“That’s not an awful lot of time,” Em says. They left middle school behind in the hazy past, one more summer until they became something entirely new. That was the plan, anyway. The last three years have produced a long and varied list of Things We’ll Do Before We’re In High School, and they haven’t exactly done--most of them. Any of them, really.

“We’ve also gotta get kissed,” Casey says, making a face that Em can see out of the corner of her eye. She turns her head just enough to make the same face back at her. Kissing was on the list, an unfortunate necessity that they both agreed had to be faced head-on. If gossip was to be believed, and they weren’t exactly in a position to question their only source of news, every other girl in their classes has found an appropriate boy-shaped human to touch mouths with by this point.

“You could just kiss the tree,” Em says, and Casey snorts on a laugh, insinuating an arm around Em’s shoulder so they’re tucked together.

“She’s too old for me,” Casey says. “I’ll just have to pick someone and go for it.”

“Romantic,” Em says.

“Kissing isn’t romantic, anyway,” Casey says. “It’s just. Wet.”

“How do you know?” Em asks, smiling sideways at her.

“It’s basic science,” Casey says. “Lips. Tongues.”

She sticks hers out at Em, and Em copies her before she turns away again, hiding her face in her knees because, yeah, there’s the blush. It’s always right under the surface, ready to come out and ruin her whole life.

“Tongues,” she repeats, muffled.

“I don’t understand it, either,” Casey says, airily, “but, yeah, tongues.”

Casey’s arm tightens around her, her head tipping to rest against Em’s after Em sits up again. The sun is hot on their heads, and Casey’s skin is warm against hers where they touch, arms and ankles and temples.

“Kissing,” she says. “Safely consume alcohol without getting caught.”

“That’ll be easy,” Em says. Her mom’s got a liquor cabinet--well, it wasn’t made with that intended purpose, but there’s a cabinet in their kitchen that’s close enough--and Casey’s parents are so distracted with her new baby brother that they could do shots in the middle of their living room and they wouldn’t even notice.

“I want to get in a fist fight,” Casey continues, “but I know how you feel about that.”

“You weigh ten pounds and you will die,” Em says, nodding. Casey laughs.

“So, no fist fighting,” she says. “Unless it comes up naturally.”

“No fist fighting at all.”

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dredreadsdrawing · 4 years

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Oc-Tober Day 16: Palette

my tablet annoys me but i continue to draw with it :,o oof.

I used this Palette day for my other beloved DnD oc. Reir the bastard half-elf rogue from a prestigious elf-mafia lolol. Thank goodness I had already wrote her backstory in a word dock like, in February XD Augh writing one bigass story is enough for today. Here it is:

Reir is a half-elf. She was born from the daughter of the biggest elf-run criminal organization, and a poor young farmer. Whilst on the run, her mother was injured and almost died, but Reir’s father found and saved her. They fell in love while she recovered, but she was picked up quickly by her brother and taken back to their city base.

She missed the farm and countryside, so she’d sneak to visit her love secretly for years. When her father and brother found out, they freaked. A lowly, much younger human was no worthy life-companion for their rose. After losing Reir’s grandmother, they became incredibly overprotective of her because of her, and this situation was no exception. They put her under house-arrest and threatened the farmer with violence.

After years of tolerating their suffocating doting, she couldn’t handle any more. She broke out and ran to him. He agreed to running away with her, to start over somewhere else. Things were going well along their travels, until they hit an impasse and were ambushed. Her love was killed in front of her eyes. She was taken back to be a bird in their cage, her will to fight now extinguished.

A month later, her pregnancy was diagnosed. Her brother was the only one to find out along with her, and before he could report it to his father, she pleaded to keep it a secret. She wanted to keep the child; she had a new reason to live. He gave in and helped her hide it from their father, unknowingly assisting her in her last attempt to escape as well.

She ran away again, planning to get her child away from their overbearing crime life, but she had waited for too long to put her plan into play. She started giving birth mid-way into her travel, stuck somewhere alone with no help for miles. By the time her family found her, her brother forced to tell his father the secret, she was dead, her child wrapped around her arms and kicking fussily.

Her father was in despair. He punished her brother severely, blaming him for her death, while also dropping the baby to be his responsibility. He refused her legitimacy. He had plans to expand their territory and claims, but died soon after the incident, rumors floating that he took his life from the grief. Now the brother was alone as the head of the family, stuck with a baby without a family name.

He planned to abandon her to an orphanage, thought there was no place for a child in his life. But her likeness to her mother outweighed her likeness to her father, and he couldn’t go through. He ended up dumping her to two of his subordinates; a half-orc and another half-elf. She was to live in seclusion at the top floor of their base.

He was an absent father figure to her. He’d visit rarely and briefly just to overlook her education. He saw the job of raising her as a lower priority, put his duties as the leader of the organization above all else. To quiet her every time she acted out of line, he would punish her the same way his father would his sister; he’d lock her in a quiet, dark room. Instead of taking the punishment meekly and learning to be good, she took it as a challenge and rebelled from everything he threw at her.

She grew picking up the worst habits. If she wanted something, she’d no longer ask for it. Stealing was easier and more fun. If she wanted to know what others were doing, she’d simply follow them; she trained herself to be quiet and stealthy. Because she was constantly thrown into the room, she learned to hide things in her clothing and body, to pick locks, to adjust to the darkness quickly and to climb from ledges half an inch thick. As a child, she was a nuisance. As a teenager, she was a menace. As a newly fledged adult, she was an outright criminal working outside of her uncle’s interests and solely for her own.

When she became of age, she thought he would finally induct her into the gang, but that day never came. He assured her she would never be a part of them and gave her a list of reasons why. She took it ‘in slide’; if he didn’t want her, it was his loss. She went crazy with her crimes, never thinking of the consequences, or of the mess she’d leave behind. She could always run back to the comfort of the organization’s name even when she wasn’t a part of it.

She was giving their business a bad reputation. If he couldn’t control his own brat, how could he keep his subordinates in check? Contacts began pulling back, the city law enforcement was asking for bigger bribes, everything was going to shit. Her uncle was done covering for her, and he gave her a final threat. He told her no more tricks, no more stunts, no more getting out of the house. She would be a good girl, or she would be disowned completely. He wasn’t playing around. She nodded along, but rationalized his anger as stemming from her debt. So she just needed to pay everything back huh? As soon as he left, she planned her biggest scam.

She stole millions from the mayor, not knowing he was already under the gang’s thumb. She stored the money in the organization’s vault, and proudly paraded her deed. She was called to her uncle’s office, and she prepared herself for her induction. She dressed in her finest, prepared a beaming smile. She opened the door, going into a speech about how it was finally time for her to make her grand entrance, but one look at her uncle’s face shut her up. She smiled awkwardly, trying to get a rise out of him. What, no hug? A high five? Her uncle raised his hand. Excited, she made to move towards him, but was immediately knocked out by henchmen behind her.

Without a word of farewell, she was shipped far away, dumped across the world with a two day stay at an inn, a dagger, and a bag of coins. She woke up confused and without even a note of explanation. She was alone, and cut off.

Extra info:

The half-orc and half-elf truly love her and treat her like their daughter. Her difficult relationship with her uncle was the root of her bad behaviorism though, and they felt powerless as they watched her fall into more and more hopeless tries for his attention. When she was shipped, they were heartbroken. They were never told of her final threat or how it happened, they were simply fired from their job as ‘nannies’, and reinstated in grunt work. They hold a grudge against her uncle and fully plan on escaping the organization to look for her.

To further explain her bad behavior from her uncle’s perspective: Her mother was a model-obedient girl type. She was an angel who always did what she was told (until she fell in love.) She had been kind, patient, and loving; the perfect sister and the perfect woman in her uncle’s eyes. Her daughter though, was the worst. She was a brat, rebellious, selfish, overconfident, and had zero regard for others.

Her nannies could see where all of these negative properties stemmed from as she grew. She became rebellious as a form of getting his attention, she’s self-centered because she was never taught to work in a team and never even had any friends, and she’s overconfident because she’s learned a lot from what she considers the best criminals. However, her uncle never spent much time with her at all. He never truly got to know her, and never had one on one conversations with her about herself. He was only ever around long enough to see the bad, never stuck around to figure out the good.

She was extremely caring towards her two father figures, the half-orc and half-elf. She’s clever and an extremely quick-learner; gifted in everything she put her mind to. She was determined to the point of being naïve; she always believed even when she pretended she didn’t need it, that her uncle would open up and accept her one day if she did a job big enough. She’s also super optimistic. She never lets anyone or anything bring her down, and has never let herself get depressed. She’s smart enough to get through anything; her overconfidence always shone through.

I’m uh, making some quick stuff for oc-tober lol. im sooooooooo behind :,o but i managed to get semi-caught up..... tomorrow ill have to do today’s theme lol Im jsut abit too depressed today :(

#oc #oc-tober #dnd #dnd rogue #dnd oc #dnd half elf #half elf #reir #digital art #digital sketches #elf #elves #half elves

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harveywritings92 · 4 years

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Modern AU:40yr old! Jacob x Accidental Wife! Reader PT. 1

Jacob is the founder and CEO to Rook security Inc. He finds out his fiancee has cheated on him and ran off with the guy, while Y/n's just been ditched at the alter by her fiancee who ran off with her best friend. She ends up at the same bar wallowing in their sorrow, they noticed each other sitting alone and started talking and drinking lots and lots of drinking till they blackout! the next morning the two wake up in a hotel room still clothed thankfully but married?! apparently in their drunken stupor they somehow found their way to a five minute wedding chapel, and thought what the hell? she's already in a dress and got rings! let's go for it! instead of annulling the marriage the two decided to give it a chance and get to know each other.

Also note: Jacob is about 38 at the beginning of the story and reader is 26. so like a 12 year age difference between them.

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24 hrs After being ditched by their receptive partners

Y/n had already moved in with Jacob mainly because the day after their... unorthodox union, Jacob went to drop her off at her home only to find, her ex-fiancee had Ex-BF move in and changed the locks and thrown her stuff on the curb, the y/hc woman didn't know what to do! she knows her parents were out of the question, they'd just mock and belittle Y/n for being a failure and not "perfect" like her older siblings...and her siblings were also out! they had their kids and wouldn't be able to put her up for couple weeks until she found an apartment!..

So, Y/n was lost! maybe her boss can let her sleep in the office? Next thing she knew Jacob was picking through her stuff, Asking her what was hers and what was a gift from her ex and former friend and tossing them, he helped load them on to his truck, and telling her to get in after a silent car ride.

He brought her to a very expensive apartment complex brought her to his apartment he showed her around the place of course she was still in daze about everything she was hardly listening, He showed her where her room was his ex's yoga studio...of course she was using it for more then just yoga, as he found out! He told her they can go find her a bed and furniture tomorrow, so for now just use his room or sleep on the couch he's not using either right now...

"Now if you'll excuse me dear, I've got to go make a few calls." and with that her new husband was already gone before she could even ask him important shit...like if she wants to go out, how's she supposed to get back in?! instead she just opted to get change out of this damn dress! luckily the little clasp at the back broke and Y/n managed to unzip it half-way wiggled out of it.

She checked through her things, luckily they didn't do anything to her clothes... the sound of the door opening caused Y/n to freeze as Jacob's voice filled her ears.

"Oh, I forgot the code for the...door..." His words died off when he saw Y/n in nothing but black panties the two awkwardly stared at each other before the y/hc woman hugged a t-shirt to her chest and snapped at him to get out! the British man's face turned red and he stuttered out an apology before slamming the door. a few seconds later as Y/n was pulling pajama pants on she saw a piece of paper slide under the door she picked it up.

[front door guest code:8464, Apt. door guest code: 10634, temporary until you get a key. -J.F.] Y/n bit her lip and cautiously peeked outside to see if it was safe? and sighed Mr. Frye was gone, barely two minutes in and he's already seen her naked... How embarrassing. the y/wt woman surveyed the apartment and was appalled at the mess laying around! clothes, rancid take-out, dirty dishes, shopping bags! just left laying on the floor collecting god knows what for how long?!

Y/n got to work looking around the apartment for cleaning supplies, She was stunned find them brand new and never opened, "Jesus.." she said in disbelief then looked up a photo of Jacob with a model looking bottle blond, smiling like she'd won the lottery. "tsk, ever heard of a mop, or cleaning service..." She hissed at the woman's face while resisting the urge to print out the 'Damn bitch u live like this? ' meme, and tape it to Jacob's door of course he was an older guy... so, there's a possibility that he wouldn't know what it meant and would take it as an insult...Then a thought occurred to the y/nat as she stopped sweeping her head slowly turned towards Jacob's bedroom with morbid curiosity she thought *...if this is what his living room is like, then what does the bedroom?*

She leaned the broom against the kitchen isle and nervously made her way to Mr. Frye's door she swallowed and opened the door and peeked inside the color drained from her face as she slammed it shut. "Good lord! It's like The Day After in there!" she wheezed in horror not understanding how the hell Jacob could sleep in that filth, let alone his ex! she had to have said something about it!

Unless... She was the one who made the apartment like this? that honestly wouldn't surprise the y/wt woman her grandmother used to say 'Sometimes pretty faces hide messy habits.' guess she really hit on the nail on that one... Now that Y/n had some time to herself she recalled how filthy [ExBF]'s apartment always was, it got to the point were her landlord threatened eviction if she didn't clean it!

Y/n sighed recalling the fit [ExBF] threw while calling asking her to help her...By Help she meant ""Y/n do it for me while I sit on my ass a text my four boyfriends all fricken day and not say thank you!"" The y/ht blew some hair out of her face as she finished packing garbage bags. "Why the hell was I ever friends with that bitch?" She pondered out loud then thought back to when they were kids.

[ExBF] always got what she wanted! if she got new dress she'd show off and brag, if someone got a dress nicer then hers? she'd throw a tantrum and call that person out for ""stealing her spotlight!"", one of their other friends liked a boy? Nope, not anymore he was [ExBF]'s now, Oh, wait he's not rich or spineless? better drop his ass... It made Y/n feel sick at how she used to make excuses for that girl's behavior!

She also should've seen the way [ExBF]'s face soured when she announced her marriage and introduced her ex-Fiancee to her. Y/n should have seen it coming, but she was so infatuated with [Ex/n] that she was blind to the signs that he was a just a scummy as ExBF, Y/n wanted to lived in a small apartment and save up Y'know? Nope he demanded a house!

Then he get's laid off at work and says he's looking for a job, meanwhile Y/n is working three jobs to pay the bills and all she ask is for him take out the trash or maybe order some dinner for when she gets home? Nope, he sits on his ass playing video-games all day, then whines to her that the house stinks and he's hungry! She noticed ExBF had been coming around a lot during that time but Y/n just figured her friend was looking for her or something.

Y/n stomach churned in vexation she hoped they were both miserable together, they deserve each other... she snorted as she straightened out some mail that was tossed under an end table, onto the counter in a neat stack, then check around for a trash chute a fancy place has to have a trash chute, She saw the instruction on the back of the apartment door...

The end off the hall, She grabbed the bags and was about to leave when she remember the door codes and found them sitting on the floor in her room she tucked it in the waist band of her pj's and took the trash out she found the chutes tossed the bags in and headed back to Jacobs apartment and was about to punch the code when she heard someone clear their throat behind her.

Y/n looked over her shoulder to see a security guard standing behind her. "Urm... Yes?" the y/ht woman squeaked unsure if she was in trouble. "Ma'am would you come with me a moment?" she winced Yes... she was definitely in trouble! and there she was sitting in security office.

"Look I already told you, he let me in I didn't steal anything, I was just cleaning!?" Y/n huffed as the guard rolled his eyes at her obviously not believing her. Before repeating what was really in those bags what had she stolen from Mr. Frye? causing Y/n to growl in frustration "I don't don't know how much will moldy take-out and empty beer cans fetch me?" she snarked this upset the guard who threatened to call the cops, but a British voice cut him off.

"That won't be necessary..." The guard jumped from his seat to see Jacob Frye standing there none to pleased to see his new roommate in handcuffs. "Oh, Mr. Frye! Sir we got a call of a disturbance, I caught her breaking in." the guard said sounding almost proud of himself as the hazel eyed man glared at him. "She's not a thief, she's my wife." Jacob stated the guard looked at him bemused. "W-what? but-" it was obvious he'd seen Jacob's ex before and Y/n looked nothing like her.

"But nothing, uncuff her now..." the guard swallowed nervous the intimidating man's tone and complied Y/n sighed flexing her arms trying to get some feeling back in them as she got up and joined, Jacob who scrutinized her arms and frowned seeing the red marks on her wrists, he shot the guard a sharp look before escorting Y/n to the elevator. "What were you doing out of my apartment this late?" the British man ask keeping his eyes on the elevator doors.

"Erm, taking out the trash?" the y/nat woman squeaked unsure if he was going to be mad that she cleaned his home without permission, Jacob cocked a brow at her inquisitively as the y/ht rambled that she didn't really have much to do, so she figured why not? as they approached his door Jacob's hazel eyes widen to see how nice a neat apartment was, he could see the floors again...

He’d forgotten they were a dark cherry hardwood the green Persian rug his brother in law had sent him was also was also vacuumed, he looked on the counter and saw stack of mail and carefully sift through it, all credit-card bills and invoices, all passed due! he let out an annoyed sighed as Y/n shifted unnerved and awkwardly spoke up.

"I wasn't sure if I should toss those, sorry."

"No, it's fine..these pretty much tell me what Karin was up to while I was working..."

"Um, if you want I could...the photos."

"Get rid of them? Go right ahead, It seems fair I did same for you."

"Right..." Y/n said getting to it while Jacob looked through every letter before finding something that interested him, he disappeared in his room for the next hour as Y/n finished cleaning the rest of his apartment, she heard Jacob's barely audible voice coming from behind the door.

Most likely on his phone if Y/n had to guess 'Karin' may have opened a secret nest egg account using Mr. Frye's name he must've just found it, That's probably what he's been doing all day calling banks and credit card companies to cancel cards and accounts she may have opened in his name without his knowledge...

Y/n pause as she picked up laundry and and scrutinized the labels; Fuck these things cost more then her house's rent! She almost felt like fainting as she tossed it in a hamper, and thought about what was going on with her surprise husband's situation. If her brief stint in law school was worth its salt, Then Jacob's ex could face some federal charges and prison time for that! It's basically ID fraud and embezzling.

She saw the light go off in his room he must gone to sleep? or just wanted to be alone with his thoughts lips formed a thin line as she looked over a the grand father clock at the other end of the living room, Was it seriously 3 A.M.?! the y/nat was surprised so much time had passed she felt like she just got here!

After some thought she decided it was time for her to turn in as well, She'll just have to figure out what to do with herself in the morning...

She found her sleeping bag in one of the trash bags and laid it out on the couch and settled down for bed, strange when Y/n was closing her eyes she thought she saw a hooded figure disappear behind the clock...

[the Building Jacob lives in was built by the Assassins so there are a lot of secret exits and entrances scattered all around the premises.]

#assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed syndicate #40yr old! Jacob Frye #jacob frye x reader #watch_Dogs #CrossOver #Hacker! Reader

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jaywritings · 3 years

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The Magical Talisman

~ Translation of Lila Majumder's Bengali short story 'Shorboneshe Maduli'

When school reopened after the summer vacation, we were all flabbergasted to see Gupe, our friend, come to school with a talisman tied to his right arm. It was tied a little over the elbow, the shining spotless talisman, with the help of a dirty red thread. At first I thought it was made of gold, it was so shiny, but later Gupe informed me that it was made of lead. It had turned all shiny due to sweat, he said.

During lunch break I asked him, “What is it for, Gupe?”. In reply he told the most absurd story ever.

Apparently, when his grandfather was his age, one morning he woke up and found a bright, shining, pure black feather of a crow under his pillow. At first, he was tremendously happy. He felt that it will be great to make a quill out of the crow feather and write long letters to his friends. Then he got frightened. What a calamity! You should never touch a crow, it eats all sorts of rubbish, how did its feather turn up under his pillow? Before anybody saw anything he threw it away through the window.

But of all things that could have happened, again tomorrow morning he woke up and found a crow’s feather under his pillow. Now there is no suspicion at all, there’s even an obvious dirty crow-crow smell.

From then afterwards, Gupe’s grandfather became a pure vegetarian, shaved off his hair, returned the neighbour’s tree-shaving scissors after six whole months, and bathed in the Ganges.

After he finished his bath, he got out and noticed a sage standing at the bank of the river, smiling at him. He was clad in orange robes from head to toe, with a religious mark in his forehead and a great black knot on his head. Gupe’s grandfather bowed towards him. Immediately, the sage tied a talisman with the help of a red thread around the part over Gupe’s grandfather’s right elbow. Then he stroked his shoulder fondly, saying kindly, “From now onwards, you no longer have anything to be afraid of, my son. All the beasts and thieves will pass aside.”

The stroking was rather tickling Gupe’s grandfather, but he ignored it and said doubtfully, “Are you quite sure, sir?”

The sage became somewhat startled by the tone of Gupe’s grandfather’s voice. He brought out a thread-tied glasses from his bag, wore it, and peered at Gupe’s grandfather. He jumped with shock.

“Aeee, what is this! Who are you?! I thought you were Poltu Zamindar! It was him I had to give the talisman to! Give it back, son, it’s not for you.”

But who listens. Who will lose this lifetime opportunity? Has anyone ever given Gupe’s grandfather something this special? He lifted his dhoti and ran away as fast as he could.

When he came home he looked in surprise at the mango tree in the neighbourhood; the tree whose ripe mangoes all with their branches had reached completely over their house’s terrace. Since it was their neighbour, Nepal, who had planted that tree, they hadn’t had the courage to pluck out the fruits from the branches, even though it was tantalizingly in reach. But now all the mangoes had strewn themselves across the floor of the terrace. It was also noticed that since dawn, cold fresh water was coming from the new well. The net which Felada had submerged in the pond at night was granted with a huge fish. One of Gupe’s grandfather’s friends had borrowed five rupees from him last year, today he returned it. Over that, there was a feast thrown in Sunday afternoon. Everybody’s smiling in the house, even his grim grandmother.

Grandfather was astounded at the power of the talisman. He silently payed his respects towards the sage a thousand times over.

From then onwards, the house started having all the good luck in the world. There was money, there was a huge amount of cattle, the boys got big important jobs, the girls were married off to important, rich, respectful families. Once Gupe was telling this story of all these magical turn of events at his uncle’s house, and getting all excited while narrating, he ended up tearing six pages of the twentieth book of the Goosebumps Series.

Gupe ended the anecdote by saying seriously, “This is the very same talisman. For forty years and a month it was tied to my grandfather’s arm, he had never once opened it. There’s a white mark on his arm now that he has opened it, he told me that he had been wearing the talisman for so long that it almost become part of his skin, the talisman itself sometimes tickled and had to be scratched!”

According to Gupe, when he had ardently nagged to his grandfather that he will neither apply oil, neither bathe, neither eat, if he wouldn’t give him the talisman, Gupe’s grandfather had immediately tied the talisman around his grandson’s arm. Gupe had also added that even if he ate something, he will eat so less that after some days he will become very hungry, and his arms and legs will start shaking, froth will come out of his mouth, his eyes will turn over—Gupe had said this much, when his grandfather tweaked his own ears and immediately tied the talisman to Gupe’s arm.

Gupe found out that the talisman was as powerful as ever. In half an hour, his uncle’s fountain pen’s nib had broken, and Gupe was given it. Even though later Gupe’s uncle had asked him for the pen; that was the very reason Gupe had left his uncle’s house even with still two days left for the vacation.

As soon as he came home, he was told that his tuition teacher has mumps, his cheeks now resemble a pumpkin, even if he gets cured, it will take at least a month.

Now I felt that Gupe was talking bluff. He is saying that if he wears the talisman and say something will happen, that thing is bound to happen. We all created a hullabaloo over this – Can something like this ever happen?

Naga said, “Only Jesus Christ can do something like this-,”

Gupe turned red like a beetroot in anger, and pointing a sharp and long nail at Naga, he said, “You will get a punishment and stand throughout in today’s Science class.”

And that was exactly what happened. Not only did he stand throughout the class, he also had his ear tweaked. After this, nobody had the courage to tell Gupe anything again. Gupe just had to look at his talisman and say something, and all the other students will take that as true. In fear of getting cursed, everyone gives Gupe whatever he asks for.

In three weeks the class is quaking under Gupe’s new power. He started doing whatever he liked. Even forcing Kalipod to shave off his hair because Gupe didn’t like his new haircut.

Everybody started getting thin as days went past by. Naga’s shirt got so loose, that his elder brother accused Naga of taking his shirt. He scolded, “Don’t you see it’s got all loose and flabby? It’s either father’s or mine.”

Gupe also started taking over everybody’s things. Pencils, rubbers, sharpeners, colour pencils; the weight of all these threaten to tear apart his pockets nowadays. To prevent that from happening, he took my tiffin box to keep them securely. I got furious. I started stuttering. Shaking my head, I said, “L-Look Gupe, you are getting worse nowadays. This is getting too much now. I solved all your sums yesterday. You ate more than half of my tiffin. I ended up having a scolding in English class because you were blabbering away. Don’t cross the limits, I am telling you!”

With an angry mind I said all these in one breath, unable to stop once that I have started. Gupe started getting ready to curse me. As his eyes became small like two tiny pinpricks, he gulped, cleared his throat, pointed towards me, and said in a ringing voice, “Today is the last day of your life. Even if the day passes by, the night will not.”

The whole class was in pin-drop silence. Then the teacher entered the class, and nothing more was said.

After a while, my throat felt somewhat dry, my breath started coming out louder, the roots of my hair started shaking, my stomach felt empty. I realized that the curse of the talisman was upon me. I heard nothing of the teaching today, I didn’t bother to take down my homework, I didn’t listen to anyone’s rebukes in the drawing class. The one whose it was the last day in Earth, what else does he have to think about? I pushed my tiffin box into Naga’s hand in class, like I was letting Gupe feast on it, whatever happens. When the bell rung I determinedly decided to destroy that talisman before I go.

I saw Gupe’s old servant, Bhoddu, tidying Gupe’s books, while Gupe stood by and watched. Suddenly I got all heated, and rushed towards Gupe, pushing him against the wall, snatching away that talisman and breaking it into pieces. I should also have given him a beating, but I didn’t do anything. Gupe simply stared at me.

Then the servant came running and started bawling, “Aee, what did you do! That was my infallible stomach-ache cure talisman. I brought it from Kalighat for two paise. I knew earlier that whatever is given to Gupe is bound to get destroyed!”

We all stared open-mouthed at Gupe. He should have said something, but he simply casually took out two paise from his pocket, threw it towards Bhoddu, and went home smiling serenely.

#bengali to english translation

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takaraphoenix · 4 years

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[1]This isn't really the type of questions you answer from what I've observed, but I really needed someone to confide in and you seem like a good person to talk to. I'm in a less-than desirable "home". My mom is... She's quite the character. She's done things that hurt me, emotionally and physically. She's told me multiple times about how she wished she aborted me when she had the chance. Whenever she says she loves me I just remember all the times she yelled those things.

[2]She has, at one point, tried to murder me. At least, I think she was trying to murder me. She says she wasn't, but with what she did? I doubt it was just a simple argument that got slightly out of hand. Things were thrown and knives were involved. I was dragged by the hair and had my head bashed against a hard, worn-out couch (though there were no fatal injuries despite that). I never attacked her back and only defended myself. The only time I even hit her was when she had the knife.

[3] I was at a bad place even before that, so I didn't necessarily care. I didn't want to feel the pain from what I think she was going to do, but the end result didn't matter to me as much as it should've. She noticed, and decided to threaten me by telling me she was going to kill herself. Despite her hurting me and what she's done to me, it's not like I wanted her to kill herself. Especially when we were the only two people in the house. Things happened. Neither of us died.

[4]She fixed herself up and left the house, probably to get some fresh air. I was left alone and I was destroyed. I didn't know what to think. The only constant parental figure in my life has been hurting me for a while, but the fact she just did that messed me up. My thoughts were in shambles and I didn't know what to do. She took my phone away at the time and put passwords on every other device. I couldn't use the phone. Who would I even call?

[5]Apart from the fact she kind of destroyed the landline when I tried to call my grandmother when she was beginning to hit me. My grandmother didn't pick up anyway, either. I never got this resolved. We act like this day never happened. Sometimes I do forget it happened, but whenever she yells at me, it just comes back and I have a hard time breathing. It still messes me up and I panic whenever I think we're going to fight again.

[6]The reason I'm even typing this out is because she was being irrational again and was being passive-aggressive and sarcastic with me. She was picking a fight and the memories are messing me up in the head. I don't know what to do. I'm still a minor. I can't just up and leave. I have nothing.

This isn’t the type of questions I answer, because it’s not usually the type of questions I get. So don’t worry about it. I’m honored you see me as someone you can talk to.

“Who would I even call?”

Do you have any family left? You said grandmother, so she your only grandma and is she on... your mother’s side? Other randparents, aunts, uncles, your father? Neighbors, or parents of friends that you think are trustworthy?

Also: The police. Or child services. I know that sounds extreme, but you... need to get out of there, before something like that happens again, especially when you say that that’s a pattern with her. You need help, someone who is actually able to be physically there and help you get out of there.

You can up and leave. It may sound really scary, but... if your home isn’t safe, if the person who is supposed to love, shelter and make you feel safe does the opposite of that, you can and should leave.

Don’t just run away. Seek adults who can help you.

Maybe first adults you know you can trust, to then discuss what next steps to take together with them.

#Phoe Giving Advice #tw: child abuse #Anonymous

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evalinkatrineberg · 4 years

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Grip

A/N: A short and bittersweet 3k words on the Bergs. I let Evalin say fuck. Merry Ficmas.

I could hear the rain hitting the metal roof of the car, see the dim lighting of the gas station in the distance. The sticky leather of June’s backseat clung to any exposed skin, burning as I peeled myself off of it in the same way it burns to rip off a bandaid. It smelled of rain with a hint of gasoline. There was no air in my lungs as fingers trailed across my chest, stopping only when I heard the faint click of a seatbelt being fastened.

All of these sensations, all at once, and yet, it felt like I was watching the memory all play out. I wasn’t the girl in the backseat. I was simply watching her, observing the way her blonde hair stuck to the damp window she now leaned her head on, the way her lip quivered ever so slightly. The boy who was about to change her life had an impish grin on his face as he got back in the passenger seat of the car, looking back at the girl in the backseat.

He wanted to take her home with him, he had said. To do what, exactly? The girl in the backseat didn’t want to know, and yet images of possible scenarios flooded her mind, none of them good.

I didn’t want to know.

I was the girl in the backseat.

I startled awake, my limbs flailing as my eyes flew open, seeing nothing in the dim lighting of the room I was in. The surface below my head was hard, and smelled faintly of wood and lysol, like somebody had cleaned it earlier this day. It was smooth, and I was able to pull my arms out from under my head, which had been resting upon them, with little effort. The fabric of my shirtsleeves slid across the surface with almost no resistance.

I blinked a few times once I had lifted my head, waiting for the world to come back into focus. My contact lenses were dry, like sheets of sandpaper on my eyeballs. After a few moments, though, I was able to make out my surroundings, knowing where I was the instant I saw the table below me.

The library. I had fallen asleep in the library, and awoken in a cold sweat, after the same dream, again.

I looked down at my watch, groaning to myself as I read the time. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and I had managed to pass out in the library, likely due to sheer exhaustion. The fatigue in and of itself had begun making it a bit too easy to fall asleep, which was both a blessing and a curse, but staying asleep was a whole different issue.

I looked down at my notes, which I had finished the day before, thankfully, and then at my computer, which was showing a pdf of next week’s readings. I had been planning on getting a jumpstart on that, if only to have more free time in the upcoming weeks. My plan made no sense, I had to admit. My family was here this week, and yet I wanted to do more work this week, so I could have less work next week. Maybe I was just trying to avoid my family. After what had happened last night, when Jen had received that initial text from Wylan, asking us to retrieve our siblings, I really couldn’t even blame myself. I loved my family dearly, but I was glad family week was coming to a close. They could be a bit overbearing, and I had grown so used to my usual routines at the palace. Their visit had been welcome, of course, but the manner in which it had thrown off my rhythm had not.

With a shaky breath, I began packing my books and my laptop into my backpack, slinging it over my shoulders and pushing my chair in when I was done. I shouldn’t complain. It hadn’t been all bad. I had slept more this week than I had in the previous weeks, in part because my family was here, and Lydia had decided to take up residence in my room, instead of the room the rest of my family had been provided. It was easier to retire to bed at a reasonable hour when you knew there was someone waiting up on you, holding you accountable. Still, it wasn’t a foolproof system.

Lydia would likely still be awake now, I realized as I made the trek back to my bedroom. A foolish part of me had hoped, that first night, that having her here would somehow make my nightmare go away. I hadn’t had it when I was in my childhood bedroom, which I shared with Lydia whenever she was home, so some foolish part of my brain had concluded that clearly, she was the missing link.

Instead, having her here just made it more difficult, because I didn’t want to explain to her why I was waking up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, my heart racing, every night. She seemed so happy, now. Her smile every time she looked down at her hand was enough proof of that. I’d never seen that particular dopey grin light up her face ever before she had announced her engagement. It had almost sent a pang of sadness through me, the first time I had seen that, as if there had been another, more secret, side to my sister, that she had hidden from me all these years. She deserved to be happy - she deserved all the happiness in the world, if you asked me - but I just wanted to share in that happiness with her.

I loved being here, at the palace, in Angeles, but sometimes, I felt so isolated. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have friends - I was quick to refer to any of the other girls here as such - but friendship grew a bit difficult when you all were vying for the same man’s heart. Arin, while I felt I could confide in him, was also often busy between work and the Selection, and I didn’t want to think about adding to stress levels by sharing my woes with him. Besides, I wasn’t entirely sure what to refer to him as - a friend? Something more? The lines had blurred. He didn’t have an answer, and I sure didn’t, either.

At the same time, I was isolated from my family, as well. Their lives were all going on, without me there, as if very little had changed. My own sister had started seriously dating someone without even bothering to tell me until she was engaged. I had never thought that we had secrets between us, but now, it was becoming apparent that we did. Her engagement, my nightmares of Lukas. Were there more? Probably.

I reached my room, carefully cracking open the door, hoping that maybe, by some miracle, Lydia wouldn’t be there. Right now, I was ready to just put on some pajamas, and curl up in my bed, alone. Space. I needed space. I needed to be left alone, unlike I had been, in the backseat of June’s car, when Lukas -

Lydia was there, and she wasn’t alone. I closed the door behind me as both her and Gabriel turned to face me, identical frowns on forming on their faces. Their brows furrowed. It was Gabriel who spoke first, his voice uncharacteristically soft and quiet. “Ev, are you okay? You look -” he paused, his eyes flickering up and down the length of my body “- pretty shaken up.”

“I’m fine,” I lied, even as I felt the first tears threaten to spill from my eyes. Fuck. Why was I doing this? I had told myself I was done crying. Lukas was a twat, who didn’t deserve any more of my tears.

“Fuck,” I repeated, throwing my backpack to the ground, and beelining towards the bathroom. If I was going to cry, I was going to do it alone, siblings be damned.

“Evalin,” Lydia called after me, standing up from where she had been sitting on my bed and striding across the room, coming to a stop only once she had grabbed my wrist. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, pulling my wrist free from her grip, holding it close to my chest. There were no words, no matter how many times I opened and closed my mouth to speak. The only thing I could produce at the current moment was tears. Tears for the family who I had missed, that was about to leave again, tears for the secrets we all kept from each other, and tears for the girl in the backseat of her best friends car, about to have one of the last bits of her childhood naivety and innocence ripped away from her forever.

Lydia didn’t push for an answer, instead just pulling me close to her, placing one hand on the back of my head, and the other on my back. She slowly guided me towards the bed, all the while humming one song or another our grandmother had used to sing to us, before she passed away.

“What happened?” Gabriel asked, taking a seat on my bed, to my other side. He placed a hand on my shoulder blade, then slowly ran it up and down my back.

It was all I could do to shake my head, my breaths short and raspy as more tears fell. Where could I even begin? Telling Arin was one thing - he didn’t know Lukas, hadn’t seen how many times he had been over my house after what had happened. He had no way of knowing how close of friends I had still considered the two of us, or how utterly foolish I must have been to have just forgotten everything that had gone down in June’s car. My siblings, though, had seen all of that, though they were unaware of what happened that night. They likely wouldn’t believe a word I said, what with Lukas and I still being so buddy-buddy up until the night before I had left for Angeles.

There were about eight months between the night in June’s car, and the night I had shoved Lukas off of our front porch. Eight months, where I had invited Lukas to different events, studied with him, laughed with him, worked with him, without ever questioning what had happened that night. Lukas had been a friend. I had never assumed he would have done something so heinous.

I felt Lydia lift her head, right before she murmured, “I’m going to kill him.”

When I looked up, I saw her shaking her head as she stared at Gabriel. He narrowed his eyes back down at me, his brows knitted as he asked, “What did he do?”

Arin. They meant Arin. It hadn't been him, though. That wasn’t to say he had never done anything wrong, but he had done so much right, recently. He was blameless in this.

“Not Arin.” My voice was no more than a whisper as it left my mouth.

“Then who?” Lydia narrowed her eyes, looking down at me once more. With her thumb, she wiped away some more tears as they fell, before brushing my hair out of my face with her fingers.

I almost didn’t want to say his name.

“Lukas.”

It all poured out of me then - what had happened with Proctor, then with him, the warning I had given to our father, and the recent nightmares. I only stopped talking when my heart was empty, my chest lighter, as if the words had been lodged in there the entire time, just waiting for me to break the dam and release the flood. When I looked up, Gabriel’s face was blank, expressionless, his eyes glazed over and distant. Lydia’s own eyes were wide as she withdrew her hands to her lap, taking a shaky breath of her own.

She glanced over at Gabriel, her eyes searching for something in his face. Once she found it, she nodded, and then turned back to me. “We knew -” she pushed some hair behind her ears “- about Lukas, at least.”

The world stopped spinning, the only sound in my brain now white noise. “What?”

“We had known where you were really going, when you said you were going to sleep over at June’s.” She shook her head, a ghost of a smile flitting across her face. “Her parents knew, too. Gabriel, Father and I had gone over to their house around when we assumed you all were leaving the party. We had only intended to bust your chops a bit - Father wasn’t even mad - but when you and June walked through that door -” another shake of her head “- I’ll never forget it.”

Neither will I, now that I remember.

“I helped you up the stairs,” Gabriel continued, his eyes fixed on his hand, which was still on my back. “You were just crying uncontrollably, and carrying on. I could hardly understand a word, but Lydia managed to piece two and two together as she calmed you down.”

Another memory, the sensation of an arm around my back, under my shoulders, supporting me.

I frowned as I listened to their story, finding holes in the plot they were spinning. “That doesn’t make sense. If June was there, why would she still willingly hang out with Lukas after the fact?”

Lydia shook her head, picking the story back up. “She was downstairs, being chewed out by her father for going to the party. We didn’t want to add to any of her troubles. Plus, we figured you’d tell her when you woke up in the morning, but then you woke up, and claimed not to remember anything.”

Memories of every moment I had spent with Lukas for those eight months flashed through my head at lightning speed. We had laughed, we had enjoyed our time spent together, we had had a forced kiss under the mistletoe - all of it could have been avoided, if one tiny detail of that night had been different.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“How,” Gabriel started, sighing loudly, “does one go about telling their sister that she was assaulted, but doesn’t remember any of it?”

Assaulted. I hadn’t used that word to describe the encounter - had actively avoided using it, actually. It sounded so final, so harsh. I had gotten off lucky. It could have been so much worse, had it continued. So many other people had gone through so much worse. Lukas’s kisses, as tarnished and disgusting as they made me feel, were nothing in comparison to what the word, “assault,” implied, to me.

“Besides,” Gabriel forged on, oblivious to the fact that I was lost in thought, “there was nothing we could do.”

“You could have told me,” I argued, my throat as dry as a desert as I attempted to speak. “There might have been something I could have done.”

“We were trying to figure out how to handle it, Ev.”

I felt something bubbling up within me, hot and fiery, filling my lungs like a bellows with a newfound burst of air and energy. “I’m not a child anymore, Gabriel. I can handle myself.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Can you?”

I could. It would be on my own terms, though.

The fire within me erupted, spewing ash and lava all throughout my body.

I turned from him to Lydia, staring them both down before pointing towards my bedroom door. “Get out.”

Gabriel was the first to stand, having heard my message loud and clear. Good. I glared at him as he took a few small, slow steps towards the door, his eyes darting between me and Lydia.

“Evalin,” my sister tried again.

I’d had enough. I whirled on her, letting the anger coarse through me as I pointed towards the door again, my arm shaking with some emotion I was too tired to identify. Rage, maybe. Frustration. Betrayal. All were likely candidates. “You can sleep with everybody else tonight. I said get out.” Solitude. I needed time, and space, to myself. Just this once.

She glared back at me for a few long moments, then stood up, reluctantly following after our brother. Her eyes were locked on mine until she stepped over the threshold, shutting the door behind her with a satisfying click of finality.

Can you handle yourself?

I stared at my wall for a moment, basking in the silence around me as I braced my arms on the edge of my bed. With a single push, I was on my feet, walking towards my backpack. My phone was right in the front compartment, where I had left it. Unlocking it, I opened the messages app, clicking on a thread started just last week, with only one message in it - my name, followed by a smiley face.

I could handle this, and I knew a good place to start.

I typed up the message to Arin, reading it over only once before hitting send.

Evalin: Take up my father on his offer to file a complaint against Lukas.

Something was missing.

Evalin: Please.

Satisfied, I plugged my phone into the charger by my nightstand, clicking it locked once more, before grabbing a pair of pajamas, and heading towards the bathroom to get ready for bed. I was going to get as much sleep tonight as I could, no matter how many times I woke up in between. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The sleep would likely help me think clearer, anyway.

I didn’t check my phone to see if Arin responded. I just shut off the light, and climbed into bed. I could handle this, and right now, that meant sleeping.

#selectionoc

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astroponder · 4 years

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I just want to preface this by saying that by no means am I a writer. Adding to that yes I’m able to express things but I’m not one to care about punctuation unless autocorrect adds it. If my thoughts that you read don’t have much context I apologize and am willing to elaborate further with any questions. With that being said let’s drive in my mind and share my own perspective on life.

Funny how life is a growing process that you molt from with each shell you grow from with experiences. We all have this idea of what a perfect life would be like for our own self. Striving to achieve that or stumbling along the way. Sometimes we fall into this pit that seems impossible to get out of. Yes it could possibly be our own cause of why we’re stuck there or outside factors. Hell maybe even both if we’re really unlucky. I’ll be honest for more transparency for myself and the reader. I’m stuck due to my own lack of ambition. Why you ask? Well let’s go down the rabbit hole of my life.

I’m 23 years young on this lovely planet. I grew up without much in life and it was a constant struggle sometimes depending on the stage of growing up. My mother decided at the age of 18 she wanted to have a baby with my father. My father who was married wanted to have a baby as well but his wife didn’t want anymore children. So bam drugs, alcohol, nasty sex here I am. Technically an only child between my mother and father but I’m the middle child of the 9 total of all the siblings I share.

This part will give the basis of my mother. I get my tenacity, grit, and determination from her along with intelligence. Don’t mistake that for her being a saint for some reason though. Ever since she was young she has been a troubled child due to her upbringing as well. She hid me from my father until I was 7 years old. I had no knowledge of the man until one day she decided child support was needed while she was married to my step dad. Back tracking though from day 1 to age 6 it was hell. I was never really taken care of always dropped off at peoples houses to be taken care of. One day I was with my grandmother and I was taken into custody as a foster child. Due to the lack of parental care I should’ve been given. To good faith looking back my mother regained custody of me again. You might be thinking “why the good faith?” Well we’ll get to that.

Upon coming back to my moms care she was seeing my step dad through the internet. He wanted the white picket fence life with her since he thought she was the one. Young love you gotta love that shit it’s a world of hell. Well you know what actually got that life for about almost 4 years. It was great I loved it I could be a kid with no worries of abuse or being left alone. We got to do things kids would ask their parents like baseball games, movies, and beach days. I even got to do karate for a little bit. Looking back it was truly great growing up. Until my mother found out my step dad was talking to other women. So she decided to take it upon herself to have an affair. All things went down hill after that without warning. Money was being spent irresponsibly, my step dad worried of the state of the relationship, people would show up randomly total strangers. My mother’s past life tickled back in.

Everything perfect was flipped on its head put into complete distress. My mother let that old life take her by hands and be whisped away. Her boyfriend was very abusive my home was turned into a shithole with every room turned into a bedroom. Literally every room was a place to sleep. The memories that were made in each part of the house faded to distant thoughts of happiness. Drugs were used regularly around us along with people being drunk. One memory I recall I broke one of her boyfriends bongs by accident and cried hysterically because I thought was going to beat me. I would catch my mom having sex all over the house with him. One time he did out his hands on me. He grabbed me by the ears and threw me around like a rag doll because I disrespected my mother for mistreating me. I was mad at her because she put me in “home jail”. I was fed only when she said it was necessary and when I was fed it was usually rice or eggs made out of the microwave. Mind you I was in trouble for staying up too late for playing a theme park creation game my father bought me for Christmas. That is why I was in “home jail” sadly. My step dad had been kicked out of the house and thrown down the stairs earlier before all this happened I forgot to mention that as well. Then my mother came to me one day and asked if I wanted to visit my father. I said yes because I wanted to get away from that life. Evidently it was a ploy to drop me off to live with my father unknowning to me and my father. She was going to jail for money laundering that is why she did it.

I received that phone call from her while up there with my father saying “you’re going to have to live with your dad for awhile mom has to take of some stuff”. I thought to myself “this is great I’m so happy I can be happy and a kid again!!!” Sadly I was mistaken... going back to my mom hiding me from my father I never really knew anything about him. I had visits but it was only when he was buying me clothes, toys, and other things. Everything at first was great living with my dad. I was always fed and had something to do so I could stay busy. Something a kid needs at 10 years old. My father always had money and I never understood really why for a bit. I would ask for something and he would buy it for me no questions asked. Eventually I learned he had money all the time because of drugs more specifically prescriptions. He would sell Xanax and Oxys to my family and his friends. I would always see people falling asleep or arguing with my dad to help them out because they’re hurting. I never let myself understand it fully because I was young and didn’t care because I had everything I wanted.

Things started to change after about a year dramatically being with him. My older siblings by about 10+ years would bully me saying that I’m not his son even my own step mom. They didn’t like me because I was a child that shouldn’t have ever happened since my dad was married. My own father would even question it to my face by saying my uncle could be my dad because my mom liked sleeping with other people. This is nothing you should ever tell your child under any circumstance. So it continued the bullying, hazing, and hate towards me it progressed badly. My step moms brother decided to smash a burger in my face because I stuck up for myself when he was picking on me. He was 37 at the time totally uncalled for. My sisters drunk boyfriend smashed his knee in my back because he was drunk and I stuck up for myself. My sisters would scratch things into my tv and blame me for doing it. Along with burning cigarette holes in my bed. I even had to deal with bed bugs for 2 years going to school with bite marks all over my arms. At this point I’d stay in my room playing video games all day and night because it was an escape. People would steal my games from me because they knew I enjoyed them very much.

I was in 8th grade when everything got worse for everyone not just myself. My step mom passed away everyone’s life crumbled and my dad was very depressed. It was every man for themselves literally. My sister stole my dads safe with a ton of old family jewelry and pills. My dad never got it back. I stayed at the apartment with her a couple times and she stole it because her boyfriend told her to. Her boyfriend actually ended up overdosing and my sister fell asleep holding his dick when he was over dosing. He died off the pills she stole. I guess karma is a real bitch for some people. To some things up short basically after my step mom passed away we moved a lot never stayed anywhere long. My dad would disregard me as his son without any type of relationship with him. My sisters would bully and steal from me. Then my mom came back into my life after prison. I moved back with her expecting different results because I wanted to escape again. Once again I was sadly mistaken...

All the same story everything was good again for me for a small period of time. Except my mom would mentally abuse me. She was still the same dramatic sassy bitch as before. Always trying to paint this picture of what a perfect mother she was in my head even though I knew it wasn’t true. I would question her and I was met with brash comments “do you know what I’ve done to make sure you’re still here?” “Why do you argue with me I saved you from your fathers.” “I should’ve kept you in foster care.”. I was very angry at this point in my life since I was fed up with all the stress put on me. My father no longer talked to me anymore because he truly believed I wasn’t his son. Life sent me down a hole of hell at a young age. For the first time I was thinking about suicide. I ended up in the hospital for a week because I threatened to hang myself in the closet from all the pain out on me that no one wanted to own up to. I got out with still very little understanding of what I was feeling inside me. My mother again had stolen money and was off to prison again. To a miracle my aunt and uncle let me move in with them. I stayed with them for a summer and my dad ended up coming to get me.

It was back to the same bullshit from before except I was older and angry about all the abuse. I held no words back so no one liked me. By this point I was 16 and was a loose cannon among a bunch of idiots. Things came to a complete stop one day when my sister overdosed and left 7 childeren behind. My dad stepped up to the plate and made sure everything was taken care for each kid assuring they all had a home to live in. This is when I decided to go into the army to escape all the stress. Like honestly what the hell could army do to me? I’ve already been through so much shit in life lmao. College was something I wanted to do but debt was something I feared. So the army it was for my destiny in life or so I thought.

Holy shit was I free and liberated from the life I grew up with. I went through hell to graduate don’t get me wrong but all I had to do was listen and execute. My mother and father were very proud of me for accomplishing graduating basic training. It was a foreign feeling to experience from them. Let alone anyone in life. I got to be a fucking photographer/videographer for the army. Who in their right mind can say they’ve done that? Not too many people that’s for damn sure. I was proud of myself in every aspect and I got there because of myself no one else.

I completed schooling for my job and arrived to my unit fresh off the boat. Sadly I didn’t know how to be an adult because those skills were never taught to me growing up. My spending habits were absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t know how to save money. Credit cards were the downfall of my credit score. Women well fuck I had no clue what the fuck I was doing there. Relationships were non existent before Army life. Social life was great though everyone was my friend. It was something I could coast by and do without worries since I was always fed, clothed, and had money. Until once again my past creeps into the present while I was talking to this girl and dating her.

My father called me one day saying he might have colon cancer and my mom was always pestering me for money and help to get her out of another abusive relationship she put herself in. My girlfriend at the time saw that I was stressed out and didn’t know what to do so she wanted to leave me. She started talking to other guys while with me. It stressed me out completely. I didn’t want to go home for Christmas because I knew it would only worsen my stress. She left me before Christmas and about a week later after being barraged with more stress from home I woke up one day and decided it had to end. Suicide was my only option to escape all the things I’ve ever encountered in life. My heart hurt so badly from my childhood trauma and it always kept creeping back in. I looked on my messy floor of my barracks room. I saw a belt and an extension cord. For some reason I grabbed the cord without second thought. My roommate was gone on leave until after New Years. I went to the bathroom tied the cord up securely around the curtain rod then securely around my neck. I do a small hop after thinking blankly to myself it ends now. I black out after I feel the tension around my neck with a last thought of regret. It was dark and warm a place I could never describe fully. Then suddenly I feel something wet on my body I didn’t know where yet. The cord had snapped while unconscious and I hit the shower knob on the way down. I could open my eyes but wasn’t able to see physical objects only bright colors it was like looking through a Kaleida scope. I thought to myself “fuck I’m still alive, well I’ll fall asleep again and hope I’m dead” BOOM BOOM BOOM I open my eyes and couldn’t feel my body and barely move it. I could see again and thought who the hell is that at my door. I muster up whatever energy I had left and try to get my numb body moving again. I stumble to the door and open it and see my angry squad leader wonder where I’m at then I fall into him with no energy. I pass out again being woken up with my clothes being cut off and needles in my arm.

Well there you have it a failed suicide attempt... life was very depressing after that. I lost my entire military career because of it sadly. I loved my job so much I really did because it kept me away from my past. I numbed my past with alcohol and women. Very stupid decision don’t ever do that if you’re going though a hard time. Really don’t do that shit it’s disrespectful to yourself and women... I never dealt with my issues appropriately and it affected me after I got out of the army. Nothing I went through in life was ever fully acknowledged for what I went through I was a professional suppressor. I thought that once I got out I’d be happy because I could lead a life I wanted to live. Boy way I wrong because I didn’t deal with anything. I settled into a job and apartment. I enjoyed my job it had promise for progressing in a bunch of different areas I was very content. I met a very nice woman that deserved a good man I thought I could be for her. Then covid hit and shit hit the fan again. I lost my job that I thought was going to be good for me long term. It sent me into depression again numbing the pain. My girlfriend at the time was going through a hard time as well dealing with me being a a Debby downer along with school and work. God bless her heart because she is a good soul. She abruptly left me one weekend and it spiraled me deep into depression because I have bad abandonment issues from my childhood. She had good reason to leave I was a mess and wasn’t ready for a relationship along with a few other red flags I was giving off.

Life just stopped for me I looked for work but got settled into being back into my room again like I did as a kid. I picked up some college courses to keep busy and worked out a lot. I just couldn’t fill this void that made me feel like such a failure in life. All my life I felt as if I was always destined to be nothing like the rest of my family since things always got very bad quickly for me when it got good. Then when things start to settle out a little bit from my feeling of failure and breakup. My brother commits suicide while trying to achieve his dreams. He committed suicide the same way I tried. It cut my heart so deeply. Everyday I’d think to myself “is this what’s it always going to be like?”. Even when you get to a point where you’re going somewhere you still want to die? I go to therapy and acknowledge things while working on them. I’ve come to the conclusion I don’t want to die I just want be happy. Where that lies one day in life I have no clue but I do know deep down in my broken heart the day with present itself to me when it’s right.

Well hot damn you’re probably wondering why I’m writing my life out on the internet of all places huh. I just want people to know they’re not alone even in the hardest times there’s so many people out there just like you. Like I said I’d get to the part where I said it was good faith my mother got me back. I’m an anomaly something that should’ve gone rogue like the rest of my family. Treated everyone like shit and be ignorant to many things. From all the things in life I’ve gone through I’m the most kind, caring, and selfless person. I hold no hate in my heart from my past anymore because it has made me into a very strong human being. I feel as if I can overcome anything in life now. If she never got custody of me I would’ve been robbed of so much knowledge in life. Humble beginnings make strong people and circumstances make smarter people. I know who to avoid in life, keep in my life, love, and appreciate.

I’m going to accomplish my goals no matter the stakes. Expect to possibly hear from me again on this page to give updates if you do care to read more. I could go into more detail and have more context but I would be writing a novel. You are not alone remember. I’d be glad to listen to anyone’s life story or troubles because you deserve to be validated.

The picture I added is of the sunset I took. Just remember each day that sun goes and rises the next day no matter what. It’s consistent everyday if you do the same you’ll understand it’s all about getting through things day to day.

If you read everything thank you! Please feel free to ask any questions. Things got a little rushed towards the end of writing this so it got kind of sloppy and short of information but I think it does enough justice.

#photography #spirituality #writing #positivity #rant post #depressing shit #depressing post #anxitey #fucking hell #original story #my life #self love #october 2020

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caligobeltrao · 4 years

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I for one would love 2 hear ur thoughts on the hannibal novel 👀👀 - bloodybrahms ☺

ahhh thank you BB!! <3 I’m gonna throw it under a cut bc I know people aren’t gonna want my ramblings clogging up their dash lol.

Edit after I’ve written it: Holy shit this turned into a monster but tbf I did say I was going to rant. I think I miss writing college essays...

Also, I would like to note bc I’m about to bitch, I do still love Hannibal and Clarice and all of the franchise. Hell, I even love book Hannibal because I’m garbage and want to be special. So yeah. It’s a fond bitching.

Okay where to fuckin begin man... This novel was a fucking Shit Show, my dudes. It was like baby’s first fanfiction.

Let’s just jump in, shall we?

So by now, having read both Red Dragon and Silence of the Lambs, I know Harris injects of lot of sexual shit into his novels, fine whatever, but the amount of pedophilia is insane. Like, Red Dragon with the grandmother threatening to cut his dick off by holding it in between scissors????? And then we have Mason Verger, worst human on the planet. Like jfc I’ll go into him specifically more later but just. Men. Why does it always have to be sexual.

Like that time Clarice wasn’t wearing a bra and she wanted to prove to Paul Krendler she wasn’t wearing a wire so she flashed him her tits?? Unnecessary, Harris. Bullshit on all counts.

Next, poor Ardelia Mapp. So he clearly wrote out her accent in Silence, which frankly reads racist since to me it seemed like he did it every time a character of color was met but he didn’t for Clarice’s Southern accent except for this book when she was talking to Ardelia. Now, that’d be a cool way to show how close they are, sure, but it just... She didn’t show up enough to warrant that reaction from me, plus all the other casually racist shit he throws in.

Ardelia’s literally there as the wise Black best friend to help Clarice along. She doesn’t feel like her own character, she’s only there in conjunction with her, or doing something for her. She was the fucking valedictorian for Christ fucking sake, she also works at the Bureau but if her department was mentioned it was only once in passing. She was not a full character which fucking blows because she could’ve been so cool.

And real quick before I forget, I hate how she’s treated in the end. I do like she gets a reference and that brainwashed Clarice sent her an emerald ring and a note saying she was okay, but Ardelia was abandoned by her best friend (that she had lived with) with not even a phone call and they will never see each other again and I think Ardelia knows it. It sucks and I’m heartbroken for this woman.

I’m gonna touch a little bit on the racism too. Now I’m white and not the most qualified to talk about this shit, but I do wanna mention it because it makes me mad. There’s just so many unnecessary slurs, any POC is more of a background helper character to Clarice than anything or a foil.

For example, Evelda Drumgo. She starts us off. Badass Black woman who runs a drug cartel. She chooses to shoot at Clarice and risk her baby’s life, and we have Clarice wash the baby off and save his life. Then Evelda’s mother is written as irrational when she slaps Clarice for visiting the baby in the hospital; I get Clarice’s impulse, but that woman just lost her daughter because Clarice killed her. I would’ve slapped Clarice too, even if it was a totally justifiable shot.

The baby himself is used as a foil throughout other parts, most notably to me when Clarice goes to visit Mason the first time. There are two Black boys from a foster home playing in a room with a camera so Mason can watch them, and it shakes Clarice up a lil bit because of the baby, but it says she’s getting more used to it.

Now this is half and half well written and shoddy to me. It’d be a cool moment, if the whole incident wasn’t nearly completely forgotten for the rest of the book shortly afterword. It could show growth, if Clarice had any growth to show.

And then the Romani people who are literally just used and thrown away. Sickening. Also very broadly used the stereotypes we hear which Sucks; the three we meet in any sort of depth are pickpockets, one was already in jail and Pazzi used his leverage as a police officer to get her to do what he wanted and threatened to have her baby taken away from her permanently, like it was just bad. And then the man got killed. Pazzi let him bleed out. Asshole.

The slurs. I could take out all of them and pretty much have the same damn thing. Like I get showing negative aspects of characters and just because a character’s racist doesn’t mean the author is, but with the characters already being as shitty as they are, fully didn’t need it to make them worse. Entirely unnecessary. Racism or the character being racist has no impact on the plot is the major thing, I think. And you can replace that with anything along those lines, like sexist, homophobic, transphobic. It didn’t impact the plot, they can still be shitty, you just don’t need to use them.

This also goes in reference to Margot being a lesbian. And the transphobia holy shit, it was disgusting. Harris had Clarice think something so cruel and unnecessary it’s like my guy why was that even remotely something we needed to hear. We didn’t. I wanted to stop reading because that’s not my Clarice, first and foremost, and second, this is supposed to be the character we LIKE. And now I don’t like ANYBODY in this damn book.

And he treats Margot like shit too, and Barney.

Their friendship was beautiful and great and finally for once something nice was happening in Margot’s life and I was happy reading it, and then FOR SOME REASON Margot goes to shower in the same room as Barney after a workout, which makes no sense, and then Barney tries to force a kiss on her (and he was hard, Harris made that very clear) and she had been sexually assaulted by Mason her brother and ruin the whole damn thing and none of it would have changed any other piece of the novel if you removed it!!!!!!!!! Entirely unnecessary!!!!!! And Barney had the gall to say well I couldn’t help myself like none of that was realistic in the slightest, she never would have went in the same room to shower with him.

Something you need to do is basically get some suspension of disbelief from your reader and maintain and stretch that as you go, right? Well mine was gone at that moment.

Also side note Margot is basically just there to show how shitty Mason is for the umpteenth time. Her whole thing is lesbian sexual assault victim.

Also heavily implied she was a lesbian because of the sexual assault. And we rarely see Judy, her girlfriend, so. Bad. Bad all around.

Circling back around to Clarice and how disappointing she is in the books as compared to the movies. Well, Clarice is also a poorly written character. She’s 1000x better in the movie. Hell, she’s even better in this book than she was in Silence, but that’s not fucking hard.

Pretty much all the characters are so flat they don’t even classify as two dimensional.

Like sure, maybe we wanna say Clarice didn’t really solve much in the first book and was just handed everything because she was a trainee and that’s what Hannibal wanted.

Like if you remember the John Mulaney sketch of Delta Airlines where he’s just going “Okay!” and running to the next place he’s told, that’s Clarice.

Okay so why does she get goaded into all this shit now? She should know better. She should know how to handle herself better. Like she messes up basic fucking shit like clearing a room before untying Hannibal, which was stupid, she seems oblivious to some of the politics at work even though she’s been in the FBI for like 7 years now, she would at least have more fucking contacts than Brigham who died in the beginning and Jack Crawford who died at the end by rolling over in his bed to his dead wife’s side and Ardelia who would be near the same level as Clarice I guess but I still don’t know her damn department???? Like you fucking network.

Plus after her final fall from grace with the FBI, we meet or are told of random side characters that go no where and do nothing just to say “hey look at my special little girl, everyone likes her and looks up to her!!” Why? Because she caught Buffalo Bill 7 years ago and then never got a promotion or even worked with the BAU? Again, it does not make sense. People may pity her? But a random girl in the lab wouldn’t be fangirling. Starling herself said her career had gone nowhere because of the politics and not sleeping with Paul. You need to show me why she’s likable in her actions not others words.

We spend more time away from her than with her anyways but Jesus.

AND HER IN THE ENDING. She was fucking BRAINWASHED????? Bull FUCKING SHIT. He completely ruined anything he even remotely might’ve had in this cluster fuck of a novel.

Case in point, difference from the movie, Hannibal spends weeks (possibly? it’s left purposefully vague and I’m guessing that’s because Harris didn’t know the ins and outs and wanted his novel done) meticulously brainwashing Clarice, he had stolen her father’s bones and she’s so far gone at that point she doesn’t care, and the whole scene where Paul is getting his brain eaten? Yeah, she happily indulges and when he insults her, she asks Hannibal for more. Fuck you, Thomas Harris.

And Hannibal’s a Gary Stu, fucking fight me.

In the movie he either is or he’s tap dancing on that line, don’t get me wrong, but in the novels it’s insufferable because it doesn’t seem earned. The pigs didn’t attack him because they didn’t smell fear on him. No. He’s easily able to drug and brainwash Clarice and take her as his lover. No. Go away. He’s so smart and one step ahead and can manipulate anyone and everyone into doing what he wants and blah blah blah shut up! A character being perfect isn’t interesting even if he’s evil!! We all know he’s never truly in danger because of how Harris writes him and that’s boring!!

And I personally have a pet peeve where the villain is described as a monster or unstoppable. That’s boring and I no longer care about your story. I know 9 times out of 10 your main character is going to find a bullshit way around the impossible and kill it. Or it’s just like a default personality and nothing else is added to it. And that’s Hannibal.

I’m on Hannibal Rising now and, spoiler alert, he’s very bland as a character. (Also Harris switched some details in the novel which kinda annoys me like get your own canon right my man but whatever.) The plot itself is pretty fun? I guess? Like there’s action and stuff and I’m enjoying that. But it’s the same set up where Harris’s Gary Stu always wins, like he was 13 in the book when he killed the butcher. Let. Your. Characters. Lose.

Also even more racist shit but what did I expect really.

Anyways, I have no idea who I’m supposed to root for in the novel because all the characters are just kinda shitty. It really just boils down to Harris not showing any redeeming qualities or actions from any of his characters. I liked Margot for a while out of spite but she never really went anywhere and the way she killed Mason (btw she sodomized him with a cattle prod to get his semen bc side plot and then stuffed his Moray eel down his throat and somehow I still don’t think that’s the worst part of the novel) just. No thanks really.

All the random little side plots were also pretty not great. How many time does Harris have to say Pazzi of the Pazzis? Like I fucking get what you’re going for, even if I hadn’t watched the movie I’d be like, “Oh this dude’s gonna get hung outta that window, dope,” the literal first time. Stop treating your readers like idiots.

And then Margot’s side plot was that the will their father left said she needed a biological heir to inherit because he was pissed she’s gay and we needed the homophobia I guess, so Mason got everything, and she was helping him with the Hannibal shit because he’s pretty incapacitated duh, and in return he would give her his jizz so Judy could be artificially inseminated and they could have a child and get some of her inheritance. I don’t care. It was all very gross, and Mason kept saying shit like suck me off you’ve done it before, I won’t be able to feel it anyway, maybe Judy’ll suck me off you think she’d like that. It’s all gross.

And I guess this is a good a time as any to finally start on Mason. So a great rule of writing to make everything work better and give your story more depth is to give everyone both positive and negative traits right, even and especially the bad guys? Like, rules can always be broken if you’re a good enough writer, but I believe I have established that Harris isn’t quite there yet, to put it nicer than I have.

Mason is one bad trait after another. It’s like when Harris was bored of constantly writing about plain ole pedophilia, he threw a dart at a board of horrible things and landed on topics such as: pedophilia but make it incest, extreme sadism, sadism but against children now, and good old fashioned racism! Fucking Cordell was supposed to collect the children’s tears after Mason would make them cry and put them in martinis for him. Realism went out the goddamn door real fast with this novel y’all. Like a fucking Scooby Doo villain over here.

And he loves talking about being a sadistic pedophile, he will literally not shut up about it to Clarice when she first gets there telling her about his trip to Africa and this portable guillotine he has and just. I get it was probably like trying to make her uncomfortable on purpose because he’s a Freak, but it went way too far if only because it was annoying, not even uncomfortable for me as a reader. I was bored real quick. Get to the shit I actually wanna know.

And it sucks because of the weird, over-the-top way of how he died, I got zero satisfaction from his death. I couldn’t even be like, “Well at least Margot got her revenge,” because that’s not how she originally wanted to kill him!!! She wanted someone else to extract his semen for the insemination but couldn’t find anybody to do it for her, and then Hannibal, whilst tied up, said use a cattle prod and you won’t have to touch him and when you kill him you can blame it on me, and I’m pretty sure even if she hit his prostate right every time and he COULD cum from that alone in addition to how his body is Fucked Up now, it would’ve been a lengthy, gross, and re-traumatizing experience for her because all she wanted to do was avoid seeing and touching her brother’s private parts again, which I think is a totally fair and rational desire.

So I have to live with the fact that she was desperate enough to not lose the house and business because of her homophobic father to go through her childhood trauma again. There’s no place in this book that has a somewhat positive conclusion.

Even the very last bit where Barney has a girlfriend and a ton of cash from Margot, all he wants to do is see every Vermeer in the world right? Well, because Hannibal and Clarice are in Buenos Aires where one of them is on display, Barney gets spooked and has him and his girlfriend leave before he can see it and it ends that bit with he never got to see it ever so he didn’t even complete his dream!!!

Also for good measure, Harris throws in that Hannibal and Clarice enjoy having sex regularly. For no reason. Just letting us know.

I know this seemed like just a bitch fest, because it was, but I kinda sorta enjoyed it? It kept my attention at the very least. It’s really disappointing because like I said, I love the movies, all of them, and have since I was little. To see the original not stand up to that image in my mind is a little heartbreaking. Especially Clarice. She was a strong female role model to me, but turns out she’s... just kinda there. And her ending is that of her no longer being herself and getting that agency taken away from her.

There is a reference to her waking up from a sleep, if she is asleep (that’s kind of how he worded it), that kinda let us draw our conclusions on whether she was just brainwashed into being good for him or if she was willingly going along with this and was in love with him I guess and it felt like a slap in the face. She turned from a hardworking, modest country girl working her way up to the FBI into a female Hannibal. Which on the surface sounds kinda cool because we love luxe serial killers, but that’s not what she wanted or who she was set up to be. And to insinuate that she would even remotely consider choosing that path for herself is at its best an insult to her and at its worst a complete erasure of her background, what little character Harris did set up. It also completely erases my own connections to her, as a girl from a small town myself who has bigger dreams than this and also... a good, strong set of morals. He just tossed that out the window.

Obviously if you’re on this blog, you like slasher x reader shit, and this is a novel with a slasher x a person, right? So why am I so mad about it? Because the whole point of this blog and reader insert fanfiction in general is that you are taken as you are and loved wholly as yourself and that you are worthy of that love (in a fictional setting, not really loving people who are like this, which I think we understand but I want to clarify). She was not taken as she was. He is not in love with her, she is not in love with him. She was transformed into what he wanted out of her. He couldn’t get her to be Mischa, his first plan, so he made her like himself. And the fact that he was so easily able to do it makes me upset, and even more so is that it’s not written like it’s weird or wrong. It’s written like they’re in love and this is a good thing.

He may have been going for the classic “everyone is capable of doing bad things” stuff we see a lot, but we got that from Margot already. And Barney, for stealing Lecter’s stuff and selling it. And Paul, and the entire FBI for turning on Clarice, and the kidnappers, and Pazzi, and random shitty side characters. And none of it was particularly well written or made some sort of strong statement. It just was. And that’s not a good enough basis for a novel.

Anyways, if you made it this far holy shit you’re a saint and I love you, let’s be friends?? <3 Have a good day y’all, thank you BB for giving me permission to ramble.

#bloodybrahms #ask #no joke i spent like 5-6 hours total writing this i had a Lot to say

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flutistbyday2020 · 4 years

Text

Mama’s Broken Heart (Formerly How to be a Lady)

How to Be a Lady

Hi, hello, hellur.

Today’s writing is brought to you by @ChoicesFebruaryChallenge. Today’s prompt: crying. I am going to put myself in Riley Brook’s shoes on the day that she returns to court. I’m also going to be silly and switch my POVs because I decided to write from Riley’s POV and not 3rd omniscient because I am a poor planner.

Book: TRR 2

Word count: close to 1000

Riley

“Please come back,” Maxwell pleaded with me. “Come back with me and we’ll fix this.”

My eyes hurt. I’d been crying ever since I was dragged out of the ballroom. My chest was heavy. It hurt to breathe.

“Maxwell, I don’t know if I can. You believe me and Bertrand believe me. But I’d have to convince an entire court that it was staged. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” The last word was merely a whisper as sadness crushed my vocal cords.

Maxwell wrapped me up in a hug. His arms were holding me tightly and everything felt okay for the first time in hours. “Please, Riley,” he whispered.

I could only nod my head.

Weeks passed both too quickly and too slowly. Bertrand beamed at my success of acting “like a proper” lady. He and Maxwell quizzed me endlessly about wine, forks, dancing, and even which hand I should offer to gentlemen to kiss.

“Let’s act like we are meeting for the first time,” Bertrand instructed as he walked a few paces away. There was music in the background as Maxwell and I were also throwing dancing lessons in the mix.

I rolled my eyes as soon Bertrand was faced away from me, but when he turned around, I plastered an award-winning smile on my face, making ridiculous small talk with Maxwell in an exaggerated southern belle accent.

“Why, Lord Beaumont, you have such a gorgeous estate,” I breathed, batting my eyelashes.

Maxwell snorted at my act, making Bertrand glare, but Bertrand said nothing as he approached.

“Lady Riley,” Maxwell said. “Please allow me to introduce you to my brother, Duke Ramsford.”

“Your Grace,” I said as I curtseyed low.

Bertrand bowed and I offered him my left hand. He kissed the back of my palm.

“You wonton fool,” I said, mock horror in my voice. “We’ve only just now met and your lips are already touching my hand! And above the knuckles! Have you no shame?” I gasped, surprised I hadn’t burst into laughter.

Unfortunately, Maxwell did not have the composure as I. He lost it, doubling over in laughter.

I gave Maxwell a side glance but, to my surprise, Bertrand smiled. “That was wonderful, Riley!” He praised me. “Nobody will ever know that you weren’t born and bred in the courts.”

“Thanks,” I said, tears threatening pricking my eyes. If only everyone thought that. “May I be excused for the evening?”

Bertrand nodded and I took my leave.

My great grandmother had been the wife of an army captain for 20 years and she had raised me to be an American lady. I was obsessed with Gone With the Wind and had done extensive research on it several years ago, which is how I knew the protocol on how to greet everyone. Bertrand had been surprised at my grace and poise, but I was still thrown into a life I had never experienced before. It was definitely not the easiest thing I had ever done.

It was going to be awful when we went back to court, and I knew it. Tears were overflowing when I got back to my room. I sensed Maxwell before I heard him. He knocked at my door quietly.

“Little blossom?” He called.

“Come in,” I said, voice cracking.

The door opened slowly. Maxwell’s face fell when he saw my tears.

“Why are you crying?” He rushed to me and wrapped me in a hug.

“I hurt, Max. Liam said he loved me. Hana claimed to be my friend. Drake said he was looking out for me. But where are they? Why haven’t I heard from them?” I sobbed into Maxwell’s shirt.

He pulled me back and examined my face. “Liam can’t contact you. Whoever put out those pictures wanted to hurt you. You would be in danger if he attempted to talk to you.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“Same for Hana and Drake,” Maxwell added. “Liam is terrified for your life. We’ll see them all in a few days.”

Liam

It has been four weeks, almost to the day, since I had seen Riley. Madeleine had thrown herself into wedding planning— I told her to do as she pleased with everything and just to give me an itinerary. I slept alone, thankful for the unspoken rules in Cordonia— no unwedded man and woman should live together. I cried at night, yearning to talk to Riley, and was the dutiful fiancé at day.

It was hard for me to act like I was with the love of my life when I was around Madeleine. She was the complete opposite of Riley— cold, calculating, mean, and a downright bitch when she had to be. I told her that she needed to have some decorum if she were going to be my queen one day, after a particular nasty incident with the staff.

I broke down and texted Maxwell. It was dangerous. Someone could intercept the message and hurt Riley, but I had to know.

Liam: Please tell me she is alright.

Maxwell: She is okay. Today we went over how to greet someone for the first time and called Bertrand a wonton fool.

It was funnier than I can even explain

Liam: I’m glad she’s doing well.

You’ll be at Madeleine’s estate, correct?

Maxwell: We’ll be there.

Okay, I feel a little better now, I thought. I smiled at the idea of Bertrand being scandalous, but the sadness in my heart overtook any emotions. I would give a kidney if it meant I could hold Riley again.

I fell asleep in tears for the twenty-ninth day in a row.

#trr #trr liam #trr mc #trr riley brooks #trr maxwell #liam rys #king liam #riley brooks #Maxwell beaumont #betrand beaumont #choices february challenge

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dragonoracle · 4 years

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Now then let’s take a look at my Dad’s side of the family and my relationship with them.

Ok I’ve spoken a lot about my relationship with my Mom and my MG. And how my Mom worked hard and long to try and tear down not just mine but my sibling’s relationship with my MG.

Now it’s time to look at my relationship with my Dad, my PGM (Paternal Grandmother), my PGF (Paternal Grandfather)and PU2 (Youngest of my Paternal Uncles) and their relationships between themselves and how it affected me and my siblings lives and relationships. First I should point out that my PGM and PGF had a very rocky relationship. My PGM was one of those mothers who turned her children against their father and each other. She did this all the time. She continued doing this well into my life. She very much had a favorite of her children and that was my PG2. He was her youngest child and he was defiantly the Golden Child of his family. He was also the main and longest of her children she tried to turn into her replacement husband. My Dad was the Scape Goat. He was the one that my PGM and PGF focused their abuse on and the one that they allowed their other two children to use and destroy his belongings. My Dad was also the oldest of their children. Their second born child was my PU1 (Oldest of my Paternal Uncles). He seems to have been abused as much as my Dad. He was always compared to my Dad and vice versa. There is also a story of very inappropriate behavior between my PGM and my PU1 when he was a teen right before he fled the state to start his own life. I’ve heard many stories about how my PGM always put her husband (my PGF) above her children when they were younger. She made sure to let them know that the reason they couldn’t get X-mas gift was because my PGF needed a new suit. This caused my Dad, and my PUs(Paternal Uncles) to hate and resent their father. I strongly believe that this hatred and resentment cause them to act out and misbehave. My PGM very much set my PGF to be the disciplinarian of the family (Very stereotypically of families of the 1950’s to 1970’s). This lead to my PGF being seen and in truth from the stories I have heard to become abusive towards my Dad and my PUs. Like him throwing my PU1 threw a large living room window, him calling my dad over from his friends house just to turn the channel on the TV, possibly telling my Dad that my dad being born ruined my PGF’s future. Those are just the most noticeable stories I’ve heard about his abusive behaviors. That does not mean my PGM was not equally if not more so abusive. Some things I’ve heard that she did was she threatened my father with a knife and/or a cast iron pan, her telling both my Dad and my PU1 that the other was doing better then they where (ie. my Dad was wasting his time going to nursing school cause my PU1 was making so much money as an elevator installer and she then would tell my PU1 that they where wasting their lives due to my Dad was going to make so much more money once he was out of school.), I’ve heard that she was the one to tell my Dad that his birth ruined my PGF’s future. Those are just some of the stories I’ve heard about her treatment of her sons. In truth to their children my PGM and PGF where just bad parents and to each other they were horrible partners. In truth I never experienced any abusive behaviors from my PGF. I more felt that he was trying to make up for the mistakes of how he treated his sons by trying to treat their children better. This seems to be a common thing among the Grandfathers of my generation.

But much like my Mom. My Dad and my PGM could not stand the fact I had started to build a close relationship with my PGF by trying to point out all the evils he had done so long before I was born. Yes I know some would say that why didn’t you take you dad’s side and support him. Was that while my PGF was not abusive to me my Dad and my PGM was beyond abusive to me.

My Dad has abused me over and over again threw out my childhood. Some examples of my Dad’s abusive behaviors toward me are Kicking me in the head cause my siblings where making noise and I was the nearest to him as he came out of the guest room of my MG’s house, slamming my hand in the car door cause he was angry about something my Mom had said, at the age of 10 spanking me bare butt due to me being upset over my B (Brother) stealing my happy meal…I could go on and on but those are just the ones that had stuck with me from the childhood.

My PGM was just an abusive woman to any of me or my siblings. She had children she watched for money. These children she held more important and special then us her own blood grandchildren. There is a story of her pushing one of these kids she watched on my Great Grandfather rather than my DS…she was rightly put in her place being told that he didn’t want to see someone else’s child he wanted to see his Great Granddaughter. Yes my Great Grandfather was an epic man who took no BS. These children she watched where monsters. They loved to beat up on us…mainly me (whenever I would visit, these kids where why I chose to stay away till I was an older teen and was finally strong enough to fight back.) They would pick on and bully my siblings if I was not there. And if I or my siblings fought back my PGM would punish us due to hurting these kids she watched. Where we could be bloody and bruised and she would not believe us and punish these kids instead we would be punished for lying and hurting ourselves. Latter in my life my Dad said that her hatred of him was why she hated me and my siblings. I don’t know if it was that or her hatred of my Mom. Because when it came to my PC (Child of the oldest Paternal Uncle) she loved that girl and doted on her. Mind you it could have also been because my PU1 and his family lived many states away from her and she never really saw my PC but for a few visits and many calls a year hard to say there. My PGF on the other hand was very distant for most of my childhood until I was old enough to understand and take part in his hobbies. His hobbies where needle point and stamp collecting. Once I was old enough and showed some interest he took me out and helped me set up my first stamp collecting book. I still have that book today even thought I never actually picked up the hobby. The stamps that he helped me start to collect are from the same country that my MG was from. He showed no jealousy that I wanted to do this. He held no jealousy for my MG where as my PGM was so very jealous of her. He also put up with none of the BS that the kids that my PGM watched and the living room became a safe haven in that house as he hated them running around the living room and interrupting his TV shows. My PGF also started to pick me and my siblings up from elementary school and taking us to our Grandparents homes to wait for our parents to get off of work. I always got dropped off at my MG home and my siblings preferred to go to my Paternal Grandparents home. Again where my PGM was angry over this my PGF was perfectly fine with that. So taking all of this into account I couldn’t as a kid and as an adult see my PGF as an abusive user. Yes he might have made mistakes and been abusive in his past. But I do believe that if someone wants to change they will change.

My Dad over the years made it very clear he did not want children. He never really took part in our childhood unless forced to do so. He would actively ignore us unless he was abusing us either physically, emotionally, or making jokes at our expense. This left me and my siblings most of the time in a desperate need of a father figure. In slipped our PU2 who was very much a minion of my PGM. He started on her orders to take first me and then my B on day trips. My PU2 took me out to get my nails done….as in long acrylic extensions (please do not ever get those for a kid in elementary school. They F@#king hurt when they are ripped off due to a ball being thrown at you on the playground.) During this trip my PU2 tried to get some info on how our house was, how my parents treated us especially how my Mom treated us kids. It latter came out that he was trying to get information they could use to get me and my siblings taken away from my parents to be put into her custody. That’s laughable as her house was too small and too full already. Most likely we would have been taken to my MG’s house as she had the room for four kids to come and live with her and she was far more stable of a parental figure. But let’s get back on point. As soon as my PU2 figured out that I was not of any use those trips never happened again. But he kept taking my B out on his trips. As he was trying to undermine my Dad in my B’s mind and heart. As my B was the heir to our paternal last name as the only grandson. It was also again to spite my Dad as my PU2 was a spiteful selfish person who always wanted to show up my Dad.

My Dad’s side of the family was over all messed up. And this abuse and favoritism went on threw out my adult life. My PC was favored over me by my PGM. She could never do anything wrong and whatever she did was soo soo much more important than my accomplishments. One example that sticks with me to this day my PC had taken part in a dance competition and as far as I remember she didn’t even place. At that same time I was taking part with online collage to become a Vet Tech. I had just pasted one of the monthly exams and my PGM couldn’t be bothered to even say good job for that but she was talking for days about my PC dance competition. Another example I can remember was when she had some friends coming to visit and she demanded me and my Dad to be in the house when they did so. The last example of my PGM favoritism and abuse against me was when my PGM needed to start therapy to help build her strength. The rehab place also provided consoling for the family and the patient to accept the change of the relationship and accepting their roles as caregiver and patient. During one of these consoling sessions it was brought up that my PU2 was going to be getting everything after my PGM died. This was unfair as my Dad was the one taking on all the work to take care of my PMG, handled her bills, was paying his and my rent and overall was doing all the work. Whereas my PU2 was doing nothing to care for my PMG, was not paying rent, and in fact was scamming money out of my PMG. (This has been set up this way early on due to the fact that my Dad and my PU1 had moved out and started families of their own. My PGF and PGM wanted to protect my PU2 who had never moved out and never really wanted to until one day when all his lies and BS was called out. That will be covered in a latter on in this blog for a post all its own.) My PMG was convinced that my PU2 would let my Dad still live in the house after her death. Neither I nor my Dad believed that at all. It was brought up that maybe she should change the will and I kid you all not she turned to me and my Dad and said she would be willing to add my Dad to the will but I had to be out of the house at a set time (I believe I had to be out of the house at the age of 35…I was in my early 20’s at the time). I was heartbroken. Mind you I did not at all plan nor want to stay in that house for that long. But I felt like my PGM just wanted to throw me out and was using the Will as a way to force my Dad to kick me out even if I needed help latter on in my life…I would never get it. I just told my PGM screw off and stormed out. I had never been happier to have my own car then at that time as I had driven to the rehab center on my own so I left on my own.

Some other things she did to me where. Trying to undermine my online schooling by always interrupting my studies to do some stuff that could wait, trying to get me off the computer during an online lecture cause I was online too long, yelling at me to stop trying to unclog the vacuum cause that’s a man’s job not a woman’s job, finally always telling me if I don’t like this get out of the house…when I had little to no money to my name thus leaving me to be homeless, and I have to say the last one was that after I had gotten out of an abusive relationship with the third Boyfriend in my entire life who turned out to be a pedo my PGM after talking with my PU2 and his wife told me I was never allowed to bring any more Boyfriends into her house. I felt heartbroken again as I was feeling unsafe and insecure after the major betrayal by a man I had loved and her is my PGM wanting to deny me a safe place or deny me the ability to have a Boyfriend while living in that house. I’m sure you all can agree with me that my PMG was an abusive woman who made my life up till the day she was put away in a nursing home hell. My Dad stopped being physically abusive to me after I hit my teens as I had gotten stronger and more able to fight for myself. But that did not stop his mental, emotional abuse and financially taking advantage of me. My Dad would yell and bellow threatening me when we got into fights. He would berate and point out my flaws. He took advantages of me at my lowest when I failed out of my online collage due to my own issues and the interruptions of my PGM and convinced me it was best for me to not look for a job and stay home and care for him and my PGM. Yes this was stupid but I really was in my lowest of the low dark places I have ever been in my life. Leading up to the point I have gone no contact with my father he was planning on me to continue caring for him and putting my life on hold till he died. Not caring of my future past that. I fell I’ve explained so much of my relationship with my Dad and PGM. Now I feel this has gone on long enough. I think in my next post I’ll focused on more specific of my relationship with my Mom and the next two post will focus on my relationship with my extended families Uncles and Aunts and my relationship with my Brother, Sisters and Cousins not sure which order these two will be in.

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