#I inherited him from somewhere in my grandmas house as a kid

[nerdomancer]

wait

hold on

HOLD THE FUCK ON

MR. SNUFFLES???

[forabeatofadrum]

@cerriddwenluna replied to your post “got some news from home which my mind immediately...”:

Mostly dead or all dead?

​OKAY SO, y'all know my grandma died around a year ago. My grandma was a hoarder (affectionate). During her life, she collected glass perfume bottles. Now she's gone, and the family is left with thousands of perfume bottles. Thousands. I am not kidding. A lot of (wat de fuck is "nabestaanden" in het Engels?) nabestaanden have gotten some as a memory of her. I have four on my windowsill. We've sold some, cause throwing them away feels kind of wrong. As in, yeah, gran dead, let's kick out her life's work! So we sold some, because we'd rather make other collectors who can appreciate it happy. But, as my family has noticed after a year, daar is geen beginnen aan. Basically, throwing them away is really the easiest, but again, that feels bad. We have no use for them, but it really was her life's work, some of her most prized possessions.

(I have a fic-related point. Bear with me.)

Today I got the news that apparently a castle wants the perfume bottles. I do not know the details, so I don't know if my family is selling or donating, or if the castle wants all of them, or only a couple of hundred, but basically a castle wants them for a museum. They will display her name and present it in an exhibition and I may or may not have almost cried. The idea of having a woman's life work portrayed like that. She is dead, gone, deceased, and yet her work lives on. It is so insignificant on a large scale, yet still significant in its own way. Ever since my uncle died in 2020 and my grandma died in 2022 I have been thinking about legacy and what not, and how we have all these things, but how in a couple of years times, personal belongings of deceased people will be of value because they teach something about ordinary life. For example, I also inherited a book from my grandma. It was written in, I think, the 1860s and it is a dissertation on the first constitution of the Netherlands and I don't give a shit about law, but the fact that this man's dissertation ended up in my grandma's house and that I was able to find him online (geboorteakte, overlijdingsakte, you know) is spectacular. And that I was moved. That I was sad to see he died relatively young. And you may have heard that there's a exhibition on class photo's somewhere. I saw it on het Jeugdjournaal. You know, that kind of stuff? That really moves me. That I can go to an exhibition that displays stranger's belongings and that I can be moved by the thought that they were there, and that they mattered, and the fact that it's happening to my grandma... oh BOy.

And because I am me, and because I still use Klaine fanfiction as the way to express myself (I mean, I didn't write River fic for nothing), I came up with a fic idea of Kurt anno 2023 going to a fashion exhibition and there he finds a massive, massive bow tie collection from the (recently?) deceased B.D. Anderson and he is so moved in the way that I am moved that he is compelled to find out more about this B.D. Anderson. As in, the fic will express what I feel now, and how legacy is being held up, or how useless things can become meaningful as time passes. Basically how Kurt learns about Blaine's life. It starts by thinking: "Damn, who is this B.D. Anderson who collected a shit ton of bowties during his long life?" and how he becomes invested in this story, the same way I can get invested in learning about ordinary people who have died, in the same way someone might get invested in my grandma's life.

But, uh, yeah, Blaine is dead, totally fucking dead-dead, in this idea and if he weren't, then he'd still be way too fucking old for Kurt. Maybe this is going nowhere. Maybe I will find a way. Who knows. But that's what was on my mind.

[stahl-tier]

My coworkers continue to be the wildest bunch in terms of "origin stories". You'd think it would be absolutely unlikely to meet such a high density of absolute Characters but that's just life at the railway, I guess?

Like at this point I don't even bat an eye anymore when during the obligatory "so what did you do before the railway?" exchange the answer ends up being something along the lines of "oh I dealt hard drugs to everyone in my home village of 700 people until I got into so much trouble I had to leave the state and start a new life", or stuff like "well I'm the heir to my family that makes up half of the population of a village in (country you never heard of) and they sent me to raise funds so we can buy out the other half that belongs to our rival family".

But today I learned a brand new fact about my coworker who used to work as a gravedigger until a couple months ago. As if that wasn't extravagant enough already, he casually mentioned to me today that he is very mentally exhausted from yesterday's family birthday party still, cause he met so many relatives he doesn't even know again. And I replied just as casually, "oh yeah, it's always so awkward when relatives remember me from when I was a kid but I don't even remember them anymore!"

But he goes "nah that's not it, but ever since it turned out a couple months ago that I'm actually one of the last two living descendants of a local royal house, the family gatherings for birthdays and such have become extremely exhausting. I don't even know any of these people and they're kinda snobbish, too."

I had to ask about that more of course... He made a comment the other day when I asked about his last name (to help him access a schedule on the pc) and when he said it I told him "oh, like the town? What a coincidence!" But he said "that's because the town was named after my royal ancestors :)" which I didn't even think about further. I THOUGHT HE WAS JOKING OKAY?

So he tells me that he never knew much about his family. He knew that he was "a bastard" born as the illegitimate second child of his dad, but said dad died long ago and his mom never talked about anything regarding that, and the only grandma (his dad's mom) he knew of he only met a few times when he was still little. He said he thought she just lived in a random small apartment somewhere in a different town. Well, she died a couple months back and apparently put him into her will. So he got a letter from a notary firm that informed him about his inheritance and that letter was where he also learned of his royal descent and that his grandma didn't just live in that apartment, she actually owned the entire building complex, and that the other half of his family that he never met is super wealthy with top careers etc etc.

I was so baffled, I said "jeez, if that happened to me I would think it's spam or some sort of scam." He said that was his first thought too, cause that's just way too crazy, right? But since the letter was from a legit notary, he responded and it was all real.

Literally I always felt like my life was so crazy and all over the place, but compared to the majority of the railboys I work with daily it seems incredibly tame.

[littledewdrops2]

Okaaaaayyy

It really makes me sad when people read about a placement and just hole themselves in that box. Astrology is a reflection, when you think about how the way you are raised effects how you perceive things as an adult, it makes sense if you view your natal chart as a book of your life. I have a lot of trauma, and I'll be honest and say my kids have some inherited placements that I look at and panic at sometimes. You are not doomed to repeat the patterns though, a lot of the placements I see with my kids are karmic and they have generational trauma shown in their charts. For instance they have pluto/moon aspects like me and my mom and my sisters. However, their placement isn't as tight of an orb as us. I view this as improvement that could be built upon if they chose to have children too. My daughter has mercury in 12th, I make sure to listen to her EVERY TIME her soft spoken self talks. I stop other people and give her my full attention. My son has his sun in 8th, I make sure he has space to be alone and process, we talk a lot about healthy expression, and his father all the time. You can do these things for yourself too, make yourself a priority, commit to doing things better because you deserve that. I have a cancer mars and my drive has been something I struggle with and burning myself out while I try and care for others (also my moon in taurus in 12th), I love caring for others but self care is hard. I write, I ask for breaks and take time to process, I go to therapy, shoot I even have a boundary to shower every day. I do what I need to express my anger and sadness in a healthy manner.

Also I wish that more people, when they ask questions about their placements, would use that to examine their life a bit more. You know yourself and your life best. For example I'm a sag sun, in 7th, taurus moon in 12th, mercury conj pluto in 6th. The two people that effected me in the best way were my grandparents. My grandma was a Libra sun and a pisces moon. My grandpa was a Sag sun and a virgo moon. It's no coincidence that my planets fall there because growing up I wanted to emulate the people that treated me best. My grandpa always told me, "if it is meant to be, it is up to me", my scorpio mercury and it's conjunction to pluto in the 6th, is a direct reflection of how seriously I took what he said. My chart ruler is my mercury actually, I have held on to that advice and been determined to turn my life around. (Also my mom and dad have no pisces personal placements and no libra, no virgo)

My grandpa valued having a good time and having adventures. He wanted to provide for his family and be a pillar. Then I grew up wanting a partner who was loyal and fun and kind and makes me smile, one I could build with. I think that's pretty reflective of my venus in capricorn (leo degree), in 9th.

Your parents come with their own ideas, values and unique experiences. Their words to you become your inner voice. Always keep in mind that we didn't birth ourselves. We learned these things somewhere. A bit of reflection helps a lot, what did your parents value/did you get along and want to emulate that/do you have easy aspects or hard aspects/who else influenced you/in what ways/can you see the reflection in that? Before stressing out over someone's comment on your placements, R E F L E C T. My kids would hate me if my chart really determined how my life was going to go (because of all the stressful aspects) but hey here I am doing the work I need to do and my relationship with my children is extremely fulfilling and loving and I see the connection in the things I value and how I parent and my kids charts and what they may have taken from me.

Last long winded example lollll, I deeeeeply value being open minded and non-judgemental, education is important to me and activism is too. My son has a stellium in the 9th house with his moon there. As if his mom isn't a sag sun with venus in 9th lolol. My daughter has sun and venus in 11th. Both my kids are libra rising and my daughter is a libra moon in 1st. I already hear them talking about "doing the right thing", justice and helping people sooo much.

I'm wholly planning on teaching my kids that they have the power to transform their life. On one hand, I know sun in the 8th can be very hard and on the other I believe that that placement can be super beneficial if I can help him tap into the positive energy. My daughter has pluto in 4th. I can't do anything about what they've already experienced except to help teach them that they do have the power to break these cycles. (I don't remember who's blog but I read someone say that pluto in 4th can mean that your mom emphasized being able to transform your life, which would be spot on for us.)

You don't have trouble in love because you have chiron in the 7th. You have trouble because your examples of relationships might not have been the best or you struggle to put yourself above your partner because maybe you don't feel good about yourself etc. Chiron in 7th is reflective of the struggle, it's not the reason for the struggle.

Long af, just to say never give up on yourself and it will be okay. 💞💖✨ You certainly aren't doomed. Also envy is a sign that you have an unmet need so maybe if you are feeling envious over a placement, be nice to yourself and give yourself a little extra self love.

[tortilla-of-courage]

Describing it as being like home is actually pretty accurate yeah.

And YES! I am totally willing to talk about my modern AU.

I've been calling it the Adoption AU because Time ends up adopting all of the boys. It mostly started as, I saw an edit for a tweet someone did with Wars and Wild that involved Taco Bell (cannot remember the blog or post for the life of me though), and so I wrote a thing about Warriors sneaking out of his university dorm to pick up Wild, who snuck out the window despite his broken arm, and then got extorted by Legend in exchange for silence at 3am.

This was followed by a fic where Groose decided spray painting a public building was a good idea and got himself and Sky arrested, set earlier in the timeline.

So then I made a timeline. Twilight is Time and Malon's biological son, and he found Wild on the side of the road one day (Wild's backstory involves a bad car wreck and an underground hospital, but no conspiracy bullshit. Yet). Wild has no memory, so they keep him. Wild brings home Legend, who was told his uncle died at school before a holiday. They then also keep Legend. Malon finds Four in her barn one morning for complicated reasons, and they keep him too. Twilight finds Warriors, who is in his class, hiding in an alley one day after he ran away from an abusive home and brings him home too. SS Impa (who I've nicknamed Shield because there are enough prominent Impas here that they should get nicknames too) is a social worker who's trying to find Sky a home and has run out of options, and turns to Time, who has a record of successfully housing 'unhousable' youths, and asks if he can take one more. He can. Wild finds Hyrule and brings him home because 'Rule needs a shower even more than Wild does. Hyrule stays. Wind's grandma ends up with Wind and his sister but can't financially take care of both and so Wind ends up with the boys and everyone is +1 Grandma.

Twilight has a fic detailing how he knows Midna and Dusk and I ended up shooting him (oops) but at least their social project gets handed in on time.

Then I started hashing out Time's backstory and suddenly this AU had plot. And organized crime. And a conspiracy. And secret societies.

The summarized version is that the gems from OoT are like, Idk what they do yet. Haven't gotten to a point where I need to figure that out yet. But they are Important and have to be carefully guarded. The Great Deku Tree (just called Deku because he's not a tree here) was Time's foster father before Ganondorf killed him. Also, Ganondorf is Deku's half brother. Because. However Time 'stole' the Emerald and he and Navi ran until OoT Impa (Sage) and Lullaby found them. So Time got adopted into Lullaby's family. Ruto inherited the Sapphire from her mother who also died from mysterious circumstances, and Darunia has the Ruby. Lullaby got the Ocarina from her late paternal grandmother.

Then Ganon finds them and tries to steal the Emerald from Time, so Lullaby goes looking for help and thus finds the sages. Saria is an anonymous hacker who uses the screen name 'Kokiri'. Time reveals he didn't steal the Emerald, he was Deku's heir, and then Navi goes missing. Time is home worried enough that he's physically sick, and Ganon decides to try and attack the home. Only Lullaby's family is Olde Money, and they live in a big, old manor, so Lullaby as Sheik decides to play 'Home Alone' with the secret passages in the walls and they piss off Ganon because when did that brat get a sheikah bodyguard??? Sage and Rottla (Lullaby's mother, who is fully sheikah as well) rush home from a thing and Kokiri is running a play by play watching the security cameras.

I pull in my headcanon that Time was killed in the Downfall Timeline by getting impaled on Ganon's tusk and Ganondorf stabs him with the tusk of a mounted boar head and then Sheik shows up to protect his brother, and then Mama gets home and is not happy to find this man in her home attacking her kids. Time is fine, but Navi stays missing. (She's alive tho.)

Also, Time's foster dad was the last leader of a secret society known as The Order of The Lost Woods, and Time learns this upon meeting Tatl, who gets him sucked into another event that would probably make a good action movie. I have thought too much about the Order and it's hierarchy, but what's important here is that Time ends up with a standing job offer and Tatl and he remain friends and we find out how I fit FD into this AU. It's not pretty. This is where Time loses his eye too.

The AoC came out and I added that Link in as Wild's twin brother and he shows up during the main plot.

Which starts with Twi getting kidnapped. (I'm not really meaner to him than the others, I swear, he's just the most logical choice to be Time's heir. Which he is. He doesn't know this though.)

So he's kidnapped by Ganondorf, who broke out of jail, Zant, who shot Twi in highschool, and Ghirahim, who has some history with Sky I haven't fleshed out yet and a very public rivalry with Warriors over twitter. About six weeks later Sage finds him in an abandoned warehouse (because of course) with a shackle on his left arm and a lot of new injuries. He ends up fine, but he tells Time later in the hospital what happened and he's both message and messenger and Time is this close to just committing murder. Tatl talks him down.

Somewhere here is the half finished fic where I introduce AoC Link as Luke/Knight, and this is as far as I've plotted thus far.

Other tidbits: Wild and Lullaby/Sheik are both genderfluid, Lullaby/Sheik married Ruto, Wild has a very popular YouTube channel, Twi does drag racing sometimes, Sky has a pet bird, Four has DID to explain how the Colours are here too, and Wolfie exists in the form of a random wolf-dog Wild found and brought home that Legend somehow convinced half the family was Twilight. Also, Warriors has somehow befriended an entire sorority and he doesn't know how this happened.

This... got long. As you can see I have a lot of thoughts about the Adoption AU. It's gotten a bit away from me, I'll admit. This went from 'Wild does stunts on his motorbike and keeps breaking bones but somehow not the bike' to 'Twilight got kidnapped and Time is the target of a mafia that Ganon runs and also maybe killed a man once' and I don't know how that happened. Also, this is the condensed version of the summary. My actual summary/outline is much, much longer than this. So if there's any detail you want more on, feel free to say so and I'll happily go into more detail (there are so many things I didn't even mention....)

And yes, Robbie having a bong is very important to my best friend, for some reason. He has one in a modern AU and he probably invented one in canon. I happen to agree that this makes sense for his character, if anyone would invent a bong in LoZ it's Robbie (this is such an anticlimactic end to this ask after the stuff about the modern AU...)

Also, sorry for the long ass ask. I genuinely don't know how to condense the Adoption Au down any further. There's a lot of important plot beats to cover, and I still skipped things.

-Attllhak

oh my GOD???? if you ever write and post this somewhere id love to read it, the level of "crazy" conspiracy/action movie elements implemented sound sosososo cool, from Ganondorf being Deku's half brother to trying to "send a message" via Twi and- just- all of this is SO good.i sat here and reread this ask like 3 times as if that would magically spawn more info about it ahaha

there's so much to unpack here but it's honestly so worth it i love every single detail!!! i can imagine the actual outline being way longer, nad honestly that just makes me the more excited/curious about all that might be missing from this ask - i cant believe it started with Wild and Wars going to Taco Bell of all things

also i can totally see Robbie making a bong, no matter the setting or AU. fits him a lot I'd say

and dont worry about long asks!! i adore opening up my askbox to see one ask take over the entire thing, it makes me really happy aha

[leia-imogen]

aaron & the family he's found all by himself; vol. 2 // vol. 1

( ft. short jokes, a belated birthday shopping trip, & an ultra-chaotic winter break )

( for @criswisstuff & anyone who enjoyed the first one <3 )

savannah, who is 5'9, is constantly teasing aaron and cleo for being short. katelyn's good at 5'6, and also a bit impossible to tease bcs she's the actual best, so she gets to escape this

cleo ( 5'2 ) is perfectly delighted to have someone shorter than her for once in her life, even by only 2 inches

aaron: guys, just try and see this from my point of view

sav: [ collapses ]

katelyn: [ crouches down ]

cleo: [ sits cross-legged on floor ]

aaron: dude you're literally 2 inches taller than me

cleo: 2 and a quarter

sav is so smug about this but in a good-natured way, in that she and cleo call aaron "kid" or "kiddo" or "pipsqueak" and he doesn't mind bcs they always say it w such a huge smile and he likes to respond to sav with "how's the weather up there, tall-ass?"

and katelyn thinks it's ridiculously adorable how tiny aaron is and obviously she uses him as an armrest all the time

katelyn, petting aaron's hair: guys guys omg he's like an angsty mini blond kitten and i would kill for him <3

sav, popping up between them: mini-yard :))

before i get super distracted, i just wanna mention that aaron met sav and cleo towards the end of november, so they missed the twin's birthday

but sav still insists that she must take him shopping bcs sure his fashion sense is fine but there's always room for improvement, isn't there, aaron??

he relents, so long as she and cleo and katelyn ( who already gave him a birthday present?? why's she doing this??? ) don't spend too much money

sav drags him all around south carolina to the best thrift stores she can find and cleo and katelyn are amazed that she can get such fantastic deals on the supermodel clothes she wears

fr she's literally a fashion design major ( + minoring in business management ) and she shows up to class in skilfully done drugstore makeup and an absolutely killer outfit for like 15 bucks

she grew up poor, and she's still poor now, even if she ( thankfully ) managed to scrape a cheerleading scholarship

sav, flicking through a rack of dresses labelled $4 apiece: RIP to little miss rich bitch reynolds but i'm different ;)

no hate to allison she's awesome but she grew up in the lap of luxury surrounded by designer brands so she knows NOTHING about thrifting and rationing money in general

oh and sav and allison have kind of a frenemies thing going on bcs they're both fighting for the top spot of their fashion design course

they spend the whole day shopping and aaron ends up with a highly upgraded wardrobe that contains a lot of cute pastel stuff and sav's promise to do his makeup

aaron insists on paying for dinner at the really nice pizza place a short drive from campus even tho they all protest

and andrew knows he's found new friends, but has no idea that it's the vixens and he's dating one of them. nicky does tho, but he's sworn to secrecy

nicky thinks his new clothes are adorable and is stunned when aaron tells him the total cost

"oh my GOD that girl sounds like a genius."

"yeah, her name's sav. you guys,, would get along, i think."

okay now for the winter break part!!

i think that you can get permission to stay at dorms if you're an international student or something??

anyways since sav's super upset bcs her father straight-up told her not to come home bcs he has a new girlfriend ( god i hate sav's father )

katelyn would stay with her, but her dad can finally have her home in new york for christmas and she really doesn't want to miss it

cleo, the only one with a properly functional family, is going back to her big family house and loving parents and grandma and aunt and siblings and cousins. love that for her.

so aaron and sav are stuck at psu for 2 weeks and aaron's surprisingly cool with this. and sav's excited bcs for the first time since her mom died, she can spend her christmas with someone she actually wants around instead of her shitty-ass father and his constant stream of bitchy girlfriends

they spend a lot of time together, stealing food from the athlete's dining hall to make their own weird combos, which usually ends with aaron making something Cool and Interesting and sav gagging and spitting out whatever strange concoction she had previously insisted would taste good

i literally can't bring myself to give a shit about the twinyards' deal bcs andrew literally became best friends with renee?? and hooks up with guys at eden’s??? idk what's going on there but it's like andrew is trying to control aaron's life while he can do whatever he wants??? and honestly wtf????

also let me just make it clear that i ADORE andrew so so much he's one of my favourite comfort characters ever but i'm not gonna make excuses for his shitty behaviour. i fully believe he heals and puts away his pride to apologise to aaron, nicky, and kevin for his treatment of them

that's definitely not to say that aaron's internalised homophobia isn't eww, but with so many important people in his life gay, he makes a huge effort to get over it

so andrew just thinks that aaron is spending a lot of time in the library or out with nicky or something

and when aaron tells sav about this deal, she's kinda horrified, but it's pretty clear to her that aaron so desperately wants to fix his relationship with his brother, and she's not in any place to discourage him, is she?

the only thing she can do is hope that he won't come out all the worse for it

and stare at the boy curled up on the other end of the pale pink sofa cleo's parents had gotten, wonder just how much shit he'd been put through, and decide she was going to be his best friend

aaron's face has gone entirely impassive. sav nudges his fluffy-socked foot with her own, then reaches out to smooth the crease between his eyebrows. "careful, you'll wrinkle your pretty little face."

aaron is very caught off guard by this, and very promptly flushes bright red, which contrasts with the pale teal hoodie he stole from katelyn

"okay, enough talk about depressing crap. wanna go make christmas cookies now?"

"yeah."

so they make christmas cookies. well, it was supposed to be christmas cookies, but it turns into double chocolate fudge cookies somewhere along the line. neither of them knows how

them baking together is the definition of chaos. they're still blasting songs, and sav is singing along terribly

"yOu'Re A mEaN oNe, Mr. GrInCh," while poking aaron's cheek as he tries to mix something. he throws a handful of flour at her. "yOu ReAlLy ArE A hEel."

anyways obviously sav retaliates and that ends in a flour fight. it only stops when aaron deadass cracks an egg on sav's head and she smears chocolate into his hair

she also tries to make him sing along to baby, it's cold outside

"i'Ve GoT tO Go `wAAyyy~" she holds a spatula up to his face

"go away."

they video call katelyn, who takes one look at the mess in the cramped dorm kitchen and sighs so loudly and dramatically that her dad pops in and asks if everything's okay

aaron freezes up at the sight of him and sav quickly turns off the camera, bcs they both want to make good impressions on him, and being covered in various cookie ingredients just won't cut it, ya know?

the cookies turn out delicious and sav sends all their group chat various photos of the process, most of which consist of selfies with her making goofy faces while aaron is simultaneously baking and flipping off the camera

plus a several videos of sav enthusiastically dancing and mouthing the lyrics of, as follows, all i want for christmas is you, let it snow, and santa claus is coming to town and aggressively pointing a spatula at aaron

"c'mon aari, just sing! please??? please???? please you can do it i believe in you!!"

finally he just. gives up. "okay, you know what? fine, i'll sing to ONE and then you will STOP bothering me you insolent dumbass."

sav beams. santa baby starts playing. aaron is very clearly going through five stages of grief in 0.5 seconds

"go on," sav says sweetly as she slides in next to a pouting aaron, "i'll sing with you."

sav slings an arm around his shoulder and sways with him, so it's just her doing that and him grumpily mumbling the lyrics

and when the cookies are cooling down, they start cleaning the kitchen up. aaron rubs some spilled egg yolk into sav's hair but it goes pretty okay otherwise, since they're just listening to more christmas songs and chatting about light stuff, like aaron's biochem course, sav's fashion course, and their dumb classmates

aaron mostly listens tho, and learns that sav kind of hates allison reynolds for giving up her inheritance when she would do ANYTHING for even the tiniest fraction of that money

but she still thinks allison's gorgeous bcs c'mon

and that sav's dream is to one day open her own boutique!!

aaron spends most of the actual christmas day with the monsters at eden's bcs nicky and andrew wanted to

he spent a lot of the time texting on their group chat

doessavvyisgay: so u just go to a nightclub every week??

unaliveme: i mean yeah, i literally worked here for a while. we needed money and nicky was already working 2 jobs night and day

actualblessing: babe ur backstory is so tragic

unaliveme: i'm a fox for a reason ig

cleo.magda: Yes but-

doessavvyisgay renamed this conversation "aaron miniyard support group"

unaliveme: oh ffs

unaliveme: sav subject change go

doessavvyisgay: i'm at the clothes store what should i get?

actualblessing: something pretty :)

doessavvyisgay: sorry, i can't buy the cashier

cleo.magda: Wow.

doessavvyisgay: I DID GET HER NUMBER THO

unaliveme: lmaooo what's her name?

doessavvyisgay: uh

unaliveme: savannah istg u don't even know her name??

actualblessing: s a v

actualblessing: damn u really do be turning on the Charm tho

actualblessing: respect i didn't even talk to aaron till i asked him for notes bcs he has rly pretty notes and also a rly pretty face

actualblessing: and even then i was like :0

unaliveme: IT WAS CUTE I PROMISE

doessavvyisgay: u 2 = the only valid heterosexual couple

actualblessing: rt

unaliveme: oh shit i'm getting super drunk

cleo.magda: Aaron, you drink? That's not legal, get out of there right now. Kids these days-

unaliveme: cleo u have literally seen me get drunk af,, the first time we met,,, and anyways this is how my family bonds ✌🏻

doessavvyisgay: that's. so damn weird kiddo but go off ig

actualblessing: no go find better things to bond about other than alcohol and weird sweaty dancing

cleo.magda: Yeah, go watch some Christmas movies!

unaliveme: nicky makes us watch die hard every year

doessavvyisgay: see u in hell, kiddo ;)

cleo.magda: I meant things like The Polar Express and Home Alone.

actualblessing: merry christmas ya filthy animals!!

doessavvyisgay: merry xmas y'all i'm gonna go to that christmas party bcs i'm super bored

unaliveme: merry christmas mothers and fuckers

cleo.magda: Merry Christmas, you guys!

[etoileholland]

My devilish darling boy

Anonymous asked: Dad!tom’s kid accidentally ruins the new script for his movie after finishing it and is reluctant to tell the truth when they see how mad he gets at the boys thinking one of them did it. Also I love you😘❤️

Pairing: Dad!Tom x female reader

Warnings: an argument & some bad words throughout

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: I love you too and I really hope you enjoy! Requests/prompts are always open so don’t hesitate to send some in 💛

(photo not mine, all credit goes to its respective owner)

“You can watch over Luca, right?” You asked as you grabbed your purse from the table by the door. You were going off to a business luncheon and you couldn’t bring yours and Tom’s two year old son Luca with you.

“Yes darling, I’m plenty capable of watching over our son. Actually, I’m planning on visiting my parents so they can watch over Luca while my brothers read the script.” He replied as he helped you put on your jacket.

“That’ll be nice, he loves to go visit grandma and play with Tessa.”

“He sure does.” He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, but I gotta go.” You looked down at your watch, letting out a sigh. “Shit, I’m gonna be late. Just make sure you watch over Luca, I mean it.” You pointed your finger at him and closed the door behind you.

I can do this, he thought. He looked over to see Luca sitting on the floor with his pacifier in his mouth. He smiled at his son, walking over to scoop him up onto his arms, before kissing him on the cheek. Luca had inherited Tom’s curly brown hair but inherited your eyes, and Tom loved that.

“C’mon baby boy, let’s go see grandma.” He stated and his son buried his head into his chest.

—

A twenty minute drive later, Tom and Luca were parked outside of the Holland residence. He got Luca out of his car seat and proceeded to knock on the door. After a second, the door swung open to see his mum beaming at him.

“Honey, it’s so good to see you. And how’s my darling little angel doing?” Nikki cooed as Tom passed off Luca to her so she could hold him. He put his arms around her neck and giggled lightly.

“The boys are sitting in the office waiting to read your script, so I’ll watch over my precious grandson.” She tickled him lightly which caused him to giggle some more.

“Thank you mum, trust me I appreciate it.” He kissed her on the cheek and entered the house, immediately being tackled by Tessa.

“Tessa darling I’ve missed you!” He petted her behind the ears and rubbed her belly; her tail wagged happily as he gave her some love. After a minute he got back up and walked into the office, where Sam and Harry were awaiting his arrival.

“Hey guys.” He said as his brothers stood up to give him a hug.

“Where’s the little one?” Sam inquired.

“With mum, she’ll watch over him while we’re working.” Tom said as he pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Good, we don’t need any distractions. Now gimme that script, I’m dying to read it.” Harry snatched it from Tom’s hand and plopped back down into his chair.

Two long hours later, the boys were done reading it.

“Wow Tom, I never thought I would say this but you’re actually talented.” Harry spoke up and leaned back in his chair.

“He’s right, that was actually super good. That twist at the ending was pure genius.” Sam added with a chef’s kiss, and Tom laughed

“Although the spelling errors in this are astronomical. How the hell did you even make it through sixth form?” Harry remarked and was met with a swift punch to the arm.

“Ouch.” He rubbed his bicep and Tom held his finger up to his mouth to shush him. “Did you hear that?” He stated in a hushed tone. The boys looked at each other, their ears perking up as they heard a crying in the distance. The crying grew louder, and they looked up to see Nikki standing in the doorway with Luca in her arms.

“Darling, I think Luca misses you. He won’t stop crying so do you mind taking a break and tending to that right now?” Nikki asked as Tom walked closer to her before grabbing his son from her arms.

“Angel, what’s the matter? Why is my baby boy upset?” He cooed, gently bouncing him and holding his son tight.

“I’m sad.”

“Why are you sad, hm?” He asked lovingly.

“Cuddles.” He whispered and Tom knew exactly what he was referring to. Tom always devotes at least thirty minutes out of his day to cuddle with him, but he must’ve forgotten due to being tied up with the script.

“Let do that right now, alright?” He kissed the top of his head and Luca’s crying began to cease.

“You guys can make critiques on it, yeah? And please keep that safe, because I didn’t work that hard on it for it to be ruined.” He said while the boys nodded their heads.

“We’ll watch over it, don’t worry.” Sam said, and Harry added, “Now go spend some time with your son.”

“Thank you.” His son rubbed his eyes and Tom wiped the tears away, and walked into the living room so that he could cuddle with him.

Tom lie down on the couch and set Luca on his chest, rubbing light circles on his back to get him to fall asleep. He could hear his breathing become more relaxed, and after a few minutes Luca was sound asleep. Tom dozed off as well, and was woken by forty minutes later.

“Done!” Luca exclaimed energetically, wriggling himself out of his father’s arms. He climbed off the couch and toddled over to Tessa to pet her.

Tom crouched down, kissed Luca on the top of his head, and decided to take this opportunity to go back to his brothers to get some critiques for the script.

—

“Tom, I was going to go for a walk to get the post, would you want to come with?” Dom asked, jacket and keys in hand. The boys had spent about two hours marking up Tom’s script, and took to drinking tea to keep themselves awake.

“Um sure, let me go grab my jacket and make sure someone capable watches over Luca.” He got up, sauntering into the kitchen, where he saw Luca and Paddy both sharing a bowl of Cheerios.

“Can you watch over him? After mum, I trust you the most and I’m gonna go take a walk with dad.”

“Yeah sure.” Paddy replied flatly as he intently watched Luca slowly put Cheerios into his mouth.

Tom then poked his head into the office, and stated, “When you’re done, put the script back in my bag and lock the door so that nothing bad will happen to it, you got it?”

“Have some faith in us, big brother. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Sam waved, but Tom hesitantly smiled. “Okay, I’m trusting you both. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

“You won’t!” Harry hollered back. They waited until they heard the front door lock, and shared a glance.

“Fifa?” Harry asked and Sam nodded. “Hell yeah. I think the script will be fine here on the table, right?” Sam inquired. “Yeah, Tom worries too much. No wonder he has a few grey hairs.” He remarked as they closed the door to the office, leaving the script on the table with a cup of tea right next to it. They waltzed out of the office and waved at Paddy, who was in the kitchen.

“Hey would you want to play fifa with us? We cannot stand to read that thing anymore.”

“I would, but I have to watch over Luca.” He looked over at his nephew who looked curiously back at him.

“Just leave him with his Cheerios. Honestly Tom worries too much about his kid, he’ll be fine.” Harry remarked and Paddy agreed. “You’re right.”

Paddy stood up and pushed his chair in. He looked over and pointed at his nephew before saying, “Now you stay here, and don’t leave this chair.” He glanced while Luca stared at him curiously.

“Good boy.” The boys walked off and Luca was left by himself and his cereal. After a few minutes he finished, looking around to see that he was alone.

“Done.” He said as he began to crawl off the chair. He toddled over into the office where Tom’s backpack was, which was also where Tom had placed Luca’s snacks and toys. While looking for his stuffed monkey Mr. Bananas, he bumped into the table and the tea conveniently spilled all over the script.

“Uh oh.” He whispered as the tea dripped off the table and onto the wood floor. Fleeing the crime scene, Luca swiftly waddled away from the room, Mr. Bananas in hand, and went into the living room like nothing had ever happened.

—

Thirty minutes later, Tom skipped into the office and was surprised to see the room vacant. He was also surprised to see his script soaking wet, tea cup on its side as the tea dripped onto the hardwood floor.

“Those bastards.” He stormed out of the room, drenched script in hand while frantically searching the house for his little brothers. He stopped when he saw Sam and Harry sitting in the living room in front of the telly, headsets on with no cares in the world. He stood in front of the TV and unplugged the Xbox from the wall, while ignoring his brothers groans and remarks.

“Why the fuck would you leave a teacup right next to the script? And why didn’t you put the script somewhere safe like I told you to? It was supposed to be locked away in the office for a reason, and I know one of you fuckers must have done something.” He spat, holding the sopping wet script in his hands, before slamming it down on the table. “Do you know how hard I worked on that thing? Just for you to spill tea all over it like the twats you are, and not even own up to the fact that you did it?”

“What are you on about? We didn’t spill tea on your script.” Harry stated as he reached for a crisp from the bowl next to him.

“Alright, you’re playing dumb. Then can you tell me why there is earl grey tea all over the script?” Tom spat but the boys were speechless.

“Well, say something. Don’t make me look like an idiot standing here with a sopping wet script.”

“That’s never stopped you from looking like an idiot before.” Harry smirked, and Tom clenched his fist. His jaw was clenched, and his face was burning red.

“I swear, if you don’t own up to this I will literally murder you.” Tom said angrily which only caused his brothers to stifle a laugh.

“Fucking own up to it!” He yelled and his brothers sat quiet.

Luca was sitting on the hallway floor, around the corner of the living room. His lip quivered as his father raised his voice, feeling bad that his father was blaming his brothers for something they didn’t do.

“We definitely didn’t do that.” Harry munched on a crisp, passing the bowl to Sam so he could grab some as well. Just then Tom snatched the bowl from Sam’s hands and slammed it down on the coffee table.

“Fucking hell Tom, we didn’t do it. Why don’t you believe when we said it wasn’t us?” Sam retorted.

“Who else could it have been, hm? You were the last ones in there and you were supposed to lock the door after you left. Might I add you were also supposed to put the script in my bag like I explicitly asked.” He paced the room, covering his face with his hands. “And besides, why did you go off and play fifa when I specifically asked you to critique the damn script.”

“I don’t know, we got bored of reading it and we wanted to take a break. But why the hell would we ruin it?” Harry let out a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I don’t know, maybe you have a personal vendetta against me or something. Or, maybe because you’re jealous of my success, and you can’t stand to see me accomplish something that you could only dream of.”

The room instantly became eerily silent as the boys shared a glance. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut through it, and the hostility loomed over everyone. The boys snarled at the same time, and Sam flipped off Tom.

“Fuck you.” Harry spat at him, and Tom’s face became redder.

“No, fuck you.” He pointed at them, and stormed out of the room. He rounded the corner too quickly and nearly tripped over his son who was beginning to cry.

“Shit.” He whispered and paused for a second at his choice of word. “I’m sorry angel, I didn’t see you sitting there. Don’t worry about what daddy said, I’m not mad at you at all.” He said in a soft tone, but Luca began to cry.

“Daddy, I-” he sobbed. Tom instantly crouched down right next to his son and scooped him into a big hug.

“What’s wrong now?” He asked, his tone sounding more harsh than intended.

“I d-did it daddy, I-I’m sorry. P-please don’t get a-angey.” He blubbered and Tom’s heart sank.

“You did it?” He asked, and Luca nodded. “D-didn’t mean t-to.” He sobbed, which made Tom instantly feel guilty for blaming his brothers.

“Why did you do it?” He tilted his head to the side, scanning his son’s face as he waited for the answer.

“B-bananas.”

“Oh.” The pieces clicked in his mind as he realised that Luca would go into his bag to look for Mr. Bananas, since he loved to play with him after their cuddle sessions. “I b-bumped into the table and it s-spilled.”

Tom let out a long sigh, tilting his head backwards as he let out a small groan. He looked over at his son who was rubbing his eyes, letting out small cries as the tears streamed down his face. He picked Luca up, and he instantly buried his head into the crook of Tom’s neck. “Daddy’s not mad darling, I’m sorry. It can be fixed for sure, I promise.” He continued to hold his sobbing son as a tear fell down his own cheek. “Please don’t cry anymore bub, it’s okay.” He felt his son’s breathing calm down, his little sobs turning into hiccups.

“Do you have the clicks now?” He asked, while his son buried his face into his chest.

He picked Luca up and made his way back into the living room, pausing before beginning to apologise profusely.

“Guys I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have blamed you. I know you said you didn’t do it and I should have trusted you. I didn’t realise Luca went in there to get his toy, and he must’ve knocked into the table, and that was how the tea got all over it.”

“No, it’s our fault, we should’ve locked the door like you said to. We just thought you were being overprotective.” Sam stated and Harry added, “We didn’t anticipate anything bad happening to it, but we should’ve been more careful, especially with a toddler running around.”

“It could’ve been worse I guess, at least no one was harmed, right darling?” He looked down at his son, who clutched his shirt with his tiny hands.

“But you’re right, I was being far too overprotective with it. Luckily I had an extra copy of it that I sent over to Robert to read, so I can ask him to just send it back when he’s finished.” He lightly adjusted his son to rest on his hip, and looked apologetically at his brothers. “I didn’t mean what I said just now, I was just furious at how much work went into it.”

He looked down at the floor, and whispered, “Do you forgive me?”

“It’s understandable why you would be upset, I swear it won’t happen again. But of course, apology accepted.” They ran over and everyone put their arms around him in a large embrace. Tom felt his son squirming so he backed away from the hug.

“I love you all so much, you know that, right?” He asked while his brothers all nodded.

“We love you too, you twat.”

——

Mes anges (taglist): @starkissedholland​ @scarletxwidow​ @fangirlwithasweettooth​ @lmaotshollandd​ @musicalkeys​ @taciturnspidey​

[ubemango]

this tiny space (m)

note: There’s 9 days till Christmas but Fuck it!!!!!! It’s come early because I said so 😎 Welcome back tts universe, and welcome to ubemango teehee 💖💖💖💖

PAIRING. yoongi/reader GENRE. romance, parents!au RATED. M WORD COUNT. 3.2k WARNINGS. toys, shower sex, creampie, oral (f receiving) EXCERPT. Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long.

The duckies are your daughter’s favourite toys to play with, right after Bboong the whale and the lonesome poop squeaky toy drifting aimlessly near the edge of the tub.

“Soonbok, what did I tell you about splashing?”

She slumps into herself, calming the wriggling of her arms. Her little bread rolls softening into the big-girl-arms you don’t want her to grow into just yet.  “It makes mommy wet and it’s not niiiiice.”

“That’s right, baby.”

She distracts herself with the bubbles when Yoongi’s voice floats in from your bedroom. “Babe?”

“Mm?”

“Mom’s asking what time we’re dropping by.”

“Uh—” you wash Soonbok’s hair diligently as she hums a song to herself— “like an hour, I guess?”

“Okay—”

“MOMMY!” Eyes as wide as the moon, Soonbok screams in a sudden act of proclamation, tiny arms stretched above her head. She looks absolutely distraught. “Santa! Cookies? Cookies! We—We didn’t make cookies! Mommy mommy—”

“I know, Soonbok, you’re baking them with grandma tonight. Remember? Daddy reminded you today.”

“Cookies, mommy. We didn’t make the cookies!”

You reach for the basket sitting next to the tub, smiling silently at her worry. Yoongi likes to deny any accusation of her inheriting his dramatic nature but you know she didn’t get it from you. “You’re making them later, baby. Now, put your toys in here so we can clean up, okay?”

She does so without a word, grabbing the floating toys and placing them inside the plastic container. Thanking her softly, you give her a final rinse before draining the tub and toweling her off. She hates this part the most—it gets too cold too fast, and she’d gained the habit of running off naked into Yoongi’s arms when she was 2-years-old, prompting an especially exhausting goose chase around the room to get her into her clothes—so you dry her off as fast as you can, Soonbok’s tiny body shivering already, chanting: “Go, go, go!”

It’s not long before she’s in her pyjamas and bounding off to her daddy as you dry off the floor. It’s not nearly as wet as you’d anticipated, pride blooming in your chest as you think wistfully about how much older your daughter is getting: she didn’t even need to “clean up, clean up” the puddles on the tiles.

“Yoongi, can you help her pack?”

With that you hear a grunt and two heavy feet planting themselves onto the carpet. “Come, Soonbok, time to pack so you can visit Mama!”

A series of whooping and squealing follows the two down the hall. Soon enough Soonbok is packed and ready to go, her winter boots squelching on the thin layer of snow as she runs, her Pororo backpack bouncing along with her. Yoongi locks the door behind you, and stops you before you can head to the driveway.

“I have a surprise later.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “I’m scared.”

“Have faith, little one.” He smiles wide, clapping you on the back, the beep of the car following. “I promise it’s good.”

Yoongi’s mom’s house is decked out in glowing Christmas lights; metres of every colour imaginable strung all over the window sills, garage door, and even the 13 foot pine tree sitting out front. Soonbok had always admired the effort her grandparents put into decorating, and questioned constantly if you would do the same for your house. You’ve forgone any sort of warehouse shopping for lights because Yoongi is cautious about the electricity bill, however, and Soonbok had claimed offense right away. She spit in your face the next second: “That’s shitty.” 

(Yoongi broke his back laughing, and you had to claim the bad cop title that night when you scolded her. She’s a lot nicer now.)

Mama opens the door just as Yoongi places Soonbok down after lifting her up to press the doorbell. “My pretty granddaughter! You’re here!” She bends down and places a million and one kisses on your baby’s face while she squirms helplessly.

“Merry Christmas Mama!” Soonbok literally screams after breaking free from the barrage of obligatory Mama Kisses.

“Merry Christmas to you too, our pretty Soonbok.” She holds her  hand, bringing her inside with a quick tut of stomp your boots so the floor isn’t icky. Soonbok happily makes garbled noises—she does this when she does something intensely—as she focuses all her strength into the soles of her feet as she removes the snow from her boots on the doormat.

“Oof! Oof! Gone! Gone! Gone!”

Yoongi looks at you with a disturbed face. “She’s so violent,” he whispers.

“It’s cute!”

“She’s like a mini bulldozer.”

“Yoongi.”

He pinches your wrist, then brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it.

“We’ll be back in two days, ‘kay baby?” You lean down once she’s finished stomping, pressing a kiss to Soonbok’s sweaty hair, pushing it away from her eyes. “You be good for Mama.”

“M’kay,” Soonbok says. “Will I—Will I miss you?”

You can feel Yoongi shake in laughter. “I don’t know, baby. But daddy and mommy will miss you so much.”

Yoongi is next. He steps forward, bending his knees slightly, putting his hand up in invitation. Soonbok doesn’t hesitate to highfive him. “You love daddy?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna miss daddy?”

“Yeah!”

“You gonna kiss daddy bye bye?”

Soonbok leans into the cheek Yoongi presents to her. Places the tiniest peck with as much pout as she can muster. Mama gives you both a hug and a kiss, and ends pleasantries with quick motions of her hands to shoo you two away.

“Have fun! We won’t call you for help,” she says as she sees Yoongi about to interject. “Go. We love you.”

“Thank you Mama,” you say, and off you and your husband go, waving at your daughter who can barely reach her head over the window frame to see you leave as you settle in the car. You’re on the road with the radio low when Yoongi speaks.

“What time is the party?”

You check the clock on the radio: 7:02 PM. “Two hours, ish. Why?”

He hums. “Just wondering.”

Coming home with no screaming three-year-old is off-putting, to say the least. The lights turn on to a dull hum, fills the empty space as you remove your coat. Yoongi tosses his keys somewhere behind you, and promptly sidles up to your back. He leads with a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Feels weird,” you say.

“Hm?”

“Without her here.”

Yoongi squeezes you with his closed embrace. “I miss her already.”

You turn around and kiss him like no one’s watching; a reality just out of reach on any other day but very, very tangible now as you feel Yoongi press his lips insistently on yours. Hot intimacy long overdue and shortly lived when you breathe, “It’s—I’m just—like—waiting for her to pull on my pants or something.” You know it’s the most unsexy thing to say, but Yoongi’s tongue prods into your mouth anyway.

“Stop—talking about our daughter.”

“Sorry.”

He shrugs, then takes your hand. “Wanna shower?”

“Please.”

The mirror is already beginning to fog up when you come in with towels, placing them on the sink as you admire your very much shirtless husband. Yoongi was always attractive—your sexy piece of ass, as you like to remind him often—and seeing the tight skin of his back when he undresses further makes the insides of your stomach churn in want: the kind that made you want to fall to your knees, grovel. You love having a kid, but it’s been too long. (Soonbok had been battling a nasty flu over the past two weeks, allowing you and Yoongi virtually no time together.)

“You’re so hot,” you say.

Yoongi snorts. “Get naked.”

You do, quickly. The battering of the water soaks just right along your skin, Yoongi’s warmth following. Being in this tiny space with him fills you with a stupid amount of giddiness. Meeting under what feels like secret circumstances, a tryst you’re not supposed to indulge. He mouths a sigh along your shoulders. “Missed you like hell.”

“I know, baby. Pass the soap?” It’s the apricot wash he hands you. “Tired?”

“Nah.”

You scrub; Yoongi massages the suds in his hair. Stealing kisses to your neck when you don’t expect it. The water is scalding, but his touch scorches you. “Oh—what was surprise you were talking about earlier?”

“Mm. Finish up and I’ll tell you.”

It’s like fuel, his promise. He laughs at your rush to rinse off, bottles nearly bowled off in your haste.  You know he won’t blame you for being too eager, though. The liberation that comes with being a parent with no immediate responsibilities makes you feel unbelievably sexy.

You spin to meet your front to his; chests hot, noses bumping. Arms melting into the soft of his shoulders when you reach around him. “Tell me!”

He molds his mouth onto yours in answer, hands searching for your ass before squeezing. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, fathead.”

“Sit down here and let me service you, wife.” An easy command you raise your eyebrows to. The shower bench is distractingly cool against your ass. Yoong’s immediate drop to his knees brings your attention back. He lets you slide till you’re comfortable, grabbing the slick of your calf to rest beside his ear. “So I have, what—a little less than an hour and a half to make you cum?”

“Yessir.”

His fingers are pruned cold when they spread your pussy. “You’re delectable, I hope you know.”

There’s a tease of his nail on your clit, then the hard suck that follows. You shiver right into his touch. “Hhhh—God.”

The water from the showerhead rains steady on his back. A lustful dimension of steam and fogged-up glass. His tongue slides a dangerous path along your slit, taking the buck of your hips with the same enthusiasm.

His strokes batter your clit straight on, all his frustrations from not getting to pay attention to you the way he wants all honed in on the slick of his saliva. Claiming all your heat with his mouth, an intensity you try not to shy away from so you close your eyes instead.

“Yoongi—oh—!” He’s suckling like he’s starved. A nice reminder that your pussy is still his preferred meals for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Your thigh twitches with every pulse of his puckered lips, tips of your fingers sliding helplessly along the shower tile, no traction for your desperation.

“Oh,” you whine. Blearily seeing Yoongi with his own eyes shut tight, mouth sealed on your sopping sex, your nipples taut. His hair sticks to his forehead. “Shit—”

He groans into you. Switching gears and pressing his head deeper in between your thighs if only to assure that he gets every single drop of desire you have to offer. His head bobs with every sharp indulgence, tongue twisting fast into the wetness you offer, noises from your throat spilling faster than you can keep them down.

“I’m—close...”

He’s got either thigh on his shoulder in an instant. The unholy mixture of your arousal and his spit slides right down your ass, filth of it all squeezing your thighs to his ears. “Oh my god.“ The squelch is lewd, a sound only half registering through the buzz in your ears from how loud you’re getting. “Fuck, Yoongi, I’m—!”

It’s the last barrier holding the dam together bursting. Your orgasm rips right through you, the speed so alarming it’s all you can do not to buck his head off completely. The tightness at your cunt unfurling right into Yoongi’s waiting mouth, your hips grinding into his heat. Your eyes roll back with the collapse of your mind into ecstasy.

He doesn’t stop. Not until you’re panting through pleas, thighs trembling into a close. He fends it off with insistent hands.

“Yoongi, oh my God—please—no more—!”

The pop is loud when he loosens his suckling. “All I’d do, you know. This cunt?” He taps your pelvis affectionately, watching your come-down with a hunger he doesn’t try to hide. “The best.”

“Mhm,” you pant. “I’ll—I’ll let her know you think so kindly of her.”

“I’ll send a gift basket too. Cranberries, pineapples?”

Your legs are dead weights when you drop them down. “That’s good—I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Good.” He accepts the kiss you give him. Slow in your exchange, sticky with the taste of your tang. 

The glide of his fingers along your chest is tentative. He’s careful with the squeeze of your tit, but you press forward with silent encouragement. It’d taken a while for you to warm up to Yoongi touching you like this, with the confidence to accept his attention. The part of motherhood that mangled all the youthful parts away from you consumed most of your sex life after having Soonbok, sucked especially out of what was once your pert chest, the smooth skin of your stomach. Yoongi was patient, though. You didn’t fuck with the lights on for a solid two months, and that was only until your daughter had learned to sleep through the night. “I still haven’t—I still have something for you, baby.”

You lick into his mouth. “I have the feeling we won’t be on time for the party.”

“Seokjin will understand the needs of a man who was desperate to ravish his wife after a two week dry spell—“

“Relax, wise guy,” you retort. “Show me what you have. I missed you too.”

Yoongi opens the door, reaching over to rummage for something in one of the baskets on the floor. He presents to you a—

“Vibrator? Yoongi that’s gonna get wet—“

It’s an annoyed look he sends you. “Made sure to get a waterproof vibe, genius. Now get up against the wall, my knees hurt and I’m—so fucking hard.”

“Should I face you?”

He shakes his head. “I—Will you let me fuck you here?” You realize belatedly that the water is, in fact, still running.

“I don’t think I’ll cum though.”

Tutting, Yoongi waves the vibe around. “I’ll make you feel good. Now spare some ass, please. Lube?”

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” The tile is a comforting cool on your forehead, stifling that warmth when the head of his dick presses against your core. Yoongi rubbing along your slick, closing your eyes at the near-foreign feeling of hitting it from the back because that’s just too loud in the cloak of a late night. He bottoms out with an ease that makes your fists curl tight.

“Oh—shit.”

“Feel good?”

“Yeah—oh. Please.”

Suddenly all you know is the pounding of the shower water, the pounding in all the right places. It’s dizzying, trapped in the fever of his drive. He buries his head in your neck, your name strangled in his throat. Then he puts the vibe against your clit.

The sensation is new, a shaking of your nerves that has you reeling. “Oh fuck.”

Yoongi rams his hips with vigour unmatched, breath stunted. “Shit you feel so—fuck how close—can you cum?”

“N-No,” you say. Or: whimper, because regardless, you feel light. The quiver of the wet silicone slips in his hold, too busy keeping the pace you’re both losing yourselves to.

He shuts the vibe. “Hold this, please.”

The faucets squeak shut. Yoongi slips out, a slow preamble to his haste when he nearly tears off the shower curtains, reaching for the towels you’d laid out. Drying you off isn’t as graceful as you’d like but neither of you are pressed for a complete towel-off at this point—he completely ignores your hair to dry off with the other just as quick.

It’s almost funny, him dragging you by the wrist from the warmth and straight into the cold air that hits too fast, but not as fast as Yoongi finding the mattress and pushing you down face first. He slaps your ass for good measure. “Sorry, I—holy fuck. Please let me make you cum.”

“In. In in in—”

He’s quick to fill you up. Yoongi pistons his dick like he’s never known a slower alternative. Testing your ability to keep up but your hips are locked with his grip.

Something’s missing. And you feel it—limp in your hand, the vibe shut off. It’s on with a shaky press of your thumb. You’re quick to introduce the revving where you pulse. You know Yoongi feels it when he swears. Landing a quick slap to your ass in retaliation but you love when he makes you take it. ”Shit, keep going.”

The skin on your ass stings. Moans in tandem with each smack of his palm. The toy digs deep in your clit, breath hitching because you feel it. You’re drowning in it. “Oh god Yoongi—just like that—”

You hear him talk but it sounds like cymbals clashing, nothing coherent registering in your head. Just noise in the roughness of your love, the roar in your ears overwhelming any sense of using your tongue to speak so you mewl instead.

His hips are damp against your ass. The sound is nasty in all the right ways. It’s got your gut twisted in the absolute need to just—you just—

“Yoongi I’m—”

Both hands hold your hips up higher. You cum like this, crying into the sheets, suns and stars rearranging in the dark of your closed eyes when you succumb to the explosive relief. Dropping the vibe onto the sheets because you’ve lost all sense of a good grip, clutching the bed like it’s your lifeline. You bury Yoongi’s name in the sheets.

“I’m cumming—I’m cumming-—” he declares. He stutters in rhythm, pumping cum deep where you drip. Groaning low, fingers tight on your skin. “Oh my god.”

You reach down with shaky hands, shutting the toy off. “I’m dead. I can’t—feel my legs.”

Yoongi makes a choked noise. “You know when you cum I see the seventh heaven?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like?”

He pulls out, lets you collapse onto your back. “What, feeling you cum? It’s—euphoric.”

“Ooh, big words.”

“Only the best for—” he taps your pelvis once more— “the best pussy.”

“Come here, stupid.” Yoongi crawls over you, uncaring of the mess left all over your cunt. “Kiss me.”

He does. It’s languid, sweaty—the softness that comes post-intense sex. You feel a surge of adoration run through you when your legs tangle. “I love you,” you say.

He sinks his lips into yours again. “Same to you, momma. Now go pee, I’ll change the sheets.”

You feel a tug on your chest. “So sexy.”

“And I’ll dry your hair.” You feign a shudder. Yoongi smacks your ass in faux-haste. “Go. We’re late as it is.”

“That is not my fault!”

He tuts. “Go and pee so we can call Soonbok before she sleeps.”

By the time you’re prim enough to go on video chat, Soonbok has just brushed her teeth. “Hi baby. Are you ready to sleep?”

Soonbok is very focused on her dolls. “Yeah, mommy. I’m tired.” She says this like an overworked maid. A thirty-year-old tinge of exhaustion probably from changing and feeding her dollies, and you stifle a laugh. “Mama, I’m sleepy.”

“Sleep well, Soonbok,” Yoongi pipes up from behind you, just about to put on his jacket. “Be a good girl, okay?”

“M’kay daddy. You be good too, ‘kay?”

“Will do, baby.”

You say bye after Soonbok hands the phone back to Mama, exchanging good nights as Yoongi helps you slip your coat on. Seokjin won’t be too mad at your tardiness, you hope. Seeing the tired smile of your baby is all worth it. And Yoongi smiles, knowing you.

“I miss her,” he says. Pushing down the instinctual need to check the baby monitor, you press forward out the door.

“Me too.”

[heeytwelve]

The Mage. Childhood.

Disclaimer: Yes, The Mage is still awful person, there is a lot of posts about it. From my point of view he’s protagonist who stepped on the dark side officially when he killed Natasha Pitch (but someone would think it happened earlier, with death of Lucy. Serial mother killer isn’t he?) Anyway.

There’s still a lot of WHY he is like this. What formed him as a person, what’s his childhood was like, in particular. And while there’s no official answers, I have two guesses, which I call HC’s.

tl;dr BOTH HC lead us to The Mage

1) not having proper childhood and loving parents (they either absent or neglected) 2) projecting himself on Simon heavily and hence - he has to tolerate same things as The Mage did 3) Lack of love which led to lack of social/emotional intellect and coldness towards Simon 4) not having sense of himself as worthy, hence clutching to the HIGHER goal, greater good. Never having a father figure or never being assured that he is more than outsider - he just had to create it, to validate himself. 5) HUGE parallels with Tom Riddle. Proletarean Tom Riddle.

HC -1. The Mage himself was raised in care houses.

He recognised himself as a magician and find (forced) his way to Watford himself. He would go back to care house every summer again, by himself. When Lucy talks about Davy (thank you @foolofabookwyrm for quote!), she mentions that 1) he first from his family to be in Watford 2) everyone around called him *daft*. Which again - fits the theory - he has no family, hence, he the first one to be in Watford. Daft - same problem as with Simon (read this meta Simon Snow is NOT a himbo about Simon’s issues cause by care houses. Check out answers too, they are as fantastic as meta) - low emotional intellect and socialising skills due to be raised in care houses.

Does he already remind you someone? Yes, The Mage always sort of reminded me Tom Riddle, both have nothing initially, both clutched on something to keep their pride in tact or to have a meaning. But Tom had his posh and famous family tree, while The Mage has none of that. He’s outsider. That’s why his goal - to have outsiders to say last word, to rule, to have access to all, he had to fight for. Proletarian Tom Riddle, other side of medal. He, as Riddle, isolated himself from others to not be distracted from his goal. He as Riddle never looked at his friends as equals, bt rather as tools to get to the goal (yep, same with Lucy and Simon). Both he and TR (if we follow “Cursed Child” as canon) had their kids created in some weird way. So - it could be that both TR and the Mage were raised in care houses.

It will explain well, why The Mage sees nothing bad in Simon being grown up in care houses. He did it himself! He was there. The quote about Simon being adult enough to get the taxi to Watford? He did it himself too! Moreover he forced himself in Watford, while Simon, from his point of view, had it “easy”, with his help. Mage’s parenting motto is “I ask you to do nothing, I wouldn’t do myself. I don’t pity myself. So I don’t pity you. Get up and be strong”. Care houses just home for The Mage. Somewhere to sharpen his strength. Steel, if you will.

The Mage had no father figure, ever. No one to save him from care houses, to get him to the wonderful magical place - so he had no chance to develop softness and dreaminess, which Simon still have. For Mage - everything he does, he does himself. He have no one to trust. He has goal which h should reach, whatever it takes. That’s why he easily annoyed with Simon wanting more of his time/love - he never had it! He already gave Simon something he had no chance to have, so why ask more? Why be so weak and demanding? When The Mage wasn’t that. “In you age I already was that and that and you not nearly there, and you still asking for something?” - sounds familiar? I think so.

HC - 2. The Mage was raised in bitter broken family, who’s main bitterness was revolving around not being able to get into Watford.

There is still mentions that Mage grandma gave (or The Mage inherited) house for him and Lucy to live in (thank you @palimpsessed for quote!), Still can happen in care houses HC, but lets move on from it. So imagine mafical family, but 1) magic too weak or they too poor or both 2) too proud to live like normals 3) to bitter that they can’t get in Watford where they belong.

Basically - they are rejected by magic community, but they themselves rejected (or The Mage himself) the normals community. Bitterness, isolation. The family goal - get into Watford, finally change the family status. And The Mage is a tool - and raised appropriately. To be witty, to train his power, to be be very concentrated on goal. Like all wunderkinds, he most likely have neither proper childhood nor parents. He might still have no parents at all, only grandma. But his goal in life - was to get into Watford and he had no normal or magical friends. The bitterness - eventually led to the bigger goal - let outsiders like he or his family had what he had to fight for easily. Fix the broken system. Bring the revolution. Because he wasn’t interested in kids socialisation and others kids plays - he obviously lacked social skills - so again was perceived as daft. As Lucy mentioned he was really focused on his goal and only.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty Two

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 5th, 1992

“So...what exactly is a trust fund?” Emile asked, cocking his head to the side.

“It’s a bank account where your money can stay safe and sound until you can spend it as an adult,” his grandfather said. “When you’re twenty one, you’ll be able to use it for whatever you want.”

“That’s ten years from now!” Emile groaned. “That’s gonna take forever!”

“It will creep up on you faster than you think,” his grandfather said. “But your grandmother wanted to make sure you’d be responsible with the money, so that’s why you have to wait.”

Emile sighed. He understood, but he didn’t like it. “Does this mean Mom and Dad aren’t gonna give me an allowance any more?”

“I don’t think so!” his grandfather laughed. “After all, the money is of no use if you can’t exactly use it yet! They should still give you money you can use for whatever you want as an allowance.”

“Oh! That’s okay then,” and Emile ran off to finish the book he had been reading before his grandfather called him in to talk about Grandma’s will.

  May 3rd, 2002

Emile could hardly believe it. Today was his twenty first birthday, and he had driven out to the nearest branch of the bank his grandmother used to set up his trust fund all those years ago. He had never been told the exact amount of money that was put in the fund, just given an estimate of somewhere around one hundred fifty thousand dollars.

Grandma definitely knew how to invest, and because his great-grandfather had been a self-starter and had gotten a modest alcohol business off the ground, his grandmother had inherited half of that money, the other half going to his great uncle, her brother. And Emile was the only grandchild she had when she died, so all the money she didn’t leave with his grandfather, she decided to save away for him.

Still, though, Emile’s breath was blown away when he talked to the bank manager and saw the number for himself. Two hundred fifteen thousand dollars. If he wasn’t already sitting down, his legs would have given out from underneath him. He had wondered how his grandparents could afford the house they had, but this number cleared up any questions he might have had.

“God,” Emile breathed, still staring at the number on the screen.

The bank manager looked him over. “You look like you’re about to pass out, do you need some water?”

“I’ll...” Emile choked on his words. “I’ll be okay,” he breathed.

“Your grandmother was a very lucky woman,” the bank manager said.

“Luck was her being born into the family she was. Smarts are what made her be able to get everything she needed and have this much money left over,” Emile said.

The bank manager looked pleased. “You’re rather insightful yourself,” he said. “I know this seems like a lot of money to you, but I hope I don’t have to explain to you how fast that money can go away if you’re not careful.”

“No, believe me, I know,” Emile said, sucking in a breath. “Oh, God. I was planning on investing most, if not all, of the money I inherited, but this is a much larger number than I anticipated.”

The bank manager sniffed a laugh. “Son, this is hardly the largest trust fund this bank has seen.”

“This alone could pay off my college debts,” Emile said, deathly serious. “It’s a lot of money to a broke college kid who’s been working retail to make ends meet with his partner working two jobs just to stay afloat.”

“I see your point,” the manager conceded. “But don’t spend it all in one place, you understand? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Emile said, swallowing. “I could buy a house, or pay off my debts, or any number of things. But I’ll probably be investing it for the time being, watching it grow a little before I decide exactly what I’m going to do with it.”

“You’re smarter than most of the college-aged kids who get these sorts of funds,” the manager said, leading Emile out. “We’ll have the money ready for withdrawal in a couple days. Until then, think wisely on what you’re going to invest in, all right?”

Emile mutely nodded as the manager left him to walk into the front of the bank, and Remy stood up from where he was waiting on a bench. “Hey, there, stranger!” he teased. “What did they say?”

“Oh, God, let’s get to the car first, okay?” Emile said. “You’re going to freak.”

“That much?” Remy laughed. They left and got into the car, Remy looking over at Emile. “So what was it? One hundred fifty thousand, like your parents said?”

“Apparently...my parents low-balled the estimate,” Emile said, sounding slightly hysterical. “I have over two hundred fifteen thousand dollars in that account.”

“What?!” Remy asked, incredulous. “Emile, you’re rich!”

Emile laughed. “Apparently the bank has had much higher trust funds than even that, but yeah, I’m...I don’t understand how I got to be that lucky.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Remy asked.

“Honestly? I think I’m going to be boring and invest most of it,” Emile said.

“Get more money? Hey, no complaints from me,” Remy said. “You could quit your job and we’d be fine.”

“I’m going to keep working,” Emile said. “That money isn’t going to last forever, and if I use it towards what I want to use it for...well, that’s going to take a huge chunk of change.”

Remy looked over. “What are you thinking of using it for?”

“Possibly a house?” Emile said, driving away, slightly sheepish. “Like. Property and stuff. Health insurance. Boring things that I can suddenly afford. But I want to invest most of it first.”

“Makes sense,” Remy said with a nod.

“Would you want to quit one of your jobs?” Emile asked. “Because I can afford to pay a little more rent now, you only need one job...”

“I mean...” Remy sighed. “It would be nice to only have one job, but I don’t want you to spend any more money on me than you have to.”

“Remy, you’re my boyfriend, of course I’m going to spend money on you now that I have money to spend!” Emile insisted. “You’d better get used to it, because now that we can afford to not go to thrift shops when we wear something through, you’d better believe I’m going to offer to go to retail stores!”

Remy laughed. “Oh, we’re really rolling in it!” he crowed. “We can afford new shirts!”

“You’d better believe it!” Emile exclaimed with a laugh. When his laughter died down, he glanced at Remy. “So, did you apply for the manager position opening up?”

“Yeah, I did,” Remy sighed. “But the manager told me, point-blank, that he didn’t expect me to get it. Nothing against my work ethic, but they wanted someone who had credentials. Like, degree-in-business credentials.” Remy pulled a disgusted face. “As if I didn’t know anything that goes into managing a coffee shop.”

Emile wrinkled his nose. “That sucks.” He considered, and figured now was as good a time to poke the bear as any. “Would you want to start your own shop? In all honesty?”

“I mean, honestly? At this point? Yes,” Remy said. “Neither store is going to promote me, and I don’t want to work two jobs for the rest of my life. I don’t have the funds to buy a property, but if I saved up enough to rent, then maybe I could do my own thing.”

“Rem, you realize that I have enough money to help you on the property front?” Emile asked.

“Emile, no, I would never ask that of you,” Remy said. “I can save money on my own, I’ve been doing that for two months now. And it’s not a lot, but it can add up. If your investments are working out, maybe I can invest in the same things. I could get enough money to start up on my own. Might take a couple years, but I would get the money for the property, as well as the food and the staff and everything needed inside. I could get enough for the first few months of the shop just by saving until December, if I played my cards right.”

“Really?” Emile asked. He had been considering December for checking his funds, checking the market, and getting property for Remy to start the coffee shop. But if this lined up that perfectly, there was no way he could turn it down.

“Really,” Remy confirmed. “You don’t need impossibly huge amounts of money to start up a business if you know what you’re doing, and some of our friends are social butterflies, which means free advertising, and if I come up with my own unique recipes for the shop, and come up with coffee blends that by and large our friends like but the shops I currently work for wouldn’t be caught dead selling, well! I’d be officially in business!”

Emile laughed. “So, that’s something you want to try? You want to try to start your own shop?”

Remy deflated a little. “I want it...but can I actually do it? I mean, I could definitely run a shop, but there’s so many factors I don’t know about. I want to try, to see if I can do it, but if it fails...that’s so much money gone to waste. The biggest hurdle would be the space, and if I can afford the space to give it a try, but I can’t keep the shop afloat, that’s easily thousands of dollars down the drain.”

“Remy, if you think you can do it, I say you save up to give it a try,” Emile said. “You have the confidence and the culinary skill to keep a shop afloat. All it would take is the right advertising and the right people to find you, and you’d have business in no time at all. Go for it. We both invest our money, get the rewards and use them to fund whatever dreams both of us have.”

Remy still seemed uncertain. “I want to, Emile...I really want to. But I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of it going under.”

“If it goes under, it goes under. You get a different job so no one says ‘I told you so’ and we continue on. If you get a good enough property, we might be able to use it as an apartment of sorts,” Remy laughed at that, and Emile smiled as he continued, “It’s not the end of the world if something you try doesn’t succeed, Rem. But I think that this has a really good chance at succeeding.”

Remy nodded. “All right. I’ll save up the money and give it a try for you,” he said. “Do you know what you’re going to do with your money outside investing it?”

“I have a couple ideas, but nothing solid,” Emile said. He didn’t mention that Dice had agreed to take Emile’s job offer and was going to look for Toby. He didn’t want Remy to get his hopes up, and he definitely didn’t want Remy to demand he save the money because he thought it was a fruitless venture.

“Well, when you get some solid plans, let me know, okay?” Remy asked. “Because I want to know if we can get strawberries and blueberries for pancakes for breakfast.”

Emile laughed. “Of course, we can get more fruit. And better ingredients that aren’t just on discount. If you want, we can go shopping right now as a little celebration?”

“Sure! When do you get the money?” Remy asked.

“Couple of days,” Emile laughed. “They couldn’t afford to give me that much money all at once, because it’s a small branch and I’d be taking all of their hundred-dollar bills.”

Remy shook his head. “You’re Mister Rich Kid, now, you realize,” he said. “And you’re never living that title down, not once I let our friends know.”

“Oh, God, I hadn’t even thought about that!” Emile laughed. “Our friends could hardly believe I had a trust fund at all, let alone one that potentially had over a hundred thousand dollars! They’re all going to freak!”

“Even more than I will when this whole day finally sinks in,” Remy said sagely. “It’s going to take some getting used to, having wiggle room in case we screw up.”

Emile turned the car on the road they took to the supermarket. “It’s going to be nice, though,” Emile said. “We buy some food we don’t like, we’re not, y’know, obligated to eat all of it because that’s the only food we have for that night.”

“We can buy stupid things like movies that we don’t know if we like because we didn’t get the chance to see it in theatres,” Remy pointed out.

“We can go to see those movies in the theatre in the first place,” Emile pointed out.

“True!” Remy exclaimed. “Emile. This is. The best!”

Emile laughed.

[errthel]

Hehehe I definitely don't have requirements to finish (A short that bridges Part one of Route Two to Part two of Route Two)

The title is pretty self explanatory, but basically it's a fluff chapter in this bs full of angst~~~~~ (I just wanna be happy sometimes). This fanfiction is based off of @tri3tri 's SW AU! Tempest

A roasted turkey was placed on the round table, large (e/c) eyes marvelled at it as well as the other sides that accompanied this feast. He didn't know most of these items, but was eager to try them.

It's been at least two weeks since Lucien was brought under his grandparents care, and boy was he such a cute child when he was happy.

Hanna being a shameless grandparent, brought out the camera at every opportunity to snap a photo of this handsome young boy.

Albert being a more subdued and aloof man, he opted to instead read him textbooks that were probably not designed for his age before bedtime. Welp he has to educate the youngster one way or another right?

It was finally Thanksgiving, something Albert was keen on continuing dispite Hanna being a Japanese woman, but she doesn't mind, infact she loves Thanksgiving!

Lucien, being new to this, was amazed with the food and got small portions of everything to enjoy with his grandparents.

He stopped in the middle of eating and asked his grandparents, "Is it fine for me to be eating this? Mother and sisters... I wonder if they're alright..."

Albert quickly tells him to dispel any guilt his grandson had, "Even if that horned bastard is a monster, he probably is a king somewhere, I doubt with his twisted love for MC, will he starve her..."

"What your grandpa means to say is, don't be guilty and starve yourself, your mother will be unhappy when you do it." Hanna said with a tender smile

"Pftttt- that's not even the same thing!" the young boy pouted at his grandparents

The chatter in the family of three was even more joyful when it was only the pair. They were three people helping each other face their grief and move forward, for a better beginning.

~

"Hey, grandpa, grandma... I wanna try ballet." Lucien's suggestion brought out the doting side of the Japanese woman while bringing disbelief to her American husband

"Of course my dear! You can do what you want~ I'll look up only the best teacher for you~" Hanna said, being her shameless self while Albert, "Huh? Kid, you alright with that? You don't seem like someone who would do ballet, do you want to learn ballet to suc- Ouchh! Hanna!"

"Albert! He's six!" "You never know!"

"Aughh... they're bickering again, what did I say wrong?"

Lucien's first ballet class was something he anticipated with baited breaths and when it finally arrived, he was enthusiastic to do it.

He has a glowy aura around him as he learned the basics and learned that he was actually quite flexible unlike Malleus fortunately.

Having fun with the other two males in the class, he learned that they were forced to take ballet because their sisters were also taking up ballet, but meeting each other, they all decided to continue on with the classes.

Lucien was able to express his grief through dance instead of bottling it up, which was something his grandparents was encouraging.

~

His first Christmas consisted of eating KFC and buying presents for his best ballet boi squad. Making presents for his grandparents, Lucien swears he saw Albert hide a few cries as he brought out a sloppily sewed bear. Hanna immediately pictured the gift she was given, and also sloppily sewed nightgown.

"Ehm! I will improve my sewing skills! So expect better ones next year!"

A few fuck ton more photos joined the album that night.

~

"This child! He's a genius! Dispite being only seven, he was able to answer quizzes for up to fifth grade correctly!" the teacher was now shaking in excitement in his seat, the child infront of him was a genius after all!

"Mhnm... praise my grandson more." Albert said bluntly, his arms crossed and his body exuding a proud aura

"Aww! How lovely Lucien! Your Mama and sisters are proud of you!" Hanna said affectionately cuddling the young (h/c) haired boy who sat in between his grandparents

His pale lips curled into a small smile as he though of his mother and sisters being proud of his achievements.

~

Dispite stopping ballet two years since he started it, he couldn't stop the creativity his mind and grandparents enabled him to explore, he branched out to dance, and then into music. Singing like an angel as his grandmother says or singing better than Hanna as his grandfather says. What could you say, he was a creative young bean, completely unlike his stoic father.

The first time he ever experienced using his magic was when he was ten, an idiotic burglar had broken into the house and tried to steal stuff from the somewhat large home. Completely unaware that if he knocked out the cooking matriarch, he would face a death even hell would fear.

Lucien's anger would know no bounds, inherited from his grandparents and he thoroughly punished the burglar before giving him to Albert who further punished the burglar before giving him to the authorities, who wonder how savage the two men of the large beautiful home down the road.

Hanna would be taken care of by the two boys in her life, Albert cooking food while Lucien takes care of her, this goes on even long after she recovers.

I think it's pretty obvious that this fic will forever revolve around Lucien, I hope no one's angry with that because, yeah, I don't have a reason for making this Lucien-centric other than my blatant simping over this boi.

Thou simpeth for thy boi with (h/c) locks.

[tarithenurse]

Orphan - 5

Starring:  Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Good intentions, awkwardness, feels. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

5. Tea and Fate

There’s a fuzziness enveloping your mind that makes everything appear to happen at a slower pace than usual, voices distant and warped. You have to force every movement before your body begrudgingly accepts to carry it out, clumsily too, so it’s a miracle you don’t break anything before breakfast is over. At least the two big kids seem to be similarly slow this morning. Why’s he so hyper? Glancing at the little Nathaniel over your cup of coffee, it strikes you as unnatural how he can be so cheerful, constantly babbling about the things he is planning to do during the day as he bounces on the chair.

“– and then can we go down t’the creek and catch tadpol’th? You wanna come, [Y/N]?”

Huge, pleading eyes are staring at you and suddenly it makes sense when people talk about puppy eyes because not even a golden retriever would be able to reach the levels of cuteness the sticky, noisy kid just achieved. Scrambling for words (preferably a nice way to turn him down), you find yourself stuttering and mumbling before Laura saves you.

“There won’t be any tadpoles now, sweetie. It’s fall, and they’ve all grown up into toads and frogs.” She glances at you with an apologetic smile. “And I think, perhaps, [Y/N] needs a bit of time to get used to being here.”

What I need is a nap. Instead of saying it, you just nod with an attempt at a noncommitting smile that might not have amounted to anything more than a grimace of questionable characteristic. A nap and a plan.

 …   Morgan   …

Uncle Rhodes and mommy have gone into the kitchen and shut the door, leaving Happy as the only entertainment.

“I’m booooooored!” Morgan mutters, mainly to herself because the first attempts at getting the gummy-bear of a man to play with her have failed already. “Can I go play on my own?”

It takes a moment for him to react. “Huh? What, yeah…just stay in the house, ‘kay bug?”

She answers with a cheer and a wave, already bouncing up the stairs to fetch her favourite teddy bear and the space stone from aunt Nebula – you never know what you’re going to need when going on an adventure (even if it’s indoors).

…

Someway or other, Morgan doesn’t quite know how, the exploration has brought her to daddy’s work room where the broad table hums invitingly. He never keeps any of his tools in the house, they’ve all been banished to the shed except this one and all the boring books and papers. Sure enough. Resting the chin on the edge of the humming piece of furniture, she can see a stack of folders on one side and a few scraps with scribbles and lines looking like a robot…or a dog.

Daddy’s things aren’t toys. Crawling up into the soft swivel chair, she enjoys a few rounds before allowing the two treasures to take part in the joy of the secret carousel…now and then stealing a glance between the messy strands of hair at the table. Not toys.

He has used it so many times even with Morgan around. A pat in that corner. A wave of the hand. Blue light fills the room in the middle of the day, making the girl think of the swimming pool at grandma’s and grandpa’s.

“Hello, Morgan.”

The voice is so nice and sweet even if the little girl just did something she isn’t supposed to. “Hi, Fwiday.” Morgan doesn’t blush. Almost never.

“What can I help you with, sweetheart?”

The answering question pops out all on its own. “Where’s dad? Mom keeps cwying ‘cause he’s gone.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

 …   Reader   …

You had never quite imagined that you’d be doing a conference call with a handful of heroes while sitting on the hood of an old John Deere in a barn. There’s a shit ton of things I’ve never imagined. Looking over at Clint, sprawled in the seat and with the feet up on the steering wheel, you could almost be lulled into a sense of calm. That things aren’t completely deranged.

Time and again, you’ve felt like an amateur ice dancer trying to keep your life in balance despite the odds so you shouldn’t be feeling as lost as you do. And still…this time you have no counterweight, no place to call home and no person to guide you through the fog. The voices are familiar, in some twisted kind of way, talking gently as if that magically will calm your nerves…but they don’t know how it does exactly the opposite because they sound condescending just like the overbearing social workers and potential adoptive parents that turned you down for no other reason than being too old. For not looking enough like them that you could pass as their “real” kid on a photograph.

“She’s gotten a copy of the files,” Rhodes is explaining, “to go over with her attorney.”

To see if I’m good enough, if she really has to be stuck with me? “Why?” The question leaves the line silent. “I’m not asking for inheritance…or to be part of her life! I just...”

The sympathetic look Clint gives you is almost worse than the unanswered questions and you close your eyes to it. Deep breaths. Pictures of Tony Stark dance in your mind together with memories of your mother, each of them sporting features that you would be able to point out when looking in a mirror. Like when I was a kid.

Time and again, before the aliens attacked New York, you had conjured up an imaginary world where you had both a mom and a dad – the latter being none other than Tony Stark. In that world, you all lived together, and your mom would say that you had her looks and your dad’s smarts which would make him laugh and pull both of you into a hug. In that fairy-tale –

A hand brushes your arm gingerly, waking you with a start from the reveries – lost long ago in the smouldering rubble of a tiny apartment – to find Clint’s face a foot from yours. Keen eyes study every twitch of the brow, maybe even counting the blackheads on your nose, and you pull back in annoyance.

“Y’okay there?” he asks low enough that people listening in won’t hear.

What do you care? “Sure.” Clearing you voice, it’s all you can do to return the attention to the phone. “As I said…I just needed to know if it was true.”

“If need be, would you be willing to do a DNA-test?” You already recognize the voice as the Hulk’s.

A non-committal shrug before you realize they can’t see it. “Sure.”

…

From your spot on the bed on the second floor, you can look out over the field stretching towards the forest. Everything is drenched, covered by sheer greyness that makes the grasses bow and the fallen leaves stick to each other as if hoping the wind won’t be able to move them. The sun is setting somewhere beyond this drab world, but no colours of rose gold and purple reach this far to warm your body now the layers of borrowed clothes and a musty blanket don’t cut it.

You can hear the bubbling giggle that erupts sporadically from Nathaniel. This time you hear Cooper too, a boyish version of his mother…when he can drag himself out of the teenage moods, at least. He’s not that bad, according to your limited experience of kids in full families, just kind of sullen with a tendency to walk away when bothered. Like whenever I enter the room. He’d barely stayed in the seat to finish breakfast. At lunch he’d walked in, seen you, and declared not to be hungry before leaving.

Some people might think it was a relief that Lila sat through the meal, but the glaring was tough to ignore. What’ve I done to them? Your eyes prickle dangerously, and your nose is close to dripping too, callously ignoring the deep breaths and stubborn, unspoken promises that you don’t care. I don’t. It’s not like you haven’t gone through these things before back when you were their age, finding kids scowling at you for no apparent reasons. It’s better than pity. There’s plenty of that to go around and –

*knock knock*

Startled by the sound, body trying to crawl in on itself to feel small and inconspicuous, you hold your breath in the hopes that you heard wrong, but it happens again. Slow but resolute knocking.

“[Y/N]?” Even though she’s rarely spoken to you, the voice of Lila is easily recognizable. “Can I…is’t okay if I c’m’in?”

I’m an adult. I gotta act like one. Any wetness by the eyes is hastily rubbed away. “Sure.” Clear and steady.

The door creaks after ears of disuse, allowing the appearance of the back of Lila’s shoulder as she slides the elbow off the handle. Huh? The moment there’s room, she turns to reveal a little tray with two enormous cups of something steaming and a little tray of cookies. A shy smile, shoulders carefully rising before being lowered with a newfound confidence as you return the silent greeting by making room on the bed for the girl.

Outside, the rain fights to break the grey haze obscuring the world but in reality adding to it. The flaming colours that had managed to maintain a desperate hold on the twigs so far are disappearing in an early dusk. A moment ago that misery had your attention, resonating within, now it’s chased away by an awkward, lanky girl sitting cross-legged before you while apologizing for the lack of milk.

“Hey! It’s okay,” you manage to interrupt her at a break for air, “I’ll drink it any which way, so thanks…”

“Good, good…”

Drops pummel the window. Tea scent heats your faces causing a new flush to be added to Lila’s cheeks. Good tea, as if that’s the reason you feel guilt gnawing for the negativity against the girl…a negativity that evaporates like the steam curling above the hot liquid.

“I’m sorry,” Lila admits, and you’re not sure why even though you have an idea, “I…Cooper and me…” For a moment all her attention seems to be on the cookie she steeps in the mug. Seems. “I’ve been a jerk, haven’t I?”

Alright! Up front now! “Maybe. I guess I’ve been too...” Sharing a glance you recognize some of Clint in the way she takes in every detail. “So this is like…a truce? Ceasefire?”

“Hoped so.”

You can’t hug it out with her. There’s been too many fake hugs in your life from people who claimed they’d be there for you. Lila doesn’t promise anything except to try to be decent and that’s something you can mirror. Good thing too. You’ve got nothing else to offer.

“– they say I need to start school Monday.” Clearly, you’ve missed the start of whatever the middle Barton kid’s saying, but you can fill it out. “I’m gonna be like the only senior from my year left! Can you imagine?”

“A little, maybe. People did stare a shitlo–…sorry…a lot at uni. But hey! At least the sophomore was only surprised when I appeared on his lap. At first.”

“Nooo!” Wide eyes followed by a crinkle of amusement. “Was he hot?”

What?! That line of thought had never occurred to you. “Uhm…I don’t actually remember, I’m just glad he didn’t push me onto the floor.”

There’s a tiny snort of giggles, “Hey, welcome back! Yeet!” Her tea almost spills as she imitates the student forcibly tossing you aside.

[agoldenchain]

Family Matters

“Major Torres?”

Vincent sighed. A trickle of ash drifted down from the stub of a cigarette clenched between his teeth, shifted side to side so he could speak. “Not now.” The ash smeared, a tiny grey streak as he wiped his hand along the surface of the map, pockmarked and riddled with notes.

“Sir – “

A low, almost despairing grumble. The day these chucklefucks didn’t need his approval for every fart they pushed out, he’d celebrate. Cigars, women, a bottle of fucking champagne, if any still existed out there somewhere. “Make it quick, private.”

“There’s – there’s a woman here t’see you, sir.” One of the newer recruits, playing secretary today. Vince straightened, eyed the kid with interest. A woman? He sought them out often enough, himself, but even the stupidest raiders and junkie whores were too bright to come to him like this. And if it was a business partner, they’d know.

“Who?”

The kid hesitated. At his narrowing eyes he launched into speech. “She – she says she’s your mother, sir. Only…”

… What the fuck? His mother? He barked a scoff at that, crushing the sad remains of his cigarette underfoot. She’d have to be – Christ, pushing sixty-five, if she were alive. Not impossible, but not fucking likely. And still, from the kid’s fidgeting, there was more to this. “Spit it out, private.”

“It’s just…” The kid glanced back out over his shoulder, towards the closed security doors. “… Your rule, Major, sir. No – uh, no ghouls in the office.”

… A ghoul?

He stood. Took a long, sucking breath, expelled it through his nares as his gaze flickered from the kid to the door and back. The pause that seemed long to him must have felt like an eternity to the private, and whoever the fuck waited outside.

“Show her in.”

The kid saluted, almost fucking bowed before ducking away, down the second set of doors at the end of the hall, holding open the first to allow the stranger in. It fell shut with a clang behind him, leaving them face to face.

A stranger she was. A stranger, but familiar, too. Coulda been any fucking ghoul. The same mottled, sickly flesh, pinkish and pitted like a rotting fruit. The same glassy eyes, the withered remnants of what must have once been hair. She was short, wearing a pair of rectangular spectacles and a dress and apron that wouldn’t have looked out of place in one of those old cooking magazines.

“… Vincent?” Her voice was a croak. There was nothing familiar there, not a touch, not even as her eyes watered and she brought her hands to her chest. “It is. My Vince, mijo.”

“Mamá, huh?” He chuckled, lip climbing to bare his teeth in a sneer. “That so? You were never a looker, but Christ, dad had some standards.” Of course, there wasn’t much to remember. He was twelve, when she ran off. Images of a wide, warm bosom dusted with flour and a hand in his hair, of a chubby face and thick, dark brows he’d inherited.  The temper, too, that had become his, the days she’d lock herself away and the days she’d chase him out of the house.

There was an instant of hurt in her eyes. She shrank some, whispering. “Vincent, it’s me. I know I look different, I look – I look like a monster, but it’s still me in here, mi corazón. I’m so sorry I left you. When I came back, you were gone.”

This was a weird fucking way for someone to try and get under his skin. A prank, maybe? How much had they paid this old bat to pretend? The endearments were right, but anyone who grew up speaking a shred of Spanish would’ve known that. He’d have to figure out who, exactly, was trying to psyche him out. Show him exactly what he thought of their little practical joke.

He turned with a snicker, waved her off. “Why don’t you head on out, grandma. Find someone else to sell that sob story to.” Of course, she was still a ghoul. She wouldn’t get the chance. He’d radio one of his snipers at the gates as she left, have her dealt with somewhere her corpse wouldn’t stink up his air.

“You were gone, and your father wouldn’t tell me where. He just said you’d run away.” He paused for a moment, staring at the map on his desk. Something felt off. It fit with what he knew as truth – he’d run off at fourteen, told the Gunners he was sixteen. Fit right fucking in. If she’d come back home after that, had enough of the partying life, she’d have found him vanished. And why would dear old papi have given a shit, huh? Long as he had the booze to keep his mind off the missing leg, there could’ve been a second nuclear war, for all he cared. A creeping grin. Hell, maybe he even would’ve been proud of his boy, joining up young like he had. Like father, like son…

“You look just like him, you know. The same pretty eyes.” Christ, was this loony old corpse still here? An exaggerated sigh and he reached for the radio comm on his desk, fully ready to have her dragged out. The moment he moved, she jerked forwards, hands spread, face desperate.

“Toro!”

Half an inch from the switch, his hand fell short. Her breaths came rasping, short as she blinked back tears.

“Do you remember, mijo? Your little toy. The bull. You liked him because he was like our name, your father’s name. And your abuelo, he’d sit you on his lap and tell you stories about the old days, before the war, and you’d pretend to tame your toy, you’d throw him across the floor and chase after him laughing – “ She laughed now, too, delighted, loving. “You see? Only I would know. It’s me, Vincent, your mother.”

The room seemed to buzz. He straightened, gazed at her in silence. But his hand fell from the radio, and she wept in relief, reaching for him.

“Your father, we got caught in a radstorm, he didn’t make it but now I’ve found you, I looked for months, and finally – “ A step closer, arms outstretched. “Now we’re here, we can be a family again, we – “ She stopped short, blinking those enormous, glassy eyes. “Vince? Mijo – “

He cocked his head. “I believe you.”

Bang.

There was an instant of shock locked on her features, her one remaining eye wide before she collapsed, unceremoniously, to the floor. A sigh. Fuck’s sake. That was going to be a mess, and his office would never smell the same. Could’ve sent her out like he planned, let one of his boys deal with her, but this was his mother, after all. He owed her that much, he figured. Be a little cold to let anyone else do her in. Family matters were best kept in-house.

He flipped the switch. “Hansen! Get someone in here with a fucking mop.”

[francisdominictan]

________________________________________________________________ I always caught myself reading books about creatures of the unknown. It started probably when I was a young kid and would watch documentaries series about aliens, elemento, Bigfoot, and the likes.

Because of that I earned my fair shares of names and bullying in school due to my obsession. Like a good freshman I pushed up my glasses and disregarded it and moved onto college where I earned degree in Zoology and eventually masters and now PhD. Along the way I had discovered the things life had to offer; women, gym, sex, alcohols, and other things. Though, my first love was cryptozoology.

Together with famous scientists, zoologists, and marine biologists, we’re looking for new species and studying others of whom, we knew very little. I spent my late 20’s traveling around the globe. My colleagues and I found new insects, birds, reptiles, but none would fall into the strange or imaginary. In the scientific community, I made myself a name. I might find anything except Bigfoot, people liked to say. I enjoyed my little popularity.

I chose to work somewhere more conventional after those exciting years. As it was fun to create footprints around the world, I was sick of never being in one place over a couple of weeks. I would also like to spend more time to try to find these storied creatures than work on someone else's expedition.

I ended up teaching in the department of biology in a major state university in Northern part of Mindanao in the Philippines. I also started a club in cryptozoology that attracted a large number of students. I would take students to the alleged unearthly places, hot spots of unknown animals, and the likes with permission from the university. We always have a documentary of our trip; a blurred video and a grainy picture. It was enjoyable for the students and me. We never had any definitive information, but it helped them to think outside the box about what our world really is. My curiosity in it was a deep passion for trying to find the elusive that I want to witness.

Like I said before, my first love is cryptozoology until one foundation day of the University. I met Nap there.  She was this beautiful brown haired woman about my age, who taught creative writing in the English department. I knew that I instantly fell for her. I'm not now the scrawny nerd from high school anymore. I was fit, effective in my profession, and not too bad looking (I told myself that, at least).I used a corny pickup to show myself. We've smiled, spoke the whole party and exchanged number, and the rest is history.

We moved in together a few months after we began dating. We had many shared interests, but there were also many differences. She preferred to stay in, and I enjoyed the outside. She was more reserved and I was the extrovert. But we both liked a good book and wine. She’s also a writer who particularly likes to write about simulated creatures, which is why we clicked.

“Nap,” I said closing and setting aside her newest book as I lounged out on the sofa in our living room one night. “Did I already told you that you are an excellent writer?”

She was in our room folding the ‘fresh from the laundry’ clothes. “You already did. But I won’t mind if you tell me again,” she playfully responded.

“I’m wondering, where did you get your inspirations for these stories?”

She came towards me. I corrected my sitting and she sophistically took a seat to me. “I got them from my grandmother’s story.”

“Tell me more, please,” I said with agog evident on my face.

“With my cousins,” she began with a look of commemoration on her face, “Each summer, we would visit my grandmother in the Visayas. She was living in a Remote Village neighborhood. Many people haven't been there. It was a lovely town shaded by the dense canopies of the tree. Between the town and the nearest mountain, there was a large forest. Perhaps it was about a few hundred acres. Glassy lake, filled with fish and that emptied into a small river can be found at the base of the mountain. All children in the town would play in the wood, the river and the lake, yet past sunset was strictly forbidden. The town’s people, including my grandma, have strictly implemented this.”

“Continue,” I encouraged her with a smile.

“So my grandmother told me about the forest fairies and how they liked to trick people. They'd take me away forever if I disobeyed my elders. Such tales have always been disturbing to me. My parents didn't like that, but they agree that I should be inside before dark. The stories didn't get me too much worry, until one of the young boys I was playing with got missing in the woods. One night after a fight with his father, he ran away into the forest. They never found him, and the people of the town did not bother to look for him until after sunrise. I can't just believe that people would not go in the forest looking for the boy until it was sunrise, except that they all really believed in the fairies. My books contain fairies that are scary but are much better than those in the tales of my grandma. They never took people away.”

She raised her one eyebrow and asked, “It is your kind of thing, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked at her, frowning.

“You know… The unexplained creatures of the dark.” She looked at me with a smart-ass grin.

“Well, I heard and read about fairy folklore, but many cryptozoologists don't spend a long time on it. I never heard of a city that is fearful of fairies, particularly from an account on the first hand. Anything like that should be investigated.”

A vexatious grin stretching from ear to ear plastered on Nap’s face.” Very Good! My parents would like to meet you and I'd like you to meet them. When I was young, my grandmother died and my parents inherited the house. And a couple of years ago they retired. This summer, you can come with me and solve the fairy problem of the town.” She stood over me and gave me the puppy eyes to agree.

Like this, our summer plans were drawn up, and in early March, with Nap and a bag filled with my recording equipment, we booked a plane ride from Cagayan to Siquijor located in Central Visayas. Once there, we hired a rental car and drove into the forest mountains, which felt like hours. We left the winding road for an even hazardous two-lane mountain road. After 15 minutes, we reached at what looked like a ghost town. Several small businesses were shut down and looked like an unfinished hotel in the 1960s.

We pulled into the driveway of her parent a couple of minutes later. Her parent’s house was sitting in a few dozen houses on a short dead end road. The dark, majestic forest that she described to me lies behind her home. A majestic moon hidden by the cumulus cloud loomed in the distant background.

Her parents greeted us at the door with a smile. Nap kissed her mom and dad with excitement. I tried to cover my nerves and for the first time met my girlfriend's parents, shook their hands quickly and introduced myself as Francis, the man who was here to solve their fairy problem. Before saying through their teeth, they both smiled and paused, “Come now. The dinner is about ready.”

My awkward attempt to be funny seemed to be an outrage. Dinner went well and we spoke about our trip and what I've done at work. With our bellies full, Nap’s father invited me on to the rear porch for a beer.

"So you are a university professor of cryptozoology?” Nap’s father asked until he took a big swig of beer from his bottle.

"No, I'm teaching animal behavior and social interaction. I'd like to teach cryptozoology, but before I can, I need a written and approval of the curriculum." I sat in my porch chair and started enjoying my beer.

"I guess Nap told you a lot of insane fairy tales in our forests?" I took another sip from my bottle and looked at him and nodded a bit. "Everything’s real. Sounds dumb, but the whole thing is true. Those stories have been told by my wife, and I wouldn’t believe them if I had not seen a crazy thing or experienced that one night. Our neighbor's niece disappeared in that forest two summers ago.” He pointed at the wooden line right at the back of his yard and takes a second swig from his bottle.

“You want to see a magic trick?” He asked me excitedly.

"Um, sure," I said half waiting for him to take the coin out from behind my ear.

"Look at the back door. Today's sunrise is around 21:00. The lock will pop up around this time and it will swing open. No hands." He responds shaking his hands upward.

The courtyard of Nap’s parent was closed with one back door that leads directly into the forest. Some of the branches of the forest trees hang over the entrance. I didn't know how to take the statement from Nap’s dad. So I've been waiting. Behind the mountains, the sun slowly crept and the clock reached 21 pm.

As we sat silently in the back porch, I finished my beer. I was about to get up and let Nap’s father know it was the longer trick that I had ever been waiting for, the scraping sound caught my ear from the opposite side of the fence.

It started at the rear of the valley. It sounded like a child dragging a stick over his pickets while he was walking. Towards the gate the sound intensified. I concentrated on the gate and didn't pay attention to Nap and her mother, who had gone with us to the deck. The door latch went Ching and the gate slowly swayed as if softly pushed by an unseen force.

"No way," I murmured, as I started to walk away slowly from the deck to the back gate. I was pulled up on the deck by a powerful hand. I whipped my head around to see Nap’s father violently grab my wrist.

He said with a stern voice and look. "Don't go over there," he said.

Nap pulled me out of her dad. "Mom, dad… stop." She turned to me and said, "Tomorrow, I'm going to take you into the woods. It's all right. You are going to see.” She turned back into the house and graciously marched.

"All you want during the day, you can go into the forest, but once the sun sets you have to come back," Robert cut me off before I could go in. I stopped and looked at him. His face was genuinely anxious. Nap’s mother has the same look on her face.

I agreed and that, as Nap’s parents insist upon being away from the woods after darkness, I came inside feeling a little confused.

That evening Nap and I prepared for bed and she laid her head on my chest. I tried to work together if her family had really believed in "fairies" and if their facial concern was sincere earlier.

"Doesn’t your family really believe in the fairies?" I ask Nap.

She turned around and put up her head in front of me.” "It's humiliating, not because they really believe in this, but because they’re so strongly confident that the woods are a bad place. I would have run into the woods many times if I had been rebellious as a kid. When I was a child, they started to act as my grandmother. I don't know how the gate trick is done by my father, but it gets older. Two years ago he pulled it on me, saying it wasn't him.”

The more she spoke, the more annoyed Nap became. "Tomorrow, I will bring you to the woods. You’ll see. As a child, I used to play there. Nothing's wrong with it.

I firmly held her to my side, gently kissed her. "Ok, we'll go to have an adventure tomorrow." I said before dozing off

After breakfast Nap took me into the forest the next morning. She showed me everything she had been able to remember from her childhood. She showed me her favorite trails, which had slightly become overgrown. She showed me her favorite river spot and her favorite lake shore. Here and there, the lakeshore was littered with dead fish but oddly no trace of rotting fish.

An old foundation to a building that never began was on the lakeshore. Nap said in the 60's it was intended to be a lodge for tourists but it was never done. The crumbling foundation was covered in moss, and looked more than anything else like a pathetic version of Stonehenge.

It was about noon and we decided to go back into the woods to have some lunch at the house of her father. As we walked hand in hand through the woods on trails I was surprised she was still able to navigate memories from her childhood. I noticed the mahogany were almost all brown or brownish green. Their trunks were rather large, even swollen, as if they were stuffed with something, and most of the underbrush was dead or seemed as if it were dying.

Nap reported that the summer and spring of the last few years had been little rain. I thought it was odd that the forest was going to dry out but the river and the lake didn't seem to be at low levels.

Robert brought the subject of cryptozoology and my interest, “Have a chat with John Salon. He is town detective, who lives down a few streets. He is also the last of a tribe who lived here once. He's kind of an amateur historian for the region and has lots of stories to share about the woodland fairies. I'll call him and tell him that you're coming over. "Robert gave me his address and that afternoon, at Nap’s encouragement, I went to his house as Nap and her mother planned to go shopping in the next town.

I knocked on John’s door. The lock unlatched and the door slowly opened revealing an older man.

“Are you John?” I stick out my hand for handshake.” I’m Francis Tan and..-“

“You want to know about the fairies at the woods?” He said cutting me off. “Robert already told me about you. Please come in. I have only few hours before I need to head to work to cover a night shift.”

I walked into his house. It was huge and packed with mounted animals, fish and a number of what seemed to be memorabilia from farther south. He led me to his living room, and guided me to sit down. His living room walled by filing cabinets and bookshelves on all sides. There was no TV, and the most surfaces were caked with a thick layer of dust.

"So what can I tell you," said John, slowly taking a seat in the chair opposite me.

"Well, whatever you know about the forest, or the supposed forest monsters," I started. "I'm researching unknown beings, mythological creatures, or whatever you want to name them, and I'm familiar with folklore fairies, but I've never seen a whole town that seemed to fear these monsters."

For a moment, John leaned back and looked up at the ceiling, as if to recall his thoughts.

"My tribe was the first to settle that area, or rather my ancestors. We were once, as the oral tradition goes, a large and proud tribe that had great numbers in Siquijor long before the Spanish came. A harsh winter run and war with other tribes cut down our numbers and our enemies drove us out of our original land. We wandered around until we found the place. Cold, hungry and desperate for shelter, we felt blessed to have found a place with good hunting, the mountains to shelter us, and a river and lake to provide fresh water for us.”

I looked eagerly at him, as he took a little break to remember his words. He sat up in his chair, and leaned forward.

"Some strange creatures that lived here prevented us from entering the forest. My people would call them Engkantos. They said that they were here before, guarding the forest. The chief seeing his people starving and having no place to live struck a deal with the creatures from the forest. We could hunt fish, stay here and they'd protect us as long as we agreed to give them one of our own once every moon cycle.”

"Wait," I cut. "So ...... just like a sacrifice?”                            

"Yes" continued John. "We'd send one person into the forest each full moon. The cries will fill the sky of the night. It was a terrible thing but the chief made the offer for us to live and we stuck to it. Many years passed, as we lost ourselves one after another. Our numbers would gradually decrease over time, but those who remained had hunting food and fresh water.”

John got up from his seat and walked up to his bookshelf, pulling out a leather bound book, the edges were yellowed from age.

"This book," he said, "Contains all the stories about Engkantos that have been passed down to my tribe from generation to generation. When I was young, I had started writing them down before they all died. I'm the last one and I thought somebody could record it so others could know what we've been experiencing.”

"When the Spanish came into our land, it all changed. It was one man at first. He was an explorer. We didn't consider him a threat so we let him pass. However, he did find gold in the water and he told other people. Eventually many others turned up in the river looking for gold. They brought crucifix, meats, beads, and weaponry and taught us religions. They were willing to trade for small pieces of land so that they could prospect in here. We consented. The prospectors supplied us with new stuff and we were exchanging small parcels of land for them. The Spanish people cut down trees to make the clearing that now sits out of town. They constructed houses. They fished and hunted. Each full moon, we no longer sent one of our own to the forest.”

"So the sacrifices stopped because you got necessity from the settlers?" I asked. "What about the creatures that you deal with?”

"We lived alongside the Spanish in harmony," John began again. "There was rage among the Engkantos because we broke our deal. They'd watch us in the shadows, from the tree line. The extreme fury could be felt. One night, several prospectors who were fishing the lake in the forest came late. One of them was taken violently by the Engkantos upfront the others. Their screams had filled the air of the night. The survivors did flee and never came back. They left their possessions and even their money for they were so frightened. Those who had been past dark in the woods soon began to disappear. No trace was found.”

John sat down and breathed deeply. "As people began to flee the woods after dark, they tried to trick people into going into the woods. During the night they would imitate the sounds of kids or loved ones. Anyone who enters into the woods would be taken. They took our tribe's three mothers once because the creatures were crying out on the forest line like children. The women fled to save the "babies" only to be killed. They only took one person at a time but began to take more as revenge.”

"They can imitate voices?" I asked.

"Yeah" he began as he rubbed his head. "They can use anybody's voice or sound so you’d be lured into the woods.”

"Why do people still live here, then?" I asked. "If it is cursed, why not leaved?”

“My people agreed to keep this place guarded and keep people from going here. They made a deal and broke it. But, regardless of what they did or said, the word still made it out about the fishing and hunting or gold in the river. People would come and they would vanish. A party heard about fishing, and tried to build a lodge on the shore on the lake. All are gone. We were trying to warn them but they were calling us crazy. This town and forest has only recently gone unnoticed by the outside. In the last 10 years there have been only a few disappearances.”

"I saw the foundation." I sat up in the chair as I got drawn more and more into his stories.

John got up and walked to one of his filing cabinets. He pulled a black binder full of paperwork.

"Here," he said with a motion to take the binder.

"What is it?" I asked him as I take the big binder.

"I am in charge of all the missing people’s cases. They're all here.”

"That’s crazy," I said while opening the binder.

"Many people say I'm a useless detective. I know what happened to those people, but you can't put it on an official report and still keep your job. If you look at the reports, the pattern is the same for everyone. All of those people were last seen in the forest before darkness.”

I finished my conversation with John, as he was about to get ready for work. He had been operating from two towns on a missing person case. He let me borrow the case binder and the book about the stories of his family.

The next day after taking Nap over to the next town for breakfast, I went door to door asking people what they knew about the creatures. Many hesitated to speak with me until I explained who I was, what I believed, and that I intended to study what was happening. I had been warmly welcomed into their homes.

People in the town had a vast array of stories. Tales ranged from family members vanishing to hearing odd voices at night, to seeing groups of travelers vanish without trace. Many were older tales of loved ones wandering late into the forest and failing to make it out before sunset. It seemed that everybody believed in the creatures that inhabited the forest, but no one had ever seen one. An older gentleman reported that his sister had gone on an afternoon walk into the forest and never returned. He could hear her voice calling from the woods to him every night, but he doesn't dare to enter. Eventually the voice stopped.

I devoted the rest of the afternoon to taking notes on all the missing people’s cases. I just stopped kissing Nap farewell, as she and her mother left to get chico fruits in the forest. In an hour, or two, she had expected to be home. I was comfortable with her leaving as it would have been many hours before the sun had gone down.

Every case had the same set of circumstances. No clear explanation was given as to why the people were missing. News clippings placed the blame on people getting lost in the vast outback, or on the likelihood that these people could run into wild animals.

I closed the binder full of cases and sat back in my seat in the living room, exhausted after all my note taking. I took a deep breath and stood up to collect the binder and book that John had let me borrow.

I finished collecting my stuff and walked to John’s house to return his articles. He was sitting at his front porch when I arrived, still in his police uniform with a beer.

I handed the book and binder to him, and took a seat next to him.

“What do they look like?” I asked.

"Who?” John answered sitting up a little straight as if shocked by my question.

"Engkantos or the fairies or whatever you want to call them. So what do they look like? I don't have any descriptions in the text you gave me." I stood up and looked at John with a stern look.

"It's a full moon tonight. In the last ten years just a few people were lost in the woods. They are mad. You can sense them in the current. I will be retiring in two years. I have spent my life trying to find those people that were missing. During day I’m in the forest. They are difficult to see. They are very slender and tall. You can see their outline amongst the trees if you look hard. It's very hard to figure out but hundreds of them are there. They're not going to move until dark but you can look among the tree line and see them standing still, even now.”

John pointed from to the woods that were across the road. I looked hard but in the fading light, I could see nothing but trees. I thanked him for his time and resources, and made my way back to the fading light of Nap’s parents ' house. The sun had set, and a cool breeze swept across the road and into the woods as if the forest itself were breathing in. I walked down the broken sidewalk looking into the dark trees to see if I could get a glimpse of what John had described. The moon was full and bright. With a slightly bluish hue, it seemed almost like day out. There was no echo. No crickets. No animals scratching. The night air was packed with just the wind and my footsteps.

"FRANCIS!!!!!"A scream of blood-curdling echoed just inside the line of the trees.

That voice. I knew that voice. It was from Nap. The hair on my neck was standing up straight. My heart started pounding with a violent fervor. Nap and her mother hadn't come back when I left. What if she did not make it from the woods? What if they hurt her? What if they had taken her?

"FRANCIS!!!!"The scream echoed again. This time it sounded as though she was in anguished agony.

I was twenty yards deep in the woods before realizing what I was doing. My eyes agitatedly scanned everywhere. "NAP!" I screamed. Only dead silence. The moon was so vivid that from the light shining through the tree branches I could make out almost everything. "NAP!”

I was breathing through my mouth. My breaths matched my heart's tempestuous pace. I stood in silence. I looked closely at the thick canopies before me. My vision spotted movement. I'm not alone. There was movement but I could not see exactly what it was. It didn't make any noise whatsoever and it seemed opaque, almost invisible. As if opaque forms melded into reality from nowhere.

They were the height of man. The skin was pale. Their legs, arms, and body structure were thin. Their skin looked dry and it was ridging like worms. A head was in the shape of large white sideways cones with no features but a small black hole in the forehead.

My muscles tensed as pure terror flows through me. I couldn't move. I was awestruck and was filled with terror. There were dozens of those things before me. They all looked the same appallingly. I wanted to run but I couldn't. One slowly moved toward me. It stopped 20 ft away from me. It was dead quiet. My heart shook so hard that I could hear it.

The hole at the front of his head was growing bigger as if something were pushing out of it. Like the peeling of a sausage casing this thing's skin pulled back and the head of a young woman seems to be out of the black.

My jaws dropped. I felt my heart was beating in my ears. Her hair looked black and greasy. Her eyes were ovals black. Her skin blenched. She stares at me. It felt like an eternity as I looked upon at this monstrosity. She opened her mouth.

"Francis," she spoke. I recognized that voice. It was Nap’s. Confusion took over. The woman head on this creature bent sideways in a horrible way while staring at me with a blank expression.

"Francis... Francis... Francis..." Nap’s voice echoed more frequently and more intensely. Then from her mouth burst an ear shattering maniacal laugh. My face was strewn with tears as my lips began to shake. It stopped. The woman's face split from jaw to forehead in half spreading from side to side as if it had been cut by, exposing a mass of razor-sharp teeth and flailing tentacles like tongues.

The creature shrieked. It was so high pitched and growling that it shook the forest and buzzed my ears. I fell on my back and for the first time since I saw the entity, I could now move. I amokly shuffled my legs backwards to propel me away from the entity. The creature fell to all fours, and then charged me as inhumanly as possible. I realized that there was no way I could get up and out run it in time. It was about to consume me. I put my hand up to cover my lip.

"No!" I cried as I looked away. Nothing. I didn’t feel any pain. There was no creature landed upon me.

"FRANCIS... MOM... DAD... NOOOO!!!!" It sounded like a scream from Nap, but this time it sounded like it came from her home's direction. I got up straight away trying to understand what was going on. The creatures had gone but something moved violently away from me in the underbrush, tearing up ground and shaking branches as it went.

"Ana, NO! “Another voice resounded. It was owned by Robert. I was still confused and afraid but I wasn't going to stay any longer in this woods. I raced to Nap’s parents’ house as fast as my legs could manage.

Robert restrained Ana who was sobbing in the backyards, "Let me go... Let me go..."

"She's already gone. They might also take you,' replied Robert, hugging his wife with all his might.

“What happened?” I commanded.

"Oh my God, Francis," said Robert in horror, turning to me. "Nap swore that she heard you scream in the woods, and ran after you. We tried to get her to stop."

In the distance, a cry of Nap’s agony rang out. My fear and the rush of adrenaline transformed into rage. They took my wife. Those hideous things took the woman I loved. I went to the garage without thought, and scooped up the gas can that Robert filled up earlier in the day. I searched the garage frenzied, and found a torch of propane on the shelf. I quickly made my way through their backyard to the tree line.

"Robert, hold this," I ordered while shoving the lighter propane into his arms.

I started to pour the gas on the trees carelessly, and the brush along the forest line.

“What are you doing?” he asked with a puzzled look on his face.

I looked at him dead in the eye and coldly stated, “Give me the torch. I'm taking the woods from them, if they want to take her.”

He gave the torch that I just forced him to hold reluctantly.

The woods were dry. The wind blew in through the forest. I opened the valve for propane, lit a torch and threw it into the brush. There was a towering hell ahead of me in seconds. Robert and Ana were stunned by what I had just done. The fire burned fast and moved faster. Soon the whole town stood on the road, watching the forest they knew about consumed by blaze. With rage in my eyes, I stood still between them.

Suddenly, horror and pain filled the air with inhuman shrieks. They were like a knife cutting other people's ears. The people of the town tightly held their ears to block the screams. Most ran home in terror or grabbed each other for protection.

The shouts resonated tumultuous as the fire burned until suddenly the shouts ceased and only the blaze could be heard.

The fire department was called by someone who warned the forest guards. They couldn't do anything. The fire spread so quickly that the whole forest was burnt to the ground before a plan was drawn up. I admitted that I was the one starting the fire and was arrested by the police that night.

With little or no human contact, I was in prison for three days. The police were going through the office in an uncomfortable way as though they had more work than they could handle. They ignored and only fed me and checking on me before night.

John was there to welcome me when I woke up in my jail cell on the third morning.

I said groggily, "Good morning."

He opened the cell. “You’re free to go, Francis.” He nods at me to follow him. “Come with me." I got up and did as he requested. "They found Nap."  

"Is she all right? Is she hurt?" I asked delighted.

“She had some burns, cuts, bruises, suffered from some inhalation of smoke, and she seems to be in shock but is alive.”

“Thank God!” I shouted.

The car ride to the hospital was an hour or so. During our way over, John explained that I was now the least of the problems the town had to deal with. None of the town's houses got damaged. The wind blew the fire the opposite way. Search and rescue teams searched the forest at night and found Nap on the lake shore early in the morning. She was naked and shocked but alive.

The biggest problem the town had to tackle was the hundreds of skeletons discovered in the forest. They weren't scattered around like the victims of a forest fire. The burnt-out trunks of the narra trees contained dozens of skeletons, as if stuffed into the trees. John showed me a picture he'd taken at one of the scenes on his phone. The picture showed a tree trunk that looked bloated and had been burned out. Inside the bark you could clearly see a human skeleton contorted with the tree growing around it in horrible fashion. What appeared like wooden bark threads fused into the skeleton, as if they formed together. Some of the skeletons were identified as missing people in the woods in the 1900’s. Others had been estimated to be centuries old.

At the hospital, John dropped me off and I made my way to Nap’s room. Here were her parents. She was swollen and wounded but lying in her bed looking ahead, agape mouth, not blinking at all. She turned towards me slowly as I came in, not blinking. When our eyes met she started sobbing. I rushed to her, and warmly embraced her.

"They've took me," she said with heavy sobbing. "They ripped my clothes and tried to put me in there."

"Where?" I asked fighting off my own tears as I kept holding her closely.

"In the forest... In the trees," she said sobbing. "They feed the forest with us. The forest was dying and it starved to death.”

No other word was spoken. I just hugged her close, until she stopped sobbing.

With the forest gone, a development company bought all the land and turned it into homes. To my knowledge, no one has since disappeared. There are some rumors that the place is haunted and that odd voices and cries can still be heard at night.

The night of the fire, my camera was recording. I looked at the video once before deleting it. My voice can be heard in frightened tone calling Nap’s name. One can see Nap running into the woods calling for me. As she disappears beyond what the camera can see, there is a voice that giggles like a little child and then, in a raspy high voice, states, "We take." The brush all around is shifting quickly towards where Nap was last seen until her cries can be heard.

[santanuborgohain]

Episode 1

Having stuffed an omelette with few pieces of crispy potato chips inside a bun I was about to gobble it up but right then, the doorbell had chimed annoyingly. It was early in November. The ordeal of having to spend a reluctant Monday-morning in Pune had already started with the new dawn. Gunjan, my host, was out for work and his corny apartment in Koregaon Park was confiscated by me.

The sweeper boy seldom used to come at that time to collect the dustbin-treasure. I always have the audacity to open the door without even peering out through the peephole despite knowing the fact that most of the sweeper boys turn out to be the murderer at length—which the eternal episodes of Crime Petrol have taught us from our very childhood. I was in my best attire that day: wearing but the only towel wrapping up around my waist for a frugal sauna bath. The doorbell had been hooted for the third time. I opened the door and encountered a someone who, for sure, wasn't coming for the dustbin.

“Yes?”

“Do you have that lighter?” she asked looking straight into my eyes. Such an encounter was never expected. I was, wearing the only towel, standing shirtless in front of a stranger exposing my emaciated physique. She was tall. Demurred in a silky white night suit, tucking her hands inside the pockets standing right in front of me.

Her pierced nose was embellished with a tiny nose-jewel and there was a small dot-like mole right beneath the edge of her lower lip. Her dark black eyes were constantly staring straight into my eyes which rather had taken me aback. I did notice everything with an astute observation at just one go. Damn! I was clueless.

“Lighter?” she asked again, this time knitting her eyebrows.

“Lighter?” I asked her back, surprised, holding a half eaten bun with potato chips jutting out of it, and of course, not knowing actually what to say. I chewed the remnant of whatever little food that was already stuffed inside my mouth and the crunchy sound of the chips did seriously made the situation a little bit more awkward.

“Never mind.” she entered my house (okay, my friend’s house) almost shoving the door and I did nothing but stood still like a dumbass still wrapping the only goddamn towel. She stumbled through the table, pulled out the drawer and created a hell lot of mess. How could she just do that ignoring my existence in this house? I wondered. But that was just a beginning. Then she pulled out the couch, shuffled the newspapers and magazines, the mattress of a bed and started wrecking havoc in the entire room. Finally she found whatever she was searching for so long—the lighter. The degree of my impatience was rising to an extreme level. All I wanted her to leave at no time. She pulled two cigarettes out of the packet and offered me one.

“No, Thanks.” I shook my head clumsily, trying to magnify the mere nuisance which I was bearing for this long.

“As expected.” she mumbled and hastily stepped out of the room. Huff, I exhaled a sigh of relief. Before I could shut the door she turned back. Christ, not again. I thought.

“Nice legs by the way.” she added and that sort of mockery was completely unnecessary. And then she entered the elevator. What the bug! I shut the door with a thud and took a vow of not to open the door until and unless there is a confirmation of the outsider. Bitch! How does Gunjan bear such a lousy neighbor? Before the doorbell would chime again, I whizzed off to the bathroom and took a lazy shower.

                                                     _____

“That was a living tsunami I saw today, you see.” I narrated the whole thing when Gunjan arrived later that evening, quite exaggerating the whole mess which she had created. He seemed to be cared absolutely nothing about it and on the contrary, he cracked out laughing like a nitwit.

“So she’s back, eh?”  he wondered.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Nothing, I mean, yeah, welcome to Pune, bro!” He kept on laughing stuffing the water bottles inside the fridge.

“Duh!”

“She’s like the monsoon rain you know; comes to Pune once a year.”

“She seemed to be the hurricane instead.” I said.

“She’s nice by the way.”

“Whatever.” I said.

“So, didn’t you like her?”

“Negative.”

“Don’t you want to know who she is?” asked Gunjan with such a contorted facial expression for which even I began to doubt myself for a second if somehow I knew her.

“Definitely she isn’t the Queen Elizabeth. Why should I bother to know about her?” I said.

“Just because of the irrefutable fact that she’s an amazing lady!”  he said.

“She’s a crazy bitch.” I said applying more gravity to the word ‘crazy’.

“Actually, she’s not. You gonna long for her company once you get to know her. I bet you.”

“Forget it. I’m already getting headache thinking about it.”

“Tell me, you gonna buy me beer for tonight if you get me proved that I’m wrong.” he challenged.

“Just leave that shit.” I denied.

“Well, at least let’s go and get that goddamn lighter.”

“Forget it.” I denied again.

“You do not have the guts, yeah?”

I was unknowingly biting my nails and then I stopped doing it when my guts were being questioned. “Say that again?” I said. Somewhere deep down, that sensitive thing called male ego was being hurt now.

“No, I’m not saying that you’re saying so. What I’m saying is…”

“Hold on.” I cracked my knuckles, wondered a little about what to say and then decided to bargain. “So what am I supposed to be getting if I win?”

He jumped up and sat on the couch. With all his excitement filling right up to the brim he asked “well, what do you want?”

“A car— Aston Martin DB11” I said, “and one thousand pounds in my account and a blank cheque with your…”

“Okay, hold on. Let me decide.” he cut me off without letting me finish my list of requirements. “If I lose, beer will be from my end for next seven days.”

“With complementary crispy chicken nugget. Every—Single—Day.”  I added.

“Deal!”

I accepted the challenge being so sure about the fact that I was to win. I was not to buy him any beer at any cost.

                                             ______

Both of us went to the 3rd floor. Gunjan pressed the doorbell of her room twice and we did wait more than a minute to get the door opened.

“Hey! Look who’s coming?” she was astonished to see Gunjan barely noticing my presence. She’s wearing a pair of cat eye glass and I was not pretty sure whether she was looking good with the glass or the specs itself looked good on her. “Don’t say you guys are here for the lighter.” she said and cracked out laughing. I tried to figure out what actually was so funny. She welcomed us inside. The evergreen retro of Mohammad Rafi shaab was rolling on “abhi na jao chhodkar ki dil abhi bhara nahi.” She lowered the volume of the music player.

I shot a panoramic view of her room. It was too early to judge her. Little did I know a girl like her could have a good number of eye-catching books stacked on the shelf. Some of them were piled up like a mountain in a wooden crib. It was quite beautifully decorated. A pleasant smell of aromatic candles was rafting inside the room. There was a sensual poster of Marilyn Monroe taped on the wall next to her bed and some photographs were clipped on the string lights twinkling on the corner wall.

“So… would I be wrong to assume that you brought your guest here to introduce to me?”

“Yeah, kind of. Where have you been all these days?” he asked.

She fetched a bundle of UNO cards and dropped on her reading table and then shot a sharp glance at me ignoring his question.

“We’ve already met.” she said looking at me “my goodness! I saw him naked.” and she laughed aloud cupping her face with her palms.

“No!” I protested. “I was wearing… well, a towel.” Gunjan looked at me in disbelief. I tried to decode his exaggerated facial expression which was portraying aur-ye-tu-mujhe-kab-batane-wala-tha? sort of interrogation.

“Dude, I swear” I laughed. “I was in…” I ginned stupidly.

“Just relax. I’m just kidding. That’s fine.” she said

That was not fine. Out of embarrassment I thought of getting out of her room in no time.

“What do wanna have: tea-coffee-milk shake?” she asked in banter way.

“Isn’t there any fourth option available?” Gunjan asked.

“Actually, we just came here to fetch his lighter.” I said.

“Oh I see.” she said.

Gunjan coughed. Twice.

“Well, that is her lighter indeed.” Gunjan corrected me as politely as he could. And this time I shot that same aur ye tu mujhe kab batane wala tha?glance at him with murderous rage. That was an antique metallic lighter which she inherited from her grandmother—he let me know. It was gifted to her grandma by a Portuguese lady during the period of Annexation of Goa in 1961. And god knows, prior to this, who gifted this lighter to whom generation after generation since the evolution of the mankind.

“Oh, I see. Well, actually I thought—”

“That I am a desperate chain smoker?” she said cutting me off.

“Not really.” I said.

She laughed and fetched a packet of cigarette from the drawer and started spinning on her fingers.

“I collect cigarettes for fun. I do not burn and smoke them.” she said with a pitying grimace.

“Cool.” I said and I thought how weird that was! “And you have a good collection of books too.” I shot a panoramic view of her room again. That’s what we usually do when we visit someone for first time and sometimes when we’re not so sure of what we are doing and what we should talk about.

“Yes. I do.” she smiled and went off to the kitchen.

Gunjan shot a blank look at me.

“What?” I said.

“Nothing.” he shook his head and kept quite.

“Dude, she’s not that bitchy as I thought.” I whispered to him.

“I told you.” he smirked.

“Shall we go now?”

“Wait. Are you crazy? The best thing is yet to be.” he said.

I was not sure about what he was talking about. Meanwhile she came out of the kitchen with three wine-glasses.

“Guys, let me get something special for you.”

“Whaaao!” Gunjan’s face got lit up just like a kid when he’s given a candy in his hand.

“Pleased to have you both around.” she said stretching out a bottle of red wine from the fridge and offering it to Gunjan. It took just a few seconds for him to pour it in the glasses. We all sat on a Kashmiri silk carpet on the floor. She had grabbed a cushion in one hand and the glass in another.

“For this beautiful evening.” Gunjan toasted the glass.

“Cheers.” Our glasses clinked.

It was an old red wine which, as she told, was to be found nowhere else in this country apart from Nashik. She knew lot more about vineyards and wine than any one of us did. I sniffed it and sipped a little from the glass and tasted the tangy wrath of grapes daggling on my tongue. Gunjan appreciated it for nth number of times. I took a sip and started to aerate it swilling it round my mouth.

“Savory!”  I appreciated the wine and she nodded.

“How did you get this cut mark here?” she asked somberly pointing near my eye.

“Old story.” I said.

“How old?”

“Almost twenty one years old. Childhood memories, you know.” I said.

“Childhood memories.” she mumbled and she seemed to be repeating it in her mind. Then she started shuffling the UNO cards. She didn’t ask anything further about the cut mark but started distributing the cards. We played three rounds and each time I lost pathetically. The clock ticked eight and then we finally decided to leave.

“What’s your plan for tomorrow?” she asked looking at Gunjan on the doorway. Weekends have never been any special neither for him, nor for me.

“Nothing as such.” He said.

“Superb. Tomorrow a friend of mine is throwing a birthday party and you guys are going with me.” she announced.

“What say?” he pushed it to me.

“What?” I said, awkwardly. “we barely know anybody there.”

“Just ignore him. We are in!” he announced.

“Did we know each other until yesterday?” she asked me.  

“We still don’t know each other. Do we?”  I said. “In fact, I haven’t even asked your name!”

“Why so hurry, mister?” she smiled. “Nobody is running away. See you guys tomorrow!” She said goodnight and shut the door.

We came back to our room. I sloppily sat on the couch and asked Gunjan who she was. He said nothing but shot a smile. I asked him again.

“She isn’t the Queen Elizabeth for sure. Why should you bother to know about her?” he quipped.

“Just out of the curiosity.” I said. The vinous tang of the wine was still lingering on my tongue. I wasn’t so sure whether I was getting drunk or what. But it just started making me feel good.

He came and stood right in front of me and asked “so, tell me, did you like her?”

“Tell me, which beer do you want to have?”  I said.

                                           ______

[bobbystompy]

68 Quotes I Enjoyed From 2019

Below are my favorite quotes from 2019. Though most occurred throughout the year, some took place before but were encountered during.

1) “I don’t bitch about Millenials.

John Entwistle once complained that he didn’t understand rap. Pete Townsend said, ‘It’s not our job to understand it. It’s our job to get the fuck out of the way.’

New generations come of age. The older generation’s job is to shut up and adapt.” - @danagould

2) “I can’t do drugs with you until we kiss.”

3) “If you pay me $50 I'll show up to your funeral but stand really far away, holding a black umbrella regardless of the weather, so that people think you died with a dark and interesting secret.” - @DanaSchwartzzz

4) “A human being is a dangerous thing to let loose in a room with itself, when it cannot think.” - Roger Ebert

5) “There are no bad bourbons, only better bourbons.” - Dave Hernandez

6) “You can’t put a dollar in a kimono.”

7) “This is how it was.” - rampant takeaway from watching ‘Superbad’ several years after its release

8) “What if I had been born fifty years before you in a house on the street where you lived / Maybe I’d be outside as you passed on your bike / Would I know? / And in a wide sea of eyes, I see one pair that I recognize” - Ben Folds, ‘The Luckiest’

9) “Learn the rules so you can break them.”

10) “Nobody makes chili for two.” - Stacy Massey

11) “‘Best city in the world,’ I mutter to myself, as i adjust my ‘driving blanket’.” - Chicago resident Deanna Belos, during the 2019 Polar Vortex

12) “Dude, no one’s ever got arrested for listening to Counting Crows.” - Ricky O’Donnell, justifying late night music volume at his party

13) Bill Belichick: We’re going to have fun tonight. Rob Gronkowski: Yes we are. We deserve it. Belichick: You’re damn right. Gronk: I haven’t stepped out in like eight months. I gotta step out tonight. Belichick: I’m with you, man. I’m even going to step out. Gronk: Oh, I like it!

A Super Bowl winning exchange.

14) Center David Andrews thanked Bill Belichick for giving him "a shot".

Belichick disagreed with it.

Andrews: Thank you for giving me a shot. Belichick: A shot? I didn't give you shit. You earned it! I don't give anything.

Another Super Bowl winning exchange.

15) “We elected one of the very worst living human beings to be President, and it's exhausting. Each and every day, it's an exhausting slog, just to exist in a world where that's true.” - Michael Schur

16) “Some of y’all always picked Odd Job when you played Goldeneye and it shows” - @thedad

17) “Any app is a dating app if you try hard enough.” - Z.W. Martin (though he says it’s lifted)

18) "Once you're as woke as I am, you learn to feel bad all the time.”

19) “Everything’s a balance beam when you’re 90.” - John Dingell

20) [I wake up in a world where The Beatles never existed]

Me: Check out this song I just wrote

[I begin playing “Ob La Di Ob La Da” without having first built up years of goodwill]

Crowd of people: Wow, this sucks ass

-- @seanoneal

21) “People change people.” - Corey Matthews, Girl Meets World

22) “The easiest thing to do on earth is not write.” - William Goldman

23) “Dan could be like a difficult uncle. I didn’t love his fire-breathing conservative politics. I didn’t love the transformation that came over his novels. In Semi-Tough, he created two benighted Texas jocks and laid their prejudices bare. He was declaring himself a member of the Mark Twain coaching tree. In later books, Dan seemed to be trying to prove he could still tell a racist joke. He insisted that his memoir—the last truly immaculate piece of writing he delivered—include a tirade against political correctness. When his editor said people might be offended, Dan said, ‘Fuck people.’

There are certain writers whose style you pilfer. Certain writers whose moral fiber you try to inherit. For me, Dan represented a third category: a writer whose aura you replicate—or, failing that, try to stand in for a while.” - Bryan Curtis, on Dan Jenkins

24) “Never marry anything. Never choose. Even in love, it's better to be chosen.” - La Dolce Vita

25) “An uncluttered, uncomplicated happy ending might sound wonderful, but it’s hardly ever satisfying. Because the value of great stories lies in the tension between desire and need, between the yearning for the ideal, and the unshakable conviction that ideals don’t really exist, at least not the way we want them to. A great story should hurt a little when it leaves us. There should be some hope, but that hope should remain somewhere just an inch beyond our fingers, because that’s the truth. Even if you had all the perfect moments in the world, you’d still be reaching.” - Zach Handlen, on the Futurama series finale

26) “You can’t see him because he has sunglasses on.” - Alissa Levy

27) “The cinema is the greatest art form ever conceived for generating emotions in its audience. That's what it does best. (If you argue instead for dance or music, drama or painting, I will reply that the cinema incorporates all of these arts).” - Roger Ebert

28) “‘Are you gonna let politics ruin a friendship?’ 

Yes tf I am

People talk about politics as if it’s this isolated, abstract concept that only matters at election time. Somebody’s politics is their world view. It’s whether they think certain human beings deserve rights. It’s how they think the world should be. And if somebody thinks that the world should be colder, meaner, less accepting and downright hostile to people that are different to them, then sure as fuck is the friendship over.”

29) “Can the Supreme Court get me mushrooms?” - J-Papp

30) “Any song under two minutes already has a head start on its way into my heart. Just scream at me and then leave me.” - Drew Magary

31) “Long neck cold beers never broke my heart.” - Clemson Tom

32) “I’d just like to point out that the last spoken words of Game of Thrones were: 

‘I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.’”

- @Authoroux

33) “Just once before I die, I want to toss my keys to someone and tell them ‘Bring the car around’.” - Mike Skully

34) “For all the weight they're given, last words are usually as significant as first words.” - Grand Maester Pycelle, Game of Thrones

35) “The best remedy for unrequited love is a trip around the world.” - Cheers

36) [on switching from a hotel to a motel]

Manny: I don't like the sound of that. A lot of amenities disappear when an H turns into an M. Jay: Hey when I met you, you were eating cereal out of a bucket.

-- Modern Family

37) “You and Lindsey don’t want to be ‘estranged’. Estranged is the relationship we want to have with our mothers.” - MegFil

38) “Cigarettes are undefeated.”

39) “My toes are like my fingers on my feet. I can pick stuff up with them.” - Tracy Cunningham

40) “Republicans govern without shame, Democrats shame without governing.” - Bill Maher

41) Sam: I don’t understand the vagaries of the Internet Josiah: Post often, without thought, and you’ll either get cancelled or cancel someone else.

-- Blink-155

42) “Hang a lantern on your problems.”

43) “What a weird web we weave.” - The Situation, The Jersey Shore: Family Vacation

44) “Let the ocean worry about being blue.” - Alabama Shakes, ‘Hang Loose’

45) “Honesty without tact is cruelty.” - Shelley Rokos

46) “My whole life is the wrong porn link.”

47) “One parent can take care of 10 kids, but 10 kids cannot take care of one parent.” - Joe Gestetner, via “an old Yiddish saying”

48) “There are no heroes in the room.” - Classics of Love, ‘Gun Show’

49) “If I am a little dismissive, it's only because of my harrowing backstory.” - Mitchell, Modern Family (on why he doesn't like sports)

50) “Every time I’m wearing black, I meet a dog.” - Tracy Cunningham

51) “Shower sex? Why would I fuck in my crying chamber” - @chridollarsign

52) “My theory about quarterbacks, having written about some of them, is you either have to believe in god or think you are a god.” - Mina Kimes

53) “The contradictions of capitalism always manifest in our lyrics if you look deeply.” - Blake Schwarzenbach of Jawbreaker, Riot Fest 2019

54) “Got a ‘hang loose’ from the weakside bartender.”

55) “It’s Jennifer’s birthday always.” - Eric Hutchinson 

56) “I can’t think of a less relevant artist in 2019 than Kanye West. A Jesus freak in a MAGA hat. Yeah, congrats dude -- you’re every grandma who watches ‘Young Sheldon’ and mails checks to Joel Osteen now.” - Dan Ozzi

57) “The past and future are in the mind. I’m in the now.” - Tom Brady, via someone else

58) “Sometimes you walk around boring places and you feel like the most exciting thing in it.” - Drew Magary

59) “Sitting is the new smoking.” - Modern Family

60) “I'll straight up fight folks at a book club and discuss books at a fight club I really don't give a shit anymore.” - George Wallace

61) “Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.” - Rose Garvey via wine country

62) “It’s all ‘ok boomer’ until you need someone who can drive stick shift.” - @OrdinaryAlso

63) “He likes the result of the math.” - Dad, talking about my worst subject frustrating during the process but satisfying in the end

64) Stepmom: Do you want a Bears urn or Alabama urn? Dad: Ask me after they play Auburn.

65) “A cold body carries a warm heart.” - Stefanos Tsitsipas’ Instagram, after his Iceland sabbatical

66) [preparing a dish called the Sandwich of Justice with his friend’s recipe]

"The fun thing about it is when you give it to someone, you can say 'Justice is served.’ That's, uh, Ryan's line. I built my whole life on the backs of my friends." - You Suck At Cooking

67) “Usually three people can keep a secret only when two of them are dead.” - The Irishman

68) “An artist can't control who consumes their content any more than a chemist can control how their chemicals are used once they're created.” - Brian Crooks