#also. in my defense. a car drove past the kitchen window and i felt watched and then there was a loud noise (again. ice cubes.) and i just

[milo-is-rambling]

Was filling my water cup before I take a shower and I heard a loud noise (which now that im really thinking about it was probably the ice maker thing in the freezer) and my immediate reaction was to run and hide in the bathroom. To be fair I am set up in here with weed and a towel and stuff already. So. Was I fleeing? Or was I Very Quickly walking and Slamming and Locking the door to the very fun hang out spot of the newly clean bathroom.

[whydoyouwantmyname]

Imagine being Sirius’s daughter {Part Two}

Part one

-Remus took you to James and Lily’s funeral, knowing that you had no idea what was happening, but he had to go..... he had to know it was real.

-He also took you to Peter’s funeral.

-On full moon nights Dumbledore would come get you from the cabin and take you to Hogwarts. He had a spare bed set up for you in the office, and you would sleep there under the window, Fawkes perched at the foot of your bed standing guard. 

-When you were older some nights you would stay with Hagrid in the Hut. He loved having you around, and would teach you all about the garden, the grounds, and the magical creatures.

-You often asked Remus when your father was coming home. He didn’t tell you until you were three that Sirius wasn’t coming home for a very long time.

-The first year you lived with him, he would find himself going to bed heartbroken, exhausted from trying to be strong for your sake all day. His tears freely falling as his mind flashed back to a happier time.

-After that first year it happened far less frequently.

-Remus built you a spare room, and filled it full of the books Lily bought you from the flat, along with photographs of the past events.

-He also got your stuffed animals that represented the Marauders, and added to it a stuffed Lily. They sat on your bookshelf.

-One of the photos was of Harry and you, and when you first saw it you asked, “What happened to Harry?”

“Well, he went to live with Lily’s sister.”

“Can we go see him?”

“Unfortunately not, see Lily’s sister is a muggle, and Auntie Lily always said that her sister was not a fan of wizards. So I doubt she would find our presence welcoming.”

-One night you were sitting at the table when you asked, “Uncle Mooney, did Daddy kill Uncle Prong and Auntie Lily?”

“No my love, he didn’t. They were killed by a very bad wizard, who wanted to hurt Harry.”

“But why? Harry is just a harmless baby, right?”

“You are far smarter than your father.” Remus smiled, “You are right my love, but this wizard was scaried of Harry, and that why he attacked Uncle Prong, and Auntie Lily.” Remus sighed, before standing, “I am going to my room very quick, is your bag packed for Hogwarts?”

“Yes Mooney.” You replied with a smile, as he retreated towards the master room, and towards his bed. Crouching down he withdrew a old shoe box and pulled back the lid to reveal a stack of envelopes, each filled with parchment addressed to both you and him, your father’s handwriting filled the pages. However it was the envelope at the bottom of the stack that Remus needed to reread.

Mooney,

I have to apologize, for these last few months I have been withholding a secret from you, I thought you had turned on us. I was convinced that you had switched sides, and convinced our own friends, our brothers that you couldn’t be trusted. This assumption also lead me to make the worst decision of my life.

I convinced James and Lily to name Wormtail as their secret keeper, in fear that you had told Voldemort I was the Potter’s secret keeper, since I was their closest friend, and The Godfather of their child. James was insistent that he didn’t trust anyone more, but my desire to protect my family led me to lead them to their ultimate demise. That is why I went after Wormtail, and unfortunately he escaped. My guess is he is in some sewer somewhere as the rat that he is, cowarding away from the truth of his crimes.

I am sorry I ever doubted you, and I am sorry my decisions have now no doubt forced you into the role of fatherhood, a role I know that you have always longed for, but never felt you desired. I know Dumbledore has probably brought you my sweet [Y/N], and asked you to take her in. I know you love her as much as James, Lily, and I did, but that you are scared she will judge you once she learns of your condition. I promise you she won’t. I only ask one thing of you Remus..... don’t let her grow up thinking her father betrayed his friends, tell her the truth, tell her I love her.

My dearest brother, I love you, and I ask that you forgive me for what I have done. I will make this up to you, and when I get out, I will not only hug my daughter, but also you.

Padfoot

-Remus never told you about the letters

-The day after you returned from that trip you looked at Remus, “Uncle Mooney, can we plant lilies?”

“Of course Love.” He smiled, as you both went out to the car he had stored away in the garage, and drove to town. That afternoon you both planted Lilies in the entire flower box infront of the cabin windows, a smile on both your faces as you chattered.

-Hargid loved when you visited, you were obsessed with learning about the different creatures on the grounds.

-Remus loved having you in the cabin with him, he tried as hard as he could to raise you the way he imagined Sirius would want you to be raised.

-Remus hated your traumatic threes, he remembered Lily once joking with Sirius about how you will be a rebellious two year old once you hit the terrible twos, but he was not prepared for it to hit when you were three.

-However there was no doubt in his mind you were Sirius’s child, even at a young age you and your father shared a similar sense of humor.

-When you weren’t being a rambunctious toddler, Remus enjoyed taking you for strolls in the forest, he would watch as you touched every tree, and tried to smell all the flowers. He would carry a book with him as well filled with all the different plant varieties, and whenever you found a new one, you and him would sit on the forest floor and rummage through the book until you identified the plant.

-The night after the full moons were always the hardest on Remus, he was still wide awake from sleeping all day, but Dumbledore always brought you back after the great feasts. Remus would sit with you on the couch as you raved about all the professors he had loved while in school, and then at 9:30 he would put you to bed. As soon as you would drift off though he would sit there and watch you sleep, his mind racing with all the possibilities life had to offer you. It also though was flooded with the occasional dread, for you were the daughter of Sirius Black, a man who was now marked as a traitor and a murderer, he feared this would make you the victim of relentless teasing, and isolation among your peers. But he couldn’t let that consume his thoughts as he watched your chest rise and fall.

-Remus always made you pancakes for breakfast, a lesson he learned from Lily when he went to visit her one summer before their fifth year. Her handwriting still graced the page of his journal, which he had open on the counter every time he made them, even though he had already memorized the recipe.

-Snack time always consisted of chocolate.

-He began homeschooling you when you turned 4, your favorite lessons were writing, and defense against the dark arts.

-You once asked why your father never wrote you, Remus lied and said he had no idea, even though Sirius wrote you and him letters constantly. He stored them all in the box.

-When you would go to Hogwarts McGonagall would always bring you into her classroom after lessons were over, and tell you about her days as a quidditch player, and about how your Uncle James was the best chaser she had ever seen.

-You figured out Remus was a werewolf, you were five, and while he tucked you in you let it slip that you knew. He just looked at you in disbelief, but you just smiled, “I mean it makes sense, Uncle Mooney, I mean why else would they call you that?”

“How long have you known about my.... condition?” He finally asked, disbelief still in his voice as you shrugged, “Since about a month before my fourth birthday.”

-One day you offered to stay with Remus during a full moon, however he looked at you and smiled, “No my love, I will be fine, besides I know then that you are safe, and I promised your father I would keep you safe.”

-When you were in the castle, Snape avoided you.

-Dumbledore had already guaranteed that you would be attending Hogwarts, much to Remus’s joy.

-Normally he would read to you from the thousands of books he has filled your room with, however occasionally you would look at him and ask for a story about him and the rest of your family, and with a pained smile he would reminisce about the 10 years of friendship he had.

-When you were 5 he explained to you what Azkaban was, and how that’s where your father was.

-When you turned 6 he took you to Diagon Alley for the first time, you absolutely loved it.

-You were 7 when you asked Remus, “Uncle Mooney, how did Voldemort find Uncle Prongs, and Auntie Lily?”

“What do you mean darling?”

“Well they were in hiding, he shouldn’t have been able to find them, I mean they were apart of one of the most intelligent wizarding organizations in London, and I am sure the Order would have the necessary tools to hide them. So how did he find them?”

“Only one person knew where the Potters were hidden, they were the secret keeper...”

“You mean my father?” You cut him off, as his eyes met yours, “Are you trying to tell me Daddy turned them over to...”

- Your eyes were watering, and Remus watched as your mind processed the new information. After several moments of silence you bolted from the kitchen and slammed your bedroom door.

-After a few hours Remus softly knocked on your door, “Love, can I come in?”

Your room was silent, but the door slowly opened several seconds later, and the imagine broke Remus’s heart. Your eyes were rimmed red, and bloodshot, your face flushed, and the shine of your tears reflected the cabin lights. Your fingers did a quick pass against your cheeks as you whispered, “My father would never turn on the Potters.”

“I know Love.” He lied, because even though he got letters daily from Sirius, pleading to his best friend to believe he was innocent and to give him any news of his little girl, Remus wasn’t sure if he even believed Sirius.

-That night Remus told you the story about how he first met you, and how shocked he was when James called him after speaking to his mother, who had spent the whole day helping Sirius prepare to be a father. You smiled the whole story, as you cling to the black dog plushie Lily had bought you.

-After that you both never brought the subject up again, however you always knew your father was innocent.

-When you turned 8, you had basically mastered basic potions, and whenever you visited Hogwarts, insisted on showing Snape.... however he would tell Dumbledore to watch, and leave the dungeon.

-The day before you turned 9, it was a full moon, meaning you spent your ninth birthday in the castle. You desperately wished that Remus could have been there, but before you left he gave you a big hug, “I promise Love, when you get back I will have the grandest cake for you.”

“You say that every year Uncle Mooney.” You smiled before looking to Dumbledore, “You know if you two would just let me go to Olivandars you wouldn’t need to come collect me all the time.”

“Yes, and we would all get in trouble for you having a wand before you come of age, and for using magic outside of Hogwarts.” Dumbledore reminded you as you rolled your eyes at him, both smiling as the Black sas came out.

“Yes, but Dumbledore if I remember correctly you have connections within the ministry, prehaps...”

“I fear not even I would be able to save you from the punishment of those crimes, however don’t worry my dear, two more years, and you will have the wand of your dreams, and be able to practice magic at Hogwarts, just like everyone else.”

“You two are no fun.” You retorted as the two men just looked at each other and chuckled.

-That night you went to Hagrid’s hut, the lights shining on the freshly cut grass as you climbed the stairs alone. Your tiny fist pounding against the wood as you waited for the warm glow from inside to wash over you. When Hagrid opened the door however you saw he was wearing a party hat, “[Y/N]! Just the angel I wanted to see.”

“Hello Hagrid, seen any exciting creatures today?” You leaned forward and hugged the tall man, his lips curling up as he replied, “It just so happens I did, tell me [Y/N], have you ever heard of a Billywig?”

“Don’t joke like that Hagrid, Billywigs are only in Australia, and besides they are extinct.”

“I saw it in a book, see Professor Kettleburn was here showing me one of his new textbooks, and they have a whole section on those nasty little buggers.”

“Oh, I do love when he gets new textbooks.” You smiled as you noticed the small cake on the table, “Hagrid, why is there a cake on the table?”

“Well it isn’t every day that your favorite little girl turns nine.” He replied, “Baked it myself, figured you would rather a homemade chocolate cake instead of one made by the elves in the kitchen.”

-It was a small, round, pink cake, with your name written in green frosting (it looked very similar to the one he made Harry on his birthday), a huge smile on your face as you looked over to him, “I love it.”

-That night you slept on Hagrid’s couch, which had happened many times before. Fang laid on the floor in the front of the couch, your hand gently touching his fur with your finger tips, as Hagrid laid a quilted blanket over you.

-That day you sat in Dumbledore’s office, your nose in a book from the Library, your legs curled up under you as you flipped through the pages. Fawkes sitting with his eyes on you as you sat in silence, which was interrupted by a chuckle from Dumbledore.

“[Y/N], have I ever told you about the time your father played muggle music on his Walkman at top volume, and danced around the great hall when he returned from Christmas break?”

“Never.” You replied, closing the book, and looking towards the elder, for he had never really told you anything about when your father attended school, or was in the order.

“I believe the song was called Cry For Me Argentina, somehow James and him had planned out an entire choreographed dance, in which James was throwing rose petals behind your father, who was dramatically twirling down the center aisle of the Great Hall. Poor Remus and Peter trailing behind them, trying their hardest to make it look like they knew what was even going on.” Dumbledore reminisced, as you smiled.

-That’s how the rest of the night went, and at some point McGonnagall joined in, adding her own stories. “Your father is the reason I stopped using the word serious, ever time I did in class, or in the common room he would reply, They’re not serious, I am.”

-When you returned that evening to the cabin, Remus had decorated the entire cabin, streamers hung from the ceiling, as the floor was littered with balloons. The table was set, and platters were stacked high with all your favorite desserts. A bowl filled with chocolate sat on the coffee table, and in the middle of the counter space sat a chocolate cake, covered in your favorite fruit, and homemade frosting.

-He let you stay up extra late that night, both of you sat on the couch with your noses in books. Once midnight came around, you looked to Remus, and excused yourself. After hugging him and shutting your door he let out a sigh and opened the drawer to the side table, his hand pulling out a perfectly new envelope, addressed to you, and opened. His fingers slipping into the tear and extracting a piece of parchment,

My Sweet [Y/N],

Today you are nine, oh how I wish I could see you. I am sure you are just a beautiful as I was at your age, and probably just as troublesome to your Uncle Remus. Someday I hope to see you again, or hear from you, so that I can tell you just how much my heart longs for you. I can never make up for the years we have lost, I have tried to think of a way a thousand times but every solution is never enough, nothing I can ever say or do will ever make up for the fact that I am the reason they are dead, and that the real traitor is still free, probably hiding in some dumpster somewhere, as the guilt of his actions naw away at his soul, or for the fact that my best friend is now the one tucking you in at night, and reading you stories, and feeding you chocolate after 10pm, just like he did to me countless nights. You are in good, safe hands my darling [Y/N], but alas they are not the hands you belong in. I would kill for just one chance to see you again on your birthday, I can still picture in my head how you looked on your first birthday, when your Aunt Lily decorated her entire flat, and slaved away for hours on your cake. Poor Prongs had to come hid out at our place just to avoid stressing her more. I doubt you remember that, but sometimes I like to think you do still remember them, and how much they loved you. You were the star we all needed in our blanketed midnight sky, and I can only hope you are that same joyous light for Uncle Mooney, who sometimes forget there is joy in life, and that our alements don’t define us. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss you, or the little family we had.

Happy Birthday my Love,

Dad

-Remus’s eyes watered as he read the letter over and over before walking into his room and adding it to the box, his mind wandering far from the current moment in time, and back to that small flat 8 years ago, when they were all smiling with happiness on your first birthday.

-That night he chose to stay in his own room, and look through his own memory keepsakes from his time at Hogwarts, tears freely running down his face as silent sobs scratched at his throat.

-When you awoke the next morning, he had already dried his tears, and wore a smile for you, as though nothing had happened.

-When you turned 11, Remus took you to Diagon Alley, and bought you everything he remembered needing his first year of Hogwarts.

-You were so excited to go to Ollivander’s, your grin was ear to ear as he stated, “No doubt you are a Black child, you have the same wildness behind your eyes as your father and uncle, let us hope however you are not as twisted as...”

“That is quite enough.” Remus interrupted, “We would like to see your finest wands please?”

-That was the first time you had ever experienced someone directly saying something negative to you because of who your father was, your heart torn as you took the first wand into your hands, “Unicorn hair core, black walnut wood, 10.5 inches.”

“Well give it a flick dear.” Remus encouraged, however at the flick of your wrist, all the wands rocketed off of the shelves.

“I’m sorry Mr. Ollivander, but I think we might need to try another.” You smiled shyly, as you placed the wand down immediately.

“I would say so, let me see if we have something more appropriate.” He forced a smile as he retreated towards the back, “Prehaps this will be more family appropriate, your grandmother had a similar one, Dragon heartstring core, black walnut, 8 inches.”

-When you gave it a flick, a small beam shot out of it, and landed on the papers, causing a small fire to overtake the top of the stack. Withdrawing his wand Remus quickly extinguished the flame, however Ollivander’s attention was on something else, and quickly he turned on his heels and made his way towards the wands scattered on the floor, mumbling to himselfbefore loudly exclaiming, “This is the one, I can feel it my dear, almost exactly as another wand I sold back in the day, it is just a 1/4 inch shorter, measuring at 10 inches, it’s made of cypress wood, and the core is unicorn hair.”

-Remus’s eyebrow raised as Ollivander named off the characteristics of his own wand, but before he could say anything you had the wand in hand, and without even a flick, it immediately started to shine, a slight breeze overtook the room as Ollivander smiled, “The wand chooses the witch Miss Black, and it seems you have far more in common with Mr. Lupin than you thought.”

-When you returned home you looked at Remus, “Thank you for today, I had a lot of fun.” You smiled

“No problem Love, however I am exhausted, so how’s about we turn in early for the night.”

“Of course Uncle Mooney.” You replied as you turned into your own room, and shut the door, leaving him to stand in the living room and wonder about the future.

-He addressed his issues to Dumbledore the next time he saw him, “You don’t think the others will bully her for her father’s crimes, do you?”

“I highly doubt any of her peers will even know the story of her father’s crimes, she will be fine Remus.”

“And what shall we do about Sirius, I mean I wouldn’t put it past him to send her a letter while she is at school. I don’t want her head filled with his lies.” Remus inquired, as he looked out the window to see you tending to the lillies.

“Sirius is no threat to her at Hogwarts, she will be safe Remus, I promise.” He reassured him as he let out a shaky breath, “I would hope so.”

“Besides she has Black blood in her, and was raised by 1 of the best tricksters in Hogwarts history, and was brought up with James Potter, she can no doubt handle herself if trouble arises.”

-You were insistent on taking the train your first year, even though Dumbledore offered to take you straight to Hogwarts, “I want to be treated as a normal student Dumbledore.”

“And so you shall.” He smiled

-Remus was secretly falling apart on the inside when he was walking you to platform 9&10, his mind filled with thoughts of all the trouble you could get into, the things you could be bullied for, but also at the sense of loss he was going to feel, the longest he had ever been away from you in the past nine years was 24 hours, and now he wasn’t going to see you again until Christmas. However all of that melted away when he saw your smile, and for a second it was like he was seeing the smile of an 11 year old Sirius Black.

-You got to 9 3/4 beautifully, Remus right behind you as you pushed your cart towards the enormous train, the platform was filled with adults and students, all trying to sort through the chaos.

-Before boarding you wrapped Remus in the tightest hug you could muster, “I’ll write you every day, and I promise I will be on my best behavior.”

“I know Love.” He whispered, as you looked up at him, a excited smile on your face, “I love you.”

“I love you too Uncle Mooney.”

-Those were the last words you said to him before boarding the train, his feet planted firmly on the platform until the train pulled away, his eyes watching as the train got smaller the further it went towards the horizon, until it was completely out of sight. A shaker breath released from his lungs, unaware he was even holding it in, as the reality of the situation set in, for the first time in a long time..... he was completely alone.

-Upon arriving home, the cabin was pitch black, and silent as the grave. His hands reached out towards the light switch, which flooded the room with a harsh yellow glow. His feet carried him straight into his room, to where his bookshelf stood. His fingers running across the spines of each book until he found the one dated for 1979, withdrawing it he looked at the cover of the photo album and retreated to your room. Once inside, he took a deep breath and was overwhelmed with the scent of you, a ping of sadness overtaking him as he sank onto your mattress, and opened the book to see the animated faces of his friends. Each page holding a memory, both before and after you entered their lives, as he relived the moments in his head. He stayed up all night looking at all the albums he had created those past 11 years.

-When you boarded the train, you were looking for anywhere there was available seating, and you knocked on the glass of the first one you saw, “Mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all.” One of the two identical ginger boys exclaimed, his face was slightly rounder than the other boys, and his smile was large as you sat down across from him, “Are you a first year too?” the other asked.

“Yeah, I’m [Y/N], and you are?”

“I’m Fred, He’s George.” The rounder faced one replied

“I’m George, he’s Fred.” The other replied right after

-You spent the whole train ride joking with the twins, and found that you all had a similar sense of humor. However soon the conversation shifted, “So which house do you think you’ll be sorted into?” George asked

“Probably Hufflepuff, honestly I have a sweet tooth, and the closer to the kitchen the better.” You joked as the boys chuckled.

“Well as Weasley’s there is only one house we’lol get sorted into.” Fred replied cocky, “Our whole family has been Gryffindors.”

“Ah so you are lions.” You joked as Fred and George let out fake roars, just as the train stopped at a platform. With smiles you three rose and made your way towards the exit, and once on the platform you heard a familiar voice, “All first years come with me, everyone else make your way to the carriages.”

-“Hagrid!” You exclaimed, separating from the boys as you ran towards the half giant, who extended his arms open and caught you.

“[Y/N]!” He exclaimed, “mighty fine seeing you here, how was the ride?”

“Splendid, just like I imagined, tell me, did the elves make Yorkshire pudding tonight?”

“Course they did, it wouldn’t be the first day feast without it.” He smiled, “However your friends seem to be looking a wee bit confused.”

-When you turned around Fred and George were just looking at you, and with a smile you joked, “What, have my lions never seen a half giant before?”

“No, we are just wondering how you know each other?” Fred questioned

“Now that boys is a secret I shall never tell.” You smiled, before taking both their hands, “Now come on, we don’t want to miss the boats.”

-It was in the boat that you met Lee Jordan, and soon realized he would be joining your friend group.

-Once outside the great hall you turned towards the boys, “Now we make a promise here, no matter what house we get, we will still all be friends, no matter what.”

“Unless one of us gets Slytherin, no one in Slytherin ever turns out being a good guy.” George replied

“Even if one of us gets Slytherin.” You replied, to which the three sighed, but ultimately agreed.

-When McGonagall started calling names you smiled at the members of staff, and watched as each of your friends got sorted into Gryffindor. Finally you heard McGonagall’s voice say your name, “[Y/N] Black.”

-A hush feel over the great hall as you approached the hat, McGonagall smiled at you as you slowly took your place upon the stool, and felt the fabric of the talking hat touch your hair, before it’s voice filled your head, “Ahhhhhhh another member of the Black Family, this should be easy to sort out, I mean you’re a descendant from a long line of Slytherins. I think your father was the only oddball of the family, what you might call a black sheep.”

“Please, don’t put me in Slytherin.” You thought, your eyes closed as you thought it louder

“Oh why not, someone with your talent could excel in Slytherin, besides who doesn’t love a cunning woman with a bit of poisoned blood in her veins. I mean your father was a traitor, whose to say you won’t be the same.”

“My father was not a traitor, he was a loyal friend, and a fighter. He would never turn his back on his family, because you might say I am a descendent of Slytherin but everyone in my family were...” 

“Gryffindor!” The hat screamed, as the table cheered loudly, your eyes opening as your face cracked a smile. Your feet excitingly carried you to the place beside George, as you looked toward Dumbledore, who wore a proud smile on his face as well.

-Your first week of classes was a breeze, Fred and George were baffled by the fact that you knew all of them, and were glad that you were their friend, since you were clearly the brightest witch of your year.

-You went to Dumbledore’s office once while you were free and looked at the hat sitting atop the shelf, “Are you sure you put me in the proper house?” You asked

“Of course I am, you showed true bravery standing up for your father, and loyalty. Both are vital traits of a true gryffindor.”

-You and the twins were inseparable, and within the first two weeks of school were already plotting on who to prank, and how.

-You sent a letter to Remus everyday as promised, and everyday he would send you a reply. However a month into school, you one day received two letters. The first was from Remus, but the second bore no return address.

-You waited until you were in your dorm room to open it, safely seated on your bed, you closed the curtains and tore the envelope open, withdrawing the parchment, you read the scribbles on the page,

Dear [Y/N] Euphemia Black,

Hello, it is odd to think that these are the first words you will ever be reading from me, even though I have written you a hundred times before. However knowing how stubborn your Uncle Mooney is, I doubt he has even told you that I have been writing you since they locked me away.

Where to begin, words can’t even describe how I have been feeling since they ripped me away from you, nor can anything make up for the lost years of communication we have had. Not a single day goes by where I don’t envision your beautiful [Y/E/C] eyes, or how your face looked, or remember how you used to dart around the house like a child overdosing on sugar. Truly your impact on my life has been the only thing keeping me sane in this insane asylum prison all these years. I am sorry I can’t have a similar impact on your life.

You are 11 now, meaning g you have just started the best adventure of your life, it was at Hogwarts that I met your Uncle Prongs, and Mooney, and unfortunately met Uncle Wormtail as well. I wish some days I never met that traitor, or that I wasn’t so self absorbed in my own beliefs. I was wrong to doubt your Uncle Mooney, when the real traitor was right under my nose the whole time, and I gave him the loaded gun to destroy our entire friend group, and your childhood. No child should ever have to endure what you and Harry did. How I wish I knew where he was, since I doubt that they would give Mooney both of you, and I have no idea where Auntie Lily’s family is. I just know where you are, and that you were safe in Uncle Mooney’s cabin all these years.

I would love to hear from you, written on the back is how to reach me. I have so many years to catch up on, and so little time to do so.

I love you my darling, never forget that.

Dad

-By the time you reached the end of the letter you were crying, and every time you reread his words more tears started to flow down your face. Soon your vision was blurred and the words manifested into blobs on the page, but by that point you had already memorized most of it.

-You stayed in bed the rest of the day, and once night had fallen over the castle you made your way to the common room where a very concerned set of ginger twins sat on the stair to the first year girls dormitories with Lee., who was leaning opposite them in the doorway.

When he saw you Lee looked at you with concern, causing the boys to turn and look as well. Wasting no time they jumped up and wrapped you in a tight embrace. When they pulled away Lee wrapped you in a embrace, and then they led you to one of the secluded couches. They kept asking you what was wrong and finally you broke, and told them that you just found out your pet hamster had passed away. Not wanting them to know your family secret.

-The next day you responded to your father’s letter, and started what would soon become a weekly interaction with your estranged father.

-You never told Remus or any of the professors you were in contact with your father.

-your father was so happy when he received your first letter, and cried as he read the seven pages of parchment that you sent him.

-You helped the tricksters with their assignments, and the pranks.

-McGonagall couldn’t help chuckling to Dumbledore one day, and stated, “Isn’t it funny how she has found herself her own group of tricksters?”

“It is, especially since she has become just like Remus.” Dumbledore compared to her as she groaned, “Does that make the Weasleys James and Sirius?”

“I fear it does.” Dumbledore replied

-You were at the top of the class when Christmas break came.

-Before leaving you and the boys decided to do secret Santa when you all returned from christmas break. Each of you wrote your names on a piece of parchment and put it in a hat, drawing one by one. You were the last to draw, and you had gotten Fred.

-When she went home that Christmas Remus was waiting for her anxiously on the platform, however before you were reunited with your uncle, Fred and George followed their brothers towards their family, each of your hands in one of theirs as they led you towards the other Weasleys to introduce you.

-When they heard your last name they immediately knew who your father was, and why he was in Azkaban, but later that night after Arthur expressed his concerns Molly defended you, “We can’t judge her because of her father, and besides, did you see how smitten the boys were to introduce us to their best friend.

-When you saw Remus, you broke away from the twins and ran towards him, your arms snaking around his neck as he picked you up.

-You immediately introduced him to the twins. He looked at both of them and smiled, “So you are the boys my niece has told me so much about?”

-When you got home, you immediately started tell Remus about all the non secretive stuff you left out of your letters. Once you got inside though you looked at him, “Uncle Mooney, have you ever heard of the Marauders Map?”

“Why?”

“Fred and George knicked it from Flich during one of their detentions, and on the front of the parchment it states master Mooney, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prong. I only know four men whom go by those names.”

-He told you everything about the map, and you immediately wrote to the twins to tell them how to open the map. When you were done, and sent the letter off to them, you turned slightly and looked at Remus, “Uncle Mooney?”

“Yes Love?”

“Why have you been hiding my father’s letters from me?”

-He was silent, his face paling, as his hand slightly started to shake. He felt hot suddenly and lost the ability to talk, as you continued, “I want to see them please Uncle Mooney.”

-All he whispered was, “How?”

“He told me, please Remus.” His real name sounded so foreign slipping off your tongue, “I deserve to know.”

-He got the box, and sat at the dining room table, as you slid into the chair across from him. Your fingers casually slid along the lock as you opened the lid and revealed 9 years worth of unread letters. Remus’s eyes focused on the table, never lifting as you read each letter in silence, and finally you reached the first letter, where he had pleaded to his friend his innocence.

“You had all of these for years.” You whispered, “And yet you still doubt him?”

“[Y/N]...” his voice was barely audible, but the heartbreak in his tone and body language was loud, your watering eyes meeting as he took a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“Yet you knew my father was reaching out, that he is rotting away in a cell alone, and you..” your voice cracked, “you let him rot in there alone.”

-You left the table immediately, and went into your room, where you stayed for two days, until you came out to Remus asleep on the couch, the house a mess. You immediately started cleaning as you walked around, along with covered Remus with a blanket. When he awoke, you were seated on the floor facing him, his eyes bloodshot as you whispered, “I love you too.”

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

[fydream]

44 | previous | next | m.list | main m.list |

a/n: hi yes! another differently formatted chapter! word count is 2.2k, so it’s not that long. also this semi-proof read sorry (meaning i did proof reading and editing while writing it but i didnt give it one last over view.. again, sorry) hope u like it! :D��

You sigh as you swing your legs back and forth from the countertop you were sitting on. Currently, you, Renjun, Chenle, and Jeno were all at Hyuck's house hanging out. Your sigh catches the attention of Renjun which prompts him to ask "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." You say, trying to brush it off.

He furrows his eyebrows. "It's not nothing. If it's bothering you this much why don't we talk about it?"

You pout at him, hoping he'll pick up a sign that you don't want to, but still he insists that you tell him what's wrong.

"Well.." You mumble. "Jisung said he wanted to talk to me tonight.."

"Sorry, what?" Renjun asks. "I didn't hear you."

"Jisung said.. he wanted to meet up to explain everything." You say, a little louder this time.

"Jisung what?!" Renjun exclaims, getting the attention of everyone else in the room.

You sigh in defeat as you watch Jeno tense at the name of his ex-friend.

"What's this about Jisung?" Jeno asks.

"Nothing." You mumble, trying to find something else to talk about.

"No no, it's okay. I won't be upset." Jeno reassures. "What about Jisung?"

"He wanted to clear up a few things with me." You answer, glancing at the clock propped up on Hyuck's kitchen wall.

Donghyuck seems to notice how fast your eyes move and asks "Tonight?"

"Yeah. In like an hour or so actually." You confirm.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Renjun asks you.

"Well.. yeah. I kinda want an explanation."

"Are you sure?" Chenle asks. "Like, one hundred percent sure?"

"Yeah?" You nod, confused on why they seemed so concerned with you meeting up with Jisung again.

"Why?" He asks.

"I literally just told you why." You answer, annoyance prominent in your voice.

"Okay." Chenle says, backing off, hands raised in defense.

"Do you, uh, need a ride?" Donghyuck asks, hoping to clear the air a bit.

"Yeah, sure." You agree, hopping off the kitchen counter. It takes him back a little, he wasn't expecting that kind of response, especially that quickly.

"Oh, uhh, now?" He asks as he watches walk towards his hallway.

"Uh, yeah?" You say as he looks at his two friends and his boyfriend confusingly. They shrug in response. You can hear Chenle say "Hey man, you offered to drive. Not us."

You pause in between the end of the hallway and the entrance to the kitchen to watch the four boys start to quarrel.

"Jeno, you'll come with me, right?" Donghyuck asks and Jeno shoots him a look.

"Are you insane?" Jeno responds. "I don't wanna talk to him."

"You're not going to talk to him. Y/n is."

"Okay, then I don't want to see him."

"Fine." Donghyuck scoffs, before turning his head to look at Renjun and Chenle who were already saying no.

"What are you gonna do?" He asks them.

"We're gonna watch your house. Duh." Chenle responds.

"Actually. They're gonna watch your house." Renjun corrects, pointing at Jeno and Chenle. "I'm going to watch Chenle."

"Whaaat!! That's not fair!" He protests.

"I trust Jeno more than you." Renjun retorts back.

Donghyuck sighs in defeat. "Fine. Just don't do anything stupid." He says, turning to walk towards you and you can see the three boys cheer behind him. It causes you to giggle, and Donghyuck is just happy you're happy.

Once out of his house and into his car he asks you where you're going. You tell him not to worry and that you'll just give him the directions on how to get there. It only worries him more.

"I dunno y/n. It seems kinda sketch."

"Listen I know you don't trust the guy, but you trust me, right?" You ask.

"Yeah.."

"Then trust me, that it'll be okay."

"Okay." He sighs. "You lead the way."

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Donghyuck asks as you step out of the passenger seat to his car.

"Yeah. I'm sure." You sigh.

"Okay.. Just. Call me if you need me. I'll be nearby, okay?"

"I'll be fine, Hyuck. Don't worry."

"Whatever you say.." He mumbles before rolling up his window and driving away.

Walking to the only other human like figure around you, you start to wonder if Jisung is really worth your time. Sure you missed the time you spent together, all the hours in the library studying and having stupid debates over the simplest things like, the best ice cream flavor, or how to write the number eight. Yeah you missed it, but was it really worth going back to? You could do these with anyone, even the new friends you've made so far this year. But for some reason, it was different with Jisung.

Maybe it's because you did like him. Or maybe it's because he was really different from your other friends. Yes you love Hyuck, and Renjun, and Chenle to death but it was nice having someone else to talk to, someone who didn't know everything about you, someone you could make different memories with.

"You came.." He says. It's not loud, but it's not quiet either. It's enough to snap you out of your thoughts though.

"Yeah." You nod. "I wanna know.. the truth. And only the truth."

"Do you promise to believe me?" He asks.

You don't respond for a second, you just stare at him with a blank face. You can tell that his eyes are shaky and you can't tell if he's about to cry or not.

"I don't want to make a promise I can't keep."

Needless to say, you could practically feel Jisung's heart shatter.

"Okay." He nods. "Where do you want me to start?"

"I don't know? The beginning?"

"Oh.. Right." He mumbles. "Well um.. You- You see.. It started like- uhm- like."

"So are you gonna tell me or are you just going to keep stalling?"

"Uhh."

"I mean. I can wait, I do have all night for your information." You spit, crossing your arms. "Do you? Or do you have another date planned after this? Y'know, one where you lied to another other girl too?"

"I- What? I don't have another 'date' after this.." He defends. "I've.. I've been alone for the past month and a half.. What are you talking about?"

"So I've heard."

"Look." Jisung sighs, you notice that he looks tired. "I don't wanna fight. Can we just start over?"

"Okay Park Jisung, we can do whatever you want." You scoff. "Hi! I'm y/n l/n, I came to have a conversation. Are we going to have one, or not?"

"You want me to start at the beginning?" He yells. "Fine then! I'll start at the beginning. I'll tell you whatever the fuck you wanna hear!"

"It's true! In the beginning of the school year I was bored and was looking for someone to date. But then I met you! And you were different!"

"Oh yeah? Well I bet you tell that to every girl you meet!" You yell back at him.

Ignoring what you said, Jisung decides to continue. "For some reason something clicked with you. I don't know what it was and I don't remember when, but something just clicked. You really were different. I started enjoying your company a lot more and everything just felt right.. around you."

"This is bullshit." You mumble before turning to walk away. Part of you didn't want to leave because you knew what he was talking about, something clicking. The other part of you decided that this was probably all a lie. "If he's lied to me before he'll do it again." You think trying to convince yourself to leave.

"I'm sorry, Jisung." You sigh. "I really want to believe you, trust me, I do. But you've told me things before.. and you lied to me about them. So who's to say that you aren't lying to me right now?"

There's no response. He just looks at you and you can see the small bits of hope leave his eyes. "Okay." You sigh with a nod before turning to leave. You get pretty far away when you hear him yell your name in attempt to get you to stop walking away from him. "Before you go.. can I please just tell you something?"

You let out a tired sigh. "What is it?"

"You don't have to believe me." He starts. "But you remember that night we spent together? The one right here? In this exact spot?"

You nod. "You mean the night that you lied to me?"

Your words sting, but he decides to continue anyways, trying his best to not show how much that hurt him.

"I meant everything I said that night.. All those words I said were true y'know.." He whispers. "I miss you."

"I miss seeing how your eyes lit up.. And I miss seeing your smile.. I still see it every now and then, but it's not directed at me and it just hurts. I miss our silly disagreements and how we'd drag them on for what felt like ages. I miss driving you home because even though they were silent drives I felt safe and comfortable with you there. It didn't have to be loud like when I drove around with my other friends. I miss the little dates we went on, and ye-yes you'll never hear me say it again but they were all dates. I miss that day at the mall.. before everything went down. Do you remember?" He asks.

You nod again. This time it's smaller and more subtle.

"Y'know.. That's the day I started realizing I liked you." He admits.

Closing your eyes you whisper, "Stop talking."

But he doesn't listen. He just continues.

"You were playing some dumb game.. I don't remember if it was a claw machine or ski ball but it was something.. You were so focused. You even stuck your tongue out a little.. you got so into it."

"Stop talking." You say again, louder this time.

"You looked so pretty.." He sighs. "And you were so excited when we raised enough tickets to get a bag of candy for ourselves. They kicked us out because we sat on the air hockey table, remember? I don't know if they'll ever let us back in there, but it was fun while it lasted." He laughs.

"I said stop talking!" You practically yell, turning to face towards him.

"Why?" He asks, giving you a sad look.

"Because I don't want to remember that day." You sigh.

"Why?" He asks again.

"I don't wanna say why."

He takes a step closer to you. "You can tell me anything."

You sigh in defeat.

"Did you feel it too?" You ask him and he nods.

"So you know?"

"I do."

"Then why do I have to say it?" You ask.

"Because if you say it, then it's like you're accepting the truth."

"I don't like how you know what I feel." You mumble to yourself as he takes another step closer.

"What if I don't.. say it?" You ask.

"Then just give me a sign." He says.

"Do you miss me?" He asks. By this point the sun has gone done, and if weren't only you two here you probably wouldn't have heard him.

You nod. "I do."

"Are you mad at me?" He asks.

You nod again. "I am."

"That's okay." He says. "I understand."

This time, you take a step back.

"Do you wanna be mad at me?"

Instead of responding this time, you ask, "Why do you get to ask all of the questions?"

"I never said you couldn't ask any." He says while you shoot him a glare.

"Okay then." You start, deciding you were going to play this little game with him. Taking a step forward you ask, "Why did you choose me?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. You were new."

You scoff at his response. "Predictable."

Thinking of a better question to ask him, you say, "How can I believe you?"

"You can't." He responds. "You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

"I do."

He nods.

"Okay."

"Do you trust me?" You ask him, breaking the pattern you two have created.

"I do." He says, echoing your answer.

You nod.

"Okay."

"So.. What now?" He asks.

"What do you mean?"

"What do we do now?"

"Ah." You sigh. "That's what you meant."

"Well.. Yeah." He says. "I don't know if you know this but.. this is the closet we've been ever since.. what happened. Yet it's still the furthest we are from each other."

"Can you just shut up, for once?" You ask, voice playful in tone.

Jisung hears it and he gives you a small smile, liking the sudden change in atmosphere. "I dunno.. Will I?" He jokes.

"You're silly." You say, while a smile starts to form shortly after.

"..Can we start over?" He asks, and you can tell he's being serious.

He looks scared. Nothing like the same boy who you saw just a second ago, the one who was starting to be comfortable with you again.

"I'd understand if you didn't want to. Or if you don't want anything to do with me anymore after this. I just thought.. it'd be the right thing to ask."

"Do you promise not to break my heart?" You ask.

"Only if you promise not to break mine." He responds with a smile.

"No promises." You say, grabbing his hand and interlocking it with yours.

"Hey!" He exclaims. "You can't do that!"

"Yes I can. I just did."

"I'll take this as a yes then?" He asks, a giggle following afterwards.

"Yeah. You can take this as a yes."

✰ how to be a heartbreaker

↳ so what happens when park jisung, the school’s infamous fuckboy runs into the new girl at school? out of boredom he decides it’ll be fun to have someone new to play with, but little does he know, she’s learning how to be a heartbreaker.

[rosewood-liars]

I’m disappointed that the producers of the PLL TV Series wrote out the fact Hanna is canonically Jewish even if she is non - practicing and had a blended tradition family ( Ashley Marin is not to my knowledge also Jewish ). There’s a whole scene in the books where Tom tries to bond with Hanna again, recognizes that the christmas celebrations are bumming her out & makes it up to her by celebrating Hanukkah. ( I’ll probably transcribe that encounter from the companion novel at the end of this post. ) 

 I mean, maybe I should not be as upset by this as I am - because I’m not religious and have never been Jewish ever in my life. 

However, I’ve also had experienced the frustration and big sad™ when something that me and a loved one did together was discarded and this just doesn’t set well with me. 

( I think I will make more references to this ( even if she is non - practicing ) as a nod to the fact Hanna felt it was important enough to mention to Isabel during the Christmas party. ) 

First Reference: 

Hanna drove slowly the rest of the way home, taking deep, cleansing breaths. After gunning the car up her family’s driveway, she nearly crashed into a line of vehicles she didn’t recognize. There had to be about fifteen sedans, SUVs, and crossovers parked in the circular drive. Then she noticed something blinking by the garage. Christmas lights. And was that a glow-in-the-dark Santa and an inflatable gingerbread man in the front yard? She took tentative steps toward the house. Dot, wearing some kind of bizarre headpiece, yipped at her feet when she walked inside. Wait. Were those reindeer antlers? Hanna scooped him up and stared at the two plush stalks on his head. Each was tipped with a tiny jingle bell. “Who did this to you?” Hanna whispered, ripping them off. Dot just licked her face. She looked around the living room and gasped. Holly leaves snaked around the banister. A mechanical Mrs. Claus waved from the console table that had once held Hanna’s mother’s austere ceramic vases. A tall, tinsel-laden tree stood in the corner, and the fireplace, which Hanna couldn’t remember the family ever using, was ablaze. “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” played on the stereo at maximum volume, and the whole house smelled like honey-glazed ham. “Hello?” Hanna called out. Laughter floated out from the kitchen, first Isabel’s goose-honk chortle, then her dad’s booming guffaw. Hanna rounded the corner. The kitchen was packed with people holding champagne flutes and appetizer plates filled with mini quiches and wedges of Brie. Many of them wore Santa hats, including Hanna’s dad. Isabel stood in the corner, wearing a red velvet dress tipped with Mrs. Claus white fur on the cuffs and hem, and Kate had on a tight-fitting red jersey sheath and black-and-white Kate Spade heels. Mistletoe hung from the chandelier, a carafe of mulled cider sat on the counter, and plates and plates of the most delicious-looking Christmas cookies and appetizers filled the island. Isabel spied Hanna and glided over. “Hanna! Feliz Navidad! O Tannenbaum! Merry Christmas!” Hanna sniffed. “Um, actually, I’m Jewish. And so is my father.” Isabel blinked dumbly, like she couldn’t comprehend that anyone, let alone her own fiancé, could celebrate anything other than Christmas. Mr. Marin appeared at Isabel’s side. “Hey, sweetie,” he said, ruffling Hanna’s hair. Hanna stared at him incredulously. “Since when do you celebrate Christmas?” She said the word like she might have said Satan’s birthday. Mr. Marin crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “I’ve been celebrating it with Isabel and Kate for the past few years. I told Kate to tell you.” “Well, she didn’t,” Hanna said flatly. “We do the Twelve Days of Christmas every year. We always kick it off with a bash.” Isabel took a sip of champagne. “It’s a wonderful tradition. We started early this year with tonight—kind of a housewarming-meets-Christmas thing.” “And we’d like you to be a part of the tradition too, of course,” Mr. Marin added. Hanna stared at all of the red and green paraphernalia. Her family had never been that religious, but they lit menorah candles every night of Hanukkah. On Christmas Day, they ordered Chinese takeout, watched movie marathons, and went on a long family bike ride if the weather was decent. She liked those traditions.

Second Mention: 

She pulled into the driveway of her house, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and watch hours and hours of bad TV. Strangely, her father’s car was still in the driveway—not at Longwood Gardens. And the Christmas decorations that had festooned the front of the property were gone. When she opened the front door, it no longer smelled like fresh pine and cinnamon sticks but more like . . . potato pancakes? “Hanna!” Mr. Marin appeared from the kitchen. “There you are! Come in, come in! We have a surprise for you!” He whisked Hanna through the living room, but not before she noticed that the mechanical Mrs. Claus had vanished, the Christmas tree was unlit, and the stockings that had hung over the fireplace—there were monogrammed ones for Isabel, Kate, and Hanna’s dad, and a blank one presumably for Hanna—had been taken down. The old silver menorah Bubbe Marin had given Hanna’s parents sat on the mantel. Three candles blazed. “What’s going on?” Hanna asked suspiciously. Mr. Marin turned Hanna toward the dining room. There was a huge spread of food on the table, and Kate and Isabel were sitting in high-backed chairs, tepid smiles on their faces. “Surprise!” Mr. Marin crowed. “Happy Hanna-kah!” Hanna blinked at the items on the table. There were all the traditional Hanukkah foods her grandmother used to serve: latkes, jelly donuts called sufganiyot, kugel, chocolate coins, and a large brisket. Off to the side were the old dreidels she and her cousins had spun for hours, turning the game into a kind of truth or dare—if the dreidel fell on the gimel side, Tamar, her younger cousin, had to steal a dollar out of her mother’s wallet, and so on. A blue foil banner with Star of David cutouts was draped across the windows, and candles glowed around the room. Small gifts wrapped in silver paper sat on everyone’s plates. “I thought you guys were going to Santa’s Village,” Hanna said slowly. “Oh, we can do that any day,” Mr. Marin said. “I thought you might be a little upset since we’re doing so many Christmas activities, so we thought we’d celebrate our holiday tonight! Hanukkah—or Hanna-kah!” He gestured to the food on the table. “Kate and Isabel did some baking this evening, though some of this came from the kosher deli near Ferra’s Cheesesteaks.” “Your dad says you know all of the Hanukkah stories, Hanna,” Isabel said politely. “I’d love to hear them.” “This is all so nice.” Hanna’s heart expanded, just like the Grinch’s. This was definitely the nicest thing her dad had done for her in a long, long time. Her father passed around plates, and everyone began serving themselves latkes and pieces of brisket bathed in sauce. Hanna took a moderate amount of food, feeling virtuous from boot camp. Wine was poured—even Hanna and Kate got some—and everyone opened their gifts. Kate and Hanna got gift cards to Fermata Spa. Isabel got a small Christmas tree–shaped charm to add to her silver Pandora bracelet. Mr. Marin had given himself a new Swiss Army knife. He immediately unfolded the scissors and cut the tag off of Isabel’s bauble. Then, Mr. Marin launched into stories about Bubbe Marin, who used to make the best potato pancakes in the world. “We used to go over there every night of Hanukkah,” he explained. “She’d always have huge gifts for Hanna.” “Isn’t that sweet,” Isabel trilled, looking surprised, as though she’d never imagined someone would shower Hanna with gifts. “And she had this African gray parrot, Morty,” Mr. Marin went on, spearing a latke. “He knew every swearword in the world.” “He was crazy!” Hanna giggled. “I think I learned some new ones from him!” “And he loved to watch those tabloid shows—what were they called?” Mr. Marin’s face was flushed. “E! News,” Hanna repeated. “He was obsessed with Giuliana Rancic. Remember? He said she was such a pretty bitch in that crazy bird voice!” “Who’s Giuliana Rancic?” Isabel asked, blinking quickly. Hanna’s father was too busy shaking with laughter to answer. Hanna laughed too, also not bothering to fill Isabel in. It felt nice to have an inside joke with her father again, something from their lives before Isabel and Kate. They continued eating, sharing stories about Hanna’s grandmother’s obsessions with yard sales, animal figurines, and her crush on Bob Barker from The Price Is Right. By the time the meal was over, Hanna and her dad kept bursting into laughter but not bothering to explain themselves. Isabel rose to clear the table, but Mr. Marin waved her to sit down. “I can clean up,” he said.

Third Reference: 

Now, Hanna sighed. After her new family had thrown Hanna a Hanukkah bone a few nights ago, everything had gone back to normal shortly afterward. The Twelve Days of Christmas nonsense had resumed, though Hanna had been able to get out of a lot of it because of boot camp.

[babsxkean]

the sea of my own doubt

Endlessly, For you I'll always wait, Caught in the waves of hesitation, Lost in the sea of my own doubt, Endlessly, For you I'll always wait, For you I'll always wait

who: barbara kean-gordon, carmine falcone, featuring mentions of @twxcethetrouble

when: june 14, 2020 (barbara’s 43rd birthday) 

where: carmine falcone’s mansion, the kean-gordon family home

barbara asks carmine falcone for a favor, only to find a surprise birthday present (or two) when she gets home. 

tw: death, brief allusion to body issues 

On the morning of her 43rd birthday, Barbara Kean-Gordon woke up, fed and dressed her infant son, and left him with a babysitter.

She drove out of town, to the elegant manors flung out over the acreage that remained between the city limits and the state border. Pulling up to a pair of wrought iron gates, she didn’t have to stop -- they opened smoothly for her, because he knew she was coming.

The winding, oak-lined driveway was familiar, not only because she had visited this particular house before, but also because it reminded her of the one she had grow up in. Her family also had deep roots in Gotham, going back to the founding of the city. She had never quite known where their wealth had come from, at first with the innocence of a child accepting her world for what it was, and later simply due to the fact that she became increasingly sure it was better not to know.

She -- finally -- reached the end of the driveway, and before she could open the door herself, a uniformed butler had materialized and done so for her. “He’s expecting me?” Barbara pressed, because in these circumstances it certainly didn’t hurt to be sure, and the man nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He led her inside, and as they crossed the marble entryway, Barbara felt, fleetingly and faintly, like herself for the first time in days. There was something about the sound of heels on a hard floor that she had always loved. It made her feel powerful and in control.

She was shown into a parlor near the back of the house. A swinging door beyond must have led to the kitchen -- she could smell something baking, a touch of cinnamon swirling through the air. The butler pulled out a chair at a table by the window, and she sat. In the blink of an eye, there was a cup of tea in front of her, complete with a small pitcher of milk, a bottle of honey and a sugarbowl.

“My goodness, you’re expedient,” she murmured. The butler only smiled blandly before withdrawing from the room.

She was alone only for a few moments before the swinging door opened, and Carmine Falcone filled the doorway.

He still cut an imposing figure, even at his age, she thought. Tall and broad-shouldered, his solemn face enlivened by bright blue eyes, he was impeccably dressed, as always. She wondered if he had put on the beautiful, three-piece Italian suit just for her, or if this was just what he wore every day.

“Barbara,” he said, and reached for her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers. “I am so very sorry for your loss, my dear. I knew your parents for many years, and as for Jim…”

Her chest tightened, and Carmine gently placed her hand back on the tabletop. “He made many mistakes in defense of this city, but they came from truly noble intentions,” he said. “There are few good men left in Gotham, and I believe he was one of them.”

She glanced down, nodding. “I think so, too.”

Carmine slid into the seat across from her, taking up much more of his chair than she did of hers. “Now,” he said, as the butler reappeared with a cup of tea and its accoutrements for him. “What can I do for you?”

Barbara took a deep breath, looking up at him. “I want back in,” she said softly. Carmine’s expression didn’t flicker at all from its polite interest. “I don’t expect to get my territory back, but I was hoping…” She swallowed and straightened up, lifting her chin; at that, she thought she saw a ghost of a smile. “I was hoping you had a place for me in your organization. Or if you could help smooth the way for me.”

She waited as he fixed his tea, stirred it with a delicate silver spoon, and took a sip. “You gave up the life for your baby,” he said. “For your family. Why do you want to return to it?”

I want to watch this city burn, she thought. I want to watch its people suffer for what they took from my family.

The city of Gotham had only ever caused the Gordons pain. From Jim’s father dying in a car accident that may not have been an accident at all, to Babs suffering at the hands of the Joker, to Jim losing his life defending Gotham one last time, it was like the city marked them out for special disfavor. Not to mention how little the GCPD or the population at large had ever appreciated Jim, had ever appreciated everything he had done for them. His victories had never been enough for them, and his defeats had always been written large in their collective memory.

But Carmine Falcone, as inexplicably as her husband had, loved this city. So she knew she couldn’t tell him that. “The only way to protect the people you love in Gotham is if you have enough power,” she said. And even then, that wasn’t a guarantee. But it was better than nothing.

“That’s true,” Carmine agreed.

She waited while he took another sip of his tea, his eyes on hers over the rim of the porcelain cup. He set the cup down, dabbed at his lips with a napkin, and reached across again for her hand. “Gotham is in tumult,” he said. As if she wasn’t well aware of this. “But I will do what I can for you. Territory is up for grabs that normally wouldn’t be. I will pull some strings in the coming days, and see what I can land.”

He squeezed her hand before letting go. “And if you need me for anything else, please, don’t hesitate to ask,” he added. “Not just territory. I’ve always admired you, Barbara Kean-Gordon. You have the strength and the steel to do what needs to be done. That’s a rare quality.”

She managed a faint smile and stood up. Carmine stood, too, putting his hand lightly on the small of her back as he walked her to the door, where the butler had appeared yet again to guide her out. She and Lurch were halfway across the front hall before Carmine called out.

“Oh, and Barbara? Happy birthday.”

-

In the end, it turned out to be much simpler than that.

She had told Carmine that she hadn’t expected her old territory back, and that had been true. Truth be told, she really hadn’t given Old Gotham very much thought -- she’d assumed that she would be handed a new, inconsequential parcel of territory to babysit, and she would have to work from there. But as long as she had to wait for Carmine to pull his strings, she figured she might as well try.

Not to mention, it was on her way home, and she had no desire to go back to that empty house, especially on her birthday.

Barbara had gone in expecting some resistance, if not an argument, but to her surprise, Twice -- she assumed it was Twice rather than Ronni, since Twice always spoke to her like they were enemies on a teen soap opera -- had just flippantly agreed.

She’d opened her mouth to ask why Twice was being so agreeable, before she came to the conclusion that, much like the origin of her family wealth, it was probably better not to know.

She left with the feeling that she’d just been given a present, one that she wanted, but one that came with a price that she herself would have to pay for. With a shake of her head, she climbed back into her car and finally headed home. If something was finally going right for her after the past week, she shouldn’t question it.

-

After she picked up Peter from the babysitter, she drove home. She caught a glimpse of something on the front stoop as she pulled into the driveway, and her heart skipped a beat for a moment -- this being Gotham, and this being their family, her first thought was some sort of bomb.

But as she peered through the windshield, hand on the driveshaft to reverse back down the driveway, she realized they were flowers.

With Peter’s car seat dangling from the curve of her arm, she bent down to pick up the flowers with her free hand. Lilies, her favorite, tied together with a pink ribbon, with a card tucked among the long green stems.

She left the flowers on the front hall table as she took Peter back to his nursery, changing his diaper and putting him down for a nap. There wasn’t any sign of her daughter, so she neglected to start dinner; if Babs came home, they could always order takeout, and if not, Barbara had virtually no appetite anymore.

(She tried to ignore the small, bitter flicker of pleasure that gave her, thinking of how her mother would -- would have -- approved.)

Eventually, she returned to the flowers, expecting them to be from Oswald, or Zatanna, or perhaps Lee, if any of them had remembered. She slipped the card free and opened the envelope, idly trying to recall where the vase was, when the sight of familiar handwriting made her breath catch in her throat.

Happy Birthday, Barbara!

I know I’ve been really busy with work lately. I know I’m always busy with work. I’m sorry.

Let’s go out for dinner tonight when I come back from work. Even if I’m not up to it, just bug me until I agree again. I’m writing this a couple weeks in advance, just to make sure you get it for today.

I’ve never really been great at this romantic stuff but I hope you know I love you.

Love,

Jim

She put her free hand to her mouth, her lips trembling, and she wasn’t sure if they were trying to frame a sob or form a smile. There would be no dinner, of course, no begging him until he agreed. But she knew, if he had been here, they would have gone -- perhaps they would have brought the children, perhaps it would have been just the two of them, but they would have gone. He had never missed her birthday before, from 16 to 42.

Even when he’d been in the army, she remembered, both years he had managed to call her, and they had eaten dinner together over the phone.

I hope you know I love you.

“I know,” she said, her voice so soft that it was almost inaudible. “I know.”

He had loved her more than she deserved, and yet, at the same time -- the disloyal thought came to her for only a moment before she pushed it away, but it came nonetheless: not enough. He hadn’t loved her, or their family, enough to put them first.

If it had been her, she would have dispatched her men, no matter how thinly spread that made them, and then she would have found her family. She would have gathered them to her, and made sure they were safe. She and Jim would have weathered this storm together, keeping themselves and their children out of harm’s way. And let the rest of the city and its woebegone inhabitants be damned.

But Jim lacked the selfishness, or the self-preservation skills depending on your point of view, that Barbara had always held in spades. She cared predominantly about those in her inner circle, and those outside of it could be left to fend for themselves, or fail to do so, if the circumstances dictated. By contrast, Jim thought he could save everyone, and if that meant sacrificing himself, she suspected that was all the better for him.

She gave a hard shake of her head as if to clear it, and she took the flowers into the kitchen, carefully tucking the card into her pocket. Digging around in the cabinets, she found the vase and began to fill it with water.

The sound of the water splashing around in the crystalline throat of the vase almost drowned out the text alert on her phone. Turning the faucet off with one hand, she reached into her pocket with the other, frowning in confusion when she saw an unknown number.

[text: Unknown]: Next year, I’ll be there. Have faith. Even in the darkest times, there will be light.

It took her a moment to understand what she was reading, and the implications of the words. She sat down hard at the kitchen table, and it was frankly only serendipitous that she had been standing by a chair; if she hadn’t been, she would have gone right to the floor.

(Like she had that night, when Harvey Bullock had called her to tell her -- his voice choked -- that Jim was either missing, or -- )

She had presumed dead, even though there had been no body, because there was no way Jim would have gone this long without coming home to them. Not unless he couldn’t come home.

But maybe, she thought, staring at the text message -- it didn’t occur to her until it was too late to try texting the number back, and by then it was out of service -- she had been right, in a way. He couldn’t come home.

Yet.

He was out there, somewhere, and she hoped he was somewhere safe, away from all of this. She didn’t know why he’d had to leave, but she knew it must be to keep them -- herself, Babs and Peter -- out of harm’s way.

Perhaps the Joker had forced his hand somehow. She would figure it out later, because it mattered; but for right now, she focused on the fact that the love of her life was not gone. At least not forever.

The text message she sent in return, too late, was something that she hoped he knew, even if her words didn’t reach him.

I’ll be waiting. I believe in you.

[spooderson]

So, basically, I wrote this while coping with my emotions after seeing endgame twice in two days... There’s no spoilers in this as this is not canon compliant?

Contais a lot of Tony being a dad, and just general irondad and spiderson fluff

read on ao3

I’ll be there when you need me

It was the next week after getting shot at Delmar’s and Peter still hadn’t gotten enough sleep. Sure, now that Tony and Pepper were back home with him, his nightmares had gotten a little bit better, but he still had them at least thrice a week and insomnia kept him up until 4am the nights that he didn’t have them. He didn’t tell Tony though – he didn’t want to bother the man. Tony had already done so much for him – he’d taken him in when he had no one left, held him at aunt May’s funeral while he sobbed and ruined Tony’s expensive suit, stayed up with him the following weeks when he’d wake up screaming for May…

It was Saturday and Peter had woken up crying and terrified at 5am. He had asked Friday if everyone was alright, then after Friday had reassured him that everyone was fine and still sleeping, Peter got up, took a shower and went to make breakfast. After Tony had taken him in, Tony and him making breakfast on Saturdays had become a tradition in the Stark household, but since Peter felt kind of hungry and it was still early, he thought he’d make breakfast by himself. Once Peter walked into the kitchen, he took out the “cookbook for dummies” that Pepper had gotten them, after they had almost burned the kitchen down while trying to make French toast. Shuffling through the pages, Peter found a recipe for waffles that didn’t look too hard to make, so he got out all the bowls and started on the batter. He was halfway done making breakfast, when Tony strolled into the kitchen, looking a little tired and stifling a yawn.

“I thought we were partners, Pete. Yet here you are, making breakfast by yourself on a Saturday” said Mr. Stark while trying to drag him away from the waffle iron.

“In my defense, I woke up hungry and you were still sleeping, so I really didn’t have a choice – I was forced to ̶ “ Peter was cut off and manhandled into sitting in the barstool while Tony took over the waffle making.

“You could’ve woken me up, I wouldn’t have minded. Plus, we said that we’d make it tradition to make breakfast together.”

“I thought you’d want to sleep in, enjoy some peace and quiet with Pepper.”

“Ahmm, and how is your sleeping? I asked Friday how much you’ve slept this week. And you know what she said? She said… She said that you slept a total of 16 hours this week. You’re supposed to be better than me.”

Tony gave Peter a plate of waffles while trying to make eye contact with the boy, but Peter just looked at the ground. Tony sighted and after telling Peter to eat up went to get Pepper. After a few minutes, the whole family was sitting in the kitchen eating waffles and bantering as usual, Tony’s and Peter’s little conversation seemingly forgotten.

After breakfast, Pepper went to do some work for SI, apparently there were important meetings even on a Saturday, and Tony decided to drag Peter out for some ice cream and hopefully to buy him some new shoes – Pete’s converse literally had holes in them. They went down to the garage and after getting into one of Tony’s less flashy cars drove off to the shopping center.

“You’re really not going to tell me what’s wrong, are you?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Tony. I’m just not tired, that’s why I slept so little this past week”

Tony just quietly looked at him for a few seconds and focused back on the road. They spent the rest of the journey to the mall listening to AC/DC, while Peter moodily stared out the window and Tony occasionally threw worried glances at the teen. After getting to the mall they first went to get some ice cream and then Tony started dragging Peter through all the clothing and shoe stores that he saw. In every single store, Tony would tell Peter to get whatever he wanted and Pete would say that he had enough clothes and that his shoes were still wearable and he didn’t need any of this, so Tony would just end up picking the clothes and shoes he thought Peter would wear. The last store they went, had a whole section of avengers themed clothes and accessories, and after Peter had once again said that he didn’t need anything Tony went wild and bought Peter everything that had iron man on it.

In the end, they left the mall with about 20 different bags all full of clothes and shoes for Peter. Tony felt satisfied knowing that now his kid would finally have to stop walking around SI with shoes and sweaters that had holes in them – one time Happy had to rush to the front desk of SI, just because one of the new guards hadn’t believed when Peter, who was wearing a sweater with a massive hole in it, had said he lived there and had told him that this wasn’t a shelter for the homeless. The guard had been immediately fired and Peter was forced to throw out that particular sweater, but that hadn’t solved the problem, the kid would just grab another worn down sweater. Tony planned to personally make sure, that all of Peters clothes that had holes in them would be gone by Monday and replaced by the clothes they just bought.

Back at the tower, once they had some lunch – tacos, to be exact, Peter went to do his homework and Tony got comfy on one of the couches in the living room and decided to, for once, do some paperwork for SI. That’s how they spent the time until Pepper came home and then they all cuddled down on the couch to watch TV. Peter had convinced them that they just needed to see “To all the boys I’ve loved before” so that’s what they ended up watching, or, at least, Tony and Pepper ended up watching it, as Peter had fallen asleep with his head on Tony’s shoulder and legs in Pepper’s lap twenty minutes into the movie. Once the movie was over and Tony was certain that Peter won’t wake up if he moves him, he stood up and carefully carried him back to the, so called, spider lair (aka Peter’s bedroom). There, he wrapped Peter up in all three of the boy’s blankets and after quietly whispering an “I love you, kiddo” and telling Friday to wake him up if Peter wakes up during the night went back to join Pepper in the living room.

“You know, I could try talking to him about it. He talked to me about May, I’m sure I could get him to open up about his sleeping problem, if he really has it.”

“I don’t know, Pep… When I took him in... I promised that I’d be there for him for as long as he wants me to. And now, now he’s suffering, and he won’t let me help. I’m failing him, Pep”

“That’s not true and you know it, Tony. Peter absolutely adores you. You’re his idol. He still has this starry look in his eyes whenever he’s looking at you. All you have to do, all we have to do, is be patient with him, he’s going to open up about this sooner or later, and our job is to be there, to catch him when he falls.”

“What would I do without you”

“Mhm,you wouldn't survive a week. Let’s go to bed.”

- - - - - - -

Peter woke up crying at 3am, and just a few moments later, his bedroom doors opened and a worried Tony ran into his bedroom. He walked over to Peter, and when he saw him crying swiftly pulled him into a hug.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, not wanting to push the kid, but also hoping to make him talk.

“No” was the near silent answer that he got from Peter, who had wrapped his arms around Tony and was currently crying while hiding his face in Tony’s sweatshirt.

“Alright, but just know, that if you ever want to talk about anything, and I mean anything, me and Pep are always there to listen. Understood? You’re never a bother and we’ll always make time for you. We love you so much.”

“Don’t leave, please. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m never leaving you, Pete. Let’s lay down, okay? You’ll go back to sleep and I’ll stay with you ‘til the morning.”

Tony didn’t get a reply, but Peter moved to lay back down, and after they both got situated on the bed, Tony started playing with Peter’s curls and singing the Italian lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was little.

Peter slept through the rest of the night, then, when morning came, he told his mom and dad about the nightmares – the ones where they die and the ones where he’s trapped under the crashed building – and when they quietly listened to him and then promised to help him get through it, Peter felt as if a heavy weight that he didn’t even know he had had been lifted.

[alyssaiswriting]

Tell Me Why

This is Part Two of Keep It To Myself 

Summary: High School au

You want to why Zabdiel continues talking to his ex

Word Count: 2281

When Monday rolls around you're left to face the consequences you get for making out with your friend Saturday night.

Chris and Erick are laughing as Richard describes every detail of the kiss, Joel sits beside you listening but not really caring enough to laugh.

"And I gotta admit y/n you're a good kisser" Richard smirks, you grab a grape off your lunch tray and throw it at him, Richard laughs as he catches it and pops it into his mouth with a wink.

"I'm sorry you didn't get your turn man" Richard claps his hand on Zabdiel's back.

Zabdiel who sits across from you is just looking at Richard with an emotionless expression.

"That's such a gross thing to say Richard" Joel shakes his head.

"Okay okay, I'm sorry," Richard tells you raising his hands in defense.

Chris reaches across the table to grab your half a burger that you're not eating anymore. You don't even acknowledge it, Chris is always eating whatever you leave.

The bell soon rings and the whole cafeteria stands to throw away their trash.

As you're walking to the trash cans you feel someone walk up behind you "how do you think he'll react if I told him how much we actually do" Zabdiel whispers in your ear. You look over at him as he smirks "and how much you love my tongue" teasing evident in his tone and then his voice deepens "and when I suck on your-" you roughly push him away and he laughs loudly.

You're cheeks burn red as you look at Zabdiel who sends you a wink before walking ahead to throw his tray. Flashbacks of the night in his car replay in your mind and it doesn't help to ease the reddening of your cheeks.

You're not usually a blunt person but the mix of jealousy and alcohol really made you bold that night.

 "Whoa, why is your face so red?" Joel asks walking up beside you.  

Later that day you're walking out of your last class with Joel, he's talking about this girl he has a crush on.

"Just ask her out" you shrug as you adjust your backpack so it's easier to carry.

You both walk out of the front doors of the school "I want to but, no" Joel shakes his head "Jo you need to step out of your comfort zone at least once" you sigh.

"No that's how people get hurt!" he defends himself making you roll your eyes.

You scan over the parking lot before your eyes land on a certain tall blonde dyed head.

He's talking with Fiona at a bench. He's facing away from you so you can't see his face but you can see hers as she laughs.

"Did you ask what they were talking about at the party?" Joel asks.

You shake your head. "You spent all day Sunday together and you didn't ask what he was doing talking to his ex-girlfriend?" Joel exclaims.

"He didn't go home with her and that's all that matters" you snap. "Plus we're not even dating" you turn away from the two and start walking to Joel's car since he's your ride home.

"Ok but we went over this" Joel follows after you "if he's still having sex with her and you too, that's really gross so you need to talk to him," Joel says.

You don't say anything, instead sliding into his passenger seat. You're silent the whole ride home and Joel allows you to be, he can practically see your wheels turning and he knows you're just trying to figure out your next move.

When he arrives at your house you bid your goodbyes and walk straight to your room after entering your house.

You end up taking a nap and waking up a couple hours later to your phone ringing. You answer without checking the Caller ID.

"Hello" your voice is slightly deeper due to just being awoken from your slumber.

"Hey can I come over?" you immediately recognize Zabdiel's voice.

"Not tonight," you say.

"Why? We're just gonna hang out, nothing else" he says.

"I'm not in the mood Zabdiel" you sigh.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asks "is that why Joel has been really passive aggressive towards me in the group chat?"

You sit up in your bed "I just need to figure some things out"

"Wha- about us?" he questions.

"See you tomorrow Zabdiel" you hang up the phone before he can say another word.

You toss your phone aside and get started on some homework, but not even 30 minutes later there's a tap at your window.

You window is facing your backyard which is fenced in so you're hesitant when pulling open your curtains.

You open it just a crack but let out a scoff when you see Zabdiel standing on the other side.

Opening your window you glare at him "what are you doing here? And how did you even get back here?"

"Jumped the fence" he gently pushes you aside so he can climb into your room.

"And we need to talk," he says.

"Zabdiel, I need to do homework" you run a hand through your hair.

Zabdiel ignores you, walking to your bed and sitting down facing you.

"What's bothering you cariño?" he questions.

You debate on actually telling him or just dropping it because you two aren't dating and you have no reason to be getting jealous, but you also want to know what's going on between Zabdiel and his ex.

"I saw you talking to Fiona at the party and then again today after school if we're going to be doing this" you gesture towards him and yourself "then we can't be having sex with other people also," you say.

Zabdiel's eyebrows scrunch together and for a second you think he's gonna flip out so you say "and if you're planning to get back with her then just let me know so we can stop this immediately, I'm not about to be somebody's side hoe"

Zabdiel squints "y/n" he stands to his feet " it's not like that"

"Then how is it like?" you question.

"I-" he stops himself before looking at you with a sympathetic look "I can't tell you"

You frown "Zabdiel please just leave" you go to walk past him but he grabs your arm "y/n please"

"We can't continue this if you don't tell me why you still talk to her," you say a little too loud.

"It's not my secret to tell!" he says back just as loud as you.

"Y/n" your doorknob starts jiggling but luckily you always lock your door. You start pushing Zabdiel towards the window "get out, get out before they catch you"

"Y/n" your mom shouts on the other side.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Zabdiel says as he starts climbing out the window.

"Yeah ok leave" you shove him making him fall to the ground with a thud on the other side.

"Are you okay?" you say sticking your head out of the window to look at him on the ground.

He gives you a thumbs up and you nod before quickly shutting the window and closing the curtains before running to unlock your door.

Friday

You managed to successfully avoid speaking to Zabdiel, every time he tries to get you alone you quickly run and look for Joel or when he messages you, you either don't reply or give him one-word replies. You've also been sleeping at your cousin's house all to avoid anymore surprise visits.

Today you drove to school so when dropping off Joel after school he asked for you to stay for a while.

You guys end up taking a nap and not waking up till 7 pm so you just stay a while longer till about 11, cause you're supposed to pick up your mom from her job at a motel at 12 am.

You park in the parking lot and send a text to your mom that you're there before dropping your phone in the cup holder and scanning the parking lot.

As you look over to the car beside you, your eyes widen at Fiona in the driver side of the parked car beside you.

She's biting her lip as she keeps her eyes on the motel rooms section. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion turning your head to look to the rooms before looking back at her.

You watch as she sinks slightly in her seat. You look back in the direction of her line of sight.

A man and a woman walk out of a room laughing with each other before the man pulls the woman into a long passionate kiss.

They pull apart and it's only when the man turns around that you recognize him from all the school events he's attended.

It's Fiona's dad and you know that's not her mother.

You watch dumbfounded as her dad waves to the woman and walks over to his car across the parking lot.

He pulls out of the parking lot and drives off and that's when you turn your head to see Fiona still staring after where his vehicle disappeared.

Maybe it's that she felt your gaze but she turns to your direction to see you already staring back at her.

Your eyes widen and you quickly look away and sink down in your seat. Your mom knocks on your window and you jump in your seat.

Placing a hand over your heart you unlock the door for her.

"What were you staring at?" your mom asks.

You look back over to see Fiona still staring back at you.

You shake your head. "Nothing"

Saturday morning you have the house to yourself so you watch tv as loudly as you want and eat everything in sight.

That is until your doorbell rings and interrupts your favorite Netflix show.

With a groan, you stand from your bed and walk very sluggishly to the front door.

When you pull the door open your met with Zabdiel in a black beanie, a distressed white shirt, and black skinny jeans. You immediately straighten up already having an idea as to why he doesn't look his usual cheerful self.

"Fiona called me last night," he says.

You curl your lips into your mouth and gesture for him to come inside.

"If she sent you over here to make sure I don't tell anyone, you know I'm not like that" you turn to him after shutting the door.

"You can't tell Joel either," he says making you pout. Even if you promise you won't tell anyone you always tell Joel he's your best friend and all your secrets are his.

"But that's not the only thing, she told me I could tell you everything" you nod and lead the way back to your room.

Zabdiel takes a seat on the bed as you pick up the bowl of popcorn and a bag of hot Cheetos setting them on your nightstand to take to the kitchen later.

"Fiona and I have known each other a long time, you know that," Zabdiel says making you nod.

"Our parents are friends and for as long as I remember Fiona and I have told each other everything, she was my first and only best friend for a long time." you nod wanting him to continue.

"her dad has always been unfaithful, that's not a shocker. but her parents started going to counseling. I mean why go to counseling if you're not gonna try?" Zabdiel's eyebrows scrunch together. "but that's not the only reason I still talk to her. Fiona has anxiety and depression and for so long I've been the one to be there for her. I know how to help her out of an anxiety attack, I know who to call when I feel like her depression is getting too much. and I can't stop talking to her just because we broke up. I can't leave her alone"

You nod in understanding "you didn't have to tell me all that" you look down feeling guilty because you basically forced it out of him by not talking to him.

"no, it's okay, she let me tell you because she knows how much I like you" your looking at your lap when he says this. you scrunch your eyebrows not wanting to look up at him in case he takes it back.

"what?" you say lowly.

"what?" Zabdiel asks unsure of what you're questioning.

you finally look up at him you're heart pounding almost painfully against your chest as you force yourself to ask "did you just say you like me?"

Zabdiel frowns "why are you looking at me like that?"

"like how?" you ask

"like you're so surprised? you can't seriously be shocked by this?"

"I didn't think you genuinely liked me, I thought you just liked to fuck" you say

"I-" he cuts himself off shaking his head "I've liked you for so long and I never said anything cause I thought you only wanted sex"

your mouth drops as you stare at the boy before you, "I've been a jealous bitch all week and you seriously didn't think 'hmm maybe she likes me'??"

"I mean maybe I just didn't want to get my hopes up" he shrugs and your heart swells at the insecurity and all you want to do is hug and kiss his cute face.

so with a laugh, you pull him to you in a hug "stupid"

You both pull back to look at each other. Your eyes fall to his lip as you smile, he mimics the gesture before you both lean forward counting in a passionate kiss.

AN 

I was pushed to write this for a week

also if you’ve read the 2nd book of the To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before books then you know exactly what part I took from there lol

[avaalons]

Chris Evans Fic: Disney Princess Series Part 4 (The Trip)

Chris’ Disney Princess Series

Disney Princess Obsession

Disney Princess Reality

This is the third instalment of the Disney Princess series:

***

Disney on its own was pretty mesmerising. Disney with Chris’ family was… magical. It took you a few days to really embrace their closeness, having not really experienced it before, despite your many siblings. All the members of your family were perfect individuals, islands dotted all over the world, but Chris’ family were a complete unit and it was clear to see every single day.

You’d been even a little overwhelmed at first when you had arrived at the villa. True to his word, Chris had organised everything perfectly around your schedule. The family had arrived at their villa a day earlier but you’d had some meetings to attend so had caught a flight the day after.

Chris had picked you up at the airport, his demeanour so casual and open, sunglasses and a bright smile adorning his face, it was as if this was a total everyday occurrence, as if he always picked you up from the airport and drove you to see his family.

You had chatted easily in the car and he shared some of the plans for the rest of the evening and the following days. He gave you another run down of the names of his family members and shared some stories about his niece and nephews and their excitement on their first day back in Disney. It was all too easy to believe that you’d had known Chris for years, that you had a place among his family. For the first, but definitely not the last, time, you sharply reminded yourself to avoid entertaining any thoughts about Chris and yourself other than what theme park ride you’d be going on next.

Upon meeting his family, however, you were instantly welcomed by them all, as if you’d always been on vacation with them. They had been in the middle of preparing a big family dinner when you and Chris had arrived. Lisa, Chris’ mom, was managing things in the kitchen, giving her sons and daughters jobs to do while Chris’ nephews laid the table in between chasing each other around it. Lisa had wiped her hands with a cloth before pulling you into a hug. You’d been unable to keep the repeated tokens of thanks from spilling over but Lisa wouldn’t hear it, simply telling you how glad she was that you were there and how excited they all were to be able to show Disney off to you.

‘Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes or so. Chris, take her cases and show her to her room will you, give her some time to unpack before dinner. Was your flight okay?’ she said, turning her attention back to you at the end.

‘Yes, thank you. Someone,’ you gave Chris a side glance, ‘booked me into first class without me knowing.’

Chris simply smiled and shrugged, ‘You’re a Hollywood hotshot now, first class is something you’ll want to get used to on flights unless you want photos of you asleep and drooling on your own shoulder all over the internet.’

Lisa laughed, 'I’d expect nothing less of him anyway, nothing gets done by halves with this one. Go on, go and relax for a few before you have the face the craziness of dinner time with this rabble.’

Chris led you down a hallway off the main living area, pulling your case after him, pointing out who the rooms belonged to as you went. All the doors had an A4 paper name plate, clearly drawn by the younger members of the family, with little crayon pictures of the room’s owner alongside other associated images.

'We’re down here - I mean, my room is here, if you need anything,’ he pointed out his door, adorned with his name, his crayon replica (complete with fairly dense beard you noted) and a picture of a dog.

'Dodger?’ you asked, gesturing towards the door.

Chris smiled affectionately, 'Yeah, the kids decided our doors needed to be personalised this year. Let’s just be grateful it was on paper and not straight on to the woodwork. This is your room.’

To your surprise, you also had a name card, with your own crayon avatar. You wondered if Chris had shown the kids a photo of you. The rest of the space was filled with flowers, trees and birds. You reminded yourself to thank the children later.

Chris opened the door and flicked the light switch, 'So here you go, home sweet home for the next week.’

It was a light and spacious room with a large window on the opposite wall, a double bed that looked incredibly comfortable flanked by two night stands, and a dressing table and chair. There were two other doors, you assumed for an ensuite bathroom and a walk in closet. Someone had left fresh flowers on your dressing table and there were some books in a pile on one of the night stands.

'It’s lovely, thanks. It’s a really nice place.’

'Don’t worry that we’ll be offended if you want to spend time in here by the way. We totally understand that sometimes it’s a bit much being around us all 24/7. Don’t be afraid to take some time for yourself. Same for the days out - if you want to lounge by the pool or go off and do your own thing, just say so.’

You really appreciated that, and it reminded you that you had actually become good friends during your time working, probably better than you had initially given Chris credit for. He was clearly quite attuned to your temperament.

'Thanks, that’s really - I wouldn’t have wanted to seem rude. It’s just… this is so different to what I’m used to,’ you gestured vaguely back down the hallway you’d just come from.

Chris simply grinned, 'I know, I don’t think many people could prepare for this madness. But seriously, no one will think you are rude at all. I left you some books you might like to read and there’s a concealed flatscreen in the foot of the bed so feel free to make the most of it. I’ll give you a shout when dinner’s done.’

He made to leave and you called out to him just as his body had disappeared past the door frame. He popped his head back in question and you wished you hadn’t called him. Suddenly, what you wanted to say seemed so… lame.

'Just wanted to say thanks. For this. My own family never does things like this and… thank you for making me part of it.’

'My pleasure,’ he smiled warmly at you, before leaving you to unpack.

***

Chris walked back to the main living area in the villa, unable to stop his smile creeping over his mouth. His mom glanced over her shoulder at him from where she was preparing a salad in the kitchen and called him over.

'Can you chop these peppers for me, sweetheart?’ she said, gesturing to the brightly coloured bell peppers on the counter.

Chris picked up a knife and began slicing the top off one.

'She seems lovely,’ Lisa attempted to sound off hand and casual.

'Mom…’ Chris had a hint of warning in his voice, knowing his mom and her line of questioning too well.

'I’m just saying!’ Lisa pretended to be defensive, 'She seems like a lovely girl.’

There was a pause as they both prepared salad, the only sounds of knives hitting the chopping boards as they sliced and diced.

'Just, maybe take it slow wi-’

'Mom! Seriously! We’re friends, I told you this.’

'Christopher, you haven’t brought a 'friend’ to Disney since you were thirteen years old and you definitely didn’t leave flowers in their room. I’m just saying, be careful with her. If you use your usual tactic of getting all your feelings out there in one go, she’ll bolt. Try to reign in the excitable puppy side of your personality.’

'You literally just met her, how can you possibly know that?’

'Because she couldn’t be any different from the usual Hollywood set if she tried. She’s guarded and quiet. Don’t freak her out.’

'Okay, okay, I get it. I’ve been doing that anyway. We honestly are friends though and if that’s what she’s comfortable with, then that’s what we’ll be.’

***

You didn’t know whether it was Disney, or Chris’ family, or a combination of the two but by the end of the week, you’d never felt less awkward, less shy and less like yourself. You’d done it all: the rides, the shows, the character photos and you were now the proud owner of three different sets of mouse ears, and if you’d also purchased some incredibly sentimental Christmas tree ornaments of your favourite childhood characters to take back home with you, it was no big deal.

You’d loved everything and you had been pulled into the family with ease. Your phone was full of photos documenting all your activities and you’d shared them with the family in their group chat. At the Magic Kingdom, Chris had snatched your phone from you - 'there needs to be some pictures of you on here too!’ - and had kept hold of it for a few hours.

When you got it back and were scrolling through later on that night as you were tucked up in bed, you noticed just how carefree and happy and confident you looked. There were a couple of mouse ear selfies that Chris had made you take with him that made you laugh when you saw the faces he was pulling.

Tomorrow was going to be the last full day and you found you were disappointed. The time had gone so quickly. You laid your phone on the nightstand, plugging the charger in and watching as the screen brightened before darkening to the black sleep screen. You were going to miss this break from your life. You didn’t know if you’d escaped being recognised entirely - there might be a few candid cellphone shots of you floating around now - but you hadn’t been approached by anyone. Chris had a couple of times but it was nothing too intrusive and he was happy to oblige a few kids.

You’d have to go back to LA the day after tomorrow and this would all just become a memory to treasure. You were going to miss it, that much was certain. You thought about the photos Chris had taken on your phone: you were going to miss who you were around this family. You were going to miss Chris and you didn’t know what to do with that thought.

Kicking back your sheets in mild frustration, you rose from your bed and padded across the carpet to the door, trying with all the daintiness you possessed to open the door quietly. Tiptoeing through the villa, you headed to the sliding patio doors leading out to the pool. Settling into one of the loungers, you listened to the silence of the night and tried not to think about how alone you were going to feel after tomorrow.

***

Chris lay awake in his bed, thinking about you doing the same thing in the room next door. This week had been perfect. He’d loved seeing you loosen up and let go of some of those rules and boundaries you so clearly imposed on yourself most of the time. You’d fit right in: the kids included you in their games, you joined in with conversation over dinner like you’d always been there, and today you’d happily stood with everyone, smiling, when Carly had asked an attendant to take a picture of you all in front of the castle.

But he wasn’t used to being so… subtle. This was not his normal approach at all when he liked someone. He’d taken, what felt like to him, so many steps backwards away from this situation in order to not do anything to freak you out, he felt like things were moving in the exact opposite direction to the one he wanted. So today, he had gotten a little snap happy with your phone and had taken a chance on taking some selfies. You had both been wearing mouse ears and he pulled you to him, arm around your waist, fingers splayed against your hip, as he’d turned the camera to front facing. He had to admit, you were both fucking adorable. Best of all, you hadn’t backed off, and that was a very good sign.

His thoughts were disturbed by the quiet sounds of a door opening, the slight reverberation signalling that it was from the room next door. Chris lay still for a couple of seconds, wondering whether to follow you or not. When he didn’t hear anyone else moving around, he decided he would just go and check that you were okay, then head back to his room and give you the space you clearly wanted. That was all.

***

'Hey, everything okay?’

Despite his soft voice, you just about jumped out of your skin, so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t heard Chris’ footsteps to warn you of his presence. You whipped around to face him, hand pressed against your collar bones as you let out a nervous laugh.

'Chris!’ you half-whispered, 'Don’t sneak up on me like that!’

'Sorry!’ he grinned back at you, 'Want a beer?’

He held up two bottles in his hands. Now that you had calmed down, you were suddenly extremely aware that you’d been thinking pretty deeply about Chris and his presence in your life, and you were more than a little paranoid that it was all over your face. A beer could be just the thing to provide a mask.

'Sure,’ you replied, holding out a hand to take one from him.

'Mind if I sit?’

'No, course,’ you gestured to the lounger next to yours.

'Can’t sleep? Me neither.’

'Yeah, I was struggling to drift off. Quite warm tonight, isn’t it?’

'Yeah, a little,’ Chris replied, taking a sip from his bottle.

A silence settled over you, but it wasn’t awkward. There was some tension maybe, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable.

You knew then that if you told Chris right now that you thought you were developing feelings for him, he’d be all in. He was waiting for you, and had been since the moment he’d first met you on the red carpet.

You remembered the fall of his expression when you’d shrugged him off with politeness at your pre-filming meeting, you remembered the grateful smile of understanding you had shared when you’d intervened in front of the interviewer, you remembered the grin across his face when you’d insisted that you were just friends at the hotel. And you knew just how easy it would be for the two of you to be an us, if, of course, you didn’t have the whole world watching and if you weren’t an emotional recluse.

But that last statement wasn’t true, was it? You’d seen the pictures from today. You could let go and be yourself, there was photographic evidence of it. The aloof creature was just a shield you used to protect yourself in a harsh business, and it had worked up to now, but you knew it would take much more than that to protect you if you embarked on a… something… with Chris freaking Evans.

'Have you enjoyed yourself this week?’ Chris broke the silence, rolling his beer bottle between his palms.

'Oh god, so much. I’ve had the best time, honestly. I can’t thank you all enough for having me. I’m going to have to have you all over for dinner at mine when we’re back in LA,’ you couldn’t quite believe that particular idea had just come out of your mouth as you took another mouthful of beer.

Chris turned his soft, smiling gaze on you, 'You don’t owe us anything at all, it’s been awesome having you around. But that would be really sweet. My mom would take you up on that for sure. I’ll let you know the next time she’s in LA.’

There was another moment of silence before you spoke again, 'It’s going to be weird, going back to LA. I’m going to miss all this. My house is going to seem so empty,’ the truth that you were going to miss him most of all was left unspoken.

'I know, it’s an odd transition to make. It’s so easy to fall into Disney life. But you know, I’ll be around. Give me a call if you want to hang out.’

'Guess we’re not just work colleagues anymore, are we?’ You smiled at him around your beer bottle as you sipped again.

He let out a short laugh, 'No, I wouldn’t say so. I’ve forced you to be my friend.’

'I’m glad you did. I needed it.’

'You’ve always been beautiful, but this week, seeing you properly laugh and run around and play with the kids and make fun of me with Scott and just forget having to check yourself for appearance’s sake at every turn, it’s just - you’ve been shining, glowing even.’

'Chris… I-’ you started to speak but didn’t know what you were going to say. He’d called you beautiful. Beautiful.

'Don’t worry, that’s all I’m going to say, I promise,’ his voice was gentle, soft. He treated you so tenderly, had done all week long.

'Thank you,’ you whispered, not quite meeting his eyes.

[writing-crocodiles]

How about this for a rumbelle prompt? During the Black Fairy's curse Rumple isn't awake at first, so it's Mr. Gold that finds cursed!Belle in that house.

The police station was empty when Gold walked inside. He was careful as he wandered forward. There was no reason to rush, and so he strode past the deputy’s desk into the main area of the room. Sheriff Dove would be back soon and he figured he could just wait for the young man to get back. He noticed the long bench that stretched under the high windows and briefly fancied the idea of sitting down, but he was too antsy. Even if he was okay with waiting for the sheriff, sitting would drive him out of his mind. He settled on pacing the floor of the station instead.

Slow and deliberate steps allowed him to review the events of the day.

That morning he and Gideon ate a small breakfast. They used the car to get to work, Gold had teased Gideon about getting his own house, Fiona had stopped by- the book- Henry- investigation- pictures-

Lies.

Even if Belle had left to go see the world, how would Fiona have gotten those pictures? Even if the pictures weren’t so obviously photoshopped, they appeared to be from Belle’s personal camera. So, what? She sends Fiona Christmas cards updating her on her travels?

No. Gold wasn’t an idiot. Fiona wanted to hide something.

And Belle-

He stopped himself and his hands turned into fists, his nails digging into his palms. Turning his gaze to the sheriff’s desk, encased in the glass box, he saw something that intrigued him. Laying on the keyboard of the old monitor, was a manilla folder. He stepped closer and as he reached the door his hand found its way to the golden handle.

On the folder in blood red ink was stamped “Missing Person”. Then, in the same red, but smaller, scrawling cursive, was “Destroy immediately -F”   

He pulled on the door and it miraculously swung open. With short, choppy movements that still held an odd sense of fluidity, he entered and quickly closed the door behind him.

The folder seemed ominous, like it would bite him if he got too close. He knew he shouldn’t look at it. It was a missing person file, though. It could be Belle’s, but he had never seen this before. Why hadn’t he seen this before?

He quickly checked down the hall to make sure Sheriff Dove wasn’t coming back and then opened the folder. A page of what looked like an official document lay inside. His heart rate sped up as his eyes grazed over the typed words in the “name” box.

Belle Gold née French.

He scanned the page with cautious eyes, not wanting to miss a single detail. His hand stroked down the paper, running over old information. It included his address, Gideon’s information under “offspring”, his information under “spouse”, her-

His breath caught in his throat.

Her current address?

They knew where she was? Why hadn’t they-? Why?

Yet there it was:

845 Nix Lane

Storybrooke, Maine, USA

No, that couldn’t possibly be right. The town’s too small. If she was in Storybrooke he would have noticed her. She had to go to the grocery store sometime, didn’t she? 28 years hiding in plain sight? It seemed impossible, but if someone didn’t want to be found….

A sharp pain resonated in his chest, the feeling of the first realization she was gone still fresh in his mind.

Baby Gideon wailing upstairs.

Two empty bottles of whisky.

Midnight.

No note.

He couldn’t bear to sleep in their bed for over a week after that. He knew, however, that he couldn’t pity himself for too long. He had a son to take care of.

He removed his hand from the paper abruptly, almost as if it was what was giving his the bad memories. Without a final question he memorized the address, closed the manilla folder, set it back where he had found it, and left the police station.

He repeated the address over and over again in his head, visualizing where it was in town. Once in the car, he started to talk himself through what his plan was. Show up, ask why she left, try not to cry in front of her, hope there’s closure, hope she opens the door, hope it doesn’t hurt….

Who was he kidding? This was going to hurt like Hell.

He drove almost mindlessly to his destination. As he rolled to a half at a four-way stop, he re-evaluated. This was crazy. She left. She didn’t want to see him.

No, he deserved an explanation. She owed him that, at least.

Gideon’s words echoed back to him. She didn’t love them. Leave it alone.

With a deep sigh, he flicked on his turn signal and drove onto Nix Lane. Gideon need never know about this.

His eyes drifted back and forth between the houses until he saw number 845. His nose tugged up at the corners and his mouth parted in disbelief. The yard was dying and the flower boxes and beds were displaying weeds. The concrete walkway to the house was cracked, pushed up in some places, and stained with something that looked mysteriously like blood. Paint peeled from the walls and the door. Tiles were missing from the very faded roof.

Was this serious? Did he get the wrong address? There was no way Belle would live here. Maybe if she was a crack addict, but his Belle? His sweet Belle that made sure not a speck of dust would ever grace her precious books? No way.

He parallel parked, not caring that he was in front of the mailbox, and got out.

As he nervously made his way to the front door, he saw one of the curtains swish closed. Somebody had been watching him.

He noticed his hands were shaking as he raised one fist, lightly knocking with his knuckles. There was shuffling inside. He hoped it was Belle, even if this house was awful. He clasped his unstable hands together in front of him. Then he realized that was probably more intimidating than he wanted to be. He shoved them in his pockets, but then he felt too casual. Crossing his arms was also too defensive of a stance, but folding his hands behind his back was too submissive.

Disgruntled, he took a heavy breath through his nose. The door still hadn’t opened. Swallowing hard, he lifted his hand to knock again when a loud crash came from inside, followed by a short scream.

He instantly stiffened- Belle?

A couple seconds of quiet worried him.j Had she been hurt? Was she unconscious? Did she need a doctor? Pulling out his cell phone in case of an immediate need for an ambulance, he hesitantly opened the front door. Inside was just as drab as outside, only ten times as dark. A bookcase had toppled over and its contents was strewn across the living room.

Despite the urge to turn and leave, he crept deeper into the house, his shoes virtually noiseless on the decrepit carpet. Rounding a corner, he found himself in the house’s kitchen. It was also falling apart.

“Please….”

The voice was so small Gold thought that maybe he was imagining things. He turned to the source of the word and felt like the breath was knocked out of him. A hand gently brushed the wall, instinctively steadying himself. Tears began to blur his vision and he reprimanded himself for being to affected by this.

Belle was crouched behind the stove, eyes wide and scared. She hadn’t changed in 28 years. The same gorgeous blue eyes, the same fair skin, the same deep brown hair. In fact, the only thing he could see was different from the last time he saw her was her clothing choice.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t want to royally screw this up like he must have when she left, so he stayed quiet.

An eternity passed, the only sound whirring from the mysteriously unseen water heater. After Gold figured he had calculated an appropriate approach he opened his mouth again, but she cut him off.

“Please don’t make me go!” Halfway through the outburst she jumped up and sprinted to a room by the dining table.

Gold blinked, “Go where?”

The only answer was a locking deadbolt. He went to the closed door; now that there was barrier to keep the space he felt he could speak freely.

“Belle, I just need to know why,” he started to cry again, “know why you left.”

“How do you know my name?” Belle’s voice was muffled by the door, “Who are you? Go away!”

His heart twinged, but he didn’t move. She must have gotten amnesia. That was it; she didn’t remember him and she didn’t come home that day because she lost her memory. Without his consent, a glimmer of hope nuzzled its way into his mind.

“Belle, it’s me,” he said softly, “you e- your husband.” He had started to say ex-husband, but they had never actually gotten divorced.

“I’m not married,” she sounded confused, “go away!”

“Belle, please listen to me.”

“No! N-now I’m perfectly content with my life here. Fiona w-was nice enough to give me this house and bring me food and clothes and she said not to talk to strangers; not that I would want to anyway. S-so I’m asking you to please go away!”

“Fiona?” Gold said. No response, so he tried again, “Did you say Fiona?”

A tiny “yes” made its way through the door.

Gold’s face hardened, his lip curling into a snarl. Whatever that witch had done to Belle, he was going to make her pay.

[arazialotis]

The Thunder Rolls - Finale

Pairing: Dean × Reader

Word Count: About 3000

Summary: Dean and Sam are on a case in your hometown but the trail is running cold. Dean is hoping to make a move before they leave town and start another case. Based of the Garth Brooks song with the same title.

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: Domestic Violence, Swearing

Please, if you are or ever find yourself in a situation of domestic violence, *do not hesitate* to reach out for help, support, or just to talk to someone about what is going on. The United States National Hotline (24/7 and Confidential) is 1-800-799-7233. This blog (http://togetherweare-strong.tumblr.com/helpline) also has hotlines for multiple other countries.

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors.

-----

The sun warmed your back as you slept gently in Dean’s bed, you could hear birds chirping and still a few soft drops of rain. Sam went out for breakfast and borrowed a car to swing by your house to stake out, trying to get a better idea if Travis was still around. Dean promised he would stay by your side. He fell lightly asleep in the lounge chair off in the corner of the room, trying to catch up on his own sleep deprivation.

You slightly awoke when Sam came through the door. Once you were fully conscious, you decided to act like you were still sleeping, hoping to hear some information he might not disclose if you were awake. Dean you fully trusted but Sam you still had yet to figure out. He seemed strictly business.

“Hey,” Sam whispered to Dean while shaking him awake.

“What? What?” Dean waved him away. “I’m up.” He said running his hands through his hair.

Dean watched you sleeping, wondering how you had managed to remain this peaceful. Probably because you were so exhausted you couldn’t dream, he thought. Sam sat down across from Dean after placing the to-go cups of coffee on the table in between them. Dean took one and started sipping it down.

“So, you find out anything?” Dean questioned.

“He wasn’t at the house, but there was plenty of sulfur pinning him there.” Sam started and he looked at you to make sure you were still sleeping. “He cleaned up too, in a rush, but it looks like he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.”

“What about the factory?” Dean asked.

“Spoke with a supervisor. He called in sick today.” Sam explained.

“Hmm... “ Dean thought. “Maybe back with whoever this other chick was?”

“Or hunting her.” Sam nodded in your direction.

“The three of them didn’t seem so obsessive.” Dean argued going back to earlier in the case.

“Maybe it was triggered when it possessed Travis, by their past. Based on her story, I don’t think he is done seeking her out.” Sam reasoned.

“Then we should get her as far away as possible.” Dean said going for the Impala’s keys.

“Or we could use it to our advantage.” Sam suggested.

“I already said we are not using her as bait, I’m not going to repeat myself again.” Dean growled in your defense.

You couldn’t take lying still anymore and mustered whatever courage you had.

“I want to help.” You said standing up, trying not to wince in pain to convince them you were able.

Both of them jumped to surprise.

“What we are dealing with is way over your head sweetheart.” Dean discredited your offer.

You lightly scoffed surprised as he had always been so soft with you and now was being so headstrong. “I think I got a pretty good idea of what we are dealing with last night, thanks.” You argued back.

At this point, Dean didn’t care if he upset you. He’d rather have you angry with him than being in harm's way again.

“Y/N.” Sam spoke out softly. “Travis is possessed by a demon. If you join us you need to be prepared for the risks.”

“I understand.” You calmly told Sam.

“I don’t think you do.” Dean countered. “This is a creature that has spent centuries undergoing torment and torture in hell that it’s soul has become so twisted it can only spread evil and hurt.” He continued to explain trying to scare you.

“I don’t care about the risks, or what it costs, I just want to finish it.” You pleaded wanting, no needing, to put an end to your own hell you’ve been living in.

Dean muttered something under his breath and stormed out the door. Sam followed him out the door calling his name. You sat back down on the bed catching your breath assuming there was still some type of energy from last night surging through you. Perhaps you finally had just cracked and would not put up with anyone’s shit anymore. You could hear muffled arguing from outside and then the start of the engine. The car pulled away as Sam entered the room again.

“Uh, Dean’s just running to get some more supplies.” Sam threw out an excuse to which you simply raised your eyebrows to show acknowledgement. “Why don’t we go back to your house and pack a few of your things.”

Your heart started beating faster but you nodded your head in agreement wanting to get out of pajamas. You were fairly silent on the drive over in the car Sam had borrowed. The closer you got to the house, the harder it was to avoid the memories.

“Has he always been a demon?” You barely asked thinking back to when he changed early in your marriage.

Sam sighed, knowing it would be easier for you and make more sense if he had been. “No, we were hunting this group for a while. This one fled from his original host and then possessed Travis.”

“Can anyone be possessed?” You asked scared for your own safety.

“Yes…” Sam started. “But there are ways to take caution.”

“Why do you think it chose him?” You asked.

“Honestly, it could be a number of things. Closest body at the time, attracted by his behavior, just for the hell of it…” Sam explained.

Definitely behavior you thought.

He drove past your house. From the outside, it look as if Travis had nailed up a blanket over the broken window. And his pickup truck was no longer in the driveway. Sam turned down a side street and parked along the grass. Sam got out of the door and you forced yourself to join him.

Sam continued to scan the area to see if you were being watched. Your hands shook as you tried the door handle. You opened the door and could hardly manage to step through the threshold. Sam rubbed his hand on your shoulder encouraging you.

“It’s going to be okay, I’ll be here the whole time.” He tried to comfort you.

You took a deep breath and felt more relieved remembering Sam had said he had been here earlier this morning. There was evidence that the fight had happened. In the hallway, picture frames were askew and one had fallen to the ground and shattered. You walked slowly, but it was as fast as you could go towards the bedroom feeling repelled. Once you entered you saw blood on the walls and smelled a horrible smell, recalling Sam had mentioned sulfur.

After analyzing the scene and feeling more secure knowing Travis was no longer here you went to work. In your mind you were determined never to step in this house again. You grabbed a large duffel bag from your closet and started packing the essentials, enough clothes to last a week. You went to your nightstand to grab your phone and charger.

In the bathroom, it was clear Travis had cleaned himself up. There was blood on the floor and in the sink. A small part of you was glad he still bled, it meant he could hurt. After packing your hygiene items, you went to the second bedroom which was used more as a storage room. You went through some packing boxes until you found your old jewelry box. You kept quite a chunk of emergency money there. You also grabbed a gold heart locket that your grandfather had given you when you turned four. He had been the only good thing about this town but passed even before you were married.

You met back up with Sam in the kitchen with the duffel bag swung over your shoulder.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

You took off your wedding ring and left it on the counter. “More than ever.” You responded.

The two of you met back up with Dean at the hotel who had thoughtfully brought back some burgers and fries. He and Sam had worked on turning a few gallons of water into holy water. You watched them with curiosity trying to memorize the words they had chanted. Sam showed you how to pack shotgun shells with salt, explaining while no permanent damage would occur, it would help slow them down.

While you were focused on packing Dean wandered over to you, analyzing your method. You glanced his way but tried to ignore him.

“This is for you.” He plainly stated offering you a black band with a charm that looked like a star surrounded by fire.

You looked puzzled at him but didn’t take it from him.

“May I?” His hand reached for your wrist and you brought it closer to him as he tied the band around it. “As long as you are wearing it, no demon will be able to possess you.”

You inspected it further. “Thanks.”  You said skeptically almost wondering if it was just a wives’ tale to make you feel better.

“Y/N? Where do you think Travis would go looking for you?” Sam inquired.

You thought about it. He knew you pretty well. He would know that you would be too ashamed to seek shelter from your family or the church. You knew a couple of girls from the diner, but you were never that close with them. The bar had an unoccupied apartment upstairs, but would he know about that?

“Probably the bar.” You guessed trying to sound confident.

“Well, then, we should probably head over now to set up traps and get an idea of crowd control if he shows up in the height of service.” Dean babbled.

“It’s Sunday, the bar will be closed.” You said.

Dean shot you a look of utter disbelief.

“Town law, no serving alcohol on Sunday.” You tried to explain.

Dean rolled his eyes and then began packing his duffel. “Let’s get over there, the sooner we gank the son of a bitch, the sooner we can leave this backwards town.”

You sighed, knowing Sam and Dean would be on their way out as soon as it was over, but you had no idea what it would mean for you or what your future held.

---

At the bar, there were no signs if Travis had already been there. Sam threw a duffle of supplies against the bar counter. Dean took a can of red spray paint and handed you a canister of salt.

“Salt the windows, Sam and I are going to paint devil traps at the entrances. That way he can only enter into a trap.” Dean explained.

You didn’t question him and went straight to work. You salted all the windows including the ones in the bathroom and upstairs. When you rejoined they were already talking about the plan.

“This should be a simple knockout, he enters, immediately caught in the trap and you stab the asshat before he even sees it coming.” Dean explained to Sam. “Don’t leave room for any chatting.” Dean wanted this done and over with.

“And if things don’t go to plan?” You asked.

“I’ve got enough salt shells to supply margaritas for parents at a quinceanera.” Dean sarcastically remarked holding up his double barrel shotgun.

“Y/N, if something goes wrong, run to the bathroom, lock yourself inside and put a salt line over the door.” Sam directed. “We’ll, take care of it out here.”

You nodded in agreement. “Until then?”

“We wait.” Dean stated.

“In that case…” you went behind the bar and got three PBRs tossing one to each of them.

It felt like a few hours had passed, you were all on alert but unsure when he would be coming by and if you would even notice his arrival. Dean and Sam stayed by the front entrance. You were contemplating suggesting a new plan or even trying to call him when you heard the muffled engine of his truck. Sam and Dean perked up a bit and looked at you.

‘That’s him’ you mouthed.

They both positioned themselves on either side of the door ready to jump. The front door flew open but no one was at the entrance. Sam held his position. Travis cautiously entered the view of the door and smiled.

“Child’s play,” He smirked and with the flick of his wrist the wood floor cracked beneath the trap rendering it ineffective.

Travis slowly started making his entrance, once he was in the door frame Sam yelled at you to run and jumped towards Travis. Travis ducked missing the swing of Sam’s fist with the knife grasped in it and side punched him in the ribs. Travis used his power to fling the knife out of Sam’s hand and cause it to slide away from him. Sam was shocked as Travis took another blow. Dean immediately started firing salt bullets trying to slow him down and get him off Sam.

Travis left Sam on the ground and reached for Dean’s gun, he grabbed it and with force ripped it from his hands. He swung the gun and the butt of it connected with Dean’s head. As the boys tried to recover, Travis directed his attention towards you.

“So what, now you are whoring yourself out to hunters?” Travis asked.

You thought about running but were determined to stay and help. You didn’t engage in conversation with him, knowing it was just to get a rise out of you. You grabbed two jars of holy water from the duffel and threw one at him. It shattered on his chest and he grunted as it sizzled on his skin. Sam regained his strength and thought if he could push them to the back entrance, he could get him in that trap. Sam jolted from the ground and used his might to push Travis forward. Travis managed to turn around and kick Sam in the side halting the both of them as Sam fell again to the ground trying to catch his breath.

You threw the second jar at him trying to get his attention off of Sam and he hissed as it shattered on his back. Dean reached for the shotgun again and reloaded.

“I’m growing impatient.” Travis growled and reached out both his arms.

Sam and Dean flew through the air and hit the wall hard each being pinned there. Travis walked directly towards you with a crooked smile on his face. You slowly backed up never taking your eyes off him. You put one arm behind you feeling for the bar and gasped when you hit it. Travis rushed to you pinning you against the counter with his body. Trying to get away any way you could, you wound up your arm to smack him across the face. He caught it midair and twisted it sounding a loud crack. You screamed in pain and sank to the ground. He slowly followed you down. Dean swore as he struggled to release himself but to no avail. He looked at Sam for an idea, but Sam was looking in your direction with panic. Dean prayed silently to Cas hoping for a miracle.

“You know, I don’t know if a demon has ever been created on earth, but with what I have in mind for you we might come close.” He cooed as he caressed your hair.

You saw the demon knife under the nearest barstool and breathed deep gathering your strength. “Fuck you.” You used your good arm to quickly reach for the knife and thrusted it into his chest with everything you could.

Travis gasped in shock and as you stood up you saw him or the creature inside him flash orange several times before the life left his eyes and the body collapsed to the floor. Dean and Sam fell to the floor. You sighed in relief and felt overwhelmingly free.

-----

Sam rolled back into the bar parking lot with the Impala after disposing the body. Dean was slightly adjusting his makeshift sling that was already wrapped around you. He had wanted to take you to an emergency room but you insisted you would be fine for now. Sam came over to the two of you and handed you your duffel bag. You took it with your good arm and set it on the ground.

“So, what’s next for you Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea. Probably anything to get me out of this place.” You responded.

Dean looked at Sam for permission who nodded.  “You could ride with us for a while. Until you find a place to settle down.” Dean suggested.

You thought about it. “I think I’d like that.”

Dean lit up at your response. “Great, uh, do you need to get anything from your house?”

“Got everything I need right here.” You grabbed the duffel.

“Here let me take that for you.” Dean offered and opened up the backseat door for you.

You heard a low rumble from the east and you all looked to see a wave of gray clouds slowly heading towards the town.

“Looks like another storm is rolling in.” Sam commented.

“Yeah, but we aren’t going to be here for it.” You sighed in relief.

You hopped in and Dean took the driver’s seat with Sam at his side as always. Sam complimented you on your courage and fighting and you politely thanked him explaining you couldn’t have done it without them to which Dean argued you already had. You remained fairly silent, popping into the conversation here and there but you were focused on counting each mile as you progressed farther from town. Eventually even Dean and Sam slowed the conversation and Dean put in his CCR cassette tape. Your eyes slowly closed as you began to drift to sleep. You smiled to yourself as the track ‘Who Will Stop the Rain” came on and adjusted your duffel to a pillow. You let your dreams take you away from the past and onto a new adventure. Dean looked in the rearview mirror and caught your contagious smile.

Sam noticed Dean kept glancing back at you. He turned around to see if you were asleep before speaking. “She did pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah, she did.” Dean said continuing to drive towards what light was left in the sky.

[rexylafemme]

this precious time when time is new

things come full circle all the time. ruben touched down in nyc on saturday. micah and i trekked to laguardia to get him, laughing on the way about how ridiculous we all were in the bay, how we bet our lil ruben looks more grown now, seasoned, hehe. the last time micah, ruben, and i were together was for the full pisces supermoon in late summer, september 2015--the night before micah would move back to nyc, our last full night at our house all together. a month before ruben would leave, two months before i would leave. this time, ruben arrived in time for the virgo full moon, pisces’ opposite, in late winter 2017, the coldest, snowiest week we’ve had.

that last night together in september, we drove to alameda beach armed with paper, some stones, herbs & flowers, gifts & letters from ex-whatevers & poem drafts to throw to the ocean, ruben’s signature drink: fireball whiskey (ew), a blunt, some candles, a mini speaker. all the trappings for a spell for letting go, for saying goodbye. bitch better have my money on in the car ride there, our heads hanging out the window, boisterous--our anthem for that year (/always), being broke, undervalued, and continuously doing too much work for too little or free, retail and retail and food service and gigs and workshops and unofficial art modeling and freelance writing and recording and plans that kept falling through. now we were in the home stretch. we laid down our blanket, we set out our herbs, our stones, our candles. we sat in a triangle, wrote silently for awhile: what we would surrender to the bay, what we would leave there, what we couldn’t keep or hold anymore. also, what new journeys we needed new strength for.

we went around and said some words about what we’d written, said some sentimental stuff about each other. poured out some fireball, passed it around til it was gone--so sickly sugary & spicy like melted/liquefied big red gum, coating yr mouth and throat. we stuffed our losses in the bottle and walked to the shoreline. we fumbled trying to figure out a way for all three of us to hold the bottle while we threw it, haha. the moon hung to the left of our viewscape, leaving a moving trail of yellow on the water as we watched the bottle bobble away. i walked into the water alone up to my waist--feeling grateful, trying to absolve myself of this place and all its failures, looking up at the moon and asking it my questions about what next and help and please don’t let us lose this. hearing micah and ruben laugh from the sand, smiling to myself with love for them, sighing and crying a little. no turning back now, can’t hold onto everything, nothing is forever, and then it was over, the night. tomorrow everything would be different. just one more chip off an already broken heart. 

“nothing’s changed!” micah exclaimed laughing as we stood propped against the subway doors on the Q train to brooklyn. ruben and i fake-fighting, the bates motel norma and norman faux-codependence theatrical game we’d play-- we all go a little mad sometimes, there’s a cord between our hearts, etc. the three of us hugging and giggling. after almost two hours of traveling from queens to flatbush, we wound up at micah and sharmin’s for game night. i was in the middle of a two-week marathon of insomnia and ptsd nights, so i was feeling raw/cranky/crazy/depleted/negative and was waiting for my affections to catch up with the present moment. ruben! friends! games! you don’t wanna go home and write by yourself, rex, you fool. it’s saturday night! but knowing when i’m like this, at night i get all weird & doubtful & dark, but reminding myself to just be myself, relax, remember what’s good, no pressure, if you need to leave, you can. and you might even enjoy yourself. and of course i didn’t wind up going home til 2am, spent and full, as suddenly the future hit--clocks springing ahead to 3am for daylight savings.

but before that, sharmin’s friends arrived trickle by trickle until there were about ten of us.  uno, jenga, slapjack, drinks, snacks, bullshit, taboo (team names: beyonce v. solange, and ruben and i were on the solange team, the weirder, low key underdog, and we won), stories, music, nintendo, laughter, newness, familiarity. it felt so nourishing to be in a room full of working class folks, folks from queens and bk, and ruben & micah: the two down suburban qts, home people--that easiness and fluency that comes with not having to explain yourself, everyone just getting it, breathing room & shared experiences.  micah and i trying to explain all the wild connections between the people in the bay and the people out here. how i met sharmin, tanya (& tres tho only briefly), and jesse through black brunch organizing in 2014 when i was visiting home from the bay. learning sharmin and jesse both were from my qnz hood and knew my childhood bff ro through other organizing avenues. jova and reuben knew sharmin, too, and tanya and tres, jova having told me tanya and i needed to know each other way before this meeting bc of our poor white femme nyc/nj lives. later, when i moved home and jova was so right about tanya and me, and someow tres & tanya had known micah round the way (?!?!?!). and before that, when micah first moved back to nyc, he called me to talk about some amazing femme he met at the club--something that never happens for us--being so enchanted or even pursued at the club (partially bc we never even bothered to go), and as he described her, i was like, “wait, is her name sharmin???” hehehe, clearly micah can’t get enough of catty witches from queens. explaining the connections between all the ex-friends-&-lovers, too--nyc, the bay-- disenchantments & the chaos and the relief that it was all over. happy to be laughing about it now. ending stories. we have no past, we won’t reach back; keep with me forward all through the night.

origin stories. apparently, the first night ruben moved into our 668 apartment, micah and i were hosting a big party. i laughed and apologized retroactively, but it so sums up where we were at at the time. ruben said it helped him integrate tho, he felt welcomed and i remember being so thrilled to introduce him to everyone. realizing how much the three of us got each other through those two years--all the drama, all the marches, the confusion, blowouts, heartbreaks, housing scares, bad jobs, the nights, the mornings--waking up with glitter on our faces, splayed eyeliner, party carnage, or just waking up to work & life fatigue, big breakfasts, sitting in the sun on our stoop year-round. so much we shared and still a lot of room for things we couldn’t say and didn’t have to. but, how home the three of of us felt to each other then, and now, and how we extended that sense of home to others--sometimes guests sleeping over in every room of the house except the kitchen, our place a safe zone on march routes, multiple sets of people staying with us through rocky times, the big meals we’d host when i was working at  farmers’ markets & the spice shop simultaneously, pooper cat game nights, the trigger warning performance series + parties we threw out of the house. talya called our place the gay frat house (tho i have to say in defense that it was quite clean). leo sun/leo rising/leo moon trio. so familiar, so sweet, so effortless, so open. our little clubhouse, our little family. remembering is good if you don’t let it be the fear in you.

i think we felt lacking then, i think we felt we couldn’t get our footing or find somewhere where we belonged-- but looking back, we created what we didn’t have and we invited other people into it. all the adult misfits. we got burned by being open indiscriminately and it made us shrinking violets by the end, but we’re blooming again now. riding that bloom wave.

at one point the other night, i overheard sharmin say to a friend, “aren’t they so cute? they’re such teen boys over there.” as we were sitting in a corner doing our thing. and that was always true of our vibe-- our bond full of youthful, long-lost brother feels. but, soft, feminine boys, & sometimes we’re not boys at all. 668 40th st, living one up from hell, we’d joke, which maybe is what gifted us that mythical queer fountain-of-youth gene where we look 17 forever. young leos. after long days of work + grad school madness (me) or undergrad madness (ruben), in between assignments, projects, art, meetings, shifts, we were always watching movies from our childhoods, making forts, running around in our underwear, making art on the floor in the living room, doing drag, playing board games, talking shit, pushing each other around and wrestling and cuddling and teasing each other, holding hands and being protective of each other when we had to. our intimacy--so easy & necessary & good & a balm from the bad intimacies we got lost in at times. we grew together: we all taught each other things and challenged each other, especially through our differences. bb ruben had never met a trans person before and micah and i were like “well, here we are!” and both of us so different in our trans-ness. we were all so inviting & open to excavating each other so we could be better at honoring who we all were.

and in new york now, finally living here on my own terms, regardless of the obstacles: housing scares and failures, the last of the bad intimacies (i hope), and family, i am thinking of who i was before. the sense of un-belonging that’s had me leaving new york over and over, the pain of lineage that had me craving escape, craving to be someone else, craving to leave them all behind. while simultaneously always trying to make sense of the people i come from so i could make sense of myself: the grief i never let go of, the contradictions, the violence and the nourishment of us. how all of this and my own self within it--freakish, theatrical, full of shadows, so of them & yet so so other--had me always searching. the people, the others: i was always looking for and the ones i always found. there were the inexplicably lovable yet destructive ones who reified all of the patterns in me i was always trying to leave behind, and then i finally did. bye. and then all the people who were so new; whose influence, paired with my own, allowed us to make something from nothing-- magic, create beauty from old tragedies, whether we spoke of them or not. cosmic people, like ruben and micah, the pretty, sweet boys. boys who weren’t afraid to cry or to touch or to admit to love and fear and failure and wanting. and the three of us, whoever we are and will be, knowing our love was/is strong enough to withhold our leaving, being apart, and all of the transformations that would flush out of walking away, of change. that there would always be a road back. paths that cross will cross again!

and ruben is still here until saturday, so my sentimentality is running away with me. blame it on my wild heart. hehe.

[lifeofnes]

Wk 3

I finally got into a kitchen this week! Two different ones! On Monday I got to work in my niece’s restaurant, Conrado’s. I’ve talked about it before, but it’s this quiet, cute, 25 seater diner right above their family’s nail salon, in the middle of the busy market. None of the hustle and bustle seeps into the place. There’s wood floors, light-weight metal patio furniture for tables & seating, potted succulents, dangling light fixtures, framed portraits of our family members, and gaudy but cute melted glass decorations hung up. It has a bunch of chalkboard quotes that you’d probably see on a 17-year-olds pinterest homepage. Matter fact, most of this is rather pinterest-y. But that’s not a knock, it’s cute, and most importantly: it’s clean and air conditioned. Both rarities here, believe me, and to have both? 5 stars. Kristel has an acoustic Filipino folk-song playlist on repeat. Think, Bahay Kubo and the like, played on a soothing Spanish guitar. She serves all day breakfast and these gigantic pandesal sandwiches the size of a child’s head. And while it’s not the culinary work that I thought I’d get into, work is work. I’m gonna make this french toast. Yaherd? Things move slow mostly in the morning, a few orders of pancakes and pandesal french toast. A few ‘silogs are slung, and a maniac orders alfredo at 10am. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad alfredo, but it is 10am. Anyway 1:30 rolls around and orders come to a dead stop. We don’t get anyone in the door for an hour. I ask Kristel if this is normal for them and she says yeah she usually watches a movie or plays with the little baby that belongs to one of the workers downstairs. We get maybe 2 sandwich orders in the next 3 hours but for the most part, a pinoy movie is in the que. So we watch a flick on YouTube. Some rom-com with Sharon Cuneta falling back in love in her 50’s or whatever. It’s funny I guess. Kristel asks me about my love life and I tell her I don’t have one right now lol. She presses me for details and as I’m about to give in and tell her, she cuts me off and says “Your dad told us everything! Hahaha! He was crying and telling us to take care of you! Hahaha!” I’m laughing but taken aback to one thing in particular. “He was crying?...like crying, crying?” I ask. She says yeah, “One day he called us, I guess it was after you made up your mind to come over here and was saying that you’re so hurt and that you don’t know what you’re doing with your life.” Naturally defensive, I fire back that i’m good, that I haven’t felt like that in a while, that we’re friends now/she isn’t to blame as to why I’m here, and that I do kinda know what I’m doing with my life sorta, but I’m really kinda shocked still that my dad...cared. Through tears, called my relatives to take care of me in an emotional capacity that he believed he could not. I’m sure he would’ve done fine if he tried. I felt hope and disappointment kinda all in one. I wanna do better. I tell her some half-drawn sparknotes version of my romantic life and she does hers. It’s a nice bonding moment. By this time it's 3:30-4 and no one is eating in the restaurant. So Kristel send me and her only other employee, CJ, out to the palengke to grab groceries for the store. Out the door with list in hand and 500 pesos in her pocket. Time to make magic happen. CJ was so quick on her feet it was hard to keep up. Weaving through stands of vegetables, dodging hanging clothing items, correctly predicting every direction people were walking while looking at their cells, she was masterful. Everything she did was efficient, but charming still. She was like a studio Ghibli character come to life. Tastes a grape, squeezes a mangosteen, makes a face at a baby, takes a sharp left, selects the vegetables, haggles the grocer, pets the cat that's always sleeping at the light bulb stand, it was fun to witness. We get back to Conrado’s in no more than 30 minutes and unpack. Just in time too, after a few games of cards we get a last minute rush and are on our feet until close at 7pm. Everyone loves Kristel’s sandwiches, I think it’s the size and quality of the pandesal. It’s sweet but not overly so, and chewy but not heavy. Also did I say that it was the size of a child’s head? For like 200 pesos (4 dollars) what a bargain. That was the template and timeline of pretty much every day I spent there, (which was only 3 this week but I’m expecting to be there a lot more this month haha) Ate Oya (Oyo’s older sister, convenient, I know) finally took me to her new restaurant, Casa Carmen Cafe. They soft opened in June and are planning a grand opening in November. It’s a gutted out traditional bahay kubo house with original elevated skeleton, the exposed wood beams, and refurbished exterior; complete with the sliding capiz windows. It’s a little more upscale and twice as big as Conrado’s, but simple and elegant nonetheless. She Introduced me to the staff and the other co-owners. They’re five cooks in the back, five servers, and six owners. All really friendly people and excited to have a free set of hands. Casa also does food to order, but they do Filipino food instead of breakfast and pasta. They make some of the best regional dishes I have ever had in my life. Dishes like Kansi, which is a Iloilo regional beef and jackfruit soup. It’s made sour with the batwan fruit -- which is native only to western Visayas -- instead of tamarind, sampalok, or vinegar. It’s tart like sinigang but has a deeper savoriness and more dimension due to lemongrass and asuete. Suman sa Gata at Manok which according to one of the cooks, says is a super specific Cavite specialty; a sticky rice cake cooked in coconut milk and then steamed with a sliver of chicken on top. They also put spins on classics without losing the heart of the dish. Things like crispy dinuguan and fried halo-halo. They had me finishing and plating dishes first day. Finishing final grill items, wiping edges, garnishing plates, my hands felt alive, useful in a way that I can only compare to making art. It was surreal to be in a kitchen like that, and to be cooking and serving food that I've worked my whole life around. It really brought a prestige to Pinoy cuisine that I've only ever seen in Instagram photos. To see very humble stews and barbecued meats elevated to this level, at this capacity really brought me hope that I could do something like this someday myself. What was surprising was while all this gorgeous food was around them, the most excited the kitchen got was when Kim; the heaviest of the line cooks bought really crappy pizza with the promise of drinking beer later on that night. Which was so hilarious, and comforting to me. They tell me next week, i’m prepping pata and learning their dinuguan recipe. Word. On Friday my birthday happened, I shared it with my cousin Lou! He however was turning 50 lol. And before you think this is gonna be all island boy vibes and noodles, think again. It starts with a cat. 5 hurricane and ends with a very unpleasant argument with my mom. There are noodles still. So that’s good. As the day was happening I was angs- y from the two different super storms planning to DDT my whole life and not being able to gather all the family I wanted to see because of them. I ended up a touch frumpy most of they day. For some context, with Oyo now gone I didn’t really have a mode of transportation the whole past week. Mom didn’t believe I could drive by myself here. She didn’t know I drove his sisters car last week and was thriving in this type of balls out driving culture. Yeesh, and God forbid I take a tricycle by myself and get kidnapped?...I don’t know, I’m a clear half foot taller than most of the people here, in the best-ish shape of my life, and I don’t want to brag, but can throw a decent punch. I don’t know. So this whole past week I was at the mercy of my mom taking me places. Dropping me off to either of my nieces that owned restaurants, which was clearly awesome. But when I wasn’t working and being checked on constantly I was stuck by her side running errands or fixing the up the apartment in San Carlos. I felt like a preteen again. On top of that, there were things I wasn't giddy to do like: being drug to 6am mass, (rough) she then told me to order then cancel catering, (twice??¿?) and the city had erratic brownouts for 15 hours. All of which making me feel a bit—powerless. So after mass (which I mostly slept though) I was stuck at the house with nothing to do on my birthday, and no one was coming over hahaha. It’s a peculiar kind of “kick-in-the-groin” paradox when you’re not trying to make a day all about you because it makes you feel cringey and childish, but in doing so you end up trying to please yourself anyway by not feeling those things. After some alone time filming ants and laughing at myself I decided to interact with people. Tatay and I feed chickens and I tried having a comprehensive conversation with him to no avail, oh well. He end up telling me he had to get me goats. Like a switch flipped in his mind and he wouldn’t rest until is original programming was complete type of vibe. I didn’t want to fight him on it, and so about an hour later he comes back with two goats, a mom and a kid. He made me name them, THEN told me we were gonna kill them later. Cool. That’s cool. Couldn’t really sway him, being stubborn is his worst and best trait. My mom ended up taking them down the street to some relatives to take care of them and told tatay that they were too small to kill and eat anyway. Good going mom. I went inside and started looking at old photos with inay. She had stories for almost every person and photo we looked at. That was beautiful. All of my mom siblings are really brave, but especially my mom. Hearing first hand accounts of her young adult years was assuring. A few hours later I got wind that everyone at home was a-ok. What a relief. I took a step back from the lack of command I had going into the day and laughed at the parallel it had with my whole past year. I can toil and strive and work with what I got, the best that I can, but at the end of the day, things are gonna keep on turning beyond my control. I get gratification of autonomy with what I do yet the assurance of things moving forward without me. What a rad gift. Power got back on about 6pm -ish and we decided to head out to kuya Lou’s house to celebrate together because they also had power back on. We ended up having pancit and spaghetti. Noodles for long life or whatever. We ended up hobo drinking beer and a handle of jack. I had some pretty good conversations about dreams and goals with some of my cousins and got to know each other better. My one nephew JR is an aspiring historian and we talked about Philippine history for a pretty long time. That was really exciting for me, he knew so much and I don’t usually have anyone to gab about that kinda stuff or even ask questions from. At around 9 when it was dark two of my pamangkin shut off the all the lights to fake a brownout. They ended up walking out with 2 lit birthday cupcakes. It was really sweet of them, too bad I didn’t take any pictures. Live in the moment and what not right? I ended up having to go home early that night because my mom’s foot was acting up and after a few sharp looks shot my way I could tell she wasn’t feeling comfortable. I told her to go home by herself and that I’d get a ride back to the bukid somehow. She sternly said no and  I resigned my pride to argue in front of family,  I could tell she was more uncomfortable seeing me drink that much with my cousins than the pain in her foot. On the drive back home I argued about the lack of freedom I was feeling with her and the juxtaposition of her own life around my age. I think I nailed my talking points. She ended up seeing my side of things and we apologized to each other. I think the pressure is getting to her from both sides, of being a child again living with her folk and remembering to be a mom. I doubt it’ll be the last time I talk about this dynamic. I do hope it gets better soon.

[ronaldmrashid]

Silent Threats In The Night: A Forgotten Memory Until Charlottesville Happened

In the summer of 1996, I got in my rusty Toyota Corolla hatchback and took off on a five and a half hour drive south from the suburbs of Washington DC to a sleepy town called Abingdon, Virginia. I wasn’t sure if I’d make it because I had never driven my car more than 2.5 hours before.

After my transmission blew out six months after I bought it for $2,000, the mechanic got the gear ratio wrong so my car was always revving 2,000 RPM higher than it should. Constantly wondering whether the engine would explode was concerning.

I was back from a month-long internship at a Canon electronics distributor in Taipei and missed my girlfriend dearly. Sophomore year at The College of William & Mary in Williamsburg was only a month a way, but I couldn’t wait to see her.

Abingdon is a beautiful town nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountain range. When I arrived, the first thing I did was give my girlfriend a big hug and go to a local “greasy spoon” restaurant right off the main strip. She knew that I loved grilled cheese sandwiches with freshly sliced tomatoes wedged between the goodness. It was the perfect way to catch up after almost two months of being away.

Source: VisitAbingdonVirginia.com

Although there wasn’t a minority in sight, I never felt out of place in quiet Abingdon. Southerners tend to have a great way of making you feel welcome. After lunch, she brought me up a windy road to see her dad and his girlfriend. They lived on a little hill with not a neighbor in sight for miles. I was nervous to meet dad as any boyfriend should be.

I gave Mr. Brosnan a firm handshake and greeted him with the warmest “nice to meet you” I could muster. Mr. Brosnan was a psychiatrist at the local hospital. He stood about six feet tall with a full beard filled with black and white bristles. He was white and drove a green Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo. He politely scoffed at my dinky car that pulled up into his driveway.

My girlfriend, Erika, was not white. She stood about 5′ 8″ tall and had straight black hair. She was incredibly fit because she was a vegetarian and a runner. Erika was mixed. Her Chinese mother had died from cancer when she was only three.

Into The Evening

If you ever go camping in a desolate place, you’ll marvel at the brightness of the stars. Each evening we’d sit out on the porch right off the kitchen and look up. Because there wasn’t a street light for miles, the solar system jumped out at us like high definition. We spotted no fewer than three shooting stars each night, which makes me wonder what else do we miss in our daily lives?

On the third day of a week long visit we got a flier. On the flier were four white hooded figures with an invitation to join the KKK. There was a telephone number to call, but no address. We read the propaganda and thought nothing of it. But when we told Mr. Brosnan about the flier we could see the worry in his eyes.

He asked, “Did anybody follow you home?” “Were you aware of anybody in town watching you?” “Did you have a bad encounter?”

As far as we could tell, nobody was following or watching us. We had thought the flier was junk mail, sent to every single household in town. Not once did we suspect we were targeted because of my arrival until we spoke to Mr. Brosnan. There was something else Mr. Brosnan wasn’t telling us, but he never revealed anything else.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve been through a lot of uncomfortable racial discrimination encounters that I wasn’t really worried about a silly flier. As a minority, you get used to the jeers, the name calling, the stereotyping, the intimidation and the hate. Because you’re physically outnumbered, there’s nothing you can really do but ignore and move on if you want to live. Instead, I learned self-defense, practiced using a butterfly knife, and focused on my studies in order to gain some future optionality.

The next day, Erika and I went down to get a milkshake after a three-mile jog and everything was as normal as could be. Then night fell and something strange happened.

While on the deck, instead of hearing the cicadas gently hum through the night like an ocean wave, we heard a truck rumble up the hill to the front of the house. Nobody came out of the truck. It just sat there with the engine left on, gurgling as if it was hungry.

Then the high beams flickered on and we decided to go inside. As we were heading inside, we saw Mr. Brosnan walk outside with his rifle. He calmly told us to stay put. Mr. Brosnan stood behind a wooden bear statue on his porch for protection, pointed his rifle at the truck and shouted, “Get the hell off my property!”

The standoff only lasted for a minute, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, the truck lowered its high beams. Inside we could see three white men in the truck drinking beer and throwing up some sort of hand signal before driving back down the hill. They littered a beer can put the window and left another flier.

We’ll never know whether a member of the KKK spotted us in town and followed us back to Mr. Brosnan’s house. But we did learn that the KKK had been trying to recruit Mr. Brosnan for a number of years. The per capita income for the town was $22,486, while about 7.3% of families and 10.1% of the population were below the poverty line. As a psychiatrist, Dr. Brosnan was a respected man in town who likely unknowingly helped treat a KKK member.

At Dr. Brosnan’s urging, he recommended I find a motel to stay in at a nearby town instead. So I found an Econo Lodge in the town of Marion, 30 miles north on H-81. I didn’t want to put his family in jeopardy. Erika initially objected, but she came along to stay for a couple nights before we both had to return to our respective homes.

What Happened To Progress?

I forgot all about this harrowing encounter as a 19-year-old  until what transpired in Charlottesville, Virginia this past weekend. Millions were killed in World War II fighting Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. Yet here people were at Emancipation Square and on the campus of the University of Virginia making Nazi salutes and carrying flags with swastikas while a team of men in camouflage gear and semi-automatic riles marched along side them in support. Then the car bulldozing happened. What the hell is going on?

It’s incredibly sad that after 21 years, there is still so much hate and bigotry. Perhaps it has never gone away, but stayed more hidden until now. As a personal finance writer, I can’t help but think the lack of money and education have everything to do with racism. Nobody grows up hating someone else because of their skin color. Hate is taught by our parents, our peers, and our circumstance. Hopefully this means that those who hate can be taught to learn love as well

FinancialSamurai.com will always be a platform that is accepting of everybody looking to achieve financial freedom. I enjoy not seeing what any of you look like because it allows me to focus on your substance. I strongly believe that if more people achieve financial security, there will be less hate in the world. Once you feel financially secure or at least feel like you’re headed in the right direction, you can start helping others instead of trying to cut others down.

Note: There is a poll embedded within this post, please visit the site to participate in this post's poll.

Thoughts About Hate

* If you’re experiencing hate know that the person hating on you is going through some sort of misery that causes them to act out. Happy people don’t hate on others, they find a way to accept and be kind.

* Forgive. It may not be easy, but once you understand why they are the way they are, it becomes easier. You’ll feel better forgiving and moving on, rather than letting the incident eat away at you.

* Be careful not to lump everyone in the same group. If you do, then you’re practicing a similar brand of prejudice. Discover the individual.

* Don’t assume that just because Asian Americans as a group do OK in terms of income and education, they don’t consistently face racial discrimination in many facet of their lives. Further, there is no typical Asian since there are 48 Asian countries.

* If you’re practicing hate, dig deep to find the root cause of your hatred. Now direct your energy towards addressing the issue instead of blaming some group of people for your misery.

* Let’s teach our children early on about the importance of respecting each other. Our prejudices will spread to our children if we are not careful.

* The best way to prove your detractors wrong is to be successful in your craft. The best way to cure your hate towards others is to also become successful in your craft.

Related:

The One Key Ingredient Necessary For Achieving Financial Independence

Emotional Intelligence: A Key To An Easier Life

Readers, what are your thoughts about what happened in Charlottesville, Virginia? Have you had any hateful encounters based on who you are that you’d like to share? What do you think are some solutions to creating more harmony in the world? Before attending The College of William & Mary, I attended high school in Northern Virginia. Virginia is a wonderful place that has a special place in my heart, despite all the growing pains I experienced. 

from http://www.financialsamurai.com/silent-threats-in-the-night-charlottesville/