#i didn't know his birthday was on the sixth so happy late birthday
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#i didn't know his birthday was on the sixth so happy late birthday#my art#herlock sholmes#sherlock holmes#sherlock holmes dgs#the great ace attorney#dai gyatuken saiban#dgs#ace attorney
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Birthday.
~Kim Namjoon x female reader.
Playlist for this vibe~
• Birthday by Ten.
• make me feel by Elvis drew.
• bad drugs by King Kavalier.
• codeine by solv
• dangerous hands by Austin Giorgio.
• your body by Jimmy brown, Rovv.
Authors note :- Hey guys this is jina, introducing @covertlydark, she's my friend and from now on we both will post our content on this page. hope y'all enjoy
• Reader's pov •
"Okay, This one?" my husband asks the same thing maybe for the sixth time for the night, his voice flat and heavy.
"Noo, we'll watch this some other day. I'm not feeling it right now." My voice lowered on its own at the end of my response when I heard his exhausted sigh. But he still manages to be patient with me.
"This one? This better be the one."
"Nope. Already watched this one."
"Without me?" He raises his eyebrows at me.
"Namjoon, we watched it together." I deadpan.
He scratches his head. "Oh yeah, right. I have an idea, you stay here to get ready, and decide which one you wanna watch while I prepare the table for us, the food is here and the cake is already waiting in the fridge."
"Okay." I smile at him and at the way his brain makes quick decisions and plans, a major contrast to my indecisiveness. He mirrors a smile and his lips brush against my cheeks and give me a quick kiss.
I bury my face in between his neck and shoulder, inhaling his fresh scent of soap and shade of spice and musk. My favorite combination. His mouth touches my bare shoulder and I can feel the curve in his lips against it.
"Go wash up, birthday girl." his husky voice and hot breath fell on my skin leaving a thrill in my spine.
"Be quick or I'll eat the cake myself!" he got up and sang on his way out of the bedroom. I shake my head at his goofiness and stretch my arms on the empty bed, squealing in content.
I hop into the shower and try my best with a little time in my hands. The insta-routine with all that exfoliating and shaving always takes a toll on a girl.
I hear the ringing on my phone after I'm dressed, Seojun's name on my screen, a friend who is also my senior colleague. A frown grew between my eyebrows because one thing that Seojun surely does not do is call after working hours.
I answer while I mindlessly flatten my black flowy dress and fiddle with my necklace, Namjoon gave me last night. It is the prettiest piece of jewelry I ever owned. He slipped it around my neck while I slept in his arms last night and I woke up with a shiny turquoise stone sitting on my chest.
"Happy birthday!" a scream drills my ears from the other side of the line and then an apology, not for me but for a really angry lady. I laugh at her carelessness. "Thank you for the wish, not for the hearing aid bill."
"Oh come on. Why didn't you tell me it's your birthday? I thought you were on leave because you were going somewhere. Jin told me with a cocky-ass grin on his face. I wanted to know it from you not him..." I tune out her blabbering.
I exhale a breath annoyed at the fact that I specifically warned him not to tell anyone. But it's too late now I think he went around the office with a banner of that information because I could hear my notification box exploding.
I don't like it when too many people know about my birthday. It gets overwhelming with all the wishes and responding to everyone with an equal amount of emotion so that the person wishing me does not think I am not grateful or something. I am. I really am, the thing is I don't know how to react to them.
My excitement for my birthday is as same as my excitement for hugging a porcupine. It is just a normal day for me, not for my husband. He is filling the gaps in my lacking enthusiasm because he has got tons of it.
"...and then you know what he told me? He told me that I am not that important to you!? the man really got some nerves to say that on my face. I swear-"
"Okay okay! Calm down. You can discuss him some other time." I huff.
She scoffs and then grumbles, "no one wants to discuss him. Well anyways, I'll be out of your hair. You must be getting ready to go out, right?" exciting curiosity enters her voice. "I mean of course you are. You are THE party girl after all. Wear something sexy, that husband of yours will fall for you all over again..."
Wow, sometimes I forget about how much she talks.
"Seojun, we're not going out. We are just celebrating at home. I wanted to keep it small and simple." I cut in between her chattering.
"Oh." she was speechless after the 'oh'. I know she tried her best to make it sound less pitiful but well she failed. Yes, I've always been the party girl but I guess people change.
I didn't want to go through all that hassle of going out and posting pictures just because I am supposed to do so. I'll do all that when it feels right and when I'm in the mood to go to some fancy restaurant.
"Okay. Well, enjoy your evening. Happy Birthday again." The call ends after I thank her and assure her to call later.
Maybe I'm feeling this because I'm not in my twenties anymore. Am I getting boring? The past-me would be so disappointed, in her eyes, the present-me is lame and boring. If anyone hears this in the office maybe they'll think the same.
You are not fun anymore.
My subconscious screams. I should not have forced Namjoon to stay in today I should have listened to him. What if he thinks-
"Y/N!" I hear his voice anchoring me to earth. "I called your name three times. You okay?" he looks at me with concern but I mask my face with a smile.
"Yes. Just thinking...which one of these should I wear?" I hold up two pairs of earrings while he closed the distance between us in just two long strides.
He changed into a black shirt- with sleeves folded, shriveled up to his elbows- and black pants, looking handsome as ever even in something so simple like this. His hair was perfectly set, not blocking the view of his gorgeous face. He always leaves me mesmerized.
He wraps strong arms around my waist and tugs me closer to him, and uncountable butterflies escape dancing in my stomach. Even after five years of our marriage, he pulls out that effect on me that I know would be the same forever. Every touch, every kiss is like a first. Better than the first.
"The gold ones." his full lips touch my forehead reaping my tiny smile. "Now tell me what is really going on inside this head." he kisses the same spot again.
I sigh against his chest. "How do you always know?" I squint my eyes at him earning his soft laugh.
"Always." he simply shrugs.
He waits patiently for me while I contemplate what to say. "Am I getting boring or... lame?" the question sitting on the tip of my tongue finally made it to my lips.
He frowns and searches for my eyes but I settle them on his chest, and so do my palms. "What makes you think that?" his deep voice pins me with a question. I shrug to lighten the mood, "Nothing it's just the birthday blues hitting me. You know how I was, I used to be the girl who looked forward to going all out and having fun on birthdays. And now... I just don't feel that way."
I finally look him in the eyes and he looks at me with his soft ones with an understanding look. "Now I absolutely feel like I'm getting old." I chuckle lightly.
"Hey... you are not lame or boring. We still go out and have fun when we feel like it. Sometimes I feel the same way, to stay at home and have a good quality evening, just the two of us. That does not mean we are boring people. It simply means we can enjoy ourselves no matter what age we are or the setting is. We are just normal people in our thirties, having fun together in our own way." he finishes with a firm steady voice making me believe every word he said and cherish it, tattooed on my heart.
"Normal people," I whisper out repeating it in my head with a smile. My chest balloons with emotions. He makes me look at things from different perspectives. Good perspectives. He is the anchor of my ship in the vast sea and I will forever be grateful to him.
Now both of us smile. A real one with no masks. He hugs me tightly, healing every tiniest crack in my soul.
"Also," he moves his nose and traces along my neck to my ear. His hot breath rushes on my skin making me twitch with giddiness. "...I don't think boring people do things we do in bed or... kitchen or bathroom. Especially not the ones we did last night and this morning."
My breath gets caught. Eyes wide and lips parted at his low tone. My head replaying what he just reminded me. White silk sheets, whispered promises, his heavy breaths and grunts, his hands tracing the goosebumps of my skin, his tongue on my—
Heat rushes to the south of my body and my face. He breaks the hug to have a good look at my face and fucking laughs at my state.
I suppress my smile and slap on his buff chest. "Now if you are done thinking about obscene things then let's go I have something to show you." he covers my eyes and starts guiding me through the hallway.
"Nomjoon I don't think covering my eyes is necessary."
"Shh. Ofcourse it is. Just walk." We enter and stop in I suppose the living room.
"Okay now, ready?" He finally says.
"Yes!"
He removes his hand and back hugs me while I open my eyes taking in the view of the living room. I gasp at the beautiful set-up he arranged, a canopy decorated with tiny fairy lights and cushions scattered under it and my favorite duvet.
He set the dinner table with plates and my favorite food, a bottle of red wine and glasses sitting next to them. Bunch of scented candles here and there, radiating warmth and light in the darkest of corners just like he fills my life, my soul, with his presence.
"Happy birthday, baby."
The pressure builds behind my eyes and in my throat constricting my words. I blink a few times to drive out the moisture in my eyes.
He settles his chin on my shoulder maybe waiting for me to say something but I'm speechless at his gesture.
"You like it?"
Like? "I love it, Namjoon. All this... It's so beautiful." my voice shakes with emotions.
"Thank you. So much. This is perfect." he turns me towards him, "glad you love it."
I lace my hands on his neck, raise on my tip-toes to make up for our height difference, and lock my lips with his soft ones. He sucks in a breath and yanks me flushed against him to deepen the kiss. His sweet taste invade my tongue.
Namjoon groans, and his hand fist the locks of my hair. His lips glide on mine and our chests glued to each other running out of oxygen. He brushes his lips against mine one last time. Breaking the kiss before it gets heated and we end up in the bed like always.
"I love you," I say in a daze.
"I love you." He says back his eyes gleaming in the candlelight and his face glowing with a golden tint. He is fucking perfect. He completes me. Every crevice in my life. We complete each other.
We sat at the table for our evening candlelight dinner. He opened the wine bottle with the cork opener and poured the content, an action that had no right to be that sexy.
"Enjoying the show?" he raises an eyebrow at me.
I hide my smile behind the glass. "Hmm, maybe." I sip the rich red liquid while soaking in the hard work he put into all this. "How did you do all this on your own? How long was I in there, four hours?"
He rasps out a laugh. "One hour. You were in there for one hour, thank god i completed it way before you walking in on me trying really hard to figure out how the hell am i supposed to hang that thing." He gestures towards the dreamy canopy. I would have loved watching him do that.
"Do you know what the most shocking part is? I didn't break anything today." He jokes. "Wow, that's a new record. I'm impressed, Mr. Kim." Our chatter and laughter mingles with the cozy air around us. We finish off what I call, the best meal I had in a long time. He sang me the birthday song while I cut the cake, his goofy playful side returning to him.
These are the little moments I treasure the most in our relationship. No grand gestures, no phones, no office talk, just us. I'll never be tired of this. Of him.
We settle ourselves under the canopy net after dinner. He brought his laptop to watch some k-drama or a movie. "Decided what you want to watch?" he asks me. "Yeah. Since today is Monday I think the new episode of the one we were watching is out by now. I'm so excited to watch that only three episodes are left."
We cuddle under the duvet. I feel safest and comfortable when he cuddles up and grips his arms around my tummy.
His chest moves subtly against my back. I feel every rumble in his torso when he laughs at something comedic. I barely pay attention to the drama. I miss reading the subtitles when the main character said something important about the story. I rewind the scene, "sorry I missed what he said."
He hums and kisses on top of my head. The scene replays but I get distracted yet again when my husband ran his hand on my stomach to my hip, giving it a squeeze before resting it there.
Well, this was not the first time. It is almost normal now. Almost, because every time he gets my mind fogged up.
I replay the scene again this time without saying anything and he too stays quiet. His hand grazes the texture of my dress, resting right on the curve of my thigh.
My mind is blank. Laser focused on his touch. And for the third time, I watch the same thing.
Great. Fucking great. I can't even read the damn subtitles.
"Can't read the subtitles, honey?" he reads my thought in a subtle mocking tone above my ear and my chest tightens.
"He is... talking too fast it's impossible to read that much within seconds." I justify after clicking pause on the screen. He hums in response in a way of saying, 'yeah right'. Not buying any shit. "What? unlike you, I have to pay attention to both the subtitles and the scenes."
Of course, living with him I have improved my Korean but I am not perfect at it.
He chuckles in his deep voice which always sinks into my heart, as deep as it is. "He barely said ten words." And just like that, I'm caught. Thick silence surrounds us, turning up the anticipation.
His lips skim over my neck. I am quiet but the sounds of our breathing fill the air.
He kisses the soft spot on my neck while his hand moves further to the hem of my dress. It takes him no time to find out that I'm already wet for him because I skipped wearing my underwear.
I exhale sharply when his cold fingers swipe between my folds. He groans in my neck, "Fuck. No underwear?" His voice is strained and breathy sending a shiver down my body. "There is no point in wearing one." I manage between my pants and focus back on his fingers working in the slowest circles.
"You're gonna kill me if you keep saying things like that so innocently."
I turn towards him to meet his mouth with mine. He props himself over me. His tall frame consumes my short one. His warmth radiates in the deepest of my soul, renewing it.
He takes away his fingers and I almost cry at the loss of contact. I whimper between our kisses. Namjoon kissed me the same as he fucks me, rough with a burning passion. Claiming me all over again.
"Take this off." He commands tugging on the cloth and making me sit. I collect my hair to side them and he took the hint to unzip me. He drags the zipper down taking his sweet time, his way of saying- you're not getting what you crave so easily.
In a quick slide, the dress comes off leaving me naked and at his mercy. The fact that I am completely bare before him and he is still in his clothes is so unfair and a fucking turn-on. I can feel myself dripping down. We haven't even started yet.
My eyes flicker down to his pants a huge bulge down his waist. I palm his erection and rub it until his breaths become short and fast. I fumble with the button and the zip to free him.
In a quick movement, he pins my hand above my head making me lay down on my back. The light from the fairy light makes his eyes glimmer. He stares down at me and I can feel the love he holds for me. A love without judgments and conditions.
"Today is all about you."
We exchange a smile. He peppers open mouth kisses on my chest. My heart thumps louder between my lungs. His tongue smooths over my skin offering my breasts his much-needed attention. His tongue flicks, licks, and laps on my hardened nipples making me moan, and giving me intense pleasure in every way possible. His hand made up for the other one twisting it between his fingers.
He reaches to my belly unhurriedly caressing the goosebumps. Sending a buzz of electricity in my body. Every touch, every caress is always filled with possession and lust.
He moves further down stopping just above the part of me begging for his touch. He lifts his head to look at me with a devilish glint.
"Click on the play button." He says.
"What?" I blurt out loudly, it sounds funny. I would have laughed at myself but I decide not to. His smile gets wider.
"Just do what I say, Y/N."
My heart will do anything he says if he takes my name in such a way. I click play and the scenes continue. I look back at him and raise my eyebrows at him to say something that's going on in his wicked mind. But instead of any explanation, he dips his head between my legs and I watch his tongue poke out to flick on my clit sending a jolt of electricity in me. He cursed under his breath when he watched how i reacted.
"You take your eyes off the screen, I take my tongue off of your sweet little pussy." He pins me with a playful look.
"But that isn't fair." My voice wavers.
"It... is" between his words, he licks a thick strip with his tongue from my wet entrance to the sensitive apex with a torturous slow speed and my mind staggers in response.
With hooded eyes I watch his beautiful lips curve up in a smirk as if he can see through my poor soul, what effect that action had in my mind, clear as a sky and the sun of reasoning clouded in an instant.
Well, he will always know what effect he has on me. Also, the sight of his face- with that wicked gleam in his eyes- between my legs, I can't expect anything else.
And I lay in a frenzy no longer able to decide what's fair and what isn't, all I wanted was his tongue on me for a lot longer than it just was.
He tips his head towards the laptop silently commanding me to focus my eyes on it, knowing me very well that I won't argue anymore.
I do what he said. Now, all I can feel is his tongue lapping on the sensitive skin making my whole body shudder and moan under his spell. He pushes one finger inside me. Perfect pressure against my walls. The sensation runs through me like an electric current. Heighten every nerve ending on its way.
The power of a slowly building orgasm force my head to watch what he's doing to me and when I turn, his sharp eyes are already watching me like a hawk.
He stops.
He fucking stopped. All that I was just feeling ruined like a sand castle in a wind. A useless heap of sand was all that was left.
"Need another chance, baby?" he speaks up cheekily. I am mad. Annoyed. It probably shows on my face because he rasps out a laugh looking at me. I will keep this in mind when he is at my mercy.
"Yes."
Yes is all I can say. He resumes working on my pussy after I avert my eyes to the screen barely paying attention to the story. The tip of his tongue flicks on my swollen nub and my hands clutch on the cushion for my dear life. Head trying to stay put.
Soon he adds a second finger and then a third while sucking on my clit. Speeding up and edging me towards oblivion. My breathing is harsh, familiar feeling lingering at the base of my spine.
Long gone the soft moans, and screams of pleasure left my throat. My eyes flutter close on their own.
"Eyes on me now." His voice laced with pure lust and... Oh God, the contact of his heated gaze tips me off the edge. And I come. Hard. While chanting his name and whispering how good he makes me feel. Free falling into bliss.
"That's it. Good girl." He wisphers lowly with a strained voice. My body mourns the loss of his fingers. He looks at me and licks his fingers clean, tasting me. God, this man will be the death of me.
I pant, my chest falls and rises dramatically to catch my breath. It feels like I was drowning and I just made it to the surface.
He closes the laptop with a flip. I'm still in a trance when I hear the clank of his belt. I watch him settling between my legs, opening his button and zipper to free himself from the constraint. Pushing his pants slightly down. My fingers clutched his soft hair. My heart skips a couple of beats waiting and eager for him, banging on my ribs trying to leap out.
He placed the tip of his hard cock ready to be inside me but still not giving in, making me whimper. He kisses me, burning with desire, silent permission for carrying on what we started. He pauses to look me in the eye.
"How do you want me, hm? Gentle... or do you want me to fuck you hard?"
My breath got stuck somewhere in my lungs. Without breaking the trance of his gaze, I snake my hand down to hold his cock, pushing just the tip inside me. "Fuck me. Harder." I say, earning his amused-proud smile.
He sits upright and lifts my right leg to anchor it on his broad shoulder. He pushes inside me completely, inch by inch with a steady pace. It warms my heart that even if i gave him permission to be rough with me he knows It always takes me time to adjust to his sheer size. Both of us moan because of how fucking good it makes us feel. Bodies shuttering as he finally moves once i am ready.
This time he thrusts so hard it knocks the air out of my lungs. His hand trails up my stomach to my breasts, pinching my hard sensitive nipple making me cry out his name.
"Tell me, still think the things we do are boring?" He wraps his hand around my neck with a firm delicious pressure while the other one plays with my breast.
I shake my head unable to voice out coherent words. All I can do is float in the magic he creates. I reach out for him but he is a bit far. He slows down and frees my legs and guides my arms around his neck to be closer to me. He kisses me as if it has been days without it, picking up the pace where he left off.
He is still clothed. The picture of his clothed body over my naked one doing the most intimate things is erotic to me.
Though I want to touch him. Feel him. Closer than we already are. My hands fly toward the buttons of his shirt. Undoing each one of them until my hands find their home.
His muscles ripple and his body shudders when I drag my touch slowly to the south. Feeling every curve of his criminally toned body, finally reaching his ass to feel the intensity of his thrusts. He groans out a curse.
"See what you fucking do to me? You make me so impatient, can't even wait to undress before I fuck my wife's tight pussy."
He slams inside me with immense force. I sob hearing him say these things with such ease. No holding back. His dark side resurface with teasing words laced with sin itself, pouring out of his smart intellectual mouth. It always leaves me in awe.
"Namjoon..." I can't recognize my voice as I moan his name breathlessly.
"I'm so– so close, please." Tears leave my eyes as the plea leaves my lips. His thrusts become more rough and harder. His fingers reach my clit. Firm strokes and overstimulation finally cracks through me. i surrender to the climax for the second time this evening. I lost my count for the day as our morning started early today.
"I've got you. I've always got you, baby."
My walls squeeze him tight. He grunts with every jerk. With a louder moan he finishes and empties himself inside me. I love watching him loose control, how his beautiful face twists while he gives in to the pleasure. The way his heavy breaths fall on my skin. It makes my heart swell to watch him like that. A sheen of sweat makes him sparkle. Both our bodies limp as the energy drains out along with our shattering orgasms.
He pulls out and lays beside me. He grabs a tissue and gently cleans up the hot mess we made. He always insists on doing that even after my half hearted protests.
Securing his strong arms around me he brings me closer to his heaving chest. "Tired?" He asks in a whisper while kissing lightly on my shoulder.
I weekly nod to answer. "Really? I was thinking of another round," he says and we laugh wrapped into each other, both knowing that none of us barely have the energy left to move.
"Enough orgasms for today, Mr. Kim." I mumble. I turn towards him to hug him properly. The back rubs, his breathing and the beats of his heart makes my body relax without any effort.
"So how was your birthday?" his chest vibrates with his question.
I place a kiss on his heart and with a satisfied smile I answer, "The best I ever had."
• Author's note
~ Written by @covertlydark
Hope you like it. Do tell me in the comments if this gave you butterflies lol... or you know somthin' close to it. <3
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Wolves of Greed
Part 1. The Sheep Skin
They will come to you in cloth of sheep, but from within they are the wolves of greed.
The literal translation from ancient greek of Matthew 7:15
N. Index
I. Losing Rose-Tinted Glasses
II. The Illusion of Choice
III. The Emotional Morning
IV. The First Seance of Nonconformism
V. Salem
VI. The Aftermath of Fester Addams
VII. The Ravensdale Camp
VIII. The Kidnapping
IX. Truths and Lies of Owen Sinclair
X. The Roadtrip
XI. Playing Games
XII. The Suit for Vigilante
XIII. Smuggling Operations
XIV. The Feral Alert
XV. One Day of Forensic Photographer
XVI. Cry Uncle
XVII. The Choice
XVIII. Big Brother's Insights
XIX. Murdered Hopes of Joel Glicker
XX. The Unlikely Friendship
XXI. Don't Touch What's Mine
XXII. Not So Ordinary Wednesday
XXIII. The Parents' Day, Year One
XXIV. The Furs' Protection
XXV. The Nevermore Quad Fight
XXVI. Boston Holidays
XXVII. New Happy Tree Friends
XXVIII. The Lack of Reciprocity
XXIX. The Help of Understanding
XXX. The Supernatural Creatures Care Club
XXXI. School Days
XXXII. The Sheriff's Kid Full of Greed
XXXIII. The Not So Little Furry Problem
XXXIV. Tricks of the Cannibal Raven
XXXV. The Cleansing Agent
XXXVI. The Future Lost
I. Losing Rose-Tinted Glasses
Enid was waiting for her sixth birthday with great joy and energetic annoyance to everyone around.
Her eldest brother recently turned twelve, and on his birthday they went to the Muir Woods, to the usual camp of the San Francisco Pack, to celebrate with the whole pack and be closer to nature so that the young werewolf turned. At that time, Enid did not know all the details, but she really enjoyed spending time with the other children, that's why she asked her mother, Esther for the repeat.
She, surprisingly, agreed.
Years later, Enid realized what caused her consent.
Austin Sinclair, the oldest brother, didn't turn at twelve, but Esther Sinclair read all the necessary brochures to speed up the turning process and decided to follow one of the tips.
A young werewolf needs diverse interaction with peers and elders, and due to the fact that Austin did not turn until the age of twelve, she decided to add such interaction with the help of a rather conflictual gathering of the whole pack. And it seemed conflict-based even when it was without the participation of teenagers and children.
And what if not a bunch of hormonal teenagers, children with propellers in their asses and a general lack of a criticism filter against each other, could provoke a boy to turn?
Austin turned right in the middle of a werewolf croud, right during a scuffle with one of the teenagers who had already turned. And who decided to have fun at and even suggested that Austin is the late bloomer.
Austin turned and became the first pack alpha in his generation.
All attention turned to the boy, congratulations poured out like cornucopia of sorts. And obviously, everyone forgot about little Enid, even the rest of the brothers. It was new for them, as well as for Enid herself, but she was always quite emotional and sensitive.
Mom often pursed her lips and noted with a dismissive snort that these were the traits of the future omega of the pack. Murray, the father, always shrugged his shoulders at this and seemed to be showing that there was nothing terrible about it, even if you were the omega of the pack, but preferred to keep quiet.
Enid didn't want to be the omega of the pack even when she didn't quite understand what it was.
The understanding that being the pack omega is not the worst thing, came with time.
She remembered later that she had run away from the jubilant loud gathering, depressed and splashing emotions, all in tears because everyone had forgotten about her, and she hadn't even received her promised cake, nor had she received any gifts. These moments, small and even stupid, have not been forgotten for a very long time, although they have lost their sharpness, of course.
Enid turned ten minutes later than her eldest brother.
A couple of hours later, she was found by Owen Sinclair, a distant relative and former member of the pack, a lone wolf that Enid had never heard of before his introduction and attempts to calm her down. If it hadn't been for her heightened senses and certain traits that could only be discovered by a werewolf who turned, she would never have believed his story.
After all, when Enid was six years old, no one thought of scaring her that she would become a lone wolf and leave the pack if she didn't turn. The maximum of her fears was, as already mentioned, to become the omega of the pack, a kind of fool to be ordered around, as she understood it. Even for such a straightforward and assertive woman as Esther, it turns out there were limits to what was reasonable or not.
Enid didn't know at that time that you could be kicked out of the pack simply because, in theory, for biological reasons of your turning, you could challenge the right to the power of the pack alpha. And if you do not transfer power over yourself, do not obey, want to remain equal, then this "could be kicked out" turns into "definitely kicked out and deprived of your last name."
Such utter betrayal was new to Enid.
Owen asked to be called uncle and was surprisingly helpful when the girl turned into a human form and whimpered softly from the pain of the first turn, feeling every blade of grass and pebble on her heated and overly sensitive body. After she recovered a little, he told her the whole thing. As soon as her head cleared a little, Enid started asking questions. Why he told her all this was the first question.
Owen grinned, without malice but also without joy, smoothed Enid's disheveled hair, adjusted the blanket she was covered with, and lifted her by the armpits to the level of the side mirror of his pickup truck.
The scarlet sparks still lingered in her eyes.
Enid felt overwhelmed with emotions again, tears rolled up to her throat, and soreness in bones, joints and muscles added reasons to burst into wailing, but the man gently shook her, put her on the ground and looked into her eyes.
His pupils lit up with the same scarlet sparks as hers, but it was clear that he was letting them glow, and they were not doing it themselves without his knowledge.
This made little Enid hold her breath and stretch out her palm in an attempt to find support in the older werewolf. Her emotions were still getting the upper hand.
Owen gave her his palm and in a gentle tone began to explain to her the way to control these sparks. And the transformation. And her emotions.
Three hours flew by unnoticed, as if in a fog.
It was only later, years later, that Enid realized it was the alpha's power. That's how he gave her some of his knowledge so that she could hide her turning from her mother, father and brothers. They were insanely happy because of the presence of the next pack alpha in the family. That's how Owen made her not be gullible and childishly prattle everything to the family on the same day, as it would be logical for a child who still believed his parents, even though offended. That's how she, under the pretence of interest in the new status of her elder brother, asked all the adults available for conversation about what would happen if another alpha of the pack suddenly appeared. That's how she managed to ask her brother to show her the half-turn of the eyes.
That's how Enid realized that Owen Sinclair wasn't lying to her.
The next time they met was six years later, on her own twelfth birthday. Her parents let Enid go into the woods, hoping that there would be no problems with her - just as there were no problems with the other brothers, Brandon, Colin and Dylan. Each of the brothers, except Austin, were beta wolves and turned on the night of their twelfth birthday.
The same was expected of her.
Every full moon of the previous six years, she got out of her house to be closer to the moon, but did not give free rein to transformation - this was Owen's knowledge, developed over decades. Every full moon, she did not allow herself to turn, so that she would not be kicked out of the family - the laws of the pack have not changed since Owen. She was sure, she checked. Even though emotions still took over sometimes and she wanted to loosen control and stop torturing herself.
On the night of her twelfth birthday, when she was left alone in the forest, as it traditionally happened to everyone before her, Owen offered his support and help, said that even if she would be kicked out, she would have a place in his family. He was not as lonely as the stories of other relatives about lone wolves painted it. He had a wife, the witch of one of the psychic clans, it seemed. As Enid understood from his meager explanations. And he sincerely claimed that there was simply no difference between the Mates of werewolves and how he felt about the witch. Enid had doubts, not about his love for the witch - it was not for her to talk about matters of heart, she could not have an opinion on this, and she accepted Uncle Owen's version without much resistance. Enid was doubtful about their ability to provide for another growing and demanding werewolf - as Enid understood from his stories, Owen had his own twins much younger than Enid herself, who had yet to turn for the first time. And he didn't say much about the identity of his wife. All this together has become decisive for determining future actions, to some extent.
Enid couldn't risk her future like that.
Enid was persistent and stubborn, as alphas should be, which Uncle Owen noticed with a grin when she made her decision and informed him. And there was no taking that away from her.
That is why her decision to continue pretending was not revoked even when she realized the depth of contempt and neglect from her mother and even brothers that this decision brought.
Enid preferred to endure, realizing that it was still better than completely losing the opportunity to finish school and make friends with other outcasts, to find herself for hell's sake! Enid was jealous of her brothers when they were sent to Nevermore, and she definitely didn't want to say goodbye to such an opportunity without even trying.
Her position in the San Francisco Pack didn't mean that things would be the same in Nevermore. There, her turning situation will not be as important, and she will be able to surround herself with outcasts of various species and characters.
Enid understood that this was a postponement of the inevitable, yes. But during all this time of bullying, teasing and outright pressure that piled on her, she changed her mind about wanting to be in the pack. Fundamentally changed.
Enid cooled down to any attempts by relatives to urge her to respect the Sinclair leagcy, controlled any attempts by the inner wolf to get out and show primacy, which led to control over emotional outbursts that could lead to the wolf breaking out. By fifteen, Enid knew all her weaknesses and triggers, felt when it was better to close her eyes and when the inner wolf began to feel and act for her.
Enid gave herself free rein only in this small, if compared with what could have been, of course, uprising in the form of bright colors in clothes and decor - it was not wolfish in the slightest and irritated both narrow-minded brothers and mother as much as possible.
After the domestic torment of trying not to give herself away, the room in Nevermore was simply paradise. Without a roommate and without any obligation to visit the local containment cells - after all, Enid was not officially capable of turning. Within the room, Enid could even turn at the full moon and curl up on the bedsheets. The mentoring of another alpha, and such a detailed one, which began with that very "unsuccessful" twelfth birthday, aside for those few hours in early childhood, helped a lot with such antics.
By the time she entered Nevermore, Enid was convinced that she did not need such a pack as it was. That's why every quarrel with her mother over her non-turning was not something traumatic or deserving of special attention.
Enid knew her own worth.
And she knew that there's always a price.
***
If anyone thought to ask Enid Sinclair what exactly was the most important turning point in her life, she would have answered something like "Nevermore admission."
And then she would smile brightly so that what she said seemed truthful.
No one asked Enid such questions, so the honest answer would be something like this. The most important day in her life happened when she turned six, and her eldest brother turned for the first time.
That day Enid got lost in the woods and lost her rose-tinted glasses forever.
Next chapters on AO3
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Happy Birthday, Jason Todd!
And on that note, I would like to show my appreciation to a wonderful RP partner of mine - who also happens to be portraying an amazing Jason Todd - @tireironmybeloved. We haven't known each other very long but when you click with a RP partner, you just feel it~
I hope we'll get to write many more stories and verses together, and may our Dick and Jason always get into plenty of shenanigans and be up to no good together! ✨
You can regard this post as standalone Jason birthday piece ofc, no obligation to reply.
Dick fishes his phone out of his jacket's pocket, clicking the power button to turn on the screen, and glances at the time for about the fifth or sixth time in the last five minutes.
11:50 PM. Good.
There were still a couple more minutes; he just hoped Jason wasn't going to be late.
He sighs impatiently as he shoves his phone back into the pocket of his dark bomber jacket, reaching to straighten his deep V-neck undershirt by its hems.
The view from this rooftop wasn't the most gorgeous one, considering the building was stuck in the middle of Crime Alley, but one could see the city skyline from afar and the several skyscrapers dotting its scape. It was late at night, and the light pollution was not as bad as it usually was during the earlier hours of the evening; you could even see several stars dotting the dark sky above.
Then again, Gotham always had some smog to it; it's what gave it its very noir charm.
Dick would have asked to meet Jason somewhere higher, or somewhere more extravagant. He wanted to celebrate the man for all he deserved, for everything that he meant to him, but both of them knew it would jeopardize their deep undercover mission. They just had the perfect timing, didn't they? Dick's fingers itch to check the time on his phone again, and he's pretty sure it hasn't been even a minute. He continues pacing back and forth, a pep in his step as he does, his stride quick, and his expression impatient.
The fingers of his other hand messed with the handles of a gift bag, which is rather large in size yet doesn't sound as full as its contents rattle around.
It was only when the door to the roof opened that Dick finally halted, a beaming, radiant smile of joy pulling at his lips as he looked at Jason stepping through the threshold of the staircase leading up to the rooftop story. "Hey," he greets, staying in place as a silent offer to come to him instead of the other way around.
"I... Know this is silly. You don't like any grandiose gestures or parties packed with people and all that; in general, I know the subject of your birthday is a touchy one." As far as Dick remembers, Jason never enjoyed celebrating his birthday all that much. Then again, memory may serve him wrong—he hasn't been there for most of his birthdays, after all. "I believe everyone deserves to have their special day celebrated. Especially you. So, um..." Hesitating for only a moment, Dick reaches inside the bag and pulls out a small, pink-covered new book with the title '100 Love Sonnets / Cien Sonetos De Amor by Pablo Neruda', a little red bow glued to the front cover, and holds the book in both his hands.
"I admit I am not as big of a reader as you are, but I found this book and browsed through it a little, and I hope you'll like it. I thought I'd give you a little preview, if you allow me." He looks at Jason with a coy smile, as if asking permission to proceed. Being given just that, he turns to the book again, opens it on a page he had marked earlier with a folded note, and clears his throat before reading:
" I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love as certain things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,
so I love you because I know no other way.
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. "
Done reciting, he closes the book again, letting a moment of silence linger as he stares at the cover. "... I hope you know this is just the tip of the iceberg of how much you mean to me, Jay. I hope that we will get to celebrate many more birthdays together, privately or otherwise. You deserve to be celebrated, and I am happy to be the one who celebrates it with you today. I am happy that you are in my life, and so much more than that." He concludes with a tender, loving smile, before it quickly changes to a surprise.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" He quickly hands the book to Jason before reaching back into the bag and taking out a small box from a local patisserie. "Close your eyes; no peeking!" He urges the other man with a giddy tone.
Dick instructs Jason to open his eyes again, after you could hear the man shuffling things about and struggling with what sounded like trying to light a lighter, and reveals a small pile of gooey, dark chocolate brownies with a large, J shaped candle lit atop of them, holding the box in both his hands for Jason. Dick's phone silently vibrated in his pocket, a set alarm.
00:00, August 16th.
"Happy Birthday, Little Wing." He murmurs softly, his face illuminated by the light of the single candle, emphasizing the affectionate, wide smile. "Make a wish."
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How did everyone celebrate Timothy’s first birthday with the rest of the family?
I really liked this question! (it will be a long answer)
Timothy's birthday is in early spring, so it should be in March. And since all the events of "Unstoppable" happened in mid-spring, it would mean that it would be almost a year since Tim found "Dark Orchid" at his base.
Now, the first birthday.
Oh, Gosalyn would be on edge, wanting it to be the best birthday for Timothy, even going so far as to work late to make sure there weren't any important missions or robberies to distract her that day.
Max would be looking at recipes to make the best cake for the kid, even asking Launchpad and Goofy for help, since their cooking skills were still unsurpassed.
Drake would also be the same as his daughter. Nervous, wanting to get the best gift for his first grandchild, feeling the same nerves he felt when he celebrated Gosalyn's first birthday. And it didn't help if Fenton, in his eagerness to help his friend, suggested a Gizmoduck toy. The Mallard would growl at him for such a suggestion, making him uncomfortable.
Negaduck… would be normal. Not anxious or anything, although by that time he would have "accepted a little" the Pet. But he would notice uncomfortably as Gosalyn planned a schedule with sheets on the wall of his house (not her apartment, but HIS house) to ensure that she had the best plan possible. Invite Timothy's little friends, buy inflatable games, decorations…
The villain would have to patiently stop his Baby Girl, pointing out if she asked the Pet what he wanted.
If the brat would be comfortable with something so ostentatious.
…Gosalyn would notice that he had a point, and that it was obvious that he already knew Tim, annoying the villain.
Gosalyn and Max would ask Launchpad to ask Tim sneaky questions, so the kid wouldn't become suspicious of the party.
And after a "sneaky" conversation between the pilot and his little friend, Launchpad would point out to the young couple that Tim HAS NO IDEA what a birthday party is like. The boy has not celebrated his last three birthdays. The last one (the sixth) he "celebrated" by stealing a piece of cake from a shop, around the time he had escaped from Mortimer.
Yes, Tim has seen and participated in the rest of the family's birthday parties this past year, but he had no idea what parties are like for kids his age. That's why he hadn't even accepted the birthday invitations from his classmates, because he didn't know if those children's parties were fun, and he preferred to be with his parents.
"…I'm going to kill Mortimer," Gosalyn would growl, still wondering WHY she hadn't done it yet.
"And although that is very tempting, it is still illegal" Max would tell her, agreeing with her, but being the one who thinks more calmly.
With that information, Gosalyn would make a decision.
She would discard the previous ideas, and decide that the party would be a family one. Not so ostentatious, because the little mouse was not yet used to that. Tim liked spending time with his new family, so she would do what the boy wanted (as Papa Wolf suggested).
And since the kid liked to camp… Gosalyn would accept the sacrifice of camping that weekend, without internet, without electricity, without ordinary comforts. Yup, all for her kid.
The party would be like this, camping, and it would be a big surprise for Tim, who had been so excited about the idea of camping, that he hadn't realized that that weekend was going to be his birthday.
The kid would be HAPPY and SURPRISED to see the cake that Max, Uncle LP and Grandpa Goofy made for him. He would also be surprised (Gosalyn would be too) by Grandpa DW's gift from him, which would be a pocket switch.
That switch was made between Darkwing and Gizmoduck, and was ONLY for emergencies. If Tim pressed it, both heroes would receive a signal and immediately go to the location where the boy was.
"I don't know what surprises me more: that you worked with Gizmoduck on a gift, or that you didn't give Tim something with your face on it," Gosalyn would say to her father with amusement, offending him.
But Drake wouldn't be angry, as Tim would give him a big hug, happy, saying that this way he could receive help from the best hero of all right away.
Drake would smile, extremely proud and vain.
Gosalyn and Max would give the boy something more appropriate for his age: a bicycle. And that would also make Tim very happy… even though he still couldn't reach the pedals, offended that he was still so short.
This would be the kid's first birthday.
Oh, and if you ask about Negaduck.
It has been confirmed that the villain is not one for celebrating birthdays, nor for outings like that, so he would not go that weekend (although he would make sure that there was no criminal to ruin the peace of his Baby Girl)
Of course, Gosalyn would find among the birthday things a yellow package with a black ribbon, which did not belong to anyone.
Smiling at how socially awkward Negaduck was, Gosalyn would hand the gift to the surprised Tim…
What would the villain give the Pet "that he still doesn't accept"? I'll leave it to your imagination.
Gosalyn would make sure to save a piece of cake for her Papa Wolf, happy to see how Timothy enjoyed his first birthday as Goof-Mallard.
And that is^^
#darkwing duck#gosalyn#gosalyn mallard#drake mallard#negaduck#rebellingstagnationblog#geronimoseries#geronimo#quiverwing quack#ao3 fanfic#launchpad mcquack#launchpad#max goof#goofy#goofy goof#goof troop#darkwing duck oc
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Happy New Year! Rambles
Happy Solar New Year, and welcome to 2024! We're a few days in and I hope everyone is having a good year so far. I hosted a small, overnight mingle with some friends so I thought I'd share a recipe I found that absolutely slapped.
It's weird to think about, but New Years is one of those holidays that everyone in just about every culture celebrated in some way, but how and when varied wildly. This is because, until recently, different areas and cultures had different calendars. Ancient Egypt were the first to figure out the year should have 365 days, but they had three seasons, and a kind of limbo month of 5 days in case they need to extend the year (Leap year) The Start of their year was on our July 19th, when Sirius returned and the Nile flooded. This is good for crop growing.
Many people think the Ancient Romans were the ones to make our Modern calendar, mainly because the months are named in honor of Roman Gods. Plus there's the story of Julius Caesar creating an entire month and naming it after himself (July) is so well known. But, another Emperor, Augustus Caesar, also named a month after himself. Though to his credit, he just renamed an already existing month 'Sextillia' (Meaning Sixth). People think it's crazy to just add another month like that, but the last month for the Romans basically lasted for as long as they needed it to.
The new year for the Ancient Romans was on March 1st, where they honored Mars, God of War. Then Julius changed it to January 1st, Honoring Janus the God of Time. Eventually, Rome converts to Christianity, and the new year is now about Fasting and Prayer and fun stuff like that. It remains on Jan 1st and Honored Mary, until a while later it's decided that date is too pagan and they move it to December 25th. Celebrating the New Year with the Birth of Christ makes much more sense. Except, they run into a little problem where either the year runs short, as December doesn't have enough days, or we confusedly end the year AND start it....in December. Plus not many people knew of the change and didn't celebrate the new year. So after a while, they switched it back to January 1st.
Finally, in 1582, the Gregorian calendar was released. This is the Calendar we still use today, and despite your feelings on the religion that made it, it is the most accurate Calendar we humans have ever made. The year officially started January 1st. But a lot of people across Europe didn't adopt this calendar. Most people stuck to when spring time happened, around late March Early April, to celebrate the new year. It wasn't until the mid 1700s when Britain started expanding colonies into the new world that the push for everyone to adopt the Gregorian Calendar was made. This shift is why we have April Fools as people still celebrating the new year in April were called Silly or Foolish.
But people still celebrate OTHER new years. People in Mexico will still celebrate the Aztec New Year on March 12th. In Many Hindu communities, Diwali is considered the New Year. It date changes each year, but tends to happen in October. And then there's the Widely know Lunar New year. Celebrated across many Asian cultures and can be a massive celebration. More so than the Solar New year in some cases. The date also changes, but happens some time between end of January to start of February. Fun fact, if you are checking out your Chinese Zodiac and are born in January or Early February, you should check when the Lunar New year started the year you were born. So if you were born in the year of the Rabbit but your birthday is January 3rd; that means the new year of the Rabbit hasn't started yet and you should reference the Previous year, year of the Tiger, for your Horoscope.
Wow that turned into a weird ramble. Long story short; These crock pot noodles were good!
#food and folklore#witch#kitchen witch#folklore#folktale#kitchen witchcraft#New Year#January#Rome#ancient egypt#chinese zodiac#New year history#klickwitch#january 1#Gregorian
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Nona the Ninth, Chapter 6
(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For detail on The Locked Tomb coverage and the index, read this one!)
(Sixth House icon) In which Nona gets a bedtime story.
Pyrrha works late that night because of work disruptions caused by disagreements over whether the militia or the government are paying for the demolition she's on. Nona overhears a man at the dairy(1) grumbling about how at least with the Houses, you knew who was paying you so you got paid. He and another man ask what Nona thinks, and she says she just wants Pyrrha to get paid so she can get a birthday present. They each give her a coupon for a coffee, laughing, Nona's excited not sure why they laughed.
At home, Nona asks if Cam will read to her while she's in the bath. Cam agrees, and asks if Nona would want to leave here, live on a farm with her and Pyrrha and Pal. Nona says she loves it here, but she might love a new home, too, though she's suspicious. Then Cam asks if there's anything Nona isn't telling her. The silence goes on embarrassingly long, before Nona says yes. Cam asks if Nona will promise to tell her or Pal if she gets scared about something, or doesn't know what to do. Nona agrees easily to this.
The bath proceeds, and then Cam has hers, and they get into bed, but neither can get to sleep. Cam offers to read some more, but Nona asks for a story, like she used to tell. Cam says Nona hasn't asked for a story in a while, but Nona got embarrassed when Beautiful Ruby made fun of her for getting bedtime stories, and Honesty said loudly that Nona could do kiddie things if she wanted, which implied that Nona "was being an appalling baby."
At any rate, she asks for the story of how they met Nona, since she hasn't heard that one in forever.
Cam starts telling the story, and Nona supplements a line, and Cam asks who's telling the story.(2)
They met Nona when Pal saved her. It was the first time Pal took over Cam's body.
Nona subsided. Camilla said, “It was the first time. He and I … were trying to talk. He was stuck, not having a body that talked. At the time we knew you were in trouble. You’d disappeared. We’d been trying to get you. We found you and Pyrrha. You were hurt. Pyrrha helped us escape from an attack. We lost people. Ships. Something very important.(3) But we got you away, and we wanted to keep you. Other people said no. But you didn’t know what was happening. You weren’t a threat to anyone. Neither was Pyrrha. But not many people believed me, or the Warden. Many people said you were too dangerous.”
It was We Suffer who interceded on Nona and Pyrrha's behalves.(4) Then, Pal wanted to "evoke the break clause" and get his family away from the Houses. Nona only woke up for short periods of time, and couldn't speak yet. Pal convinced the Oversight Body, the whole Sixth House, to join them. Then, Nona woke up and met Cam, and Pal, and Pyrrha. They didn't let her meet many others, then.
Soon, Nona started to learn how to speak and behave, and then things went wrong. The light appeared,(5) and they found out the BOE didn't have the power to protect them after all.(6)
Nona says that was still "the kiddie version". She can understand more, now. Cam acknowledges that, and admits she hasn't practiced an adult version. Nona asks if she can ask questions, and Cam agrees to answers.
Nona wants to know why We Suffer hates Pyrrha. Cam says Pyrrha's best friend killed We Suffer's boss.(7)
Nona asks why they took their families from "the other place" to here. Cam says they didn't feel morally justified in staying where they were.
Nona asks, if she remembers who she is, can she help them?(8) Cam says that's up to her, when she remembers.
Nona's last question is whether their families will like her when they meet her. Cam smiles and says no.(9)
After that, Nona goes to sleep, or thinks she does. She feels at peace, happy despite everything.
Sometimes it was hard not to be happy; sometimes it was so difficult when everyone else had that hard, hurt look at the corners of their eyes that meant they didn’t quite know how to carry on: the men at the dairy, Pyrrha, Palamedes, the nice lady teacher at school, Kevin.(10)
When she was 90 percent asleep, she heard the door very quietly unlatch and close. Then she counted, and at the end of five counts there was Pyrrha at the door saying, “Ah, my darling hearts, my sleeping babes, Daddy’s own treasures,” and Camilla saying without opening her eyes, “Go to bed. I just got her to sleep.”
Nona fell asleep and was happy.
=====
(1) "Dairy" seems to be used in New Zealand much the same as "grocery store" or "supermarket" (or perhaps "bodega" or "corner store"? I'm not TOTALLY clear) are used in North America. I'm not sure what the equivalents are in other countries, but it's a mixed-grocery store, not just for dairy (milk) products, as far as I can tell.
(2) The old familiar routine for anyone telling stories familiar to the listener.
(3) What did they lose?
(4) Fascinating, given that it's also established here that We Suffer kinda hates them, or at least Pyrrha.
(5) Varun the Eater, one assumes.
(6) Protect whom exactly, and from what? Did the BOE make big promises about protecting the Sixth House that they couldn't keep? That seems irresponsible, and explains the line shortly after this about Cam and Pal making promises they couldn't keep either.
(7) G1deon killing Wake.
(8) So, the Sixth House is lost entirely… but MIGHT be found, eventually, somewhere?
(9) Harsh! But it's probably true, isn't it? They value intellect, book smarts, research. We saw a lot of that in the Doctor Sex story by implication.
(10) Nona is burdened with quite a lot of empathy for her fellows. How much of her cheerfulness is an act, how much is it her trying to make people feel better, how much is she really just a silly girl who's only been a girl for six months? Because I get the feeling from observations like this that she understands a lot more than she lets on.
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Hello! I’ve been a fan since I’ve read Wimbledon❤️ it’s my birthday tomorrow and I don’t know if you take any request, but if not, it’s completely alright. Just even a short DR3 fluffy birthday shot, my ex used to forgot my birthday, and I was hoping even at least in fanfic, the reader thought Daniel forgot her birthday because she was used to it with her ex. Please tho, don’t feel obliged. I was just trying my luck. 😉
Happy birthday my dear anon <33
Its short but I do hope you enjoy, also your ex is a dick
Waking up to silence on your birthday was something that you had gotten used to, having done it for the past five years.
Your ex had never failed to forget your birthday and you had trained yourself to mask your disappointment and move on with your day as if it wasn’t an occasion to be celebrated. You had convinced yourself that Daniel would be the same - at least you thought you did - until your heart dropped into your stomach upon waking up to an empty bed.
You once again were reminded of the fact that you should trust your head over your heart no matter the circumstances.
Disappointment was an all too familiar feeling for you and all you wanted to do was curl into bed and cry like you had done the previous years before. After a few moments of staring at the wall in front of you however, you realised that you didn't want this to be your sixth birthday in a row spent crying in bed. No, you would go out and celebrate your birthday yourself. You deserved it.
You refused to let the tears building up behind your eyes to fall down your cheeks, keeping your cool whilst reading the note Dan left behind, informing you that he wouldn't be home until late and to not wait up for him. Pathetic.
A feeling of numbness washed over you while you draped your clothes over your body, intending to treat yourself with breakfast at your favourite cafe and then a shopping spree at the fancy mall across the street, finishing it off with lunch by yourself and maybe a drink or two. If nobody was going to love you on your birthday then you would surely love yourself.
You had actually enjoyed your own company throughout the day and came to the realization that this was much better than sulking at home waiting for Dan to return. You made the decision then and there to break up with the driver. You deserve someone that would remember your birthday, that would go through the effort of making you feel special and spoiling you - not with gifts - but with love. And he had failed to do that.
It was while you were sipping on your first cocktail that your phone began ringing in your pocket. Dan had finally attempted to contact you. “Hello?” you spoke, swirling your straw in your fruity drink as you listened to his reply.
“Hey,” he nervously spoke, “Are you in a bar?” Clearly he was attentive enough to distinguish the loud music in the background but not the day you were born.
“Yep,” you shrugged, “I'm actually having quite a nice time.” You could almost hear him racking his brain for appropriate words on the other end of the line and you wondered what he was so stressed about.
“Can you come home? I think we need to talk,” he questioned. You could now hear him pacing up and down your apartment and the movement of your hand ceased immediately.
“You're right, we do need to talk, I'll see you in ten.” You didn't even bother with a proper goodbye, the blood rushing through your body bringing colour to your cheeks and rage into your eyes. You were furious. You didn't even give yourself enough time to collect your thoughts and plan out what you were going to say (more likely scream) at Dan when you got home.
Before you knew it you were unlocking your front door, your various shopping bags immediately falling to the floor upon seeing the flock of people smiling at you from your front room. Balloons and decorations were scattered around the house, pictures of you with friends, family and mainly of you and Dan hanging from the ceiling. As your eyes scanned the room, you finally let the tears fall onto your cheeks and once you met Daniel's eyes, you began to cry even harder.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered, an apologetic expression crossing his features as he pulled you into his chest. A kiss was placed to the top of your head before words were mumbled against it. “You thought I forgot huh?” he pondered, rocking the two of you from side to side as you continued to admire the decorations and hard work he had put in. A particular picture from your first date caught your eye and your heart fluttered at the loving look he was throwing your way. Of course he didn't forget your birthday.
“I had planned on making you breakfast in bed but then the lady who made your cake called and said to collect it right away, but when i came home you were gone,” he took a deep breath before continuing, his hold on you tightening slightly in fear that you had actually left him and your life together behind. In fear that this was all a dream and his mind was playing cruel, cruel tricks on him.
“I didn't want you to feel lonely again, really it was never my intention. I could tell how upset you were on the phone and god,” he sighed, his teary eyes now meeting your own as you looked up at him, “I never wanted you to feel that way again.”
“You’ve made me feel like the most special girl in the world,” you reassured, your wide smile showing your true feelings through your watery eyes, “I fucking love you.”
“I love you too, pretty girl,” Daniel grinned, throwing a thumbs up behind his back to let everyone around the two of you know things were good.
“Is this why we have no ink left in our printer?”
#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 one shot
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Moments like those were unique with characters from tokyo revengers.
I'm really loving the Tokyo Revengers manga and I couldn't help but write about some characters, when I go later in the manga I will write about even more characters and I hoped to get it right. Take good care of yourselves, drink water and eat well, it is important to.
Anyway Byebye ✨
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➡️Draken | Ken Ryuuguuji
The sun filtered through the window with lilac curtains giving the room a slight glow illuminating the scene within it; a tall young man with blond hair sat on the floor on the black carpet with a noticeably smaller girl behind him.
There was no one else with whom he could let his guard down like this.
Draken despite the cold shower, knowing that he has rested well and that he should not be sleepy, your soft hands combing him make him drowsy, lethargic and with heavy eyelids, he could hardly see your reflection in the mirror in front of him. He, concentrated on his braid and there was nothing better in the world than you being so close that he could feel your warmth, your soft caresses.
With care and gentleness you manage each blonde strand between your fingers, intertwining little by little. You did not see the mirror, they only saw blonde locks that slipped between your fingers, he had beautiful and well-groomed hair. Almost finalizing the braid was when you directed your gaze towards the mirror in front of you; Draken seemed to be nowhere near falling asleep again from the way he nodded slightly.
"Are you sleepy Ryu?"
A denial was the answer clearly but you only laughed at the obviousness of his lie, he was so cute when he was so helpless and vulnerable with you. They were unique moments and by how he snuggled between your legs he said that he only wanted to spend a few more minutes like that, together.
In the morning when even their paths did not separate, Ken Ryuuguuji could allow himself moments of vulnerability where you would cradle him carefully, smiling at all times and he did not need to have his eyes open to know that your face only showed love, he had already gone through a long stage of doubts, denial and self-inflicted pain that knowing who you are, his partner, that you are by his side and that you do not have any doubt in loving him as he is, with everything included only makes him feel more secure. Draken didn't doubt his love for you, he never could.
"I just want to stay like this for a few minutes"
"All you wish Ryuu"
The "I love you" were in the air and were received by both, they knew that love was mutual ...
━━━━
➡️Mikey | Sano Manjiro.
The days you left school were naturally late thanks to the extra classes, the club, and other activities. It was normal to walk through the hallways of the school meeting only a few students from grades above who gave tired greetings, it must be difficult to be anywhere from leaving you assumed.
The silence was comforting as something cold.
Once with your outdoor shoes on, you left school seeing how your boyfriend was on his motorcycle with his cell phone in hand distracted, a clumsy idea emerged from the depths of your head and you executed it without thinking twice; you covered his eyes with your hands feeling the seconds how his hands touched yours, it was difficult to hold the laughter.
Mikey only limited himself to smiling without you seeing him, from the moment he felt your warm presence he knew it was you and only as confirmation the sweet aroma of your perfume invaded the air making it comforting, you were warmth, affection and home. You were so smiling, sweet, attentive and funny that sometimes he thought how you had noticed him.
As if you had a detector for his pessimism, you kissed your boyfriend on the cheek when you discovered his eyes showing your remarkable pout openly.
"You are bad guessing love" you accused fun catching your partner's face in your hands, you held between your little hands a mysterious, beautiful and so enigmatic world called Sano Manjiro "It will be that I am very good and I take you by surprise. What if? "
Mikey could only smile and let himself be carried away by your beautiful voice, you seemed to have a sixth sense for when he was just getting into negative thoughts about his relationship and he felt grateful for it, you were so special and irreplaceable.
"Aha, of course" accepted the blond amused, receiving another kiss with pleasure but this time on the lips. Mikey loved the feel of your smooth lips against his own, he could taste the taste of your gloss directly from your lips and it was the best feeling in the universe. "Come on I'll take you home."
The words died from the moment you got on the motorcycle behind your boyfriend, clinging with both arms to his waist and hiding your face from the wind that you knew would impact on your face that you still did not get used to. The soft roar of the motorcycle lulled you, the aroma of fabric softener, sun and sweets coming from your boyfriend only made you feel even more comfortable that it was inevitable not to rub your cheeks against his back, love overflowed from your heart .
"I love you Manji" you whispered softly, without the intention of making you listen but because of a red light one of Mikey's hands was caressing yours, you knew that he had heard you.
"I love you even more S / o-chan"
The green light on the traffic light sealed the rest of the trip in a pleasant and sweet silence, where they knew they were safe.
━━━━
➡️Hanagaki Takemichi
It was late when they finally managed to get out of the game room, both laughing at monumental losses in silly games but with a more than happy smile on their lips. Takemichi couldn't help but smile and feel the constant pounding on his chest as your fingers were intertwined with his own, it felt good.
"I had a lot of fun today Michi" you said once you were both waiting for the train at the station, your gaze fixed to the front and then looking at your side hoping to find him looking elsewhere but you met his unmistakable bright eyes that made you blush "We should go out like this more often, I say if you don't have more meetings with Touman "
"I think the same! We won't have any meetings at the moment so you will put up with me longer, ”Takemichi joked laughing.
"I like spending time with Takemichi-kun so it wouldn't be to put up with it, it would be spending quality time with my boyfriend"
You refuted by giggling when you heard that he was choking on his own saliva, so you let go of his hand to gently hit his back helping him out of his stupor. Takemichi could only try to stop coughing and when he did he felt you closer, one of your arms behind his back surrounding him and how you leaned against his. It was instinct and perhaps the feelings of him speaking for him since he left a kiss on your head, he could smell the fruity aroma of your shampoo and the unmistakable essence of your perfume.
Little did you know that your Takemichi could only think of a way to save you, never to lose your smile and treasure each new memory.
You were his first and only love ...
━━━━
➡️Atsushi Sendo | Akkun
The journey from his school to your school was about half an hour, but it was worth every tiny second for Atsushi who, like every Friday, had separated from his other friends to pass by you. Even though they had been going out as boyfriends for more than two and a half years, he still felt the nerves all over his body and the butterflies flying in his stomach that multiplied when he saw him leave the main doors laughing at something that your friends said, you looked beautiful with the glow of the sunset making you the center of their world. It was ridiculous how just by seeing you could make him fall in love more. Trying to regulate his nerves I wait for you when he saw you say goodbye to your friends and jog the rest of the way towards him. Was it even allowed to look this good and attractive in a school uniform? He did not know.
"Did you take too long Atsu?" you questioned your boyfriend smiling.
The other people ceased to exist the moment you approached him, the moment he could see your bright eyes and catch the sweet aroma of your perfume in the air.
"Not at all I just arrived a few minutes ago, how was school?"
With a remarkable pout you started with your remarkable anecdote of this day without even knowing that Atsushi was looking at you as if you were hanging the sun, the moon and the stars in the sky. Akkun only listened and commented from time to time, until it was his turn to tell about his day at school. Neither of them noticed when their hands clasped, it was natural.
━━━━
➡️Tachibana Hinata
The dark sky above their heads only gave more seriousness and intimacy at the moment, with her nerves on the surface Hinata could only see how the wind moved your hair and carried in it, the scent of your shampoo or perhaps your perfume. perfume that I gave you on your birthday a year ago?
"The moon is beautiful tonight" you said to the air.
Hinata did not take long to detect the message behind your prayer, endless nights watching k-dramas, anime and watching movies xianxia by your side made her understand the references, she loved how you expressed yourself so casually by dropping messages of your unconditional love.
"If the moon is beautiful S / o"
When Hinata thought that silence would fill the air, your voice was heard again but this time in front of her. Hinata could only swallow hard to see you standing in front of her, so she could see the difference in heights between the two and how the elegant beauty accentuated your being, you were so pretty and attractive that it could not cross her mind that you corresponded her feelings but there they were; in the park late at night on a romantic getaway that consisted of a motorcycle ride and talking in a park where they had confessed.
"But I can't help but think that I'm lucky to be able to call you my girlfriend Nat."
"It is not worth it! You always know what to say and you leave me like a fool in love looking at you. You're unfair S / o-chan! "
Before her words continued Hinata felt your lips brush against hers, your kisses were so soft and gentle that she felt so fragile in your arms, so loved and desired.
"I love you so much Nat"
The kisses continued gentle, soft and in order to communicate love, one more memory that the couple would engrave in her memory.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✨ Here is the end, comments are welcome and if not has in the same way thanks ✨
💕
#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#mikey x reader#draken x reader#Akkun x reader#Takemichi hanagaki x reader#Hinata tachibana x reader#Scenarios#Flulff#To rev#Tv#Tokyo revengers x s/o#Tokyo revengers x y/n
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Four Musketeers pt. 1; One Day
—The One who Never Notices—
Summary: The One who Never Notices. Your first love. Your first pain. Fred Weasley.
Words: 4,405 words
Warnings ⚠ : Just pure, raw angst, heartbreak, one sided relationship (sort of), 3 years of insufferable crush
Disclaimer: It's hard to capture 3 years worth of feelings in words. And I was surprised at it being only 4K, I could've sworn it felt like 7K or something. This is my story, based on my real life pathetic almost-love story, so please enjoy crying :) Listen to One Day too while reading, it's the best song I could find that really described my feelings towards the guy 2 years ago.
TAGLIST FOR FOUR MUSKETEERS: HERE
enjoy!
Loud giggles erupted from upstairs, you softly smiled at the sound of your daughter. Her boyfriend had come over to hang out, and she was smiling the whole day. You then heard the sound of feet stepping down the stairs, peeking your head through the kitchen to see the boy who managed to capture her heart leaving.
"Goodbye!" You bid, the young man turned and smiled politely to you; bidding goodbye as well, and left.
A while later, your teenage daughter, Dian came down; kissing your cheek as she passed you by and went to the fridge.
"That's early of him," You chirped, yet your eyes were still on the halfway sweater you're knitting at your lap. Dian smiled, "Yeah, he had some errands to do. When is Dad coming home again?"
You paused the knitting, looking at your 16-year-old child, "Around Tuesday, I think. Why? You want to sleepover at his house?"
Dian made a disgusted face and laughed, "No, I'm just asking. It's been quite a while since we've had dinner with Dad."
You nodded in understanding, your husband has been busy lately, always Apparating here and there for his job.
"Say, mum," Dian suddenly said. You hummed, the knitting continued. Although you have magic, sometimes you want to do it with your own hands, the calming after effect is just surreal.
"Can you tell me one more time about the Four Musketeers?"
She was now sitting down on one of the stools of the kitchen counter, her palms became the resting place for her chin as her elbows plopped to the surface of the counter. You chuckled in disbelief, "Darling dear, you've heard the story a thousand times now haven't you?"
She whined, "But every time you tell it, there's something new! Oh, come on mum, please!"
You scoffed in disbelief, "And what's with the 'Four Musketeers' name? As far as I remember, those boys are not musketeers." You chuckled.
Dian gave you a toothy grin, "A little nickname won't hurt. They were your high school sweethearts after all."
"Ah, Ah," You wagged a finger before her, "They were not my sweethearts, you know that. They were just... my almost love stories."
Dian rolled her eyes playfully, "Same difference, mum! Come on, tell the story please!"
You sighed, stopping the knit. With a quiet whish of your wand, the knitting equipment cleaned themselves up to the upper cabinet. With another flick of your wand, two cups of tea appeared in front of you, Dian quickly grabbed hers.
"Well, which one do you want to hear first?" You said, lazily smiling at your beautiful daughter. Dian smiled in victory, and quickly said, "From the beginning to the end, please."
You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft smile on your lips, "Oh, alright."
"The One who Never Notices it is."
— Hogwarts, 1991
You were fourteen, he was fifteen.
And at fifteen, Fred Weasley was already famous for being a cheeky prankster along with his twin brother, George. Somehow before that, you've never heard of his name before.
Being so young and naive, his wild personality had attracted your attention. It all started during the joint Potions class between the Fourth Years and the Fifth Years, due to some reasons Professor Snape made that you had no recall of.
You were assigned a temporary seat next to him on the first day of the class, to see the compatibility of the two years together. You were shy and naive, and he was cheeky and friendly.
"Hey, how are you doing? The name's Weasley, Fred Weasley." He said cheerfully with a large smile, his short red hair was heavily distracting, yet you managed to introduce yourself politely; the fear of sitting next to a senior was... big.
That was all you had as a conversation, as Snape rearranged the class back, one side was the Fourth Years, and the Fifth Years at the other.
It was the first time a senior had been so friendly to you. Especially a well-known one.
You find yourself being attracted to him, despite the lack of conversation you had. You barely knew Fred, you didn't know anything about him. But you were head over heels for the boy.
It was Christmas when you found the courage to ask him something. You were nervous the whole day long, jittery of your newfound feelings for the boy.
Fred Weasley was... in your eyes, perfect.
You found him in the Great Hall playing with his brother George, smiling widely. The smile caused a leap in your heart, and you find your hands getting sweaty.
He noticed you, and his wide smile reduced to a smaller one, "Hello there,"
You shyly smiled and cleared your throat, "Hello Fred," His grin became toothy as he heard you roll out his name, "What do you need?"
You looked down, nervous.
"Um, my mum sent me a muggle camera here as a birthday gift. So I was wondering if we could... Um..." You trailed off, the redness of your face was terribly evident.
"Oh, you want to take a picture with me?"
You looked up to him; he was a tad taller than you, and gave him a hopeful look, "If that's completely fine with you, of course."
He nodded almost instantly, his wide smile back on his lips, "Wicked! I've always wanted to see how muggle cameras work!"
You took the camera leash that was hanging around your neck and giddily explained to George what to do.
"Quite offended you didn't want to take a picture with me, eh?" George teased you, and you blushed, "You can join, of course! Really, I don't mind."
"Wicked." Was all George said before calling out his older brother, Percy Weasley; the Gryffindor prefect and briefly explained what to do.
You were placed between Fred and George, Fred at your right, and George at your left. Other students were glancing at you weirdly, unaccustomed to the camera culture.
Flashes came and you smiled, wanting to look pretty so that you can see them back home later. When Percy lowered down the camera to look at the results, you turned to the twins, "Thank you."
They smiled, "Not a problem. Say, why do you want a picture with us?"
"Um... It's for... My scrapbook! It's a journal about my school years, and knowing you two as the pranksters of Hogwarts, I need to at least have evidence I knew you two."
There was no scrapbook; although a good idea when you thought back about it.
"Brilliant! Do you mind if we have some for ourselves? Dad will be so excited to see us using muggle cameras." George said, his eyes twinkling in excitement.
You nodded profusely, wanting to please the twins to get on their good side, and possibly... get noticed by Fred. "Absolutely, go ahead. I'll owl you the prints later."
Christmas holidays went by fast, and it's school time again. You've kept your promise, and sent the prints to the Weasley house with your owl. You printed extra copies of them, blushing profusely at you and Fred, completely ignoring poor George at your other side.
Innocent love, it was.
Throughout your fifth year, whenever you bumped into Fred, you shyly waved at him, or smiled in his direction. He would surely do the same, but then that was it. You weren't sure what you were to him, are you friends? Acquaintances?
Even so, your feelings for him were strong.
The way you blush whenever you think of him, the way all of your friends knew of your big crush on him, the way whenever he walks by, you gave him your prettiest smile.
The way you were helplessly in love with a boy you barely knew. So you did something, something that you had never thought you would do.
You were fifteen, he was sixteen, when you confessed.
That day changed your life. You couldn't really say what it was that day, but it was absolutely dreadful. You couldn't even remember that day that your young heart was broken so early.
All you remember was, his face forming a frown, him taking a few steps back, him avoiding your eyes, him saying with a cold voice, "I'm not ready for a relationship."
"I'm sorry."
And him treating you differently from then on.
"I'm fine, guys, really!" You said to your friends with a wide smile when you got back to your dorm that night, but when they saw through you, your lips began to quiver and the bridge of tears began cascading down your cheeks.
From then on, you began to avoid him. Whenever you saw Fred, you would turn the other way or just pass by him like he was another student walking around the hallway.
But you knew he's not.
During the sixth month of your fifth year, you heard it. The word from student to student. The word that broke you so deeply.
"Fred Weasley and Angelina are dating!"
"I'm not ready for a relationship." His words echoed through your mind. It echoed in your mind the whole day long, you couldn't focus on the classes that day, zoning out every now and then.
You excused yourself from Professor Flitwick's class to go to the bathroom, suddenly the air in there felt stuffy and you couldn't breathe. Walking to the nearest bathroom, you kept your head down low. A headache was coming at you, looks like even your brain is tired of the echoing words of Fred Weasley.
And then you looked up. And there they are, in shining glory.
He was looking at her in pure adoration, the same look he gave you in your dreams only. A soft blush rested on his cheeks, his lips were constantly a soft smile. She was leaning against the wall, and he was in front of her. She was smiling, he was grinning.
He looked so... happy. So different from the frown on his face and the cold voice he gave you a few months ago.
So. So different.
He's not unready for a relationship, he's just not ready for a relationship with you.
Your heart plummeted to the ground, suddenly the stuffy air from Flitwick's classroom attacked you in the middle of the hallway. You bit your tongue hard, not wanting to show them your vulnerable side, if they noticed you anyway.
Your feet that were glued onto the ground just a few seconds ago moved backwards. Similar to when Fred walked a few steps back that day.
You couldn't cry, you couldn't find the strength to do so.
It hurt.
It hurt but you couldn't cry.
You... You felt numb.
Leaving the hallway behind, you began walking. And walking. The pain in your heart turned into anger. Slowly, shifting the sadness in your heart into pure anger towards the tall ginger.
'He hurt me. He lied to me. He played me.'
The pace of your walk quickened. You were walking, then jogging, then in full speed running across the hallway. You didn't care where your legs took you, you just ran.
You ran, and ran, and ran until your legs gave out. An abandoned classroom right in front of you. You entered without a second wasted, quickly casting on a silencing charm to make the room soundproof.
And you scream.
You screamed and screamed and screamed until your throat hurt. You kicked every single abandoned desk there was, throwing your anger and stress towards the static objects.
And when your throat croaked in pain, that's when the urge to cry resurfaced.
At fifteen, you cried for a boy who you barely knew, but you dearly loved.
You didn't realize you've spent a few hours there, so when you got out of the classroom, it was already dark. So you walked back to your common room with aching legs, bloated eyes, and a heavy, but lighter than before heart.
Took you a few weeks, really, to get used to seeing Fred and Angelina everywhere attached by the hip to each other. Whenever they're around, your friends would shoot you a glance, making sure you're okay. You would usually glance at the couple, shrugged, and continued laughing with your friends.
It still hurt, you're just better at hiding it.
Halloween came along and Hogwarts did a Halloween party where everyone dressed up as something. You were the photographer of the night, bringing the muggle camera.
That same camera from Christmas.
You shrugged off the thought and began your work. Quite a lot of people actually threw their best efforts into their outfits. Oliver Wood dressed as a zombie Quidditch player, his makeup was done quite nicely.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione dressed as the Three Musketeers with their cute fake swords and fake mustaches. You took plenty of pictures of them fooling around, it was fun on your part as well.
While taking pictures of Neville being a scarecrow, someone called you through the loud music. You looked around and saw George waving at you.
You walked to him, smiling at his Frankenstein's monster outfit, "Do you want me to take a picture of you?" You offered, and he nodded before he furrowed his eyebrows at you, "Oh hey, you're the one from Christmas last year!"
You smiled, although a bit bitterly this time, "Yes, that's me."
"Dad was fascinated by the pictures, by the way, thanks a lot!" George said, smiling the whole time. Your smile became more genuine and shook your head, "It's nothing, really. Do you want me to take pictures of you, Mr. Frankenstein?" You chuckled at your little joke and he laughed a bit as well.
"Absolutely, let me call Fred for a bit. He's dressing as Dr. Frankenstein!" He said excitedly and turned around, your smile drained so fast. You quickly put on your Grim Reaper mask to hide your face.
There is no bloody way you're going to let him see you.
Wait.
Why are you hiding?
You blinked. You've done nothing wrong to him, it's just a confession and he rejected you, so what? Everyone gets rejected once in a while, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like you'll be tossed to Azkaban if you show yourself.
'Huh, make sense.' You thought as you pulled back the mask to the top of your head. You're right, you've done nothing wrong. It's not like you'll fall for him again once you saw his face-
Oh Bloody Merlin.
Fred Weasley came into your vision, smiling widely to his brother. He was dressed up as Dr. Frankenstein, with his hair dyed black and spiked and he had goggles on the top of his head, wearing the white scientist suit with black rubber gloves and boots.
Your breath stopped. It's been a while since you've properly seen him, courtesy to avoiding to look at him ever since the incident.
You snapped away your thoughts fast, putting on your professional stance as the school's photographer.
"Here he is!" George said and smiled at you, frowning slightly at the sight of you looking a little pale. Fred trailed his eyes to you, the smile on his lips drained as well. Yet he quickly put on a small smile, "Hello,"
You looked at Fred in confusion, did he just say hello to you? Whatever, let's get this over with. "Alright, strike a pose, you two."
Several pictures were taken of them being completely silly and you laughed at their demeanor. "Oh, wait! Angelina!" George said loudly, and your laughter paused rather quickly.
Angelina came in the shot and similar to her name, she was dressed as a beautiful angel, with a bowstring at her back, so you assumed she's dressing up as Cupid.
Suddenly, you were self-conscious of your Grim Reaper outfit. In all honesty, it was just a long black robe that trails to the ground a few inches with a large hood. Your fake synth was right beside you, holding it still under your armpit.
"Come take a picture with us!" George said, and Fred somehow noticed you were becoming uncomfortable, "Maybe not now-"
You shook your head, snapping away from the self-consciousness, "It's alright, the more the merrier." Fred watched you silently and nodded, his lips quickly painting a soft smile as Angelina kissed him on the cheek.
This is what you hate about Fred. He's too kind, sometimes way too kind until you misinterpret what he does to you. Like just now, who the fuck does that to the person they know liked them?
They posed a few times, most of the time, it's just George third-wheeling Fred and Angelina, making you feel quite sorry for the boy. Hell, you felt like you were fourth-wheeling and hurting at the same time.
After the flashes ended, Angelina spoke, "Do you wanna have a picture with these boys? I can take it for you."
You were about to politely decline when suddenly George said, "What a brilliant idea! It'll be just like Christmas last year!"
Well.
So there you were, at the center of the picture again, between the twins again. You hesitantly looked up to Fred, and he looked down at you with a small smile.
Sigh, always too nice.
You looked away and smiled for the camera. George was having his fun time posing while you and Fred were awkward the whole time. After it ended, you thanked Angelina and walked away when suddenly a voice called for your name.
It was him.
You turned around, and he was quite far from you, like a meter or two when he said, "I'll see you around, yeah?"
You shrugged and gave him a small smile, "Maybe."
At fifteen, you had mixed feelings towards Fred.
It's an on-and-off relationship really, but on your side only. There would be a period of time where you absolutely despised him, talking shit about him to your friends at every chance you get. You would convince yourself you were over him so many times.
And then there would be times where you were helplessly in love with him, even when you're well aware of his strong relationship with Angelina. You were genuinely believing that what you felt was love.
It was bloody confusing.
And how it went on until your sixth year, was beyond you.
By the time you reached sixteen, you had understood the circumstances of your feelings. You didn't care if he didn't notice you, as long as he's happy, you're happy for him. The aching in your heart had become so frequent, that you had become numb to it . At this point, you were just hoping for some other boy to come and swoop you up, saving you from this one-sided relationship with Fred Weasley.
3 years, wasted on a boy who barely knows you. At this point, your friends were tired of you and him. They would just nod and say the same thing, "Like someone else, and he'll be gone."
And so you tried. But Bloody Fred Weasley made it hard for anyone else to top him. Every Time you saw another suitable boy, all they reminded you of was Fred.
How his freckles decorated his face like countless numbers of stars to the sky, how his eyelashes were obnoxiously beautiful and long for a male, how his confidence on his long hair made you wonder of many things, how his lips etch the wide smile whenever he did pranks or laugh with his friends.
Whenever his brown eyes sometimes resembled a pool of warm honey when glazed with the sunshine rays.
Fred Weasley was excruciatingly a pain in the ass. And he doesn't even know it.
You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when he left.
You heard news of Fred and George quitting school suddenly, something about the desire of opening their own joke shop. You had mixed feelings of course, you didn't want him to go, yet at the same time, you do.
Maybe with him gone, you would get over him easier. 3 years being stuck on feelings for a guy who rejected you two years ago wasn’t the best feeling.
You quietly looked away when you saw Fred passionately kissing Angelina goodbye from afar. The poor girl had tears in her eyes, yet she was smiling to support him. He hopped on the broom, lingered on the air for a bit to stare at Angelina for a while, before leaving Hogwarts forever.
He's gone. And you weren't sure what to feel about it. The sting inside your chest wasn't helping either.
"Fred." You called out his name, the way it rolled out your tongue so easily familiarly tingles your heart. The tall ginger turned around and smiled, "Hello there."
"I need to tell you something," You said, you weren't nervous at all. You were confident, the main goal was just to let out everything, so you can be free out of his grasp.
He had you around his finger, and he barely noticed it.
"Well, let it out then," He said, smiling down at you. "You remember two years ago? Where I confessed and you rejected me?" You began. He nodded, the smile was still intact on his lips as if you're asking about the bloody weather. "Yeah?"
"I'm still not over you. I'm in love with you, Fred Weasley. I am so, deeply, and helplessly in love with you." You smiled as you breathed out the words. The cage you had contained on your chest for years was finally open, and you felt all the old butterflies flying free out of you.
Fred pursed his lips, his eyebrows furrowing, "... You know I love Angelina." He said quietly, seemingly not wanting to hurt your feelings any further. You find your eyes watering, yet you felt no remorse or pain. Were those happy tears? You don't know, but you don't mind it.
"I know. And you two are perfect for each other. I've already accepted that you'll never love me the way I love you, Freddie. I accept that you'll never see me as beautiful as the way I see you. I accept that you'll never describe me in such poetic words the way I describe you. I accept that you'll never smile whenever I was mentioned in the conversation the way I smile when you're in the talk," You paused to wipe your tears off your cheeks, Fred just watching you letting it all out on him, watching as your shoulders got lighter, and your smile got wider.
"And I accept that I'm not your first love as you are mine."
Fred quietly watched you, his soft smile gave a pleasant feeling to you. He slowly reached out to you, wrapping his arms around you.
You waste no time to hug him back, how for so many years you yearned what it would feel like to have his arms around your waist, or his hand on the back of your head, or his chin on your shoulder.
"Thank you," Was all he whispered in your ear, as he let you go, yet his hands still on your arms, "I suppose this would be the time I let you go now?"
You chuckled, wiping your tears off, "Please do, I can't keep loving you, Fred. It bloody hurts." You teasingly said, with a tinge of truth. He chuckled along.
Slowly, Fred reached out his hand, and with a soft voice and doe eyes, he spoke for the last time, "The name's Weasley. Fred Weasley."
You smiled, and shook his hand, "Pleasure."
You woke up. And then tears came along. And the sobs.
You were shaking, crying so hard your roommates woke up in a groggy state. When they found you crying, they hugged you so tight, feeling helpless on how to help you.
You were crying, but the wide smile on your lips was evident.
You were sixteen, he was seventeen, when you said goodbye.
---------------------------------------------------
"Wow," Was all Dian could say. She had heard this story so many times before, but it took her breath every time.
"Why didn't you stop loving him, mum? He hurt you so much before he left. " She asked.
You shrugged and sighed, "I was sixteen, Dian. And he was my first love. It's the first time I had ever felt heavily for a boy like that."
Dian sighed, "You can't say it's first love when he doesn't love you back, mum. Blimey, he doesn't even know you."
You snorted, "It doesn't have to be reciprocal for first love to happen, darling. You just... Know it's first love. No matter how much you mean to the other person."
Dian tched, pouring down another cup of warm tea, "It's still not fair on your side. 3 years aren't a short time. And the fact that he didn't even notice!" Dian rolled her eyes in frustration, feeling sorry for you.
"No, I think he noticed. Like you said, 3 years are not a short time." You smile gently, looking down to your empty cup. The residue tea leaves in the cup reminded you of Trelawney's class many years ago.
Dian widened her eyes, "So he knew this whole time? That you were in love with him? And he never said a thing?!"
You chuckled, "What was he supposed to say, sweetheart? He's already in love with someone else, you know that."
Dian was growing angry at the man, "That's the point, mum! He knew what it's like to be in love, so he knew how you felt and he never came forward to say anything!" Her voice was becoming louder than before, the urge to protect her mother was stronger than ever.
You laughed at her anger, in your eyes she looked adorable, "Calm down, Dian. We were teenagers. We can't possibly think of everything, we were still growing. I don't blame him for anything, he taught me so many things and he didn't even know he was doing it."
Dian groaned, "Mum, you need to stop looking at everything in a bright direction."
You chuckled, having no response to that. Pouring yourself another cup of tea, you said with a soft voice, "I guess you could say The One who Never Noticed is wrong." Dian raised an eyebrow, "How so?"
You sighed in content at the warm liquid entering your system, and you smiled at your daughter, "He should be The One who Never Cared."
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Four Musketeers pt. 2; Heather : COMING SOON!
TAGLIST:
@truly-insatiable @sophiecalifragilistics @weasleysangel @sarcasticallywitty15 @off-brand-overhaul @hunnybunimdun @slytherinbth
#fred gideon weasley#harry potter#weasley twins#fred and george#fred weasley x reader#fredweasley#fred weasley#fred weasley fanfiction#fred weasley fanfic#fred weasley fic#fred weasley x you#fred weasley x y/n#fred weasley angst#angst#harry potter imagines#harry potter angst#four musketeers#george-fabian-weasley
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Trip Mines & Broken Hearts [Tommy Shelby x Reader]
Quick link to find all the other parts here.
Part-5
In the bleak midwinter, when everything was dark and decaying, you had one hope. A tiny ray of light; in the form of her shrill cries—
You named her Sophie.
All that pain, all those endless hours of screaming, cursing and writhing in pain, she had finally made an appearance at 4 am on an early winter morning in Birmingham, her tiny black hair mopped over her small, round head. She was beautiful, her tiny hand, it could fit in your wedding band.
She had her father's blue eyes, and maybe, she would have Tommy's cheekbones when she grew up.
How you loved those cheekbones—
As you nursed your newborn to sleep, you felt a pang in your chest, and a sudden breathlessness; your heart aching for him. If only, he was here right now. If only, he could hold her, press her to his chest, and promise he will watch over her for the rest of his life, devoting himself to the daughter he shared with you.
Now, six years later, the pain wasn't as severe as it was before.
Time heals all wounds—
No, it doesn't heal them, you just get so immune to the pain, you stop feeling it anymore. It's as though it becomes a part of you—
If there was one thing you could not have, the love of the man you wanted, you had found companionship; friendship in form of Theodore Wilkinson, your husband. Your daughter, your precious angel, your little Sophie, had a loving, nurturing father and you were happy.
But you couldn't stop her from growing up, could you?
You wished sometimes, that she was still a babe, curled at your chest, nestled away from all the harsh realities of this world, unaware, in a bliss. But then, she was growing up.
She was six today—
Although you couldn't afford to throw her a lavish birthday party, with all the money restrictions, the rent you had to pay, taking care of your husband, who was slowly dying, succumbing finally, to the infection that his leg had caught back in France, you did still do what little you could to make her day. Three of her friends had just left, their tummies full, remnants of the delicious chocolate lavendar cake you had baked still on the corners of their lips.
You stood by the door to your parlor, your eyes trained on your daughter who was sprawled over the carpeted floor, unwrapping what little presents she had, while her father sat in his wheelchair, not far from her, an excited, happy look on his face, causing you to smile as well. On days like this, you felt blessed, you felt thankful, that your daughter had gotten the love of both, a father and a mother. No child should be deprived of that.
Your husband's eyes caught you and you saw him bend slightly, whispering something into Sophie's ears as he slowly wheeled his way towards where you were standing.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asked you.
"She's growing up so fast, Theodore, I just—" You grumbled, both your eyes trained on her as she was still unwrapping one of the boxes, "— I wish time would slow down. It's like her childhood is slipping away and I'm losing you to —" You bit back on your tongue, to refrain yourself from saying it out loud, but it was too late, he had already caught you.
"T's okay love, you can say it. I'm dying. But there's nothing to be sad in that, is there? You gave me a new life in France, if it wasn't for you, I would have died back then, wouldn't have had the fuckin' chance to father such a lovely child."
"Theo—" You whispered, placing both your hands on his shoulders as you towered over him, giving them a slight squeeze.
This man had been nothing but kind to you. You wished you could love him the way you loved the man who didn't look back, left you and your daughter but you couldn't. No matter how hard you tried, there is a thing about love—the heart had a mind of its own; it wanted what it wanted, no matter how hard you tried to confuse it. Theo had always known that you didn't love him, not the way a wife should love his husband but he was okay with it. He knew that someone had broken your heart, so bad, you had stopped living, you just existed and he had often tried to ask you who he was, but you had never told him.
It surprised you today, when out of the blue, on your daughter's sixth birthday, he asked you the question you didn't want to answer.
"Would you deny a dying man a last wish?"
"You are not dying Theo—"
"Who was he, love? The man that broke your heart? Who's her father?" He pointed towards Sophie with his eyes.
"You are."
"Biological father, love." He said, a little sternly.
You sighed, your fingers toying aimlessly with each other. You had tried to stir him away from this for six years, but you didn't think you could lie any longer. And he was right, not when he was inching closer to death everyday. You could already see his bones, he hardly could keep food inside, you often had to keep him on a liquid diet.
So you decided, that tonight in bed, you would tell him everything because he deserved to know. And when you did, needless to say, he was shocked.
"Thomas Shelby? Thomas Fucking Shelby? That bloody gangster that threatens men with those fookin' razor blades?" Your husband had a priceless look on his face; as though he had mined out diamonds and was about to get rich.
"You talk about him like he's some fuckin' God."
"He is, to almost all of Birmingham, you see there's only a thin line between God and the devil, the devil is, after all, a fallen angel—" He groaned as he tried to get comfortable in bed but could not do so, his sore body making him almost curse in pain.
You couldn't help roll your eyes at him, shrug your shoulders and lay down on your back, closing your eyes, as you mumbled, "Go to bed, Theo, I have to be at the clinic early in the morning." You worked at a tiny clinic on the other side of the town; a clinic for the lower middle class, those who couldn't afford going to expensive doctors. But he paid you enough to keep your house over the head.
The next morning, you had woken up early and headed to the clinic and much to your dismay, there had been a blast at a factory nearby, which meant you had to extend your shift by a few hours as the casualty number was starkly high. It was almost ten at night and you had been working non stop for almost fourteen hours. Your body felt like it had been run over by a motorcar, your shoulders were tense and you had a spurting headache that caused you to groan in annoyance at any sound that you came across, while walking back home.
Little did you know that you were soon going to forget all this—
Your house was eerily quiet, and usually you could hear the sound of your daughter's words even when you had not started climbing up the stairs to your front door. But of course, it was late at night and it wouldn't be a surprise if your husband had somehow managed to tuck her in.
You unlocked the door with a sigh, stepping in and immediately sliding out of your shoes. The living room was dark, but you could see that the lights in Sophie's bedroom were switched on. Taking off your overcoat, you placed it on the hanger, noting an unfamiliar overcoat hanging on it. Who was visiting your house at 10 at night?
"Sophie, baby?" Your voice was trembling slightly, ringing through the hallway as you aimlessly called out; although you didn't know why.
That's when you heard the floorboard creak, somewhere in the house, just lightly but you had still caught it; and you knew you weren't alone.
The first thing you did was lunge at a vase nearby as a reflex, curling your fingers tight around it; switching on the light.
A sudden panic took over you and you turned towards the intruder.
"It's me, put the fucking vase down."
Just like his words, the vase slipped from your fingers, crashing against the floor as the horror sunk in. Oh, how you had imagined this night to be; the countless times you had rehearsed in your mind, what you were going to say to him, but right now, all you could manage to do was let out the breath you didn't even realise you were holding in.
It was as though you were standing face to face with your past—
After all these fucking years, he looked just the same; just a tad bit older perhaps & the way his hair was styled was so different now; and was that pain in his eyes? Was that regret? Regret he fucking left you like a discarded toy—
The relief of seeing him again was short-lived, and what followed it was a fear, a mother's instinct.
"Sophie. Where is she? Where is she?" You screamed out loud, hot tears sliding out of your eyes.
"Fucking hell," He almost snapped in annoyance, "Stop, she's inside —"
"How the fuck did you even find us? What the fuck are you doing in my fucking house?"
You were going mad; you were going crazy. You could feel your body shake like a leaf. Tommy tried to hold you by your shoulders to stop you from shaking but you pushed his hands away, taking a step away.
"Sophie?" You turned back around; running towards your daughter's bedroom. Pushing the door open, you stepped in, only to find her asleep in bed, her teddy bear tucked into her arm. You slid down on the floor, next to the bed, running your fingers through her hair and slowly, she fluttered her eyes open, probably having been woken up from sleep, "Mummy?"
"Baby, mummy's here, you don't have to be afraid. Where's your daddy?"
She shifted in bed, bringing her teddy up to her chest, "Which daddy mummy? The old one or the new one?"
"What do you mean? Of course, you've got one daddy, baby."
There was a sudden silence in the room. It didn't make sense; there sat your daughter's real father, in the living room of your house. And here, your daughter's words didn't make any sense.
"Daddy said that he is my new daddy, I haven't seen him since then," your daughter's sleepy voice reached you.
"When did this happen, baby?"
"When daddy took me to meet my new daddy. Now will you come to bed with me?" She rubbed her sleepy eyes with her palms.
It all made sense now.
"Go to sleep, baby. Mummy will join you in a minute. Mummy wants to speak to your daddy."
Her real daddy.
You were about to stand up, when her sleepy, broken words reached your ears, "Is my new daddy still here? I want him mummy."
You sighed, barely audible as you tucked her into her blanket, kissing her forehead before you made your way out, closing the door slowly without slamming in. Your shoes flapped against the wooden floorboards as you stormed your way into your bedroom, only to find an empty bed, the place where Theodore used to rest. You didn't understand.
Your nostrils flared; your eyes burnt in hatred. That man had probably done something, of course, he was Thomas Fucking Shelby, capable of anything.
You stepped into the hallway, screaming his name until you were once again standing face to face.
"THOMAS?!"
Today, you were going to confront him, this was the day you had been waiting for, but you sure had hoped it would be in better circumstances—
"Where the fuck is my husband?"
"Sit down."
"Thomas, just tell me what did you do to him? Did you kill him? Did you fucking kill him because you couldn't stand —"
"FOR FUCKS SAKE, WILL YOU BLOODY SIT DOWN?"
He cut you off, screaming back at you, just as loudly as you were screaming, your chest heaving up and down.
Finally, you dropped down on the edge of the couch, as though you were nothing but a lifeless corpse. You looked at him, your eyes clouded with mist; hatred in your eyes.
"You shouldn't have come back, I was so happy without you."
From the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy sit doen on a couch opposite to you, his elbows coming to rest on his knees as he pushed them apart, arching his body forward, his cold, conniving eyes scrutinizing you. His fingers shuffled through his breast pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes and a stick, pinning it to his lips. As you saw him light a match, his face glowing orange under the light from the tiny source of fire, you could see the haunting in his eyes, the questions buried deep within his soul.
"Why didn't you fucking tell me?"
You sat back, your back brushing against the backrest as you eyed him, a bitter smile creeping against the corner of your lips.
"What good would have come from telling you anyway? You were busy with that blonde bartender of yours, what was her name? Ah, yes, Grace."
Tommy's hand clenched into a fist at the mention of her name, his knuckles almost cracking and a warning look crossed his eyes.
"Don't drag her into this mess you've fucking created."
"Where is my husband?" Your immediate question followed; your body a little relaxed now. If he wanted to have a discussion like adults, you were going to give him one.
"Your husband—" You stiffened, sensing the bitterness in his throat; the way the words rolled out of his lips, venomous, ugly. You could sense the danger lurking within the walls of his emotionless eyes, a danger you wanted to shield your daughter from.
"I freed him."
You stood up, towering over him, blinking; confused.
"What?"
You watched as the man you once loved bring the cigarette up to his lips, smoke belting out of his mouth, coiling around him like a snake.
"Guess I had a visitor, an unexpected one, for that matter. At first, I didn't believe what he told me; that he was your fucking husband."
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HUSBAND?"
"I just handed him the gun—"
You could listen no more. Your throat contracted, a sudden feeling of someone choking and twisting your insides took over you, and you doubled up, pressing your palm to your lips, a wave of nausea hitting you. You then recoiled away from him.
He killed your husband.
"Why?" You whispered; your tears falling freely off your eyes, looking into his eyes for any form of emotion, if there was any left inside of him.
"He begged me for release."
You knew he wasn't lying, the man that was dead inside him, the boy you knew, did not lie to you. Not when he was looking you straight in the eye. Your memories flew back to the day he had confessed to not having given Jasper the locket that was intended to be his goodluck charm, which was now dangling from his waistcoat.
"You couldn't live without taking another one's life, did you? You couldn't fucking keep your hands off my husband, you fucking did it again."
Tommy stood up, letting the butt of the cigarette drop to your floor and he stomped on it, his hands flying to his waist. He took a step forward, towering over you, his mind struggling to keep in control the rage that was building inside him.
"I did what he asked me to, hand him the fucking gun. It's a soldier's thing, you won't bloody understand."
"Are you religious, Thomas?" You stood up abruptly, ignoring how close you were standing from him, your chest almost parallel to his.
"Never was."
"Then stop trying to be a fucking God."
You felt numb, your thoughts scattered, your heart wailing in agony. You turned away from him, you couldn't look him in the eye. He was a murderer. Even if it was your husband who had wanted it.
You knew it, with every bit of your heart, how Theodore hated being like this; in pain, like a heavy burden on your shoulders, but he shouldn't have done it. The realisation hit you, how he had asked you who Sophie's father was and maybe, just maybe you had lied, maybe it wouldn't have happened.
"Is she mine?" That cold voice was at it again, clawing through your mind like a shovel.
After all that you had been through, he thought she wasn't his.
"Why are you here if she isn't yours?"
He didn't answer.
"Get the fuck out of my house, out of my life, back into the fucking hole you crawled out from and out of my daughter's life. You've murdered my husband, I wouldn't let you touch a hair on my girl's head."
Something shattered around you; a beautiful vase, scattering to pieces around you as Thomas took his anger out on it, smashing it to the wall. Without saying anything, you watched as he turned around, taking his coat off the coat hanger.
"If she's my girl, there's no one that can stop me from seeing her, ay?"
With one last warning, your front door slammed shut and you were engulfed in a sudden emptiness, in a big empty house— a widow, with a daughter to raise.
(A/N - The GIFs are not mine, found one on Google and liked it so I saved it. Let me know if it is yours and I will credit you. 💕)
@sighonahurricane hope you like it.
#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinders x reader
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🖤 Switched 🖤
***
***
Everyone has their fair share of storms in their lives. Some tolerable, some not so. Some even had the capacity to ruin someone's life, sweeping away all the good memories and leaving only pain and loss and suffering behind.
For her, it all started when she saw him with another girl doing something really unimaginable.
It was one of those lazy days wherein a person would never expect anything spectacular to happen. But, in this case, something did happen.
It so happens that, on the twenty - sixth day of June that summer of 2013, Levi Ackerman had entirely forgotten about her birthday. Well, it wouldn't be so bad but, he had also forgotten that it was also their anniversary. The second anniversary, in fact, since he proposed to marry her.
With the sapphire - studded engagement ring on her finger and his favorite meal on a simple lunchbox, she made her way towards the place where he worked. She sped past his colleagues, who waved and greeted at her, and made her way to that same door. She was really eager to surprise him.
With longing eyes and wildly beating heart, she opened the door,...
... and felt her world fall apart as she saw him do that irrevocable thing with a woman who she trusted and considered as a very close friend for years.
Her eyes widened, her heart felt like it stopped beating. The two sinners haven't even noticed that she opened the door, until she dropped the lunchbox on the floor with a disturbing sound.
The contents of the box dirtied the floor,...
... and so did the two who did the same with the desk, but it was too late.
She saw the two as they both reached their climax.
And only then did the two look at her with such wild and satisfied eyes.
"Levi." She whispered, unbelievable pain tearing her heart and soul apart. "Why?"
He just looked at her as he hesitantly pulled out of that ginger head.
"Oh, it's you, (F/N)!" The ginger head said and smiled sarcastically. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce you. This is Levi, my fiancé'. We're getting married!"
And she said all of that like she didn't already know that he was supposed to be engaged to (F/N) and not to her.
Tongue - tied and hurt beyond repair, she tried to walk towards the two of them and hurt them beyond recognition, but, alas, she couldn't.
Instead, her stupid tears began falling down her face.
And, as if it wasn't enough, the man she loved for ten years finally spoke to her.
"Get out, (F/N)." He simply said. "I don't need you anymore."
"Levi, tell me it's all a joke, please." She pleaded like the nice person she was.
But, the ginger head just laughed at her. "Are you fucking blind, or something?! It's over, (F/N)! Levi loves me, and only me!"
"He doesn't love you!" She screamed, then she looked at Levi once more. "Levi, please!"
"Don't be stupid, (F/N)." He answered. "She gave me everything I ever wanted. You didn't. Now, go away and never go back here."
"You heard him," The ginger head added. "Now, go and - " But, she was interrupted as Levi pulled her in his arms and started kissing her with the intention of exactly doing the deed right in front of (F/N).
And before he could even enter the other woman once more with such vicious hunger like that of a wolf's, she covered her mouth, turned away, and got out of the room as silently as she could.
Part of her wanted to scream at his friends, wanting them to drag the man out of his office, but part of her, which was slowly dying by the second, still respected the man that he was that she made a huge effort not to show any of her emotions to the curious ones who looked at her with utter worry.
She went home, defeated and weary, wanting to drown herself in misery, when another storm hit her and left her in utter ruins.
She stared in disbelief as some unknown men worked their way in the house that she and Levi shared, taking out all of her belongings and practically throwing them outside. She tried to call their attention, but was shocked upon finding out that they were also carrying boxes inside, like someone was already moving in.
That's it. That was the last straw.
With her mind full of those last painful memories and her heart full of those happy times they were still together, she walked and walked and walked. The sun had already set, but she continued to walk.
Until she reached that lake that she had not seen before.
She didn't have enough time and enough room in both her head and her heart to analyze when she had seen that particular lake, but it seemed to call unto her. She stared at its gleaming waters, its gentle waves splashing to her feet.
The moon was already high above the sky. The stars are out and the atmosphere felt really peaceful.
The waters called unto her once more and she looked at it.
Ah. Perhaps she was getting quite mad. She knew this as she heard her name being called once more. She took a step forward, and the waters seemed to welcome her with open arms.
She took a few more steps, until she was already waist - deep in the waters.
She took another step, and she was suddenly chest - deep into it.
She heard her name once more.
She went forward.
Forward.
Forward.
Forward.
***
🖤🖤🖤
***
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Michael Gabriel's book, written with his wife, Marie, is about how fetuses cope in the womb and how they make decisions affecting the rest of their lives. The author, a clinical hypnotherapist and not a primal therapist, has extensive quotes from Arthur Janov which help to backup and support the points he is making.
Gabriel insists that the recollections of birth and of life in the womb are not vague or confabulated recollections. They are detailed and are accompanied by much emotion. But the emotions which the fetus feels are not only his own but also those of his mother and sometimes even his father; a position Janov has not written about, but which some regression theorists have supported. It is almost as though the fetus absorbs and becomes marinated in the emotions of its mother, so if the mother is angry the fetus feels her anger. Psychiatrist Frank Lake termed this phenomenon the "umbilical affect."
A mother who is happy during pregnancy will also project these feelings to the fetus living within her body. If the mother is content in her marriage and is happy to be pregnant, on some level, the fetus knows this and realizes that it is wanted and loved. Thus bonding begins very early in life. Even feelings of inadequacy by the mother may be absorbed and can become an element of the personality of the adult later in life.
The developing fetus can even take on the characteristics of a co-dependent as she can begin to feel responsibility. Gabriel explains how a client, as a fetus, developed a feeling of guilt for causing his mother's morning sickness. Such fetuses, he writes, want to be rescuers and may feel that they are responsible for their mother's unhappiness.
Sometimes a mother decides after birth that she does in fact love her offspring. But the love and acceptance might come too late with her infant continuing her pre-birth attitude of anger and apartness from his mother. The mother may never understand why her child was so emotionally distant and unloving in later life. Under hypnosis a client named Janice explained,
My mother tried to be kind, but I didn't want any part of it. When she tried to help me, I was very critical of her and would blame her. On my sixth birthday, my mother put out an enormous effort planning my birtyhday party. I complained about the way she prepared everything. After that experience, my mother swore she would never give me another birthday party.In one case a client decided that
". . . there is no way I can love my father. He made my mother unhappy. I will go through the motions of being his son, but he will always be an enemy!"
Gabriel says that the fetus can even realize that a different sexed child was desired rather than its own sex. So the growup person can spend a lifetime trying to make the parents love and desire it. Such drives can result in a need for financial, or educational success in life to prove ones worth.
For many the actual birth seems more like dying. This can result in lifelong feelings of claustrophobia and hypochrondria. The author writes that our actual birth will be similar to our gestation. Even the presentation position of the fetus in birth can be determinated by the pre-nate himself. Intolerable womb conditions can make the infant decide to get born earlier than normal.
more http://primal-page.com/be4birth.htm
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((( Please give feedback!! I'm a sad writer))))
The day came late for Jack Brown. The afternoon sunlight shot through his broken blinds pulling him from a restless slumber. Sometimes before he opens his eyes, he’ll forget where he is. He’ll forget his dread of embracing the day.
Jack opens his eyes and in a haze looks towards his smartphone. His skeletal fingers were shaking and the camera app on his phone flashed a reflection at him. Jack brown could be mistaken for a corpse if it wasn’t for the bright, ice blue of his eyes. He cringed at his reflection and went to check the time.
Sitting up in his single bed, his lungs felt full. He pushes out a strangled cough. Jack wiped his face and saw the black sludge that had leaked out of his lungs. Jack felt a lump in his stomach whenever he thought about his grandmother dying of lung cancer. even though his grandmother had passed from lung cancer when he was 21, hence the reason he is now the sole resident of her rent-controlled apartment. Jack remembered the day he had found her in the kitchen slumped over a bowl of cheerios with her oxygen tank screaming for more air, as her lungs probably did.
Jack looks around her apartment: It was a small place stacked with his grandmother's old paperba and erotica novels, her moth-eaten old furniture, and pictures of her friends and family that he had never met. Evidence of a long and happy life should have been a comfort to Jack. He wanted to erase all the evidence of her. Make this his real home, yet he couldn’t bear to do it. These photographs lined every wall, even in the bedroom. He felt like a stranger here, like he didn’t belong. Like everywhere else, even in his own home, he had strangers staring at him. The constant loneliness of a million eyes glaring was now the only comfort he held inside of himself.
Jack pulled himself out of bed, groaning with each pop in his bones. He picked up his uniform from the floor, A grey pinstripe button-up with SECURITY detailed on the front pocket and black slacks. In the pocket were a crushed pack of cigarettes and his father's red pocket knife, a reminder of the man he would never be. Beside him on the nightside table was a photo of Jack and his father. When his father was younger you could’ve sworn he was a movie star. Long blonde hair, and not even one crooked tooth. Jack pushed a hand through his dusty blond hair and ran his tongue over his yellowing teeth. He cleared his throat again and placed a cigarette in his mouth. One of his darker fantasies involved him waking up one morning and coughing so hard bits of his lung would spill out of his mouth, at least he wouldn’t have to go to work.
Jack made his way to the kitchen and opened up his fridge. The only thing cast in the fluorescent light was a dilapidated birthday cake. It had been Jack's birthday less than a week ago. Some of his coworkers had got together and purchased it for him. It was a vanilla cake ( he hated vannile) with pink icing. On the top of the cake, in red swirly lettering was “ Happy Birthday Jake!” The mistake did not bother Jack, the subject of birthday cake had always been a sore spot anyways.
His father Bo Brown, smelled like cheap barley and stale tobacco. A cigar always seemed to be perched in between his index and pointed finger. Jack, had always thought the way his mama, Eleanor Brown, was different and more delicate. As if in between those red painted fingernails she was holding a daisy. It was Jack’s sixth birthday and Eleanor had baked him a vanilla birthday cake with cream cheese frosting. His father, always being one for celebration, was very very drunk. What Jack didn’t understand was that drunkenness was the closest thing to goodness his father was capable of. The alcohol disillusioned his ambitions making him an unpredictable and stupid man.
In the doorway of the kitchen his mother stood with the birthday cake. She was a round woman.
Her eyes were like two round blue and green globes like the one in his classroom, and her cheeks round summer peaches. Jack did not receive his mother’s body type, instead he was cold and angular like his father. Eleanor stood with the cake on a platter and six red candles illuminating her smile in a heavenly halo. Bo sat at the kitchen table tapping his yellowed fingernails on the table and sipping his drink. The ice cubes clinked as he clapped his son on the back and yelled drunkenly
“ Well, Ellie, our sons are finally a man!” he shouted, “ and a man deserves a man’s gift.”
From his work jeans Jack’s father brandished a black box. When he opened it, a tiny red pocket layed there peacefully.
“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little.. Young” his mother laughed sheepishly, her eyes brandishing terror.
“ Now Bo, don’t you think he’s a little young” Bo mocked as pure rage flashed across his face and he flicked open the knife and pointed it towards his wife.
“ Don’t you ever tell a man what to do and what not to do with his son!” he drove the knife down into the table.
The room was so quiet Jack could hear the blood pumping in his father's veins. His father’s face erupted into a tepid smile as he handed Jack the knife
“ I’m only joking Jackie” his father clapped him on the back once again.
Jack was too afraid to cry. However as his mother placed the birthday cake in front of him, he saw tears in her eyes.
“ Happy birthday Jack”
He was too young to feel this old, but even the twenty-minute walk to the bus stop winded him. He passed young millennials with their smartphones and turtlenecks. He didn’t know who he was a part of, 23 is an ever confusing age anyways. If Jack had it his way he’d be seventy already so there would be an excuse to be so miserable.
Jack sat toward the back of the bus as he always did. In front of him was a younger couple. The girl had short bleached hair and was wearing an oversize jean jacket with the words `` Reject society!” painted in bright red. The boy had a shaved head and was wearing a green knit sweater. His large combat boots were sticking in the aisle. As the bus started to roll the girl pulled out a cell phone and a set of headphones. She put one earbud in his ear and one in hers. The boy smiled at her, and she giggled. She set her head on his shoulder and even though Jack couldn’t see her, he knew she was smiling. He felt strange looking at them. As if he was eavesdropping on their little world. Jack was jealous of them. He was jealous he didn’t have someone to rest their head on his shoulder. To hold hands as they walked home together. To smoke cigarettes on his balcony with. Jack wasn’t unattractive. It was that Jack was terrified of people. Isolation, Jack realized, brings a lot of things. Jack thought he would forget how to speak. That his words would shoot up in his throat, and stop just behind his teeth and he`d choke on them. That his tongue would never move again and turn to cement, that`d he'd die struggling for breath. Even if those things happen .. then he wouldn’t mind too much.
The bus slowed to a stop and the young, in-love couple scurried off. Once again as Jack stood up, his bones popped and cracked. He exited the bus, gently apologizing as he bumped into people. They said nothing back.
Most people were exiting the museum as he hurried up the steps. Jack loved how it looked. It was reminiscent of the old homes in the south. Tall white, marble pillars in front of the doors, large glass doors with gold trimming that never chipped. Long flower boxes on each of the windows that always held cigarette butts and grocery store flowers. The building itself held an undeniable glow to anyone that stood in its shadow.
As he entered the building one of the curators, Quinn, gave him a polite smile. Quinn was tall with dark, dark brown hair. For what Jack knew, she was nice and very very smart. Quinn always knew when to speak and she was the best with guided tours. Jack thought maybe he could ask her out for a drink one night. Maybe they'd start talking about art, and the music they liked and what he wanted in ten years. Maybe she would kiss Jack outside of his favourite Chinese restaurant and maybe Jack would meet her parents. If not that, maybe they could just be friends.
Jack didn't have time for all that, if Jack had the right words, maybe.
He set his bags down on the front desk and clocked in at the computer. Jack sat down and stared at the setting sun through the long windows. It was just about time to lock the door. He crossed the large entrance hall, his work boots echoing through the museum. Jack pulled his ring of keys from his belt when all of sudden Quinn was barreling up the stars. Beige high heels in hand. Jack opened up the door as she reached the top.
" Jack!" She shouted, " You're a damn lifesaver!"
" Is everything okay?" He said
" Yes, yes I just forgot my wallet"
Jack let her in, and she pushed past him walking toward the front desk.
" It's my anniversary tonight, and I didn’t want to be without" she chuckled
" Congratulations Quinn" he smiled
" Thank you, thank you. Were going to his favourite Chinese place on the upper side -"
" The Golden Castle?" Jack asked
" Yes! That's the one?" She asked
There was a silent pause as Quinn dug through the drawers at the front desk.
" Is it only you here tonight?" She asked, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.
" Always is"
Quinn lifted her wallet into the air triumphantly. Smiling beautifully.
`` Well, Jack if you get too bored, there's a new exhibit just down the hall..``
She came close to him, too close. Jack tried not to be weird. But He saw her crystalline eyes reflect from the dying sunset and the small scar above her top lip. She had freckles too, hundreds of them dotted all across her face. When she smiled, her top teeth were crooked, it made her face look kind and warm. Jack looked up from her lips.
`` Technically it’s a preservation piece, I haven’t even seen it. But, since you’re all alone” she said “ Maybe you could take a peak and tell me all about it.”
Her body pressed against his as she leaned into his ear
“Just don't let anyone find out, it`ll be our little secret. Okay?”
Jack beamed at her request . He put two fingers to his lips and then into the air.
“I promise, Scouts honour,” Jack said with fake confidence
There it was again, that little laugh, and that gorgeous smile.
“ Have a good night Jack” she moved past him and out the door. She fluttered down the stairs quickly.
“Hey, Quinn!” Jack called after her horsley
“ Yea?!” Quinn called back from down the stairs
“ Try the eggrolls”
Quinn looked up at him, smiled once again and slipped into a taxi. Jack was still smiling when he closed and locked the door. He turned away from the door, and finally his cheeks fell. His face burned from smiling so hard.
“Jesus Jack,” he thought to himself, ``Try the egg rolls?`
The night rolled on as it always does, slow and with no mercy. Jack had his feet up on the front desk and was scrolling through the 10 cameras set up on an old computer monitor. He moved his hand onto the mouse and clicked through the cameras carelessly.
Jack knew that there was no way that anyone could get in or out of this place. His job was merely peace of mind to the faceless millionaire that owned this place. While he had never met his boss, he always pictured him as an overweight man in a tight navy suit. Usually smoking a thick cigar and having a large shiny bald head. Kind of like the old mob bosses in his father’s favourite movies.
All of a sudden, there was a slight itching behind his ear. He dragged his dirty fingernails behind his ear, trying to soothe the itch. The more he scratched however the more that erupted into a burning hot inflammation. He whipped his head around and smacked his ear violently.
What the fuck, What the fuck, what the fuck? Jack screamed to himself in his head.
Without warning, a tiny black beetle fell from Jack’s ear and into the palm of his hand. Its exoskeleton was hard and smooth. It’s mouth curled into two lewdly sharp pincers,
Jack’s heart leapt into his throat and he threw the beetle on the ground. It scurried toward the far end of the hallway. Panting, Jack watched as it’s tiny body disappeared into the shadows.
It was then that he noticed that there was a long shadow running up the hallway walls. Had he forgotten to turn off a light? No way Jack thought to himself. All the lights in the museum only used two switches. One for one-half of the museums’ lights, the hallway on his left, and another the hallway on his right. But one ominous light burned through the darkness. Jack stood and went to investigate. Just as he stood from his chair, the burning in his ear ceased.
Once again his boots echoed in the empty hallways. Clump..clump….clump.
The source of the light was nowhere to be seen. Yet long shadows still ran up and down the walls. Jack turned a corner and finally there it was. The light was shining behind a large security door labelled " The Art of curse and passion DO NOT OPEN"
This was the new exhibit Quinn had told him to venture into. Jack had made it a habit to stick to the rules. Even though Jack didn't move an inch, the door seemed to be getting closer to him with every beat of his heart.
Lub dub….lub dub...lub dub
He outstretched his palm now drenched in sweat and grasped the polished door handle.
When he pushed open the door, a blinding white light pierced into his eyes. Jack screamed at the pain and tried to cover his eyes but it seemed as if his hands had melted to his sides.
In a matter of seconds, his eyes adjusted to the light.
The room was empty except for one painting. It was in a midsize thin brown frame. The painting depicted a woman. Her face was cold each angle smoother than the next. The woman's hair was deep deep obsidian and her eyes crystal white, almost as translucent as glass. A melody of flowers pooled around her, encircling her in the richest colours of flaming crimson Rose's, Bold purple violets and sapphire forget me not. She was the most beautiful woman, Jack had ever seen and once again without moving a muscle, the painting seemed to move closer to him with each beat of his heart.
His hand hovered to her face, begging to touch her skin. Jack's body burned for her, itching like a junkie wanting a fix he yearned for her more than anything he's ever wanted.
A soft voice came slithered over Jack's neck and into his ears
Touch She begged Touch me
With no second thought, Jack was removed and there only lay his desire. His long skinny finger brushed what he hoped to be canvas but instead was supple flash. Jack jumped back his heart hammering in his chest, closing his eyes tight praying hoping that this would all be a dream. He dug his fingernails deep into his palms praying that maybe that would wake him.
Yet when he opened his eyes, the painting had gotten closer and closer. The fear left his body as a receding tide. He was left face to face with Her. Jack’s breath left him in fleeting gasps. Her face moved, looking through him and at him all the same. Her blushing rose lips grazed him. Jack melted at the feeling of her tongue grazing his bottom lip.
She tasted like springtime. Fresh warmth after months of bitter cold and for the first moment, Jack's world was no longer colour blind. He was locked into her.
Help me Jack her voice was smooth and kind, I know, I know how lonely you are. How your heartaches as mine does. How the emptiness fills you like desire, I feel it too Jack. Please, please let me out.
I can’t Jack thought to himself I’ll lose my job
Please Jack, she begged, you hate it here, you despise this place.
From the bottom corner of the painting, a milky white hand appeared. It outstretched and wrapped itself around Jack’s cheek. Digging her palm into his jagged face, seemingly touching him from the inside.
I’ll save you Jack if you save me first.
There was no more Jack, only the paint that had seeped from her lips into him. Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his father's pocket knife, assuming his destiny and releasing Her from her cage.
Jack rolled her up and cradled her in his arms. He felt her warmth radiate all over him.
Jack left the room, now dark as if the lights had never been on. His boots clomped once again, faster as he sped towards the door. Jack saw that hours had passed by him while he was in the room ; dawn illuminated the museum. To the front doors in which he quickly unlocked and threw open. The screech of the security alarms rang in his ears and he pumped his legs, not worried about turning off the alarm, not worried about anything. Jack's lungs felt as if they were made of lead and his blood pure and burning adrenaline
Feeling the bright morning dew slick on his skin and the light finally breaking through his fog.
Faster Jack, they can’t catch us
Jack ran so fast that the gods would never touch him. His long legs burned and begged him to slow down but Jack had what he never did, purpose and love.
It was too early for passersby to see him. The occasional morning jogger passed judgement at his uniform. They assumed he was just another nighttime degenerate crawling into the day.
He ran even faster.
Jack entered his apartment. The silence was crowded by the blood pounding thick in his ears. Jack stood for a moment. Revealing how the faces in all of his grandmothers' photographs seemed to smile at him now.
Unravel me Jack she said
All at once Jack rushed toward his kitchen table, swiping the ashtrays and stacks of paperbacks onto the ground. He opened her onto the table and was once again swept by her burning beauty.
He pulled up a chair and sat there at his table staring intently at the painting. Memorizing each curve, each line of her face. Tears burned at his eyes, and he wept onto her.
It’s okay Jack, You’ll never have to feel that way again, I just need one more thing
Anything, absolutely anything Jack smiled though his gut-wrenching sobs.
You must devour me
The life he lived before her was black and grey and now he breathed technicolour.
Dust settled on the table around him and on his fingertips. Spider’s and dust mites scurried up and down his furniture and the carpet. Large moths had fluttered onto my clothing, slowly but surely tearing away my cotton uniform. Leaving me a bare corpse dissolving into dust. I was disappearing as if his body was becoming weaker, and weaker with each passing breath.
You must devour me. Her voice echoed through his brain, and Jack became aware of what he must do.
Jack moved his skeletal frame towards his fridge. His stomach was caved inward, and his ribs jutted out at all angles. Jack’s stick-like fingers grasped the door and opened it. The cartilage in his knuckles cracking like ice on a pond.
In his fridge, behind the cake, there was a glass cup of cream and a mason jar of honey. Jack used his failing strength to set the cream and the honey on the table. He slumped down once again.
Jack lowered his head to her face one last time. Pressing his forehead to hers and his chapped lips to hers. All he tasted was canvas.
Please don’t leave me he thought, I love you
Jack, don’t you see, now I’ll always be apart of you
You’ll never be alone again
He stuck his fingers into the jar of honey and slathered her face encompassing her in sweetness. Delicately he ripped a piece of her and stuffed it past his lips. Dissolving the canvas into a soft pulp. His back molars did not dare tear the paper to bits. His stomach screamed for fullness. The ball of dissolving canvas lodged itself below his Adam's apple. Jack poured the cream down his throat and colour entered him. With ravenous lust , piece after piece Jack began to gorge himself stuffing every last piece inside him. He ate around her face, devouring the prismatic flowers first. Slathering each piece in gobs of honey and gulping down cream. Sputtering whiteness from his full mouth. Jack paused when it came to her waxy and pointed face. He ripped larger, and larger portions from her face until the only pieces left were her eyes. He held the last pieces of her in his hands and dipped her in the honey. He swallowed so much of her she gripped his throat. The yellow liquid dripped down his chin and onto his wrists, the long self inflicted scars of his youth were bathed in sweetness.
Never again Jack promised himself,
Never again the woman's voice promised him.
If alone was a feeling, loneliness was a hole in the bottom of his stomach an ache in his tooth. An itch in the back of your eye. I had always had this hole, this ache and this itch.
As she entered me, as her color filled me….
Jack brown was never lonely again.
….
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My 2019 in Review: The Triumphs, The Obstacles and The Lesson
January, it is the first month of the year but it seems like it is in the middle of the year. It was one of the hardest month of the year for me because of the problems that we faced together with my family. Even though we are facing a huge obstacles it is not a hindrance to stop our dreams and goals in life instead we make it as the reason why we are keep fighting. In this month also, I met those people that I can trust in small and in big things. People that knows how to manage my moods and everything, in this month it proves me that if someone will leave there's someone will come.
On the next month which is the month of February, it was one the month that I can't forget, because we have our family day in this month. I can't call it as family day because I come at school all by myself. It is not new to me because every year I have no parents that is present in every family day, I'm always alone in every family day. And also we celebrate the valentines day at school together with my classmates and schoolmates. We enjoyed the moment because we all know that it will never be happen again next year because we are graduating students next year and we are aware that we can't attend the valentines day celebration next year because instead of having valentines day celebration we will have our prom.
March, it was a very stressful month because we need to complete and pass our projects on time, also, I can't forget the month of March. Our teacher in General Chemistry told us to make an invention that connects to our topics from the first semester to second semester. We are having a hard time to make our group project in General Chemistry, our group is the lucky one because our teacher is always rejecting our project, that was the reason why we didn't take our exam on the scheduled date. While we are doing our project at the lounge area the teachers are calling us because we are needed at the gymnasium for the moving up ceremony of Grade 7,8,9 and 11. After the ceremony, we go back at the lounge area and we continue our project and we passed it to her but of course she rejected it again, we told her that we will pass our project tomorrow and thanks God she agreed. Early in the morning we go back at school and we pass our project and we are so grateful because she accepted it and we took the exam.
April, the month that I will treasure the most, in this month, I visited my school when I was junior highschool. It was the month that I visited the clinic of my doctor at San Pedro. It is also the month that we hang out together with my classmates at the resort in Tacurong. The month of april is very memorable for me because our parents allow us to have some fun with my classmates, we are all happy because we see each other at the resort. We enjoy the moment when we go there because we all know that we can never bring the memories back.
Before 5:00pm, we decided to leave the resort because we are all afraid that some of our classmates will scolded by their parents because it is late at night yet we are still at the resort. We arrived at Esperanza at exactly 6:54 pm, instead of going home at our own houses we decided to spend our night at Gazebo and we will pack our things tomorrow morning. So we checked in at Gazebo and we make it as a memorable night for us, instead of sleeping, we shared a lot of horror stories while eating popcorn, nachos and many more and we didn't notice that it is 4 o'clock in the morning and only five out of nineteen are still awake at that time. 5am in the morning we decided to nap because we also need an energy, and after a couple of hours we decided to go home, that was the memorable one of the year
May, the fifth month of the year, this month, I'm at Davao and I am spending my vacation together with my family. May 10, we packed up our things and we travelled Kauran from Davao. May 11, we attended the birthday of my cousin, and she's very happy that I attended to her birthday. May 15, it was the feast day of our saint, Saint Isidore the farmer. We cheer our basketball team in their championship.
June, the sixth month of the year and the most awaited month of the year because it is the opening of another school year. And of course I woke up early so that I won't be late on the first day of class, im so excited to see my classmates and my friends and share my own experience during my vacation. Of course, In the month of June, we always have an acquaintance party where we can meet a new friends. In this party, we are having fun with my friends, we're enjoying the night like there's no tomorrow, we enjoyed the party so much because we all know that it will never be happen again. That's why we really enjoy the night until the last hour of the program.
July, the seventh month of the year, it was the month of the fruits and vegetables. In this month, we are preparing for Adusay, Zumba and many more, as a member of Adusay, we always spend our time for our practices. We always keep in our mind that it is our last Adusay in this institution. It was so unforgettable because even though we didn't win atleast we know to ourselves that we did our best to win the contest. We did all our best that's why we didn't feel any regrets at last.
August, the eighth month of the year, it is also our last to celebrate our Buwan ng Wika in this institution. As we celebrate Buwan ng wika, we have also a competitions like Sabayang Pagbigkas, Folk Dance, Sabayang Awit and many more. We did our best in every practice, because we don't want to disappoint our teachers who gave their full support to us, who sacrifice just to give what we need and what we want. So when the day of buwan ng comes, we are all ready to perform because we all know that we can make our performance perfect. When the announcement of winners, we can't believe it, because all of our hardships, and sacrifices are worth it.
September, the most unforgettable and memorable month, because we defend ou title as a defending champion during the Notre Dame Day, Battle of the festivals. Before we have our Annual Retreat we take our exams first, after our exams I immediately packed up my things so that I can go to the retreat house together with my classmates. I prepared my things the night before so that it will not be hassle for me because we will go to Digos early in the morning. Our call time is before 5am and we're complete before it turns to 5am in the morning, then we headed our way to our destination. We arrived there at exactly 9:27 am, brother John told us to roam around first and enjoy the rest of our stay at the retreat house. We enjoyed a lot at the retreat house and after 3 days and 2 nights staying at the resort we enjoyed it a lot.
After our last session at the retreat house we immediately proceed to our next venue which is at the White Haven. We have a hard time to get there because of the situation of coaster, at exactly 5:47, we arrived at the White Haven. We swim at the beach, we enjoy it because it will be the last and it will not happen again in the future. We also play a cards like, 1234 pass, tongits, lucky nine, first three, heart attack and many more. At exactly 8am we headed our way to Gensan for our Educational tour. U
October, the tenth month of the year, it is the month of the Holy Rosary ,everyday we used to pray the Holy Rosary in front of the Statue of Mama Mary. And also, in the month October we celebrated the Boy's day and we cheer our contestant. We also screamed because all you can see in the eyes of our contestant which is our classmate is the eagerness to win. But our contestant didn't win but its okay, because we all know that he did his best just to win this kind of competition.
November, this month is the saddest month for me, because this month I always feel alone even though im with my friends and I think this month is a suicidal month for me. Because I tried to kill myself slowly but with the help of my friends I realized that they value and cared for me. I'm always sad because I always missed my grandparents where I used to tell my problems. In this month also, we celebrate our 1st and last feast day, we played a lot of parlor games and we also won that's why we save ourselves by cleaning our classroom. But we also helped the cleaners even though we are not assigned to clean it, but we just wanted to help them in cleaning the room and besides all of us used the room that's why we helped them.
December, this is the last month of the year and it is also an unforgettable one and in this month is our christmas party. I know it is not that enjoyable compared to our feast day but it still make our christmas party memorable. This month also, I spend my christmas vacation with my family and we also have our family gathering and also we have our exchange gifts. And I spend my new year with my whole family and Im hoping that Love will always be present in our family.
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A short story
The end sucks, but it’s something.
It’s 7076 words, English is not my first language.
As silly as it might sound, I honestly thought that what I heard when speaking to people was them speaking to me, even if they half of the time they didn't move their lips. I thought it was normal and didn't question it when I heard people say the answers to their own questions, or when I saw people on the street holding hands and laughing but said out in the open that they would rather be anywhere else. I often asked what people meant with what they said and for the most part only got weird looks in response. Instead of understanding that what I could hear wasn't normal and stopped talking about it, I instead spoke my mind and questioned almost everything I heard.
When receiving gifts, when I was younger, I used to always guess what I believed to exist in the package. Of course, I was always correct no matter how much they tried to hide the content. I would also always win in rock, paper, scissors when playing it in kindergarten. In the end everyone started to just give me money on Christmas or as birthday present. Everyone in kindergarten also stopped trying to be my friend as I always speaked my mind and unknowingly spred others secrets around. I realized quickly that something was wrong with me but was too busy self-pitying myself to figure out what.
My father worked a lot and would often not be home until late at night after leaving early in the morning. My mother on the other hand started staying at home as soon as I was born, you would think that a mother should have noticed its own child's strange behavior, but I learned quickly that she was blinded by the thought of having a perfect child and brushed every weird act away. I could hear what people really thought about me and would, without explanation, distain myself when knowing I wasn't wanted. I grew self-conscious of how I acted, dressed and spoke. Even though I grew weary of my speech I still asked about the things I heard. My dad noticed my strange behavior and distanced himself from the family even more and either worked harsher hours or passed free time at bars. Whenever I was lucky enough to see my father, he was in an argument with mom. Mostly about how stressed he was from work and often whined about the smallest things, like how the food he warms up after coming home always was either too bland or too salty. The biggest reason to why they argued though was because of my weird actions, he understood what it was I could do and didn't feel safe in his own home and therefore tried to explain this to mom.
Just a week or so before my seventh birthday he left for another woman, stated how mom has grown to dense for comfort and that I was a monster he never wanted, at the same time exclaiming the impossibility of me being his daughter. When leaving, mom broke down by the doorstep and closed herself in her room, for weeks living as a ball of depression in her room with meals being delivered to her door, she finally stepped out of her cave. And for the first time in a long time saw my face. It was like a string in mom snapped and she quickly started blaming me for dad's disappearance. She no longer wanted to see me as the perfect daughter and instead searched for flaws around me that she could comment on. While searching she found my strange ability, she grew outraged finding the one thing that father always tried to explain was there and the biggest reason for his departure.
She started giving me rules to follow to be allowed in her home. I was no longer considered family. For me to not be able to spread her secrets I was not allowed to talk, to be allowed to eat I had to make the food, I had to do everything in my power to make myself the house ghost. Every time she saw me, she sneered, gave me a row of dirty looks and thought the worst things she could think of about me, knowing that I would hear and take it to heart, I wasn't worth her words. I spend most of my time in our library, mother didn't bother putting me in a school so until I could attend one, I took care of my education on my own. When mother was home, I obeyed every big or small rule she had for me, didn't speak, never looked her in the eye and cooked the best food I could because of the many cook books I studied. I did after all still love her and wanted her to be happy even if the thought wasn't mutual. Mother quickly started working again and worked just as long hours as father did, I barely saw her. She must have started to enjoy her work more or just wanted to be even further away from me, either way she started going on business trips for weeks at a time. After all the reason behind mother's fortune and big house wasn't because of her and fathers divorce but because of her own efforts as a business woman.
On my ninth birthday mother contacted me while being on a vacation in Dubai and asked me rather harshly if I have been studying, and even if originally not told to I told her that I have been spending most of my free time in the house library and should be on the same level as others my age in most subjects. Mother told me with a lack of interest that she had enrolled me in the school closest to her home. She gave me strict instructions on what kind of equipment I was supposed to buy and told me that I was supposed to start in about two weeks when summer break was over. Even if she forgot about it, I like to think that was my birthday present and had hope of her maybe still having gentle and loving feelings towards me.
Everything went on as usual except that the ghost of the house danced around laughing and singing to express her joy. I had always wanted to meet new people and liked to think that I had learned my lesson from kindergarten. I had under two weeks straight daydreamed about countless scenery's, different conversations and the kind of people I would meet. I set up a countless set of rules for how I should act and speak. I picked out the perfect outfit and studied extra hard for a couple of days just so mother wouldn't think of me as a disappointment.
The high hopes I had for my new beginning quickly crumbled when what first greeted me was scared and angry looks, I didn't understand that those who went to the town's kindergarten could have gone to the same school as me. So, I didn't have time to make a name out of myself with the new me, because others already had. I was supposed to go there from third grade to sixth, I knew mother wouldn't care about my situation, so my only option was to suffer through three years of hair pulling, name calling, pushing, things being thrown at me as well as my things being destroyed and, in some cases, punching and kicking. I hadn't even once out loud said a thing I heard someone think, most of them had no proof of what a few others were saying, even teachers just believed what children said about me being able to read other minds.
When I went through the last day of sixth grade, I was welcomed home to mothers' servants and maids packing the hole house away and when looking out the window I saw three moving trucks. One of the maids came to me and explained that my room was already packed and that I could wait out in the one of the cars. She must have seen my questioning expression because she then quickly explained that me and mother were moving to Scottsdale, Arizona and explained that mother was already there. While in the car on my way to the airport I remember doing some research on the town we were moving to and started getting a little worried when I saw six cases of kidnaping in the area but quickly pushed the thought away. I thought that this time, in a new state, new city, miles from my first ever home, I could maybe have a new start where no one knew who I was.
I ended up spending all my free time for summer brake looking around town, getting to know my surroundings. I found the town library and passed a lot of my time studying the towns history, I have for a long time been interested in geographic history but once again grew worried when looked at one of the TVs in the library that showed another case of a missing child. Because mother usually isn't home, I have and is still being raised by our house maids and was delighted when knowing that our staff moved with us.
And here I am in Scottsdale, Arizona's very own Mountainside Middle School, in one of thier classrooms for seven graders. They started school a week ago and because there were so many knew students except me, I wasn't as big of a mystery and I have been able to stay out of everyone's way. This school is already a lot better compered to my first one, everyone is a lot nicer and of what I can tell, bullying is extremely rare here. I met almost all the teachers except my math teacher who apparently have been sick for most of summer break and still felt a little sick a week after and stayed home. I have made one friend though; her name is Emma and she is currently sleeping in her seat next to me using her arms as a pillow. I kind of understand her reason for falling asleep, our history teacher Mrs. Owen is trying to teach us about the golden age while most of the students are either talking with their seat mate, in hushed tones, or are almost sleeping. Lucky for all the student as well as the well ignored teacher this school has a bell to alert us of when class has ended and that bell just rang.
Everyone starts standing up making the chairs scrape against the floor as well as the volume quickly started to raise, this didn't wake Emma though. I poked her cheek a couple of times with her just turning her face from me while grumbling. I sigh, "Emma, wake up", she doesn't move. "Please Emma, wake up", I try once again while poking her cheek. No, go away. "Emma, I won't go away. Just please get up, people are starting to stare." She knows how I don't like attention and kindly enough turns her head gives me a small glare but, in the end, rises and takes her history book, note book and pen from the end of the table. Fine, she thinks while starting to turn to face me. She can be incredibly stubborn and hard headed, but she was the first and only one who talked to me on our first day just four days ago and our friendship just kind of bloomed from there. She's loud, I'm quiet, she hates school, I appreciate it. But she is kind, she usually doesn't show it, but she cares and doesn't judge easily. I don't know her that well, of course I want to get to know her, but I don't feel an extreme need to, she is my first friend in years and I just want to live in that dream for a while before I maybe open my mouth and destroy it all.
While walking out of the classroom we are met with a wall of students quickly walking to get to their locker to get home. While being in this big crowds I'm happy that I learned how to close out most thoughts, before it all crashed on to me and I couldn't help to hear everything on a 15 meter radius around me or anyone I made eye contact with, now I here just a few and of course also anyone I wish to hear the thought of. I use the ability now more mostly to get to know the real character of someone I never met before.
Finally finding an opening in the moving wall of students me and Emma quickly starts walking in the same direction as most others. "You busy this weekend?", she asked while walking. "No, I was just planning on studying for the most part, why". She made a funny face as soon as I mentioned studying. "Well, if you want to do something that's actually fun, I thought that we maybe could have a sleep over." She stops by her locker while I continues walking to mine which is just 7 lockers down. Thank god. Mr. Wilson is finally starting on Monday; this substitute is killing me. Who is Mr. Wilson? It's going to be so much easier when Mr. Wilson comes back. These are just random thoughts from random students but who is that? I don't think we have a teacher named Wilson.
I start putting everything in my bag with Emma looking over my shoulder. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up. I can feel a headache coming along, I wonder why. She is still doing her little chant while having the decency to look completely unbothered by how slow I am while leaning on the locker next to mine. The halls are emptier now with only a few still by their locker while some are walking towards the exit. "No, I'm sorry but I can't this weekend, mother is holding a gathering slash party for the company she works for." I say while closing my locker and putting my bag on my shoulder. It's a black Armani shoulder bag, sure mother doesn't like me, but I'm still related by blood and can't, in her words, run around bringing shame to her name because of cheap clothes and products. "We could maybe be at my home; my family shouldn't be bothered by it." I would honestly really like to, I mean she is my first friend in a long time but one of mother's rules is for me to stay at home at all time when she is home. Not for my company but to keep an eye on me while at she is able to. "I'm sorry but mother doesn't like me being out of the house when she is home, I'm sure she will be away again next weekend and would love to have a sleep over then if that's alright?" She looks a little sad, her shoulders slumping and eyes darting to the floor but quickly goes back to being normal with a small smile tugging at her lips when hearing that I maybe could next weekend.
We started walking towards the exit, in a calmer fashion now when we aren't being pushed forward by a wall of bodies. I can't keep my smile from blooming on my face while looking towards the door but at the same time hearing her thoughts. She seems to be delighted thinking of how she wishes for Monday to come quicker. That reminds me. "Emma." She looks towards me. "You have been at this school since fifth grade, right." She turns her head more towards me and nods slowly. "Yeah, why?" I keep walking with my face facing forward while looking to and from her face moving only my eyes. "It's nothing really. I just heard some people talking about somebody called Mr. Wilson. I haven't heard the name here before so I'm just wondering if you know who it is." My eyes stay on her face when she turns her head towards the exit with a sour expression on her face. Ugh, I forgot that guy existed. Okay, someone has a grudge. "You know how we have had a substitute for a week in math? Mr. Wilson, full name: Oliver Wilson, is the actual math teacher." She answers quickly and snappily, seeming not wanting to talk about him. It's okay, I got the hint Ill drop it. Awkward silence quickly fallows. And I regret dropping it.
We continue through the school exit down the small stairs to the place where we are supposed to part ways, me going right towards the school bus stop that's just barely seven meters from where I am standing, and Emma going left towards her apartment that's just 10 minutes from here. I start turning my back towards her and begins to walk away. I make it about three steps before a hand takes my left arm turning me ninety degrease left. She sighs running her left hand through her hair with her right one still holding my arm. "I'm sorry. It's not that I'm mad at you or anything I just really don't like the guy. "He is extremely annoying with a way to care free attitude. And his smile is super creepy." As she thinks the last thing, she shudders with an expression making her look partially scared, partially disgusted. "Hey. It's okay, you don't need to apologies." I quickly say back while putting a comforting hand on her left shoulder. I noticed this a while ago, Emma gets emotional very easily so it's easy to accidently hurt her feelings if you don't know her well. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She raises her head and gives me a grateful smile. Thank you.
When looking around I see my bus about 15 seconds from the bus stop and quickly turn my head toward Emma. "I'm sorry but I really need to go, my bus is coming." I turn around and for the second time today I start walking with the bus stop as my goal only to stop half way and turn around to face Emma to see her already walking in the towards her home. "Emma!" I scream and see her turning around. "I'll see you on Monday, we can start planning our weekend sleep over then." She lights up as a big smile glues to her face and at the same time she nods her head franticly. Okay! A voice happily screams in my head. I hear the bus stopping behind and I turn around quickly and run to the entrance, blip my card and take a seat I the middle of the bus on the right side. Not many people take the bus on Fridays: the reason for all the empty seats.
I don't have to wait to long for the bus to stop right outside mothers' home. I see her black Lamborghini in the spacious drive way while hopping out of the bus. While walking on the stone path leading towards the door, I make sure to be looking down to not accidentally looking her in the eyes for when I see her and check my posture to make sure I'm walking with a straight back, she hates when I don't. I open the door and as usual, its open. The maids know my schedule and unlock the door when my last class ends so it's open when I get home. I walk in, closing the door behind me, locking it as well. I see a couple of boxes on the right side of me, stocked neatly by the wall part of the TV room's wall with the rest being glass so you can look out to the garden. The boxes are all closed using a tape where it said Arizona Nights, I guess its stuff for mothers gathering/party tomorrow. I found out about it under summer break. One of the maids told me that as soon as mother comes home, she was going to hold something party-ish to celebrate the move and that when she was on her business trip, she landed an important deal with a company from Sydney, Australia. I know from the way she said it that I was, as usual, to stay in my room. So, I'm doing exactly that. After all I didn't lie to Emma when I said that I was going to study.
My room was on the second floor that you reached by going up the stairs that were on the far-left side of the house, in the living room. Before going there though I took of my shoes and put them on the floor to the right of me by the hallway wall. Mother and everyone who works here doesn't usually take of their shoes, but I like walking in just my socks. I think its cozy. I turn my body to the stairs and swiftly made my way over there then quietly made my way up and turned right and went in to the first door on the left. When I was younger, like very young, I made a name sign to hang on my door. At the time mother still acted like a mom should so we made it together in our former kitchen. You can really see how its homemade, with a cotton candy blue background and messily written Molly with baby pink glitter. I quietly close the door while facing my room and walked to my desk that's positioned forward in the right corner of my square room. While sitting on my chair in front for my desk I put my shoulder bag in my lap and took out my math homework for next week, as well as all the necessities to finish it.
That's how I used my weekend, finishing the math, science as well as the English homework, the biggest problem probably being keeping my concentration on just that, mothers party started on Saturday afternoon and kept on going with countless different attractions on the schedule, so it ended very early morning on Sunday. Waking up Monday morning wasn't that fun either, I slept only three hours the night before, the smell of alcohol still slightly lingering in the air making it only worse. School starts at eight AM every day so, just as today, I always put a timer to wake up twenty minutes over seven. I get out of bed slowly making my way to my closet, putting on a pair of black high-waisted skinny jeans and a baby blue off-shoulder blouse, keeping my hair straight after brushing it. Taking my school bag with me, I walk out my room and down the stairs quickly noticing my especially quiet surroundings, it being explained to me when I can't see my mother's car through the living room windows. I put on the TV listening to Arizona's NEWS as background noise while making breakfast in the kitchen on opposite side of the house but with no walls closing of the connecting area. "Another child kidnapping took place somewhere between six PM and nine PM yesterday evening in the middle of Scottsdale saying to have connections with the other 7 kidnappings in the area. The thirteen-year-old Emma Rodrigues had a goal of going to the closest food store to her home and then quickly coming home again. The trip should only have taken 20 minutes, but she never got home and have been informally declared missing." The news anchor continued with talking about other events while I stood in front of the TV with a half-eaten sandwich in my right hand staring wide eyed at the screen, processing the former information. Emma, is gone? I mean, I have read about kidnappings accruing in the area all through the year but didn't believe it would be this close.
In my daze I see the bus stop by my house, I will have to think about this when I'm not in shock, I can't think like this. I quickly run to our hallway to put on my shoes, hang my school bag over my shoulder and take my jacket with me just in case. Opening the door, I just run seeing the line of kids shrinking, not thinking of locking the door hoping the maids notice and lock it in my stead. Luckily the bus driver sees me and waits for my arrival, I get on, bleep my card and find an empty seat in the back-right corner. If I would have just had that stupid sleep over with her at her house, then she wouldn't have gone there alone and might have had a better chance fighting back whoever that kidnaping freak is. I feel my hands clenching in my lap and my teeth roughly rub against each other. How could her parents let her out that late on her own? Haven't they heard about the kidnappings in the area? My first friend in years gone after just one week of knowing her. No, I will find her, and we are having that dumb sleep over this weekend.
Should I tell her, or just poke her? I mean the bus have stopped, haven't she noticed? Huh? I look up to see a guy from my class sitting in a chair tree places from me looking nervously in my direction but quickly looks down when seeing that I cough him. No one else is in the bus except some walking out of it, the boy from before now also trying to accomplish the same thing. I stand up and walk to the bus exit my body now on auto pilot while putting my full attention on planning. If she disappeared while going to, or from, the shop then that is the most obvious place to start searching: I don't have any other leads. The police still haven't caught the kidnapper after so long so I can't count on them that much. I have been getting an allowance for some years and have barely used any of it so I should have more than enough for a private detective if its needed. I notice my body stopping in front of my locker and decide to leave the subject occupying my mind to after school pulling out my math book as well as my note book with some pens. That's right. The actual math teacher is supposed to start today. Until proven different my opinion of him will remain the same as Emma's.
When walking in to the classroom I see most of the students sitting like normal but seem way to happy about having math first thing in the morning on a Monday, I guess Mr. Wilson is more popular with the students than I thought. I take the seat furthest in the back on the right side, by the windows. A man, maybe twenty-five years old, walk in six minutes later, a big smile on his face. "Hello kids!" he greets us while putting down the papers he had with him. "Goodmorning!" Some of the kid's greet back while some of the new ones in the class look as confused as I would have been if I didn't know who it was. He does a quick look through on the sitting students, his left eye twitches slightly but I don't think anyone else noticed it. "I see a lot of new students. And I guess by the looks some are given me; an introduction is in order." He pauses, turning to the board with a chalk, writing as he speaks. "My name is Oliver Wilson, you can call me Oliver or Mr. Wilson, it's up to you. I'm 27 years old," eh I was close enough, "and have been teaching math in this school for almost seven months now. I hope I can meet your expectations." For the last part he does a little bow. He raises and then asks if there were any questions for him. One in the middle of the class raises their hand, Oliver quickly points at her as a sign to speak. "I heard you have been sick for a while, are you feeling better?" He chuckles looking down at his shoes but looks up again grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Yes, thank you Melisa. I'm feeling much better." Yet again no one seems to notice the scary glint in his eye or how he is smiling like a psychopath. Another girl raises her hand, takes it down again and without permission asks her question. "Well, what did you do while sick. It was like, hole summer break, right?" Okay, already hate her. What's worse, she was blowing bubble gum while speaking, could she be any more cliché? Ugh no, girl I don't know the name of, I sorry mentally, you know how it is, stress isn't fun so sorry for being mean to you mentally. "Yes, you are right, I was sick for almost two months. And for what I did, I just took care of some bugs." 13-year-old bugs with a pair of arms and legs that is. He chuckles a little for himself. Paus, what did you just say, I mean think? You are officially number one on my list of subjects, containing just you. It seems that I might not need to search the area from ger apartment to the food-store. This ability of mine is making it a lot easier than it would have been originally. "Okay, enough questions, let's start shall we." He picks up the stack of papers that he had with him. "I hope you have been listening to the substitute last week because we are having a pop quiz on the content, she was instructed to teach you." Even if this is a misunderstanding, I would rather follow him after school and be wrong than letting it go and later finding out to be right. Everyone in the classroom is showing their displeasure by loudly groaning, some throwing their heads back with a sigh and some roughly putting their head on their table side looking like they are giving up on life. Now he's standing in front of the class looking at all of us like we are his cherished friends. Emma was right, he is creepy.
Under the school day I planned how I would follow him, how far behind him I would be and what I would do if he drove home. I'm extremely happy right now that I took my jacket with me, its black which means I can wear it over my blue shirt so that I can bland it better. I did some research on him as well, he's not famous but there is always at least a little of information on everyone. He is quite normal except for the thing that he moves every year. Not just cities but states, he moves miles every year, but I can't find a non-written or a written explanation. That's about how weird it gets with him, I might be completely wrong about him but for the moment he is my only lead on Emma's disappearance. I know that the teachers' shifts on Monday's end at five PM so after my last class, I wait in one of the school's bathrooms. While waiting I just read on my phone, I don't want anyone hearing I'm here so the quietest form of entertainment for me was reading, changing every so often to looking through Instagram. When I see the clock on my phone turning 5.15 PM I slowly and quietly walk out the girl's bathroom and make my way to the teachers' lounge. The hallways are deafeningly silent, a feeling of an empty airhorn going of next to my ears is as clear as day. Their door has a window I can look through, into the big room with chairs and messy tables and one very prominent desk light outlining the back of one Oliver Wilson. Now, why haven't you left yet? Finally, I think everyone is gone now. He sighs. This was easier under summer break when it was empty all the time. He turns his desk light of fixing his papers putting it on the corner of his table together with other papers. He stands up and I swiftly turn around hiding in the boy's bathroom hallway peeking from the corner. He walks out the door, closing it behind him and locking it. But instead of going to the exit he goes in opposite direction. Okay, maybe there is a backward exit only teachers use. Not before he gets to the end of the corridor and turn right, I get out of my hiding spot and follow his footsteps hearing them echoing in the dark empty space. It feels like I'm in a horror movie and have taken the character of that one dumb kid that follow the scary sounds. I shake my head disappointed in myself.
I stop by the corner where he turned right and look towards his direction hearing and seeing him slowly without a care in the world walking down the hall while fiddling with a key in his left hand. In that pathway there is no exits, none that I know of anyway. This is just getting creepier and creepier, if he isn't the kidnapper after this, I will honestly be surprised. But then again how would no one know where the kids were if he hid them in a school. He stops in front of a room labelled girls bathroom. Now when I think about, that one has been out of use since a year back, Emma told me. Maybe today she will finally brake tell me what I want to know. While thinking this he unlocks the door and steps inside, fortunately I can't hear him locking it after closing. I run to the bathroom door and put my ear to it, his footsteps are growing quieter every second. Just how big is this bathroom? When I can't hear him anymore, I slowly open the door seeing something not so bathroom like. The actual tiles used in most bathrooms on the floor cover only about half of the ground with the rest being a stair case down and then a path continuing to the right. This is getting ridicules, when was this build and who in their right minds go to these lengths for, well, anything. Should I maybe just call the police and then leave? But what if she really is down there, and I heard what he thought before, I can't just leave her with something like that. I pick up my phone from my right jacket pocket and call 911, I will need backup to help if I go down there and it doesn't work out in my favor. "Nine one one, what's your emergency?" A manly voice asks. "Hello, my name is Molly Anderson. I'm right now in Mountainside Middle school and I think I have found the kidnapped children as well as the kidnapper." I answer quickly and in a hushed tone, even though I closed the door I don't want to risk it. "How old are you?" The man asks in an angry tone. "13, but I can't see how this has anything to do with the task at hand!" I answer back in the same tone, what the hell is he doing. "Mis I have had enough of you and your friends prank calling over this matter, it's incredibly insensitive. "I clench my teeth together. Right now, my patience isn't that high, and he is making me use all of it. "I know its insensitive since one of the kidnapped kids is my friend," I spit out, "and I understand if there have been people prank calling about this subject. But right now, I don't have time for your nagging and/or complaining, I just thought that the police would like to know that if you go straight ahead, left and then open the broken girl's bathroom there is a Goddam basement that's not on the maps and I just saw a very suspicious teacher called Oliver Wilson walk down there opening the door with his own key talking to himself how he hopes a "she" will finally brake and tell him what he wants to know. I'm about to go down that basement because obviously you aren't going to help. So have a good day knowing my, maybe, future blood is on your hands." I growl out before hanging up putting my phone in my jacket pocket after turning it on silent. I take a deep breath calming myself down, I can't make any small mistakes just because I'm angry. I open the door again, complete silence greeting me. With a shaky breath I start going down the stairs looking to the pathway on my right to be met with a faint light at the end of the long tunnel.
I heard soft murmurs coming from the other end that grew louder with each passing step. Softly placing my right hand on the right wall while walking forward, its pitch black so I can barely see what's in front of me. The only sorce of light coming from behind me in the bathroom, and far ahead of me. Coming closer to the end of the tunnel but still out of sight if anyone were to look in, I see a white sterile room shaped like a rectangle with one of the shorter ends being towards me. My eyes quickly catch three sitting forms in a small cage furthest away from me, at the end of the room. They all are sitting with their knees to their chins and their arms around themselves, seeming to shiver, two more so than the other. Something is dropped on the floor creating an echo in the room traveling in the tunnel. I try making myself even smaller while my gaze quickly falls on Oliver who is now crutching down to pick up the needle that fell. Behind him I see a metallic table with papers, more needles and small bottles with liquid in them. He takes three needles from his collection and fill all of them with the liquid from one of the smaller bottles that seems to have been used a lot. I have to say, Boomslang venom really is effective. It's good that I learned how much to give. He chuckles lowly. In the beginning I kept trying with the wrong amount, so they grew crazy a lot quicker than intended. It was fun to watch though. He smiles like in school again, like a psychopath.
When he turns his back to me, walking towards the cage with the three bodies, I quickly look around to find a big bookshelf to the left off me. Its barely thirty centimeters place inbetweener the bookshelf and the wall, I try my luck while his back is facing me and run to quietly hide in said space. "Let's see if-
"Order 37! One medium vanilla latte with a slice of carrot cake!" Amelia looks up from the book hearing the barista yell out her order. She quickly puts the bookmark in the book while putting it on the table, stands up and swiftly walks to the place you order/take your order. Amelia got a little frustrated now when the barista interrupted her reading, she knew it would happen eventually since she ordered but it was still frustrating. Amelia took her order from the barista that she now could see was named "Julia" from her name tag. Julia smiles at Amelia while wishing her a good evening. "Thank you, you to", Amelia response. She, more calmly now, walks to her seat seeing her jacket hanging from the chair she sat on, her school bag sitting on the table in front of her chair while leaning to the right on the window to the right of her tablet. The whole right side of the cafés wall being one big window. The seat Amelia's stuff is on has been her favorite seat for a year and a half now since she started coming here. If you look at it from entering door, it's the seat in the furthest left corner with the place you order just five meters to the right of it. Amelia softly puts the plate with the carrot cake as well as the cup of steaming coffee down on the table next to hers, since they are connected, and she needs to rearrange stuff on her table to be able and fit it all. Since her bag is taking up the most space, Amelia takes it and puts it on the chair next to hers. She sits down and puts the plate and cup in front of her, next to her book.
Amelia started reading this book just ten minutes or so ago, right after she ordered and sat down. It got recommended to her by one of the librarians who told her a summary of it. This girl Molly goes through this experience with her kidnapped friend and in the end managed to save just the two other kids, but not Emma. The police show up in the end and helps her, after all that she gets a new view of the police. She believes them to not being good enough for their jobs. Through the book then, the librarian explained, you follow Molly growing up and becoming a detective, and since she can read minds, she becomes one of the best. She moves state to state to different police headquarters who asks for her help, specializing in kidnappings. Amelia likes pretty much any genre when it comes to books but absolutely fell in love with the summery the librarian told her and just had to borrow it. She can't wait to read about Molly when she is grown up. Amelia picks up the book and opens it where she put the book mark, taking it out and putting it on the last page in the book. Finding the sentence where she had to stop, Amelia continues reading "The Clairvoyant".
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