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random-imagines-blog · 4 years ago

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Empty Walls {Sirius Back x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2380 Summary: A lot of the order is pretty untrusting of any Slytherins joining their midst - but there is one person who accepts you. Warnings: Mentions of character death.

Molly Weasley shoved a plate of food in front of you, so harshly that little puddles of gravy spilt onto the table, making a small mess. You thanked her regardless of her hostility, and cleaned up the gravy with your own napkin, embroidered with your initials. She was a wonderfully sweet woman most of the time - but you just so happened to be a Malfoy. Despite your loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, many of its members still didn’t trust you yet, because of your surname. It was more about that than the fact that you had been in Slytherin, while everyone else around here seemed either to be a Gryffindor or even a Hufflepuff. You tied your blonde hair out of your face and started to eat self-consciously, knowing that there were eyes on you no matter what. Sirius Black’s to be specific. He always seemed to be watching.

The room filled with the sound of eating as everyone dug into Molly’s delicious food. You were the first done, vacating your seat quickly and washed the dish - by hand - in the sink. You had grown up completely spoiled, with the house elves doing all of the cooking and cleaning, so earning your place here had been difficult at first. You didn’t mean to be spoiled. You just couldn’t help how you were raised.

Grimmauld Place. It was dark and it was dingy, but there was one place in this house in particular that you were drawn to. The wall with the family portraits - your own included. All of the little faces of your family, and then the burned out one of Mr. Sirius Black. Your eyes went to your brother and you smirked to yourself. He was painted in that little hat. He always hated that picture, which made you love it even more. You then saw your parents, Lucius and Narcissa. They both looked a little snooty, which was how they tended to appear to the world. But they were never like that when it was just the family together. Your fingers graced your mother’s face. You missed her, a lot. She still sent you owls, and your father would always add his own little notes. They loved you, despite the fact that most of their friends saw you as a traitor. That your actions nearly put a bounty on their own heads, like the rest of the order.

But you were going to help take him down before he could try to collect.

“Do you really like staring at your own face that much?” A deep voice came from behind you. You didn’t turn around. It was Mr. Black himself. He always seemed to be following you around. He was probably the most mistrustful of the lot. You just ignored him, and put your fingers over your father. You missed him as well. His opinion was the one that you had been most scared of - but you were doing what he was too cowardly to do. You were making the right choice.

You didn’t even pay attention to your little portrait. You knew what you looked like. You didn’t give into the vanity that the rest of the Malfoys seemed to have. You preferred knowledge over looks.

“It’s not that bad of a picture. Mine was awful. They made me cut my hair for it, so I looked like some dapper gentleman,” Sirius said. He had come and stood right behind you. You didn’t realize how close he was until then. If you took even one step backwards, you would have bumped into him.

“So it’s a good thing that your place is burnt out then?” You asked.

“I like to think of it more as an empty space,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably paint over the whole damn thing one of these days. Most of these people, I don’t feel like I’m that related to anyway. Like you.��

“We’re hardly related. It’s like ... many branches away,” You said with a shrug. He may be some sort of cousin but it never felt that way to you either. When you looked at him, you saw ... well, a handsome man, even with all of that hair and those tattoos. You had seen photos of him when he was younger and you had some pretty obscene thoughts one should not be having over family members. He’d been, to put it roughly, a hunk. “Why haven’t you painted over it by now?”

“The room needed some sort of decor,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d do with an empty wall.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you’d hang a very flattering portrait of yourself,” You mused, clicking your tongue. “Dorian Gray style.”

“What?” Sirius asked. You laughed then, remembering that someone like him probably hasn’t picked up a book since his time at Hogwarts, let alone one written by a muggle.

“Nothing,” You said, shaking your head. “So what can I help you with? Does Molly need help with something?”

“Why would Molly need help with anything?” Sirius asked, taking a seat in one of his favorite chairs in the bedroom.

“I don’t know - you all seem to think that housework is female only work-” You started but Sirius cut you off.

“Not at all,” He said, shaking his head, those unruly waves flying around him. “I actually wanted to talk to you myself. And it’s really not about housework.”

“Well, talk away,” You said, settling into a chair of your own, facing away from those painted walls.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while now. I knew your father back in school and-”

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the stories,” You interrupted, crossing your legs. “There’s no need to go into a lot of backstory. I know you don’t trust me and that’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Do you always go around making up all of these assumptions?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I don’t distrust you, I actually wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing an amazing job. Especially for someone so young.”

Your mouth went dry at the unexpected praise that he was bestowing on you. “Well, thanks. That actually means a lot to me. It’s been hard, since I had to give up everything but saving the world seems pretty worth it. Wanna tell Molly what you think, because that woman has had it out for me since day one.”

“She’ll come around. She’s just mistrustful of Slytherins, that’s all.”

You were quiet for a couple of minutes there, thinking about all of the times that you had tried to proven yourself to the Order. You had gone out on dangerous missions without hesitation. You had fought people who had once been dear family friends. You were trying to protect the world, which seemed bigger than just one family.

“Guess I just have to give it time - and hope that we have enough of it,” You sighed, realizing there wasn’t much in this situation that you could do. “You’re not so bad yourself, Black. Even if you come from a family of, well, us. Snakes and all.”

“Thanks,” He chuckled. “I’ll take that to heart.”

Since you had already graduated from Hogwarts, you spent a lot of time among the rest of the adults. Molly was finally warming up to you just a little, if only because she had no children to keep her busy now that they were all back at school. You were one of the youngest in the Order, having just left school the year before, and so she doted on you. Or, at the very least, she didn’t make a mess of your food anymore.

“Fancy taking me for a walk?” Sirius asked you one day, leash in hand. You laughed, knowing exactly what he had meant. It was the only way that he could leave this house. Being disguised as Snuffles, the big black dog. And the only way not to get Animal Control called on him was to have someone walk him around.

You nodded, also feeling the need to get out of the stifling nature of the house. Get away from the screams of the portrait and the gloominess that clung around every corer despite you and Molly’s attempt to cheer the place up a bit. Sirius turned into his dog form, and you put the leash and collar on him - which always felt weird, no matter how many times you did it. His tongue lolled out as he grew excited for the fresh air and it was enough to make you laugh.

These walks became more and more frequent - especially because sometimes, when you were in a more isolated part of town, Sirius would turn back into his human self and you would have a coffee and sit in a park, enjoying the early fall nature. You ended up having some really long conversations. About everything. You told him some stories about his godson, Harry, and his friends at school - they were rather infamous and it seemed like you knew a lot about them despite not being in their house. And your brother’s complaints, of course.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were falling for this much older man, despite the age gap and the fact that he had been in Azkaban for years, and that this was hardly the time for love, given the fact that there was a war that was growing in importance more and more each day.

“To the ones that we have lost,” Arthur Weasley said, raising his glass in toast over his head.

It was not a happy occasion that you were celebrating here tonight, back at Grimmauld Place. “To the ones that we have lost,” you toasted back in return. And then you drank deeply from your flask - Firewhiskey having become a solace these days.

Sirius was taking things particularly hard - the war may be over, but the cost of that victory was entirely too high. He was tearing himself apart about it, but you couldn’t blame him. He lost his only other best friend. And the Weasleys had lost two sons - one to death, and one to the attack of a werewolf, though Bill was pulling through swimmingly.

You stood up slowly, which garnered the attention of the rest of the people around you. “I can’t be here,” You admitted, finding it too hard to be around loved ones, when they weren’t exactly the ones that you wanted.

You went down the hallway into the room with the family portrait on it, your wand in your hand as you closed the door, but you did not lock it. “What have you done to be remembered for?” You asked the portrait of yourself, and of your parents.

“I think this is a long time coming,” Sirius said, staggering into the room. “Patat Pingere.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, as the paint started to peel off of the walls, and then dissolve into nothing, leaving only the bare baseboards that they must have been before the family tree. You watched as you, your parents and the rest of them just seemed to disappear, like you never existed.

“You deserve to be remembered,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of all of that white. “So we’ll repaint you now, as you are. And... and Remus. And Tonks. And Fred... the others...”

You nodded, looking at the potential of it now. All of the noble house of Black had disappeared, and most of them were better off being remembered - entirely unlike everyone that you had just lost, and whose death was still pulling at your heart.

“And yours,” You said, looking over at Sirius. You were surprised to see that his head was down, and a sob racked through his entire body, and he was barely keeping himself upright.

You rushed to his side and took his weight upon your shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying him to his favorite chair and helped to lower him into it. He didn’t let you go, so you had no choice but to sit with him. You curled up in his lap like a kitten, and he held you while sobbing into the shoulder of your robes.

You were through with crying - you’ve made yourself dehydrated with it and nothing ever seemed to get better, but seeing Sirius like this was still draining nonetheless. “You’re not completely alone Sirius - you have me.”

That seemed to help somewhat, for his shoulders stopped shaking as much, but he did continue to hold onto you tightly, making sure that you could not leave, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay and make sure that he knew - that he knew that you would not leave him.

“I love you.”

You weren’t expecting that from him, especially not at this time, but you began to run your fingers through the dirty, straggly hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it. I can’t take anything more, I just-”

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. Even when he was in the middle of a fight, with spells going around him, narrowly missing him, he usually had some excitement showing on his face. But this was a defeated man, who seemed ready to break at the slightest negativity.

“I mean it, with every bit of me. I really, truly do,” You told him, detangling a few knots with your fingers, your wand having dropped on the floor when it seemed like he was falling. “I love you, Sirius Black.”

“Can we fix this - these empty walls?” Sirius’s head rose just a little.

You nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which had the same expression as a dog that had just been kicked. “Yes, I think we can. I know we can. Let’s start tomorrow.”

#Sirius Black #Sirius Black x reader #Sirius Black oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #siriusb #x reader

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weasleyslag · 4 years ago

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i’m not coming home | p.w

summary: A collection of letters between Percy and his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater following his estrangement from his family.

pairing(s): Percy Weasley/Penelope Clearwater

wc: 6.2k (lol I’m sorry)

warning(s): heavy cursing, hella toxic relationship, no happy ending

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30644294

Dear Percy,

See, I told you I would write! I really am so proud of you and your new job. I hope you’ll allow me to come visit your new apartment soon. I know you’re very busy, but maybe not too busy for me? My dad told me he’d pay for my stay in London if you invited me, but I think it’d be more fun for me to stay with you and go to a show or something. I heard there’s some good muggle performances down there, I’d be interested to see that sort of thing. It’d be an good change, I’m up to my head with wizards that think they’re so talented.

Please tell me all you can about your job when you write back! I know it must be super under wraps, being the Junior Assistant to Fudge himself, but I would be interested in knowing the most mundane of things you can tell me, it would most certainly be more enthralling than the highlight of any of my days. I was hoping I’d be promoted to something more dignified by now, but they’ve still got me watching over some of the Ministry workers’ children. You know I like kids, but I’d rather not be a glorified babysitter. There’s not even many learning activities I can do with them, I’m pretty much instructed to do puppet shows and other silly tasks for them all day. Hopefully someone recognizes my potential soon. Maybe since you work with Fudge now, you can say something to him???

I hate to turn this letter sour but Fred and George have gotten into contact with me this week. They’re really worried about you. They said that they’ve all written to you and the letters are always sent back, unopened. You must know this hurts them, why don’t you at least read the letters? You know they love you and I know that you really are kind at heart; you must still have love for them. I know it must have been hard for you to hear that after all your efforts, your dad doesn’t believe you’re capable of receiving such a prestigious job on your own merits. But of course they are all paranoid, what with all that happened last Spring. I hope you can find it within yourself to be the bigger person and reconcile with your family. Maybe they’ve even apologized in their letters, you’ll never know unless you read them. Don’t read Fred’s though, he’s more mad than the rest of them. I’m sure he’s thrown every name in the book at you.

I hope my next letter will be in better spirits. I hope Hermes is doing well and I hope even more so that you will adjust to life in London well.

With Love,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I cannot express with words how excited I was to receive your owl. I hope you don’t mind that I kept her for a few days, Hermes adores her and she reminds me of you. However, I also had to keep her back because it took quite some time to give you an adequate response to everything you said in your letter.

Hermes and I are well. He hasn’t adjusted as well as I have, but I understand. The air is polluted and there’s not much room for him to roam. There’s no forests in sight, only a bunch of buildings. If I wasn’t taking your letters, I would send him back to the Burrow. He was happier there and besides, the ministry has provided me a new owl for business letters.

I, on the other hand, am doing the best I ever have been. I am extremely efficient with my work and I appear to be pleasing my superiors. In my off time, I watch live shows and read. I have been getting into some Muggle classics, like War and Peace. Their culture is quite interesting, although ours is clearly superior. I am glad I am nourishing my mind as much as I can, I only wish there wasn’t so much noise outside my apartment. Jackhammers and traffic is all l I hear all day. It gets old fast. I’m not sure if you would like it here, but I would be happy to have you if you wish to visit. Although, I thought about your proposal to stay with me and I must decline. I would love to and I am sure my hormones would have a field day, but your father wants you to stay somewhere else and merely visit me during the day, trying to trick him would be wrong. I am sorry, but rules are rules, even when it comes to you.

I will speak with Fudge about your employment. I am a bit nervous to do so but I think he likes me, so I will certainly try. You’re a very smart girl and I believe if they just took notice of how you applied yourself, they’d move you up the ranks swiftly. It would be a shame to let such an academic be reduced to a daycare worker. That seems like something my mum would do if she worked. And you certainly surpass her when it comes to brains and ambition.

Dismayed is an understatement for how I feel knowing that my family has taken advantage of our relationship to try to shake me. I do not wish to speak to them now, I will only speak to them when they realize that I am right, which I hope won’t be much longer. You’re right, of course, I do have love for them, even Fred and George, but I can not continue a relationship with people that discount my accomplishments and constantly laugh at my expense. Reading their letters is pointless. I read the first letter I received from Charlie and although he tried to be eloquent, he still wasn’t seeing things my way. He was basically just regurgitating everything my dad had said, just in a kinder way. He and Bill have always been the most sensible so I see no point in attempting to read the other letters, they will only be worse versions of Charlie’s. I will admit that curiosity got the better of me, however. A letter from Fred came in the same day as yours. You were right, it was awful. I shouldn’t have expected anything more, however, that boy is barely literate. Here is a snippet of his abomination of a letter (I have fixed the spelling mistakes, there’s no reason to subject you to that):

“You are a massive cunt, you know that? After all mum and dad have done for you. Seriously? I can’t even call you a prat anymore, that’s just an insult to prat’s. You’re a slag for Fudge and we all know it. If you wanted to give him a good rimming, you could have just said so instead of causing us all this grief. Well not me, I don’t give one fuck about you. You could be in a ditch tomorrow for all I care. And maybe you will be, Fudge and his friends would just as well see you there as in an office. How could you choose him over your own mother? I hope you’re happy that you make her cry every night. I hear that you get paid three times dad’s salary and you have sent home not one knut. But twats like you don’t care about their family, huh? Enjoy your cushy apartment, I hope when you open the windows, a pigeon flies in and takes a shit on your head.”

Isn’t it just terrible? And it’s all one huge paragraph too, with unbearably non-flowy sentences. He is a right idiot if he thinks I’d ever want to respond to that. And why would I want to send money to people who treat me like that, anyway? I can’t put myself into his pea brain so I guess I will never know. Please make me take your advice next time so that I won’t have to subject myself to that kind of torture.

As for what happened this Spring, I’d rather not talk about it. The Ministry says that you-know-who is not back, so I’m afraid Harry must have been lying. Perhaps he had a fever and hallucinated the whole thing. I don’t hate him, by the way. I know my family must be trying to convince you of that but it is just not true. I think he is foolish and many adults are using him as a pawn. It’s sad, really. My family has gotten so desperate that they made Hermione and Harry write me letters too. I had already been informed by Fudge himself to turn over any correspondence from Harry, so of course I did that. I do wish I had the forethought to read the letter first, I’m very curious about it now, but oh well.

I care for you very much and hope we can arrange a visit soon.

With Even More Love,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I was hoping this letter would be more positive than the ones we have exchanged lately and that perhaps we could even arrange my trips to London, but I have gotten some terrible news. And I will not believe it until you confirm it.

There is a nasty rumour going around that you are to be court scribe for the Wizengamot in Harry’s trial. Say it isn’t true, Percy! I know it’s such an honor to work so closely with the Wizengamot, you’d be the youngest person in all of history to work as a scribe for them. But at what cost? Harry is your friend. I’ve been spending more and more time with your family and I consider Harry to be a friend now, too. I know the details of the case, and I’m sure you must since you’re apparently working it. Even if you don’t care for him, you must understand that objectively, Harry is in the right, at least morally. He was saving his cousin. The cousin that he grew up with and besides the kid being an absolute terror, he was basically his brother. Wouldn’t you cast magic to save your brothers or sister? How can you work for a case like that when you know you’d do the same as Harry?

I love you, I really do, and that’s why this breaks my heart so much. You’re turning into something that you aren’t for the sake of ambition. Please don’t do this. Come home and if Fudge truly does value you as much as you think, he will continue working with you even after you are on good terms with your family again. You must be missing them, aren’t you?

I will have to postpone the trip to London until you get all this figured out. I hope you understand. I am always open for you to come back here to visit me. We could all meet for dinner at the Burrow, where you belong.

I don’t have much else to say. I’m scared about what’s happening in the world and I’m nervous for you. I miss you, but I’m not sure if the you I miss is still you.

P.S: Tell Hermes I love him.

xxxx,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

You have heard right, at least about the Wizengamot. I beg of you not to let my family poison your mind. Clearly, they want everyone to think I’m a terrible person. If they had it their way, we wouldn’t even be together right now. It’s not their fault, really, they suffer from cognitive dissonance, but they only think with their heart. That’s not sustainable and most certainly not how the world works. The court specifically wants me to be scribe and like you acknowledged, that is a huge honor. This is really going to help me get ahead even further. You know I have big dreams. I’d like to be the Minister one day and having all this under my belt would be a big help.

I really am not allowed to be discussing the case with the public, but I suppose I will make a tiny exception for you. I can’t help but have a soft spot for you; I musn’t make bending the rules for you a habit. You’re lucky I’m even physically able to say anything. The Ministry is heavily monitoring all the mail that comes in and out from high ranking members, but they haven’t done that with me yet (as far as I know, at least). I guess it must be because I’ve been so loyal and I won’t even receive my family’s letters, so they trust me. Little do they know that I have a weakness for you.

As of right now, I’m not too worried about Harry (of course, they might change when court is in session and I get all the details). I think his case makes sense. I’ve poured through court cases similar to this one, although the defendants were never as much of a public figurehead as Harry (but that shouldn’t matter, the Wizengamot is totally unbiased and will not take Harry’s fame into account when deciding a verdict), and every court case similar to this ended in a not guilty verdict. I am not sitting as a court scribe to try to lock Harry away, it’s just my job. I don’t approve of him, but let’s not pretend like I never want him to see the light of day again. Anyway, I was surprised that someone that possesses your caliber of intelligence relied so hard on pathos to convince me that being a court scribe is wrong. Everyone knows emotion is a flimsy argument and certainly has no place in the courtroom. The fact that he saved a muggle’s life will definitely be brought up in court, but it won’t be because it’s someone he cares for. It’ll be because we have all sorts of laws about self defense and protecting each other, even a few about protecting muggles. I fear you might not have a place high up in the ministry if you continue preferring pathos to logos. And anyway, you trying to my emotion by bringing up my family makes no sense. My family are wizards, so if it came down to it, I could protect them and it wouldn’t be against the law. It’s not my fault that my family is better than those Dursley’s.

I really must beg of you to stay away from my family and especially from Harry. That will probably not end well for you. Do not mistake that for a threat, I’d never hurt you, but I’m being realistic. Harry is off the rails and my family blindly believes him. In my opinion, Harry needs to be in a mental hospital, not roaming around as a public figure where everyone hangs on to his every word. He clearly suffers from PTSD after all he went through as a child between his parents being murdered in front him, a very powerful dark wizard trying to to murder him, and the muggle abuse he endured. And that’s not even mentioning all the pressure the world, especially Dumbledore, has put on him. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just insane. If the adults around him cared as much as they say they do, they’d put him away for a while until he can heal. But they won’t, that’s the problem. And now I hear that little Ginny is in love with him. I have never in my life been so in despair. I can’t help but think how bleak her future will be. Maybe I should write a letter to her. I doubt she’ll listen, but I do need to try.

I really do hope you decide to come visit me. Maybe I can speak with your father and come to an honest agreement about you living with me soon enough. I am really lonely here and I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. It seems my family and I will never get along again and I have no one else besides you. I have all this extra income so I think it might be practical for me to marry you. Then, you wouldn’t have to hear all this rubbish from my family in order to feel close with me. I will speak with him about it soon. It’s not really all that bad here and even if you’re not good enough to have a real job in the Ministry, that’s okay. I make enough money and I do want a lot of kids anyway. It wouldn’t be practical for you to have a demanding long term job.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

Maybe I am a sensitive fool but I found much of your letter to be highly offensive. You essentially called me unintelligent throughout the letter, then didn’t ask but rather told me that you would be marrying me (only caring about what my father would say, not me). And to top it all off, you told me I was to be your personal incubator while you get to have an actual job. It’s insulting, really. What if I don’t want to do that, did you even consider that? I care for you and I believe I always will but I am not in a place right now where I fancy marrying you. I think I’d rather tie the knot with one of twins or Charlie. Besides, I felt unsettling how you alluded to muggles being lesser beings. They most certainly are not, they’re just different than us. I don’t know how I can be with someone that sees a whole group of people as lesser than them.

I must not have too much respect for myself. After all, I felt all those things that I wrote in the first paragraph, yet I’m still writing to you. What terrible damage love can have to the brain. I think I know how this whole thing will turn out, yet I still hope against my better judgement that we will end up together. I will try to put this past me if you can promise to not be so cruel.

Things are the same as always in my life. Spending most of the time with Mother and Father and the rest tending to children. I think I might die of boredom. I have been thinking about becoming a Hogwarts teacher, at least it would be less degrading than playing babysitter for a bunch of toddlers. Curiously enough, I received a letter from Snape about receiving a position, not Flitwick. He liked me well enough back in school, but I definitely didn’t think he would ever think about contacting me for a teaching role. I didn’t think he ever thought much about any student that wasn’t a Slytherin. I think maybe he sees himself in me. You know I was treated pretty horribly throughout school and something tells me he might have gone through a similar experience. That aside, however, he wrote me a letter requesting my presence to a meeting in a few weeks. It’s a meeting with all the current teachers, so I’m quite nervous about it. They want to speak with me about a new class, I think, it wasn’t any sort of curriculum I was familiar with. Still, I’m heavily considering it. It would be a big step up. I am a little worried about moving out there, but I think I’ll be alright.

I know you act like you don’t care about how your family is doing, but that’s all it is, an act. So I will at least tell you the good parts. I’m sure you’ve seen by the addresses of the letters that they’re still sending you (because they care), they have moved. The Order has been restored, we’d all love to have you there, although I don’t have much hope that you would consider joining. Even Charlie and Bill have come back and joined. They miss you and I think they’re more than a little disappointed. Ginny is dating a kid named Michael Corner, not Harry. I’m sure you’re over the moon about that. Ron and Hermione have become prefects. That’s really good news, yeah? I’m not quite sure how Ron snagged it, but he did.

I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about any more conflict with you, so I won’t even bring up what you said at Harry’s trial. Just know I’m disappointed. What, I will say, however, is that it was so cruel that you didn’t even speak with your own father once court ended. I know you knew he was there. Look, I have a really bad feeling about the future and I can’t help but fear that something bad is going to happen and you’re going to regret being such an ass to them.

This letter was all over the place, I apologize. I just have all these emotions and you don’t seem to understand. Or if you do understand, you don’t care. I don’t know which is worse.

Take care,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I apologize for my behavior in my last letter. You’re right, I was only thinking of myself. I’ve just been by myself so much that I guess I find it hard to think about what other people want. I hope you can forgive me. Truly though, I think we could reconcile easier if you met me out in London. Of course only corresponding through letters has led to a strain.

Please brace yourself, because I know if you do not prepare for what I’m about to tell you, you will be very mad at me. I consulted with Fudge and we have decided that you shouldn’t become a teacher at Hogwarts. It’s not a good look for me and it’s safe for you. Dumbledore is off his rocker, I’m not going to allow you to be put in harm's way. Fudge has sent a letter to Hogwarts, strongly suggesting that they find a new candidate for their position. I agree that the role is important, kids need to learn, and you would have been a great teacher. But it’s not the right time for you. I know you will probably be royally pissed for a while, but you’ll get over it. I did it for your own good. I hope you will be happy to hear that I have talked to Fudge about you having a proper job in the Ministry and he agrees. He will be writing to you with an offer soon enough. All’s well that ends well, you get a safer, higher paying job. And you can be near me!

Yes, I knew that my family had moved. I hope they move back soon, it’s not safe for them there. You’re right, someone is going to get hurt. I can feel it in my bones. And of course I will be utterly inconsolable, but it will not be my fault if something happens. It will be Dumbledore’s and inadvertently, Harry’s. I would love to give my family advice, but I know they will not listen. Therefore, there’s no point in writing letters. Besides, even if I did want to write to them, I think Fudge would catch on and have someone start monitoring my mail. I trust the Ministry completely, but I still find it’s in my family’s best interests if the Ministry doesn’t know their exact going on’s.

I heard Ron became prefect. I’m very proud. I wrote him a letter, which the Ministry read (and unfortunately a few unkind edits to, but I’m sure it was for good reason), congratulating him. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s received it. He hasn’t written back. Maybe Dumbledore has started screening letters? I’m proud of Hermione too, although I didn’t write her a letter. You seem to speak with the lot of them often, so please send her my congratulations. She’s such a smart and sweet girl, she’s a good match for Ron (I can tell he likes her). I would have preferred a Pureblood but oh well, she’s better than most muggles. Oh and speaking of people dating, yes I am very pleased that Ginny has found a nice guy that’s not Harry.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

Before I write anything else, I must address your hilarious claim that Dumbledore is monitoring letters. Ron got your letter, read it, then proceeded to burn it. He found it very offensive. He’s not happy with you, so maybe don’t send him more letters.

Fred and George are still mad, more than everyone else. George invited me out last week, I think only because he knew it would get a rise out of you. Fred’s the maddest of them all, as you know so well from his letters, but he’s with Angelina Johnson, so he couldn’t take me on the “jealousy date”. I don’t really fancy George, don’t worry, and I don’t think he fancies me. I must admit, however, that it was a nice time. It was a welcome change to listen to someone talk to me about their interests instead of being obsessed with a job. It was even more welcome that he asked me questions back and seemed to actually care about my responses. My favorite thing, though, was going out with someone that cared so much for their family. Someone that not only understood romantic love, but also platonic and familial love. I’d been missing that part of you for a while. But like I said, I don’t fancy him. I didn’t even let him kiss me. I feel guilty about it all, of course, I’d like to come down to London and try to get things in our relationship to run smoothly again.

Also, yes, I am very upset that you had that letter written to Hogwarts. You totally crossed a line and if I had any balls, I would have broken up with you over it. But alas, I really do want to make it work. This is another thing that I think we need to work on together. In London. Please tell me your thoughts.

With care,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

Literally, what the fuck? I saw red when I read your letter. You. Went. Out. On. A. Date. With. My. Brother? And the little traitor tried to kiss you? I had half a mind to challenge him to a duel. But you’re right, he’s just trying to get me to act out and he will not get that out of me. There are so many problems with our relationship right now and I cannot bear to let you go, so we must meet and work things out immediately. And I’m not coming home, so you must come here. I’ve taken a week off at the Ministry, please arrive here as soon as you receive this letter. I will not be bested by the likes of George Weasley and a few other misunderstandings I may have thrown your way.

No need to write back,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I am so glad we had that meeting in London! I really do feel like we’ve fixed things. It makes me so happy that you have agreed not to be so unkind with your words in the future. And as promised, I have decreased contact with your family and all the other members of the Order. George has written me about a dozen letters since then, checking up on me and filling me in on what’s going on with your family. But as promised, I have not written back. If I expect you to uphold your part of the agreement, I must hold myself to the same standard.

I think I will take that secretary job Fudge offered me. It’s not all that you made it out to be, but at least I can be near you. I’m still too wary to marry you, after all it hasn’t been too long since we were falling apart, but I think it would be nice to be physically closer to you. I’ll see what I can do in terms of flats, since you’re too prudish to lend me room in yours.

Love you lots,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I don’t have much time to write at the moment, I’m very busy, so please excuse the short letter. I, too, am glad we are doing better. It was impacting my efficiency at work and I could not have that. I’m just glad there’s no more Fred and George, they were trying to hijack your mind and make it theirs. Besides, I have heard from more than one female that has come into contact with them, that they are basically a pair of incubi. I know you think I’m dramatic when I say that, but those two boys have turned evil, I know it. I should have seen the clear signs. It was so obvious from the time that they were little boys, chasing poor Ron with spiders.

Thank Godric that you are coming to join me at the Ministry! I can keep a close eye on you there, make sure you’re safe. I know the job isn’t glorious, but not everyone is as fortunate as me. You have to work your way up. I know you’ll have a very important job in no time. And I never said I wouldn’t let you live with me by the way, I said that I didn’t want your father to become cross with me. You really shouldn’t call me a prude, or do you not remember what all went in London when you came to visit? I didn’t think it was quite that forgettable, but I’ll just have to remind you when you move here.

Love,

Percy

Dear Percy,

I’m sorry for the distance between letters. I meant to write, I really did, but everything went to shit here. I know I said I would distance myself from your family, but George wrote to me and said that your father is in the hospital. So now I’m back to semi-living with them. Did you not read your mother’s letter about it, Percy? She marked it “urgent” on the envelope. Your father was utterly distressed that you didn’t even write, much less visit him. It made his recovery harder and longer. Don’t you still care even a little bit? What if he had passed, wouldn’t you have felt so guilty?

Also, your mother collapsed and fell into a fit of tears when you sent your Christmas jumper back. Why didn’t you just keep it? It would have spared her feelings, even if you think you’re too good for the sweaters now. She made me a sweater, I loved it. But oh well, please think about the repercussions of your actions on others. You’re making it very hard on all of us. Also, Fred wants me to let you know that he wants to bring back drawing and quartering just for you. George is more straight to the point, vowing to castrate you if you two ever cross paths again (by the way, they both thought your incubus comment was very funny, I think it inflated their ego).

I know you are on the Ministry’s side, saying that Voldemort is NOT back, which is horseshit and you know it. But you do know who attacked your father, yes? Surely that should be enough proof for you. You’re very smart, why are you letting an institution think for you?

With peace and love,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I am slightly dismayed that you didn’t keep up with your end of our agreement, going back to speak with my family. I do understand, though, my father’s attack was a shock and could have ended tragically. I know he’s better now, though, so please cease contact again.

On a similar note, yes, I did read Mum’s letter and know that he was in the hospital. I sent flowers anonymously, if that means anything to you. And I kept tabs on him from the Ministry. If I felt that things were going downhill and he wasn’t going to make it, I would have visited. But he was fine, so it’s not a big deal. Maybe he will learn to not poke his head where it doesn’t need poking from now on.

As for the sweater, it’s not that I didn’t want to keep it. I love her sweaters, I wear some of the old one sometimes. But keeping the sweater would have sent a completely wrong message and given her false hope. So really, sending it back was a selfless act.

I know you want me to say that You-Know-Who is back. But you just don’t understand. I represent the Ministry now. What they say goes. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my own thoughts, it simply means that I stand with them.

Just wanted to remind you that you’re very beautiful and I miss your kind heart. I can’t wait for you to move here.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

I am most certainly NOT moving to be with you in London after the stunt you pulled. Betraying Dumbledore and holding Harry in place whilst being questioned by Fudge? What a dick move. I don’t know what I expected, you provided me all the warning signs. I guess that when it mattered, you’d do the right thing. Now I see how wrong I was. I need some time to myself, and you need to think over in your heart why you thought it was okay to do what you did. You just better be glad that Fudge sent you out before you got smacked the fuck up by Dumbledore.

From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, fuck you

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

This is the fifth letter I’ve sent to you in a row with no response, please answer. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed, really I am, but I’ve dug myself too deep. I miss you, I miss Ginny, I miss Charlie, I miss Bill, I miss Ron, I miss Mum and Dad. I even miss Fred and George. But it’s too late. I wish I had seen it before. They were right, you were right. I can’t let them know that. I feel so ashamed. I want to help them, but I also want to never bother them again. I saw You-Know-Who in the Ministry. I know all along that he was back, but I kept denying it for my job. But now I don’t have my family and I don’t have you, so my job is all I have. Please know that anything you see from me from this moment forward doesn’t represent my heart. You’re right, I don’t remember how many letters ago it was, but you said I wasn’t the person you fell in love with. You couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any better. There’s barely any left of that Percy, just his shell. So really, I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. I’m not the person you committed to. But I still love you. It’s total wishful thinking that I can have you back, but hoping is the only thing that keeps me from going insane. Bill wrote me a letter saying that he was engaged. I don’t want to face my family but I’ll go if I can see you.

Love, Percy

Percy,

I felt like I should write you one last letter because despite myself, I still care. I want to give you closure. It’s clear to me that you’re never coming home, which is clear symbolism that you are never going to do the right thing. You said it yourself in your letters, you’re digging your heels in and standing by the ministry. You’re a filthy coward.

Yes, Bill is getting married in a few months. We’re all very busy with preparations, it seems like that’s the only good thing that’s happening around here. You have an invitation, of course, but you shouldn’t come if you just want to see me. If I see you, I will make a scene and there will be more than just mashed parsnips being thrown at you (yes, Fred and George told me about how you visited just for the benefit of the Ministry. It’s pathetic, really). Your mum is convinced you will show up to the wedding and everything will be magically better. I know you better than that. I wish I was in blissful ignorance and thought you still loved us all, but you don’t. You’re not going to be able to get your head out of your ass until it’s one of us that’s laying lifeless somewhere because of the monsters of people that the Ministry have allowed to roam for so long. I know where you stand and you know where I stand. So there’s nothing else to say.

I’m sending back all the things of yours that I have. You should receive them all with this letter. Please write back if I missed anything.

Sincerely,

Penelope Clearwater

#percy weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #hp #hp fanfic #harry potter

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brickercupmasterx3 · 4 years ago

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“Confessions in the Darkened Room”-

AN: I’m NOT exactly too proud of this fic and I’m still going back and forth on it, but I shared it with a friend (you know who you are) and she said it was fine... So I’ve decided to post it anyway? (I’m going to log off for the rest of the day so I don’t feel tempted to delete this minutes after I posted it. However when tomorrow comes, don’t be surprised if I do delete this post.)

And no, this was NOT the second fic I had in mind that I mentioned on my Lukanette blog.

These deal with my own headcanons dealing with Feloe (Felix x Chloe pairing). This ship has little to no content, and I’ve been kinda into it lately. So yeah... Here’s my (terrible, imo) contribution. (If I do end up drawing them eventually, that’s why. They’re a fun pair and I have a few story lines prepared for them. I’m NOT planning to write them out though.)

(I would also like to apologize in advance if anything seems out of place or rushed? I tried my best to make things organic, but anymore and I probably would have screwed this up further.)

Anyways, I’m done talking. So here. Enjoy?

______________________________

First thing Chloe knew, she was arguing with the most insufferable guy she’s ever known and the next, the two were shoved inside a closet. She had no doubt about who pushed them, considering there was only one other person in the room, aside from herself, that knew about her feelings for the boy.

It had been around half an hour since the two blondes were locked inside the closet, neither having said a word since then. Chloe knew she’d have to say something sooner or later, but when? There was never a right time to admit to someone who had brought you down and made you feel inferior all your life that you’ve grown feelings for them, could there?

Felix sighed, clearly annoyed at the situation they were forced into. While it wasn’t in the most pleasing of circumstances, at least this provided him the space to get some closure with the girl. She may have those infuriating moments when all she can talk about is Adrien, but lately, throughout their whole “fake dating” scene… He’d found himself falling for her more than he thought possible.

He enjoyed the closeness and getting to know her more, in and out of character. He’d memorized her facial expressions, the sound of her laughter, her touches… Basically everything… Not that he’d admit it aloud to the blonde girl at all. Otherwise, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“So… What’d you want to talk about?” Chloe asked, trying to speed things along so that she wouldn’t have to be trapped with him any longer than necessary. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather get out of here as soon as possible. Don’t exactly find it thrilling to spend too much time with you.”

He rolled his eyes at her usual antics. “Not like spending time with you is any picnic either.”

“If I’m that revolting to you, then why ask me to play the role of your fake girlfriend?” She asked, awaiting for whatever response he’d be willing to give her. His responses were always the same, and she knew she shouldn’t have hoped for anything different, but she could dream.

“I needed a favor, Chloe. You fit the bill and that was it.” He responded, keeping it short.

"That's all you ever say." She said, crossing her arms. "Sometimes, it just feels like you're this emotionless robot with the same practiced lines. Is there really nothing else on your mind?"

"Why does it even matter to you? The only person you ever cared about was Adrien!" He shouted, just about done with her.

"I can't believe you…" Chloe started, anger evident in her eyes. "That's honestly what you think? Even tracking back to our childhood where I tried so hard to be your friend? Need I remind you that you rejected me?"

"Did you really expect me to take your friendship?" He looked over to her, returning her glare. "And watch you become another one of those annoying fangirls of Adrien's?"

"Did you really think so lowly of me then that you couldn't find a single ounce of genuineness in my eyes then?" She looked away from him, trying so hard to conceal all those horrible childhood memories. "Of course you did. After all, I played my part perfectly well… The bratty, spoiled rich kid who wanted nothing but to be part of the Agreste family. No matter the cost…"

“Are you seriously trying to get me to buy into that?” Felix looked at her as if she was crazy. “Would you stop trying to make up excuses to justify your petty behavior from back then? And just take responsibility for what you really are.”

“Responsibility? For what exactly?" Chloe shouted, more than fed up with his attitude. "Do you really think that this is what I wanted for myself? You don't know me! You never tried to get to know me, even with the several chances offered to you!"

"Why exactly would I want to? You've shown your true colors and by the way you're acting right now, you're not making yourself look any better." He said matter of factly.

"Ugh!" She groaned. "Fine! Think whatever you want about me! I'm done trying with you… Done with this stupid arrangement of ours altogether!"

“We had a deal… You can’t just back out of it now.” “Why not? You’re insufferable, Felix! You constantly treat me like trash, bring me down all the time with your pathetic insults and just expect me to sit there and take it like I’m inferior to you!” The blonde girl knew she couldn’t normally act out like this in public, but considering Sabrina locked them inside to talk feelings, that’s precisely what she was going for. “Well… You’re not any better than I am. These petty feelings you say I have, well, you have the same ones towards Adrien. Neither of us get why, because you refuse to tell us anything.”

“That’s hardly any of your business.” came his simple reply. “I didn’t ask you to help me out with this in order for us to get to know one another better. I could care less about your opinion on any matter. I simply just needed someone around to get that annoying Bridgette out of my life. You just fit the part.” “So… You’re just using me?” Chloe laughed, of course it was moreso a fake one, not that he’d know the difference. She needed to save her pride, not give him the satisfaction that he’d gotten to her yet again. It was just as she’d feared, wasn’t it? He never cared about her, no matter what she did. “Of course, you are… It never mattered how well I played the doting girlfriend part… Nothing can ever satisfy you.”

He just stared blankly at her, rolling his eyes at her usual dramatics. “Are you done yet?”

“As done as I am with you…” She responded, rolling her eyes at him.

How she fell for him over his nicer, denser cousin, Adrien, she wouldn’t understand. In ways, Adrien was everything she should have desired. He had the status, the cash, the looks… Those were the things she was supposed to chase after for the sake of her mother’s approval. Chloe was a Bourgeois. And Bourgeois’ don’t settle for anything less than the best.

But that wasn’t what she wanted for herself… Adrien just wasn’t it for her.

While he was kinder, sweeter, most endearing and at times a bit more understanding than his jerk of a cousin… Adrien couldn’t understand most social cues, which was indeed beyond frustrating. Nor could he tell the difference between liking someone as a “friend” or more. The boy had been sheltered from the real world for the majority of his life, she knew that and she couldn’t fault him for those things… And she didn’t… but she knew he’d never be more to her than just that childhood friend she adores…

And it hurts, because loving him would’ve been easier… Adrien wouldn’t reject her out of malice, unlike Felix. He’d do his best to let her down easy, if he came to figure out her feelings, because first and foremost, the two were friends. And the Agreste boy obviously treasured the Bourgeois girl as family, just as she did him.

Chloe then resigned to sit down at the farthest corner from Felix, quietly mumbling something under her breath as she finally registered her thoughts.

“If you have something to say, come out with it.” The boy said. He was a no-nonsense kind of guy and mumbling just wasn’t his style.

“Why would you care so suddenly? I’m of no interest to you.” She said softly, hiding her face between her legs… If she’d said anymore, her feelings would probably be out in the open and he’d know.

Felix had been witness to many of Chloe’s outbursts… but this? This wasn’t one of them.

She was never this quiet or reserved around him. She always had something to say and that's how he liked it. Chloe may be loud, annoying, spoiled and all-around self centered from what he'd seen, but he wouldn't have it any other way… So why the sudden change in attitude?

He tried to reach out to the other blonde, but his attempt was met by a slap. She clearly was in no mood to entertain him, much too lost in her thoughts to do much else. It didn't help matters that she was shaking either.

Had he really upset her that much?

"Chlo, come on. Just come out with it." He insisted.

She didn't budge, just kept her head down and ignored his words. If he wasn't going to listen to her at all, then she wouldn't either. It was a two-way street after all.

_______________________

Within the next fifteen minutes or so, her breathing had finally evened out again. Chloe couldn’t even bother herself to give him the time of day at all anymore. She’d finally raised her head and stood up silently, making her way back to the door.

“Sabrina... Whatever it is you thought was going to be resolved here isn’t going to happen… So just open the door, will you?” She spoke, still pretty soft, but a little louder than the response she'd given Felix just minutes ago. Chloe couldn't be bothered to yell out as angrily as she’d had done when she and Felix were both thrown inside.

Unluckily for her, there was no response from her redheaded friend on the other side of the door. Though she supposed it was to be expected, not that she could blame her.

The blonde girl then sighed again. Not only was she stuck with the guy she liked, but she wasn't even close to being in control of her own emotions either. So she decided to keep the silent treatment intact, and have her back turned to him for as long as she could.

"You're seriously going to keep this act up?" Was the blonde boy's interjection in this silence. "You can't stay silent forever."

Why he was still even trying to get to her is something she wouldn't understand, but knowing him, he probably wouldn't stop until she gave in.

"Fine… What do you want from me?" Chloe asked, obviously annoyed by him. "To tell me how much it is you hate me? Because if you haven't figured it out by now, I know that already."

"I just want to know what's wrong with you. You normally have more bite to your words." He said, because she did. She wouldn't let him get away with what he normally said.

"What's wrong with me?" She finally turned and glared over at him. "What's wrong with me is you… You, Felix. You'll always be the problem!"

"What?" He raised a brow, confused.

"Seriously? You don't even see it? You ask me for a favor and you're in no way, shape or form, grateful for any of it! I play this role I hate perfectly, but you're NOT man enough to admit it!" She yelled out beyond frustrated with him.

She hated that she gave in to her emotions so easily, but how else was she going to get those feelings out in the open? She hated him for making her feel the way she did and she wasn't going to let him off easy until she was done.

"Do you think any of this is easy for me? Do you even try to act like a boyfriend, fake or otherwise, would to someone he's dating? No! Because it seems you're incapable of showing any emotion to me other than one of hatred or indifference, all depending on your mood!" She continued. "If you hate me this much, just end it! This isn't going well for either of us and… and I'm tired of it… I'm tired of growing angrier than I've ever been. Exhausted from everything that's going on between us…"

“There’s nothin-” Felix started, but couldn’t finish because the female blonde wouldn’t let him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” She asked, nearing her breaking point. It was unbelievable how he couldn’t get what she meant. “That’s precisely why this has to end... You hate me as it is, and I just can’t deal with this anymore!”

Chloe wasn’t one to just break down without reason. Having always had to bottle up her emotions and fake others, wasn’t an easy task and it’s started to take more of a toll on her since this dumb “fake dating” favor started. What was she supposed to do? Continue this when it wasn’t doing her heart any good? No. That wouldn’t have been healthy and she knew that well enough already.

“... I… I wish I did have actual feelings for Adrien, you know?” She started, pretty much having to hold back from shedding any tear at this point. “Things would have been easier… He wouldn’t have done anything to hurt me. And I would have been perfectly content just being his friend.”

“Are you ever going to stop denying such an obvious fact? You’ve been into him literally all your life!”

"That's not true! He was never the one I fell for…" She responded, hugging herself, because she was sure that after this there would be no going back. "Even back when we were younger, loving him never crossed my mind. I didn't have many friends… And I still don't, but I wanted to try…"

“Try what? Befriending someone with no interest in you whatsoever?” He asked, still extremely annoyed at how hard she tried to prove him wrong. “Becoming friends with just another girl who claims to be in love with my cousin isn’t something I’d ever want.”

“Well, good then! Since that’s NOT even the reason I tried so hard anyway!” She yelled back in frustration. “It was never my intention to make you feel like second best… but you wouldn’t know that since you rejected me every chance you got!”

“As if I’d believe anything you’d have to say… There’s nothing you could say that could sway me to believe you in the least.” He rolled his eyes. Who did she think she was anyway?

“O-Of course not… You’re heartless, Felix…” Chloe said, looking straight into his eyes. The girl never wanted to believe such a thing, but he’d proven it, especially with the way he normally treated her. “It’s sad how nothing could ever make its way through that cold and tough exterior of yours… You’re so unwilling to let anyone in, that I can see now that nothing’s ever going to change.”

The tears became harder to contain with every word she spoke. Chloe was very self conscious and she hated that it had come to this. She was stronger than this.

"... You never made it easy, you know?" The blonde girl continued, closing her eyes shut, as if that would have been enough to keep the water in. "At first, I thought that was just you playing around… but the more time went by, the more I realized that was just you… You hated everyone and everything around you… And I still don't understand why I tried so hard to change it… because you're never going to see me that same way…"

He just stared at her. Was she trying to tell him the one thing he always wanted to hear? She wasn't completely clear, so he wouldn't know.

“It was never even about Adrien… He wasn’t the one who’d stolen my heart.” She’d looked down upset, tears on the verge of slipping away. “But then again, why would you care? I’m nothing but an inconvenience to you.”

Not being able to hold back much longer, the girl just let her tears flow freely. What else could she do now that things were out in the open? She wasn't sure anymore.

"I… I hope you're proud of yourself…" Chloe said in between sniffles, all the while wiping away whatever tears she could with her hands. "J-jerk…"

Before she could utter another word, she found herself enveloped in warmth. She wasn't sure how or when it occurred, since her main focus was ridding herself of the tears in her eyes. And when she looked up, she'd found herself staring at those same hues belonging to the one person who had stolen her heart.

"W-What are you-?"

"Look, I'm not too good at this "comforting" thing… I just know I don't ever want you feeling this way, okay?" He said. "Especially if it's because of me."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" She asked, curiously.

"Because if I'm honest, I never actually hated you, Chloe. I was just under the impression that that's how guys would act around girls to show them that they were interested in them." He responded.

"That explains a lot actually… Sabrina thought as much, but I just couldn't believe her." Chloe commented, in between sniffles. "Though an easier way to let a girl know you're interested is to just ask them out."

"And would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?" He asked her straight out. Not at all planning to waste another second, as he'd had the last few years. "A real one this time."

"Hmmm…" She hummed, as if deep in thought. "Maybe… if you can handle high maintenance and clingy?"

"Only if it's you."

"Damn right." She said, with a little soft smile on her lips, before it turned to a serious thin line. "I still expect you to make it up to me though. For making me so angry and upset in the past."

"Demanding as always, are you?" He said, a little playfully. "Alright… Whatever you want."

"We'll talk about the details later. Just hold me close for now, okay?" The girl requested, just enjoying being near him.

"Okay." He agreed, not at all minding her request. Felix could get used to this.

He just hoped that the next time they hugged or had an intimate moment, it wouldn’t be under these circumstances.

#chloe bourgeois #felix graham de vanily #sabrina raincomprix mentioned #adrien agreste mentioned #chlodrien friendship #feloe #miraculous ladybug #ml #brickercupmasterx3 #bmx3

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plctitude · 4 years ago

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* hailee steinfeld, cis woman + she/her | you know juliet 'jet' rothschild, right? they’re 24, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, twelve years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to don't blame me by taylor swift like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole inability to sit properly, constantly tapping her fingers on any surface, never taking shots with chasers, thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is march 15, so they’re a pisces, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

hello ! im gel and this is my little goon jet ! lmk if you wanna plot something

full name : juliet carter rothschild . preferred name / nickname : jet . age : twenty - four . birthday : march 15 . sexual orientation : lesbian . relationship status : single . occupation : barista , musician , music producer . residence : delphinus heights .

history ––

juliet was born into a loving family in southern virginia , williamsburg to be exact . her family wasn’t loaded but they were comfortable enough that juliet could take guitar and piano and drum lessons and play sports and do basically whatever she wanted to try.

unfortunately for her parents , the drums were what really stuck with her . sure , she can still play the other instruments she learned growing up , but the drums were her safe space , her comfort .

nevertheless , they supported her because she was their little girl and as an only child , it was easy to spoil her . she loves her parents , wouldn’t trade them for anything in the whole world . because they were her whole world .

at 12 , her whole world came crashing down . she doesn’t remember much , if she’s being honest . all she really remembers was being pulled out of school and police officers telling her that her parents wouldn’t be back . they weren’t dead , as far as anyone knew , but they also weren’t anywhere to be found .

so her aunt offers to take her in , and juliet moves to irving . she starts going by jet , eager to leave behind the life she knew back in williamsburg . her aunt goes with it , doesn’t want to upset the 12 year old girl who just became an orphan . neither of them really talk about where her parents are , but they both hope they’re still out there , trying to make it back to her .

it takes a year or two but jet gets used to being in irving . it doesn’t just become her aunt’s town , it becomes hers . and the house in delphinus heights becomes her home , too. and when her aunt gets a girlfriend , who’s then a wife , jet is ecstatic . she loves seeing her aunt happy and in love .

at 15 , jet realizes she doesn’t like boys , she likes girls . she actually comes out to her aunt’s wife first – kind of an accident, really – , but everything goes smoothly and she’s never felt freer . at 16 , she meets a girl , a beautiful girl whose eyes rival the ocean , whose smile lights up her nights . and they fall in love , and it’s wonderful and deep and consuming and healing . but this is when jet learns all good things must come to an end . it’s when she’s running home , tears streaming down her face that she learns what heartbreak really feels like . it’s when she sits at her drum set , hole blown through the snare drum , cymbals crashing to the ground , that she realizes how close hate and love sit on a spectrum .

at 17 , she’s about to graduate and go to college when she changes her mind . she’s not going . her aunt’s not happy about it , but jet’s never really wanted anything but music anyway . so she gets a job , then another job , because ‘ if you’re going to stick around , you’re going to help pay the bills ’ . and it’s the beginning of something beautiful .

at 18, she starts producing her own music . it’s just some simple songs , but it’s a sign of progress nonetheless . she saves up money , uses what’s not for bills and rainy day savings to pay for a class . she learns everything she can about music production , music theory , recording , etc.

at 19, she joins a band , and it goes well until it doesn’t anymore . they’re getting gigs , they’re popular , but it’s breaking from the inside because everyone’s convinced they’re going to be the next big thing and their egos swell to the point where they can’t all fit in the same room anymore .

at 20 , she regroups , focuses on her own stuff again . she does some small producing work on the side , helping other artists who aren’t as well versed with the production stuff . it’s good money , good learning opportunity , and good exposure .

at 21 , she gets a job as a bartender on top of her barista job , hoping to save for her own place in irving . she doesn’t really want to move out but her aunt and her wife are trying to start a family . and she doesn’t want to be in the way .

at 22 , her aunt gets pregnant , and with her wife picking up more shifts to cover the impending financial burden of having a baby , jet decides to stay .

now ––

her parents are still missing , but honestly it’s been so long they may as well be dead . she still misses them , sure , but the whole in her heart isn’t as large as it was when she was 12 . at least not for the same reasons .

she’s still producing music , but it’s become more of her job than a hobby . it’s good money , for the most part , but she wants more time for her stuff .

her aunt gave birth last year and jet spends a lot of time with her cousin , frey . she quit her job as a bartender to take over as a full time babysitter , but she doesn’t mind . she loves playing her music for the little boy , though her aunts are weary about her teaching him the drums when he gets older .

she’s still writing and playing music , but she definitely makes time to go out and have a good time because why not ? someday you could just disappear and you would’ve spent your whole life agonizing over trivial things when you could just ~have fun~

her aunt still wants her to go school , tbh because that’s what her parents would have wanted for her . she struggles to bite back the ‘ well my parents aren’t here ’ on the tip of her tongue every time they have that argument .

personality ––

becoming an orphan at such a young age kind of fucked her up , for the lack of a better term . she developed some anger issues as a teen , most of which she would take out on her drum set . lord only knows how many sticks she’s broken .

she love love loves playing the drums . it’s her absolute favorite thing in the world and it helps her calm down , get through a bad day , or even to make a good day even better . it lets her get a lot of her energy out and to her , it’s really the one thing she can count on to never leave . if she’s not near her drums , she’s probably tapping her foot or tapping her fingers on a table . it’s her go-to fidget move , which can get a little annoying .

her one serious relationship showed her how deep she could fall so she’s decided to not let that happen at all costs . she’s more of a hookup kind of gal , and a bit of a heartbreaker at that , but she’s honest with people . she’s not looking for a relationship . not right now , maybe not ever . once she actually has feelings for someone , she’ll avoid them or do whatever else to get over it . can’t get your heartbroken if you never let anyone near it , right ?

she’s a bit of a partier sometimes , especially when she’s got a lot of pent up energy . basically she’s got two sides , a fun party side and a sweet niece side. she’s got a wicked tolerance for alcohol , to be honest , but that sometimes means she’ll get crossed or not eat just so she can feel drunk faster .

she’s not the greatest barista ( think like almost as bad as rachel from friends ) , but she’s gotten a hell of a lot better than when she first started .

she’s gay so she can’t sit properly ever lmao . she’s more likely to sit on top of a table , rather than the chair at the table .

she’s a bit of a dork with puzzles , like she loves doing puzzles . they’re her favorite way to zone out , but no one is allowed to know this except maybe her best friend(s) bc she has a reputation pls

wcs ––

The Ex Girlfriend™ – it was super deep , super intense , and ended super badly

ride-or-die – been best friends since she came to town , literally inseparable , can always count on the two of them to be getting into trouble back in school

music clients – a singer-songwriter she produces for

unlikely or secret friends ? – not really sure what the reason would be but im sure we could come up with one

ex-hookups , current hookups , future hookups - @women : would love to plot these out ! ( just as a warning though , i do not write smut bc im ~uncomfy~ with that but im down for mentions and flirting )

friends of her aunts or something !

favorite coffee shop customers !

ex-bandmate , ex-clients , high school classmates, etc.

big down for literally anything !

#irvingintro #this is also kinda long oops #( HEADCANON // jet rothschild . )

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princessmadafu · 4 years ago

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I have the conch!!!

Good morning. Mad’s still snoozing, so I’m popping this up while it’s quiet. This is a Forbes article from March 2019 that I thought was important enough to save:

Meghan Markle: Does The British Tax Payer Know How Much 'Me-Gain' Royal Is Costing?

Roger Aitken Contributor

The Duchess of Sussex, aka Meghan Markle, is watching her popularity and acceptance sinking, possibly taking the British Royal Family with her. Apparently, the way to make the public in Britain like her is to spend tax-payers money on PR machines on both sides of the Atlantic, in addition to a generous allowance.

Being in the public eye puts a person under a degree of scrutiny – and especially when you are a Royal. Some voluntarily choose the public eye, and some are born into it.

It is also not easy to be famous in the age of social media, especially as an entertainer, sports star or actress. Royalty also endures scrutiny, as we can attest to with the lives of Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Anne, and even Prince Charles and Princess Diana.

Mixing the two, entertainer and royalty, results in a new breed of fame, which can sometimes work out. Or not.

Just last weekend (March 23) in The Express tabloid it was reported that royal expert, Anna Pasternak, ventured that Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s marriage is “going to become increasingly difficult.”

The author of ‘Untitled: The Real Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor’, Pasternak claimed that Duchess is heading into a “tricky situation” – akin or similar to that faced by Wallis Simpson and Princess Diana, where the “ultimate goal is survival.” Strong stuff. Like Simpson, Markle is a divorcee.

The most famous marriage of royalty to entertainment was in 1956 when Grace Kelly, the American film actress, became Princess of Monaco after marrying Prince Rainier III in April of that same year.

One of the most famous actresses in the world at the time, armed with a stable of films for which she received high acclaim, plus an Academy Award for Best Actress (1955) tucked under her arm, retired from acting at the age of 26 and began her duties as the Princess of Monaco.

According to reports, Princess Grace was loved and accepted by the public during her lifetime, and when she died at the age of 52, according to biographer Jeffrey Robinson, “…it was like the lights went out. Monaco just stopped.”

Move forward to 2018, where another actress has married into a royal family – this time, in the United Kingdom (U.K), which has for the last three years been torn apart by ongoing Brexit trials and tribulations. The tension in the country is palpable.

Meghan Markle, a relatively small-time actress say some, married Prince Harry of Wales on May 19, 2018, at St George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle.

Although not so well known prior to this – her second marriage – she was best known for a small role in a series named Suits. Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex and sixth in line to thrown, on the other hand, was the younger son of one of the most famous Royals in history, Princess Diana of Wales, and known throughout the world due to his Royal status. His Royal Highness spent ten years working in the Armed Forces, ending operational duties in 2015.

Meghan Markle, who grew up in a middle-class household, was looked after by her family throughout her life. When her father won the lottery when she was nine years old, he seemingly made sure that every cost was covered for Meghan, sending her to the best schools and training. Well, why not if you have it.

Of course, Prince Harry grew up as a Royal, and unlike his brother Prince William, seemed to like the partying side of life a little more. As his Royal Highness grew up he was in the papers often, normally for partying in Las Vegas or some other antics. But he knew the price of being in the public eye and putting a foot out of place. Yet he is 100% British and the public love him, still, regardless of these reports.

There was finally an announcement in November of 2017 that Meghan Markle and Prince Harry were engaged, which was soon followed by an interview, which was the start of Meghan’s descent.

During this interview, Meghan proclaimed that she did not know much about Prince Harry, and because she was American, did not really understand the importance of the Royal family – although she was snapped in a photo in front of Buckingham palace when she was 15 and apparently had many books on Diana and the royal family, according to reports.

All of this gave fuel to the British public, who started to leave negative remarks in the comments sections of online publications by the hundreds, if not thousands.

At Meghan and Prince Harry’s wedding, on May 19, 2018, there were no family present from her side, except for her mother, in sharp contrast to the marriage of Catherine Middleton and Prince William of Wales, the now Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.

Catherine was surrounded by friends and family, with her sister acting as Maid of Honor in pictures that went viral for ‘that dress’.

Meghan’s wedding received widespread attention for the lack of family and close friends. Prince Charles gave her away, although her own father is alive and living in Mexico, and she had her own shadow as a Maid of Honor. Again, the British public were left puzzled, as seen by the comments in the media.

Of course, with their exclusion from this great event, Meghan’s own family took great exception, with the most vocal being Samantha Markle – followed by her father, uncles and cousins – who could not understand why this happened. And, they never got an answer. But they had a clue when Prince Harry went on the radio and said that the Royal family would now be the “family Meghan never had.”

Meghan’s family shot back immediately that this was all a lie, protesting and offering proof of the opposite. Samantha even explained that the father financed all of Meghan’s education, while Meghan stated at a conference she paid for her own education. Yet Samantha has receipts from the father, apparently.

At the same time, reports of the cost of this wedding, mixed with the drama of the Markle family, hit fever pitch. According to the British tabloid, the Express, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s Royal wedding is said to have racked up a £32 million bill (c.$41.6 million at the current exchange rate), with the majority of that hefty sum (paid for by the British taxpayer) going towards security – a whopping £30 million (c.$39 million), to be exact.

One might argue that with all the zillions of tourists flocking to Britain with pull of Buckingham Palace, seeing the Royals and the nation’s deep and rich history, it was frankly a drop in the ocean.

Figures also show that £1.5 million (c.$1.95 million) was spent by the Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS), a U.K. government department that has responsibility for the creative industries, tourism and leisure across the nation. Some will be more familiar with the DCMS in the pursuit of Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg in giving oral evidence before the committee in Parliament.

All this while wages and living standards for your average working Brit are depressed and have been so since the last financial crisis around a decade ago.

The public seems to have had enough now, with people writing on sites that they feel Meghan is embarrassing the Royal Family, and the public in turn, even “taking them for fools”, adding that “Harry is a young and naive and cannot see what is happening before him.” Prince Harry is 34 and Meghan in 37, which is very close in age.

People have seemingly too become incensed at all of the reports and apparent lies that Meghan has told, and started to turn against the Duchess of Sussex now in serious numbers, on blogs, forums and websites. Not Harry. Meghan. The Duchess of Sussex.

She has even apparently been given a nickname by royal staff at the royal household – “Me-Gain.” And, Harry quite clearly is said to be very unhappy with that.

Dicky Arbiter, a Royal insider and ex-Palace press, speaking to Nine News Australia on Harry’s reaction to these reports, was quoted as saying: “He would be angry that something like this is coming out. You have got to remember too…I mean, you were here for the wedding and you saw how the media were operating. They were putting Meghan and Harry right up on a pedestal. Since the end of summer in the autumn, they have been chipping away at those pedestals and really having a go.”

Cosmopolitan magazine stated in a report referring to “Me-Gain” comments apparently made by royal staff writing: “To be honest, there’s probably little to no truth to rumors that staff call Meghan by this nickname, but that doesn’t make the reports any less hurtful, obvs!” That said, gossip about the Royal family certainly sells newspapers.

Every day it seems, articles come online and in print about Meghan, reporting on everything from the dishes she serves guests (avocado on toast) to her wardrobe (with outfits costing up to £100,000 (c.$130,000 each), her extravagant baby showers – two to be exact and more.

The public perception of her started to sink faster than a millstone in water. They made it clear that they would not suffer another Wallis Simpson.

The palace knew they were in trouble and started to hire PR, separating the Duke and Duchess of Sussex from the Cambridges, and giving them their own household.

According to reports, even Prince William and Catherine observed the negative publicity, fearing it will outshine the work and legacy of the Royal Family as a whole, and wanted to separate themselves from what has been labelled “the Markle Effect.”

Meghan Markle’s PR chief moved positions and became the fifth aide she has lost since she married Prince Harry. According to The Sun, Jason Knauf is now a “senior adviser” for the Cambridges’ charities. In addition, the general consensus among royal reporters is that Meghan is seen as difficult and high energy and is said to “snap” at palace employees.

Following this move, and the desire to separate the Sussexs’ from the Cambridges’, according to The Daily Mail The Queen agreed to the creation of a Household for The Duke and Duchess of Sussex and gave permission for it to be based at Buckingham Palace.

As part of the new order, Harry and Meghan have named Sara Latham, Hillary Clinton’s former Senior Campaign Advisor, as their new dedicated head of communications. With costs estimated and thought to be in the ball park of £500,000 to £1 million (c.$650,000 to $1.3 million), it will be paid for by the tax payer. The ultimate irony. They are spending tax-payers money to make the Duchess of Sussex likeable to the very people who are not warming to her, by spending their money.

Viscount Yves de Contades, CEO of International Excellence Magazine and luxury expert remarking on these recent matters, said: “Relating to populist media through PR experts has become indispensable, because if you are not talking to them directly, they will simply take it from any source – however unreliable.”

He added: “Unfortunately sensational stories get read substantially more than the truth. Good PR is about maintaining certain values and connecting honestly with your audience. And, it would be wise to pay those bills yourself.”

Frank Marr, CEO and owner of A Marr + Associates and a reputation management/PR expert based in London, said: “Reputation management is imperative for the monarchy. In an era of discontent, erratic political situations along with the big gap between the rich and the poor, there has never been a more important need to explain why the royalty is needed for the nation.”

He added: “Their role as pillars to society and how they can play their part to support the nation [Britain] needs to be managed in order to maintain reasoning for this existence of influence.”

Is this really the right approach?

According to inside sources, who like Meghan’s friends cannot be named, Royal Communications have a very lucrative deal with People Magazine in America. The reason? Apparently, they feel if Americans fall in love with her, then the Brits will naturally follow.

This is made clear when American actors like George Clooney have recently criticized media treatment of Meghan saying she is being “pursued and vilified”, and likening her scrutiny to that was received by Princess Diana. Like all PR for Meghan, this statement, too, seems to be doing more harm than good, with thousands of people leaving vitriolic comments.

Others have expressed the thought that “Princess Diana-style PR will backfire on Meghan Markle and it’s not worth the gamble”, as reported in The Sun. And why is that? This one is quite simple. Because she is not Princess Diana, and many people are quick to point out that she is quite the opposite.

According to Lorraine Kelly’s viewpoint, the well-known Scottish journalist and broadcaster wrote: “Meghan Markle has mishandled her relationship with her dad Thomas ever since she began dating Prince Harry and she seems intent on making it worse.”

“By all accounts the Duchess of Sussex has taken it upon herself to brief several of her “close friends” to blab to a U.S. gossip magazine about how hurtful she has found the whole saga, and that – contrary to what everyone thinks – she has been in touch with her father Thomas.”

And, according to Samantha Markle, this could not be further from the truth. And again, she has the proof.

The British public expect the Royal Family to be wholesome. Perhaps not virginal, but wholesome, and a divorcee from America who has perhaps told a little fib or two, or ten, is just not sitting well.

And, the fact that the British public, again, are left paying the bill is a bridge too far for many of them as she as seen as the antithesis of what a Royal should be – loyal, demure, honest, caring, family oriented, frugal and modest.

Meghan is appearing, by her own fault, to be none of these. And to be honest, why would she want to be anything but herself? Why should she care what the people think about her? Well, again, it is simple. It is because she now represents a Royal Family, one which has outlasted most, and wants to live to see another day.

According to an article in Town and Country magazine, Meghan is worth $5 million compared to Prince Harry’s $40 million, a sum he has accumulated from funds left in trust to him by his mother, Princess Diana, an inheritance from the Queen Mother, and his former salary as a captain in the British Army.

Yet, the British public ARE paying for Meghan’s PR, and hopefully they will learn to love her, for Harry’s sake. Regardless of what opinions are about Harry’s girl, the bill for Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex, is being paid for by the British tax payers, and hopefully they will get what they pay for. And, it’s certainly racking up in any currency.

Let them eat cake? You betcha!

Follow Roger, an ex-FT writer who has penned various investment stories, on Twitter @AitkenRL, LinkedIn, Forbes, Google+. He won a State Street Institutional Press award in 2015.

Roger AitkenContributor

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crimsonrae · 4 years ago

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Bear and Birdie

Chapter Six

Summary: AU Howard only ever had Birdie to confide in as a child and Steve only ever had Bucky. So, what happens when more than just a supersoldier serum connects these people? Told in a collection of one-shots and flashbacks, rating subject to change.

Bucky BarnesxOFC

Rating: Mature

Chapter Six

1932 Kingston, New York

"Birdie?"

Howard bit the inside of his cheek as he leaned against the door to his cousin's bedroom. The wooden surface was cool to the touch, but he barely noticed as he strained to hear some sort of noise come from inside. Nothing. Not even the softest breath could be heard. He sighed and pressed his forehead to the grainy panel. He hated his life, he decided silently. His chocolate brown eyes watered for a moment before he stodgily pushed back at the sorrow and pain choking his heart. He wanted his cousin, his best friend. She hadn't left her room since they had received the news and that had been three days ago.

"Birdie, please let me in." Howard murmured raggedly. He expected more silence and wasn't disappointed when nothing happen. Fortifying himself for what he would do next, Howard lifted trembling fingers to the cold metal door knob. He swallowed back a brief swell of panic, fearful that Elena would just cast him from the room. The door gave way with the slightest of turn and he cautiously peered inside.

Elena's bed laid empty. The white linens smooth and crisp as if the fabric had never been touched. Confusion marred Howard's face as he moved more fully into the room. There was no noise coming from the attached bathroom and for a dreadful moment he wondered if he would find….He shook his head and dislodged his morbid thoughts as he began to furiously search her room. Elena had to be here – she needed to be here. He couldn't lose her too. It wasn't until he neared her wardrobe that he saw her.

There was a small space between the window and her wardrobe, he remembered that she used to like to hide in it when they were younger. Elena had squeezed into it now. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her hair tethered in a loose braid. Howard couldn't see her face, but that didn't matter as he crept closer to kneel in front of his cousin. His protector. He couldn't remember a time when Elena hadn't taken care of him, hadn't patched his wounds, and wiped away his tears, hadn't jump to his defense anytime someone tried to pick on him. She was his rock – he had never had to be hers. Until now.

"Birdie." He whispered as his hand brushed lightly over her ankle.

A muffled sniffle and a choked response of, "Go away." was all he heard.

"No." He murmured as his thumb unconsciously began to rub soft circles over her skin. Another sniffle and Elena slowly brought her head up. He almost wished she hadn't as he looked into hollow blue eyes. The normal mischievous spark was gone and something whimpered and withered inside Howard at the pain he faced. He almost wished she were angry. His Elena simply looked lost and defeated, neither were words that should ever describe his cousin. Her eyes were swollen from harsh tears, her complexion ruddy and aching. He wanted to bundle her into bed and lock the world away like they did when he was seven and had a broken arm, "Birdie."

The nickname brought on a new stream of silent tears and Howard gulped at the sight. Her head fell listlessly against her wardrobe a she whispered, "I'll never hear him call me, Pigeon again."

Howard closed his eyes briefly and forced a bitter smile, "Nor will I hear him call me, Nephew. I don't think I ever heard him say my name."

A heartbreaking titter escaped Elena's mouth before she lost all fight to a strangle sob, "I just want Papa."

Howard felt his heart shatter and wilt and was unable to stop his tears from piercing his eyes. He whispered a soft, "I know."

Yet, he couldn't watch further as his brave cousin fell apart. He pulled her slight form into his arms and bit the inside of his cheek again to suppress his sobs as Elena gave into hers. He would be her rock now.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

1922 Brooklyn, New York

Robert Barnes rubbed at the back of his neck as he stared at the mound of bills on the kitchen table. He was going to lose the house if he didn't come up with some money fast. He was behind on the mortgage…too far behind and the medical bills just never seem to stop coming. He heaved a soft sigh and pushed the bills away as he felt his heart clench in pain.

Jeanie…

The funeral costs had taken more out of the accounts than Robert had anticipated. He would have spent it all on his wife and baby girl, but he still needed to take care of his son. He peered into the living room to see his little boy playing with his toy fire truck. He wasn't making any sound, however, just pushing the truck forward. Robert frowned, feeling his heart break even further at seeing his normally energetic son so…quiet. It was a word he never thought he would use to describe Bucky.

Standing from the table he came to sit behind his son, "You saving the world, Buck?"

His little boy shrugged, never really looking up. Robert bit back a sigh and resisted the urge to pull Bucky into his arms and never let go. Instead, he ran a hand through his son's messy hair, "You know I met your mother because of a fire."

Bucky frowned curiously, "A fire?"

"Mmhm." Robert nodded as he pushed the fire truck back to his son, "Your grandparents owned a bakery and when your mother was sixteen your grandma decided that she should started working at the shop. Only your mother was not a very good cook then."

"Mommy makes good food though." Bucky protested. He loved his mother's pot roast.

Robert half-smiled at his five-year-old's defense of his mother, "Yes, she does - did. But only after your grandmother spent a lot of time teaching her everything that she knew. When your mother started to work in the bakery, she wanted to impress your grandfather by making a few loaves of bread on her own. Only she forgot to keep an eye on the bread and set the bakery on fire."

"Mommy set a building on fire?" Bucky's eyes were impossibly wide at the thought of his mother doing anything bad, "Did grandma give her a time out?"

"Uhh ha." Robert grinned as he tried not to laugh, "I don't know, but she was in a lot of trouble. She was inside the bakery screaming for help when I passed by. I ran inside to see her swatting at a smoking oven with a dish cloth."

Bucky smiled faintly, "You saved mommy."

Robert returned the smile as he tried not lose himself in a wave of nostalgia, "I tried to…Your mommy wasn't very happy when I threw a bucket of water onto the oven. She claimed I destroyed her bread and didn't really want to talk to me again."

"But mommy never gets mad." Bucky said softly as he fiddled with his truck.

"Oh your mommy used to get mad at me all the time." Robert replied quietly, "It's why I loved her."

Bucky's brow furrowed and Robert could tell that his son thought he was strange, "You liked mommy getting mad?"

Robert chuckled, "No, I didn't like that she would be mad. I liked that your mommy didn't put up with my sh… excuses. She saw right through me."

Robert could tell that Bucky didn't really understand, but that was okay. He just wanted his son to remember his mother. Wanted him to know that she was a person and real. He ran his hand through his son's hair again and brushed a thumb over his cheek. Bucky looked up at him sadly. His big blue eyes reminding Robert so much of Jeanie.

"Daddy…I want mommy." Bucky whispered.

Robert felt tears prick at his eyes as he finally gave into his earlier urge and pulled his son into his arms and pressed a kiss to his head, "I do too, buddy."

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

1934 Kingston, New York

It was snowing. Elena's ocean blue stare followed the fluttering of icy flakes as she waited quietly in the den of the Stark house. She did not care much for snow. Its biting cold seemed to seep into the deepest pores of her body whenever she stepped out into it, but she loved to watch as the pure whiteness blanketed the world. The first snowfall was always the greatest. The flakes were just starting to settle to the earth and had an abstract fuzzy quality that made the glaring white seem soft to touch. She found it hypnotizing, in its own strange way, making it easier for her to block out the sounds of her family in the next room.

The sound of her mother's grating laugh tore at her nerves as the family conversed with the Davenports. It was time for that all-encompassing and draining Sunday dinner with her Uncle Howard… which meant that half of Kingston's prominent families were in attendance. Elena was not in the mood to make polite small talk and feign genial smiles that particular weekend. She bit back a sigh and idly fingered the silver band wrapped around her middle finger.

"You're amazing at avoiding parties."

Elena startled in her seat as her gaze swung around to find Howard Jr. struggling not to smile at her expense. She silently huffed, "Ass."

Howard simply grinned.

Straightening from the chair, she found herself softening a little as she moved to greet her cousin with a hug, "What are you doing here? I thought school didn't release the prisoners for another few weeks."

"The warden took a trip home this weekend and I thought I'd take the opportunity to make a break for it." He smirked mischievously, "I figured Daddy dearest could put up with harboring a fugitive tonight."

"Hmm, lucky him." Elena stepped back and studied the young man before her. They were the same height now and she had no doubt that in another few years he would outgrow her. His eyes held a light that spoke of his good care at Emerson Academy. Her lips twisted into a small smile as she reached up to touch his chin, "What is this? You need to wash your face, there's something on your lip."

Howard ducked out of her reach and scowled, "It's called a mustache, Birdie."

"If you say so." She snorted in amusement as she eyed the barely-there strip of hair that was decorating her cousin's face. It was too pathetic in her opinion to even be called a mustache, "It looks more like dirt."

"I'll have you know it took me two months to grow this." He groused as he touched the peach fuzz as if to make sure it really wasn't dirt. He had spent a lot of time cultivating his new look.

Elena nearly choked on a laugh as she replied, "Howard, there's a reason you don't see many - any fifteen year old boys with a mustache…They can't grow them yet."

"I can." Howard stated childishly which only seemed to encourage Elena's merriment, "Oh shut up."

She grinned unrepentantly as Howard continued to scowl at her. By the way he was fidgeting Elena could tell he wanted to go check his appearance in the mirror. She suppressed a laugh and gently nudged his shoulder, "So what's the real reason you're home? I know you try to avoid being near your father for any extended amount of time."

Howard shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flitting briefly over her form before pausing for a moment on the hand holding her ring. He reached out and pulled her hand up for inspection before finally meeting her gaze again, "You have to ask?"

"No." Elena's mouth twisted into a sad smile as she pulled her hand away. Her thumb unconsciously rubbed the metal band as she studied her cousin again, this time looking for any hint of pity. There was none, only silent sadness and muted pain, "No, I guess not."

"I miss him." Howard whispered bitterly, and Elena found herself blinking back tears as she tried to stop the trembling of her lower lip. "I wish he had been my dad…instead of my uncle."

"He wanted that too." Elena murmured as she tried to twist her lips into a smile, but found herself swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat. She had been trying so hard not to think of her father; she hurt so much whenever she did. She missed his smile, and his odd sense of humor…she missed his kindness. The only kind person in their twisted little family…she missed – she just missed him.

Howard vainly ignored his own watery eyes as he nudged his struggling cousin. In truth, Samuel Turner had been the only decent father figure he had ever had, and his death the previous year had left him lost and bewildered, but not as devastated as Birdie. He pushed a thin smile to his lips. "Do you remember how confused your dad made me over your name when we were little?"

Elena's lips twitched. "You didn't understand why he kept calling me Pigeon."

"And Uncle Leo was no better…always calling you Ducky, or Ducks," Howard continued, his eyes gleaming at the fond memory. "I was convinced that you were named after some type of bird by the time I was five."

"Named after?" Elena giggled disbelievingly. "You used to follow me around looking for feathers and nagged me to teach you how to fly…. Nearly gave your mother a heart attack when you tried to jump off the roof with wooden boards and a sheet strapped to your arms."

"She never believed me when I told her it was your idea," he muttered ruefully as Elena smiled shamelessly; it had been her idea. "She didn't let me out of her sight for a week."

She shrugged. "It could have been worse. You started calling me Birdie then."

"Well of course. You were your dad's little carrier pigeon, our uncle's duckling, a mother hen when I was hurt and a mockingbird when I did something stupid…You're Birdie."

Elena shook her head at him though her smile remained. "You're always doing something stupid."

"And you're always mocking me."

The two cousins smirked at each other as they fell into a comfortable silence. Elena rubbed her ring again as she felt her sadness linger, but this time she did not feel as despairing.

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1928 Brooklyn, New York

It didn't bother him, he could ignore it.

Laughter pierced his ears and Steve bent his head even more as he focused on his sketch. His fingers were beginning to shake from the intense grip he had on his pencil. He could ignore it. He blinked trying to hold back tears. He was stronger than this…he knew he was. Swallowing tightly, he added a few more lines to the bird he was trying to draw. He never noticed the shadow that passed over him or when that shadow sighed and sat down in front of him.

"Stevie."

He ignored the voice…or at least he tried, but his fingers suddenly became still and the pencil wouldn't move across the page. He tried so hard to make it move.

"You don't have to sit here by yourself, you know."

Still Steve didn't lift his eyes to acknowledge the other's presence. He wanted this day to be over, "They showed interest in you, Buck. You'll have a new family. That's a good thing."

Bucky frowned as Steve finally looked up to meet his eyes and forced a smile. The kids in the orphanage generally were excited when couples came through to look at them. It usually meant that someone would get to leave. No more cold porridge meals, or harsh rules enforced by the nuns and their lethal rulers. Bucky never gave the couples a second glance. He remembered his mother with her soft words and warm embraces. He had known his father...he fought back a wince at the choking sensation that never failed to appear at the thought of Robert Barnes. A man he missed more than anyone. And for a brief moment in his life he remembered his baby sister, Rebecca. They were dead now, and he was alone-except for Stevie. He ignored the deep-seated pang that came with their memory – being sad was just a waste.

Besides he didn't need new parents. This was something that Stevie didn't seem to understand. He had seen the crushed look in his friend's eyes as the new couple spent a few minutes talking to him. Stevie thought he'd be leaving him…like everyone else had left him.

"They can show all the interest they want, Stevie. I'm not going anywhere." Bucky said firmly, though it seemed comical seeing a eleven-year-old being that serious.

"Bucky, you should go with them if they want you." Stevie said, not understanding why his friend wasn't leaving their hole of an orphanage.

"What for? I like it here."

Steve snorted and looked back down at his drawing, "No one likes it here."

"Maybe I do." Bucky said defiantly, "Besides who would you talk to."

"I can make friends, you know." Steve said with a frown. He loved Bucky, but sometimes he really could strangle his friend.

"Didn't say you couldn't." Bucky shifted to sit next to the slightly smaller boy and pulled an apple from his pocket. Sister Tonya predicted that he was due for a growth spurt soon with the amount of food he had been eating, "Let's go do somethin'."

Steve nearly rolled his eyes, "Buck we're not supposed to leave while the adults are here."

Bucky shrugged, "So, they're not here for us. Let's go do something."

"The man talked to you." Stevie stressed.

Bucky nearly threw his apple at the blonde in frustration. He didn't want to talk about the couple that were viewing the kids. The couple was nice, he would admit, but they were looking for a kid to save and James Buchanan Barnes did not need to be saved. He got decent food, he had a place to sleep and he had his family in the form of Stevie. He didn't need another set of parents…though he may accept Mrs. Rogers as another mom. He looked curiously over at his friend who had his head bent over his sketches again, "When was the last time you saw your mom?"

Steve froze again, a pained expression crossing his face as he thought of his mother. She was trying so hard to get him back, "It's been awhile….Aunt Milly has moved back from Oklahoma to take care of her."

The last time he had seen his mother she had been constrained to her bed too weak to get up. His aunt had just arrived and had been fluttering around the sad little apartment that Sarah Rogers had been forced to move into when her medical bills began to pile up. An illness and bills that had made it impossible for her to take care of her only son. So he had been placed St. Catherine's Lost Home for Boys. She used to visit every week, but then she just got worse. It had been almost a month since Stevie last saw her.

"Let's go see her." Bucky said as he finished off his apple.

Steve knew that Bucky had taken a shine to his mother when she had asked to meet him. She had seemed genuinely happy to find that Steve had a friend. It had been a long time since Bucky had seen the woman as well, and it concerned the brunette that the small woman was so sickly. Stevie was constantly sick, but that was mostly due to his asthma not to an illness that, as Stevie put it, came out of nowhere.

There was a small pause as Stevie looked both hopeful and uncertain. He hated going to that apartment. It really wasn't home to him and he dreaded seeing his mom so sick. He really did want to see his mom, though – he missed her. Almost timidly Steve nodded his head, "Yeah…ok, we can do that."

Bucky grinned broadly, happy to see his friend looking a little less depressed, "Great…You think she'll have those cookies again."

Steve rolled his eyes and nudged his friend as he gathered his things, "I don't know, Buck. She always has something, though."

The duo smiled at each other as they began to go down the street. For once Steve felt like nothing was amiss that he was simply going home with his brother.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #captain america #captain america fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian stan

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harrystylesgoldencreature · 5 years ago

Text

The Spark- Chapter Five

As soon as her cab was out of site, Harry reached for his phone. Looking up the number for the hospital, he dialed it right away.

“New York Presbyterian. Gail speaking, how may I assist you?” An overly friendly voice came on the line.

“Yes, I would like to make a payment on behalf of a friend of mine.” He told her determined.

“Alright, I can definitely help you out with that. Who is the name under?”

“The last name should be under y/l/n. He has cancer and is in need of a transplant. I would like to pay for it in full. I would also like to add of bit extra to that just in case they need anything else.” He told her in a professional manner.

“Alright, if you will just allow me a moment to pull up the account.”

Harry waited patiently, as he heard her typing away at her computer. It took her a few minutes to find the information she was needing, and a few minutes longer to locate his bill.

“Alright, I have the account here. Are you sure about this?” She asked concerned. “This transplant is quite expensive, not to mention the hospital stay and everything else he will be needing.”

“I don't care about the price, I would like it to be anonymous though.”

“Very well. I will just need your information, and we can get started.”

Harry gladly gave her all of his information. She took down his name and card number, willingly. Once all was said and done, Harry felt relieved. He might not be able to cure her fathers cancer, but at least this way he had a fighting chance. Harry had known loss in his life, and he never wanted anyone to have to go through that sort of pain. If this could save her from that torture he was more than willing to help. Besides, it wasn't like he was lacking in funds.

“It looks like I have everything I need. Thank you so much Mr. Styles.” Gail told him.

“Perfect. Thank you!”

Hanging up the phone, Harry smiled. He really hoped this transplant would be the answer to their prayers.

Suddenly feeling the inspiration he was once lacking, he turned around to head back to the studio. He walked with new purpose. Although, he didn't get to spend a whole lot of time with her, he felt like a brand new person. She was definitely a great muse for him.

Your Point of View!

Your mind was a complete mess, as your taxi made its way to the hospital. Harry had been everything you had thought he would be and so much more. He was truly incredible, and he made you feel weak in the knees. You couldn't seem to get him off of your mind.

You had found it extremely easy to talk to him. You had never felt so comfortable with anyone in your entire life. It was both strange and exhilarating, at the same time. It was a new feeling and it made you giddy.

The ride to the hospital usually took about fifteen minutes. Today, however, the traffic was heavy. Sitting back, you closed your eyes and tried to relax. As the driver inched his way into the traffic, your mind began to drift.

These last few weeks had been a complete nightmare for you. You had never in a million years thought that one day you would be facing the very real possibility of losing one of your parents. The thought alone was beyond unbearable. It felt like a part of you was also dying.

You and your parents had always been extremely close. You were an only child so it had always just been the three of you. You had done everything together, throughout the years. They were truly your best friends, and there was nothing they wouldn't do for you.

Now, the thought of losing your dad was tormenting you. You spent every waking moment thinking about it, and you lost many nights sleep worrying and stressing over it. It had become overwhelming, and you weren't sure how much more you would be able to take. You had tried your absolute best to be strong for both of your parents, but it was beginning to be all to much.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi finally pulled into the hospital parking lot. Sighing, you slowly got out of the cab. Thanking the driver, you turned away. You stood in the parking lot for a few minutes, trying to pull yourself together. It was starting to get harder and harder, to pretend that you were okay.

Staring at the outside of the hospital, you forced yourself forward. You had always dreading going to the hospital, ever since you were a little girl. There was something depressing about it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It seemed like every time you had been in this particular hospital, someone had either died or was about to. You hated to think about it that way, but it had been the truth. You associated this place with death, and you hated that your dad had to been at this hospital at all.

Hardening your heart, you walked into the lobby of the massive hospital.

“Good morning!” Gail called out.

You had been such a regular visitor that you knew most every worker here. Every time you passed them in the hallways, they would make small talk while giving you a look of pity. You hated that look most of all. Most people had not known what to say around you so they just look at you with sadden eyes.

You and Gail had spent quite a lot of time together. She was in her mid forties, but still acted like a teenager. She was currently wearing bright pink scrubs and her graying hair was tied back into a tight ponytail.

“Morning,” you said faking a smile.

“I figured you would be ecstatic! Come on! Today is a happy day!”

“I'm sorry? What are you talking about? How is today a happy one?!” You asked her rather confused.

“Oh,” she frowned. “I guess you haven't heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Umm.. I'm not sure news like this should come from me. Why don't you go speak with your parents. I'm sure they would want to be the ones to tell you.”

“I'm so confused. What's going on?”

“It's nothing bad! I promise.”

“Just tell me!”

“I can't do that sweetie. Go see your dad.”

Frustrated you headed off to see what was going on. It wasn't like Gail to hold back. You had not know the older women for long, but you did know that she loved gossip in any and all forms.

Rushing to the elevator, you hit the button for the eleventh floor. The elevator was painstakingly slow, as it inched to the right floor. Every time the door opened to let people on and off, it made you that much more irritated. By the time it was finally at the right floor, your nerves were going haywire.

You walked down the long familiar hallway, until you stood outside of your dad's room. You could hear a lot of chatter from inside of the room. The talk seemed oddly cheerful which made you hesitant.

Slowly opening the door, you stepped inside. The atmosphere in the room was very uplifting. Everyone had smiles on their faces. Your dad was sitting up in his bed chatting with your uncle. When seeing you, your mom ran up to you and locked you in a tight hug.

“What's going on?!” You asked a little taken aback.

Looking around the room, you took in the maybe smiling faces. Your aunt, two uncles, and many cousins were all crowded around the small room. It was strange seeing them all so happy, after the many weeks of sadness and fear.

“Oh honey! We just received some wonderful news!” Your mom cheered grabbing you by the face.

“What is it?”

“Your dad's getting a new liver! They found a donor!”

“What?!” You asked your heart stopping. Although you wanted to believe it badly, you couldn't force yourself to have hope. “What do you mean they found a donor? What about the money? We haven't gotten together all the funds yet. How are we going to pay for the surgery?” You started rambling nervously.

“Y/n! Darling! Slow down!” She said sternly, putting her hands on your shoulders. “It's been taken care of!”

“Wait what? What do you mean it's been taken care of?”

“Yes darling. Your dad's entire hospital bill along with the cost of the surgery and transplant. Someone called in earlier and paid it in full. It's a miracle! An answered prayer!” She cried.

You were frozen in your spot. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your dad was going to get his liver, and he was going to be okay. Tears of joy started to fall down your cheeks as you took it all in.

“He's getting a liver?” You asked her wanting a conformation.

“He's getting a liver.” She cried, pulling you in for another hug. You held onto her tightly, burying your head in her shoulder. “He's going to be alright, I told you things would work out.” She spoke softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

Pulling away from her, you rushed to your dad's side. “Ohh daddy!” You said, throwing yourself into his lap and wrapping your arms around him. Losing yourself you wept into his chest.

“Oh honey! It's alright! I'm going to be just fine! I promise you. You're going to be stuck with me for a very long time!” He was still weak, but he didn't let that stop him from holding you closely.

“I'm holding you to that!” You cried.

“I'm not going anywhere sweetpea. Besides, if I'm gone who would walk you down the aisle when you get married. You know I wouldn't miss that for anything in the world.”

“Oh daddy! I love you!”

“I love you to sweetheart.” He spoke softly. Looking up, you noticed his eyes begin to droop.

“They just gave him his pain meds,” your mom informed you.

You simply nodded your head. “Get you some rest daddy, you're going to need your strength. Besides, there's something I need to do.” You gave him a kiss on the cheek and carefully got out of his bed.

“Where are you going?” Your mom asked curious.

“I think I know who our anonymous donor is,” you told her.

“What? Who could it be? I don't know anyone who would have that kind of money!”

“I do. I won't be long, I promise.” Giving her one final hug, you made your way out of the room.

Making your way out of the hospital, you reached for your phone. Smiling when you saw the picture of you and Harry, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” He answered after the third ring. His thick accent sent chills down your spine.

“You didn't have to do that you know.” You spoke into the phone, without a greeting.

He was quiet on the other end, trying to think of a response. After a minute of silence, you spoke again.

“Can I see you?” You asked, your heart beat rising.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “I'm at the studio right now, but I can meet you in a little bit if you'd like.”

“I can come there if you don't mind.”

“Alright,” he said hesitantly. “I'll text you the address.”

“Perfect. I'll see you in a bit!” Hanging up the phone, you called a taxi.

Five minutes later, a cab pulled up and you hurriedly got in. Giving him the address to the studio, you sat back and thought of what you were going to say to Harry.

#the spark #harry styles #i love you harry #harry styles fandom #harry styles fanfic #fanfic writing #fantasy #fandom #fanfic #I LOVE HARRY STYLES #love

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wwiilettershome · 5 years ago

Photo

Sunday Nite

Dear Pop,

Wrote small section of the “community letter” this afternoon. (1)

Cont. Monday

Last nite, as I just got started on this, word came through the grapevine that the O.D. (2) was really inspecting and being quite nasty. So was all ducked our letters and got studying. Ordinarily, they don’t say anything if you are writing letters, but this guy was a new 2nd L. And I guess he was a little scared.

Had an interesting trip to State Police H.Q. at Trenton this afternoon. We just got back. Had quite a talk with the ballistics expert. (3) That’s dog gone interesting work. They had quite an arsenal of pistols there. Everything from toy guns to a Germ. Mauser (4), which really looks like a weapon.

The trip to Newark was very nice in some respects and sort of boring in others. (Better not repeat to Mom.)

Sat. Morning at Radio City was the only chance I had to talk to Bertie alone, and you can’t very well talk in a theatre. (5) On Sunday, Hedwig (6) had Millie & Carrie (7) and Eleanor Koenig (8) over for dinner. Everything resolved itself to M & C & H. Talking about their trips and Bertie and me not getting a chance to even yawn. But the folks were all swell to us in their own way. Bertie got a lot of swell presents from everyone as you can imagine.

Some silly jerk just decided that we should have gas mask drill on our own time tonight. It makes me sore. We have little enough time as it is and why the hell they don’t let us alone is beyond me. Any dumb jerk that can’t get his mask on in 15 seconds deserves to be gassed anyway.

The grind here is tough, but I think it is the uncertainty of everything plus the futility of it that gets most of us.

As I have said before, the guys here fall into about three rough groupings. 1) This is one bunch that is scared silly to be sent to combat and will do most anything to keep out. [redacted] 2) A bunch of guys who for various reasons would never be any good in combat anyway (I-B’s older fellows) 3) Another bunch of us who are young, active and physically fit who are itchy and want to see some chance for advancing or at least a goal somewhere. So far, we have been offered nothing as a reward for grinding like hell around here. There are some who say “You should be happy to have the opportunity to just study” But I don’t go for that. The only reason I ever studied or ever wanted to study was so I could advance along some lines, then I lose interest. And that is just what is happening to a lot of guys around here.

In spite of the WCTU (9), I agree with you as to drinking as a means of relaxation (10). And as long as it does not interfere with other duties, I think it is O.K. In fact, the army says that a man over 20 who says he never drinks is a misfit. (11) That was one of the questions asked of the O.C.S. (12) group from Croft. Do you drink? Those who hesitated were thrown out immediately. Those who said “Yes” were not quizzed further. Those who said “No” were asked “Why not?”

Once in a while, a few of us go over to the Nassau Tavern (13) for a beer or a high ball. But as is the general case in the army (with privates anyway) the cost is too great. So the drinking is limited.

Thanks very much for the [unclear](14). At the rate I’m going it isn’t going to take too long to finish these up. I like that variety.

As far as money is concerned, I’m O.K. Costs a great deal more here than in camp. About $2.00 (15) weekly for uniforms and laundry. Won’t be able to save quite as much (16).

Well, have to fall out with gas masks now.

Love, Henry

Whatever this was, was neither explained further nor enclosed

I think this means Officer on Duty.

Great Niece who falls asleep listening to true crime podcasts is sitting here like - https://images.app.goo.gl/dXVTJ4Cqbr8U8qUTA

Even pre 1945 there were 16 different kinds of Mauser, more specificity please - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mauser

If only that were still true!! **sigh**

AKA, “Cousin Hattie”

Not 100% sure who they are and they’re not showing up on my extensive family tree, but I kinda recognize the names.

Ugh, again Koenig is a family name but not showing up on my tree. Sigh…

Contextually, I’m going to go with Women’s Christian Temperance Union - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Woman%27s_Christian_Temperance_Union

“Cheers” says his great niece, lifting her evening glass of Shiraz. (Bear in mind, however, that prohibition was only repealed about 10 years prior, so this was all a bit more debatable at the time.)

I didn’t even try to verify the authenticity of that statement - instead have this fascinating summary of the attitude toward drinking in WWII - https://warontherocks.com/2015/06/a-farewell-to-sobriety-part-two-drinking-during-world-war-ii/

Officers Candidate School

I think, this might possibly still exist, maybe? https://www.nassauinn.com/dining/

I have stared at this for 5 minutes and can’t even figure it out contextually.

$29.75 - according to Business Insider, the average yearly dry cleaning bill is $500, which boils down to $9.62 a week - quite a difference. But, when you’re stuck in a dorm in 1943, with limited laundry options . . .

Sadly, one thing I did not inherit is the New England parsimony. I could learn a bit here.

#princeton #new jersey #radio city music hall #WCTU #wwii #world war 2 #basic training #army #letters #handwriting

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luckyukhei · 6 years ago

Text

Decisions

Word Count: 2.1k! This one beats "Okay, Twilight" in length.

A/N: I've been working on this idea for ages! I'm finally doing it!

Summary: In her third year of going to a school notoriously known for its high population of Seoul's richest kids. In a world where her economic class is the most important thing about her, she's now faced with a more prevalent question. What Will You Choose?

AU: High School, Rich Kids

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader x Jaemin

Teaser Jaemin Version - Teaser Jaehyun Version

The first day of school was stressful just because of all the talk of class fees that your scholarship didn’t particularly pay for. Your group of friends waited for you as you made a call to your cousin asking if they had shifts for you to pick up at the family restaurant.

Making your way back to the group as they started walking with you. They were on scholarship to this school as well but, you were the poorest of the group. Being the goofs they were they were playfully horsing around. While you were quiet.

You felt a hand on your shoulder and Jaemin’s voice manifested directing itself at you, “What did your cousin say?”

“Oh,” You covered his hand in yours, “She’s picking me up to talk to my uncle about it?”

Haechan’s voice interrupted the small moment with the mentioning of someone else, “Chunja looks like she changed a bit over the summer. You going to slide up on her?”

“Who says that?” Renjun squinted at the unarguably most wild of the bunch.

“I do, No fun Renjun.” Haechan raised his fist to pretend to hit Renjun but, instead, he nudged Jaemin.

Jaemin rubbed his neck,” I dunno maybe. You think she’d be into me?”

Your heart barely had time to swell in an odd feeling when the whole group slowed down. You didn’t have much of a choice because of your position in the middle of the group but, to stop as you heard the speeding of a car pass the group with hooping and hollering.

You looked at Mark as he mumbled, “God. They’re such asses. Rich kids...”

The group continued their own conversations even causing Chenle’s dolphin laugh ring out among the group.

You squeezed through to stand next to him, “Don’t you hang out with them sometimes?”

He nodded in response, “That’s only because my uncle has money and makes his stepson take me with him so my mom feels like I’m assimilating fine.”

“Look at you! Using big words! Sounding all educated.” You laughed at him and he gave you a big brother seeming smile.

They always dropped you off at your house first then Jaemin as he lived right next to you. This time you took notice of your cousin’s car in the driveway along with your mother’s.

“Movie night at Mark- Hyung’s on Saturday!” Jisung reminded you.

“Jisung, it’s Monday. What are you gonna do? Remind her every day?” Jeno teased as they left.

You walked inside greeting your siblings, who excitedly talked about the first day back from break, and mother, who always took the first day of school off of work.

“Jiwoo is waiting for you in your room. We’ll talk about your day when you get back.” Your mom winked at you as she continued listening to your young sister.

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded at her and walked to your room.

After years of saving up and asking for certain decorations for your birthday or even creating some of them, including a wobbly desk that served as a reminder of why you and the “Dream Team” shouldn’t be anywhere near Woodworking class or power tools in general. One thing that wasn’t apart of your room was your cousin who was lounging on your with two big bags set on the floor.

“What did you bring me?” You asked, tossing your bag in your desk chair.

“Well, hello to you too,” Jiwoo chuckled and wobbled on her knees to the edge of the bed, “I figured that since the girls at my college really liked you from your visit, they wanted to add on to this set of hand me downs. They even gave you old jewelry and shoes. Those are in my car. Although it seems lame that you’re wearing others clothes and stuff.”

You smiled as you looked through the clothes, “Are you kidding me? These are all so pretty and nice!”

“Yeah. They’re nice but, you deserve clothes you bought not preowned.” She told you with sadness laced in her voice.

“That’s why I work hard now, Ji... Tell them I said thank you,” You gave her a big smile as you held up a crop top and a pair of jeans, “For now, let’s try on this cute outfit.”

You sat with Jiwoo and ate ice cream that she leaves in the freezer just in case she has to stay in the restaurant late. You both eat ice cream out of the tub and talk.

“Today, on the way home Haechan was talking to Jaemin about Chunja,” You started scooping out a spoonful of ice cream.

“And this is significant why?” Jiwoo asked, sipping her drink.

“First off, Jaemin is my best friend and he has never, ever, said anything about this girl to me.” You put the spoon in your mouth.

“Is sweet little Y/N jealous?” Jiwoo teased.

You rolled your eyes, “No, I’m not jealous. Just worried. Chunja is one of the most popular girls in school and I think she’s-”

You dragged your eyes to look at a group of boys who started to wave you over.

“Those kids go to your school?” Jiwoo asked looking over.

“Yeah. They’re Flushes.” You told her standing.

“Flushes?” She asked tilting her head. She grew up rather middle class so some slang she just hasn’t heard.

“Shitty rich people.” You told her before walking over to the table.

You knew of all of them. You knew Lucas fairly well. He hung out with you and The Dreamies every now and then. He was a cool person and fit right in but, he only hung out with the group if his rich friends. He did tell you when he hung out with his friends if you or anyone in the group saw him call him Yukhei.

“Hey, Yukhei!” You gave him a fist bump and a wink.

“Hey, beautiful. I’ve got a few questions for you.” He told you with his ‘playboy’ voice.

“Anything for you.” You nudged him.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas smiled.

“I hope your hoodrat friends aren’t here,” Taeyong muttered before being hit by Jaehyun. Taeyong was known for his distaste for the scholarships. He would go out of his way not to be associated with any of them except Mark.

“My family owns this place.” You answered ignoring the comment and the assault of Taeyong.

“They do?” Jaehyun inquired seemingly interested. You had a few classes with Jaehyun but, you never really talked because you had at least one member from your group in your classes. But, this year he has two classes with you. One filled with his friends and another with you and two of your friends.

You nodded and looked at Yukhei, “Next question. “

“That ice cream you had looked really good... Do they sell it here?”

“No, sorry.” You chuckled and rubbed on your neck.

“See I told you,” Jungwoo hit Yukhei’s shoulder then looked at you, “Yukhei’s is wrong about most things.”

Jaehyun spoke up,” He was right about one thing.”

“Oh? What was that?” You asked playing along.

“You definitely are beautiful,” Jaehyun took your hand gently, “We’re having a party this Saturday. I would love for you to come.”

You looked around before leaning toward the center and beckoning them to lean, “I’m sure you wouldn’t want a hoodrat messing up your party. Plus, I’ve got better things to do than hang out with a bunch of Flushes.”

Before any of them could respond you did a full 180 and waved them goodbye, “Bye, boys. Don’t forget to tip your waitress. I know you’ve got the cash.”

You slid into the office where your uncle usually counted money at night and where the security footage was collected. He told you to wait in there while he finished some things up. Jiwoo was seated on the table and started clapping as you slipped in.

“I have no idea what you did but, they tipped Ms.Kim fifty dollars,” Jiwoo smirked at you,” One of them left you his number.”

“Toss it.” You told her.

“Y/N... He’s a rich kid. Maybe his your way out.”

“He’s a Flush and I’m my own way out.” You couldn’t continue because your uncle came in.

“Y/N, I can’t give you any shifts.”

Your heart dropped, “I need the money...” You were willing to do anything. You worked hard to make sure you were helping your mom out in any way. As long as her and your siblings were taken care of you would work every minute you weren’t in school.

He held out a stack of bills,” That’s why I’m handing it to you. Y/N, you work so hard for everything you have so now it’s time for us to let you relax. You’re still a kid. You aren’t an adult you shouldn’t work like one. Just maintain good grades and get out of the lower class and I’ll help take care of you.”

Your eyes began to water before tears quickly made their way down your chin before you hugged the old man with as much strength as you could muster, “Thank you so much.”

Little did any of you know that the blessing to relax would come at the cost of teenage drama.

That night you were putting your new clothes, shoes, and jewelry away while playing music. There was a knock on your window. You jerked your head towards the window and saw a smiling Jaemin at your window. This was a frequent occurrence that started in middle school. When Mark wanted to hold a group meeting or Jaemin just wanted to come over.

You unlocked the window and slid it open, “Are you staying or are we going?”

“We’re going. Put a jacket and some shoes on.”

“Yes, sir.” You pulled a pair of shoes on and a jacket before taking Jaemin’s hand and climbing out the window and on to the raggedy old roof. From there you climbed down the tree by your house that connected your backyards.

You both dusted your hands off and stuffed your hands in your pockets. You two didn’t really talk. There were a few reasons for that.

A group of voices and smell of distant weed was one of those reasons. Instinctively Jaemin yanked your hood to cover your head and then covered his. He brought you into his side and shielded you.

The group watched you two walked by. They used to be your friends. You grew up with them but, ever since your group got scholarships to the “rich kid school” they felt like your group was trying to become “Flushes”. Although that wasn’t the case.

Another reason was keeping quiet until you got to the rest of the group as it was in your best interest not to get caught as rumors spread fast in a school full of snobby kids who are all watching all the time. Looking for reasons to justify the want in the separation of both groups.

The meeting place was at the picnic table by the swings in the park. Jaemin hopped the fence and you followed suit.

The smell of pizza caused you to run to the spot and grab a slice of pizza.

“Hello to you too,” Chenle commented and you lovingly leaned on him.

With a mouthful of pizza, you asked,” Who’s to thank for feed yours truly?”

Mark raised his hand and you blew him a kiss.

“What’s the meeting about, great leader?” Jaemin asked in a joking manner.

“It’s about Saturday,” He leaned on the pole,” Johnny, my uncle’s stepson, invited us to a party this Saturday.”

“Okay... Did you say no?” Jeno asked eating some pizza.

“I told them we’d be there.” Mark sighed at the chorus of groans.

“Saturday is for the boys plus, Y/N not a bunch of rich kids we don’t like.” Jisung voiced.

“For once in his very young life, Jisung is very right.” You spoke up.

“Guys, this is our chance to befriend the rich kids. Show them that we aren’t that bad. So, Saturday, I want you in your best party clothes. I want you guys to show those Flushes how we ‘hoodrats’ get down.” Mark got his leadership voice and you raised your hand.

“We can meet up at my place since it takes me the longest to get ready.” You offered.

“I’ll take my dad’s van and pick everyone up,” Jeno suggested.

“Sounds good,” Mark nodded, “Y/N, did your uncle give you any shifts?”

“He told me to stop working like an adult and to relax then handed me money for class fees “

Haechan smiled at you, ”Thank Goodness. Now we don’t have to hang out at the restaurant when you work. What are we gonna do with all this time with our favorite girl?”

“Get through the party with the rich kids,” Jaemin answered.

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southboundhqarchive · 6 years ago

Photo

MEET LENNOX,

FULL NAME › Lennox “Len” Milø Holm AGE › thirty eight GENDER › Cis male (He/Him/His) FROM › Blythe, California RESIDENCY › Laguna Street (Midtown) OCCUPATION › Sheriff’s Deputy at the Amen County Sheriff’s Department NOW PLAYING › I’ll Be Good by Jaymes Young

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: blood, injury references, death

There was nothing quite as sure in the world as the fact that Petyr and Isabella Holm loved each other beyond the stars and back, and so in turn did everyone they met. It was difficult you see, for a young couple from a little village back across the Atlantic to manage living in the new promised land of America. Money was low near constantly, and no matter how hard Petyr worked they always only ever made ends meet. But everyone was friendly, everyone adored the gentle-faced man and his comely wife, always willing to lend a hand here or there to keep them afloat - for surely they didn’t deserve the low hand life had dealt them. Kindness begets kindness. They told sweet Isabella that her face belonged on the big screen, that her way with words and emotion near guaranteed her a place among the elite of California. So she went, and she auditioned, and she strove her hardest in small part after small part - never quite landing the big roles, but always landing something wherever she set her heart. It was enough, for a long time. It was enough. Petyr’s side business was not-quite-booming, and his wife could maintain her travel to and from the main city for her work and they were happy with their lot. Very happy. Made only happier still by the arrival of their newborn son, who charmed every single one of the glowing couple’s friends with just a glance.

With the good looks of his mother and the quiet countenance of his father, Lennox Holm added new life to the simple apartment complex his family called home. So enthralled with everything he could see and touch and feel from the moment he could conceive complex thought, Len was a balm against the ever present underlying monetary stress his parents fought ever harder. An extra mouth to feed pushed things, but they never let it show. They laughed and loved and raised him as best they could - made sure baby Lennox understood his heritage more than anything. He grew, fast and strong, with foreign words falling from his tongue as easily as the English his friends spoke. No one gave it second thought, California was the state of high hopes and peoples from every walk of life. As he aged, learnt ever more about his ancestry, questions bubbled up and up and up. Why did he hear nothing from his great aunts, his uncles, his cousins? All these years and they had nothing new from relatives left behind in their homelands - the sharp sting of disappointment echoed in the pointed absence. And it hurt to know he’d never see them, or learn family secrets passed between generations, the joys and hardships long won by ancestors.

But concern for that soon faded in the face of bigger upset. Their lives had never been exactly frivolous, scraped and saved for every small luxury they can afford beyond the bare minimum of food and water and power and shelter. Lennox never asked for more, quiet and content in the frugal way of life his parents meeked out for him. And it was, for the most part, a lie. Barely into his childhood and oblivious to the fact that his father’s door-to-door business was failing, that his mother’s parts were becoming few and far between and the constant cost of travel into the big city and back to their little apartment in Blythe, well - they were on a rapid path to destitution. Eventually Isabella gave up her acting career, retreated back home and simply spent her waking hours doting upon her bright young boy and fretting over the next bill. Oh they did as all parents do, kept Lennox far from the harsh reality they faced with each red-letter and apologetic but firm notice from the landlord. Eventually, it took its toll.

The Holms had always been a prime example of a marriage gone right, they loved each other deeply and tenderly, with nary an argument beyond what was deemed healthy at the time. They looked out for the other, Petyr cooked when Isabella was too tired from her commute or her auditions to even consider doing so, and she did odd jobs around the house whenever she had an off week between shoots. They shared all burdens, but the sheer weight of their encroaching poverty made that warm bond between them snap. The nights became a screaming match behind closed doors, muffled only enough to keep their neighbours from the brunt of it. Lennox spent these hours curled on his bed, legs tucked under chin and hands forced over his ears. He stopped crying after the first month. He stopped feeling afraid after six. He stopped caring by the time their issues drew the attention of their friends and new-family, culminating in the snap decision by his father that it was time to give up on California, move to a cheaper state, find better lines of work. So - they packed up what little they’d gathered over the years, stacking sentimental treasures in with what remained of trinkets saved from Sweden all those years ago. They had no destination in mind, truly, only to drive and see where the road took them, letting fate dictate perhaps. (His parents would say, years down the line in their last few weeks; Boot Hill chose us, Boot Hill was perfect. Lennox, many a time, would disagree with the latter.)

They spent a month on the road, all in all, dipping from motel to motel with increasingly worse living conditions, until one day it came. The sign. A half crumpled leaflet stuck by days old maple syrup to the plastic veneer of a table in a roadside diner. Boot Hill, it proclaimed; affordable apartments. That enough sparked interest in sensible Petyr. Their funds weren’t drastic quite yet, but for these prices? A lucky find indeed. And on the back, smeared but still legible through the leftover food, Isabella saw her own sign. Advertisements. So many, with such reasonable pay and oh, the kicker. Drama teacher needed at Boot Hill High. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence that the family would find such a perfect opportunity. They paid their bill, and asked the middle-aged waitress where they could find this veritable paradise and gave her the rest of their change.

Boot Hill as it turned out, was a quaint little town with all the rustic charm of an old western like the ones Isabella would sometimes star in. (Lennox could feel how weird it was even then; an observant child with old eyes). It was refreshing, the chance for them to start again on their American dream and perhaps this time it would stick. With her previous experience, it took but one simple interview for his mother to gain the position, and many a student claimed her to be their favorite. Old Mrs Holm, they’d say, what a breath of fresh air. She thrived, and after a year of feeling tense, of watching her grow more timid and withdrawn, mouth a stern line, Isabella smiled once more. His father became a little adrift at this new pace of life, unsure of his place within the town until a chance conversation at the bar one night led to a comfortable position at the local market. His history with sales made him ever so useful after all. So the Holms were content with their new life. Happy. Oblivious. Lennox was not.

While it is true that Boot Hill was near idyllic with it’s friendly neighbourhoods and simple lifestyles, there was something just ever so slightly off. A trick of the light at the corner of the eye, the vague sense of something watching when there was truly nothing there. An underlying tension that most were ignorant to, but Lennox saw it as only a child could. It was simple at first, and his parents merely thought it childish fantasy when he relayed to them that dear Mr Jameson down the road walked the same path to and from his front door everyday, that his smile was identical, that it is always 7am on the dot and not a second later, that he dropped his keys mere inches from his car at the same second, in the same way, everyday. Odd, they would say, but he is an old man and his hands must be weak, do stop staring at the man Lennox. (He did, but only because one day Mr Jameson looked up from his keys and met his gaze; there was something in that look that left him with nightmares the next week).

There was always something just slightly wrong with Boot Hill, but as Lennox’s schooling progressed and baby fat trimmed down into a lanky pre-teen body, he had bigger things to worry about than the strange cicadas outside his window at night. He’d never stood out, never wanted to, but he was bright and attentive and considerate; something his teachers had always appreciated back in Blythe and it was no different here. A new town, but the same routines. School would be the same no matter where in the world you went, he thought. But he made friends all the same, ones who found his foreign accent, however soft, to be fascinating. That took the time to learn his past, as well as make plans to be in his future - afternoons spent by the pool during the summer and bbqs during the autumn nights. He wasn’t the actress’ son, nor that nice salesman’s boy. He was simply him, and that made all the difference. Popularity of course, came with some drawbacks eventually as they aged. (But he’d never wanted to go with them that night; not really).

The girls grew more attentive as time progressed and Lennox knew he was handsome, that there was something pleasing in the way his features sat - he was his mother’s son, and oh his manner. Softly spoken, a gentle smile as he said his thank yous and pleases, a picture perfect gentleman just as his father had raised him to be. Lennox had never cared for it back in Blythe, but there was something nice to being liked; that his friends would ask advice before a big test, or invite him for games at their homes for the weekend. There was never a sense that he didn’t belong. (Boot Hill never let people feel that way, he found). So really, he had no reason to act out, as he saw others of his peers sometimes do. Late night fights and want for rebellion from their stifling families, from the sheer pressure of being good. Nothing he could relate to, really. But then, he’d not quite found his place within the school just yet. (That would come later). But he was fine with how things went, his grades were above average and his teachers were pleased and his parents doted upon him ever more now that they could. Now the weight of the secrets they bore were gone. And, there hadn’t been an argument in years. It was paradise.

High school was a whole other beast that consumed something deep inside Lennox, something he’d never quite known had been there. Popularity became the be all and end all, finding your place in the steady flow of bodies now raging with irritating hormones, where behaviour spiked in all manner of ways. Many friends grew apart, most of his childhood ones finding different paths and though it was upsetting to become once again another face among the tide of teenagers, it was also once again… freeing. Now he towered over most of his peers, attention grabbing in a completely different way, his teachers grew interested in some of his hidden talents. (That’s all he was in the crux of it; a pair of legs that didn’t stop). Track. The freedom of running, feet pounding again and again and again over coloured tarmac and oh, the heady sense of power hidden beneath his skin. Lennox finally felt as though he could breathe. He rose through the ranks, competed and won over and over in every challenge they threw at him. It was strange and exhilarating and heady and once again Isabella sat her son down and said, this is paradise.

And that was where things became wrong again. At night something moved behind his house just shy of his window, a scratch scratch scratch against the wall and a shadow playing across the house opposite. Lennox looked. (There was nothing there; no matter how fast he went to the window, no matter how long he stayed, waiting, watching). A howl. The same howl, pitched low and deep. The same howl, every night, at precisely 3am. Lennox listened, he saw the oddities that his friends would laugh at him for. That his parents scolded him for. And all those childhood dreams, the nightmares, well perhaps they weren’t dreams at all. He started a journal, wrote down whatever he witnessed and kept it hidden in the folds of his mattress. Eventually it became a habit, and one he hardly noticed he kept. Lennox never could fathom how his parents didn’t see it, the callous almost irate way they shrugged his concerns away but then - Boot Hill citizens never did see. (And then it happened; and they no longer cared what he thought).

Track meets were a tradition, afternoons spent training and finding better ways to conserve their stamina for the long stretches of tarmac beneath the soles of their shoes. Evenings spent with flavoured soda, and eventually alcohol flavoured with just a hint of the sugar-rich drinks. Teenage boys growing rowdy and jeering dares at each other in the pale light of dusk. Dares none of them ever refused. Some got tiny cuts from idiotic stunts pulled to make their friends laugh, or draw attention from the small collection of girls that flocked to the parties once the coach was gone. (Boys will be boys, they say). Lennox managed to avoid these sessions most nights, getting free with simple dares near the beginning and keeping that perfect level of quiet - assessing what to say and when to shift and where to stand to keep the steadily drunker attention away from himself. But one night, just the one, he felt a loosening in his chest and thought - why not? What’s the worst that could happen? (A lot).

They cajoled him into a car, the driver only just sober enough to get them out into the deserted parts of Boot Hill without killing them all. He swerved around animals no one could see, and Lennox felt unease build, but then alcohol did strange things to the mind did it not. Eerie howls followed them, growing closer and further on an uneven loop that had them laughing. (Lennox regrets getting in the car). The caves a a dark smudge beyond the headlights when they screeched to a stop half an hour later, a pack of drunk teens high on the prospect of a new level of danger. They’d been warned not to go there, many times. But that only makes the desire to go there ever sweeter, when it’s forbidden. The caves are cold despite the summer air sticking the shirts to their backs and Lennox is told what he must do. Go inside and wait out the screams rumored to echo there at night. Pride had never been an issue before, but something in him wanted to prove himself. (They think it was the tequila). Lighter flame at his right and the giggled whispers of his friends at his back and of course he went in, sure that the rumors were truly rumors. It was dark and damp and cold and the cave roof was uncomfortably low the further he went in, until he could no longer hear the teens outside nor the rumble of the engine they’d left idling. It was fine. Until a soft breeze hit the flame, that bit at his fingers so sharply he dropped it and was left standing in pitch darkness. No amount of fumbling found the cool metal of the lighter and Lennox felt panic creep in. There was something in there with him, he was so sure of it. He called out, and nothing answered him. (But there was breathing, he could hear the air breathing).

Someone came in after him, the more sober friend who’d driven them there, an ounce of common sense left in the dredges of his mind. It was so dark, they had no light between them, and Lennox felt real fear that night. The other boy did reach him, could hear Lennox calling out as if he were right next to him and reached out confidently. Lennox heard the other boy’s yell. He felt the hot splash on his wrist all the way up to his shoulder, metallic and heavy and very obviously blood. (He doesn’t remember how they got out; only the red and blue flash of lights in the corner of his eye). The Holms stopped the track career the following day. And Lennox let them. The boy didn’t die, but there was no chance of him ever running again. An old bear trap, the sheriff said, left behind in the cave to trap coyotes. It was a miracle Lennox missed it, they said. His parents stopped looking at him with such open adoration after that, and he learned to heed warnings.

School ended with little affair, and with little celebration because they all knew he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Not now his parents had slowly reached an age to which care was needed. They’d had him old, you see. A heart attack claimed his mother in his twenties, when he’d been home and unsure where to go with his prospects. He’d cried for the first time in a decade then, as he watched them lower her into the ground with his father silent beside him. Petyr grew ever frailer, but he had one last piece of advice before memories began to muddle in his mind. (Hard-working, clever, observant Lennox; go atone for that boy’s life). It took another few months before the elder Holm was too frail to stay at home, moved into what passed for care in the little town of Boot Hill. And Lennox found his place again, afresh.

For years he served as simple dogsbody and general officer at the sheriff’s station, answering calls for hooligans destroying property, or elderly women needing help with their homes. He learn the filing system as well as the back of his hand, he’d joke when the deputy asked how he fared. He’d not reached the lofty heights his mother had once hoped for him, but something about police work sat right with him. A hum to his bones that said, yes. (Things were still odd in Boot Hill; and where better to observe them than with the sheriff). The progress was slow, but Lennox was a determined sort, never shirking duty, never bemoaning what they had dealt him for the day and he was rewarded ever so slowly. (Promotion, they said one day, years down the line). Yes, he said, in return.

Twenty nine, and the youngest deputy they’d had for a while and oh it kept his mind busy from the looming gulf about to strike. Petyr Holm was not a well man, had looked ever sadder as the years went by after the loss of his sweet Isabella. He never forgot her, and those who still spoke to the man always felt a sense of admiration for the strength of love the Holm’s had had for one another. His father passed in his sleep, clutching a small photo of Isabella. Lennox very much wanted to leave the town, now he had nothing to hold him back, no lingering duty to his family who’d loved him and supported him all those years. But then something always came up, derailed his well made plans to leave. His car battery spewing acid, paperwork piling so high on his desk he could hardly see, responsibility passed down by the sheriff himself to keep him working ever harder. And he stopped thinking it was weird.

His journal sits under his mattress in his new apartment, untouched since his father’s passing. Pages worn, and unread for years.

❝ a mess of blistering wax burns - the harsh reality of broken bones. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Alexander Skarsgard AUTHOR › Fen

#alexander skarsgard #rp #rpg #town rp #oc rp #{ all. }#{ local. }#{ m. }#{ over thirty. }#{ fen. }#death tw

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candimcart · 6 years ago

Text

Hello, Hello! So, it’s been a bit since I took the time to blog. Kassie keeps me pretty busy from day to day, especially with Mike working two jobs. But guess what, after a year and 8 months of hustling Mike is finally able to be home with us in the evenings! For awhile he was working seven days and over 70 hours a week with almost zero complaints. He came home from one job, rushed off the second, came home well past his bed time and still made sure to squeeze in time with his little girl. He is seriously, above and beyond an amazing father. But, now the rushing in and out comes to an end. We received our final adoption invoice last month and were able to pay it off the next day! I felt that since so many people were involved with our adoption journey it was best to share our total cost and how we got to that number. I will try to be brief in the only way I know, which is to not to. (Tow Mater? Cars? Anyone?)

Here it is: WAIT! Let me back up!

WE FINALIZED OUR ADOPTION!!!!!!

I was sitting in a movie theater beside my cousin, David watching A Quiet Place when I got the email. I am generally not one of those jerks who checks their phone during a movie but, I knew that on this day a judge would be deciding our fate with Kassie’s biological father. I should have been enjoying the two hour mommy break and cringing at the monsters that hunt noise but instead, I was spaced out focused on my thigh where my phone was sitting silently. When I felt the buzz I grabbed my phone and with the screen light turned all the way down read the words ” Biological Father has had rights revoked today. We can finalize!” Of all the movies I chose to loudly sob in, why did it have to be one that’s main theme is silence? I remember my cousin leaning over to ask if I was okay and I just whispered “She’s ours” and for the rest of the movie I just keep saying to myself “She’s ours” in disbelief.

Finally Forever Family May 18th, 2018!

If you don’t know me personally you may not understand that I am a crier. I’m a sentimental and angry crier. I don’t cry over sadness like I do over happiness (and at times, madness.) Well, this was the happiest day of my life. The judge said “Are you ready? Raise your right hands.” and I lost it. Shortly after, Mike did too. I love him so much for not being afraid to cry in public.

We found the perfect little shelter at the perfect little park but it only came with a 40 person limit. I cried about that. Narrowing it down from the few hundred people who joined us on our journey was not fun for us at all. But, we did our best and hopefully no one was hurt along the way.

The turnout was wonderful as well as the cake and cupcakes by Aunt Brandy. Bampaw and Bammaw surprised us with a big star cut out of a sheet for all of our friends and family to encircle for a photo shot on my Dad’s new drone. It was a wonderful way to celebrate such a long awaited end to our journey and allow for our brand new journey to begin.

Okay, here it is! Drumroll please…

$8,280.22!!!!

What? How is that even possible? Every website. Every agency. Every person. They all said $25,000-$55,000 in our state so how did we get away with $8,280.22 for our entire adoption? Well, there are several reasons that led to this for us and they are NOT as uncommon as you (I’m talking to you waiting adoptive parents) are told.

1: The stars aligned. (They can for you too, waiting parents!)

2: Bio Mom refused counseling. She was very confident and happy with her decision.

3: Bio Mom refused an attorney.

4: Bio Mom had her own insurance.

5: Bio Mom did not request any financial assistance other than $50 in gas to drive from her home to our city for TPR (Termination of Parental Rights).

6: Our Attorney was AMAZING! He is a well known Adoption Attorney in OK and he is well recognized nationally as well. He and his wife run their adoption agency which began after they adopted their daughters in the 80’s. They are hugely responsible with changing laws and adoption practices in Oklahoma. He will absolutely not take a dime from his clients until shortly before baby is due, or in our case the day baby is born. We handed him $3500. He and his wife Linda met us at the hospital with all of the paperwork ready to be signed. They seriously made this process so easy which would have been a hundred times easier had I not tried to control everything. The day they came to the hospital our attorney had to get right in my view and say “You are Mommy now. That is the number one job for you. We will be the attorneys. You just go home and be a regular Mommy now. Trust us.” I didn’t feel like I was being a control freak but if nothing else he probably saw my nerves rattled to the bone. He knew just what to say, I took his advice and I found my peace in that moment. I find it very important that every choice you make when on this journey feels like “home”. You will know that feeling when it hits you. If you make a decision and it doesn’t have that comfortable, “I’m home” feeling, change it! This is how we chose our adoption attorney and our home study worker. With that being said and out of the way, if you are looking for an adoption attorney start here: Swain Law, Adoption Attorney!

7: This may make me unpopular (not that I care) and this is coming from my personal experience combined with the experience of other adoptive parents I have gotten to know… Agencies, some…most…all (?) may have the best intentions but they don’t make money off of expectant mothers who choose to parent their child. Adoption Agencies are businesses and just like every other business they need to have income to survive. They also rule the marketing world for adoption. Google “How do I adopt?” and you you will be swarmed with agencies and guidelines that all tell you going through a private adoption like ours will end in heartbreak more often than not. Well, let me tell you. I was in the biggest adoption group on Facebook and guess what I learned… “Adoption Disruptions” are not any more common with private/attorney adoption versus agency adoption. I have seen couples shell out $3,000 and up (way up) to get he ball rolling on adoptions via agencies and the expectant mother decides to parent. I have seen babies go to adoptive homes and the biological mother decide to parent. Guess what happens? Adoptive parents are forced to return what has already been their baby and they, in most cases are out the money spent. I have seen adoptive parents lose their entire savings and end up childless and broke leaving them with only one choice: find away to be satisfied never being parents. I saw it more times than I ever thought I would. We are so lucky that we chose to have all avenues open for us. We chose to start the process with finding an expectant mother while fundraising and saving for an agency (before I know what I know now about agencies). Some couples refuse to even go the route we did for fear of disruption and STILL end up with the heartbreak of a disrupted adoption.

I made sure to listen and absorb every story I could, not only from adoptive couples and waiting couples but from adoptees and biological parents. When we began our journey I had no clue what the Adoption Pyramid was nor did I care. I just wanted to be a Mommy… NOW. My heart was getting bitter and nothing mattered more to me than being someone’s Mommy. I am so glad that I learned all about the pyramid through hours and hours of reading posts, listening to podcasts, reading blogs, watching videos, etc. Having that knowledge BEFORE Kassie was born has very much changed the path of our adoption. We didn’t just gain a daughter, we gained another family. Her biological family is our family now too. I hope they always choose to be in our lives. Okay, I trailed off as I do. I am fortunate to have used the resources available to me to learn all about the importance of the pyramid. I listened to so many adoptees and biological mothers tell their stories. So often, the biological mothers have gone through the agencies instead of privately finding a couple like Kassie’s bio family did. They go through the agencies because they feel safer, they feel like the couples are screened better, and there is less chance of anything going wrong. Unfortunately they (their words, not mine) are manipulated into placing their child when they are vulnerable and unprepared to make that huge decision. You know what…this may just be a blog for another time. I am sure I will be attacked for saying these things that I learned in the dark and speaking them into the light. So let me stop with full intention to bring this to light another time when I am better able to articulate what I mean.

So here is a final recap:

Adoption Method: Private Infant Domestic Adoption

Timeline:

June 6th, 2017: Began spreading our story and calling for Star Hunters to help get the word out.

July 27th, 2017: Contacted through our blog by Bio Grandmother.

October 2017 (week of Oct 25th) Paid $3500 to Swain Law.

October 25th, 2017: Kassie is born!

October 31st, 2017: Bio Mom signs TPR.

May 18th, 2018: Adoption is Finalized!

Total Amount Raised: Just under $4,000 if I recall(I can’t get into my office right now to grab the fundraiser papers so I will edit in the exact number when I can!

Total Amount Saved: just over $5,000!!!

Total Cost: $8,280.22!

So, there it is. THANK YOU ALL AGAIN for joining us on our journey in whatever way you did!!! ❤ ❤ ❤

-Mommy, Daddy, & Kassie Too

The Final Bill Hello, Hello! So, it's been a bit since I took the time to blog. Kassie keeps me pretty busy from day to day, especially with Mike working two jobs.

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hennessy-jacen · 4 years ago

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Jacen Hennessy (Pre-Henneson)

Basic Facts.

What is Your Character’s Name?

Jacen with a "c", Denver like the city, Hennessy like the brandy.

How does the character feel about his or her name?

I like it well enough. It's a great conversation starter.

How did he or she get this name? Was it passed on from a family member, or did the parents read it on the side of a cereal box the day the child was born?

My parents wanted to be unique? Just swapped an "s" for a "c", an "o" for an "e"? They met in Denver and my dad is super

Irish

. Like embarrassingly Irish.

What is the meaning of the name?

It comes from a Gaelic name that sounds similar but is spelled with more vowels than I can fit in my mouth.

What culture did the name originate from?

Irish.

Super

Irish.

What regions of the world did the name come from?

Ireland. Like many Irish things.

What connotations or stereotypes does the name have?

I'm an alcoholic from Colorado named Jason?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

How old is your character?

When was he or she born?

October 5, 1991

What events were happening locally, nationally and globally the year your character was born?

Terminator came out. My parents got into a fight cause my mom insisted on watching it in theaters six months pregnant. So basically Arnold Schwarzenegger is to blame for everything that's wrong with me.

What is the zodiac sign?

Libra

Does his or her zodiac sign have any bearing on their personality traits?

My mom says I have great patience like all good Libras.

What Chinese Horoscope year were they born in?

The year of the great goat lol

How does this influence their personality traits?

I make b-a-a-a-a-a-ad jokes?

How does your character like to celebrate his or her birthday?

Like it was any other day. It's a treat to be busy and have consistency in my day to day life. I'm fine if no one knows or cares.

What does your character look like?

Like a pasty hobbit?

Is your character Athletic or Overweight? Tall or Short?

I'm 5'9 so reaching for things is a struggle but they made sure I could lift three times my weight if push came to shove during paramedic training so I guess I have that going for me.

Hair color and length?

I used to have blonde hair when I was a kid but it got darker real quick. It's pretty brown now and I like keeping it short-ish. Just as long as it's out of my way, I'm good.

Eye color?

Bl...ue? I think that's what my license says.

Any scars or birth marks?

A couple of scars here and there just from getting scraped up on the job. Nothing serious.

Does your character have a physical disability?

No, thankfully and luckily, considering how easy it is to get bent out of shape in my job.

What actress or actor would you have play the role of your character if it was a movie?

Haha, maybe if I was more photogenic, tall, and muscular, Ryan Gosling. Basically, if I wasn't a pasty hobbit then Ryan Gosling.

What style of clothes does your character wear?

I like being comfortable. But I also like looking good when I don't

have

to be comfortable. I own a lot of flannel plaid, a couple of leather-ish jackets, a ton of jeans, a lot of t-shirts and a lot of sweatpants. Not very inventive.

What clothes would he or she wear every day on a casual basis?

All the plaid in the world. And then some.

For a night out on the town?

I own slacks. Somewhere. And some button-downs that aren't plaid. And cologne.

To bed?

Shorts or just my boxers.

Does he or she wear any special jewelry or accessories?

Can't really wear jewelry to work at the risk of it ending up on the ambulance floor and at that point it's gone forever.

What type of shoes does your character wear?

Sneakers for days. All the Dr. Scholl's you can handle is under my feet, day in, day out.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Where does your character live?

Girard Estates, South Philly.

Is it an Apartment? House? In the backseat of his car?

It's the second floor of a house so it's pretty comfortable.

How does your character feel about the current living arrangements?

Pretty comfortable lol I've been there for a while, I like it, it's home.

Does your character live with anyone else? Who are those people?

Not anymore.

How does your character get along with his or her neighbors?

My downstairs neighbors are pretty cool. Their dog shows up on my doorstep sometimes so that's cute, I guess? Who has a dog door on their front door and not the door leading into the backyard? Anyway, they're a couple, they're cool.

What is the view outside of your character's window?

Trees, hedges, sidewalk, some cars. Most people park in their garages or driveways though.

What items do they keep next to their bed?

My phone, my Fitbit, a lamp. A chapstick when it decides not to roll off on its own accord.

What is your character's most valuable possession?

I value all of my material things with the same amount of indifference lol I don't have anything crazy valuable. I guess I'd be mad if someone stole my TV or laptop or headphones but that's just cause they were expensive, not cause they're sentimental valuable. Unless you meant monetarily valuable cause then definitely my TV. The thing cost an arm and a leg.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

What does the character do for a living?

I'm a paramedic.

Do they find this work enjoyable?

Yeah, it's rewarding even though it's like 80% organized chaos and 20% escorting highly inebriated people to the drunk tank to sleep it off.

What is your character's dream job?

I guess I'd like to properly go to medical school someday, get my degree and all...but I also feel like I procrastinated it for too long. I'm 25, by the time I go to school and get into the practice I'll be ancient...I dunno. Maybe one day. I love it where I am though and I don't know if I'd miss the energy if being a paramedic if I was confined to a building all day.

What is your character's financial situation?

I'm doing good, I'm comfortable. I can get nice things that I want without having to think too hard about it so it's a luxury I feel like I'm lucky to have.

What does your character spend most of his/her money on?

I spend a lot of money on food. It's dumb, I like to treat myself to nice meals. That and recreation, I like new experiences a lot so I don't mind paying for like scuba diving lessons and stuff.

What would your character do if he or she won the lottery?

I'd probably help some people out, like pay some medical school bills for some friends. I know some really good people who help others out a lot that are drowning in crippling debt cause they made the decision to help others out and that's not fair. And then I'd probably get myself a really good steak.

hat is your character's highest level of education?

I have a bachelor's in health science.

What things do they wish were different about their current profession?

I wish there was a little better support from administration sometimes. I wish equipment wasn't updated once in a century. My hospital isn't one wealthy or high enough on the radar to get trial equipment so we have to wait the years it takes for licenses, patents, and mass production to roll out things to us that could save lives today. It's frustrating to know there's knowledge and equipment out there that's reserved for the richest, the best in politics, and so forth.

...Is it too late to say don't get me started?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Who are his or her parents?

My dad is Caden and my mom is Angie. Hennessy.

Does he or she have any siblings?

Nope, they decided I was trouble enough. Kidding, I think they tried but it just didn't pan out before or after me.

A spouse or other romantic partner or love interest?

Not at the moment.

How about children?

The only person I figured I'd have children with left me so...no.

Other family? Aunts? Uncles? Second Cousins Twice Removed?

I have like 15 cousins. My parents both have a lot of siblings and a lot of them have kids who also have kids. Family reunions are kind of nutso.

How does your character feel about family functions and events?

Speaking of... lol They're okay, really. It's a lot of people but we usually rent out big parks or places where we can all exist without getting on too many nerves and there are ample hiding spots. The kids are cute and there's always good food and my parents always spoil me a bit hoping I don't get annoyed and stop showing up one year so that's nice too.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Who are your character's closest friends?

Mostly people I work with. I spend a lot of time with my squad so they really know me better than anyone else.

How did your character meet his or her best friend?

Work. I guess if I really had to pick someone I'm closest to on the squad it would be Jackson. I've known him since my first day on the squad, we started together.

What do they value most in friendship?

Fun, good naturedness. I like being able to relax, it's really important that I can just be myself around the people I hang out with.

Does your character make friends easily?

I guess. I don't get on people's shit list easily, I don't think.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

What was your character's first romantic encounter like?

Um embarrassing and in college? Also not totally sober? I went away for college so being away from home for the first time was an experience lol

How does your character display affection?

Uh...I like being close I guess? Like in proximity, I just like having people close and comfortable with me. I like holding hands and stuff. I dunno, just your generic stuff.

What is your character's idea of a perfect romantic date?

Something that makes us both really happy. Something meaningful. I like having a purpose when I go places, discovering things is so much more worthwhile with another person.

Has your character ever had his or her heart broken?

I mean, yeah.

What qualities does your character look for in a romantic partner?

The same stuff I look for in a good friend, I guess. I just want someone I can really be myself around. Someone that can make me smile and someone that I can make smile.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Does your character have any pets? What type?

Nope, I'm really not home enough to have a pet.

What are your characters favorite animals?

I like cats and dogs. I think it'd be kind of neat to have a ferret or a bearded dragon but I think I'd feel bad about keeping a bearded dragon in literally a tank all day.

How many times has your character visited the zoo?

I used to go a lot as a kid. My parents would bring me or I'd go with my cousins. Once for school, that was cool. I bought my parents a stuffed monkey from that trip and they still have it so I guess that's kind of important to me or whatever :')

_____________________________________________________________________________________

What are his or her favorite foods to eat?

I like a lot of things, food is literally my favorite. I like ramen and lamb and a lot of roasted greens. This is a hard question, I like a lot of things a lot.

Does he or she enjoy to cook?

Yeah. I get really ambitious and it isn't always excellent but I like to try.

Any food allergies or sensitivities?

No, thankfully.

What foods can he or she not stand to be around or eat?

My dad's family has a pallet for some things I don't love. Irish baked goods are just not that great and I don't get the hype about black and white pudding I'm soRRY I SAID IT YOU CAN KICK ME OUT NOW.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

How does your character spend a lazy Sunday afternoon?

Lazily lol I don't get up too late cause I know it'll throw off my routine but I like to make myself breakfast at my own pace and watch whatever I've been meaning to catch up on for days. Maybe make a trip to the grocery store and peruse the aisles at my own leisure. Come home and play some video games? If I'm gonna have a lazy day I'm gonna commit to total leisure.

What are their favorite places to go when alone?

With friends?

I like going to the park alone. Walks are nicer with a podcast to think about. I can be a part of society without actually bothering myself, it's basically perfect. If I'm with friends I like to get a drink or go play board games at someone's house, that's pretty neat.

Where would your character like to travel?

Anywhere! It would be great to take a break and just have the incentive to go somewhere and enjoy something new.

How does he or she want to get there?

Driving, flying? By boat. I don't care. I haven't found a mode of transport I've hated yet.

Does your character have preferences on types of lodging?

Not gonna lie, I'm not a roughing it kind of guy, I don't love fending for myself. I like somewhere with running water and internet at least. And no bugs. Don't like bugs.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

What are your characters favorite movies and TV shows?

I guess I like hour-long shows that I can really get invested in. Like Peaky Blinders and X-Files and stuff. I like getting immersed in the stuff I watch, which is a lot more TV than movies.

What are their favorite actors and actresses?

I like a lot of people. Peter Dinklage, Gillian Anderson, Sam Neill. A lot of people have a lot of talent. I have a fucking huge crush on Emma Thompson. That's embarrassing but she's literally so fun.

How often do they watch movies and/or television?

I usually watch TV to turn my brain off after a long day so often. Almost every evening? I usually watch something over dinner.

What genre of music would you find your character most likely listening to?

My iTunes is mostly rock, I guess.

When do they listen to music? In the car? While working?

When I'm working out. Or we play music in the ambulance sometimes when it's empty.

What artists and bands does your character enjoy listening to?

I like the Arctic Monkeys and The National and stuff like that. Stuff that I can really appreciate on noise-canceling headphones. If it can get me in my feelings I'm there.

ould your character go to a concert and enjoy it?

Yeah! I used to go to concerts a lot more often before but I do enjoy the experience if it's for the right band the right atmosphere.

Does your character play any musical instruments?

No. I used to play guitar when I was a kid but I lost interest ages ago.

What are his or her favorite books?

I don't read as much as I should...but I do like reading books of movies and TV shows after I watch them. When I can't get enough of the world it built it's nice to fill in the holes with the book.

What books are on his or her bookshelf at home?

A lot of my college reading material to make myself look smart to my dust bunny house guests. Plus all those movie and TV show books.

What titles does he or she borrow from the library?

I don't really go to the library. If I'm not sure enough about a book to order it online I usually don't get it at all.

What genre of books does your character enjoy reading?

Romance Fiction? Non-fiction? Thriller Crime Novels? Historical Fiction? Self-help? Poetry?

Historical fiction, post-apocalyptic, sci-fi, basically any kind of fiction really. I'm here for a good, gripping story.

What is your character's favorite quote and why?

“If not us, who? If not now, when?” ― John F. Kennedy

#c: Jacen Hennessy #cd #bio #about #like how else can i tag this to find it one day LMAO

0 notes

parniarazi · 5 years ago

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So...2020 has been interesting so far, right? Although I’ve been wanting to transition from sharing content on this blog to creating my own podcast/vlog in 2020, that’s something that I want to be put more time into thoughtfully creating since it’s new territory to me. Having this moment in time to breathe, spend some time at home, and really feel back into myself and my creative side has led me to wanting to still post on this platform. Just some patterns I’ve noticed lately, feelings the current state of the world has brought up, and lessons the universe has sent my way - maybe you’ll relate, take away something valuable, or at least have a little food for thought.

This year started off in a whirlwind with the tr*mp adminstration coming at my home country of Iran- for most people this is an old headline or moment in the news that is long past- but for Iranian Americans that’s a moment we haven’t forgotten. Being scared for the livelihood of our home country and family members who live there is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and seeing the following protests and both social/economic unrest just hurt my heart. The U.S. creates so much instability and pain in other countries and people here just forget about it and move on the next day, politics as usual. They don’t see the lives and people behind the headlines who are actually impacting by inflation and instability in their country - people who are just trying to feed their kids and live a normal life like the rest of us. These issues run deep, but this has weighed on my consciousness and stayed with me since then.

In February, I was reminded of the people who love me and are there for me on a daily basis. I had a lovely 4th year celebrating Valentines with my man, and my parents also showered me with love despite our distance now. I’m glad I’ve struck a good balance with my family - being close and seeing each other often but still having the necessary distance to grow up and make my own decisons wirhout their overbearing influence. I also got to visit my favorite city, spending some time in Austin again and see my favorite cousin/long distance bestie when she came to visit! School and work are overwhelming at times, but I’m more adjusted and handling my anxiety better. This semester seems near-impossible to handle with 2 internships, 2 graduate courses in a new field for me, and 1 job that I don’t particularly like. But it’s life and I gotta push through it!

Miraculously, things start to align after a pretty shitty mercury retrograde season in which I wrecked my car and dealt with a lot of financial stress. Time seems to be moving faster and I’m just trying to get through my days. I’m noticing this pattern of reconnecting with people from my past - from my old to best friend and neighbor from Kansas, to old internet friends and coworkers, there seems to a pattern of rekindling old connections and friendships. It’s really beautiful and I think a natural part of growing up, because it allows us to see what things change or don’t change over time, the poeple we’re still able to connect with, and who’s really meant to be in our life for the long run. It’s an odd feeling to connect with people from the past, but it makes me feel warm and nostalgic (and old, haha). I’m embracing it with a fully open heart, and I know the universe is sending people, old and new, into my life for a reason and it’s all part of my path.

Then this whole crazy cornavrius and public health pandemic start to get serious. Pavel and I are worried as it starts to rapidly spread and becomes the only topic the news is covering. Houston is a particularly dangerous spot, and we soon have to cancel some concerts we’ve had tickets to for months and our festival trip for our 4th year at Buku. I have asthma and Pavel has CF, so we are both at-risk for serious health complications if we come in contact with this virus since due to our pre-existing conditions.

At first, it’s just dealing with a lot of cancelled plans and upcoming trips - which end up being a blessing in disguise for those financial worries I mentioned. However, it becomes increasingly apparent that this public health pandemic is not affecting everyone equally. There are people who are losing their jobs because of the economic impact of this global issue, my dad even expresses concern over his job and company as the oil and chemical industry takes a hard hit. This breaks my heart because he’s been through a lay-off and recession before and it was hard on our family. He doesn’t deserve this stress or to have to go through that again. There are people much worse off though, people who work hourly and can’t make a living due to more and more businesses closing and events post-poning or cancelling.

The world is actually a mess - schools are cancelling, grocery stores are empty, and people are struggling to take care of their kids and find adequate healthcare if they are sick. Everything is political and how these situations are handled directly affects everyone, but of course those at the bottom take the hardest hits as always. I’m struggling to make sense of everything, as many others are too. To me, the weaknesses of our democracy are glaringly clear at a time like this, and being old enough to truly understand it from an economic standpoint too makes it even worse. Individualism is at its peak, as people hoard resources and allow panic and ignorance to take over. Lives are being entirely uprooted and changed, people are feeling serious and immediate effects of this scary time. Little to no support is offered to those most vulnerable - those with disabilities who can’t take care of themselves, elderly people, poor people without access to computers/internet or the money to bulk-buy food and necessities.

Yet people in this country are still afraid and think it’s too radical to elect a ‘socialist’ leader? The way other countries have taken care of people, provided food and resources, while middle-class Americans hoard toilet paper...I wish people had the capacity to understand what this reaction/situation is revealing about us. It says a lot about the disconnect between the American mentality and the actual reality of collective conciousness with the world/humanity.

There is a lot to be said and unpacked about this situation - politically, economically, and socially. But above all I can’t stop thinking about what the universe is telling us right now. Despite the luxuries we have and what life in this ‘first world’ country looks like - we are still human and susceptible to the same things that harm people on the other side of the world. We are not exceptional or special - we are just like anyone else, we are human, and anything that is a threat to humanity is a threat to us. Having modern luxuries doesn’t make us better than the rest of the world, it’s our humanity that connects us there is a larger ecosystem that governs us above any government that we need to respect. Disrespecting the earth, other countries, and other people will always come back to us.

With businesses being closed and global tourism coming to a halt, it’s fascinating to see the earth healing - from Italy’s waterways clearing up to America’s cities having clearer air than ever - capitalism truly proves to be the real epidemic to the earth. When the earth suffers and when we act like none of the pain and bad energy in the world will affect us, the universe reminds us we’re just human and we don’t have control over everything. In fact, we have less control over our lives than we even think if an invisible pathogen can uproot our entire everyday life. Lastly, we’re reminded of the importance of technology as something we’re seriously leaning into at a time like this. To keep us connected, keep us productive, and keep us informed, our technology is proving to more valuable than ever and it’s something that will grow as the peope socially distance but virtually come together.

The universe really needed to check us - for me this is such an important and necessary time for people to slow down, reflect, and think about what really matters. Our collective humanity. We have more in common than we do differences, and it’s literally impossible for one person or country to be better than another because we are all human and have the same fundamental needs of food, shelter, and healthcare. Any country that doesn’t provide those basic needs for their people can hardly be considered ‘first world.’ When billionaires retreat to their well-stocked and isolated homes, while the rest of us struggle to pay our bills and put food on the table - what does that say about us? Are we willing to accept and live in a world like this? Does any person really deserve healthcare more than another simply because of their economic status? To me, these things are what’s truly terrifying, not the virus itself but the scary truths it reveals about our society.

Personally, like I said I feel like I’m feeling these things on a deeper level now that I’ve moved out and am more aware of what it means to earn a living and the costs of life. I’m in an extremely privileged position, but I’m using that really consider how this affects different people and what it can teach me for the rest of my life.

1. Saving money is everything. You can work your entire life away and your company will lay you off no matter what you’ve done for them, and if you’re old and in need your government will say ‘sorry buddy good luck!’ Individualism kills, but that’s why getting your money right and having emergency savings is more important than anything else! This has taught me to prioritize having some seriously hefty savings before I book another trip or buy something I don’t actually need. My parents often tell me to not “spend like an American,” buying things I don’t need or simply want but don’t actually have the money for. I used to roll my eyes at this, but actually understanding the economic hardships they’ve lived through and the experiences that shape their views helps me realize the truth behind it. The American middle class is the biggest trap ever and can make you feel secure when you’re actually not unless you seriously save money and have it in multiple places. Capitalism perpeutes an endless cycle of desire and making you feel like you always need more, but when it all goes to shit, what will you have and be left with?

2. We need to slow down and tap into our collective conciousness more than ever. Maybe actually think about what other people are going through rather than centering yourself all the time. Other people exist and matter as much as you do, and your actions affect things and have a chain reaction. Not just right now, but always. Anything that affects another human being or harms someone else affects you, too because we’re all connected more than we realize. Energetically and literally! Humanity is an ecosystem, and when one part is hurting or damaged, it will eventually affect everything. The world is more connected than ever and we have to realize this, no matter how much media/politics tries to pit groups against each other and create divisions, we are all literally the same. And everyone deserves to live, no matter who they are and what resources they do or don’t have. We are all more interconnected and we need each other. People cannot continue acting selfishly and greedily the way they have been - our lives depend on the actions of other people and we need each other. We should really start acting like it.

3. The world literally cannot go on if we keep consuming and producing things the way we are. After this event, more poeple will work and go to school remotely, which is great because it results in less traffic, less pollution, and it’s better for many people with mental health issues or disabilities! But there are still serious considerations we have to make about what it means that the earth is finally getting a chance to breathe since we’re large businesses are shutting down. When it comes to travel, tourism, and economics, climate change is literally at the center of all of those issues. This is a manifestation of the earth having enough of our shit to be honest, and I wish more conversations were happening about that right now. The earth is a part of us and we are a part of it, and when it’s hurting that will catch up to us and hurt us back.

I suppose that’s all I have for now, but like I said there is so much to unpack but many useful conversations to be had around this current issue as we’re starting to see it’s effects on our world. I know that personally I’m at a huge privilege to be safe, healthy, have shelter and food, and be with someone I love right now. I hope by sharing this, I’ll spark some thoughts or simply have them to refer back to in the future when this is all behind us. The situation may pass eventually, but we shouldn’t forget what it’s desperately calling on us to shift our attention to. I’m honestly loving this extra down time, that we unfortunately don’t get enough, to simply be human and enjoy the company of our loved ones, sleeping in, having more time for our hobbies, or even doing nothing, as it’s necessary for humans to do sometimes! I hope this results in a shift in our collective conciousness that is desperately needed, but for me it’s affirming a lot of important things I already knew but needed to bring to the forefront of my mind. It’s easy to get overwhelmed right now and there’s a lot of change to adjust to, but the lessons the universe is sending us are invaluable right now and it’s imperative for people to think for themselves and think really critically about what’s happening, both for others and ourselves.

#words #personal #growth #coronavirus #humanity #conciousness #covid19 #2020 #self relfection

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fiinalgiirls · 5 years ago

Text

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - lourdes faustina campeon lopez nicknames - faust gender / pronouns - nonbinary. uses she/her and they/them date of birth - november 12, 1998 place of birth - b. san carlos apache reservation, raised in inglewood, california citizenship / ethnicity - american / chiricahua apache and puerto rican religion - atheist socioeconomic status / political affiliation - working class; radically liberal. marital status - single sexual & romantic orientation - pansexual education / occupation - high school, some college languages - spanish, english

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - jaime and maite campeon lopez siblings - francisco campeon lopez offspring - none pets / other - none notable extended family - none

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - sivan alyra rose hair color / eye color - brown, brown. height / build - 5′3″ / athletic tattoos / piercings - several tattoos, piercings to nose and ears, navel, and nipples distinguishable features - doe eyes, tattoos.

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - none. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - alcohol and marijuana. occasionally cocaine or molly.

PERSONALITY.

traits - engaging, resilient, analytical ; unrelenting, cynical, ruthless, mercurial tropes - tbd temperament - choleric alignment - chaotic neutral celtic tree zodiac - tba mbti - istp hogwarts house - slytherin vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - crop tops, late night parties, a good subwoofer, semi-automatic weapons / cruelty to women or animals, country music, paper cuts, church quote - “the first horror is there’s horror. the second is you accommodate it.”

FAVORITES.

food - chinese takeout, specifically bbq pork, egg rolls, and general tso’s drink - beer pizza topping - pepperoni and jalapenos color - baby blue music - hip hop / r&b, dance, synth, new wave books - not much of a reader, but they liked ‘weetzie bat’ when they were in middle school movies - people under the stairs and dope curse word - chingona scents - fresh laundry, pineapple car air freshener

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger/content warnings: homophobia, implied racism, sex trafficking, violence, death

▓ ▌now playing :: hypnotize – notorious b.i.g.

when lourdes is eight years old, she learns that all names have meanings. elated to have something that sets her apart from the ‘jessicas’ and ‘ashleys’ of her grade, the sting of being othered isn’t lost upon her. with a skip in her step, she hugs her books close to her chest and grins the whole way home. when they meet their mother, maite lopez in the yard, tending to her tomatoes, they ask her what her name means. it takes a great deal of elementary self control not to roll her eyes as she sees the reverence on her mother’s face when she speaks of la virgen maría. lourdes is disappointed to be named for a mother in a world where the mother is rarely elevated as holy. maite is framed with tomatoes–not roses or filigree-but she doesn’t let bad things happen; she gets shit done. lourdes thinks that maybe her mother is a better santa maría than some woman that occasionally appears in her dreams with a blue cloak made of stars. celestial beings are made of stars; they sit in the heavens looking beautiful while the world cries its wishes from below. celestial beings are like stars, because wishes don’t come true.

smart girls make their own dreams come true and lourdes is a smart girl. she’s good in her classes, enjoys music–lying on her back in her bunk bed that she shares with her sister and a younger cousin, she lets her body sink into the mattress. god, who doesn’t love a beat. lourdes is thirteen when their brother francisco joins the army and her memories of the san carlos reservation she was born on have almost completely faded. maite and jaime remember well. they provide well enough for their family, but each child has to earn their own way in the world; it costs just to exist in it. francisco figures he will be the first in the family to go to college. he doesn’t expect to be the only one.

in high school, lourdes spends all of their free time at concerts, clubs or with their ears engulfed by what jaime teases as mickey mouse headphones. they buy their first record player and ignore the mundane homework they’re sent home in lieu of hunting down records and mixing beats. maddisyn pratt, the simpering sycophantic girl lourdes likens to the blonde in the craft, begins to outshine the campeon lopez front runner for valedictorian and lourdes is too lost in a sea of daydreams, beats and hooks to care. the criteria for the princeton scholarship they had hung their future on falls out of reach and into the hands of a girl whose name means ‘son of maud’–it’s even worse than lourdes’ and they turns their nose up at it.

graduation day lacks its intended charms and a girl who’d lived her whole life being told she was destined for great things feels the weight of failure. jaime and maite bring red and yellow roses to the ceremony. they scream in the stands and bring noisemakers; they are a charming embarrassment. just the right level of ‘too much.’ for one day, no one talks to her about college or work or the future. they celebrate with tres leches and she falls asleep on the couch with a sweet taste humming on her tongue, headphones up full blast.

the daydream dies. college might not be an option, but lourdes is expected to pull her own weight. she floats from waitressing job to barista job to receptionist, but nothing really sticks. lourdes’ tapping feet are restless and they carry her from tedium to tedium. there is nothing that satiates her hunger. it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that college would not have served to fill the void either; the only thing that makes a difference is the music.

▓ ▌now playing :: atomic – blondie

noemi luna is a sweet uwla school of business co-ed with long dark hair and stars in her eyes. when lourdes meets her at the music festival, hair braided around roses, they realize that maybe this woman really could give birth to gods. the pair stay up talking and sharing songs until the sun comes up. lourdes believes in dreams again. noemi is stardust and iron. they make a pact with themself to memorize everything noemi loves: seafood, fruit smoothies, the soft feel of worn denim, sand between her toes, and the sensation of long nails combing through her soft, dark hair. lourdes loves exactly two things: sensation of nothingness they feels before slipping off to sleep to a dope track and noemi. it’s a much shorter list.

at noemi’s encouragement, lourdes reinvents herself; she is so much more than a drink slinger in some weak club where girls get in free to offset the gender binary and the skewed ratio found therein. lourdes mixes tracks; changes names. they were never worthy of such a title and they grin easily when noemi suggests ‘faust’ to her instead; lourdes is sick of being someone’s virgin and they are no one’s mother. maite loves to see the spark in their daughter’s heart again and doesn’t bat an eye at all the time the girls spend together. not until nearly two years later when faust’s reputation as dj placentagram keeps her out all night and she finds that her daughter and noemi seem to have a more and more difficult time keeping their hands off one another. maybe it’s just a phase; lourdes has always been such a good girl.

maite’s worst fears are confirmed when her daughter announces the seriousness of their relationship–the intent of marriage–on a warm, autumn thanksgiving afternoon before the pies are even sliced. they remain untouched for two days while faust packs their things with bleary eyes and clenched fists, making crimson crescents on her palms in the places where they’ve lost an acrylic nail. it took too much on faith to think that since their parents could accept her music that they could accept noemi too. jaime shrugs his shoulders after kissing his daughter goodbye with the weak defense of ‘... your mother.’ faust grimaces and spits back ‘a mí, plín.’

noemi and faust aren’t ready to get their own place, but fate forces their hands. with a bank account barely above the red, faust stores their stuff in her car and sleeps in noemi’s dorm room. the gaudy purchase of barely legal tinted windows proves more useful than frivolous. dj placentagram attracts a modest local audience and she makes enough, but the constant late nights and stress of a move take their toll. noemi loses her scholarship when her grades slip. her parents are supportive, but they don’t have the kind of cash to cover tuition. it’s time for her to find a job and since she has to wait until fall rolls around to repeat the semester, she’s got a lot of free time.

the job market is rough. noemi has no experience short of an ‘in progress’ underneath her education section. the entirety of her resume gushes with inexperience. the unemployment office is a crapshoot and most days are spent lounging in sweats, cruising craigslist for job offers. faust takes care of the bills in the meantime, but it’s nowhere near enough to save for tuition. they move out of the dorms with her salary, find a pretty good apartment too. one morning after a big event, faust finds a small, windblown cat by the trashcans. she is the color of smoke and soot; the couple name her belial, clean her up, and initiate her into the family. the apartment begins to feel like home.

▓ ▌now playing :: i’ve been thinking – handsome boy modeling school feat. cat power

faust beams at noemi over the somber reminder of her mother on the coffee table. it’s a cold, november day and the family pozole recipe steams up noemi’s glasses as she lists off her craigslist prospects for the day. she’s particularly excited about a position at a salon that boasts she’ll be making $400 a day after being trained. faust jokes that anything’s better than another fake modeling gig and noemi agrees. she sets up a meeting for later that week.

the details of the meeting are lost on faust. things that matter? noemi has a smile on her face when she comes back, flashing fresh pressies and the tentative explanation that the wages are tips only. she tacks on quickly that most of the girls say they pull in plenty to live off of with that. several of them are single moms and noemi swears that they were all wearing designer jeans, rocking fresh manicures, and boasted of the job seeming more like a family than anything else. in hindsight, faust can recall every red flag no matter how small. they should have known better. besides, they remember noemi reassuring them, it’s like super safe. she’d seen some guys working security in there and some of the girls even live in the condos above the place. maybe there’s a hint of willful desperation in her girlfriend’s voice; faust knows she’s tired of struggling and if it turns out a mess, it’s only until the semester starts back again in the fall.

the edges of the dream begin to chip, but are hardly noticeable at first. like noemi’s manicures, the woman gets good at filling in spaces. faust’s following becomes a bit more substantial. sometimes they make it out of inglewood to spin records. it takes her away from home more than she’d like, but she doesn’t notice the difference until they starts returning to an untouched bed, a hungry kitten, and a house that smells cold.

noemi is evasive, distant. the stars in her eyes have gone dim; there’s a fog that obscures them. an occasional cold night alone becomes a string, a constellation. on the surface, faust bubbles. they are wrath and it comes out in their music; people fell in love with them for the fire, but destruction turns those very people away. fear makes a hearty tinder. noemi doesn’t pick up her calls; noemi’s number gets disconnected. the fear grows, fertilized by volcanic ash. faust makes better fires.

▓ ▌now playing :: hail mary – 2pac

francisco is back from his tours and he’s strong and loved by her parents outloud ( unlike the infrequent texts of check-ins papa sends here, afraid of their mother’s wrath more than faust’s ). after faust goes the the address on the fridge and finds no trace of a salon, they arrive on his doorstep with a cat carrier in their hands and the request for a gun. soldiers always have guns and big brothers like francisco never learned to say no to a lip pout and a crocodile tear. faust still sees him as the boy who cried at the fox and the hound; he is the man who facilitates her deal with the devil. he teaches them the ins and outs of the sig sauer p226. he doesn’t ask them what they’re doing when he helps them file the serial number; he’s noted noemi’s absence.

heart in her throat, she’s almost choking to the beat of her own pulse. the sound of paper burning goes unnoticed, beneath the car stereo as she smokes to calm her nerves. i ain’t a killer, but don’t push me, she agrees, revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin’ pussy. her hands shake against the steering wheel as she drives the streets searching for noemi. she’d know her anywhere, but the shock of her appearance makes the track skip a beat ( or maybe it’s just her heart as she holds her breath ). she lets the engine purr to life and hangs back for a few blocks until she finds her girl’s destination and takes a mental note of the address. the patches on the leather vests are burned into her mind. she’ll be back several times before she makes her move; each time she’ll lose her dinner in the same parking lot on her way back to their apartment. each night she’ll fall asleep alone. at least for now, belial is better off with her brother.

after days of staking out the property, faust in convinced that noemi resides there permanently. for the first time in her life, faust prayed to the virgin mary. she prayed to the stars in the sky. she prayed to the devil. if nothing else, she hoped she could at least make it out with noemi alive. it’s easy to take out the first men. with her slinky slip dress, fishnet tights and combat boots, they think it’s a gag–she’s a new girl or something. women are commoditized; their agency is robbed of them. male hubris blinds them from the consideration that the beautiful woman might actually be serious. the realization burrs itself into their heads in the shape of a bullet. twice. after the first two, it’s easy. it’s like playing call of duty with francisco and she pushes the stark depravity of the easiness deep inside herself. if she is to save noemi, she has to let go of human decency. her mother’s voice tells her not to stoop to their level, but it’s precisely the level she needs to be a hero and faust doesn’t give a shit about being a hero. she gives a shit about getting her girlfriend back.

when she comes upon noemi, she is shocked by her appearance. the warm, shining girl is dull and timid. she lowers her guard and gun, speaking softly to traces of the woman she loved. distracted, faust is tackled by one of the girls who busts her nose with a mean right hook. something sparks within noemi and she clocks the girl over the head with faust’s estranged glock. the two depart on shaky legs to the car and drive to the beach where they watch the sun rise together; shoulders barely touching, feet buried beneath the sand. faust does not make a move to touch her despite her greater urges to wrap her arms so tightly around her that she’d leave impressions in her skin like those left behind by bras and tights and too-tight socks.

▓ ▌now playing :: you’re so cool – hans zimmer

reunited at least, noemi tells faust the truth about her dehumanizing work with delicate fingers shakily wrapped around a mug of hot tea. she flinches at the gentlest touch and faust knows their relationship will never be the same. noemi will never be the same. her nails are still pristine, but the hands they belong to are weathered; she has been through hell. whatever money she earned, it was not hers and it never reached her belly. they spend the next several months healing. maite makes them meals and sends them to the house with francisco and jaime connects with noemi’s parents to pay their bills . no one asks or prods. no one hovers or pushes or smothers–least of all faust, who stays up late nights with a gun in her hand, gaze hard on the locked apartment door. they don’t even see the murders on the news; neither girl knows what that means.

when noemi slowly begins to leave the apartment and build her confidence, faust is proud. it’s a slow process, but eventually she is able to function on most days. she goes to therapy, but never gets into specifics. she still screams in her sleep most nights, but she lets faust hold her close. dj placentagram returns to her work, but her following has taken a hit. still, it feels good to make her own money again.

▓ ▌now playing :: six inch – beyonce feat. the weekend

on one bright day, noemi tells her of running into an old friend–one of the girls who didn’t make it out that dark night. they are both unsurprised that the girls they’d left behind were still suffering. it makes her blood boil and she can see an old flicker in noemi’s eyes. faust recognizes it in her–the need for blood to fill old wounds–a baptism in vengeance. they make a new trip to francisco’s friend; they make a deal for more guns. noemi has her revenge with faust close at her side. the two of them earn a reputation for the second set of executions and they realize that there is a lot of trash worth taking out.

crime doesn’t pay; but vigilantism sure does. the girls make a mint turning over the more nefarious characters in the city. they don’t hit up small time dealers. blood runs down hill just like shit; they cut the heads of serpents and leave the scales alone. it starts to get dangerous for the girls; people know las sirenas. people prepare for these stunning shooters who rob the robbers. they’re no saints and they don’t play at sainthood. faust knows they are devils, but evil is stronger than neutrality and she never thought too much of moral fiber.

nobody asks the girls how they support themselves; both families know they’ve been through hell and back. things are broken inside and between them, but broken things still work if you can find a new function for them. families can still work–relationships can still work–if you turn them into something new. they are baptised in blood; their wishing stars are diamond studs in earlobes. some days they hold hands like the old days, but things are still broken–they are still new.

violence can change a person. noemi finds her vengeance, but faust can’t stop. what once bound them, now divides them, and noemi finds herself back in school. their lifestyles no longer compatible, the two grow apart, but there is no love lost. still, the time between reunions grows and grows until noemi has found love again and faust has given up turntables for contracts on heads.

#faust.#⛧ ━━━ VISAGE ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ CHARACTER STUDY ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ AESTHETIC ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ SOUNDTRACK ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ THREADS ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ CONNECTIONS ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ WANTED ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ RESOURCES ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.#⛧ ━━━ WARDROBE ჻ lourdes campeon lopez.

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fiinalgiirls-aa · 5 years ago

Text

tw homophobia, implied racism, sex trafficking, violence, death

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: HYPNOTIZE – NOTORIOUS B.I.G.

When Lourdes is eight years old, she learns that all names have meanings. Elated to have something that sets her apart from the ‘jessicas’ and ‘ashleys’ of her grade, the sting of being othered isn’t lost upon her. With a skip in her step, she hugs her books close to her chest and grins the whole way home. When when she meets her mother, Maite Ortiz Lopez in the yard, tending to her tomatoes, she asks her what her name means. It takes a great deal of elementary self control not to roll her eyes as she sees the reverence on her mother’s face when she speaks of la Virgen María. Lourdes is disappointed to be related to a mother in a world where the mother is rarely elevated as holy. Maite is framed with tomatoes–not roses or filigree-but she doesn’t let bad things happen; she gets shit done. Lourdes thinks that maybe her mother is a better Santa María than some woman that occasionally appears in her dreams with a blue cloak made of stars. Celestial beings are made of stars; they sit in the heavens looking beautiful while the world cries its wishes from below. Celestial beings are like stars, because wishes don’t come true.

Smart girls make their own dreams come true and Lourdes is a smart girl. She’s good in her classes, enjoys music–lying on her back in her bunk bed that she shares with her sister and a younger cousin, she lets her body sink into the mattress. God, who doesn’t love a beat. Lourdes is thirteen when her brother Pancho joins the army. Maite and Jaime provide well enough for their family, but each child has to earn their own way in the world; it costs just to exist in it. Pancho figures he will be the first in the family to go to college. He doesn’t expect to be the only one.

In high school, Lourdes spends all of her free time at concerts, clubs or with her ears engulfed by what Jaime teases as mickey mouse headphones. She buys her first record player and ignores the mundane homework she’s sent home in lieu of hunting down records and mixing beats. Maddisyn Pratt, the simpering sycophantic girl Lourdes likens to the blonde in The Craft, begins to outshine the Campeon Lopez front runner for valedictorian and Lourdes is too lost in a sea of daydreams, beats and hooks to care. The criteria for the Princeton scholarship she had hung her future on falls out of reach and into the hands of a girl whose name means ‘son of maud’–it’s even worse than Lourdes’ and she turns her nose up at it.

Graduation day lacks its intended charms and a girl who’d lived her whole life being told she was destined for great things feels the weight of failure. Jaime and Maite bring red and yellow roses to the ceremony. They scream in the stands and bring noisemakers; they are a charming embarrassment. Just the right level of ‘too much.’ For one day, no one talks to her about college or work or the future. They celebrate with tres leches and she falls asleep on the couch with a sweet taste humming on her tongue, headphones up full blast.

The daydream dies. College might not be an option, but Lourdes is expected to pull her own weight. She floats from waitressing job to barista job to receptionist, but nothing really sticks. Lourdes’ tapping feet are restless and they carry her from tedium to tedium. There is nothing that satiates her hunger. It doesn’t take long for her to figure out that college would not have served to fill the void either; the only thing that makes a difference is the music.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: ATOMIC – BLONDIE

Noemi Luna is a sweet UWLA school of business co-ed with long dark hair and stars in her eyes. When Lourdes meets her at the music festival, hair braided around roses, she realizes that maybe this woman really could give birth to gods. They stay up talking and sharing songs until the sun comes up. Lourdes believes in dreams again. Noemi is stardust and iron. She makes a pact with herself to memorize everything Noemi loves: seafood, fruit smoothies, the soft feel of worn denim, sand between her toes, and the sensation of long nails combing through her soft, dark hair. Lourdes loves exactly two things: sensation of nothingness she feels before slipping off to sleep to a dope track and Noemi. It’s a much shorter list.

At Noemi’s encouragement, Lourdes reinvents herself; she is so much more than a drink slinger in some weak club where girls get in free to offset the gender binary and the skewed ratio found therein. Lourdes mixes tracks; changes names. She was never worthy of such a title and she grins easily when Noemi suggests ‘Faust’ to her instead; Lourdes is sick of being someone’s virgin and she is no one’s mother. Maite loves to see the spark in her daughter’s heart again and doesn’t bat an eye at all the time the girls spend together. Not until nearly two years later when Faust’s reputation as DJ Placentagram keeps her out all night and she finds that her daughter and Noemi seem to have a more and more difficult time keeping their hands off one another. Maybe it’s just a phase; Lourdes has always been such a good girl.

Maite’s worst fears are confirmed when her daughter announces the seriousness of their relationship–the intent of marriage–on a warm, autumn Thanksgiving afternoon before the pies are even sliced. They remain untouched for two days while Faust packs her things with bleary eyes and clenched fists, making crimson crescents on her palms in the places where she’s lost an acrylic nail. It took too much on faith to think that since her parents could accept her music that they could accept Noemi too. Jaime shrugs his shoulders after kissing his daughter goodbye with the weak defense of ‘your mother.’ Faust grimaces and spits back ‘no mames.’

Noemi and Faust aren’t ready to get their own place, but fate forces their hands. With a bank account barely above the red, Faust stores her stuff in her car and sleeps in Noemi’s dorm room. The gaudy purchase of barely legal tinted windows proves more useful than frivolous. DJ Placentagram attracts a modest local audience and she makes enough, but the constant late nights and stress of a move take their toll. Noemi loses her scholarship when her grades slip. Her parents are supportive, but they don’t have the kind of cash to cover tuition. It’s time for her to find a job and since she has to wait until fall rolls around to repeat the semester, she’s got a lot of free time.

The job market is rough. Noemi has no experience short of an ‘in progress’ underneath her education section. The entirety of her resume gushes with inexperience. The unemployment office is a crapshoot and most days are spent lounging in sweats, cruising craigslist for job offers. Faust takes care of the bills in the meantime, but it’s nowhere near enough to save for tuition. They move out of the dorms with her salary, find a pretty good apartment too. One morning after a big event, Faust finds a small, windblown cat by the trashcans. She is the color of smoke and soot; the girls name her Belial, clean her up, and initiate her into the family. The apartment begins to feel like home.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: I’VE BEEN THINKING – HANDSOME BOY MODELING SCHOOL FEAT. CAT POWER

Faust beams at Noemi over the somber reminder of her mother on the coffee table. It’s a cold, November day and the family pozole recipe steams up Noemi’s glasses as she lists off her craigslist prospects for the day. She’s particularly excited about a position at a salon that boasts she’ll be making $400 a day after being trained. Faust jokes that anything’s better than another fake modeling gig and Noemi agrees. She sets up a meeting for later that week.

The details of the meeting are lost on Faust. Things that matter? Noemi has a smile on her face when she comes back, flashing fresh pressies and the tentative explanation that the wages are tips only. She tacks on quickly that most of the girls say they pull in plenty to live off of with that. Several of them are single moms and Noemi swears that they were all wearing designer jeans, rocking fresh manicures, and boasted of the job seeming more like a family than anything else. In hindsight, Faust can recall every red flag no matter how small.Besides, she remembers Noemi reassuring her, it’s like super safe. She’d seen some guys working security in there and some of the girls even live in the condos above the place. Maybe there’s a hint of willful desperation in her girlfriend’s voice; Faust knows she’s tired of struggling and if it turns out a mess, it’s only until the semester starts back again in the fall.

The edges of the dream begin to chip, but are hardly noticeable at first. Like Noemi’s manicures, the woman gets good at filling in spaces. Faust’s following becomes a bit more substantial. Sometimes she makes it out of Inglewood to spin records. It takes her away from home more than she’d like, but she doesn’t notice the difference until she starts returning to an untouched bed, a hungry kitten, and a house that smells cold.

Noemi is evasive, distant. The stars in her eyes have gone dim; there’s a fog that obscures them. An occasional cold night alone becomes a string, a constellation. On the surface, Faust bubbles. She is wrath and it comes out in her music; people fell in love with her for the fire, but destruction turns them away. Fear makes a hearty tinder. Noemi doesn’t pick up her calls; Noemi’s number gets disconnected. The fear grows, fertilized by volcanic ash. Faust makes better fires.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: HAIL MARY – 2PAC

Pancho is back from his tours and he’s strong and loved by her parents outloud ( unlike the infrequent texts of check-ins papa sends here, afraid of her mother’s wrath more than hers ). After she goes the the address on the fridge and finds no trace of a salon, she arrives on his doorstep with a cat carrier in her hands and the request for a gun. Soldiers always have guns and big brothers like Pancho never learned to say no to a lip pout and a crocodile tear. Faust still sees him as the boy who cried at the Fox and the Hound; he is the man who facilitates her deal with the devil. He teaches her the ins and outs of the Sig Sauer P226. He doesn’t ask her what she’s doing when he helps her file the serial number; he’s noted Noemi’s absence.

Heart in her throat, she’s almost choking to the beat of her own pulse. The sound of paper burning goes unnoticed, beneath the car stereo as she smokes to calm her nerves. I AIN’T A KILLER, BUT DON’T PUSH ME, she agrees, REVENGE IS LIKE THE SWEETEST JOY NEXT TO GETTIN’ PUSSY. Her hands shake against the steering wheel as she drives the streets searching for Noemi. She’d know her anywhere, but the shock of her appearance makes the track skip a beat ( or maybe it’s just her heart as she holds her breath ). She lets the engine purr to life and hangs back for a few blocks until she finds her girl’s destination and takes a mental note of the address. The patches on the leather vests are burned into her mind. She’ll be back several times before she makes her move; each time she’ll lose her dinner in the same parking lot on her way back to their apartment. Each night she’ll fall asleep alone. At least for now, Belial is better off with her brother.

After days of staking out the property, Faust in convinced that Noemi resides there permanently. For the first time in her life, Faust prayed to the Virgin Mary. She prayed to the stars in the sky. She prayed to the devil. If nothing else, she hoped she could at least make it out with Noemi alive. It’s easy to take out the first men. With her slinky slip dress, fishnet tights and combat boots, they think it’s a gag–she’s a new girl or something. Women are commoditized; their agency is robbed of them. Male hubris blinds them from the consideration that the beautiful woman might actually be serious. The realization burrs itself into their heads in the shape of a bullet. Twice. After the first two, it’s easy. It’s like playing call of duty with Pancho and she pushes the stark depravity of the easiness deep inside herself. If she is to save Noemi, she has to let go of human decency. Her mother’s voice tells her not to stoop to their level, but it’s precisely the level she needs to be a hero and Faust doesn’t give a shit about being a hero. She gives a shit about getting her girlfriend back.

When she comes upon Noemi, she is shocked by her appearance. The warm, shining girl is dull and timid. She lowers her guard and gun, speaking softly to traces of the woman she loved. Distracted, Faust is tackled by one of the girls who busts her nose with a mean right hook. Something sparks within Noemi and she clocks the girl over the head with Faust’s estranged glock. The two depart on shaky legs to the car and drive to the beach where they watch the sun rise together; shoulders barely touching, feet buried beneath the sand. Faust does not make a move to touch her despite her greater urges to wrap her arms so tightly around her that she’d leave impressions in her skin like those left behind by bras and tights and too-tight socks.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: YOU’RE SO COOL – HANS ZIMMER

Reunited at least, Noemi tells Faust the truth about her dehumanizing work with delicate fingers shakily wrapped around a mug of hot tea. She flinches at the gentlest touch and Faust knows their relationship will never be the same. Noemi will never be the same. Her nails are still pristine, but the hands they belong to are weathered; she has been through hell. Whatever money she earned, it was not hers and it never reached her belly. They spend the next several months healing. Maite makes them meals and sends them to the house with Pancho and Jaime connects with Noemi’s parents to pay their bills . No one asks or prods. No one hovers or pushes or smothers–least of all Faust, who stays up late nights with a gun in her hand, gaze hard on the locked apartment door. They don’t even see the murders on the news; neither girl knows what that means.

When Noemi slowly begins to leave the apartment and build her confidence, Faust is proud. It’s a slow process, but eventually she is able to function on most days. She goes to therapy, but never gets into specifics. She still screams in her sleep most nights, but she lets Faust hold her close. DJ Placentagram returns to her work, but her following has taken a hit. Still, it feels good to make her own money again.

▓ ▌NOW PLAYING :: SIX INCH – BEYONCE FEAT. THE WEEKEND

On one bright day, Noemi tells her of running into an old friend–one of the girls who didn’t make it out that dark night. They are both unsurprised that the girls they’d left behind were still suffering. It makes her blood boil and she can see an old flicker in Noemi’s eyes. Faust recognizes it in her–the need for blood to fill old wounds–a baptism in vengeance. They make a new trip to Pancho’s friend; they make a deal for more guns. Noemi has her revenge with Faust close at her side. The two of them earn a reputation for the second set of executions and they realize that there is a lot of trash worth taking out.

Crime doesn’t pay; but vigilantism sure does. The girls make a mint turning over the more nefarious characters in the city. They don’t hit up small time dealers. Blood runs down hill just like shit; they cut the heads of serpents and leave the scales alone. It starts to get dangerous for the girls; people know las sirenas. People prepare for these stunning shooters who rob the robbers. They’re no saints and they don’t play at sainthood. Faust knows they are devils, but evil is stronger than neutrality and she never thought too much of moral fiber.

Nobody asks the girls how they support themselves; both families know they’ve been through hell and back. Things are broken inside and between them, but broken things still work if you can find a new function for them. Families can still work–relationships can still work–if you turn them into something new. They are baptised in blood; their wishing stars are diamond studs in earlobes. Some days they hold hands like the old days, but things are still broken–they are still new.

Violence can change a person. Noemi finds her vengeance, but Faust can’t stop. What once bound them, now divides them, and Noemi finds herself back in school. Their lifestyles no longer compatible, the two grow apart, but there is no love lost. Still, the time between reunions grows and grows until Noemi has found love again and Faust has given up turntables for contracts on heads.

#faust bio #trigger warnings at top of bio

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