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themanywomeninmyhead · 2 years ago

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The Caged Bird: Chapter 2: Bullets and Pearls

Peaky Blinders OC: Nurse Flo matches witts via letters with Thomas Shelby over the years as their lives lead them on separate but similar journies.

Pairing: OC(Florence Bell)/Tommy Shelby

Muse Insert (Will Post a Y/N Version As Well)

OC Aka Flo Belongs To Me

Time Period: 1922 (Season 2)

Warning: 18+, Violence, Suggestive Language, Eventual Smut

Ch. 1 | X | Ch.3 | Interlude

“Is that man beating on you again Lettie?” Flo asked not even bothering to look up from the note that she was writing. By now she knew the familiar and uneven steps of what was once the most beautiful woman in the Red Light District. Or at least that was until she caught the attention of the wrong man, the wrong man with the type of temper that could kill a girl. Flaming red hair that faded to a washed-out copper, porcelain pale skin that was now the color of sour milk all wrapped up in clothing that was meant for a body that was a little more shapely. Time and abuse had stripped the meat from her bones and the joy from her eyes.

“Miss Florence while it's always a pleasure to be in your presence I know you're always unhappy as to the reason why.” The woman said as she leaned into the door frame; half of her face was swollen, her bottom lip split, and bruising under the left eye were all evidence of a night spent with the man with a bad temper. It wasn't like Lettie liked him it was just that it was her job and she did it well and it paid the bills.

“You would be correct Lettie but you giving half-ass apologies on why you look like that isn't why you're here. I can tell all the way from over here you've already seen a doctor.”

“You see this is why you're always the one that we like to go to. You don't mince words, you always have a gentle hand and you don't charge us half a month's rent.”

“Let's be honest none of you have half a month's rent anytime before the end of the month. Not only that but it'd be a disservice if all of you pretty little ducks end up out on the street. After all who's going to look after you if I don't?”

“Flo that's exactly why I'm here. Eddie finally seemed to have gotten tired of me. Of which I have to say I'm relieved but it's the person he plans to replace me with that I'm worried about.” Lettie explained as she shuffled into the room and sat down on the woman's exam table. It wasn't jealousy that tempered her words. Flo had seen what jealous, vengeful women could do to each other if crossed. This was well and true worry like a mother had for her child.

“Who is it?” She said putting down her pen and giving the other woman her complete and undivided attention

“Maybelle, the younger not the older. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that he was using all the same tricks on her that he did on me. Dinners, dancing, gifts, being really nice to her and her mama. Flo that girl has a promising future. Like I had before I caught his eye and I can't stand the idea of letting another little girl be broken under his hands.”

Lettie or Leticia as she had been called back when she was still a young sprightly thing was supposed to go off to school to be a teacher. Until Edmund Monroe of the Uptown Monroe Gang had set his eyes on her. Everybody knew the tale about how he took her to dinners, and dancing, bought her fine clothes and took her about town as if she was the Crown Jewel of the city. He whispered words of love and marriage in her ear all the way up until the point he deflowered her. And after she was no longer a pristine untouched flower he showed his true self. Drinking and whoring and when he'd come for her he would beat her. As if all his worldly troubles were her fault always remembering to throw enough cash to pay the rent at her feet.

Florence sighed opening up the drawer to her left and looking down into its contents. Still neatly wrapped in the packaging that it came in except for the edges on one side that had been pulled up to take a peek inside was the gift from Tommy. She'd only received it a week prior to departing France and had every intention of sending it back. After all, what need does a nurse who saved lives have for a gun that took them? Chuckling dryly to herself she picked up the box and put it in front of her placing her hands on it.

People liked to talk about how the Romani had magic and she could not help but wonder if Thomas Shelby had known this day would come. And that the oath that she swore all those years ago once she finished school would be broken by six little bullets on what seems like another rainy Friday night in the Red Light District.

“I'll take care of it, Leticia. Don't you worry that pretty little head about it.”

Dear Flo,

I had to say that my feelings were hurt when I received the package that I had sent to you back. Even though you said that you would send it as long as it arrived before you left to return to the states. And though for you it was probably a moral dilemma I was very pleased to see it came back empty. I did not think that you had it in you to use all of them in one go. Oh to be a fly on the wall as you went into what was no doubt a beautiful, dark rage. Knowing you you didn't take a life to protect yourself but someone else. In other news, Ada is expecting her first child. To say I am displeased would be an understatement. She has fallen in with a man who has sensational ideas. I fear if I write the word for his kind down in a letter people will come knocking on your door asking all the wrong questions. As you know I will do anything for my family and I am all for becoming an uncle again but this worries me. A bird has come to nest. It can't sing all that well but it has lovely yellow feathers, it reminds me a bit of you just a bit more sneaky or so it thinks so. I wonder sometimes as I listen to it sing if you would think less of me if I fell in with a cheap replacement for the authentic thing. And then I remembered that you probably already think less of me as I do not believe it's in your nature to think highly of a man with my skill set and in my line of work.

Letters will be few and far in between in th future as Shelby Company Limited is in a stage of growth. As you said the last time we saw each other you wanted to know as little about my doings as legally acceptable. And as not to worry your pretty little head about it I will respect your desires to….some extent. I’ve been dreaming again or no I think it's more correct to call them nightmares. In the nighttime hours as I lay in my bed and sometimes in the daytime hours when I least expect them brief, bright flashes of the battlefield play before my eyes. Florence I remember once you said that I would burn the world for its warmth, then why does it feel as if I am being burned? As if the sum of my parts are being used to prop up the rotten and decaying society that I and my brothers fought so hard for.

I am rambling on again. You’ll no doubt turn it away again but now that I have come into a bit of means, so I have enclosed another gift. I’m sure your savings has been used up by now on your new home and various travel expenses. Even if you never wear it would be a good nest egg for you to hold on to. Flowers, fabrics, and perfumes might lose their value but I find that jewels do not.

Truthfully Yours, Thomas Shelby

Dear Tommy,

I fear a part of me is broken. If before I was a mirror with the glass cracked I am now a mirror with pieces missing. As you say I hoped to not have to use your gift. The pearl-handled beauty would have stayed in my desk until the next time I went to the post office and was sent back to you unused. But a monster had his eyes on a princess still too young to be out of her mother's sight. So I took care of that monster and his friends who were only slightly less bad than him. I feel like Lady Macbeth constantly washing my hands as if that could make them clean from the sin that I have committed on another. Tell me Thomas does it ever get any easier, the guilt.

I have enclosed a few gifts of my own for Ada and the baby. Nothing nearly so ostentatiously expensive as what you sent me. But it is handmade and will keep the babe warm on these cold winter nights that are to come. You have no need to speak the specific name of this young man we will just call him a pest and say that we are having a similar epidemic here as well. This is the part of the letter where I say something very nice because while I am very good at dressing you down and showing you the errors of your ways I'm also your friend. Be careful, Tommy Shelby you are not God nor are you immortal. And one day your dealings will get you killed. And though you annoy me something fiercely I hope that it is not today or this year or even the next few years that you are finally snatched off this mortal coil.

You have always had such a shrewd and inquisitive mind. It is a true shame that is not applied to more beneficial and legal things. But I am happy known the less that you and your family have come into some means and don't have to worry about struggling. Yes, I've heard whisperings in the medical community that men who have fought in wars, most recent and past ones oftentimes are plagued with terrible dreams. The human mind is sometimes unable to fathom the things that it has done and will make you relive these tragedies as it works to overcome them. I already know it is unlikely that you would step back from Shelby Company Limited as you've come to call it. But a break on the seaside might be to the liking of both your mind and body. As I write this I dare say that it also sounds like something that I would be interested in once things have cooled down here.

I have always hated when you were right, maybe it was because you were right so often or that pretentious little smirk that you would get when you realized it. I'm a rather private person so I don't talk finances with anyone but my banker and now you, you're correct. The estate needed more updates than was first thought and between that and outfitting the bottom half to become a clinic I’ve burned through 75% of my savings. And while I won't be destitute after working so hard for so many years it does leave a bad taste in one's mouth. Your gift is beautiful and I will keep it as is and add it to my rainy day fund. When the time comes that I feel more comfortable I'll return it to you. And might I also add if you are so interested in your tricky little songbird who can't sing it is probably not a good idea to be sending gifts or letters to another woman halfway across the world. I would hate to be the eventual cause of a divorce if your heart should lead you to marry this bird. That and the fact that a place of a mistress is not a position that I felt would ever suit me.

Sincerely yours, Florence Bell

P.S. Women always value honesty, Tommy. So you should tell your little bird that she is “a cheap replacement”. Your words, not mine.

#cillian murphy #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #lime #eventual smut

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amomentofsonder · 3 months ago

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*posting my 4-year-old write up from my private tumblr acct hehehe thought of sharing it out there after seeing a cute IG reel about the series heheheh

Post-Before

I came across a Facebook post about a fourth installment entitled Before the End on the widely-acclaimed Before series which has long been part of my watchlist. This prompted me to immediately start binge watching the trilogy -- Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight -- and I didn’t regret choosing this over the You series which I’ve bookmarked a site for since I don’t own any Netflix account as of this time. Most of us know how minimalistic the movies are since it revolves and highlights conversations which made the trilogy famous. The first (1994) and second movies (2004) highly focus on the two main characters’ conversations but on the third movie (2013), there was more improvement since there were multiple characters present. What makes the trilogy also special are the topics being covered throughout the dialogues which ranges from love, politics, music, books, movies, dreams, memories, and any other aspects of life.

The story starts with an American tourist meeting a French student aboard a train after the latter transferred a seat across the former to stay away from a fighting couple. It was the summer of ‘94 when the conversation between a cynic Jesse and a romantic Celine started. The two walked around the streets of Vienna, talking and reminiscing, after Jesse convinced Celine to get off the train with him and continue their conversation. They only had an evening since Jesse will be returning to the US the next morning and Celine needs to return to Paris for school. They didn’t exchange information but planned on meeting six months after on the same place. Call my cynical but I believe this sort of situation only happens probably 20% in real life (???) because you may never know but the person you’re talking to is actually some kind of psycho killer or thief but I’m not denying that it’s romantic though. It’s just that the world is not a safe place to live in and we all have to be vigilant if we want to live.

On the second movie, nine years after the events of the first, you could really see the drastic changes between the two main characters. Jesse, a now successful writer and a married man with a son named Hank, writes a book on his experiences nine years prior while Celine becomes an environmentalist and an activist with a long distance war photographer boyfriend. Everything was fine until Celine read his book and decided to attend his last book tour at her favorite bookshop in France. Sparks fly and their feelings once again reignited upon meeting but they only have an afternoon since Jesse is to fly back to the US in the evening. It was also known that Jesse actually went back to Vienna as planned. However, Celine was not able to make it due to her grandmother’s death which happened on the same day of their plan. In this movie, you could see how both characters were unhappy with their current situations despite their excellent contributions to their respective careers. Personally, I somehow relate myself with Celine and her unluckiness in her love life after having several ex-partners who each got married after breaking up with her and calling her thanking her how she helped them in knowing what love is. I mean, wow, are we grooming men to be the future husbands of other women??? Hahahaha I just can’t with the idea.

The third film is set another nine years after the events of Before Sunset. They are now together here with twins after Jesse divorced his wife in the US. They had a deal to have their son, Hank, visit them every Summer. This movie made so much improvements compared to the previous ones because it touched so many topics with multiple characters and conversations present and also highlights the conflict between Celine’s career and Jesse’s frustration in being a father with his elder son. The family are invited in Greece by a famous writer for a six-week vacation. The infamous fight between Jesse and Celine marks the climax of the movie and people were wondering if they would really end up 56 more years to match the 74 marriage years of Jesse’s grandparents. I can’t also help but relate with Celine, not as a mother but as a woman. Because of the patriarchal principles established in our society wherein women are expected to stay at home, tend to the children and the house -- the woman is capable and wants to do the things she loves to do that would empower her as an individual but finds it hard to do it because of being tied with her family. I understand Jesse’s dilemma as well since he is aware of the effects of their divorce to his son and there is this constant pressure of saving him from the impending effects who lives miles away from where they are based. Jesse wanting to be with Hank means Celine giving up her career thus, starting a conflict in their married life. If I were them, they can settle a schedule where Jesse travels to and fro to stay with Hank for a couple of weeks perhaps without neglecting his father and husband duties with Celine and Nina and Ella and then Celine can now go on with her plans and aspirations for her career. It may be hard but marriage and love consist of compromises and sacrifices for the ones you love and yourself. They just have to meet somewhere in between.

Remember when I said I started watching the trilogy after seeing snippets of Before the End with Jesse and Celine in a video call, separated? I probed a fan and apparently that wasn’t real and they were pieces of interviews put together to make it look legit. God, I was so relieved because I think I couldn’t bear yet the idea of them eventually separating given with that tense events in the third movie. It was a nice try for the fans though. At least it fooled me to finally start watching it hahahahahaah

The Before Series taught me so much about life that it really is not always magic and butterflies. The transformation of Celine from being a romantic French girl to a careful, fearful woman got me a lot and made me realize that it’s actually hard to find someone to spend your life with and appreciate mundane stuff with. Jesse’s cynical and depressed personality made him write books as a way of channeling his inner emotions and make them alive. People with deep emotions are usually the ones inclined to arts and I could never agree more. And of course, the connection established among people is something the series showed me and it’s one of the most important foundations in building relationships as long as you are honest and genuine within yourselves.

The storyline was actually based on a real life event by the director of the trilogy himself. Apparently, the real woman inspired by Celine’s character died before the release of the Before Sunrise in which the director only knew of this in 2010.

#beforetrilogy #jessie #celine #beforesunrise #beforesunset #beforemidnight

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readingloveswounds · 4 months ago

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Why did you decide to go to France? Is it essential or important for your research? And did you already know how to speak french? x

Hi!

The second question is quick to answer: yes, I did. I've been taking French since I was 5, I majored in it (+ studied abroad), worked there for ~9 months, and am in a French program for my PhD (required to have native/near-native level). So it's pretty much fine, living here. I'm a little precious about my writing skills but I am reasonably good at it generally.

To the first question:

It is essential for my research. Prior to coming here, I might have said just important, but after having been here, it is essential. My advisor did say that it was extremely important to see things in person and I should have believed him.

Connections! I despise networking BUT I've been able to meet so many people face-to-face who work in my sub-field. That has led to two conference invitations and I hope to ask one of those people to be on my dissertation committee, so it's nice to have a relationship already.

Peace and quiet. I went monk mode this year - I was on multiple fellowships and thus did not have to teach or anything, so my main job was writing the dissertation. There were fewer distractions, though I did see friends and do some traveling, but it was easier to just buckle down and get things done.

It is true that many of the documents I work on have been digitized - but not all. A few examples of why I needed to be here:

PRINTS: All the prints from my first chapter are digitized. However, they are digitized individually - you don't get to experience them as a sequence at all. Which is fine, they were designed to be printed one by one, but as has been shown, a LOT of contemporarily-compiled sets were done so in their entirety or near-entirety. That's actually the reason I gave when I had to provide a reason to the BNF for seeing one of the albums - I wanted to see the sequence.

It changes the experience to see them in order. Something I hadn't anticipated was how much the size of them also influences the experience - they are BIG and it's important to see them in real life at that real size.

It also allowed me to take my own photos - the scans online are high quality, but one of the prints that has a lot of cross hatching to depict darkness is not amazingly well scanned, so it was good to get clearer images.

Related print series are NOT digitized - I wanted to see a German printer's reproduction/extension of the print series. These are not as easily found online in their entirety, and again, seeing their real-life size was very helpful. It makes it clear that the original printers were making images that I would call more effective.

MARTYROLOGY:

There are 15 editions of this martyrology. 4 of these are easy enough to find online, but the first edition is NOT easily found online, so in person was the only way to really see what was going on there.

Being able to see several editions at once gives a good idea of how it has changed over time - the first edition is in-octavo (small enough to go in a pocket) and the final edition is over a foot long and probably about 6 inches thick.

There also isn't a good modern edition of any of these texts - the final one has been edited but it's from the 1800s, so it just felt better to go ahead and reference the originals in this case, especially since I was using three editions to a large extent in the chapter.

MISC:

I got to see a MS in person that I'd written an article on. It's a bit emotional too, to see this man's handwriting. He's been dead since 1630, but here I am looking at the marks he made. This wasn't strictly necessary but it was a really important experience for me personally.

Understandably, but something I hadn't anticipated - it's easier to get access to secondary sources because the BNF has everything, and, obviously prioritizes French critics. In the US, it takes a while to get off-campus storage stuff, but at the BNF if it's not there, I can often order it for that afternoon or the next day.

#my answers #lol i put the readmore in a weird place but im not fixing it #to be clear - PLENTY of people can and have done great work while requesting scans #and stuff like that #it just happened that since i could i did and it proved to be extremely helpful

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skiplo-wave · 1 year ago

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~ The woman who lived to be 110.....

1913 - 0. Birth in Rochester, New York

1914 - 1. Parents died and put into foster care. World War I broke out.

1915 - 2. Adopted by a family in Indiana and moved there.

1916 - 3. The girl was always so curious, asking questions and very smart for age.

1917 - 4. She learned to read and write at a very young age. She even knew how to spell her name in cursive.

1918 - 5. The girl and her family caught the spanish influenza. The girl only had a mild case and her adoptive parents died early on from the sickness. The girl than was adopted by her aunt and uncle of her adoptive-dad side of the family. The girl was put in school later that fall. World War I ended in November.

1919 - 6. The girl was sad all the time and grieved for her adoptive parents.

1920 - 7. The girl suffered from a bad bout of the flu for 2 months. She had a talent for baseball but was never allowed to play on the team in school because "boys only".

1921 - 8. The girl suffered yet again another bout of the flu that took her 4 months to recover. She missed a lot of schooling.

1922 - 9. The girl had a few more sicknesses until finally the doctor took her tonsils and realized it was part of the problem. The other the spanish influenza strain she had 4 years prior may had weakened her immune system even though she had a mild case.

1923 - 10. The girl was much healthier years later. She got to visit England and Wales in the spring.

1924 - 11. The girl began to enter womanhood, learn etiquette and cooking skills & home making. She got to visit Ireland that summer.

1925 - 12. The girl visited Scotland with her family, where she discovered a sapphire medieval ring she never turned over to the authorities. It was by ruins and she kept it for herself fearing they would take it away. It's probably royal artifacts.

1926 - 13. The girl visited France in the spring of 1926 and got to try her first little sip of wine. Later that year in the autumn, some places banned Halloween after a boy murdered his family. This story inspired the 1978 movie Halloween.

1927 - 14. The girl was asked to be a bridesmaid at her cousins wedding that was ruined by the great flood of the south killing several people including people at the wedding. She and her family was able to escape. A month later she visited Italy with her family and went again the next year in 1928.

1928 - 15. The bird flu hit.

1929 - 16. The great depression came. The girl's uncle lost his job and had the move the family down south of Indiana where they lived on a river. They ate a lot of fish.

1930 - 17. The girl meets a boy who would later become her future husband.

1931 - 18. Senior year of high school was the most lonely as she and her crush was the only two seniors in their school.

1932 - 19. The girl graduated in a very small ceremony. She went to college in the fall to become a nurse.

1933 - 20. Money trouble hit again and the woman had to quit college to go to work.

1934 - 21. The woman meets her high school crush again.

1935 - 22. The woman and her high school crush gets married. Her new husband was making good money that would allow her to go back to nursing school but she declined.

1936 - 23. Year of so much uncertainty and the woman was told by three doctors that she could not have a baby.

1937 - 24. Chaos in Germany and the Airship Hindenburg tragedy rocked the newspapers. The woman feared her husband would be called to war soon.

1938 - 25. Fear continues to grow....

1939 - 26. It was a cold winter in 1939 as a scarlet fever outbreak swept through the valley. The woman and her husband caught the fever. She thought they would both die but they survived the sickness. Many of their neighbors did not.

1940 - 27. A miracle happened and the woman became pregnant. She gave birth on October 7th, 1940, to a healthy baby girl. Her past doctors could not explain it. The woman theorized that when she was a child & became sick with the spanish influenza, it made her very weak. She believed the scarlet fever reset her body somehow. Although she had no scientific proof, she believed this was the case.

1941 - 28. The woman became pregnant again in late summer. In December, all hell breaks loose. News broke in the early hours on December 7th, that Pearl Harbor was attacked. The woman's husband was not called to war but he was called to serve as a recruit officer. The woman feared for her baby if she was carrying a son.

1942 - 29. In the spring of 1942 on May 1st, the woman gave birth to a son.

1943 - 30. War, death, work, rationing, funerals.... A endless loop of pain.

1944 - 31. On August 25th, 1944, the woman gave birth to a set of twins. A girl and a boy.

1945 - 32. The war was starting to come to a end.

1946 - 33. The woman gave birth to her 5th child, son on June 23rd, 1946. The soldiers was beginning to become back home. But a new mystery dancing on the sea in the bermuda triangle.

1947 - 34. Things was beginning to get better toward the end of 1947. A change was coming and Roswell UFO touched down.

1948 - 35. The woman gave birth to her 6th child, another son on September 12th, 1948.

1949 - 36. The woman became pregnant again and the last time.

1950 - 37. The woman gave birth to her last child, a daughter on April 10th, 1950. After having 7 healthy babies, she became anemic with each one and it got worse with each baby. She decided a tubal ligation was the best for her. Two months later, the woman feared again for her young sons as the Korean War broke out.

1951 - 38. The war took a tole on a lot of people, even the King of England.

1952 - 39. The King of England died and the Elizabeth became Queen. This was a huge deal at the time.

1953 - 40. The woman traveled all the way to England to see the coronation of Queen Elizabeth.

1954 - 41. Whispers of flying saucer sightings.

1955 - 42. Area 51 Mystery.

1956 - 43. The woman started her own business.

1957 - 44. The woman and her family moves to California.

1958 - 45. Peaceful Years

1959 - 46. Peaceful Years

1960 - 47. Peaceful Years

1961 - 48. Peaceful Years

1962 - 49. New fear begins...

1963 - 50. Hell breaks loose. The Vietnam War rages on.

1964 - 51. A nightmare came to true: Her eldest son is marching off to war.... (He made it back home.)

1965 - 52. Fearful Years

1966 - 53. Fearful Years || Uncle died.

1967 - 54. Fearful Years || Birth of First Grandchild

1968 - 55. Fearful Years || Aunt died.

1969 - 56. Fearful Years || America lands on the moon and the Tisulsky Princess is found two months later. Her coffin was never seen again.

1970 - 57. Her son return home from the military safe.

1971 - 58. Husband's has a heart attack but pulls through okay.

1972 - 59. Winding Down

1973 - 60. War coming to a end.

1974 - 61. 70s riot

1975 - 62. Inherited money from birth parents that was thought to be lost.

1976 - 63. The woman retired with her husband and they moved back to Indiana.

1977 - 64. Back To Peaceful Years

1978 - 65. Blizzard of 78 nearly killed the woman and her husband both.

1979 - 66. Peaceful Years

1980 - 67. Peaceful Years

1981 - 68. Peaceful Years

1982 - 69. Peaceful Years

1983 - 70. Peaceful Years

1984 - 71. Peaceful Years

1985 - 72. Peaceful Years

1986 - 73. Peaceful Years

1987 - 74. Husband begins having health problems

1988 - 75. Husband has second heart attack

1989 - 76. Husband health declines

1990 - 77. The woman's husband dies in January of 1990. The woman nearly dies of broken heart syndrome. Later that June, the woman passes the house onto her children and she moves herself into a assisted living home. A new war - desert storm - breaks out.

1991 - 78. 1 Year In A.L.

1992 - 79. 2 Years In A.L.

1993 - 80. 3 Years In A.L.

1994 - 81. 4 Years In A.L.

1995 - 82. 5 Years In A.L.

1996 - 83. 6 Years In A.L.

1997 - 84. 7 Years In A.L.

1998 - 85. 8 Years In A.L.

1999 - 86. 9 Years In A.L.

2000 - 87. 10 Years In A.L.

2001 - 88. 11 Years In A.L. || Hell breaks out again..... 9/11

2002 - 89. 12 Years In A.L.

2003 - 90. 13 Years In A.L.

2004 - 91. 14 Years In A.L.

2005 - 92. 15 Years In A.L.

2006 - 93. 16 Years In A.L.

2007 - 94. 17 Years In A.L.

2008 - 95. 18 Years In A.L.

2009 - 96. 19 Years In A.L.

2010 - 97. 20 Years In A.L.

2011 - 98. 21 Years In A.L.

2012 - 99. 22 Years In A.L.

2013 - 100. 23 Years In A.L. || Birth of her first great-grandchild.

2014 - 101. 24 Years In A.L.

2015 - 102. 25 Years In A.L.

2016 - 103. 26 Years In A.L.

2017 - 104. 27 Years In A.L.

2018 - 105. 28 Years In A.L.

2019 - 106. 29 Years In A.L.

2020 - 107. 30 Years In A.L. || Became ill with COVID-19 and beat it.

2021 - 108. 31 Years In A.L. || Became ill again with COVID-19 and beat it. In 2021 she got to experience the birth of her great-great grandchild.

2022 - 109. 32 Years In A.L. || Became weak and frail. The woman was moved over to a nursing home.

2023 - 110. The woman passed away peacefully in her sleep at midnight of January 1, 2023.

🫡

#asks

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breakingnews-880 · 2 years ago

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NEWS - We must bring Macron down

After weeks of targeted strikes, French workers launch an indefinite strike against pension reforms. French President Emmanuel Macron refuses to alter his plans to reform the country's beloved pension system. In an effort to compel his hand last week, unions across France raised the stakes and launched an indefinite strike.

The French government has so far refused to change course despite weeks of targeted strikes by workers against President Emmanuel Macron's plans to raise the national retirement age and reform the country's beloved pension system. For that reason associations across various enterprises raised the risk last week, sending off an endless strike until laborers' requests are met. "We have no choice, we must make Macron back down, make the employers back down," said Eric Challal of the Solidaires Unitaires Démocratiques (SUD) Railway Union. We have this chance to fight together as workers because wages are too low, prices are skyrocketing, the threat of war is real, and there is no shortage of money in this society. Brandon Jourdan, a video journalist and contributor to TRNN, covers the most recent escalation of strike actions in France from the streets of Paris.

This video is part of a special Workers of the World series that looks at the crisis with Europe's high cost of living.

Brandon Jourdan, the storyteller: The ongoing strike wave in France against President Emmanuel Macron's pension reforms entered a new phase on March 7, 2023. The government claimed that 1.28 million people participated in strikes, while the unions estimated that 3.5 million people took part in the largest single day of action in decades. The sixth day of national strikes in two months was the most extensive according to either estimate. After the main day of action, tactics have escalated toward continuous strikes in many key sectors because the national strikes have not prevented pension reforms from moving forward.

TotalEnergies: Eric Sellini, General Confederation of Labor (CGT). It is abundantly clear that the government is still carrying out its plan. The presentation was made in the National Assembly; it is now in the Senate. We have the impression that, regardless, Macron is not ready to give up immediately. In this way, that is the reason every one of the associations, and specifically the CGT, we chose to take the preparation up a score and today to check the start of a significant stage as far as preparation which is the start of the ceaseless strike in many organizations the nation over.

Brandon Jourdan (storyteller): A general assembly of railway workers at Gare du Nord was held prior to the main rally in Paris to decide whether or not to continue their strike beyond March 7.

SUD Railway Union's Eric Challal, speaking before the assembly: We haven't seen the strength of workers on this scale in a long time. We also know that because we have all witnessed what transpired in Parliament and the Senate, as well as all of the parliamentary motion pictures, we should not anticipate anything different. A new phase of the movement—the strike—the continuous strike—begins here.

Therefore, I propose that we continue the strike. We accomplished this by holding a general assembly here at 11:00 a.m. Therefore, the general assembly will be reconvened and the strike will continue through tomorrow, the eighth, at 11:00 a.m. https://shazam2-onlinsubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://shazam2-online-subtitrat-2023.statuspage.io/ https://shazam2-filmulonline-2023.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-shazam2-furyofthegods-online-subtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://scream6-onlinesubtitrat-1080p.statuspage.io/ https://screamvi-onlinesubtitrat-2023.statuspage.io/ https://urmariti-scream6-filmulonline.statuspage.io/ https://filme-scream6-2023.statuspage.io/ https://johnwickcapitolul4-onlinesubtitrat2023.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-johnwickcapitolul4-1080p.statuspage.io/ https://johnwickcapitolul4-filmonline-2023.statuspage.io/ https://vezi-johnwickcapitolul4-filmhd-2023.statuspage.io/ https://creediii-filmulonlinesubtitrat-2023.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-creed3-2023-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://urmariti-creed3-hd-2023.statuspage.io/ https://creediii-filmhd2023-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://vezi-ramon-2023-filmonline-1080p.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-ramon-filmonlineromana-1080p.statuspage.io/ https://urmariti-ramon-hd2023.statuspage.io/ https://ramon-filmhd2023-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://vezi-theperfectescape-filmonline-hd1080p.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-theperfectescape-filmonline2023.statuspage.io/ https://urmariti-theperfectescape-hd2023.statuspage.io/ https://theperfectescape-filmhd2023-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://vezi-rominavtm-filmonlinehd1080p.statuspage.io/ https://filmul-rominavtm-onlinesubtoitrat2023.statuspage.io/ https://urmariti-rominavtm-hd2023.statuspage.io/ https://rominavtm-filmhd2023-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://filmul2023-shazam2-onlinesubtitrat.statuspage.io/ https://newsworld-223.blogspot.com/2023/03/we-must-bring-macron-down.html https://fnw-2023.blogspot.com/2023/03/fnw.html https://hutananak35.medium.com/we-must-bring-macron-down-2023-1e146aa66581 https://groups.google.com/g/world-football-news-2022/c/noZj-PlVTOE

#We must bring Macron down #News #2023

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rose84sworld · 2 years ago

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Okay, so this is my first post ever and I’d like to write about a very special date for me, one that I’ll always keep in my heart.

POV : January 8th 2022

It’s been months since I’ve been truly content, I started doing things I never thought about a few months ago, I’m spending my precious time on useless amount of instagram posts and talking to random people online, through comments. Next year it’ll be my last year in school and even though I know I have to study hard enough to be able to go to a good university in two years time, I can not even motivate myself to do anything that read Wattpad stories on my phone. I remember I was talking to someone at that time over snapchat, she annoyed me though, but I didn’t want to seem rude so I continued talking to her. On January 8th 2022, I am laying on my bed in total darkness. I am not feeling well as I have SH’d a few minutes prior, and when I take my phone to scroll down instagram again, I see a notification, somebody started following me on instagram. I decided to see if they wanted to talk to me for a few minutes, maybe that would stop me from overthinking. I type five letters : H, E, L, L, O. Hello, and they respond me with the exact same message. I think it’s good to start a conversation, we talk for a while about our names, our ages, about where we live, and how she loves France. Her name is Marie, she’s from Germany and apparently 3 years younger than me. I have quite the attitude while texting her, just like every day in school, I am kind of flirty but I don’t think she notices it, she doesn’t know I’m lesbian either ways. After a while I’m curious as to why she started following me. She tells me that there isn’t any real reason to it, and that it was just random. We continue talking but as I know there can be homophobic people out there I decided to just drop the bomb and tell her I’m lesbian, I made sure to apologise if it made her uncomfortable because I thought she was a nice girl no matter what. She tells me that it didn’t bother her and that it would even be very hypocritical of her to not like that cause she’s lesbian herself. I am so shocked, honestly I didn’t expect it. She confessed that she saw one of my comments under some guy’s post about how I am homosexual and decided to follow me cause I seemed cool. Anyways we continue talking for a while until she needs to go back to her family because it was her sister’s birthday. It did make me stop overthinking and I feel so good.

That’s it the story of how I met the most important person in my life, little did I know I would fall in love. I’m going to write about her in this blog so I can keep show them all to our children in the future.

-D

#wlw post #long distance relationship #wlw community #i love her #how we met #long distance romance #ldr lesbian

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theliterateape · 2 years ago

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The Final Stage of Grief

by Don Hall

Prior to recording a recent Literate ApeCast, Himmel and I talked a bit about the Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief. In regards to the demise of my third marriager and subsequent demolishing of the life I thought I was living, it turns out that I have mixed them up some, skipped one step altogether, and am now in the final act.

The stages are Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance. I think I went through Denial and Depression at the same time during the four months hiding in my one bedroom apartment in Vegas. I skipped Bargaining altogether and only recently got to Anger. So, what does Acceptance look like?

Before Apple got all on top of things photos-wise, I used Google Photos a lot. I got rid of it a few years ago because Google has become a predatory feature in the world of data sales but apparently had not deleted the cache of pictures taken over the years.

My iCloud only goes back as 2012 with exactly one photo of me getting a key lime martini in a high end bar with Vanessa Harris. I don't know why I kept it but I like the look on my face as well as the odd spectacle of having a bright green cocktail in hand. Looking at the shot reminds me of a day when Harris and I were wandering around together, telling stories, getting drunk in the day with booze and words. It was a good day and I suppose this one photo expands in my recollection.

The Google Photos account is less curated and more like a giant photo dump. A fair amount of duplicates exist in this digital desk drawer or suitcase and there are over 8,000 pictures of bits both large and small littered in the mix. The timeline went as far back as 2006. Eighteen years of my path suddenly thrust in my face.

As I did eight months ago when the sordid details of my third wife's secret life blew up in my face like sewage suddenly shooting straight up out the shower drain, I decided to cull every photo of her, of any hint we had been together, a purge of memories that revealed to me what a sham the whole thing was in effort to do something that felt like emotional chemotherapy. Kill the cancer, grow your hair back, reframe existence.

I used to keep screenshots of plane tickets as a backup and, in this moment, each represented the beginning of a hundred little getaways and vacations, holiday travel, and work related journeys. Before 2014, there were a lot of pictures of me. An embarrassing treasure of Narcissus, gazing into the pool of selfies, reveling in my transformative weight loss of that time when I dropped 80 pounds in 2007/2008. Also in tow were hundreds of inspirational phrases laid out on stock photos as reminders I suppose.

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see." "Do no harm. Embrace possibility. Live to tell about it." "Live the Dream. Endure the Nightmare." and one of my favorites that seems to encapsulate both my desire for reminders to avoid being bogged down in convention and my tendency toward treating obstacles with unfettered aggression: "Life is Short. Can you really say you've lived if you haven't punched a stupid person in the face?"

A shot of my friend Matt sleeping on my couch the summer he crashed for three months waiting for his fiancé to return from France. Carl Kasell posing with a bunch of the Carl plush dolls I ordered to sell for Wait, Wait... Don't Tell Me!. A panorama shot of me standing on a Michigan beach taken by Alice.

Countless pics of performances of The Moth, BUGHOUSE!, LitMash, and the myriad events I produced for WBEZ all around Chicago. Family photos from Christmas and the Fourth of July—the shock of seeing my nephew (who died from a fentanyl overdose in 2020) when he was alive and happy was bittersweet but lovely. Joe and I roadtripping it to Kansas for my grandma's funeral.

Apparently, from 2008—2016 I had some bizarre desire to take brochure shots of bathroom graffiti in seedy bars all over Chicago.

Along the way I deleted photos of people who were friends at the time but ended up enemies. "It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see." Up until 2014, I saw a lot of me, a lot of my friends, a lot of life as it unfolded in the form of events and shows and pledge drives and time in the gym. I had already culled through the Alice pictures but strangely managed to still have a few shots of Katie whom I only dated for six weeks.

Sunday, May 11, 2014 was the day things changed. All of the inspirational phrases, carefully set in creative fonts, became pronouncements of love.

"She's mad but she's magic. There's no lie in her fire." "And suddenly, all the love songs were about you." "What we find in a soulmate is not something wild to tame but something wild to run with." "You're kinda, sorta, basically pretty much always on my mind."

The tone shifted in the Google Photos slog through nostalgia. All of a sudden there were scores of pictures of her. The third wife. The fiancé after three dates. Out of the 8,000 stored images, nearly 5,000 were of her or us.

One of her quirks, I'll call it, was that she seemed to be living every one of her failed relationships as if each one had ended the day before. She was still angry at the high school boyfriend who dumped her, the blonde dreamboat who moved to D.C. leaving her behind, the porn photographer who "lost his sexual mojo." She would routinely rant about the frequently homeless guy she dated before meeting me who fetishized her, had a horse cock, and tried to smother her with a pillow once out of jealousy. The frustration of thwarted expectations sat within her all the time to be dredged up in random moments on random days to foul her mood and revisit that which still felt fresh and bleeding in her mind.

I never really understood this quirk as I can barely remember any of the bad times in my past relationships to the point that, when I do think about them, the simple narrative of why it worked and why it failed obfuscates any remembrance of anger or pain. The first ex-wife and I married too young and out of sense that that was what we were supposed to do. We did our best but, in the end, couldn't sustain it. The second ex-wife and I got married out of a transactional artistic arrangement and when I stopped producing shows for her to direct, she found someone else. Alice, while not a wife but a four-year off and on battle, couldn't get enough of sex with me but fundamentally didn't like me much. I stopped ruminating on the specifics of how's and why's and could see more good than bad within each failure.

My past is represented in scars, I thought. Hers are perpetually bleeding.

So I culled my Google Photos of the memories as thoroughly as I could. Countless pictures of the two of us on vacation—Jamaica, St. Thomas, New Orleans, Paris, London, Edinburgh, places in Michigan, Reno, Flagstaff, Harrisburg. Countless pictures of family holidays. Countless shots of her playing drums with various bands in various venues around Chicago. Poetry readings. Storytelling events. Medieval Times. Cirque du Soleil. Pub crawls with flights of beer. House parties.

There were at least several hundred pictures of her nude modeling she'd sent me. At least several hundred of the two of us posing for a couples selfie all over the place. An entire album of our Vegas wedding.

Through it all, I kept expecting to be overwhelmed by grief or anger or disillusionment. I wasn't.

On the day after we decided to divorce but the day before she confessed she'd been working as a prostitute for nearly three years, I told her that, while things didn't work the way we thought it would, ours was the best marriage and the most loved I'd ever lived. I meant it, it apparently meant a lot to her, and we both cried. The next day she unveiled the unthinkable and all of that sentiment was forgotten.

That's the thing about shock. If you're at least a little bit emotionally healthy, it wears off. Sure, it takes time to heal up, to get those bloody cuts to scab over and eventually scar, but it does wear off. "It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

What I see was what everyone else saw. A strange but lovely couple. I was ridiculously and wholly in love with this woman. For five years in Chicago, we had an extraordinary partnership even with the personal quirks and curveballs thrown by life. What I see is a man in love and a woman doing her best to love him back. I see joy and laughter. I see mutual support. I see my family embrace her and she embrace them.

I see, for five years, between 2014 and 2019, the best marriage I'd ever had.

When my nephew died, I put together a video in memoriam for my sister. It included pictures of him from birth until shortly before he passed. One of the awful things I noticed in putting it together was that as his life got closer to the day of his death, his eyes started changing. He looked like someone going downhill. It was stark and obvious when no one really saw it at the time.

The Google Photos from the time we arrived in Vegas until the day I knew she decided to live her lie and then until we split reveal something similar. There are fewer pictures of her and the ones that were taken show her flipping the camera off or looking annoyed that I'm taking a picture at all. She starts wearing more and more makeup. Her clothing, which was always sort of a grunge 90's aesthetic, became more tattered and trashy. We took a day trip to Rhyolite, NV and there are forty pictures of the place and only three of her, six of me, and one of the two of us together. She looks unhappy in the four she's posing in.

Another quirk of hers was to subtly adopt the local accent of any place we visited. I first noticed it when we honeymooned in Jamaica. As soon as we got off the plane, her normal speech was suddenly musical in that Jamaican way. When she spoke to locals it became more pronounced. She did this in France and in London, too. Perhaps this assimilation was deeper than the accents but with the place. Las Vegas is a place of easy money, flexible morality, and an influx of tourists coming to have a fine, filthy time before going back to their homes and cubicles.

I'll never know what the truth was and it likely doesn't matter if I do. Getting rid of her photos from this specific digital dump felt more like packing up the clothing of someone who died to go to Goodwill. The woman for whom I collected hundreds of excerpts from Pablo Neruda and lovesick sayings died in February of 2020—I just didn't know until much later. I'll confess that I miss her but who she was rather than who she is and that's some Grade A mindfuckery.

I didn't see the change in her until it was long past the expiration date. I was looking but wasn't seeing what is now completely obvious through the photographs through our time together. I wouldn’t change a day with her for those first five years because I was in love and was with the person I was in love with. The person she chose to be once we got to Vegas is no one I ever wish to see again and so I delete all memory of her as completely as I can. I suppose that’s how all split ups are and the duality of our memories pervades the path forward.

Funny that, as I deleted thousands of reminders of her, I'm keeping all the inspirational sayings and even a few of the romantic ones because you never know who’s coming around the corner, right?

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crucifixes-and-chrysanthemums · 2 years ago

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Wowza. No, wowzers. I just made a DO IT FOR HER thing for Sixto to motivate him to get better at running with Kate Marsh, so Life is Strange is on the brain. Hence, wowzers, its been a hot minute since I last journaled. 4/4/22 is my last, and today is 12/10/22. Its been a good year, I suppose. James got a DUI a few weeks ago and is going to be quitting his job at the OPWDD since his license is getting suspended pending the court hearing for some reason. Total bullshit, but whatever. Maybe I can get him into 7-Eleven. He asked if we’re taking applications. It could be nice. Anyway.

A couple weeks ago my sister went on a week long drug binge, came home, had a major bipolar episode, and got 51-50′d. That was right around the 20th of November. Whatever the previous Friday was, I think. Maybe. Anyhoo, she was there for three days. The last few weeks, she’s been at home smoking pot, going wherever she wants with dad, and smoking pot with dad. It’s fucking stupid, but what am I gonna do about it? Could be worse. As if the gulf between dad and I needed to be any wider, of course. Eh, its always sorta been me and Mom, then Tessa and dad. Stressful, but I guess it could be worse. I’m slowly beginning to hope that we’re on the mend.

Summer was Owen’s wedding. Truth be told, I love the guy, but he’s going down the wrong path. He’s got a nice apartment in Grand Rapids, him and Stephanie, but he’s going down the grifter route and I think that's a bad idea, psychically speaking. Bad karma, or whatever. I had a great time, though, generally. I did all the driving. Got stopped for speeding once on the way there and once on the way back, and only got one ticket. I made burgers stuffed with feta and mozzarella, with a topping of chives, dijon mustard, and sour cream. Corn on the cob on the side. Simple, but neither Alex, James, nor I spoke when we ate. Just mouths opening and closing. Damn, that’s a good burger. Drank three vodka crans in an hour and a half at the reception. Prayed with Owen. Flirted a little with some girl. Danced. Gay ol’ time. James and I never got any fishing done, but such is life.

My prayer life, as of lately, is sorta in the shits if I’m honest. Its just... Hard, man. Rosaries have never appealed to me. At the same time, I don’t feel like God has abandoned me, you know? I’m trying to make everything I do a prayer. Well, alright, I’m trying to make some of the things I do a prayer. I did just finish a book called Eternity, My Beloved by Jean Sulivan and absolutely adored it. Its about a priest in France named Jerome Strozzi (called Tonzi) who essentially becomes a caretaker to down-and-outs. He hangs around with prostitutes, never evangelizing or moralizing to them. Just telling them he loves them, and that they have dignity. That’s when he speaks, which is rarely. They reform. It made so much sense to me. The best way to evangelize, to speak Christ into others lives, is to not do so at all. Just make your faith known, and then be quiet and listen. Treat others well. Thursday, when I’d finished talking to Mike about it, I got a text from an old friend from college, Erika. She asked me if I’d gone through RCIA, because she’s considering it. I passed along Mike and Leslie’s emails. God is good, even if He and I don’t always see eye to eye.

So, speaking of that. I’ve been working on a little bit of a project as of the last while. A group for young adult Catholics in the parish and the surrounding parishes. Mike used the term “faith support group” at some point, and I like that. I picture it as a sort of “ready-made friend group”? Man, my notes are all over the place on it, honestly. I’ve got two thirds written down, on paper, another half in my phone, and a bit more in my head. Gotta get this together. Anyway, the idea in short is a group of young adults, between 18 and say 35, that meet once a week or twice a month. Spend 15 minutes or so talking about the prior week’s readings - anything speak to you? Father say anything that really struck you? Hear something you wanted? Something you didn’t? After that, just open discussion. Maybe one time someone has a topic they wanna talk about - a sin they’re struggling with, or just something they know a lot about that they want to share with the group. The idea is to address loneliness. Why do we, as young adults, feel so fuckin’ lonely? We can access the width and breadth of the human experience with our fingertips but still, lonely lonely lonely. Ready-made friend group. There’s food, of course - a whole ass meal, ideally. Pizza the first couple nights, maybe. But also homemade stuff. Don’t lead, can’t. I can, but don’t want to. Its not about any of us, its just about us. Someone being an obvious leader is a bad idea. Mike said to take pointers from how AA works, actually. Gotta find someone to talk to about that. Mutual aid, mutual aid, mutual aid. We’ve gotta organize ourselves, because nobody is gonna do it for us. And if they did, we wouldn’t want it. They’d be fakers and grifters and ideologues. Kill your leaders, I guess.

I’m actually excited for this. I think its something we really need as a church, as young people, and as young churchgoers. Plan is to start it in the bulletin Jan 1, then have the first meeting end of January or beginning of February. Hopefully it goes somewhere. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise. That seems to be my prayer pretty often - “Good Lord willin’ and the crick don’t rise.” Just because I ain’t the best at praying and He and I aren’t always the best of friends (of course, by this I mean I’m not always a good friend to Him - its all on me, man, I know that) don’t mean I don’t know how, that I don’t, or that I don’t mean it.

DnD is going good with the OperatorChan guys. It’s me, Remo, Anubis, Garde, Senseless, and HingedKilljoy, a friend of Todd’s. Todd’s DMing. We’re playing tomorrow, last session before a long holiday break. Fun fun fun.

Oh, I’ve got a few job things coming up. Civil Service Exam for Corrections Officer later this month - that one’s online - and another for Water/Wastewater Treatment Plant Operator also this month, the 23rd. Then another for Custodian in February. They all pay more than I make now, and none are far away. Here’s to a better job - not gonna stay at Seven-Eleven forever.

Anyway, I guess that’s about it. Still single, but content with it. When I find someone, I find someone. God provides what I need.

12/10/2022

#crandch-blog

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chamberedbeauty · 8 months ago

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"Maybe it is," Gwen shoots back, though she reaches to softly rub his shoulder as he hides his head underneath the pillow. "But it's not for me. And you cannot change my mind on that." Her eyes widen as he quickly sits up, giving a soft gasp as he sways and she's not shy about grabbing his arms to steady him before feeling his forehead. "Don't do that. You're not invincible, you know that right?"

Her hands continue to softly move against his skin, eyeing the damage once again, though as he presses one of the markings against her fingers she lets them drop and reaches for his plate though freezes for a moment when he fires his question. She sets it down and sits back, rolling her eyes as her brows crease with frustration. "Would you stop being so nasty?"

But then he asks again, softer this time- curious even and suddenly it occurs to her. Maybe he didn't know. His father beat the woman he made a promise to love. Whether or not there was a time they actively loved and showed it, Gwen didn't know but surely violence and fear replaced any love for far longer- if it ever appeared at all.

Gwen's head cocks to the side for just a beat before she scoots back on his bed, crossing her legs as her hands perch behind her on the bed. "I wasn't ever supposed to tell a soul about this, but my mother was engaged before she met my father. Back in Montana, to another wealthy entrepreneur that at the time had prospects to align his business with my grandfathers. Mom wasn't too fond of him. She said she liked him well enough but she never felt any sort of passion behind it, but my grandmother didn't either- or the two generations before her, so she believed that's how all marriages were and books were just tales of fantasy. But she accompanied my grandfather on a trip here in December 1916 when she was 19. The largest city mom had been to prior was Chicago, she said she was blown away at how beautiful New York was yet terrified in the most mesmerizing way of it's size. One night she left her ring laying on the dresser of the hotel and snuck out to a party that was happening in the hotel ballroom. My father had just earned his general ranking and the party was for the men in the Manhattan precinct. They all suspected that soon enough they'd be joining the war, but were trying to keep their minds off of it- especially with Christmas just weeks away. Anyways, dad had his fair share of women gawking over him all his life. How couldn't he? Son of the Senator turned Governor? Never in all his life had anyone ever made his world pause, until he saw my mother walk through those doors. He said it was as if time ceased to exist and all he could wonder was how could he have lived twenty-four years without seeing something so beautiful. He said it took him forty minutes to finally gather the courage to go say hello, and just a simple hello made him blush and stutter- he said for the first time in his life. Afterwards, he bought my mom a drink, and they talked until four in the morning. They said they lost track of time and even though they'd been complete strangers just moments before, they both said it was as if they'd known each other their whole life. My mother didn't tell him she was engaged and when he asked to see her the following night she did. They went dancing. The day after that they went to the opera. On her final day in New York, she finally told him that she was set to be married, but that she'd call it off. My father refused. He didn't want her to suffer through the rejection and judgement her family and those around her would would project. He wanted to protect her...and so he let her go. When the United States had joined the war, daddy was sent to France and was placed in charged of an army of men sent to the Western Front. He doesn't talk to me about the Frontlines, nothing that shows anything other that heroics, but mom said that two months into the war she received a letter and inside that letter my dad described the horrors of the war- in the most gentlemanly way possible of course- and how he was scared. They were living with the rats and sloshing around in the cold muddy rain water that filled the trenches. Everyone around him was dying. Bullets entering the heads of the men right next to him. They were bombed, gassed, shot at, and living in hell. He said the only thing that was keeping him sane was knowing there was a woman from Montana who he would do anything to keep safe. He said at night when he could sleep he dreamed of her laugh- of her smile. He said he was sorry for sending her the letter and hoped it didn't cause her any trouble. He said she never had to respond, but he knew that he'd survive the war- not because he was good at what he did....but because she would keep him safe."

A small smile comes to Gwen's lips at the thought before continuing. "A week after the letter my mother called off her engagement. My grandfather nearly disowned her and sadly she had to actually say who my father was the son of for him to slowly accept it, though he said if it failed she'd lose everything. She wrote my dad back and sent him a locket with her photograph in it. They wrote back and forth all throughout the war- he even asked her to marry him in a letter- which my father will strictly deny because it wasn't proper, but I saw the letter. My mother kept all of them. In one of the last battles of the war, dad was shot...but it hit right where he kept the locket over his heart. Because of that he was able to save over 90 lives that day. He came home, bought a ring, and were married. I came into the picture a couple years later...and I've watched them grow together. There love is in the way my dad goes to the garden and just sits on the bench while my mother picks the flowers or produce. My father could not care less about a garden, but my mom does, so he makes sure he participates and listens to the way different weeds grow. It's the way mom never goes to bed without making sure my father goes too so that he never stresses too much about his job. It's the way they hold each others hand every chance they get or how they can go to the lounge and still- after twenty-two years talk for hours about nothing special."

"My father is the man of the house, as is every man, but my father has never raised his voice at her, and while he always has the final say- my mom is his partner and always has a voice. My dad is the ship, mom is the wind. That's what I know about love. It's gentle. It's safe. It's being vulnerable and knowing there is security."

Gwen shifts, reaching over to grab his plate again. "Not all true love has to be romantic though. There's the love I have for my brothers, and you your sisters. There's the love you have for Steve and the love you have for me too- and the love I have for you- even when you're rather unpleasant. Love is the strongest thing in the world- while the acts caused by love can be anything but, love is pure. It's joy. It's patience which-" The plate is shoved into his hands. "You have been testing this morning. So humor me and eat the damn toast."

The woman pauses for a moment as she moves to sit beside him again, softly bumping his shoulder with hers. "I don't want to see those marks on you like this again. I don't want to ever find you like that again. You are infuriating and stubborn and hotheaded and irrational at times but you are also one of the best people in the whole world- I know that for certain. You and Steve are my people, my very best friends. I adore you and I care about you....far too much to just pretend that this doesn't exist. You don't deserve that...you don't deserve to be hurt or sad....so please....no more of that. Because I've been around you and Steve for far too long, I'll punch her- I will." A grin comes to her lips as she animates her fist. "I will make sure she gets the message and on top of it I think I could pull off a sharp right hook- I don't really want to because it would probably hurt my hand and at the very least make my knuckles pop but....I will if I need to."

"It's different for you." HIs words are muffled by the pillow currently over his head, and he makes no attempt to explain that further. He doesn't have to, the point of the question in general is the explanation. It wasn't just that their circumstances were different, an obvious point of contention, it was that at this time, it was just different for a woman than it was for a man. Bucky knew if they were to walk outside and go down to the docks, he'd get high fived. If she were covered and she even walked out of her bedroom, she'd be put on lock down, in a chastity belt, and not let out until she was eighty.

It was just different.

As were the motives. He would hunt down whoever hurt her to the end of the earth because of deep seated jealousy of a man to be that close to her. To touch and taste her skin when he so desperately wanted these things that he ached from it. She was taking care of him because it was obligation. Because it was just what she did. Same as her sitting beside Steve's sick bed pressing a cool rag to fevered brow. She did these things out of a different kind of love.

But it was not this love that he wanted.

He sits up then, so suddenly that he has to close his eyes to prevent the sick feeling that washes over him. He's not entirely sure he's not green with it, but there's a sheer force of will keeping him from being sick now. That and the empty stomach he's refusing to rectify. They are closed when she touches a cool hand to his brow, it is there, and gone before he can lean into it. But he flinches when she touches the side of his neck. When she presses against the mark of his shame, and when he automatically leans forward to apply more pressure so that he can feel the pain.

This is a pain he did deserve.

When he does open them again, it's just one, just a crack, enough for that steel blue to be seen at the corner of his eye through dark lashes. "What do you even know about love?"

Suddenly, he's desperate to know, and this desperation could be read in him as he's finally awake and alert. Both eyes open, watching her intently.

Bucky cannot pinpoint the exact moment he looked at her and stopped seeing her in a safe, surface level, way. When he'd stripped back that casual comfort and exchanged it for the more intimate details. The curve of the cupid's bow, and fullness of her bottom lip. The way her cheeks had thinned, and the bones beneath the roundness hollowed, became more pronounced. Gwen had a slight dimple in her chin, not as pronounced as his own, but just enough that he always wanted to reach out, and press the tip of his finger to it. She'd gone from budding flower, to blossoming beautifully in every sense of the word.

At some point, he had shed the barrier that was being old friends who had shared a childhood, but she had not.

It was evident in the ease at which she touched him, and failed to notice the same in him. The day at the beach when she'd finally filled out from puberty and pressed against him in the water, clung to him against the waves. She'd squealed when he'd thrown her off, unable to bear the new weight in her chest, emerged dripping with water and anger as he tried not to stare at the skin exposed through her white suit. Inevitably, he'd gotten out of the water and sprawled out on the beach as far from her as possible.

"What do you know about love?" He asks again, making no move to take the water or toast, but not telling her to stop wasting his bread either. There's no cruelty in the question as he waits for her to feed him some bullshit line from one of the fairytales she loves. Because he knows, undoubtedly, that all thoughts of love come from there.

But what does he truly know about love either?

#lamentingwclf

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oddaodd · 3 years ago

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· July’s Official Birthday Flower ·

Summary: When the reader suffers yet another miscarriage, Tommy is there for her. Time helps them heal, but there’s always a little reminder of what they’ve lost.

Warnings: Detailed descriptions of miscarriage, grief, blood , sadness and pain.

Author’s note: I Think this is one of the angstiest fics I’ve ever written and I do think that I should put a disclaimer out there that if any of the warnings that I wrote up there tigger you, please don't read ahead.

A sharp pain awoke Y/n in a particularly warm summer night. Having been too familiar, more than anyone would like to be, with the particular pain she was feeling, she wasted no time in sitting up and getting out of bed, barely granting her significantly stained sheets a glance before she rushed to the bathroom, where the pains became more and more severe. She must have been spotting for hours before the pain woke her up.

Tommy was still sleeping on his side of the bed and for a reason Y/n didn’t want to make a sound. She carefully closed the bathroom door and took a few more steps until another wave of pain flowed through her body. Placing her hand over her mouth to buff the whimpers her throat couldn’t stop from escaping into her mouth, the pain increased. She began to feel blood quickly dripping down her legs but she couldn’t bring herself to look down, instead looking up at the small chandelier hanging from the bathroom’s ceiling as she took big breaths and tears prickled at the corners of her eyes.

It couldn’t be happening again. But it was. Y/n confirmed it when she saw the amount of blood that had pooled under her, a minuscule silhouette in violent contrast with the pearly white tiles. She couldn’t handle it then and let out a pained sob at the sight. Her legs trembled and she let herself fall to the cold hard floor. She could hear the violent thud her contact with the floor caused ringing through the bathroom’s walls as she rested her head against the tub and began sobbing silently. Suddenly the pain that woke her up, the one that she had to buffer out mere seconds ago felt like nothing. She wanted it to hurt more so it matched what the sight of the blood caused her to feel.

She then heard an array of hurried footsteps that stopped for a second in front of the door. Three soft knocks ran through the bathroom followed by Tommy’s voice calling Y/n’s name. Y/n couldn’t answer. She didn’t want to be alone, but at the same time she didn’t want anyone else to see.

“I’m coming in, Y/n” Tommy’s voice ran again and Y/n realized she didn’t want to be alone when she didn’t protest against it, not even when he gave her a few seconds to do so before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

He was by Y/n’s side in a trice. Color drained from his cheeks when he saw the blood before he crouched next to her and began rubbing her back soothingly with one hand as the other one went to the bathtub faucet.

“It won’t be necessary, love” she remembered telling him when he suggested for his aunt to go and stay with her when he left to London on a business trip a week ago “I have a good feeling about this one and I think it’s a boy”. She remembered the feeling that erupted inside her when he came back and nothing bad had happened, foolishly thinking that if nothing had happened by then nothing could happen at all.

The recollection caused her sobs to become louder, composing the most harrowing melody with the sound of the hot water filling the bathtub.

“Let it all out, Love” Tommy suggested before engulfing Y/n in a hug, his hand still rubbing circles on her back.

Y/n sank into his embrace and clung to him as if she was clinging to dear life. Her tears soaking through tommy’s cotton shirt until he felt his skin damp broke his heart. But instead of crying he continued to hold Y/n, telling her how much he loved her until the bath was full. He then helped her up, out of her stained silk night gown and into the warm water. After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he grabbed a towel and carefully picked up the promise that laid on the floor as if it was made of glass before leaving the bathroom with it in hands.

By then Y/n felt she had no more tears. Her face and throat ached. But a few more tears did roll down her face when she began scrubbing the blood from her inner thighs.

After that everything became blurry, her head airy and nauseous. Brief flashes of Tommy joining her in the bath, then carrying her to another room. Frances taking with her the bloody sheets, a doctor shaking his head sorrowfully at a mournful looking Tommy, a young toddler with her hair and tommy’s eyes, laughing, Tommy crying at the end of the bed and then darkness.

She woke up the next day with a headache, Tommy was sitting at the end of the bed and immediately turned to look at her when she stirred. Again he was by her side in a trice, taking her hand in his, looking at her with bloodshot eyes into her puffy ones.

“I’m so sorry, love” Y/n croaked out, her voice raspy, traces of the unfortunate previous night evident in it.

Tommy quickly hushed her “ey, It’s not your fault”

Y/n’s eyes began watering again “But I was so sure”

“I know” he said, his own voice breaking as he got in bed next to her

“we can try again” he murmured into her ear as he pulled her closer to him.

“I don’t know if I can take it, Tom. A bit of me dies each time” she mumbled burying herself into his chest. “I don’t think I can have children”

“it’s alright, love” he whispered pressing a kiss to her forehead “I’ve got you”

“Can we buy delphiniums?” she remembered asking him just before she fell into a deep slumber and out of consciousness, she did so for two days. Tommy only woke her up sporadically when she needed to take the tablets the doctor had prescribed.

On the third day, she woke up with Tommy’s arms around her, she took a minute to observe his face, even as he slept he looked restless. She didn’t want to wake him, but she couldn’t bear to be in bed a minute longer. Her whole body felt sore as she carefully got out of his grasp and attempted to get up, but as soon as her feet hit the hardwood floors it seemed like she forgot how to walk. Her body screaming at her for even attempting. The sigh that escaped her lips at her effort, as small and quiet as it was, arouse Tommy.

“Don’t get up, love” he said in a worried raspy morning voice getting up and walking around the bed so he was in front of her “what do you need?”

“I can’t bear to be in this bed any longer, Tommy” she sniffed.

“Where do you want to go?” he said in a tender voice accepting her unwillingness to stay in bed.

“Can you take me to the garden?”

Color drained from Tommy’s face once again before he nodded softly and helped Y/n down the stairs after making a detour to the nursery to get a small ornate wooden box.

The morning air was crisp, uncharacteristic of a July morning. Y/n wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. It felt like a million of tiny cold hands soothing her warm taut skin. She stood for a moment just taking it in, the small box in her hands as Tommy went to get a shovel. The ghost of a smile painted her lips when she saw him walking back towards her, with the shovel in one hand and a delphinium plant on the other.

The pair then walked to a secluded part of their garden that most visitors didn’t get to see. After helping Y/n kneel down on the grass, Tommy began digging a hole next to the other two plants that lived in that part of their garden. A yellow rose and a lavender. Y/n’s fingers began tracing the carvings of the wooden box as she watched her husband dig. She could swear a few tears fell into the dirt before he turned to her telling her it was deep enough.

Together they set the box, in the bottom before putting the delphinium plant on top and covering it up with dirt. Y/n never minded the feeling of dirt on her hands, but she was tired of burying ghostly promises. They sat in front of it for a while until hunger called them to the kitchen where Tommy prepared some mint tea.

Months passed turning grieving weeks into days and then just moments. By then Tommy had familiarized himself with the things that transported Y/n to that dreadful night and avoided them as much as possible just like she had done with the ones that did the same to him.

Y/n for instance couldn't bare to wear white nightgowns to sleep anymore and Tommy couldn't stand the smell of mint tea.

One December afternoon as Y/n was visiting one of the orphanages the Shelby’s funded, to see if everything was running smoothly, she found a small toy horse on a small bed next to the window. She picked it up and as she observed it carefully she remembered when she walked into the nursery to find Tommy crying a few months’ prior, a small horse just like the one Y/n just had found, clutched tightly in his hands. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, it was the first time she saw him crying after that dreadful July night.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Y/n turned around with a jump and saw a small girl dressed in a yellow dress. Her hair was just as curly as Y/n's and her eyes were as pulchritudinous as Tommy’s as she looked at Y/n with a curious gaze.

“Yeah” Y/n smiled wiping her tears “is this yours?” she then asked looking at the girl as she handed her the horse.

“Yes, Her name is Rose!”

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @lilymurphy03 @slytherinicequeen

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby one shot #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinder x reader #peaky blinder one shot #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder angst #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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doueverwonder · 2 years ago

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Did I edit this quickly after work? Yes. Is it proof read? No. Is it only in existence on the Internet again because of @senditothemoonn ? Yep. Enjoy.

This is only part one I'll try to get chapter 2 out soon

Scotland - Alistair France - Colette USA (or 13 colonies here) - Mackenzie Canada (or New France) - Malcolm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alistair sat down, it was hot out and the humidity was absolutely unrelenting making it even more miserable. He had sent the boys he had hired to help him home, they had finished the frame of the house and he decided to continue working today by himself.

The house was simple, it was big for what he had lived in back in Scotland. But he knew it would be small for what Colette was used to in France. They had agreed anything was better than the two room they had been renting; that didn't mean he didn't want it to be nice though. His and Colette's boys would be growing up here if all went as planned, they were only about six months physically and with Malcolm already starting to crawl everything was seeming smaller.

Alistair stood up walking around the perimeter of the house examining everything closely. He had built his house back in Scotland completely by himself, that one was much smaller though and had been easy to put together as all he needed space for was himself and his dogs. Now there would be four people, including, as said, two boys that wouldn't be little babies forever. To help put everything together he had hired some teenage boys who were willing to help for a few hours a day for close to nothing. But, that also meant both of them had no prior building experience, so he had to inspect everything to make sure nothing had been botched.

"Alistair?" He looked over, to where the voice had come from. Walking around the side of the house to the technical front he saw Colette with the boys. She smiled as she saw him, "There you are, mon cheri! I thought for a moment you had went home and we missed you"

"Nope, still here" Alistair went over to his girlfriend, immediately taking the boys from her. "What are you doing here?"

"We brought you lunch" She held up a basket, "Well, we brought you and I lunch, so we could eat together"

They sat down beneath the shade of a tree, Alistair set Malcolm and Mackenzie down.

"Chéri, should they be-" Colette started sounding worried,

"Mo leannan, you know just as well as I do a little dirt won't hurt them" After a moment of pouting Colette conceded that he was right, she–they both for that matter–had probably been left in much worse conditions when they were small children. There was a comfortable silence as they ate and watched their sons; it was one of those days where it seemed too hot to do much else but sit around.

Alistair knew that with the house he had been gone much more often, even if they had only been actually putting the house up for a few days now there had been many things to do before. Not even a month prior the clearing they were sitting in hadn't existed, chopping down trees and pulling up stumps took longer than building the house might. Colette had been spending a fair amount of time with the governors of New France knowing it was her best bet as an excuse for her government for why she had been here so long.

That meant leaving the boys with neighbors a lot, neither of them liked it. Especially with how hard they were trying to keep Malcolm and Mackenzie secret from well... all of Europe. Colette insisted the French government didn't need to know she had a personification for the colony; and Alistair knew that technically the colonies Mackenzie personified were his brothers. Edmund could have a legitimate claim on his child, or at least input on how he was raised. There had been discussions on who they could tell, Colette considering telling her younger sister Lucilla: and Alistair liked to believe that Dylan and Molly wouldn't tell anyone. But in the end they couldn't be too sure, and risking it wasn't even a question.

"How much longer do you think the house will take?" Colette asked, leaning against her boyfriend,

"A few weeks," Alistair put his arm around her. "Depends on if the weather holds though"

"Which with our luck, it won't" she teased him, they hadn't considered anything but staying here until the boys were grown. And it was nice, the silence of the small settlements contrasting with the busy city lives they lead back in Europe. Out here they almost didn't exist as France and Scotland, they existed as Colette and Alistair; who had two sons, and a half-finished house.

#aph france #hws france #aph nyo!france #hws nyo!france #plays my 'ship playlist' while editing this #it's just a playlist with all of my favorite love songs <3 #hetalia #aph scotland #hws scotland #aph america #hws america #aph canada #hws canada #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #@senditothemoonn #scotfra

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hoonhrt · 4 years ago

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EMBRASSE-MOI

: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader

: genre — fluff, crack

: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne

: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!!

Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons.

“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already.

“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.

“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right?

“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this

Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust.

“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath.

“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing.

“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you.

You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil.

“Okay, so how much french do you even know?”

He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows.

“THAT’S IT?”

“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time.

“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet.

“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.

“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding.

“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more.

“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face.

A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you.

042-002-1130: bonjour

042-002-1130: was that even right

042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig

042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right

042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius

You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm.

Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand.

“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips.

“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.”

“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you.

“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up.

The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him.

He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this.

“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?)

You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it.

“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently.

“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!)

“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.

His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.

“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap.

“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought.

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chocominnie · 3 years ago

Text

One Last Time 02 — Pjm. (M)

⇢ pairing: Jimin X Reader

⇢ Genre: Idol!Jimin, Exbf!Jimin, model!reader, sad au, fluff, tons of smut, angst

⇢ Synopsis: Your idol ex boyfriend Jimin cheated on you. You two have been broken up for a while now and the media has been keeping track of you and him. You’re trying to get over him, but the things that happen inbetween makes you re-think the entire breakup, and so does Jimin…

⇢ Song : xxxxx

⇢ Previous : 00 01

⇢ Word Count :

⇢ Warnings: dominant jimin, makeout sessions, this is honestly a sad angsty au, cheating, pregnancy, unprotected and protected sex, a bunch of sex, no really a LOT of sexual themes too, I know I’m forgetting some but sorry in advance!

⇢ Copyright: please do NOT repost, translate, or modify my works in any way, shape or form, on any platform. If found doing so , it is considered as plagiarism and appropriate LEGAL action will be taken

⇢ Authors note: This is my mini series for the summer! Get your tissues, things to take your anger out on, and sit back and watch the drama unfold. Shall we begin?

Your eyes shoot open, chest heaving heavily as you let out a blood curdling scream. Not this again. The same dream over and over again each night. It leaves you sleepless. The time on the clock on your nightstand reads 3:04 am. Just only four hours ago is when you fell asleep. But a full night’s sleep hasn’t happened for a year so why would it matter anyways.

Once you catch your breath you unplug your phone from the charger and read some of the notifications. From your window, the night-time critters sing their songs along with the persistant owl that’s somewhere around the apartment complex. You’d only noticed him, the owl, just a few months ago when your cat started meowing with his hoots.

A missed call from your uncle.

Immediately you unlock your phone and dial the number. Bringing your index finger to your mouth you gently nip on it waiting for it to answer, The rings are agonizing to you. If something has happened you only wish and pray it wasn’t as bad as you think. He’s the only parental figure left in your life.

‘‘ Princess! Hello I was just calling to speak to you earlier. But I realized you are five hours ahead of me and you had probably went to sleep.’‘

His soothing voice calms your emotions making you let out a tiny breath of air. Thank god.

‘’Hey Charlie.” You sigh. Looking towards your left, you spot Clara purring quietly next to you. You can’t help but to smile while bringing a hand over to rub her head with your thumb. She’s so small under the shining moonlight from your window.

Her white coat shines brightly amongst her, making you remember the first night you had brought her home. All she did was sleep, and it worried you because you had no prior expierence caring for anything, let alone a small animal. Clara only drank kitten milk and slept back then. Occasionally being awake enough to nip at your fingers whenever you pet or touched her.

Now she’s a bit bigger and walks around the apartment like she owns the place. Quite the little attitude she has, but its too damn cute for you to scold her whenever she does something wrong.

“ Yes I did fall asleep from after a gathering at someone’s house.’’ You continue on, bringing your knees to your chest after opening the curtain of your window fully.

The moons brightness illuminates the entire room, but not so bright for you to complain though. ‘’ Oh- was it Jimin’s? Tell him I said hell-’’

You bite your lip hard at his name. He doesn’t know and you wont even dare to let him know. Knowing him, your uncle would have a fit and oppose to come back to Seoul to ‘set the record straight.’ to Jimin. That’s the last thing you want to do, cause trouble.

‘‘ It was his brother’s house warming party.” You say, lowering your tone in your voice. You look at the nightstand for a couple of seconds just before opening the top drawer of the wooden, polished piece. Your hands shakily pull out a picture of you two together.

It was taken at Marne-la-Vallée, France right infront of Cinderella’s castle. That was the day that you and Jimin had to went to Disneyland in Paris, France. You cant help but to think, with the picture in hand, that it was one of the best nights ever. It was also the same night your virginity was taken.

‘‘ Oh.. I know that tone. Are you two arguing at the moment.”

You shrug, “ I mean you could say that.’’

No you cant.

‘‘ Alright alright I won’t talk more of him. Let’s change the subject.” He chuckles deeply into the phone.

‘‘ How’s Europe? Anything new happening on base?”

‘‘ Same old Same old. It’s been what? 2 years since I’ve left Seoul? The food is different over here. They don’t have kimchi pancakes sadly.”

You can only imagine the frowny face he makes at you whenever he doesn’t approve or like something. It always turns out to be funny.

You giggle into the phone shaking your head slightly, “ Of course. You are in Europe Charlie. Where are you getting food from anyway if you are on base?’’

‘‘ I can go off base to a certain mileage when I am off duty. I just have to report back in time. But you do know that you can always come live on base with me...’ He trails off.

Oh boy. Here he goes. He’s always talking about moving you on base with him. Hell, he’s been talking about it since before he had to go to be based in Europe. By then you were twenty years old and old enough to live by yourself. Growing up in Daegu, Korea since you were six, you felt as if Korea was home to you and you definately weren’t ready to leave yet.

Especially, after losing your parents here. Around eight years old, your aunt and mother were on the way to pick up your father from the airport. With your mom and dad also being military and based in Korea with your dad’s bestfriend, your uncle Charlie, your father had been called to take military leave to go and be based in Korea for the National Guard.

On the way back from the airport, a drunk driver had struck the car knocking them off the road and colliding head first into the railing of the bridge. All bodies were reported dead upon collision, including your aunt. Charlie didn’t take the news well at all, and so did you. Only eight years old and still a bit new to a foreign country. It was devistating for you and Charlie. Charlie did what was right and stepped up to be your legal guardian while taking some time off from the military. Till this day, he treats you like his sacred little daughter and you can’t ask for anyone better than him.

“You are old enough to live on your own and housing is avail-”

You jump at his voice on the line again, being too spaced out from the tragic memory. Before he can go on any longer you cut him off. ‘‘ Im fine with the apartment you left me. Im paying the bills on time and taking good care of it.”

‘‘ Alright fine. But that option is always available you hear me? I will always be ready for you to come with me.’’

‘‘ Okay Charlie” You groan.

‘‘ Alright.. sweetie it’s getting late on this side and it’s already 3 am on your side. Get some sleep okay? Don’t you have a model shoot thingy or something? You have those a lot.’‘

‘‘ Yes i actually do in a couple of hours. It’s been a while since I’ve did a shoot. Please eat and sleep well. Don’t injure yourself.’‘

‘‘ I promise. You promise to do the same right?’‘ He says, rustling movements are in the background.

‘‘ Yes I promise. Good night sleep tight..’‘ You smile as you wait for him to finish the rest.

He chuckles one last time on the other end, ‘‘I’ll always love you, goodnight‘’

Beep Beep Beep

You in a racy light pink lingerie with white duvets and sheets is the concept of your comeback. It’s supposed to symbolize the “Night After’’. Camera’s click and directors yell and praise you in your subtle yet damaging moves and facial expressions. You want.. no need for this comeback to be successful. Not only did your manager schedule this, but she is making sure that they release this same very day.

Nobody in this company’s industry has ever did this before. But you, you are sort of the special one. The special foreigner as they say. It’s not like you don’t like it but you don’t like that they label you as that. Stylists, employee’s hell even anybody who works there treat you as a princess. It’s not bad, but it’s just weird.

‘‘ One last one. Give me a sexy yet innocent look mama.’‘ Elliot, the director says, smiling wide at you.

You slip a finger into your mouth and do a little pout with your lips.

Elliot busts out into a roar of happiness with his hands clapping furiously. ‘‘That’s it mama yes! That’s just what we needed!’‘

Adjusting his microphone earpiece, he turns around to greet and thank everyone, ‘‘ Alright everybody this concludes our shooting! You all worked so hard today. Make it home safe, eat well.’‘

Finally. You sigh out in relief and close your eyes. It’s been a long day. Almost 6 hours of shooting. Three Videos, and five swap outfits for each session of shooting for the ‘’ Night After’’. As everyone heads out and starts cleaning up you bow your head slightly and thank them.

A stylist brings you a satin robe to cover yourself in. You thank her and put it on just before getting up from the bed and walking towards wardrobe. Once you are done putting on your clothes, your manager leads you straight out the exit. Outside awaits the car that drives you everywhere. Literally everywhere.

‘‘ Tomorrow somebody has put in a special request for you to appear as the main lead girl in their music video. It’s short notice and I told them I would have to bump some things around and notify you. But they are paying us and you good money to be in it.’‘

Money? Sounds like a plan.

‘‘ It’s fine. Who am I shooting for?’‘ You say, fluffing your hair just a little while inspecting yourself in the rear view mirror.

Your makeup is still intact with no ruins and the contacts they had given you suited you very well. A hazel with a slight bit of teal. Suddenly the car moves off into the busy streets of Seoul. You can’t help but to notice every couple that walks along the sidewalks. They seem so happy, glad to be around each other.

On the floor of the car lies your little mini backpack filled with all of your items and belongings. Picking it up, you begin to dig through it looking for some hand lotion to soothe your semi-dry hands. Once you find it you gently start to squeeze the tube.

‘‘ Kim Namjoon.’‘

You freeze. Namjoon? The same Namjoon from the group? Joonie? It’s been well… a year since you’ve seen him in person. Hell since you’ve seen all of Bangtan Sonyeondan together. Except for lastnight when Hoseok and.. that guy showed up.

You sigh already knowing the answer from the question you are about to ask.

‘‘ From…?’‘ You ask then put the lotion back in your bag. Slowly you rub your hands together to moisturize.

Your manager quickly flips through the daily planner, ‘‘ Bangtan Sonyeodan but this is for one of his mixtape songs.’‘

Thank goodness.

‘‘ That’s fine. What time will the car be arriving tomorrow?’‘

‘‘ 8 am on the dot. You need to be there by 8:30. I’ll be tending to one of my other models tomorrow so you will be alone. I can send som-’‘

‘‘ No no it’s truly okay. I know how to manage things myself. Besides, I learn from you.’‘ You reassure her with one of your winning smiles, laying your head on her shoulder.

‘‘ Aigoo what am I going to do with you?’‘

The day ends very well. The movies you’ve been watching have kept you occupied. But not occupied enough for you to keep crying at all the sad parts in the chick flicks. Breakups, someone had died, someone had even just spilled something onto the floor and that was enough to send you into tears.Only because when the main lead boy rushed to help clean it up, it reminded you of Jimin last-night helping Isabel.

‘’What is going on with myself.’’ You blow your nose into a tissue for what seemed like the thousandth time today. Clara lets out one of her meows beside you then goes back to grooming herself.

You place her onto your lap and begin to run your fingers through her fur over and over again. Such a soothing effect to you as you stare into space sulking in your thoughts.

Why is it that you weren’t enough for him? Why is it that every single little thing reminds you of him? You gave him your all and he gave you his but what happened? Where did you go wrong? Cooked, cleaned, satisfied his needs. You guys had even started to plan out what you wanted out of a family. When you wanted a baby and what you would name it. It was fun. The whole relationship was fun. Right until that scandal.

Ding.. Ding.. Ding.. DI-

You unlock your phone immediately to stop that annoying dinging noise. Not surprisingly it’s a text from Jeon Jungkook.

Kookie : Im coming over I’ll be there in exactly 3 minutes.

Kookie: Don’t think about leaving either.

Kookie: Im bringing someone with me.

Kookie: We need to have a serious talk babycheeks.

You roll your eyes at the nickname he’s given you. No matter how many times you tell him you want him to change it, he declines. There’s no point in asking anymore.

Why would he want to talk anyways and who is the person he’s bringing. Eh.. it might just be Ryan they seem to do everything together as a team.

As soon as you step foot out of your bed the sound the door clicking makes your head shoot up. How in the living hell does he know the password to your house? Rage takes over you. That’s something that you hate. When people invade your personal space. In this case, personal home.

‘‘ Jeon fucking Jungkook!’‘ You scream, abruptly stomping your feet all the way to and out your bedroom door. Suddenly you stop at the sight of the two faces staring back at you.

Jungkook’s expression holds a concerned yet upset face while the other just stands there calm and cool. But you on the other hand are way besides that level.

Your eyes must be filled with rage and the expression on your face is no good. How dare he disrespect you like that? Bringing him into your home, knowing the bad blood between you two. Oh, they both have something coming towards them. You begin to walk to them again making each step make the floor shake.

‘‘ Get out. Both of you. One you invade my personal private home..’‘

You grab both boys by their collars, making sure to grip the one on the right’s harder than usual. ‘‘ Two, you fucking invite him over here.’‘ You drag each of them towards the exit. Which is going good until Jungkook rips your hands away from his shirt and takes you over his shoulder.

You’ve had enough of him and his invasive ways. Pounding on his back with your fists, you make sure to scream into his ear. “ Put me the fuck down Jeon Jungko-”

You hiss at the stinging sensation on your ass. Did he just? Jimin stands there awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. You make sure to make eye contact with him and roll your eyes. Something that always had and will piss him off.

‘‘ Hush. I told you all of us needed to have a deep talk about you.’‘

Jungkook plops your frail body onto one side of the couch in which he sits next to you. He motions for Jimin to come sit across from the both of you but you aren’t having it.

‘‘ Don’t you do it.” You glare at him. Jungkook sighs harshly only to pluck your forehead two times. You whine and rub it with your index and middle finger.

Jungkook shakes his head in disapproval, ‘‘ When are you ever going to learn? Jimin sit down now.”

‘‘ Truthfully.. I feel as though I shouldn’t be here so-”

“ Good. Get out you are unwanted.” You snap back causing him to give you one of his long stares with no facial expression at all.

Jungkook glares at you just before getting up to throw his hands in the air full of disappointment. “ Enough! “

Yelling. Something else you don’t like to hear being done at yourself. You finally sit still and quite avoiding any eye contact with the both of them.

He sits back down and clears his throat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look before continuing on.

‘‘ I gathered us here to talk about you..”

‘‘ Why. Im fine. How many times do I have to say it. Im fine im fine im fine im fucking fine!’‘ You exclaim, getting more mad by the second. When will people accept this?

‘‘ Baby.. ’‘

Your eyes shoot up to him and his soft voice. You didn’t want to but you did because his voice to you is like candy that melts into your mouth.

‘‘ Don’t call me that. You have a girlfriend at-least be loyal to her rather than what you did to me.’‘

‘‘ Fuck is anybody going to just sit here and listen? Can we at-least get to the source of the problem? Huh?’‘ Jungkook leans back into the couch clearly pissed by your attitude.

Jimin’s the first to speak and holds a firm eye contact with you, almost daring you to break away from it.

‘‘ Fine. Im just going to cut straight to it then. Why are you so jealous? You aren’t okay at all. I seen the way you looked at us yesterday. You wanted to break down so bad but you didn’t. It looks like you’ve been dropping weight day by day why aren’t you eating well?’’

You’re taken a-back by his jealous comment. Although you are you just cannot admit it. You are jealous. You do want him back. You cant bear to see him with another girl but you. But the fact that Jimin is concerned makes you really hope. Just hope that there is something left of you still in his heart.

‘‘ Jealous? Jealous tuh.” You scoff, leaning into Jungkook’s arms where you rest his head on your chest. You only do this just to see Jimin’s reaction and by the look on his face he doesn’t enjoy that move one bit.

‘‘ Yes jealous. I mean why else would you put almond extra-

‘‘ Woah. No need to go there. We established that it was a so called accident lastnight.” Jungkook does finger quotes into the air and looks down at you.

You lift your head up and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance, “ So called? So you really believe that I did it on purpose. Wow Jungkook. Escort yourself out.’’

He sighs, wrapping his arms around you securly in hopes of you settling down a little, “ Honestly it’s not like that. I wasn’t there to see you bake them nor was I watching her eat it. Im just saying that you knew Jimin was coming and obviously his girlfriend was going to come too. It’s a little sketchy is all.”

There’s no fixing what he said. Him adding onto his explanation just made things sound worse than what he’s trying to say. You don’t have time to be ganged up on, nor like it at all. It’s best if they both just leave, to not turn nothing into something.

‘‘ Get out. Now. Before I call and tell Ryan what you said and then she’ll definitely deal with you.’‘ You say, removing yourself from off of him and onto the other side of the couch with your legs crossed.

Mad isn’t even the word to describe yourself right now. You’re just a mixture of all emotions.

Jungkook now looks of sorriness written all over his face. You bite your lip and shake your head while pointing towards the door. He sighs heavily and takes one last look at you while removing himself from the couch. You watch him slip on his coat and shoes.

Jimin gets up from his spot on the couch, ‘‘ I’ll be leav-”

‘‘ Sit down we aren’t done talking.”

He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed, sitting back down slowly.

Jungkook keeps his head down as he wraps his blue scarf around his neck. Poor baby, but he shouldn’t of said it. “Please better yourself and talk it out with each-other. Im leaving.”

‘‘ Make it home safely.. Kookie.” You sigh once the door closes behind him. Now you’re here. Face to face with Park Jimin.

The same Jimin who cheated on you. The same Jimin you haven’t seen in a while. You take a few moments to take in his appearance. He seems to have re-gained his muscles that are peaking through his black, longsleeve shirt. His thighs are still thick, just like his luscious lips. Of course he changed his hair color to black. But who knows, he might change it again.

‘‘ You’ve been doing well?’‘ You say, voice low but enough for him to hear. You drop your eyes to your lap instead of keeping intact with his.

‘‘ Yes. But you have not. Im disappointed in you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Don’t do this because of me.”

‘‘ Jimin you don’t know the feeling. You don’t know how it feels to be left wondering why you weren’t good enough for someone. Why they had cheated on you. You don’t understand at all and wont ever.’‘ Your voice cracks on the last sentence and you an feel the lump in your throat become sore.

He bites his lip unsure of what to say next. Those words had hit him good inside. ‘‘ Im sorry. I truly am. But you know the reason why we had to end it. I fucked up bad and the media was making the scandal bigger and messier day by day. It was better to just call it off.’‘

One by one your tears start to drop. You nose begins it’s running trip but you sniffle it back up.

‘‘ You could of denied it. You know you could of made a statement and denied it. But you felt something for her didn’t you? Didn’t you?’‘ You semi-yell, sobs already starting to take it’s way over.

He bites his lip once again and ruffles his fingers through his hair, “ Baby..’’

You wipe your tears with your hands making your face even more puffy from the crying. “ I am jealous. I am I admit it Jimin. But do you know i have been suffering for one year and two months? I can’t sleep at night because im so used to your touch at night. I look at every couple in Seoul and think to myself, Dang they seem so happy. What’s their secret?’’

Jimin sits up, making eye contact with you with tears welling up into his eyes. It hurt’s you more than yourself to see him crying. It always has.

‘‘ Please don’t do that. Don’t do this to yourself. Please get help from someone to try and move on. Please. I don’t like to see or hear you make yourself suffer.’ He begs, getting up from his seat and coming towards you.

Jimin sits next to you, hesitantly opening his arms up to you. Would it be wrong to embrace him? He’s being too sincere, but thats what you want right? You decide to just do it, and lean into him only for him to pull you in closer into his chest.You just lay there crying and sobbing while he runs his fingers through your hair. You shouldn’t be doing this. He has a girlfriend. But it feels so right.

‘‘ What does she have that I don’t? Why couldn’t you love me the same way you love her “ You cry into his chest, soaking his shirt with your tears.

You’d been waiting for this moment to just let it out. Let everything out.

‘’ Please don’t make this harder than what it is right now. Just try and forget me and move on. Please.” Hypocritcal. How does he expect you to get over him when he’s the one whos holding you so tight right now. Soon enough his sniffles join yours in harmony.

You raise your head up and look him deep into the eyes while you wipe away his tears, “ Don’t cry Jimin. I’m the one supposed to be crying over you. Don’t cry.’’

He takes your hand away from his face and wraps his fist ontop of yours, “Please promise me you will move on okay?’’

You shake your head no, “ I can’t make that promise.”

He doesn’t say anything. He gently cradles you in his arms and lifts you up. You don’t think to where he is going. You just close your eyes and grab onto his shirt firmly not wanting to let go.

Soon enough you feel the cold sheets over your bed. He covers you in the duvet and leans down to your forehead. A kiss. Your fist is still locked onto his shirt in which he tries to pry it away but you don’t want to let him go. He sighs and raises his arms up as he takes off the shirt revealing an extra plain white wife beater under it. Taking your other hand, he wraps your hand into another fist onto the shirt to where both of your hands are holding onto it.

‘‘ Please better yourself for me baby. Sleep and eat well. “

Is all he says before turning off the lights and walking out your bedroom door. You can hear him putting on and zipping up his heavy coat but you just don’t make a sound.

The apartment door clicks and beeps letting you know he’s already gone.

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