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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

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You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 2)

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

For @thatesqcrush’s Naughty or Nice Holiday Bingo! Filling the Fake Relationship When Visiting Family square.

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: Language. Holiday fluff. Bryan being the worst... but also hot? Horrible pet names. Nothing nsfw happens this chapter except Bryan’s mouth.

2,900 words

The bluish LED headlights of Bryan Kneef’s BMW blinded other drivers as they cut through the dark on the drive to his parents’ suburban house. You ascertained from the hands-free call he was making the family hadn’t started dinner yet. Christmas was close to the winter solstice, so it wasn’t as late as the sky suggested, although you’d heard a hungry child screaming impatiently about having to wait for Uncle Bry.

“Uncle Bry,” you teased as the call ended.

He chuckled. “That would be my brother’s kid, Finn. My brother’s name is Timothy. The CEO of LogicFinance. You will say you’ve ‘heard so much about them.’ Let’s review.”

“Jesus.”

Sitting next to Bryan while his attention wasn’t on you, you lost yourself noticing things. The clean smell of his cologne. How sexy he looked—in a rich douchey way—in his tailored suit and expensive car. His long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. That beard that made you want to scream, “Daddy!”

You could almost forget he was the asshole who held every paralegal at STR Laurie hostage with busywork unless you pretended to be the woman who dumped him.

Until he started barking at you to memorize facts about his life.

“First, what do I have to know about this woman I’m supposed to be?”

He stared straight ahead at the road. “Her name is Sydney. So you’re Syd from now on.”

“Oh joy. Being called your ex’s name all night won’t be weird or anything.”

“You were the one who wanted to get out of work.”

“Whatever. I bet you already forgot my real name, anyway.”

He didn’t contradict you. The engine roared to life as he changed lanes before signaling and cut off the SUV he’d been tailgating for the last mile.

Your arms crossed over your chest. “How much did you tell your family about Sydney? I hope you didn’t send them any pictures.”

“Not much, and obviously not. I’m not stupid.”

“Just pathetic.”

He scowled. Before he could think of a searing response to take back control of the conversation, you asked another question that knocked him off balance.

“What made this one so different? We’ve been working together for what, a year? And I’ve never seen you upset over a breakup.”

“The sex was fantastic,” he answered too loudly.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve never had a woman who could keep up with me—”

“Because you finish too quickly?”

“Cute. Keep it up.” He stepped on the gas again and your stomach lurched as he pulled off another aggressive passing maneuver in the right lane. “No one walks away from my bed unsatisfied. You could find out. A little reward for helping me out tonight?”

“Not in a million years,” you clipped, shutting him down, even though your wild, lonely, horny side that noticed his beard and fingers was beating at the inside of your skull. “You are going to keep it decent and chaste. Ground rules: holding hands. Kisses on the cheek. Moderate cuddling as the situation calls for it. That should be plenty to sell that we’re involved.”

“You haven’t seen me around women I’m involved with,” he smirked with a suggestive glint in the side of his eye.

“And I’m sure your parents haven’t seen you with a partner who isn’t just some bimbo you’re screwing, either. Cop a feel, and I end the charade right there.”

That comment, which was more insightful than you knew, silenced him. His suggestive side-glance returned forward to focus on the road. That look was back on his face again—the look when he ran out of swaggering bullshit to spew. Sadness. Genuine human sadness.

“She wasn’t clingy,” he said, voice a soft rumble. “Didn’t expect me to be her fucking boyfriend—she was the one who told me no strings.”

“You loved her because she was distant?”

“No. I don’t know. She did nice things, too—like ask how my day was, and bring me coffee. She remembered the way I like it.”

“That’s just basic human kindness, Bryan.” You sighed. “That’s actually… really sad.”

“Fuck you.”

“I mean it. You call women clingy for wanting to be close to you, and now you’re so starved for connection you think remembering your coffee order is a huge deal. Your secretary knows your coffee order. Hell, I know your damned coffee order you’ve sent me out for it enough times, even though—as I often remind you—that’s not my job. I’m sorry. Really. But maybe this is a lesson? That you actually have a heart and might want to try opening it sometime?”

“How the fuck is that the lesson? I open my heart, I get hurt. From now on, I’m only dating broads who disgust me.” His eyes lingered on you for a dangerously long time until you got the point and gave an annoyed grunt. His eyes returned to the road, corners crinkled in satisfaction.

***

Dinner was already starting when Bryan’s BMW finally pulled into the driveway of a large house on a private cul-de-sac. The porch was glowing with tasteful white lights and a wreath on the door. Silhouettes were moving behind the decorative glass set into the front door, waiting for you to get out of the car. As soon as you approached, the door flew open and you were hit with the smell of roast turkey.

“Bry-Bry! We were worried you wouldn’t make it!” His silver-haired mother threw her arms around Bryan’s neck while he grumbled with reluctant affection, hugging her back.

A rich oaken voice of the man who must have been his father said, “And this must be the famous Sydney. We thought we’d never get to meet you.” He shook your hand warmly.

Both of them were wearing hideous red and green Christmas sweaters straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“I can’t believe this one hasn’t driven you away!” Bryan’s mom teased, pinching his pink cheek as she did so. “We’re so happy you put up with our little monster.” She hugged you.

“Come, come on in. Let me take your coat. We were just starting dinner—you’re right on time.” His dad helped you shrug your winter coat off and hung it up in the entryway closet for you.

This was… bizarre. How the hell did people this friendly churn out a Bryan?

More shocking still was when you felt warm, long fingers twine between yours, and you nearly tore your hand away before remembering you had a “boyfriend” tonight. Bryan smiled at you sweetly, eyes soft and affectionate.

Yep. You’d fallen into some kind of Bizarro World.

Martha, his mother, led you both through the spacious house toward the dining room. “What do you think of our humble home?” she asked, pausing in the living room. “I keep thinking I should move that chair to the other side of the fireplace. What do you think? Would it flow better?”

“Uh, I’m not really—”

“Mom! We’re hungry,” Bryan snapped.

“Oh, come on, honey, let me pick her brain! It’s not every day we have an interior designer in here.”

“Bryan told you I’m an interior designer?” Your mouth smiled pleasantly at Bryan while your eyes stabbed daggers into his stupid handsome face.

“Obviously I forgot I mentioned it,” he smiled back.

You batted your eyes. Now the daggers were on fire.

“Well, what do you think? Chair on the left, or the right?”

“Well,” you said, “the symmetry with the fireplace is… balanced with the rich tones in the leather”—Martha nodded along attentively—“You know, I’ve been working all day, maybe we can talk shop later?”

“Oh! Of course! I’m sorry—Bryan’s mean old mom ambushing you the minute you walk in the door!” She flexed her hand into vampire-claws and playfully attacked your shoulder. “Aw, are the stuffy old adults embarrassing you, peanut?”

Bryan’s cheeks turned the brightest pink you had ever seen them. And this was a man who didn’t blush when telling a roomful of attorneys to go fuck themselves. You let out the first genuine laugh you’d made in his presence. You squeezed his hand.

“Honey-bear, I love your parents!”

***

The table was crowded with Kneef siblings, cousins, and their children and spouses. Finn, you guessed, was the youngest boy. And that would make the silver fox next to him Timothy. His older brother had the same bluntness as Bryan, but none of the cruelty. In fact, his entire family was so… normal.

Bryan’s hard edges were hardly softened in their presence, but unlike in the office where his cranky moods inspired fear, here they were met with boos and hisses and his cousin throwing a bread roll at him. The youngest kids mimicked this exciting behavior, and soon it was raining whole-wheat on Bryan Kneef.

You smiled and patted his hand and called him “dear” and made sure your mouth was full of turkey the moment anyone asked you about yourself.

Over the evening, you learned that Mrs. Martha Kneef put herself through nursing school after having her first child to support the family while her husband piddled around with his low-paying hobby in computers. By the time Bryan was born, his father was programming for a growing company, working his way up the ranks—back in the days when one could do that. By the time Bryan was ten, dad was the Chief Information Officer of one of the largest corporations in the country.

And so Bryan, the youngest, grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, handed all the things his parents had worked hard for in the hopes that he would have a better life.

“All the child-rearing books at the time said encouragement was important,” said Martha, who was a little drunk on red wine at this point. She let out an exasperated groan. “This is what happens when you encourage too much. We created a monster. Didn’t we?” Her voice went higher as she pinched Bryan’s cheek again.

“Martha and I are so happy to see him finally settling down with someone.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage to find a girl who’ll put up with you?” Tim teased, punching Bryan’s arm.

Bryan stared back. Locked eyes with his brother. He took a deep breath. “How’d you manage to—”

Bryan then asked something too obscene to be repeated, which set the entire table screaming, and parents’ hands clamping over children’s ears (though not before an adorable curly-haired niece asked, “mommy, what’s a prolapsed rectum?”).

You should have been offended, or embarrassed to be attached to the guy wrecking Christmas without even needing to be drunk. But oddly, as hot as your cheeks were, you found yourself laughing. You were dating the most interesting guy at the table. He was so overwhelmingly charismatic—not necessarily in a positive way, but in a way that made him the center of attention in any room he walked into. And he was charming enough for people to keep wanting him around, even when he said things that... were probably going to scar those children for life. Not to mention the adults.

Reaching over, you cupped the opposite side of his cheek and forced him to turn his head to you. “You’re so bad, Bry. How do I put up with you?” You began affectionately scratching his beard like it was something you’d done to him a hundred times. “He��s just so cute, I can’t resist. Settle down now, baby.”

His mom gave a loud, “Aww” and Bryan side-eyed his brother, who snorted.

You were getting into it, mussing up his perfect beard in a way that was sure to annoy him later—but it wasn’t annoying him that was on your mind. It was more the feeling of that coarse but soft hair under your fingertips, the shape of his jawline… the way he was staring back at you, eyelids drooping…

“It’s really the beard I’m dating—if he ever shaves, we’re breaking up,” you joked, suddenly needing to crush the romantic mood. It worked. His family laughed, and Bryan scowled, catching your wrist to make you stop.

***

Bryan wanted to leave right after dinner, but his mother wheedled him to stay.

“We’ve still got your bedroom set up if you want to sleep here. Think of it—we could have Christmas morning together just like when you and Timmy were babies!”

“Ma! I couldn’t impose on Syd. She… has a cat.”

Great. More backstory to remember. You surreptitiously elbowed him in the side.

Bryan got his dominating instincts from somewhere, though. The big ask to stay the night was a tactic to make him give in to the smaller ask of staying for hot cocoa and holiday movies.

Bryan had yet to recover from your crack about breaking up with him and forgot to play the part of the affectionate boyfriend. While her husband was explaining the intricacies of a particular wireless security device to whichever cousins would listen, Martha casually sidled up and whispered, “You don’t have to be shy about PDA in front of us old people. We’ve seen everything.”

“Oh! Uh...” Your mouth gaped, unsure how the fuck to respond to that.

Bryan overheard it and rolled his eyes with a groan. “Ma!”

He looked so grumpy and annoyed, something about it made you kiss him on the cheek. Just to put to rest his mother’s suspicions! That must have been it.

Then Bryan was all fire again, his eyes glittering above a wicked smirk. He grabbed your waist and pulled you roughly against his arousingly solid body, covering your neck with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Oh god, hot. He was definitely only doing this to make his mom uncomfortable, and if you knew Bryan, he wouldn’t stop until she regretted meddling or he was fucking you on the stack of presents under the tree. So why was your skin too hot? Why did it prickle everywhere his hand wandered? Palming your curves, sliding down to your hips, lowering over the swell of—

You leaned close until your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Watch your hands, or HR is hearing all about this,” you warned, then pulled away smiling.

Bryan smiled back. “Of course, babycakes.”

“You lovebirds! Keep it PG.”

He warned you in the car that no one would buy him keeping things chaste, didn’t he? Well, you weren’t going to be the one to blow your cover.

When you filed into the living room where the kids were already watching A Christmas Story, there was only one spot left on the couch, and an empty armchair. Bryan flopped down on the recliner, and you sat on his lap. His chest vibrated as he gave an encouraging growl, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“You didn’t expect me to sit alone, did you, honey-bear?” you cooed.

His hand moved to support your hip, cradling you close to him. The other hand covered yours, which was resting on your knee. It was just a performance, but god, his hands were so big and warm, and the gesture so remarkably soft. You let yourself recline back against his chest, and turned your head to inspect his profile—the greying at his temple, a strong, square brow that shaded such lively green eyes.

A fire danced in the fireplace, stockings hung up neatly above it. A tree in the opposite corner filled the room with a piny balsam scent. The whole scene felt so domestic. Bryan’s beard scratched the side of your face, the soft cashmere of the sweater he’d thrown on over his dress shirt making him a comfortable cuddle partner. Suddenly you could imagine perfectly well why someone might put up with him.

“So, Sydney, how did you meet Bryan?” his father asked. A few other prying relatives leaned forward, and you began to sweat.

“Oh… I’m sure Bryan’s already told this story,” you deflected, glancing at him for assistance. Bryan frowned.

“It was through a case.” His evasive answer only made everyone more curious.

“What kind of case?”

“A divorce case.”

A bark of laughter leaped from your throat before you could hold it in, and you had to quickly disguise it as the kind of nostalgic laugh you get from an inside joke. “It’s true”—you stroked Bryan’s beard—“I think he only slept with me as part of the victory, you know? Took my ex’s money, took his wife. You know our Bryan,” you giggled. You would bet money that was exactly how it happened, too. “It’s a major rebound for me. But it’s been working out. Bryan has this whole other side to him that people don’t see.”

He looked at you. The clarity of his green eyes caught you off guard, and you felt a burning heat creeping up the side of your neck toward your ears.

“Well, we’re so happy to meet you!”

“You dog, Bry.”

“Want to see baby pictures?”

The last voice was Martha’s.

“No.” Bryan said. “She doesn’t.”

Of your asshole boss? Why yes. Yes, you did.

“He used to be such a sweet little peanut.” His mother always seemed eager to stir trouble for her brat of a son. “Just wait until you see how cute he was in diapers.”

“No!” Bryan groaned, but couldn’t stop you from following Martha to the family photo albums.

He had no power here.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tagged: @beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @welcometothemadxxhouse / @stardust-fray / @dreila03 / @tropes-and-tales / @the-baby-bookworm / @ireadfanfictionontheweekends

(I also just tagged everyone who commented/reblogged the last chapter even if u didn’t ask so uhhh >_> lmk if you hate that?)

#Bryan Kneef #bryan kneef x reader #Raúl Esparza #raul esparza #thatesqcrush holiday bingo #moodboard #The Good Fight #My writing

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pocket-luv101 · 4 years ago

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First Impressions // Chapter 1

Fandom: Servamp Ship: LawLicht (main), KuroMahi (side), Tetsono (side), Jekuni (side) Characters: Hyde, Licht, Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: After Licht meets the wealthy bachelor, Hyde, she was certain that she could never be friends with him. Their paths continues to cross and she slowly comes to know him. Licht wonders if she judged him too quickly. (LawLicht, Pride and Prejudice AU, Fem Licht)

(Ch.1) //

Licht was immersed in playing her piano. She loved music and she wanted to become a pianist. She understood that it would be difficult for her to be a professional musician due to her gender. Women were taught music and art but there was an expectation that they would perform as a hobby rather than a career. Despite the limitations, Licht was determined to pursue her dreams.

She hoped to provide for her sisters with her passion as well. While her family were respected among high society, they were far from wealthy. Both of her parents were rather frivolous with money. She had four sisters whom she adored and she wanted to give them an easy life. The hardship the sisters faced brought them closer.

“Father, I must speak with you immediately!” Mikuni yelled as she stormed into the drawing room. Licht was confused by her sister’s tone of voice. She rarely heard her be genuinely angry as she was now. While Mikuni would often feign a dramatic personality around strangers, she was truly a composed and intelligent person. “What is this that I’ve found in the study?”

She slammed a piece of paper onto the table in front of their father. Licht was curious what could’ve made her sister so upset and she stopped playing to listen to their conversation. Mikuni stabbed her finger against the words on the paper and Licht thought the table would break beneath her anger.

“Your will states that our house and land will be inherited by the male heir of our family after your death. Must I remind you that you have five daughters and no sons, Father? If you die without a son, the house will be given to our cousin, Haruto, and he will surely evict us. You will be forcing us to be homeless or to rely on the charity of others.” Mikuni took a pen and pressed it into her father’s hand. “I will not leave this spot until you amend this will so the house will be split equally among the five of us.”

“Mikuni, you are being unreasonable. This is a fairly standard will. Women are not permitted to inherit property so I couldn’t include you in my will. You are very intelligent so you should be able to understand the law.” He said and his answer only made her frown deepen. “Your Uncle Toru is very kind. Perhaps he can take you girls in.”

“We grew up in this house and Mikuni should be the one to inherit it.” Licht argued in support of her sister. “She took over the estate’s finances and she’s the only reason we weren’t forced to sell off the house to settle your gambling debt. Mikuni can run the business better than Haruto. He has never stepped foot on our land and doesn’t know it as well as Mikuni.”

The Eves owned a modest animal farm and their main income came from training horses for nobles. When Mikuni was only seventeen, she had decided to help with the family’s business. She had gained the respect of the workers over the past ten years and they saw her as their manager over her father. Despite her efforts to save her family’s home from debtors, she would still lose it.

“You father and I have already discussed the issue, my sweet children.” Their mother said. “There is no need to worry about our financial security after you find husbands. In fact, a wealthy family will be moving into the estate next to ours. The Servamp family has several eligible bachelors and one will be taken with our beautiful Sakura. Perhaps, several will ask for her hand!”

“The town hall will be throwing a public ball to welcome them to the countryside. I shall introduce you to them.” Her father added.

“A ball? We must go into the village and buy me a new dress for the occasion. All the men will fawn over me.” Sakura cheered in excitement and jumped to her feet. She was the youngest sister at nineteen and she was rather spoiled. Licht hoped that her younger sister would mature out of her vain personality with age. “Mikuni, can I borrow money? I already spent my allowance on my new bonnet.”

“Sakura, we cannot afford to buy you a new dress every time you step out of the house. I’m certain that you will find a suitable gown in your closet.” Mikuni told Sakura sternly. She turned to her parents and her backs straightened. “I don’t agree with your plan to marry us off, as though that will solve the issue. I will find a way for the house to stay in our family.”

“You have always been a headstrong woman.” He sighed. “JeJe, make tea for us. It should help calm Mikuni.”

“JeJe, escort me to the stables. I want to oversee Misono’s riding lesson and whether Tetsu is caring for her properly.” Mikuni purposely spoke over her father. JeJe stopped next to her and she placed her hand on the crook of his arm. She began to leave the room with him. She only looked back to her parents to say: “For the sake of my sisters, I wish you a long and healthy life. I want you to know that I’m disappointed by both of you.”

Licht watched Mikuni leave and she debated if she should go after her. She knew her well enough to understand that her sister would prefer to be alone to think. As she closed the lid on her pianoforte, she decided she should find her fifth sister, Mahiru. She didn’t want her to return home to the tense atmosphere and be confused. She could explain the situation to her so she would be prepared at least.

She wrapped a shawl around her and she left the house. Licht thought of the different places her sister could be on the estate and she immediately walked to the stream. They loved to play in the shallow water when they were children and Mahiru still loved the spot. She could trust to find her next to the stream with a sketchbook on her lap.

Licht passed the horse stable and crossed the field to reach the creek that bordered their property. She stared at the grand manor that rested on the other side of the creek. Her mother said the Servamp family would move into the estate in a week. She didn’t agree with her plan to arrange marriages for them. She was a little curious about the family though. Even lost in thought, her feet were familiar with the path and she could walk to the creek easily.

In the distance, she could see her sister. Mahiru sat on a wooden swing that hung from the tree overlooking the lake. She didn’t call out to her immediately because she wanted to play a childish prank on her. She crept behind her sister so she wouldn’t notice her immediately. The moment Mahiru stopped drawing, Licht jumped forward and lightly grabbed her shoulders. “Surprise, Mahiru!”

“Licht?” She gasped and almost fell off the swing. Mahiru placed her feet on the ground and rocked her body back so she was looking up at Licht. “Is it time for lunch already? I was certain that the bell only rang ten times. I’ll start cooking. Is there anything particular you want to eat?”

The sisters would do the chores around the house to help save money. They had to depend on each other while they were growing up. Their father was often gambling and their mother only doted on Sakura. Mikuni’s efforts to save their family home inspired the others to do the same. Licht wanted to become a pianist, Misono helped Mikuni and Mahiru worked with the house’s staff.

“I came to warn you that Mikuni had another fight with father about the family estate. I didn’t want you to be blindsided when you return home.” The swing seat was wide enough for two people so Licht sat next to her sister. She lightly pushed the swing into motion with her feet and Mahiru mirrored her movements. She told her about their father’s will as they swinged slowly.

Mahiru stared at the sketchbook on her lap where she had drawn their house. They had countless memories connected to their home and she couldn’t think of leaving everything behind. “Father is still in good health so we still have time for the will to be changed. Perhaps, the title can be given to Uncle Toru. I trust him not to throw us out. I would prefer if Mikuni was given the house but it’s nearly impossible.”

“By the law of arrogant men, property cannot be owned by property. We are so much more than what they see us as. Women should be provided the same rights as men.” Licht spat. Her anger became a cunning grin and she said: “In the event that the house does fall into Haruto’s hands, we must welcome him with a feast.”

“Extending an olive branch could help us keep the house.” Mahiru nodded. “We can explain to him that it’ll be best for everyone to have Mikuni run the estate.”

“I had planned to poison his wine. We shall keep his death a secret and tell the lawyers that he is simply on a business trip. We can live in our home indefinitely. Though, we will need to find a safe way to dispose of his body.” Licht suggested. Mahiru knew that she was partially joking with her outlandish suggestion and she laughed. She wanted to ease the tense atmosphere with the joke.

“Licht, you must stop reading those gothic novels. They’re quite macabre. Maybe we can get away with your plan because the constable will not suspect women of being so ruthless.” Mahiru stopped the swing and she stared at the garden across the lake. “Do you remember how we would cross the creek to pick the flowers on Hanafield? It’ll be dangerous to sneak into the garden now that it’s being rented.”

“Well, the Servamps won’t be here until next week. We should pick flowers while we still can. No one will notice if a few goes missing.” Licht jumped off the swing and took her sister’s hands. She lightly tugged her off the swing and then pulled her towards the creek. A fallen tree reached over the water and they used it as a bridge.

“We shouldn’t trespass on someone’s property, Licht. We were young when we went to pick flowers from Hanafield’s garden and we didn’t know that they belonged to someone else.” Mahiru followed her sister even though she felt a little concerned. She had always admired how free-spirited Licht was. “We should only pick the wildflowers next to the creek.”

“Alright. But we should collect enough to make flower crowns for Mikuni and Misono and all of the horses in the stables!” Licht decided and Mahiru nodded in agreement.

They reached the end of the fallen tree and Licht held onto her sister’s hand to keep her balance as she stepped down. The wood was slippery but she wasn’t afraid of falling into the creek. Her slippers were flat and allowed her to walk easier than heels. The two sisters didn’t notice the horses grazing on the grass downstream from the log.

“You shouldn’t be trespassing on this land, Ladies. May we escort you back to the village?” A voice behind her caused Licht to turn her head slightly to see who it was. She took her eyes off the ground and she placed her feet on a loose tree branch. She felt herself fall backwards and her stomach dropped. Licht didn’t want to drag her sister into the water as well so she let go of her hand.

Mahiru called her name but her voice was quickly muffled by water. Between the cold water and the impact of the water, Licht was disorientated. She managed to turn herself in the water to see sister reach out to her but someone held her back. The layers of Licht’s dress made it difficult to swim to the surface. Her lungs burned but she knew she couldn’t breathe in as her body screamed for her to.

Suddenly, a warmth surrounded her hand.

Licht was pulled out of the creek and she could finally breathe again. She clung to the creek’s bank and took a moment to collect herself. A hand patted her back and she found it easier to breathe with the light touch. She wasn’t able to thank the person who saved her before Mahiru took her attention. Her sister knelt in front of her and immediately placed a shawl around her wet shoulders.

“Did you hit your head, Licht? Do you feel dizzy? We must take you to the doctor to see if you have a concussion or hurt.” Mahiru insisted. Even though she was the middle sister, she would mother her sisters. “Thank the gods that this gentleman was here to save you. Let me help you out of the water, Licht. Keep the shawl around you.”

Mahiru’s words made Licht realize that her clothes were soaked through. She was grateful that she wore a dark blue dress and it didn’t reveal anything. Licht tied the shawl around her shoulders before she took the hand Mahiru held out to her. She climbed out of the water and looked back into the creek. The man who saved her had his back turned to her and she assumed it was out of politeness.

“Thank you,” Licht said to him. The blond man turned to face her and she thought that he had a handsome face. He had jumped into the water to save her without hesitation so he was likely a kind man.

“We would love to speak with you gentlemen longer but I must take my sister to the doctor. She also needs dry clothes.” Mahiru interrupted them and Licht knew that she was right. They exchanged a polite goodbye as they left. Licht heard water splash behind them and she assumed the man had climbed out of the water. She wondered if she’ll get the chance to thank him for saving her and learn his name.

She grew up in the countryside so she knew most of the residents. Licht didn’t recognize him though. She looked over her shoulder to the blond man. He walked to another man and she recognized that he was the one to stop Mahiru from jumping after her. Their appearances didn’t resemble each other but the way they regarded each other reminded her of siblings.

Then, she overheard their conversation.

“Who do you think they were, Kuro? Their clothes are refined but their manner doesn’t reflect that. Her sister tried to jump into the water. I know she intended to help her sister but she wouldn’t have been able to do much. At least you were there to stop her. Which family do you think they belong to?”

“Hyde, you shouldn’t call her sister— Hyde?” Kuro yelled in shock when a slipper flew past him to strike his brother. His voice was drowned out by Licht’s rage.

“How dare you speak lowly of my sister, Shit Rat? Apologize or face me in a duel!” Licht yelled. She loved her family and she wouldn’t allow someone to disrespect them. She took off her other slipper to throw at him but her sister stopped her. Mahiru knew her words were far from a threat and she tried to pull her back. “Never step onto my creek again!”

Hyde couldn’t pull himself out of his shock to respond to her. He didn’t intend to insult her family and upset her. He wasn’t able to apologize before she was gone. Beside him, Kuro sighed: “That was a terrible way to introduce ourselves to the neighbours.”

#servamp #lawlicht #greed pair #servamp hyde #licht jekylland todoroki #fanfiction #fem licht

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tuellertrails · 4 years ago

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Why the PCT?

When I was 18, my coworker and I traded books for fun. I don’t even remember what book I gave her, but she gave me a copy of Wild by Cheryl Strayed, about a woman who hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in the 90′s. I loved the book because not only was it about this great adventure of the solitary trek that she took, but it was also a story of healing, a search for meaning and the strength to move forward after losing someone that she loved.

The author lost her mom to cancer when she was 18 or 19 years old, and it came on very suddenly. Within a month of being diagnosed, her mom had died, and the suddenness of the event really wrecked her and her siblings and step father. For years afterwards, she struggled with a drug and a sex addiction, got married and divorced, and just felt lost (The quoted sections ahead are all shared from her book).

“I was a terrible believer in things, but I was also a terrible nonbeliever in things. I was as searching as I was skeptical. I didn't know where to put my faith, or if there was such a place, or even what the word faith meant, in all of it's complexity. Everything seemed to be possibly potent and possibly fake.”

Randomly, she comes across a guidebook all about the PCT, and on a whim decides that she needs to do something different with her life. So she sells everything that she owns, goes to REI and buys a bunch of backpacking gear, and sets out to hike this trail with absolutely no backpacking experience. At the beginning her pack was so heavy that she called it “Monster” and could barely lift it. But she set out and hiked 1,100 miles in 94 days, reading, journaling and taking in this brutally hard experience. She conquered her fears and achieved this incredible thing that most people don’t even imagine doing.

“Fear begets fear. Power begets power. I willed myself to beget power. And it wasn't long before I actually wasn't afraid.”

It was this incredible journey that she undertook that actually helped her move on with her life and deal with her Mom’s death, perhaps in a way that almost nothing else could have. I loved it. It’s an incredible story with so much beauty and wisdom, and it inspired me like nothing else ever has. After reading it, I knew that I wanted to have my own experience and hike the PCT for myself.

“I had diverged, digressed, wandered, and become wild. I didn't embrace the word as my new name because it defined negative aspects of my circumstances or life, but because even in my darkest days—those very days in which I was naming myself—I saw the power of the darkness. Saw that, in fact, I had strayed and that I was a stray and that from the wild places my straying had brought me, I knew things I couldn't have known before.”

I had briefly mentioned this “wild” ambition to Landon, but we didn’t start seriously talking about it until Spring of 2018 when I was finishing up nursing school. I told Landon that before we had kids, i wanted to hike the PCT. Always down for an adventure (especially of the outdoor variety) and being the supportive husband that he is, he enthusiastically replied “Ok, lets do it!”

So we sat down and started researching what it would take to turn this dream into a reality. We watched Youtube videos (we reccommend Darwin on The Trail and Homemade Wanderlust) and read blog posts of hikers who had hiked the trail. We looked up all of the different options for backpacking gear and decided which pieces we wanted for our own kits, and opened up a savings account to start socking away money for the excursion.

Our original plan was to hike in 2020, and though we had saved up enough money and had all of our gear, we ended up cancelling our thru hike that year due to the Covid-19 Pandemic. Things were very uncertain in April of 2020, and many of the small communities that are along the PCT came out with statements asking for hikers to please cancel their hikes to eliminate the spread of the virus, especially in those trail communities whose residents are primarily elderly and do not have access to much healthcare close by. Shortly after, the Pacfiic Crest Trail Association also came out with a statement parroting the same sentiments and asking hikers to respect the wishes of the trail communities and please cancel their hikes, which the majority of hikers did. Even though we were bummed, we felt like cancelling our thru hike was the right thing to do, and we were able to spend a lot of time doing self supported backpacking trips that summer and continue practicing on those trips and dialing in our gear choices.

Fortunately for us, we have one more window of opportunity to hike the PCT this year in 2021. Landon is in between his Bachelor’s and Master’s degree programs, and doesn’t have any obligations until Fall semester of this year, at which point we anticipate him having to leave the trail a little bit early to go to graduate school in Colorado, where I will join him shortly after completing the trail. I have been working as a travel nurse over the last year and completed my most recent assignment in March, which gave us about a month to travel home, see our friends and family, pack up for grad school, and prepare our resupply boxes for the trail this year. We are both very fortunate to have received both doses of the Pfizer vaccine and we are feeling much more optimistic about the safety of hiking the PCT this year, though we will still continue to wear masks in towns. As I write this, I’m sitting at the table in Landon’s Aunt and Uncle’s house in San Diego, where we’ve been resting for a week before we start our thru hike on Monday, April 19th (they’ve been kind enough to host us while Landon recovers from running 62 miles from his latest ultra marathon endeavor).

We are so happy to finally be taking this journey together and to be realizing a goal and a dream of mine for the past 10 years! It’s going to be an amazing adventure and we can’t wait to start. I’ll be posting here at least once a week writing about our experiences, and Landon might be convinced to write an occasional post here too. Feel free to comment below or ask us any questions at the bottom of this post! And thanks for reading and supporting us. Just 2,653 miles to go!

#PCT #PCT2021 #Hikertrash #optoutside #tuellertrails #wild

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tres-spades-hotel · 4 years ago

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Becoming the Perfect Father, Part II

Hey everyone! So @lin-ful @leoamber66 and @flatsuke inspired me to start writing again! Have fun reading this and prepare yourself for the angst and action across the story... enjoy!

Part II - Kiki’s Heirship, a Backstory of Memories

Hi, my name is Kiki.

I used to be an orphan on the streets of Japan. I had to fend for myself, always dipping in and out of society for a while when I realised my family were no good to me. The scar they left me with on my eye made the famous billionaire, Eisuke Ichinomiya, the man leading Japan’s economy, curious. I saw him one day and believed in my heart I could be safe. I was only 7 years old when I followed him into his hotel one evening.

He crouched down to ask where my parents were but upon hearing the word, I was both crying and hitting him on his chest.

I hated the world for thinking that parents and family were what kept you safe because I didn’t believe it was true.

He didn’t know what to do with me.

I didn’t know what to do with me.

So he took my hand and led me to the penthouse elevator, thinking that Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota could calm me down. And they did. Throughout my time with them for the first few weeks, I was happy. Everyone played with me, they were patient with me, they were curious about me.

Dad looked after me, mostly because he was concerned about Uncle Baba’s antics. Blackmail was all it took to make his brick walls faulter. That day, talk of sending me to an orphanage arose and, apparently, Uncle Baba did not like it.

So Dad kept me, almost like a pet. He fed me, gave me shelter, clothing, and toys. After all this time, I really owe Uncle Baba for helping me even though I didn’t know it then. But there was only one thing Dad wouldn’t give me: his affection. To be honest, I don’t think he knew what it meant to give warmth and love to another person, whether it’s a woman or a child. That is, not until Mum came into our lives.

Instead I spent most of my time asking questions and receiving no answers. They were mysterious people with the world held tight in their hands. They could do anything.

I wanted that ability too.

Of course, it would be some time before I realise what responsibilities that ability entailed. I thought that if I were powerful, I could look after myself and never get hurt again. But it just wasn’t true.

‘Boss, let’s play a bit of poker.’ Uncle Baba said one day.

‘No.’ Rejected.

Uncle Soryu looked up from his book and sent a disapproving look at him.

‘Baba, there is a child here.’

‘Poker is not for children.’ Uncle Mamo muttered sleepily.

Everybody shot Uncle Baba down for the suggestion.

‘I want to play! Can I play too?’ I shot my arm up and waved it around.

‘No.’ Rejected. Again.

‘Kid, you do not want to play poker. You’ll lose instantly.’ Uncle Mamo finally got up from the couch for the first time that day.

‘Whaaaaaaaaaaat?!’

‘Koro, he’s saying that you don’t have enough money to play.’ Uncle Ota was always a devil.

‘Now, now Ota, don’t be so mean to Kiki. She’s just curious,’ Uncle Baba crouched down onto his knee.

‘Princess, poker is an adult game but you’re more than welcome to watch!’ He was always the more kind adult in the group. But I know that they’re all kind… in their own special ways.

‘You can watch me! With you by my side, I’ll win for sure!’ Always jolly too. He slipped an arm around me and hugged me close while the other lingered in the air like a star performer.

‘Baba, you always lose.’ Uncle Ota quipped in a matter-of-fact tone.

‘I do not!’

‘Koro, come sit with me and I’ll let you play with the chips!’

‘Uhhhh….’

‘Stop it. You’re confusing her.’ Uncle Soryu was always a firm favourite of mine after Mum and Dad. I might even be so bold as to call him a secret crush.

‘That’s enough. Kiki, sit next to me and watch what I do.’ Dad ultimately came to my rescue and the game began.

‘So Kiki, first we all put in a certain amount of chips.’ Uncle Baba held up a white chip, a red chip, and a blue chip.

‘How many chips?’

‘However many you want. Boss always insists he go first.’ There was a glare involved.

’10 million.’

‘Can’t you lower the amount?’ Uncle Mamo never did have as much money as the others. But…

‘If you don’t have enough money you can leave. Or are you so poor that you have to use our money to live in this hotel?’ It was rare to see Uncle Soryu smirk so evilly.

But Uncle Soryu always “convinced” him to continue. And Uncle Mamo always rose to the bait.

He threw another red chip into the middle. Raising the stakes.

‘Ooooohhh, Mamo is getting ready to win!’

‘Even though we all know he’s going to lose. Just like you Baba! The old men always lose.’

‘Shut up!’

‘Hey! That’s so rude Ota!’

The game was under way, with Dad and Uncle Baba giving audible instructions on how to play. I suppose this game was what shaped me into the Tres Spades Casino Queen when an international poker competition was held at the hotel.

‘Alright, time to show hands.’

I remember lifting up my hands as if it was an order. I also remember everyone laughing because of my hands.

‘Not your real hands. The cards.’

‘Ooooohhhh.’ You can imagine how red I was and how deeply I had buried my face into the pillow on my lap.

Uncle Mamo lost, Uncle Ota had a Three of a Kind and Uncle Baba had One Pair.

It was down to Uncle Soryu and Dad.

‘If you win, you can have the property you’ve been pinning for.’

‘Very funny.’

Uncle Soryu had a Full House.

Dad had a Royal Straight Flush.

‘So… who won?’

Throughout the games that afternoon, I was snuggling closer and closer to Dad’s body. And, for once, he didn’t push me away.

I was grateful for it.

‘Here you go Dad! All neatly organised in alfabetisal order.’

‘Alphabetical order.’

‘That’s what I said, alfapetical order.’

‘……….’ I knew Dad was sighing inwardly but I was content with life at the time. I didn’t know the danger that would happen hours later.

For a while, Dad decided to put me to work, to make up for the fact that I couldn’t pay to stay in the hotel. It was a bit dick-ish on his part but at least he didn’t sell me at the auctions. Eventually, he became more caring towards me as time went on. Waking me up when I had nightmares, patting me on the head, allowing me to help clean the paper work in his office. He even took me outside once on an exploration trip to see potential buyers and land to put the Ichinomiya name on.

I thought that I could finally be free from the pain I received. For a little while, I forgot why I had run away and why I was broken. But they reminded me of what my worth was.

‘Baba and Ota are taking me shopping. Should I get you something?’

‘If you want to.’

‘Like what?’

‘Whatever you think I will like. And if I don’t like it, I will tell you.’

‘Yeah, okay. Alright, I’ll be back later! Don’t work too hard!’ I waved my hands at the doorway to the purple man behind the desk. He didn’t look up.

‘Why am I here?’ Uncle Mamo whined.

‘Because you were sleeping. You need to do more than just eating and sleeping.’ Uncle Baba said behind the steering wheel.

‘I have work to do!’

‘You don’t have a job!’ Uncle Ota declared.

‘Yes I do kid!’

I couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of me. Uncle Baba decided that we should all hang out for dinner and try his new recipe of dumpling stew so he dragged us out to go shopping. But apparently I was too curious for my own good. It wasn’t long before I had wandered off to a different section of the shop that I felt a hand cover my mouth with a drugged napkin. I saw them pass by a corner before slipping into unconsciousness.

I hated myself for believing that I had a chance to live freely.

I remember waking up in a warehouse. I was chained to the ground with cuffs around my ankles and wrists. The stone ground was cold and miserable. I had to force myself to sit up and was instantly sick on the floor beside me.

‘She’s awake.’

‘I can see that idiot. Call the woman.’

When I was done, I looked up to see masked figures and screamed. They wore grizzly bear masks but not the fun-loving cartoon kind. They had tortured looks on their faces and blood seemed to seep out of the eye hole cut outs. A 7-year-old’s imagination can speed towards any direction but I knew better. They were symbols of the family I had left behind.

I backed into the wall behind me, hoping that the wall would open up and I could get away.

‘You’ve caused a lot of trouble young missy. You’re mum is very worried about you. Why don’t you speak with her, you little rat? Hm?’ A raspy voice floated out of the mask but I couldn’t move my hands close enough to my ears. The man reached out towards me but I took a bite into his fingers before they could touch me.

‘Ah! Damn you!’ He stood up quickly, cradling his right hand, and kicked me in my ribs. He threw down a punch on my left cheek for good measure before stomping off.

I was so used to the pain that I stopped crying out back then. But I guess staying with the bidders softened me too much. I sobbed quietly, feeling a thin stream of blood trickle down my face, and remembering the masks.

They were quite literally called The Family. I was born into it after my “father” slept with his mistress while his wife was giving birth to his third child. Illegitimate and alone, I was abused mercilessly by my half-siblings and their mother. Father didn’t care about me, he only lived for women and alcohol. But he kept an iron-fist over a torturous empire dedicated to illegal smuggling of organs. They used the bloody bear masks to practically scare their victims to death.

They were proud butchers. All of them. I was ashamed of the torture that it became a threat to my life every day.

Death was at my doorstep until I could take it no more.

‘You disgusting child, you never should have been born!’

Finally, she broke after her children accused me of attempting to steal money from their safe. They all knew it wasn’t true. She knew it was not true. She reminded me my place in this world when she drew a katana out and slashed it down my eye.

It wouldn’t be until I meet Uncle Luke Foster, who gave me a new eye and got rid of the scar, where I erase all traces of The Family.

‘The woman said to cut up her body for parts and organs. There is an auction nearby where we can sell them.’

I know now that they were talking about Dad’s auctions but luckily for me, I would never be put on that stage, dead or alive.

Before the bone-saw was even picked up from a medical cart, the screeches of car tires echoed faintly. The ground seemed to rumble like an approaching earthquake when suddenly, Uncle Soryu’s black Bentley tore through the main doors, forcing it off its hinges completely.

Dust lifted up and invaded our lungs as gravity set in and plunged the remains of the doors into the ground. The car doors opened and Dad came out in such a stylish manner that I thought I was in a movie.

‘Kiki…’

‘Eisuke!’ We looked at each other for a brief moment, a brief look of anger on his face, before he turned to see the man standing by me with the saw.

Dad stepped forward with a briefcase when one of the henchmen pointed his gun at him.

‘Don’t move!’

‘Eisuke!’ Uncle Soryu had his gun on the henchmen who immediately started shaking under his intense gaze.

Dad opened the briefcase and slid it forward.

‘$30 million in cash. If you give me the girl.’

They started mumbling and whispering, wondering what to do. It was clear the money Dad offered was substantially more than what they were originally being paid. But what would a famous billionaire hotel mogul want with a battered child? Looking to their leader, many of the men waited for an answer.

He looked down at me for a moment but I didn’t dare make eye contact.

‘Fine. Take her. She’s as good as dead anyway.’ The masked man threw the saw down and slowly crept up to the briefcase. He kneeled down when a shout came from the back of the warehouse. A large group of men appeared from the shadows with guns aimed at the heads of the henchmen.

‘Don’t shoot! Drop your weapons and get down!’

‘Wha-‘ Uncle Soryu moved quickly and bashed his gun onto the man’s head. He fell unconscious.

‘Don’t be so surprised. The Ice Dragons can be very useful at times like these.’ Dad had a smug look on his face; he knew he had won.

‘Mafia?!’

‘The Ice Dragons?!’

‘What are they doing in Japan?!’

The henchmen struggled and muttered and whined as the Ice Dragons led them away.

‘What should I do with them?’ Uncle Soryu handcuffed the man and forced him to stand on his feet.

‘The usual.’

‘Fine.’

‘Hey princess, let’s get you out of there.’ Uncle Baba’s voice came from one of the masks and I almost screamed again.

‘Don’t worry! Look!’ He took it off and I was relieved.

‘Baba…’ He unlocked the cuffs and Dad helped me stand up.

‘How did yo-‘

‘After you went missing, we did some digging around.’ Uncle Baba said, dropping the mask onto the ground.

‘We found out about The Family and traced you to here.’ Uncle Soryu came forward after handing the unconscious leader to Uncle Inui.

‘How though?’

‘The pager Eisuke gave you.’ Uncle Ota pointed to the object in my pocket.

I looked up at the man.

‘I never lose what belongs to me.’

‘We were lucky they didn’t take the pager from you. We’re glad that you’re safe.’ Uncle Soryu smiled at me.

‘You came to save me?’ I grasped Dad’s hand and asked in a small voice.

‘What kind of owner would I be if I let you get yourself kidnapped?’ I heard groans from the others.

‘Eisuke….’

‘Boss, she’s not a pet.’

‘Hey, Koro belongs to all of us. Not just you Eisuke.’

‘Eisuke?’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Can I stay with you?’

Dad looked mildly taken aback but he regained his composure, took out his pocket handkerchief and dabbed it on my cheek.

‘Ow…’

‘Stay still.’

‘Yes, stay very still for me.’

We all turned our heads to the sound of the new voice. He stood there in front of the car. The glare of the knife against the moonlight shot into my eyes. I blinked multiple times in the hopes that I had imagined him. My birth father stood there glaring at me alone, ignoring the Ice Dragons around him.

‘Stay very still while I cut you up into thousands of little pieces you damned hell spawn.’ He spat out those words that I knew so well while I quivered. He was capable of violence in every way. There were many times when he killed servants or subordinates out of anger. He was even worse when drunk, I never forgot the day when he stumbled in intoxicated and killed my mother in front of me.

‘He’s mad.’ I heard Dad whisper as he positioned himself in front of me. Shielding me.

‘You’ll have to get through me if you want her.’ Dad stood his ground and stared the crazed man down, something no one has ever done. But all it did was enrage him further.

Everything happened so fast that day, that everything is still hazy even after 15 years. He charged at Dad while gun shots rung across the warehouse. Uncle Soryu stopped him, dodged the knife, and grabbed his wrist, pinning it behind him. But that man got free and elbowed Uncle Soryu in his stomach. Suddenly, they were grappling with a gun and, as Uncle Baba and Uncle Ota tried to get me away, a single shot hit me.

‘KIKI!’ I remember falling to the ground clutching my side and hearing the yells of everyone around me. Dad’s face was the last thing I saw before blacking out.

I thought I was dead for real; I guess he almost made good on his promise to kill me.

In the end, I never saw The Family again. While Dad was bribing the henchmen hired by my step-mother, Uncle Mamo and the police arrested The Family using proof given by Uncle Baba’s sources. Apparently, he smelled of alcohol too that night so to hear that Dad killed my birth-father gave me a sense of peace that I didn’t know I had the capacity to feel.

I spent 2 week recovering in a private hospital. I was grateful. They never left me alone, always watching over me. The bullet wound did a lot more damage than the staff thought but they patched me up really well. Later, I would ask Dad to send small gifts to them as a thank you for looking after me. One of the nurses said that I nearly died on the operating table and that it was a miracle I pulled through at all.

‘You must have a big will to live, my dear. I’m sure there is someone you are living for in this life.’

I was unconscious for a while in the hospital after the operation. But I clearly remember the things that Dad said when he thought I was asleep.

‘Getting yourself kidnapped, getting yourself shot, nearly dying during surgery, you’ve lived through so many incidents. That’s not even mentioning the abuse you suffered growing up. He was mad. Very mad. I saw it in his eyes the hate he had for you, for the world. A man like that never survives. Only people like you. People who brave through situations, no matter how horrible or tragic, get to live in this world. I should know.’

I felt my hand enclosed in his hands.

‘I lost my family when I was your age. But I was taken in by my adopted father who was a close friend of my dad’s. He raised me, gave me a home, and taught me how to take care of myself. I repaid all of his kindness for giving me a new chance at life. Now I want to do the same thing for you. You asked if you could stay with me. I don’t intend to let you go, not after all this. I promise I will raise you the same way Akira raised me so that you can say that you made it through your trauma. That you deserve a new chance at life. Besides, Baba would have my head if I let you go now. You’ve really wiggled your way into our hearts Kiki. And it’s not a bad thing.’

‘Eisuke? I’ll look after her, you can go back to the hotel.’ Uncle Mamo walked into the private suite, so I couldn’t answer him. But in my heart, I already did.

‘You alright?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘She’s a tough kid. She’ll wake up soon.’

‘Oh I know. I doubt after all this, she would give up that easily.’ The door closed as Dad left the hospital.

I never forgot his words but I also didn’t ever tell him I knew. Maybe he sensed that I was awake but didn’t say. Dad never mentioned it and I was too shy to bring it up.

Eventually, the wounds healed but my body was still scarred. I went back to the hotel after what felt like forever. They held a little party to celebrate my return but I think they just wanted an excuse to drink. The way they drunk alcohol was very different to what I was originally used to. For a moment, I thought they would become like my birth-father, but it turns out maybe he was just a violent drunk.

Hours later, Uncle Mamo started sobbing and Uncle Baba reflected on the meaning of life, often asking me if I knew the theory of evolution. I was 7 years old.

Uncle Ota went to sleep and Uncle Soryu only shook his head disapprovingly at the mess in front of him. Dad gave me orange juice and snacks until I started feeling sleepy. He carried me upstairs in his arms. I woke up cuddling Dad in his room the next morning.

I finally found the home that I had always wanted.

After Dad and I got ready in the morning, Mr Kenzaki came to the penthouse.

‘It is good to see you’re back in high spirits again Kiki.’

‘Thank you!’ I said while eating an apple.

‘Here sir, the documents you requested has arrived.’ He handed over a black folder and Dad opened it.

‘Good. You can leave.’

Mr Kenzaki bowed and I waved goodbye.

‘Kiki. Come here.’

I got off my seat on the couch and stood in front of him. Dad un-crossed his legs, turned me around and lifted me up onto his lap.

‘Bwah!’

‘Pfft, are you comfortable?’

‘Oh, yes!’ I replied, looking up at his face. He placed his hand on my head and turned it towards the black folder.

‘Do you know what this is?’

‘Important documents?’

‘Yes. Do you know what of?’

‘For new property?’

‘No.’

‘A contract with another company?’

‘No.’

‘A restraining order on Uncle Baba?’

‘Pfft, if only.’ Dad chuckled.

‘Then what is it?’

Dad put the folder on the couch and adjusted me around so that I could see him.

‘They are adoption papers.’

At the time, my brain blanked out for a second. I had absolutely no idea what it meant. Then it clicked.

‘Who are you adopting?’

‘You know the answer to this, dummy.’ Dad laughed at my dumb question and I asked another.

‘You’ll let me stay?’

‘You don’t need to live in fear anymore Kiki. I will raise you to become my heir to the Ichinomiya Group and the Tres Spades Hotel. There will be hardships but I’m not about to allow you to go.’ He smiled a rare smile at me. I cried horribly ugly kid tears. All the tension in my life suddenly melted away when Dad held me tight to his chest. He patted my head as I sobbed my heart out.

‘You don’t have a choice in the matter.’

You have no idea how many times he says this exact line, or maybe you do. It is indescribable the feelings and emotions I had that day. Somehow, I found myself a new family and a new father who would look after me and love me like a real father. I believed that the idea of a family didn’t exist but the truth is that it does. You just have to know where to look.

Mum was added into my family a year later. A year after that, Uncle Luke, Uncle Shu, and Uncle Hikaru completed my family.

Hi, my name is Kiki Ichinomiya, President of the Ichinomiya Group.

And I am the heir to the Hotel King’s legacy.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb eisuke #kbtbb family #soryu oh #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #mamoru kishi

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patheticwithanem · 4 years ago

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2020 in Retrospect

Hey friend,

I know it’s late, but I HAVE TO DO THIS. I kind of promised myself I’m writing about the year that was. I’m not exactly sure why; maybe it’s to put things in perspective going in to 2021? And today’s my fourth year anniversary with my employer, so I guess it’s perfect timing? (More on that later)

So I was going through my notes (I have this habit of writing down what happens on a daily basis - be it activities, emotions, drama, name it) and one thing’s for sure. 2020 SUCKED. It did. But I’m committing to this no matter what!

First things first: lots of profanities along the way. Well actually, I was about halfway writing the letter when fucking Tumblr decided to refresh and delete what I’ve been writing for about one fucking hour now. So I have to fucking do it all over again. If this is the Lord telling me to stop being sentimental about 2020, fret not my Lord! I’m one stubborn son of a bitch, so I’m carrying on.

Here’s how the rest of the year unfolded. 2020. Let’s go.

JANUARY. Reunions?

January 1. Had a get-together with a few relatives in Malabon. It was fun! I used to be so allergic to family reunions but I guess age creeping in changes you? You value people even more now? This was also the last time we’re able to spend some time with my uncle from Singapore. He brought his family to spend the holidays here. He’s a sweetheart and a great father who’s missed.

January 9. I attended a college dormmate’s wedding. I remember contemplating whether to go or not only to realize I’m actually lucky to be even invited given the fact that I chose to be distant for them for a long while. I also told myself that not showing up is so far from what I’m trying to be. Although I wasn’t there for the whole thing, I’m glad I did come. I was able to bond with my roommates once again whom I treated like brothers ten years ago and that was nice. A not-so-close dormmate even introduced me to his boyfriend and that’s huuuuge. The bride was beautiful too, and I’m glad she’s in the best place right now after all she’s been through. She’s a strong one, that girl.

January 11. Got invited to a birthday pool party of a colleague at work. I have to say I’m actually quite surprised I was invited to this. She’s always had my back though and always kind of looked after me, so I had to go. It was fun but I didn’t get drunk AT ALL.

January 12. AND THIS IS WHERE SHIT STARTED HAPPENING. The Taal Volcano erupted. It was awful especially for everyone living near the area because everything was covered with ash. It was also a day before my brother’s birthday and we thought the ashfall would be worse the next day so we decided to celebrate earlier.

January 19. Went to a fiesta. Did not expect to survive that at all. It was a different kind of neighborhood, but the people were nice.

January 25. Went to a public market with co-workers to buy clothes, eat chicken wings for dinner and then our regular fix of karaoke. Good times.

Anything else? I was able to book a birthday trip to Yogyakarta, which I eventually canceled because of youknowwhat. Tragic.

February. Blindside!

February 7. Blindside’s a bitch. Yes, that’s what I had written on my notes. I legitimately felt blindsided. So story: I have a friend who I found out was pregnant (let’s call her Ms. Preggy, sorry) and me and her bestfriend (let’s call him Work Son because he was my work son in a lot of ways) decided to hold an intervention for her. The four of us including a friend I’m going to call The-Now-Bestie (kind of a spoiler) whom I had a misunderstanding and was not in speaking terms with will be coming to Work Son’s place. Essentially, the goal was to make Ms. Preggy open up about her pregnancy and her issues with the douchebag father; make her feel that she has us and she doesn’t need to be alone in this. I think it went well, in that regard. However, the whole thing was awkward in epic proportions. It’s as if me and The-Now-Bestie didn’t want to acknowledge each other’s existence, and when we didn’t have a choice, we were sarcastic to each other. I also really felt like an outsider among the four that time; like I wasn’t supposed to be there and wasn’t really contributing to anything. It was a really lonely feeling. I decided to distance myself to them after that.

February 13. WINNERS AT WAR PREMIERE! Words can’t even express how excited I was to see some of my heroes again on screen! Parvati with that “phoenix rising from the ashes” confessional? Damn, girl! Still a fucking legend! It was also nostalgic Yul working his godfather magic once again. I’ve always seen him as a top-tier winner and someone I looked up to for what he represented to the Asian community and the history of Survivor. It was also nice seeing Kim, Tyson, Tony, Sophie, Natalie and Sandra. But I must say I kind of missed Todd. He was my favorite winner and was a great storyteller, a great strategist and a great character with an amazing comeback story. He would’ve been perfect for a season with this caliber of players. And as much as I hate Jeff Probst for shoving him down our throats, I wanted to see Cochran play with these winners! Caramoan’s my first season (a late superfan, yes) and he’s the very reason I got so hooked with the show. I used to think it’s a game where people like me never win. So to see someone like Cochran who’s awkward in every sense of the word (and owning it) win Survivor, it is very inspiring. I like speaking in metaphors and it’s funny how much metaphorical Survivor can be to how I see life now. I see Cochran and if he can win in Survivor, I feel like I can win in life, as silly as that sounds. Cochran sucked his first season, but he then went on to play this dominant game his second try while still managing to be the adorkable underdog that he is. I love that story. Man, I get so worked up when I talk about Survivor! I wish I had that same passion with anything else.

February 19. Mom slipped and had to be rushed to the nearest ER. Good thing there were no fractures and she was fine. I guess we can thank the fats for that? LOL

February 21 ‘til 23. WEEKEND STAYCATION! I needed this! Drinking at the hotel taproom with a live band? YES! Indian for lunch and surf-and-turf buffet for dinner? YES YES YES! That lamb chops, MY LORD. Thank you.

February 29. Leap Day. I started journaling again.

March. FUCKING COVID.

March 16. The Start of the Lockdown we all come to love now (punk, sarcasm).

March 17. Politics is so taboo to discuss especially over dinner. But then BAM. I had a major fight with my dad (and by major, I mean MAJOR in a get-out-of-the-house-in-the-middle-of-the-pandemic kind of major). It was basically about a comment he made that’s so misogynistic (towards the Vice President) that I just knew I can’t just let go. It was sooo bad I got all pissed, and when I’m pissed, I can get scary. Maybe it’s the voice or the eyes or both, but the fight got really heated on the verge of getting physical. Which now that I think about it is stupid just because of fucking different political views. Well, I can never get behind the President and they’re huge fans of him and I’ve come to terms with that but it’s just... bleh. I’m not even gonna try to rationalize it because I can’t. It’s just.. disgusting. Oh fucking well.

April. Wander-fucking-lust.

April 1. I started a 30-day Financial Detox which basically meant no unnecessary expenses. No online shopping, no paying for leisure. None. It was April Fools, but I was dead-set on saving! (Spoiler alert: I failed.)

April 6. Meltdown. I just really couldn’t hold it in anymore.

April 11. Dad’s birthday. After not talking for over a month (which is no easy feat in a tiny condominium unit), we acknowledged each other’s presence. By April 15, it’s like nothing happened anymore. He even gave me a home haircut (which for a beginner, is pretty good). On other news, I started watching The Politician on Netflix and t’was the day I started obsessing on Ben Platt and his music.

April 16. A year ago, I was enjoying sidewalk pho and almost making friends at Cu Chi Tunnels and the Saigon Skydeck of the Bitexco Financial Tower in Ho Chi Minh. Damn, covid.

April 18. That crazy border-crossing from Saigon to Phnom Penh a year ago. That was fulfilling. Damn, covid.

April 19. A year ago, I was experiencing sunrise at Angkor Wat. Wander-fucking-lust UGH.

April 30. That Town Hall shoutout from our company’s President because of reaching my quota from last month. That really felt good. As much as I hate to admit it, I like being validated from time to time. It definitely meant a lot especially coming from her who took a chance on me. I was patting my back.

MAY. Endure. Let Go.

May 14. KING TONY WON. Very well-deserved win. A disappointment of a season if you ask me, but props to the king for dominating an all-winners season. Respect for that. Also Natalie and Michele played great games as well and they should be very proud of themselves. I feel like a proud father to these winners HAHAHA!

May 16. Was pleasantly surprised with Dead to Me. That car scene between Jen and Judy on that ninth episode from the second season? Damn. That’s one of the few moments I teared up because of a TV show. That was powerful. All that tension building up and then that sudden release? I really felt that.

May 26. Why do I always feel all this fucking rage inside of me? I try to think of any triggers but I can’t seem to find one that’s actually reasonable. It’s like the isolation getting the best of me. I initially thought quarantine’s going to be a cakewalk for an introvert like myself, but it wasn’t the case. I feel like I’m losing my shit because I was stripped off of the usual things I have access to whenever I feel uneasy and anxious and angry like this. Endure, let go, I know. But it’s so much easier said than done, right?

JUNE. Breathe.

June 12. So the plan to sell the condo and find a new place is real. We went to this great place in Valenzuela and it was a great house and all but I felt weird. Maybe I was having trouble letting go? Maybe it’s just me being averse to change yet again?

June 15. Slept 6am for that How To Get Away With Murder series finale. That speech. VIOLA. Chills all over my body.

June 18. New phone was delivered. That was fast.

June 27. First time visiting the village we moved to. We were checking a different house this time and was already picturing us living there. Still felt weird, but maybe less.

Looking at it now, I realize almost nothing happened in this stretch of months. Pathetic.

JULY. Change (that’s not necessarily good lol)

July 3. The Anti-Terrorism Bill signed. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT.

July 10. Doomsday. The ABS-CBN renewal disapproved. FUCK THE CIRCUS THAT IS THE PHILIPPINE GOVERNMENT. Also, that first house we checked was bought this day. First heartbreak.

July 22. Decided to donate to one of my elementary teachers to help finance school supplies for his students in the province. That felt good.

July 24. folklore’s goooood. This is the Taylor Swift sound that I love. (I had to write that down because that was a 2020 highlight to be honest)

AUGUST. Getting older. Again.

August 2. Donated to another cause: to help a really close friend’s mom (who’s a school principal) on financing their students’ lesson modules (they needed more paper so the donation was going to be used to buy more paper). That felt good.

August 3. Started obsessing on Dear Evan Hansen. I mean come on. HOW COME I ONLY KNEW OF THIS NOW?!?! The story, the acting, the soundtrack... it felt like I asked the Lord for a musical for me and he gave this on a silver platter.

August 9. Lasagna, baked sushi, lechon belly, pansit, cake. Weird combination, I know, but that’s me!

August 11. Discovered the Slowly app. Changed my life since then! I’m not even exaggerating. I guess it has to do with feeling extremely lonely amid the pandemic and getting this platform where you can talk to literally anyone while still keeping your anonymity. And it strips you off of instant gratification you’re so used to because you actually have to wait for your letters to be sent and to arrive. A great exercise for patience if you ask me! And since you have to wait, you make your letters longer and more worthwhile. It’s a platform free of judgment which relies heavily on building actual mental and emotional connections. It’s a gift, truly. NOT EXAGGERATING; YES I’M THAT LONELY.

August 23. The house search continued. This time, the South!

August 24. It was my first time watching a Korean drama and I gotta say I get the hype now. Korea makes great stories and they take their time when telling these stories. The story centering about mental health was definitely what got me to try watching It’s Okay to Not Be Okay, but the show’s so much more than that. That was a great watch.

SEPTEMBER. Finally some light?

September 1. Second year anniversary. I still really miss her.

September 5. My cat’s 5th birthday! Of course we had to celebrate for her with baked macaroni and burnt cheesecake.

September 11. Lost uncle. He gave a good fight.

September 19. SENSE8. It’s a show that doesn’t need any explaining. It’s the BEST. I love this cast SO MUCH. I remember thinking if I ever get a tattoo (which is unlikely), I’ll maybe have the title of that Sense8 series finale inked on me. AMOR VINCIT OMNIA. Love conquers all.

September 27. After a series of unfortunate events, we were led to this house on the same village we keep going back to, and the moment we saw it, we were sold. This is going to be our house. And it happened.

OCTOBER. Surprises?

October 6. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t.

October 12. Booked a trip for next year because I’M HOPEFUL AS FUCK.

October 21. Had the best conversation I had in a long time.

October 22. Hooked up with someone I probably shouldn’t.

October 28. Organized a digital event for work. I’m still on the fence whether I’m proud of it or not. It was my first event, and I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. While I enjoyed all the preparation that came with it, from making that tactical marketing plan to coordinating with the organizers and my team, I felt like it was bland. There were lapses here and there and I know that we all tried the best we could, but maybe I just pictured it a little better in my mind? It wasn’t a flawless event and maybe I wanted it to be flawless. But it was fun. I never would’ve imagined me hosting an event, but I did.

NOVEMBER. Decisions.

November 14. So news came and we’re finally moving. The buyer of the condo got approved and it was only a matter of weeks to settle documents and payment and we’re good to go. I had mixed feelings about it. It took me back to that time we started looking for houses. I wasn’t exactly ready to let go of the place I grew with for the past five years. And I wasn’t also ready to let go of the convenience, and the relationships I only have started building with friends I found along the way. But at that moment I knew I had to be happy because they were happy. My family was happy. I knew I have to be happy.

November 21. Started all the packing. Packing meant decluttering and reminiscing, so letting go of more things which was overwhelming at first, but inevitable.

November 23. I had something checked in the hospital, and something happened and it wasn’t supposed to go that way but it did and it was so fucking bizarre lol

November 28. HAPPY MOVING DAY. It’s that day of the year. Stress was off the charts because of the time constraint and frankly, the lack of preparedness. Good thing a few people helped us with the rest of the packing. It was an impossible task for me and my sister alone so we were glad we got all the help we needed. I did most of the heavy lifting, so I had bruises all over my body for weeks, but after all was said and done, it felt surreal. Felt like everything coming full circle. That first night in the new home? I’ll never forget that. That was special.

December. The end of an era.

December 2. I went back to the condo to stay for a few more days. Get to feel the place one last time. Also lost a huge deal at work to a competitor. I usually really get depressed with these losses, but for some reason I felt indifferent about it. I guess it was my mind telling me I’ve mentally checked out of work already? That maybe it is really time to move on to something that’ll make me care about what I do again? Make me feel again?

December 4. Met someone (who we can call the Professor) I’ve been talking to for a while now. We’ve had some really great conversations leading to this night; talks at 3AM that’s kind of liberating? I was upfront about the moving and that I only have a few days left in the place which is probably why it happened. Professor was also upfront about leaving the country in a few months for an opportunity to work and do research in Japan for five fucking years. It was awkward at first; but we eventually warmed up to each other and spent the night together.

December 5. Things escalated pretty quickly. The Professor gave me a shower (that was weird but I was feeling it and I thought it was sweet and sexy?). We cuddled until we slept and there was breakfast prepared when I woke up. I don’t usually get to experience this kind of stuff so I really appreciated that. I was feeling it. I thought I can get used to this! I left the place and was invited back again so I stayed over for another night. We’ve had a few more interesting conversations. I was not expecting some of the things we discussed especially the talk about long-distance relationships. The Professor asked me what I think about it and I was honest; I’m not against it but it’s not something I’ll take a chance on if I wasn’t sure about it. Mantra’s always been connection first before commitment. I’m not the “take a leap of faith” kind-of guy; I needed to be sure. Or at the very least be really mentally and emotionally connected with the person. I thought that made perfect sense. I still do.

December 6. So it was finally goodbye. Me and my sister went to the nearest church to donate a few clothes and shoes and to attend a mass. Bid farewell to the Professor too and promised each other to keep in touch. I also had an awkward encounter with my sister’s “friend” who she sneaked in the condo for God knows what for. Pretty sure they did the nasty.

December 13. We went to our old house (the one I spent my younger years in) to get a few stuff for the new house. I only really wanted to get my old bicycle because I want to be biking regularly for the next year. I want to take that fitness journey seriously! So I got the bike and I got to spend some time with some childhood friends. Good stuff.

December 15. A teammate resigned at work. The funny thing is he did it after getting that 13th month bonus HAHAHA! I can’t blame him though after learning about the salary he gets when he’s performing three functions in the team. That’s insane. But it really made me wonder: am I still in this for the long haul? Or do I move on too?

December 17. So I had my work desk and wardrobe delivered. Felt so nice buying things for my room!

December 19. We got a new dog! Another French Bulldog. He’s pretty sweet. Someone’s not happy! (MY MOM)

December 22. And then this happened. We were supposed to meet after my dentist appointment (which I only used as an excuse to meet and I thought that was obvious) but the Professor never showed up. I waited for FIVE FREAKIN HOURS. I had like clothes with me because we agreed I sleepover but FUCK. Good thing a friend kept me company, but that was horrible. I thought YOU NEVER DO THAT TO ANYONE. I deserve better.

December 24. We had our house blessed. It was all super spontaneous; we invited a few friends and relatives over and had an intimate gathering. Mom got emotional (AGAIN).

December 27. So Ms. Preggy (from February - oooh that rhymed) had her son baptized. Since she lives a little father from the city, we decided to have a little staycation with some friends there too. The-Now-Bestie and Work Son was there, and we had beer and homecooked food and a slew of great conversations to cap off the year.

Also December 27. I knew I needed to get something off my chest. And I just had to say it.

“You’re so unfair. You shouldn’t have done that. Gave me false hopes. Gave me a “3-day trial period” only to disappear without any warning. Made promises you never intended to keep. You could’ve just told me you’re not interested anymore and I would’ve been fine with that but instead, you ghosted me. For the past few weeks since that weekend, it never seemed like you wanted to get to know me better. Or even just keep the communication going. It’s been one-sided and I wonder: has it always been this way? Maybe I’m remembering things differently. I told you I like you and I meant that. I’m still wrapping around my head why and how it happened to be honest. Maybe it’s that weekend? Maybe it’s the conversations leading up to when we first met? I don’t know. But things changed after that and I should ask you for an explanation but it’s really not the point. The point is I thought we can work something out and you hurt me. You may feel like you’re running out of time because of Japan but it’s no excuse to do that to anyone, really. You seem so sure about what you want so I hope you get whatever that is. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the memories.”

That was intense.

December 28. The Professor responded. “I apologize... I am getting attached... I had to “ponder on its implications to me in the long run”... I decided to slow down... It hurts... “That weekend that we met felt like I knew you before”... I am afraid... “You have no idea how hard it is to leave everything behind every 4-5 fucking years not because I wanted it but because I have to”... I still hope to continue whatever we have... “I will always remember you. Please don’t forget about me.”... YADA YADA YADA.

I know. You know me. I try to empathize as much as possible. But I mean, come on. These are things I already know. It’s not what I needed to hear.

December 31. I needed to say something one last time. There’s already a lot of uncertainties in the world with COVID and life and everything else. I knew I needed answers; I want the binary. I want the black or white for this one. I’m not taking the gray with me next year. So I asked the following questions:

“What do you want from me? Do you want to be friends? Or we stick with occasional catching up on Viber every once in a while (because that’s what it sounds like to me)?”

“What do you want to get from your last two months here? What are you looking for? Just make the most “fun’? Or look for something that will stick?”

“Have you told me anything you really didn’t mean?”

“That one time we talked about long-distance, were you asking me?”

Fast forward to now: I never got the answer I needed. I guess this is one of those rare occasions where no answer is the answer. And after a few weeks of contemplating about it, I am leaving it behind in 2020.

I’m actually at peace with that.

So there you have it. The suck-fest that is 2020. The first month of the new year wasn’t so bad. I feel this great energy. This year’s going to be different. I did tell you that this letter’s perfect timing. That’s because I’ve resigned and I’m moving on. A friend told me a while ago that he’s proud of me for finally taking action. The 2018 version of myself wouldn’t have done what I did and he was happy for me. I wanted a clean slate and I took it. That I was finally taking ownership of my life.

I was elated. My friend usually spoils me with compliments and encouragement and my ever reliable negative self-image tend to disagree with him but for the first time in a very long time, it felt right. I’m not usually excited for New Years, but I guess I am?

I say bring it on, 2021.

Until then,

Patheticwithanem

5 notes · View notes

bee-kathony · 6 years ago

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ONCE UPON A TIME | CINDERELLA AU

Inspired by the beautiful moodboard created by the talented @balfeheughlywed

Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful girl named Claire Beauchamp, she was strong, independent and kind. She lives in the Kingdom of Lallybroch, ruled by King Brian Fraser, his son James Fraser is a young, sharp and handsome lad, unsure of his responsibilities. Claire's world shifts when her Uncle Lamb announces he is to be married. This is a tale of family, strength, kindness.... and love.

Chapter 1 | First Impressions

The wind blew across the field, making Claire’s unruly curls fly over face, momentarily blocking her vision. She had been sitting under her favourite tree all afternoon, the same tree she often had dreams of. In her dreams, she saw a beautiful woman smiling down at her, brown hair cascading down her shoulders and tickling her skin. Claire remembered a young man too, he must have been her Father, Henry.

Claire knew that in these dreams, these people smiling down at her were her parents but she could barely remember them. They had died when she was very young, on their way to visit Claire’s Uncle Lamb when they were caught in a terrible storm, their carriage had run into a fallen tree and turned over several times, crashing down the side of a mountain.

She had been with her Uncle Lamb ever since. He often told stories of her parents when she asked him to. Claire never wanted to forget where she came from, who she was.

Claire tucked her legs against her chest and folded her arms around her knees. She didn’t want to go back to the house just yet. Soon her Uncle would come looking for her, to bring her back to reality. The reality that her Uncle, her guardian, her only family… was getting married.

Quentin Lambert Beuchamp, her Father’s brother, was a passionate man. He enjoyed digging things up in the ground, discovering their origins and the history surrounding those objects. His day to day life was as a Merchant, selling those artefacts he found from town to town, often leaving Claire to herself.

Claire didn’t mind being on her own, in fact she preferred it. They lived in a quaint house that was plenty big enough. It was the house that she was born in, her Uncle had moved in when he became her guardian. They had a small garden and collection of animals like chickens, one cow, two goats and two very lovely horses.

But Claire’s favourites were the little mice that ran throughout the house. Most people would think mice simply vermin but Claire had grown to think of them as friends, as odd as it sounded.

Animals were her first love, if you treated them with kindness then they reciprocated in turn. Her uncle was marrying someone that on first impression she saw no trace of kindness in. Jonathan Wolverton Randall was his name. She always knew that her uncle had an eye for the lads but never thought he would marry a man. Claire had no objections of course but this man… there was something quite off about him. Not to mention his children that came along from his first marriage, the twins.

Laoghaire and Alex Randall, the two most annoying and self-possessed humans to ever walk this earth. Claire had just celebrated her twentieth birthday, she was finally not in those awkward teenage years. Laoghaire and Alex were just seventeen, obnoxious teenagers indeed.

“Bloody children that’s what they are.” Claire’s first meeting with the twins was not altogether a pleasant one. They had stepped out of the carriage both wearing the most vile and obscene pieces of clothing Claire had ever seen. She put on her brave face and greeted them, welcoming them into her home.

They tossed their bags at her feet, assuming she was the maid. She had stared down at the bags and when she didn’t pick them up, Laoghaire turned on her, “Ye better pick up those bags lass or my daddy will have ye out of this house, lookin’ for somewhere else to work.” Her eyes were wicked, her tongue most foul, and Claire didn’t like her one bit.

“I’m not the maid… I’m Claire, your new sister.” She had stuck out her hand in greeting but Laoghaire and Alex turned to each other and burst out laughing.

“This girl? Our sister?!” More laughing and Claire had begun to grow frustrated and a bit embarrassed.

“Well your outfit…” Alex looked her up and down, taking in Claire’s simply frock made of pale blue linen. “Is atrocious, no wonder you mistook her for a maid!” He laughed to Laoghaire and turned back to Claire, “As long as ye’re dressed like a maid, ye best pick up our bags and take them inside.”

Claire had treated everyone with kindness and in return she received the same. It wasn’t in her nature to be feeling what she felt know, hatred.

How could she live in that house and put up with those two? Not to mention her new step-uncle. Jonathan Randall was a man of few words, he was British, like her and her uncle, an officer of the King and apparently quite the charmer.

Her uncle did look happy, that was what mattered right?

Just as she suspected she saw her uncle walking to where she was. He didn’t say anything as he approached her but sat down beside her, sighing as his joints popped and cracked on the descent.

“Ah Claire, my sweet Claire.” She rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his elbow.

“I know you’ll grow to like them, first impressions aren’t always correct.” In this case Claire wasn’t too sure about her impressions of them changing anytime soon.

Claire looked up at her uncle then, “I love you, you know that. You always told me that my mother was the kindest woman you had ever met.”

“Yes she was. And she gave that same kindness to you my dear.” He placed his finger under her trembling chin. “Don’t worry my child, I know that this is difficult for you. Having it just been the two of us for so long now. But I do think it will be nice for you to have Laoghaire and Alex around to keep you company.”

“If you say so uncle.” Claire smiled and Uncle Lamb gave her hand a gentle pat and she stood from her spot, reaching her hands down to help him up.

They began the short walk back to the house, the Autumn sun shined behind them, creating a peaceful glow on the house.

It was anything but peaceful when they arrived inside. Laoghaire and Alex were screaming at each other about wardrobes being too small and there not being enough room for all their shoes. Jonathan Randall was in the sitting in the lounge, ignoring all the commotion and reading a novel, obviously used to all the racket.

“What on earth is going on?” Claire asked, looking at the chaos that had exploded in the form of colourful clothing and wigs strewn about all over her bedroom.

“Well ye’re room is the biggest ye ken, Alex and I always share a room so we moved our stuff in here.” Laoghaire grunted as she picked up a pile of Claire’s clothes and dropped them in the hallway.

“But… this is my room. The only other room is-“ Claire groaned inwardly.

“The attic lass.” Alex smirked, tossing yet another audacious piece of clothing on his bed.

“Ye best get all ye’re stuff out of the hall Claire, Daddy doesna like a mess.” Claire sighed, she must show them kindness if she expected to receive an inkling of it in return.

“Yes of course.” She smiled and left the room, careful not to trip on her belongings scattered on the floor. A reflection down the hall caught her eye and she walked over to it.

It was her Mother’s hand mirror, one of the only things she had that was hers, lying broken and shattered. Claire didn’t cry often but a tear slid down her cheek as she bent down and picked up what was left of her Mother.

She held it gently to her chest and shut her eyes tight. “It’s okay Beauchamp, you’ll get through this.” Claire took several deep breaths and returned to pick up the few remaining earthly possessions she owned.

Her Uncle Lamb, she saw was now in the lounge sitting beside Jonathan Randall, holding his hand and smiling. She wiped away her tears and walked to the end of the hall, opening the door that led up to the attic.

It didn’t take her long to arrange everything, while it was quite dusty and there wasn’t much in the way of decoration, soon it was suitable enough. Her bed, her books and her friendly mice were really all she needed.

Claire didn’t return downstairs that evening, she thought she wouldn’t be missed in any case. She rose early the next morning, waking with the sun.

As she walked through the halls and down the stairs, she heard no sound. Everyone was still asleep, nothing was demanded of her so Claire went to the small stable that housed their two horses.

She saddled Brimstone, her favourite and set off into the woods surrounding the house, eager to escape with her own thoughts.

Claire loved how the air whipped across her face, it always helped to clear her mind whenever something troubled her.

She rode towards the sun, slowing down to a trot when she reached the river and continued to follow its path.

Brimstone snorted and neighed as they turned past a corner of trees, “What is it girl?” Claire stroked her mane, trying to calm the horse down, “What do you see?”

Claire spotted the root of Brimstone’s agitation, another horse was tied to a tree, it’s owner no where to be found. She clicked her tongue and brought Brimstone to a halt, leaping off and tying her next to the other horse.

The owner of the horse couldn’t have gone far she thought. Claire walked through the trees and down a small slope that led to the river. When she looked up she spotted him. A tall red haired man, drinking from his hands as he dipped them in the running water.

She stepped forward and her foot met a branch making a ‘crack’ sound. The man leapt to his feet, pulling out his sword and brandishing it in front of him making Claire take two steps back. She tripped on a rock wedged in the ground and fell on her bottom.

��Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!” She exclaimed, her hands going to her now sore bottom.

The man slid his sword in its hilt and ran over to her, crouching down to her level, “I’m sorry lass, I didna mean to scare ye” He laughed, amused with the situation. “I wasna aware of anyone else bein’ in this part of the wood, it was ye that gave me the first fright.” He held out his hand for her to take and she looked from his hand to his eyes.

Claire saw his face for the first time. He had a strong jawline, a straight nose, a bit of scruff on his cheeks and neck and the most gorgeous ocean blue eyes. He looked familiar but she couldn’t quite place him. Claire forgot her words as she looked into his eyes and he laughed again.

“C’mon lass, let me help ye up.” The man now reached for her hand and she shook her head, trying to collect herself. Claire was brought to her feet and swayed a little, unsteady on the uneven ground. The man’s hands immediately went to her waist to hold her upright and she felt a spasm of energy run through her body.

“Sorry” He said and removed his hands, holding them in fists now at his side, almost like he was afraid to involuntarily touch her again.

“Thank you.” Claire finally managed to speak. “And I’m sorry I snuck up on you like that, I saw your horse and came to investigate who it’s owner could be.”

“Aye, it’s my horse, Donas, I heard the river and needed a wee drink.” He smiled again, he was absolutely beautiful Claire thought.

He said something but Claire was too distracted by the way his mouth quirked up on one side to hear him.

“Sorry what did you say?” Claire blinked several times. She really must get better at concentrating.

The man smiled, his mouth doing that thing again which made her stomach do somersaults.

“I said, do ye live around here? I can tell by ye’re accent ye’re not from Scotland… a Sassenach.” He called her a Sassenach, often a derogatory word meaning ‘English person’ or ‘Outlander’, and not always the nicest thing to say to someone she thought.

“Meanin’ no offence to ye of course lass.” He said quickly once he saw the expression on her face.

“It’s alright. I take no offence to the word.” She actually liked the way he said it, his Scottish accent was like the bird song, sweet and musical. “And yes… I live just back there a ways” Claire pointed behind her, it was quite a ways actually and she had better be getting back before the household realised she wasn’t there… if they realised she was gone at all.

“Do you live near here then? I don’t normally see people when I come here to ride.” Claire put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the rising sun.

The man shuffled back and forth on his feet, he seemed a bit nervous. “Och, no. I live more in the city I suppose.”

“You suppose? You mean you don’t know where you live?” Claire tried to suppress a laugh, this man was becoming more and more interesting.

Aye, I ken where I live,” he laughed and ran his hand through his curly red hair, “I do live in the city, in Lallybroch.”

Lallybroch, it was the where the palace was, the King Brian Fraser and his recently late wife Ellen, the Queen, had ruled over the kingdom all her life. She had been into the city quite often, going with Uncle Lamb to help him sell his artefacts or pick up a few new books from the local bookseller.

“Which area do you live in? I go into the city quite often, would I know it?” Claire asked, the man’s cheeks blushed crimson red which she found odd but also charming.

“Aye, you would know it.” He didn’t say more, but suddenly turned and walked up the slope, Claire followed and saw another man come riding from the opposite direction.

“Who’s that man? Do you know him?” She asked and pointed in the direction of the stranger.

The red haired man cursed in Gaelic and untied his horse, mounting it easily and guided his horse back to the path. “Aye, he… works for my Father.” The man said unsurely.

“Your High-“ the stranger said to the red haired man but he interrupted him all too quickly, “It’s Jamie, Jamie! It’s Jamie!” He rushed out, stopping the other man from continuing his sentence.

The other man chuckled, “Well then… Jamie. Ye’re Father has asked me to come and fetch ye. Ye have…” He looked over at me, barely visible behind Jamie on his horse, “some important business to attend to.”

“Aye, I suppose I do. Fine Murtagh, I’m comin’.” The man, whose name I now knew was Jamie turned back to look down at me, his smile as bright as ever. “I must leave Sassenach, duty calls. Will I see ye here again?” He looked hopeful, almost childlike.

Claire blushed, her hands untying her horse from the tree as she spoke, “Perhaps I shall see you in the city some day.”

The other man suddenly laughed and then began coughing causing Jamie to glare at him. “Aye lass, maybe ye will.” Claire climbed on Brimstone and grabbed the reigns, pointing the horse in the direction of home.

“Sassenach!” James called before she raced off, “What’s ye’re name, ye know mine is Jamie…”

“Goodbye Jamie…” She smiled coyly and clicked her tongue, her thighs pressing against the horse beneath her and began riding in the opposite direction of Jamie.

She dared a glance back and saw that he was watching her, his mouth agape. “Sassenach!” He called out to her once more but she was too far away to respond.

If she ever saw that strange red haired man again, she promised to tell him her name but for now she kept that to herself, the only part of herself that she felt she owned anymore.

#claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #his royal highness #claire fraser #fairytale #cinderella au #balfeheughlywed #incredible moodboard #cinderella #outlander fanfic #mclairefras #once upon a time fanfiction

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bishopazariyah · 4 years ago

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Shalawam to my brothers of GreatMillStone!!! Thawadah for another inspiring and edifying bible lessons! Remain faithful and endure in this Truth unto the end!!!! Matthew 24:13!!! WAKE UP MY PEOPLE!!! Romans 13:11

BISHOP AZARIYAH AND HIS BEAUTIFUL FAMILY!!!!

“THE REAL SUPERHEROES: HEBREW ISRAELITES”

Written by Dr. Azariyah Ben Yosef

The greatest secret that is being kept in the world today is who the real children of God are. An important fact is that there is a real agenda aimed at Black Americans who are the only ones that are being targeted through the Western World’s Eugenics program. An agenda set forth by what the world calls the Illuminati. According to the Bible they are identified as the Synagogue of satan (Revelation 2:9 and 3:9).They have been the enemies to the Children of God since the Grecian Empire under Alexander the Greek. Unwittingly, they have been fulfilling Bible scriptures foretold by The Most High God of Israel (Genesis 3) to attack and destroy God’s Chosen Seed who remains in the earth today. This warfare has been spiritual, mental, and physical on all levels (Ephesians 6). They have used various tactics such as religion, that traces back to Ancient Babylon. This Elite has been behind the political, religious and educational system set to destroy the Children of Israel. The whole world has been behind this conspiracy against God’s children (Psalm 83). They in fact have always known who the true children of God are. The Children of God are in fact Negroes (Deuteronomy 28:68). This fact goes against all religious teachings, because we have been brainwashed into a satanic governmental system that is based on lies and is in fact committed to keeping the true identity of the Children of Israel a secret. This governmental system was identified publicly by U.S. President George Bush in the 1980’s -as the New World Order. A political masterplan that was originally set in place by the Egyptians. Which is why America models everything after Ancient Egypt (Exodus Chapter 1). These Illuminist powers used the blueprint of Ancient Egypt to systematically destroy the Children of God since their downfall after King Solomon’s reign. When they fell as a people they were enslaved by their enemies who are what the world calls Europeans today, but they are in fact what the Bible calls Edomites. These Edomites are in fact Caucasians according to the Bible, White people are the main enemies to the children of God. These enemies of God whitewashed mankind’s true history and the historical records of the Israelites. All in a coordinated effort to hide the real identity of God’s chosen people. They have used World Wars as a pretext to steal their homeland in 1948. The Jewish-Israeli people are in fact Romans and Jewish converts -not the true Jews according to the Bible and not of the bloodline of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. How could this happen? You may ask. Well the Bible answers that question. The Nation of Israel fell as a people due to disobedience to God’s laws, statutes, and commandments (Deuteronomy 28:15). This disobedience to their God (whose name is AHAYAH “I Am”), caused them to suffer curses that will plagued them forever and is a sign of who the real Jews are and how they will be scattered throughout the earth. During the 1600’s White Europeans saw an opportunity to take advantage of their downfall by conspiring with other Gentiles, such as the Africans to kidnap Negroes who are Hebrews and sell them into slavery. It is a common misconception that all Black people are the same. In fact they are not all the same, in truth the Black race is the most diverse race on the planet. Only the White race is all the same, this information has been proven by Anthropologists and History scholars around the world (Zondervan Bible dictionary). One may ask how did this race war between the Children of God and the Caucasoid hybrid race began. It was prophesied by the Most High in the Book of Genesis Chapter 3. When Eve betrayed her husband and made a covenant with satan. Satan promised her knowledge and power which is the reason why the world exalts women today (“Feminism” and Goddess worship), which is an abomination to God! A spiritual and racial battle was set in place when God told satan that there will be enmity (strife) between satan’s seed and God’s seed. Which means satan has a seed in the earth that is committed to destroying the seed of God (Genesis Chapters 25-27). This ancient battle was set in motion before the Great Flood during the days of Noah and resurfaced again with the birth of Jacob and Esau -two distinct nationalities (which means two different races of people). The descendants of Jacob became the children of God. The descendants of Esau evolved to become the Greco-Roman Empire. Esau’s lineage which is the seed of satan, officially put their plan in action to exterminate the Children of God in 70 A.D. When they laid siege against Jerusalem and forced most of the Hebrews to flee into Africa. This record is recorded in the books by the historian Josephus and the book “From Babylon to Timbuktu”, as well as many other historical records. The Hebrews a magnificent race of people that ruled all of Africa and before and after the downfall of the Roman Empire they ruled over Asia and Europe! According to historical records and in and outside of the Bible the Israelites continued to sin against their God. Which forced The Most High, AHAYAH to allow His children to be enslaved by their enemies time and time again and scattered them throughout the four corners of the earth. Which led to their final downfall during the Arab and Transatlantic slave trades. This takedown would begin a Gentile Coalition to set in place a plan of Eugenics and a system of perpetual slavery to keep the Children of Israel from ever becoming a nation again. Which is the real reason why America was established as a nation. The Romans became Jewish converts and financed the slave trades and created a western world society that became an extension of the Roman Empire (a “Rebirth”). Through this political and religious system they would keep the Children of God in constant physical and mental darkness. This system is called Zionism and Freemasonry. As identified by masons like Albert Pike in his book ”Morals & Dogma”. This elaborate plan would involve America’s most celebrated icons. Who in fact are not heroes but satanists. People like George Washington, Willie Lynch, Margaret Sanger, and Uncle Tom Negroes like Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks and Jesse Jackson. The children of satan also set up a partnership with Negro religious and political leaders who were famous sellouts for bringing forth their New World Order agenda, to keep the Children of God in bondage in the New World which is called America! During the course of 400 years, this country has successfully carried on its racist and genecital conspiracy against Negroes to victimize them with poor housing, putting drugs in Black neighborhoods, promoting abortions, demonizing Black men, and forcing integration with White people and their institutions, and flooding the prison system with Black men due to false arrests and corrupt police departments. Which is why the American political and legal system has been encouraging the unlawful shootings and public executions of Black men all across America. Which is fueled by the Donald Trump Administration, which is the reason why the President and United States Congress is in agreement with building a border wall. They are fulfilling Bible prophecy listed in 2nd Esdras chapters 13-16. Their ancestors, the Romans did the same thing in 70 A.D when they set up a wall to starve out the Hebrews in Masada. The exciting and troubling times that are happening in America today, is in fact Bible prophecy being fulfilled before our eyes! Donald Trump’s true mission is to carry out the agenda carried on by Roman the Catholic Church. Which is why America is ramping up social immorality throughout the earth such as homosexuality and other sexual perversions like sodomy and sex trafficking. These are the vices that the Roman Catholic Church supports, which is why the news media is always revealing sexual perversions that Catholic priests are routinely involved in and being accused of. The enemies of God know who the real Jews are and are committed to enforcing a perpetual cycle of sin in America so that the Negroes who are Hebrews could never rise and come together or be a nation ever again. In conclusion, the solution to this growing problem is for Hebrews to return to their God YAHAWAH (or “YHWH” -YAHAWAH), obey His commandments, repent of their sins and be baptized in the name of the Father, and the Son, and The Holy Spirit (Matthew Chapter 28 and the Book of Acts Chapter 2), and separate from Gentiles. The greatest mistake of Hebrews in America ever committed was to listen to evil women who were sellouts like Coretta Scott King, Rosa Parks, and Cynthia Mckinney who pushed for integration and for Negro women to be leaders when the Black men were supposed to be the leaders of the Black race. Integration, mixing with Gentiles, and Feminism are an abomination according to the Bible. I highly recommend watching the historic documentary films: “Hebrew or the so called Negro” and “Hebrews to Negroes”. The truth that Negroes are the real Jews, and the Awakening of God’s Chosen people is spreading all over the world! If you are a Hebrew, I sincerely hope that you take part in this glorious Hebrew Israelite movement. Repent from your sins and return to The Most High -God of the Israelites, so that The Lord our Messiah (whose name in the Hebrew language is “YASHAYAH” or YAHAWASHI) can return and put these evil Gentiles who are our enemies into subjection and return YAHAWAH’s Chosen Remnant to their former glory as the true NATION OF ISRAEL (Book of Revelation Chapter 7)!

8/15/2020

augustaisraelites

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davidcampiti · 5 years ago

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OLD FRIENDS

When I entered Warwood High School, ninth grade, most of the kids I was friends with at Corpus Christi School, like Mark Michaels and Christine Galloway and Tom Schroeder, went off to Wheeling Central High. So I felt like a fish out of water until I connected with the likes of Mike Darby and, around the same time, this funny smartass kid Scott Rockwell, who sat in the back of Spanish class and made a smart remark to me about collecting comics.

It turned out Scott wasn’t berating me for it; he and his brother Doug were comics fans, too. We joined the Journalism Class together and were soon contributing to a lot of the school newspaper. We became the best of friends, and I spent chunks of nearly every day hanging out with them in the basement of his home. We shared comics to read, had similar joys and similar complaints, and we wanted to become comic book professionals — him drawing, me writing.

I recall trying to get a portfolio of original scripts and art off to Marvel one summer day. We were pedaling our bikes as fast as we could to get to the post office before 5 pm. It was like life-or-death important we get that thing out to them that day. We shipped original art; it never occurred to us to mail photocopies. Scott crashed his bike into a parked car. “Go on! Go on!” He yelled, waving me to get to the Seventh Street Post Office in time. The portfolio was rightfully rejected; we weren’t ready. So we wrote fan letters, many of them quite critical of the sub-standard comics we read. We knew they could be better, but we at the time hadn’t lived our ives enough to do them better.

In 1975, I had my driver’s license, and Scott, Doug, and I went to our first comics convention — PittCon! — run by Ben Pondexter. Other people sharing our interests! Plus we’d get to meet real, working comics professionals whose names we’d recognized! It was a heady experience.

As we wandered through an art display, a canny mix of fan and professional artwork, we saw Marvel editor-in-chief Marv Wolfman talking to a tall young kid with a strong Pittsburgh accent, who looked quite a bit like a teen John Travolta. “Marv! My brother Marc drew this! Whaddaya think? Whaddaya think?” He was gesturing toward a pair of pieces of art — one was a Tarzan illustration, the other a published Marvel Spider-Man page.

Marv stroked his beard and said, “Well, it’s not too bad,” he said. “Spider-Man’s perspective’s a little off and the faces could be better. A bit more work, and he might be professional some day.”

The tall kid burst out with the loudest, most infectious laugh I’d ever heard. “Marv! My brother drew the Tarzan page. You just critiqued a PUBLISHED Sal Buscema Marvel Team-Up page!”

As Marv ducked away, embarrassed, we stepped up and introduced ourselves. The kid was David Lawrence, with whom Scott and I developed lifelong friendships. We sent each other comics and scripts we wrote, and Scott drew dozens of cartoons -- all in-jokes -- on manila envelopes that we mailed practically every month.

There’s a picture somewhere, maybe in Scott’s files, of him and me posing with Stan Lee at West Virginia University in ’78, where Cynthy Wood took a picture for us. As the photo was shot, Scott was saying to Stan, “Smile, and look as much like our Uncle as you can.”

Scott and Dave and I made a vow, which ever of us got into the comics business first, we would bring the others with us. A few years later, me being the most headstrong, I got in first. I brought Dave and Scott with me. David Lawrence developed the mega-popular series The Ex-Mutants and its spin-offs, and I brought in Scott as a designer, art director, writer, cover artist, and colorist. He was a talented guy.

Scott and Dave lived together for some months while we packaged comics for various publishers from my Campiti & Associates office in Warwood, WV. In later years they wrote stories together. We all wrote stories together, in fact.

When I launched Innovation Publishing in ‘88, of course both Scott and David were a part of it. Scott was briefly art director before becoming a writer and colorist for the company; I even hired Scott’s Dad to color for me. You’ll see Robert Rockwell’s name in the credits of some early Innovation books. Scott and I wrote issues of Dark Shadows together. Scott and Dave wrote issues of various Ex-Mutants and The Lunatic Fringe and Overture and other projects together. Some of the things David Lawrence wrote, like Hero Alliance scripts, Scott colored those. Although Dave lived in Pittsburgh and Scott and I lived in Wheeling — a good 75 minutes away with a good tail wind — we never really seemed to be apart.

When I left Innovation in ’93 to launch Glass House Graphics, Scott Rockwell and David Lawrence were both was part of it. Dave has been writing projects through Glass House on and off for decades, officially becoming a movie screenwriter and a New York Times best-selling author in the process — in fact, he’s writing a new project now.

Scott wrote and colored projects with me until about 1995, when his life changed via a gal he’d met at Innovation. He drove me to the airport on his birthday on July 13, 1995 for a trip I was making to Brazil. It was the last time I saw Scott, though he called me once a few years later.

When his favorite book series The Lord of the Rings came out as movies, I sent him a card with a Ring of Power engraved in Elvish; I sent him an invitation to my wedding in 2001. He did not respond or attend. I learned he had essentially become a hermit, rarely if ever venturing out of his home and working mainly on paintings for private commissions to pay the bills. Even David Lawrence had not seen Scott face-to-face in years, as hard as Dave tried to keep in touch with Scott.

He had almost no internet presence, so I tried my best via mutual friends to stay current on his life. Every time I returned to Wheeling to visit family, I’d bring along a stack of books I’d written — such as Stan Lee’s How To Draw Comics, which I wrote to sound like Stan for 240 pages; I figured Scott would appreciate that. But I could never manage to connect with him, despite the best efforts of David Lawrence and of Jeffrey Burton, another great and mutual artist friend since our college years.

I was scheduled to fly back to Wheeling over this past weekend to attend my high school reunion and hoped to try again to see Scott; I had to cancel the trip last minute. Had I gone, I would have still been in Wheeling today.

And today I learned that Scott Rockwell died of a massive coronary at 61 years old.

We did not see each other in decades, but I will cherish those many years of friendship, of humor, of deep affection and camaraderie that we shared, from kids who thought we knew it all to established professionals who did finally know most of it.

I would never have tried to become a professional writer, or book packager, or a publisher, or even an agent, if Scott Rockwell hadn’t been there at the beginning. He inspired me; I brought him along into the business. We shared many joys and sorrows and ups and downs.

I missed you for the past 20 years, and I’ll miss you even more now. I think you really would’ve liked my books, Scott. And I think you would’ve adored meeting my wife Meryl, telling me I finally got it right.

And David Lawrence? You better stick around a fucking long time, goddamn it.

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theincorrigiblemagpie · 7 years ago

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Rishton Ka Chakravyuh (Episodes 1-6)- Much Mahabharat Very Family

Aug 7, 2017 to Aug 12, 2017

HELLO! I, indomitable watcher of desi soaps, am cautiously trying out Star Plus’ latest offering: Rishton Ka Chakravyuh after my last 3-episode-long-unnameable-adventure in this neighbourhood. I’d seen the promos floating around and found myself interested despite this really not being my usual fare. For one, the selling point isn’t a romance (shocker!), but also the fact that its milieu isn’t one I particularly enjoy. Nonetheless, I decided to give it a shot and found myself hooked. It’s a week old and I ran through 6 episodes without any trouble at all. I’ll try to touch only on the most pertinent bits since I’m covering 6 episodes together, but strap in, this is going to be looooong.

Our story begins on a stormy night, in a haveli, where a woman’s agitated screams indicate gruesome murder or labour. No good ever came of a haveli and you can mark my words, kids. #EatTheRich It turns out to be labour and seconds after, a heavily veiled woman (Payal Nair) makes off with a baby into the dead of the night. She evades all the security around the haveli and makes it to a ghat-type place where a priest is waiting for what seems to be a pre-planned rendezvous. Then, without too many words, she hands over the baby to him and drops Ominous Hints about how she’s being forced to give this kid away because it’s a girl. The priest is troubled but takes the child, and once the woman leaves, looks at her palms under the moonlight and declares that she’s going to be SO COOL when she grows up that he doesn’t even know what to name her that will be fitting. So he names her Anami. For real. I’m sure all besotted new parents feel this way about their new babies but this is just lazy. You’re a pandit, you have casual access to the world’s Sanskritized highfalutin names. And you go for The Unnamed. Ok then.

In the meantime, the haveli is rejoicing over the birth of a little boy to Satarupa (Narayani Shastri) and Vikram Aditya Singh (Ajay Chaudhury). The Dadaji, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the MDH guy, is ecstatic about the birth of their ‘waaris.’ Tell me they don’t give you #SameGuy feels.

This show is just determined to fuck over its young people in the matter of names, because they name the boy child Vatsalya Vikram Singh. As the bearer of a somewhat difficult-to-pronounce name, I really feel for both Anami and Vatsalya. It’s evident that they’re twins, but as Vats, the boy, is heir-apparent to this medieval family, it’s unclear why Satarupa and Damo had to secretly get rid off Anami.

We’re also introduced to the Evil part of the family, Pujan Singh (Praneet Bhat) who calls the Dadaji ‘Chachaji’ and his smirking wife. This really amplifies the Mahabharat feel because Praneet Bhat still has a Shakuni Mama hangover from Starbharat and is the Most Extra dude imaginable. He breaks into enthu-boys-at-visarjan-style dancing at any given opportunity and is all about the band-baaja. He’s obviously not happy about this waaris business but pretends to be. We also see a toddler who runs out from inside the haveli but gets a really Stern Look from Dadi (Anju Mahendra) and is reluctantly dragged back in by a nurse. Oh, and their family priest is played by the long-suffering Tom Alter. He definitely has a hand in this giving-Anami-away business although he seems like a benevolent sorta babaji.

Then we flash forward 17 years into the future. Anami has been brought up by Pandit Murari Pathak and his wife Madhu (Lubna Salim aka Leela Bhabhi from Baa Bahoo Aur Baby), along with their own little boy Laddoo who seems to be about 8 or 9 years younger than Anami. Anami (Mahima Makwana), of course, is the main protagonist of this show. She’s an industrious little busybody who struts like she owns Varanasi, in her dhoti pants, embroidered blouses and jackets, and Mahadev/sadhu-style dreadlocks. I wasn’t too sure about the hair in the promos, but I think it works. It's obviously a part of her non-conforming person. She practices some form of dancing+martial arts in the morning, picks on her mom whom she lovingly calls ‘Paagal Panditayin,’ saves hapless devotees from fraudulent babas as a representative of her dad’s Gyan Vigyan Bhagwan initiative, tends to her chores, and picks on Laddoo for not preparing enough for his upcoming admission test to an English medium school, all before midday. Just typing this list exhausted me.

The only drop of sorrow in her cup is that she’s adopted and must live with the fact that her biological mother gave her away for her selfish reasons. It’s interesting how this bothers her because her adoptive parents obviously love her to bits, but then you see that the Paagal Panditayin is not above twitting her about her adopted status when she loses her temper (like she does when Laddoo accidentally falls into the river while accompanying Anami on one of her missions). She regrets it immediately and goes to comfort Anami but this seems to be a longtime wound that can’t be undone. As a side note, this show is really gorgeously shot. I’m trying to keep screencaps at a minimum to prevent this ridiculously long post from becoming even longer but the lighting and camerawork here kinda make me want to shove this show into Gul Khan’s face. This show is already Sharmaji-ka-beta to 4Lions.

Ngl, I hadn’t expected to like Anami much (mostly because I’m not a huge fan of Mahima Makwana from whatever I saw of her weepy character in Sapne Suhaane Ladakpan Ke) but I’m very favourably disposed now. She certainly is young and brash in many ways, but also practical, contemplative, and mature.

Scene switches to Lal Mahal, situated in the vaguely-named Vihar which we learn is near Delhi. The Singhs are royalty there although their economic power derives only partially from whatever princely state position they presumably held pre-Independence. The real power comes from their Royal Steel Holdings company which is apparently a massive enterprise employing thousands of families in the area. And now, I really have to introduce you to Satarupa, the Motherest Mother of Them All. Here is Satarupa casually using a sword to slice her thumb open and offer her own blood as chadava to Kali as part of her son’s 17th birthday celebrations before using the same bloody thumb to give him a teeka. This is after a two-day fast, btw.

Man, for my 17th, my mother took me and a bunch of my friends to KFC and called it a day. (Ily, mommy, I wouldn’t have had it otherwise.)

You knew right from the start that Satarupa is not a person with many fucks to give but this casual establishment of Intense is kinda awe-inspiring. Mostly cos it’s Narayani Shastri, I think, who is a very formidable presence onscreen.

Side note: Both the Pathaks and Singhs are primarily Shiv devotees. Desi tv never fails in their tropes. You can tell so much about a show/family by the gods they worship. As a rule of thumb, the more intense the families, the likelier they are to worship Mahadev. Whereas YRKK and DABH-like families worship Ram-Sita or Radha-Krishna.

Old Dadaji gets up and announces that he really is too old to be chairperson of the company anymore (damn right, you look to be 105). And although he has always believed in keeping the family and business separate, he thinks the most capable person to succeed him is 17 yo Vatsalya (Devarshi Shah who looks disconcertingly like an older Darsheel Safary). Excuse me while I take an eye-roll break. Someone set Kangana Ranaut on this uncle who is trying to tell me that the only and most capable person in the vicinity is a boy who can barely grow a beard and who just happens to be his grandson.

Another side note, can we retire ominous chantings of saam-daam-dand-bhed as background score? I promise we’ll all still figure out who the evil schemers are. Predictably, Pujan Singh, his smirking wife, and his now-adult asshole son are Not Pleased. We learn that Vats’ dad had done something to displease Dadaji and has de facto been disinherited although he’s still very much a part of the family. Methinks this has something to do with the hidden-away toddler in the beginning. Man, there are too many secret children already for one show. So basically, Satarupa and Pujan are named caretakers of Vats’ legacy until he comes of age in a year. Meanski this Dadaji is just asking for Vats to get murdered. Why dafuq couldn’t he have named the very intimidating Satarupa successor, no one knows. No doubt it has to do with more bullshit about being a woman.

I will say in Vatsalya’s favour, he’s not happy about this situation and doesn’t think he’s ready or deserving. The fam decides to head to Varanasi where they traditionally have a puja for any new heir. We get some inkling of how Vats seems to be a genuinely nice kid despite all this money and spoiling. Satarupa is an affectionate but strict mother. They have this really sweet mother-son thing of singing old Hindi songs to one another and man, can Narayani Shastri sing.

This really brings home how weird the Anami situation is. Satarupa is a fond and doting mother but also fiercely protective of her son. I don’t really see her giving up her daughter just because it was a girl. When she already has a son too.

We make progress in the case of the Mysterious Toddler. It’s a guy called Narottam who lives in the same house but everyone seems to loathe him except Vatsalya. Narottam calls Satarupa ‘Chhoti Ma’ and Vikram ‘Papa’ and they both vehemently deny any relation and can’t stand the sight of him. It’s only on Vats’ insistence that he is allowed to accompany the family to Benaras. Also, the guy’s body language, tone, and a comment made by Pujan’s son Avdhoot make me think he’s possibly trans or gay or just likes to cross-dress. In Hindi soaps, it’s hard to tell the difference among various kinds of queerness. I’m thinking he’s Vikram’s illegitimate son but why he’s such an asshole to Narottam is a question. Satarupa and the family’s resentment I still understand (even if it’s a terrible thing to have brought up an innocent child amidst this hostility). But Vikram’s I don’t. I don’t like Vikram, I think.

They head to the ghats and have their showy puja and stuff and of course, Anami and Vatsalya come face-to-face. Anami, who hates her birthday for being a reminder of the mother who gave her up, is already in a bad mood and none too pleased with the huge puja which is blocking access to her priest. Anami snips at Vats but he takes it in his stride and is polite. I like this boy more and more.

(please note Tej Khan in the background who is Vats’ bodyguard and also part-time Sid Mallya lookalike)

You know the Extra is hereditary because Anami apparently floats a diya into the Ganga every year to signify that she tyag-s her birth-mother the same way birth-mother gave Anami away. That is an awful lot of bandwidth to waste on someone you’ve never seen. Also, I have to say, how convenient that she hates the birth-mother and not the birth-father. Granted, her birth-father is a wet dishrag but she doesn’t know that. How does she assume it was the mother’s fault? For all she knows, the father made the mother give her up which is really the most common way this shit happens in India. I see your internalised misogyny, Anami. No matter how picturesquely you hold a diya against the Ganga.

Lots of things happen together after that. Damo sees Pandit Murari and recognizes him as the priest she gave Anami to and hides from him but then is guilt-wrought. She runs to Tom Alter for advice who reassures her that she has committed no sin and that the sacrifice was necessary. He gives her a rudraksh bracelet to protect Vatsalya with. Avdhoot and his drunk friends make Narottam dance to Namak Ishq Ka in a very humiliating manner. Pujan hires a gunda to do away with Vats before they leave Benaras. And we know that Satarupa did not happily give up Anami.

They have their pagdi ceremony and Dadaji impresses the responsibility of the position on Vats. Here’s an idea, maybe you shouldn’t leave the livelihood of thousands in the hands of a 17 yo, Dadaji. But I want to take a moment to address how soberly dressed this family is, including the Evils. After the monstrosities I see across the board these days, this show is so easy on the eyes, I almost cry.

On the other hand, Madhu is mad at Anami for being such a party-pooper about her own birthday (justifiably so). Anami confesses that this day always brings up more questions than she can handle and that’s why she hates it and there’s nothing anyone else can do to help her. She does reaffirm that no one can take her away from the Pathaks, though, and runs off to the ghat where she meets Vatsalya who also feels suffocated under the weight of expectations on him. They discover their shared birthday and chat about mothers and philosophy as 17 yos are wont to do. Really, these kids grow on me all the time.

Whilst sharing their existential angst, a couple of mercenaries attack Vats from under water. They try to pull him under and drown him but Anami fights them off until Tej Khan appears and manages to save both of them. Vatsalya gives Anami his protective bracelet out of gratitude and tells her that if he had a sister, he’d have liked her to be like Anami. After the two return home, Tej Khan and Satarupa set out to catch the gundas, Tej having actually seen the face of one. After realizing they can’t give them any info about who had hired them, Satarupa ruthlessly orders their drowning and the family returns to Lal Mahal.

Anami’s next project is Laddoo’s admission to an English medium school for which she does her best to teach their parents and Laddoo enough English to ace the entrance test. Back home at Lal Mahal, Vats wants to be allowed to return to his hostel in Delhi for two months to clear his final exams but Satarupa is adamant. She will not let Vatsalya out of the house until she can send him to the States for college. I’m so confused as to how their world works. No college in the world, no matter how much money you have, is going to accept a student without a high school diploma of some kind. She’s like “we’ll send you earlier than I’d planned to.” Halwa hai? And what is the guarantee no one will send assassins after him over there? This blind faith that desis have in America’s supposed magic ability to fix all their problems is a disease. Vats is really mad that he’s going to be housebound for the foreseeable future and is perfect bait for Pujan to instigate. Goaded by his uncle, he runs away to Delhi and actually makes it halfway there until we realise Tej Khan was tailing him all along and after some momentary panic at home, has orders from Satarupa to bring him back.

Listen, I want to know which agency they hire security from because it seems to be the only one in tellywood which is able to do its job. That’s twice Tej Khan has saved Vats’ life in like 4 episodes.

Unfortunately, Laddoo does not make it to the school, even when Anami tries to get him in via the sports quota and even more unfortunately, on the way back to Vihar, on Pujan’s orders, a truck rams into Vats’ car, killing him and Tej.

*sigh*

I knew this was coming, of course. The promos made it obvious. There has to be an even more compelling reason for Anami to be brought back to Lal Mahal than there had been for her to have been given away in the first place. But I have to say it was still a blow. Even though it’s only been 4ish episodes, this boy was delightful. Despite his money and surroundings, he was sweet and considerate and respectful towards everyone, including Narottam whom his entire family despises. All he wanted was to be allowed to finish high school and play his guitar and hang out with friends. And he was on the fucking phone with Satarupa, singing Hai Apna Dil Toh Awara, and his mom heard the accident happen. *sobs* I’m not crying, you’re crying.

Anami’s bracelet, the same protective one given to her by Vats, snags on a corner and snaps at the same moment and Anami is very rattled. In true desi tv style, she’s got a Feeling. Just like Madhu and Laddoo had about losing her on her birthday. And Vatsalya had about Benaras completing him in some inexplicable way. What would the Feelings industry do without desi TV? She tries to restring the bracelet but goes through the day feeling restless and heavy and talks to her Dad about how she wishes she could understand her own feelings. #SamePinchAnami Listen, I’m really here for this shows functional parent-child relationships (of course, before we get to the elephant in the room that is Anami-Satarupa’s relationship). Like, Satarupa and Vatsalya were adorable and half the impact of his death is felt through Satarupa’s loss. And Anami has really great individual relationships with both parents. (No one cares about irrelevant Vikram and his periodic declarations that he’s proud of Vatsalya.) Even Pujan and Avdhoot are equal partners in Evil. I just can’t harp enough on how rare it is to see honest parent-child conversations about fears, insecurities, dreams on desi TV.

Heavy mourning at Lal Mahal, with the family remembering their individual relationships with the sunny Vatsalya. One moment of confusion where some rando calls Vats’ dad Baldev but I swear he’s been called Vikram all along. Like, is he that irrelevant that the show can’t be bothered to get his name right in the 6th episode? Obviously, it’s too early for me to have formed any kind of attachment to this show or its characters but I find myself dearly wishing that Vats and his budget Sid Mallya bodyguard miraculously survived the accident and are being hidden away by Satarupa as she gets to the bottom of this (since we saw no cremation). He was a good kid. We need more of those and fewer angry assholes on TV. In between the mourning, we’re introduced to Sudha (Sangita Ghosh) who is the main antagonist, wiki tells me. Toh this Pujan and his family are just ainvayi, I suppose, in case villainy kam pad jaaye.

Sudha appears to be a dreamy airhead only invested in her toilette at first glance, but then she rapidly exhibits changes in emotion that would put a mime to shame. She sheds a few tears over the news of Vats’ death, saying that it’s so unfair that the sins of the elders have been visited on an innocent boy, and then instantly cheers up because tears would mar her beauty and she can’t really bring herself to feel sorry for anyone at Lal Mahal (didn’t I tell you that nothing good ever comes of havelis?) She definitely has some deep-seated hate for that place and its people. I don’t know if she’s Narottam’s mother, but that is a possibility. She’s wearing her saree the Bengali way and something about her surroundings hint at her being a courtesan. But I just want you to stop for a minute and appreciate the beauty of these shots. #crie

Back at the haveli, Satarupa, in her grief, tries to shoot herself but I’m not worried she will because LOL that is not how this works. The most interesting reaction is Narottam’s. We see him lying on Vatsalya’s bed with tears rolling down his face, but then he gets up and puts on Vats’ favourite jacket and talks to the family photographs lining his walls. He says Vats never really appreciated what it meant to BE Vatsalya Vikram Singh but he, Narottam, does-- it’s all he’s ever wanted to be, and you can sense that there is this conflict between his love for Vats and his resentment for what Vats had and he never will. I have no idea why he doesn’t leave Lal Mahal where he’s so vilified nor why the family allows him to live there. It would’ve been the easiest thing to have sent him to a boarding school and made him live elsewhere all these years, but they did not. God, I’m blown by the writing so far. I haven’t seen character-writing like this in a while.

Finally, we’re introduced to the dude who is potentially Anami’s future love interest. You’ll never guess what he does for a living. He’s a....*drumroll* COP! I definitely missed the memo that said cops are fashionable again on TV. He’s a generic looking dude called Adhiraj but he’s not godawful, even if he’s not quite standout. He definitely walks with all the swag you’d expect from a CBI cop who has just bullied his senior into giving him the Lal Mahal case which he believes is not an accident. He wants to investigate “apne tareekon se” so you just know he’s going to do some illegal shit.

Adhiraj comes complete with an efficient if slightly chirpy assistant whom he manages to chastise in their first scene for wearing perfume *eyeroll* and a background secret connection to Lal Mahal where his interest is personal.

Okay, is there anyone in the whole damn NCR who doesn’t have a vested interest in Lal Mahal? Adhiraj goes to lurk outside the place and brood at an indistinct photograph in his pocket, of a family with two young boys, taken against the same building. Matlab yeh Lal Mahal walon ne kitne logon ko antagonise kiya hai in the last 20-30 years? Where did they even have the time to piss off other people while trying to kill each other or conversely, keep each other alive? Anami’s multitasking also seems hereditary only.

It’s too early to ship anything yet but I sense potential. This fellow could work on his dialogue delivery while Anami and Satarupa work on their relationship.

Next week: Pujan is manipulating the Press and Anami is getting ready to thrash some chhichore boys who surround her bike.

There’s obviously a lot to like over here. The writing and cinematography leap out immediately. But there’s also some generally good acting all around. It definitely tends towards the melodramatic but then, which show does not, these days? I particularly am intrigued by the familial relationships and don’t actually give a fuck about Anami and Adhiraj. (I know!) I looked up the producers-- newbies Sanjot Kaur and Bhupinder Singh for Rolling Pictures and director Ashwini Chaudhary who has a few forgettable films and shows under his belt. I can’t trace any precedence but things are off to a really promising start and I’ll keep watching as long as my interest stays.

(Just please, please, please let there not be any gratuitous sexual/physical violence involved that is cavalierly treated.)

#rishton ka chakravyuh #rkc #desi tv #tellywood

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impalafortrenchcoats · 8 years ago

Text

Coming Apart On Top of You: Ch. 2

Author: impalafortrenchcoats

Chapter: 2/?

Summary:

Seokjin is trying to piece together a life while tearing down his past one brick at a time. Namjoon is fighting to build his future while struggling to handle the present.

It wasn’t a very convenient time to fall in love.

And when the skeletons in the closet are much more literal than most, the challenges of their relationship could prove deadly.

Ships: Namjin, Jikook/Kookmin, Sope/Yoonseok

Category: Hitmen + Assassins AU, Coffee Shop AU, Non-Linear Storytelling

Chapter Wordcount: 9430

Previous: Part 1

Ao3 Link: here

Journal Entry 4 (This is numbering business is beginning to be a hassle)

April 24, 2013

I am dating a Neanderthal. And I think I like it.

Over my dead body would he hear it from me, though. I seriously did not need to know manhandling is a kink I have. My days are now haunted by the idea of him tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slapping my ass as he drags me back to his cave.

It’s the muscles, I’m going to say it’s the muscles. Who would have thought photography could get you biceps like those. Maybe I’m in the wrong field. It’s probably from dragging all the camera equipments… or he’s just a gym enthusiast.

Also, general life update: In case it wasn’t clear, Kookie and I are officially going out. Fuck yeah. It's been five dates and only two disasters. A much better ratio than that tornado romance freshman year, so I’m counting that as a win.

Overall life is finally looking good, but it’s definitely time to hatch out some game plans because this isn't going to work. The situation is dire, and I just can't take it anymore.

It's been over a month. Downstairs Jimin needs some love as well.

Pros:

Kookie is bae, so bae He’s got a well paying job and doesn’t judge me for my shitty financial affairs Kookie is hot, so hot, fire of my loins (if only) He is really fun, once we hacked through the shy streak He can kiss I’m going out with a gorgeous human being who is so out of my league it’s not even funny (I am not drawing hearts because I am an adult man, I am just going to mentally note this is a heart drawing situation)

Cons:

Kookie is too bae, guy won't let me live I'm not a gold digger, how do I tell him to calm with the gifting Seriously too caliente… Mr. Right-Hand has been embarrassingly intimate with my dick, I'm surprised the guy ain't raw by now I low key miss shy Kookie. He's after my soul now, the little shit. He can fucking kiss, but my dick is still living the life of a monk I feel like he’s keeping a distance, but I want to show him how much I like him… WITH MY DICK!

OPERATION CLIMB THAT MAN-TREE INITIATED.

Will update on progress.

Side note: Entry 3 has been destroyed because even I'm too ashamed to reread the blabberings of my blue-balls.

+++

Rows upon rows of storage units lined the pier in a facsimile of a gridlock. The faulty lights which haphazardly sprinkled the layout flickered at random intervals, and the hum of their wiring was only occasionally drowned out by the lapping of the water nearby. Ayao Industries had a few warehouses with lots similar to these which generally served as housing for excess goods and were maintained by a small crew.

So much so that when three figures ran at breakneck speeds down one of the many pathways between the units toward the building of the warehouse, it was perhaps the most action seen at any of these locations. One of the slighter figures, a young woman, broke ahead, making a beeline for doors.

“Momo, get the locks! Hurry!” a feminine voice called from the second figure, who was still some distance away.

Just as Momo slammed into the door and began to work at the padlock, the clang of what sounded like an empty can being kicked across the cement broke through the night, echoing from some undefinable place in the yard. They all froze, terror apparent on all their faces.

Momo was the first to break out of the paralysis and continued to grapple with the lock in her trembling hands. The third figure finally stumbled toward the second woman, grabbing her by the shoulder. In the flickering lights of the yard, the worried face of the man was beaded with sweat as he gripped the young woman’s shoulders.

“Jihyo, listen,” he panted, “I'll try to buy you two some time, but you need to go, now. Don't look back.”

“Jeongbong!”

“No arguing. Go. It's been a pleasure working with you girls,” he smiled kindly, and shoved her forward.

Jihyo didn't have time to say much else, when the rattle of the padlock falling signaled Momo’s success with the door.

“Jihyo! Pinky! Let's go!” Momo called as she tugged the door open.

Hesitating for just a moment, Jihyo turned to give their mentor a questioning look, but when he only smiled and nodded, she had no choice but to purse her lips and move forward. Making her way to Momo, she shoved the other woman into the open doorway and slammed the door behind her.

She never looked back.

Momo’s ragged breaths rang loudly in the silence of the warehouse, “Jihyo, what about Pinky?”

“He's not coming.”

+++

Bang Si Hyuk was just finishing up with the counters, wiping down the culmination of day’s messes. He just had to put away some glasses and do another run through of the cafe before closing for the day. It was Christmas Eve’s eve, and he was definitely looking forward to closing up for the next two days. He had even sent Sejin home early. It was sweet of his nephew to keep stopping by to see how his cafe was going, but given that he's been in business going on six months now, he was a little suspect of how much of it was the man checking up on him and how much was just him trying to binge on some free coffee. Still, the man was pretty helpful around the shop and usually helped him clean up for the day, so he couldn't say anything. Considering Sejin had his own full time job and family, Si Hyuk did appreciate the extra time the man gave to his bachelor uncle.

And since he was entertaining himself with plans of how he would like to spend his nice quiet Christmas Eve before heading off to his brother’s for Christmas, when the chime of the front door signaled a customer’s arrival, Si Hyuk couldn't help but groan a little. Sejin must have forgotten to flip the sign on his way out.

Closing the cupboard he was rummaging in, he glanced at the clock they had in the back kitchen and let out an exasperated sigh. It was well past ten. The person must really be jonesing for a cup of coffee, but they were just going to have to go somewhere else. He had a date with his couch and TV tonight.

He sighed again and headed to the register, ready to tell whoever it was that they were already closed for the evening.

And he quickly changed his mind the second he caught sight of the person.

The young man was definitely a new customer. While his little cafe might be new, the majority of his customers were regulars, mostly from surrounding businesses or people living close by. And Si Hyuk can say with certainty that they were definitely not the sort of people who looked like the man who was standing in the middle of his shop.

In fact, he briefly wondered if the man was an idol. The young man was very slender, but with a solid physique, and his bleach blonde hair was pulled back into a messy short man-bun, which worked surprisingly well despite his light business attire. His business could do with a popularity boost that a picture and signature from an idol would bring.

However, he quickly shot the idea down when he got a good look at the man’s face. Sure he was handsome, but the sheepish smile he sent Si Hyuk seemed oddly calculated and unnervingly detached.

No, he didn't think this man was an idol.

Bang Si Hyuk was not a trusting man, he would be the first to admit. He didn't believe all that nonsense about all men being good, that it was only with the corruption of society that brought men to do evil. Everyone is born capable of all manners of horrendous acts. This Si Hyuk firmly believed in.

What he never subscribed to, however, was the saying that no good deed goes unpunished. No matter what evils others were capable of, he would never allow those actions to affect his own in trying to be a decent human being.

So when Bang Si Hyuk got a good look at the man and every bone in his body all but screamed that this man was dangerous, he also took a good look at the man’s eyes, and all he saw was something raw.

If this man wanted a coffee at ass o’clock in the evening, then Si Hyuk was giving him that damn cup. He clearly needed it.

Throwing on his most welcoming smile, Si Hyuk used the usual catchphrase that's gotten him enough groans to know he'll never let it die, “Hello, first time with Bangtan Cafe?”

The man tilted his head as he blinked in obvious confusion, “Do you say that to all your customers?”

Si Hyuk grinned, “Yup.”

“Do you still have customers?”

He had to laugh at that, “I'll have you know at this establishment we pride ourselves on our customer service! And first impressions are everything. We strive to give our customers an experience like no other, here.”

“Well, consider yourself successful there. You haven't said anything about your coffee, though.”

“Because it's a given. We’re the best. Nothing but the freshest brews for our lovely customers.”

For the first time since he walked in, Si Hyuk could say the man had an honest smile in his face.

“Selling yourself a bit high, aren't you?”

“What do the kids say these days? Don't diss it before you taste it? You're going to love our coffee, satisfaction guaranteed.”

“I'm pretty sure that's not how that goes.”

“You get the idea. So, what will it be?”

“What do you recommend?”

Si Hyuk busied himself turning on some of the machines, when inspiration hit, “You know what? How about I surprise you? Just answer a few questions for me.”

“Ooh! Sounds fun.”

“So, hot or cold?”

“Hot, please.”

“Any allergies?”

“Nope,” the man popped his ‘p’ when he answered.

“How sweet do you like your drinks?”

“The sweeter the better.”

“Really? I didn't take you for someone with a sweet tooth. Alright, last one, caffeine, how much can you handle.”

“I'm not planning on sleeping tonight.”

“Great! I have something in mind, then. Have a seat, it'll take a few minutes.”

The man slowly approached the counter, and Si Hyuk realized his hair looked a tad damp, and he was only wearing a button up, which was rather out of place given the snow outside. He just hoped drugs weren't involved, since the last thing he wanted to deal with before the holidays was a druggie in his shop. But again, he quickly tossed that idea out, when the man gave him a knowing smile. His confusion about the man’s dress must have shown on his face.

He had to ask, “You always go out in subzero temperatures like that?”

The man gave a short laugh and answered, “No. Actually, had a run in with an… ex, I guess you could say. She and her friends weren't too happy to see me.”

“What did they do? And what did you do for that matter?”

“We used to work together. I'm using the term ex very generously here, but basically, I was good at my job, and she was a jealous bint. Long story short, I don't work there anymore, but she’s still as annoying as I remembered.”

“And what does that have to do with your coat?”

“She and her gang of harpies made a mess of it. Some things are impossible to dry clean, so I gave it up as a lost cause. Had to rinse the shit out of my hair, too. I wasn't going to walk down the street looking like that.”

“My god! You should file a police report.”

“Nah. I don't think my pride can take that kind of blow. It's just a coat, and I doubt I'll see the lot of them, again.”

“Hm. Look I don't support violence against women or anything, but next time, if you're ganged up on, consider throwing a shove and running for it. It'll save you a coat, at least. I'm going to assume it was expensive.”

The man smiled, “I'll keep that in mind.”

Si Hyuk disappeared under the counters for a bit as he dug around for something, and as he popped back up, he continued, “Sounds like you had a long day.”

“Yeah, as far as shitty days go, it's been a bloodbath.”

“Well, I have the perfect cure for that. Ta-dah!” Si Hyuk proudly presented a steaming cup of coffee. He tried with the foam art, but that was seriously something the younger staff excelled at. He was just the coffee guy… and the boss.

The man gave the cup a rather skeptical look and indicated the foam, “What is that supposed to be?”

“It's a bunny.”

“Did it get eaten? Half its face is kind of -”

“Just drink the coffee.”

The man gave Si Hyuk a smirk that he swore was the epitome of slappable. Kids these days. No respect for their elders at all.

He watched as the man took a sip and had to gloat a bit when he saw the familiar look of surprised pleasure. Yup, he still had it, world’s best coffee brewer for you. He was mentally brushing his nails against his shirt, when the man’s voice interrupted his inner musings.

“What did you put in this?”

“I can write it down for you if you want to order it again, although you might want to have one of the more experienced staff handle it. The secret ingredients are mandarin water and coconut milk.”

“It's not much of a secret anymore, is it? But if you don't mind, I would love to have the order. I know I'm holding you up enough as it is.”

Si Hyuk shook his head, “Don't worry about it, I have to close up and clean anyway. It's nice to have some company.”

The man nodded. Both of them ignoring the fact that the tables were cleared and kitchen was visibly spotless. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, as the man sipped at the coffee while Si Hyuk busied himself turning the machines off again, but not before brewing himself a simple cup of black coffee.

When he was done, he grabbed his cup and made his way to the other side of the counter and sat on one of the empty stools by the man, “So, you look like you have a lot on your mind. Sometimes it helps to talk, you know?”

The man gave him a side smile that once again brought attention to how unusually attractive he was, before asking, “Is this part of the usual customer service? I have to say you're really winning at the one of a kind experience thing you were talking about.”

“Well, you can think of it that way, but it's the holidays. And something just doesn't sit right by this old fart to leave a young man like you stewing in your thoughts.”

He snorted, “Okay, one, you're not that old, and two, it's just personal things, nothing you can help with.”

“Who said anything about helping? My customer service only goes so far. But like I said, sometimes it just helps to talk, and I'm an old stranger. Drop your trash here and boom, you're good to go!”

The man just stared at his coffee for a while in lieu of a response.

Si Hyuk took a sip of his own before continuing, “If you don't want to have a go, you're just going to have to listen to this old man ramble. So, for Christmas, I'm going to be popping by to see the extended family, you know, my brothers, the wife, girlfriend, kids. Great bunch. But damn, if I have to hear another round of whining about misbehaving kids, I will just grab a bat and put the fear of God in them myself! This is why I never married--if you don't want to deal with baby shit, don't have the babies, is what I say!”

“They sound great, actually. It must be nice to have a large family.”

“No siblings for you?”

The man paused a moment. His voice sounded softer when he answered, “Just a little brother.”

“Speaking as a middle child, my little brother was a shit head.”

“Mine has his moments, but usually he's great. Always tries to help with the home and stuff. It’s only the two of us, you know. I basically raised him.”

“Well, I have to say I'm a bit jealous. You two sound close. Between the three of us, my brothers and I had nothing in common. I still love them, don't get me wrong, but I have mixed feelings about this Christmas gathering, let me tell you.”

“Yeah. But honestly, I wouldn't really say we had the same interests. We worked in the same company for a while. Then, he got a boyfriend.”

Si Hyuk gave the man a stern look, “I hope you didn't let something like that get in the way of your relationship with your brother. It’s 2014!”

He was pleased to see the man break out into wild chuckles, “No, no! Nothing like that! I love the kid, the both of them. Those two dumbasses deserve each other!”

“Then what happened? Sounds like you're not seeing them this Christmas,” Si Hyuk asked and immediately regretted it when the man’s face fell.

“Let's just say the company didn't approve of his choices. They ended up leaving, my brother and his boyfriend.”

“You can't sue the company for discrimination?”

“Nope.”

“Well, good for them, your brother and his guy. Sounds like a shit company, anyway. Wait, is this the same place that your ex works at?”

“Yup.”

“Fuck them. I still don't see what's your problem, though.”

The man took a big sip before answering, “They just left. One day, I get home and all I have is this note. Something about not wanting to cause me trouble. What the fuck, you know? Like, didn't I always say that they meant the world to me? That there's not enough trouble in the world that would stop me from helping them?”

The man paused and added very quietly, almost to himself, “I just wonder if I didn't make it clear enough that they’re the most important things to me, more than any job, any half-assed relationships. I would drop all of it for them.”

Si Hyuk stared, surprised at what the man was sharing, “You probably made yourself plenty clear. That's probably why they left; younger siblings are stupid like that.”

The befuddled look the man gave him would have been hilarious under different circumstances.

“Look, I don't know how it was for you two growing up, but as the older sibling, I'm sure you had to give up a lot for your brother. Considering how close it sounded like you two are, it's probably just some unnecessary guilt manifesting itself. Like for me, I love my job, but let me tell you, I needed help getting started. But did you see me going to my big brother for help? No, because I didn't want to bother the man. It wasn't until he all but shoved an envelope with a check down my pants that I realized he had already saved a fair bit of money to help me.”

“Down your pants?”

“I love the guy, but he's an ass.”

“Wow.”

“You ever tried calling him? Your brother, I mean?”

“I missed him. It's a little late now.”

“He left the country?”

“Something like that.”

“Your brother doesn't do things half-way, does he?”

“No, that he doesn't.”

“You know what, though. He knows how to get in contact with you. You'll probably hear from him in no time.”

“Somehow I doubt that, but thanks,” he leaned back to finish off his coffee and said, “Your coffee really is the best, but I really should head out now and let you close up.”

“It's no problem. And I hope the talk helped,” Si Hyuk said, then jumped up, “Oh, one second, wait here.”

He ran off to the back room, leaving the man wide eyed to his quick disappearance. When he reemerged, he had in hand a thick winter coat.

“Here, for the road,” he said, shoving the coat at the young man.

“What? It's alright, I can't take your coat.”

“It's not mine. Lost and Found. It's their own fault for not picking up their coat. And I insist. If you want, you can just bring it back later.”

“Is this your way of trying to get a returning customer.”

“You've seen through my schemes.”

“Well, with that greeting, I can't blame you for trying to keep a customer or two.”

“Take the damn coat, brat!”

The man laughed and finally gave in. He threw on the coat and headed to the door, pausing before opening it, “Oh, and sir, thanks for everything. The coffee, the talk, the coat.”

“Yeah, yeah. You give me less lip service next time and I'll consider us even. Merry Christmas!”

“To you, too.” And then, he disappeared out into the night.

Si Hyuk sure hoped he would see the man, again. But if not, he felt at least he did something holiday appropriate.

Maybe he should call his brothers tonight.

+++

Jihyo allowed Momo a moment to fully grasp the situation and Jeongbong’s sacrifice. She saw a haze of grief pass over the woman's eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was gone just as fast, and Momo nodded.

“The truck should be in the back,” she said instead.

“Let's hurry, I don't think Jeongbong can keep him off us for long.”

And with that they both took off. The warehouse itself was dimly lit, and both women had to depend heavily on the moonlight filtering through the rows of windows and catwalks above them. They were both used to working in less than desirable circumstances, but given the haphazard set up of the complex, it was much slower going than either of them wanted.

Momo was the first to see the vehicle, “I found it!”

Jihyo let out a breath, “The keys should be on the dash.”

Momo made her way to the driver’s side of the truck, while Jihyo slammed down on the button to open the gate to the driveway as she ran past.

“I got the keys; get in here, Jihyo,” Momo called, while reaching over and throwing the passenger door open.

She didn't need to be told twice, as she was already running towards it. Jihyo had just climbed into the seat, when in the distance, the unmistakable sounds of gunshots rang out. Six bursts and suddenly, things were silent again.

“Start the car, Momo.”

Jihyo whirled around to stare out at the darkness behind them. She could make out the muffled sound of gunshots on the warehouse door, and she knew the lock wouldn't hold.

“I said, start the car, Momo! What are you doing?”

“I'm trying, I'm trying! It's not starting.”

Both women jumped when the bang of the door opening sounded from behind them.

Momo desperately tried turning the key over and over, but the vehicle remained silent and dead. In frustration, she tossed up her hands and slammed them on the wheel over and over, as she gritted her teeth, “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Rather than give into her rising panic, Jihyo searched frantically around the truck, when her eyes fell on two tool boxes in the back.

“Momo, stop! Come on, follow me,” she said as she grabbed one of Momo’s flailing hands to get her attention. She nodded her head in the direction of the tools, and while Momo sent her a puzzled look, she still opened her door and followed Jihyo to the back of the truck.

“We don't have a choice,” Jihyo said while pulling the boxes toward them, “look in here and see if there's anything we can use.”

Despite her mounting horror, Momo was quick to comply. It seemed hopeless, but Jihyo was right, they really didn't have any other options right now. Besides, she was never one to argue with her leader before, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. They didn't have much time, so rummaging through the boxes was a chaotic task, but eventually, they both came away with the best of what they could make of the contents: two solid steel hammers.

It wasn't great, but it wasn't terrible.

Jihyo lamented the fact that she couldn't turn up any knives. She had always been much more comfortable with them. It was just too bad hers were broken in the earlier scuffle. The only other knife user in their group was Tzuyu and -

No, it best not to think of her, or any of the others. Jihyo gave herself exactly one second to acknowledge her grief for their loss, but this was not the time for mourning. The right to grieve was owed to the victor, and between Momo and her, she could only hope for that chance.

As they were both were having a feel for the weight and balance of their impromptu weapons, they immediately stopped and turned toward the source when soft echoing footsteps became audible. The shared a glance, and Jihyo nodded, signaling to Momo to hide and wait for her call.

Momo disappeared, melting into the shadows with practiced ease that Jihyo had to stifle a rising sense of pride for; their team was trained for stealth. Hit quickly and leave no trace behind. While they weren't the heavy hitters, they were very good at what they did, and that was the thought that settled her nerves as she, too, took position.

They didn't have to wait for long. The lean figure made his way leisurely down the central path of the warehouse. Jihyo couldn't help but feel the burn of the insult that the man was approaching them so openly. He wasn't even trying.

This burn gave way to unadulterated rage as he approached, and she was able to make out the weapons in his hands. In his left hand was a familiar M3C combat knife; the combination triple A-Titanium and Inconel blade was easily capable of cutting through skin, bones, and armor. This was the main reason why she had bought it for Tzuyu last year. It had become a favorite of the younger girl, and the two hadn’t been parted since she was given it, until now.

Even worse, in his right hand was a .45 AMT Hardballer, Jeongbong’s gun of choice.

In that moment, Jihyo truly knew what it was to hate someone with her entire being.

She was going to make him pay for this. Tightening her grip on the hammer, she waited for her chance to spring on him. Even in the darkness, it was easy to make him out with his bleached blonde hair. It was always a dead give away, and despite how many times headquarters had requested he change it to something less conspicuous, he'd stubbornly maintained the color out of spite.

There was a time when Jihyo had found the rebellion attractive, charming in a childish way. Now in retrospect, that should have been the first sign.

She waited for him to come, when suddenly, he stopped.

“So, are we really going to do this?” He twirled knife in his hand, his voice remaining light. “I mean, have I ever said how much I appreciated Pinky? Always liked a man who knows the value of my time. Saved me the trouble of coming for him, unlike you ladies.”

All Jihyo could hear was the grinding of her own teeth.

“Look,” he continued, “we all know how this is going to end, so let's skip this whole song and dance, okay? I can make it quick, for all of us, you know? Places to go, people to see, well, that's more for me. I guess it depends on your spiritual outlook, you might have places to go and people to see, too, actually.”

He always fucking rambled. Why the fuck did he always have to fucking ramble? Even now? Holy fuck, how did she forget, he basically talked non-stop that time she convinced him to fuck.

And he had the gall to tell her it was only a one time deal when she asked him why he didn't stay the night. He actually looked her in the eye and told her it was boring. To add insult to injury, he told her he was ‘cool with her telling the office he was a bad lay,’ and proceeded to wink conspiratorially at her.

Why hadn't she killed him earlier?

She was pulled out of her musings when he continued.

“So, what I'm trying to say is that we all have things we really ought to be getting to. How about we get a move on it, ladies?” He waited a moment, looking around in an obviously exaggerated manner. “Or did you want me to come to you? Because knowing Jihyo, she does seem to have a thing for letting other people do all the work. Right, babe?”

Oh, that motherfucker really had to bring it up, didn't he? That was the last fucking straw, and she was tired of waiting, anyway.

Taking advantage that he was facing away from her, she ran at him from her hiding spot, taking aim at him with the hammer. It didn't come too much as a surprise when he simply dodged her attack, but she couldn't help the mounting frustration when each of her subsequent swipes and stabs were constantly and seemingly so easily avoided. She was putting her all into each hit, but with simple, effortless body movements, he managed to negate all her actions.

They continued this pattern for a few more moves; the whole time, he wasn't exerting anything more or less than what he had been doing. And during the whole exchange, that irritating ass grin didn't move an inch, stretched wide on his face, and for the first time, his eyes were peering, unblinkingly, at her struggle. And with every missed strike, the frustration was giving to desperation and fear.

She knew she was getting sloppy, but there was a rising sense of panic with every failed hit. She flipped the hammer around to use the sharp end and tried to hook it into his calf, but he easily sidestepped her swing. This time, however, she was ready and used her momentum to follow her movement, completing her spin but standing up to dig the claw in his face.

It was shocking when this time her move was stopped prematurely, and she jerked both because of the interruption and the surprised.

Looking at the face that was now inches from her own, she realized he had at some point tucked away the gun and his free hand was grasped tightly around her forearm, while the curve of the knife was hooked around the neck of the hammer, both solidly stopping it from doing any damage.

Before she could react, he shoved her back into the shelving behind her and quickly slammed her head several consecutive times against the metal. She collapsed to the floor, momentarily stunned, and distantly registered the clang of the hammer hitting the floor.

She struggled to see through the pain when she felt a heavy foot step on her chest, so close to her neck, effectively holding her in place while stopping just short of suffocating her. She blindly clawed at the man’s foot and leg.

“Look, sweetheart,” she heard him say, “I’d love to say I hate to see things end this way, but that would be a lie.”

The clicking of the safety on the gun being pulled back was so loud despite the pounding in her ear. She struggled harder.

Her vision had just barely cleared. Above her, right over her face was the barrel of a gun, and behind it was him, smiling gently. She wished he would just gloat, just give her the villain they all deserved. But he was just smiling, an ironic and somewhat pitying smile, like it was she who was in the wrong. Coming from the man who was still drenched in the blood of her friends, her family in all but blood, she could just couldn’t accept it.

It was him, not them, not her, who was wrong.

“Do you even remember them?” she had to ask.

“Who?”

“Everyone. You’re killing every last goddamn person who mattered, and for what,” she screamed. “Your own fucking pride, that’s what. Everyone to make up for your one fuck-up. Well, you know what? Nayeon, Mina, Tzuyu, every last one of them was worth ten of him! And they never betrayed us. Do you even remember them?”

Her pants echoed through the warehouse when she was done. She didn’t even know if he was going to respond. He just kept staring at her, the hand on the gun steady. The smile was still there when his eyebrows furrowed in slight befuddlement.

“Why should I?” He shrugged.

Jihyo had nothing. There was no point. The worst was realizing there was nothing she could do or say in this situation. Tears she had been holding finally spilled over, and she looked away. She didn't need his face to be the last thing she saw.

But as she peered into the darkness, she caught the vague hint of movement in the shadows.

Oh, thank god.

“Well, if you've got nothing else to say,” he continued, “bye, Jihyo.”

She turned back to him and smiled, “Bye, Jinnie.”

She didn't blink when the shot went wild as Momo managed to hook the claw of hammer around his wrist and tug his hand out of the line of aim. The younger woman ducked under his arm and attempted a few hits, but he evaded it all.

However, he was forced to back away and Momo paused long enough between them to kick the dropped hammer over to Jihyo before zigzagging away, just as Jin began shooting at her.

Jihyo grabbed the handle and dove behind a shelving unit, scrambling away as fast as she could despite the pounding in her head and her still blurry vision when he turned the gun back on her.

He stopped shooting rather quickly, and she assumed it was either because he was out or, more likely, he was trying to save the rounds. She was just extremely grateful that the .45 AMT only had a 7-round magazine, but it didn't help that she didn't know how much he had started out with.

She found a dark nook to gather herself, when a thin hand reached out from the darkness beside her to cover her mouth. Jihyo started, but thankfully, Momo’s hand was recognizable even to her frayed mind. They didn't have time to do much else besides sharing a gaze, when the echoes of his footsteps approached.

Jihyo and Momo remained still, barely daring to breathe when Jin finally came close enough for them to strike. They shared one more look and nodded their mutual understanding. It was their last shot.

When he was in position, Jihyo and Momo moved as one. It was strange to attack like this, both women feeling the absence of the other seven weighing heavily on their conscious.

They both turned the hammer to the claw end for the strike. Momo moved quickly and attacked Jin’s legs, while Jihyo took the top. Swipe, punch, kick, block, the three engaged in a strange dance with stakes too high. Jin managed to dodge almost all of the women’s attacks, with Momo coming closest to landing a hit when the tip of her claw caught his coat sleeve and tore into it.

This caught him by surprise, and Jihyo took the opportunity to land a solid punch to his rib. Unfortunately, rather than slowing down, Jin seemed to thrive off the hits, and the fight picked up pace.

He twisted away from her, grabbing hold of Momo’s arm and tugging her forward as he did so; Jihyo made to slash at his face, but with Momo’s arm caught and his momentum tipping her forward, it was only Jihyo’s quick reflexes that stopped her, barely centimeters, from burying the hammer into her own friend’s face.

Their shock was their undoing. With their close proximity, he used it to his own advantage, taking Momo’s arm, still holding the hammer, to knock away Jihyo’s own, and sent her crashing down with a kick to the side of her head.

Her world broke into white lights and ringing, over which she could just make out the sound of Momo’s continued struggle against him. She tried to stand - she had to help, but her equilibrium was shot, and her vision was wavering between doubles and triples. She shook her head and blinked several times when she fell for the second time.

She was on her hands and knees when her vision cleared enough for her to see what was happening.

Jihyo looked up just in time to see Momo get caught in a mockery of a back hug, and he, with one hand holding Momo’s own on the handle of the hammer, forced her to bury the claw into her own throat.

The scream ripped itself from Jihyo’s throat much like the way Jin ripped the hammer from Momo’s.

He dropped the hammer and Momo’s body to step slowly toward her.

It was a hopeless sort of madness that drove her to attack. It was pointless, but she had to hit him, she had to kill him, for them. Even if she knew it was pointless and there was no chance of her succeeding, she had to go down fighting, for everyone.

She distantly noted that he had taken the knife from wherever he'd had it and was now on the offensive. Ignoring the protests of her own body, and the blood dripping steadily from her nose ever since she took the kick to the head. She grabbed Momo’s hammer as well, all the while ignoring the grisly scene of her former ally.

With a hammer in each hand, Jihyo glared at him, spitting, “You're going to pay for this.”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”

She was exhausted and hurting, and each of her attacks were getting sloppier the longer they went. With a hammer in each hand she kept trying to hit her target, but to no avail. It wasn't too long before Jin caught her left arm long enough to dig the knife into the flesh just above her elbow and sliced, severing the tendon. She ignored the clang of the hammer falling from her now useless hand, instead, spinning to swipe at him with her right. He ducked under her swing and expertly swung the knife twice, first cutting through the back of her right knee and second through the Achilles' tendon.

Her body crumpled, but Jihyo struggled to remain upright. Instead, she collapsed to one knee and turned to Jin. It was demeaning to look into his eyes and realize she didn't even register as anything of value.

Fuck him.

She glared at him as he walked toward her. Her temper was still boiling, so she made one last swipe at him. He quickly ducked away, slashing her wrist as he went. The hammer fell, and he was finally standing in front of her kneeling form. With a light kick to her shoulder, he sent her crumpling back. She could do nothing from where she lay. Every fiber of her being burned with hatred when he stood over her and tilted his head to examine his work.

Jihyo couldn't even register her pain for the rage consuming her.

“Well, good on you,” she spat, “but before you put that bullet in my head, let me ask you one thing.”

“Yes, the sex really was that bad. I was going to spare you that tidbit, but since you're so adamant, the answer is no. It really wouldn't have worked out between us. You know the spiel, it's not you, it’s me, blah blah blah.”

“Really funny, Jin. But no, I just wanted to know, how does it feel to know that he didn't trust you? I said he betrayed us, but I've got to know, how does it feel to realize, after all you've done for him, all the time you've dedicated to him, he went and chose an outsider over you?”

Jihyo was pleased to see him freeze. She continued, “Poor Jinnie. He owes you his life and what do you get in return? And good job on you for training him so well. I heard it took five teams to get them. You know you could have helped them? Oh, wait. You didn't. That stupid little boy wanted to fly on his own, didn't he? Got sick of you, probably. I really applaud him for putting up with you as long as he did. But just so you know, you may kill every last one of us, but who’s the loser here? We always had each other’s backs, but look at you. Baby boy didn't even bother to tell you he was leaving, huh? Didn't even trust you enough for that small courtesy. So I'm curious, what does being discarded feel like?”

Even in the darkness of the warehouse, she could makes out the trembling of the man. She may have not been able to get him physically, but she could take some pleasure from dealing this kind of damage. However, her satisfaction gave way to confusion when her ears picked up his familiar squeaking laughter.

“Oh, my god, Jihyo, really?”

“Huh?”

“What was that? Were you trying to play mind games or something, or were you just trying to hit some cliched speech quota? Like, are you being serious right now?”

“What are you talking about, you fuck?”

“Okay, one, you don’t get to talk about him. Unlike you, I know when I fucked up, okay? Yes, I could have helped. But I could have done more to convince him he could have depended on me, so holy shit do I realize I'm a loser. I worked with you lot, didn't I? Look, I'm not killing everyone to make up for him, it's not gonna fix shit. But it does fucking make me happy. Simple.”

He smiled at her once the laughing fit ended.

“And just so you know, just for that though, I'm going to let you in on a little secret.”

He knelt down beside her and leaned in close to whisper, “I was quick with everyone else. But just for old times sake, I'm going to take my time with you.”

He tossed the gun aside and twirled the knife, smiling brightly.

“Shall we begin?”

+++

Kim Namjoon stared at the pages upon pages of statistical diagrams, shipment logs, charts, and analytics which all essentially boiled down to the same thing: their startup was doing well enough to not crash and burn like they all feared, but not well enough to be considered stable by any stretch of the imagination. He sighed. If he were the type, he would have blamed karma. But he wasn't the superstitious sort, and that kind of mumbo-jumbo always rang too much like excuses.

Besides, it wasn't as if he had been responsible for the Ayao Industries’ failure.

Namjoon had started CYPH Inc. at the end of 2014 in the aftermath of the series of disasters that almost sent Ayao to its knees. They were fortunate to have branched out to their overseas offices, since numerous accidents and oddly unlucky investment fall throughs almost bankrupted them in their home country. They had all but disappeared with the exceptions of a few minor holdings and offices, but the vacuum that was left became fertile grounds for many businesses and other start-ups to scramble and fill.

Namjoon was nothing if not an opportunist. He had actually been in a lower, generally insignificant position at Ayao in the finance department where he dealt mostly in book-keeping. He had enough smarts to realize they were dealing in some shady practices, and possibly some questionable business ventures. At the same time, he trusted his instincts enough not to go digging.

It came as no surprise to him that the company went the way it did. He just hoped he never has the misfortune of crossing paths with whoever Ayao Industries managed to piss off. He could appreciate the efficiency and thoroughness, but with the reported body counts, and who knew how many others went under the radar, he was just thankful he was so successful in remaining unremarkable.

Namjoon had been plotting, though. He had known there was the possibility of this exact thing happening, so he had taken certain steps to ensure he could make the most of it.

One good thing that had come from the number of deaths, was that it eased whatever moral qualms he might have had about implicating a co-worker in a security breach so that he could make off with several moderate to high profile accounts. They definitely eased the transition into starting his own company, and while some had been wary of trusting someone so seemingly untested, the combination of having a clear record and just enough connections to Ayao meant that a decent amount of clients had been willing to take the risk, giving him a head start on other businesses.

As for the unlucky co-worker, he was never very bright to begin with, and if Namjoon hadn't, someone else would have taken advantage of him and probably for something much worse. The man may have lost his job, but he kept his life, which was more than what a significant portion of Ayao’s employees could say.

Namjoon had jumped ship as soon as shit started hitting the fan. The day after the death of one Lee Byunghun, he put in his two weeks notice and just prayed he would last the rest of his time there when the fire broke out a few days later.

With the young heir’s death, the media coverage was largely sympathetic to the Lee family, as was expected, but Namjoon thought the whole thing felt too convenient, too personal to be anything but intentional. This was pretty much confirmed when the fire happened, followed by publicity response efforts which effectively rewrote the events. He was well aware there were no remodeling plans, much less any reason why those men were in the building to begin with. Not like he was going to tell anyone this.

So, here he was, almost three years down the line, still struggling to make a name for himself. He didn't regret his decision, and he was well aware he was better off than most, but god, he just wished some things came to him a bit easier.

Which was why he was still working at this hour. The shipment plans in front of him were blurring together to the point of being almost cryptic when he heard his phone vibrate.

It was Taehyung.

Thank god.

He needed a distraction.

“Hello. This is Kim.”

“Yo, Namjoon, I know you have me saved on your phone, so drop the business bullshit. I got to ask you something.”

“I'm in the office.”

“Way too late in my opinion. No one’s there, don't even try lying to me. I always know when you're lying.”

“What do you want?” Namjoon sighed and gave up. It was hopeless trying to argue with Taehyung. For whatever reason, from the moment the two met in college, Tae had attached himself to Namjoon like a barnacle and hadn't let go since. Namjoon had learned through exposure that sometimes it was best just to ride out the crazy that was Tae’s schemes. Half the time they turned out pretty genius, but considering the other half were spectacular disasters, it was best to approach it all with caution.

Still, he wouldn't have started his business with him if the guy was completely mad.

“I just had a stroke of genius.” Taehyung’s whisper was so loud that it grated painfully against Namjoon’s ear from the speaker.

“Yeah, well now I'm worried.”

“No, it's true. It's real genius this time. But you have to answer me one thing first.”

Namjoon sighed and pinched his forehead in preparation, “Alright. What is it?”

“Are you asexual?”

“What the actual fuck, Tae?”

“I mean, it's cool. Some people just aren't into some things, and you're my buddy, so I won't judge, dude. Bros before… a nonexistent libido?”

“Tae. I've had sex before.”

“Well, it never seemed like you were all that into it.”

“Of course I - wait, how the actual fuck do you know that? I swear to god, if you were spying -”

“No! It's not that, man. You just seem disinterested in people. Even friends with benefits would be better than what you do.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“Well, as your friend, I have to say I am worried about you and your choices.”

“Have you been talking to my mom?”

“Maybe. But that's not the point. The point is you suck at relationships, and it's time for an intervention.”

“If this is the point where you volunteer as tribute, the answer is no.”

“Okay, for one thing, my dick is too precious to be allowed anywhere near you, and two, I have a genius, genius plan. And you will go along with it.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I would mope if you don't.”

“Yeah, you're going to have to try harder than that.”

“And I am the one who has been keeping shipment on track. If you think I won't start some shit just to fix your bachelor ways, you have another thing coming. Don't try me, Namjoon.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious.”

“You're not playing with the company!”

“I wouldn't have to if you weren't wasting your life!”

“What the fuck, Tae…”

“I'm going to assume that's a ‘yes, Tae, thank you for helping me fix my life,’ so that means, put your jacket on. I'm picking you up in five.”

“What?”

“I'm driving over. You're coming with me. End of story.”

“Where the hell are we going exactly.”

“Coffee shop. It's cute, it's small, it's delicious, you'll love it.”

“I thought you weren't volunteering.”

“I'm not, you dick.”

“Fine. See you in five.”

“Four.” Taehyung clicked the phone off with emphasis somehow.

Namjoon was left speechless, staring at the paperwork that still needed to be completed. He heaved another sigh and got up, grabbing his jacket as he left.

+++

“Well, this is a god damned mess.” Cha Hakyeon stared at the gory remains of his coworker and the other member of her team. Some days he absolutely loved his work. Today was not one of those days. An entire nine member team and their mentors were eliminated in one night, and they had no way of getting to the perpetrator.

Hakyeon was not looking forward to making the call to Headquarters.

“Should we call the police?” The trembling voice of the morning crew’s manager echoed in the grisly chasm of the warehouse.

“You haven't already?” Hakyeon turned to look at the five white faced men behind him.

“We thought it was better to call the office. These were our people, right? Gunho here recognized the man outside.”

“That was a good call on your part. Was there anyone else here, this morning?”

“Oh, no. It's a slow season, so we keep the staff minimal.”

“I see. Well, thank you, gentlemen. On behalf of Ayao Industries, I’d like to commend you for your discretion.” Hakyeon barely completed the sentence when he quickly shot four of the five men with the gun he always kept hidden but on hand.

He didn't like to use all his bullets unnecessarily, so for the last man, the frozen manager, he quickly finished him off with his team’s signature weapon, a redesigned Japanese war fan.

As the body crumpled, only seconds after the man's severed head touched the ground, Hakyeon spun the fan in a well practiced move to rid it of blood and snapped it closed. Flicking absentmindedly at some blood which unfortunately splattered on his brand new shirt, Hakyeon spared himself a moment to mentally organized what he was going to say and dialed.

The ringtone barely had time to finish, when a familiar husky voice asked, “How bad?”

“Pretty bad. The entire team is gone, all nine and their mentors.”

“Fuck.”

“On the bright side, no need to get the police involved this round. I already took care of the witnesses. There were only five workers, so we could always make up an accident, again. If they have family, we’ll just have to make sure they are well compensated. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle.”

“Let's avoid starting another fire this time. The publicity was a mess.”

“Oh, I know, sir. I am the spokesperson. However, it was unavoidable with the mess that he left. There was too much evidence to even try to clean, so a fire was our best option.”

“I agree, but this time, do try to keep things a little less dramatic.”

“Of course, sir. I also need to put in a request for our specialists for the clean-up at the warehouse. The others won't be too difficult to clean, but we’re going to need to be thorough here.”

“Do I want to know?”

“It's a mess. The upside to this was that Jihyo lived long enough to confirm his identity.”

“She survived the attack?”

“I would say it was intentional on his part. Formal cause of death would probably be exsanguination, but given the extent of her injuries, things probably got personal.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Among other things, her tongue had been removed and placed in her line of sight. He had turned her on her side to prevent her from choking on her own blood.”

“I see.”

“One last thing, sir. He had tampered with the facility's vehicle. Given that this is not his branch, I'm anxious to know how he found out about our protocols.”

“It just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it? Anything else you would like to add? I'm going to need to get properly drunk before I report this shit myself. Corporate has been on my ass since the start of this whole mess.”

“I'm sorry to hear that, sir.”

“You can keep your sorry. I need this guy taken out ASAP. How does no one have any leads?”

“We’ve put out the order, but he wasn't a part of any teams, only the kid, and we know how that turned out.”

“Don't ever mention that bastard to me again.”

“Sorry, sir. That was foolish of me.”

There was a heavy sigh from the other side of the line, then, “You let your team know? You were on the hit that night.”

“I will inform them after this call, sir.”

“Good, good. You lot have done well by me. Take care. I don't want to be burying anymore of my people.”

“We’ll be prepared.”

“You say that. Don't let hubris be your undoing.”

“I'll keep that in mind. If that is all, sir, I have a few more calls to make.”

“I'm sure you do.”

“Goodbye, sir.”

“Hm.”

+++

Journal Entry 5

May 2, 2013

It’s happening tonight. We’re going to make this happen.

By we, I mean I and the dubious involvement of one obnoxiously pushy She-Hulk, Seulji. Mind your own love life, woman! Or lack there of.

So, I'm inviting him over for dinner. We moved the goddamn TV into the bedroom. I've made a bit of the mess in the living room and kitchen, so I have an excuse to drag him to the bedroom. Seulji is staying over at a friend’s, thank you.

Condoms, check.

Lube, check.

Lucky boxers, check.

It's going down.

SPECIAL THANKS TO:

juvi-lockster, dharyism, and allourheroes for cleaning up my hot mess!

Next: Part 3

#bangtan #bts #bts fanfic #namjin #jikook #yoonseok #kookmin #sope #my fanfic #fic: coming apart on top of you #myfanfic

8 notes · View notes

coffeeselfies · 10 years ago

Photo

This is technically the “I think I need coffee,” selfie, but it’s been so long since I’ve posted that I figured anything was better than nothing.

I’m still trying to sleep through the inspiration of a very wonderful Bob Goff.

I. love. him.

But on to darker things, like my not-so-distant past!

Hahaha. So I was looking for an old assignment I e-mailed myself, and instead found a bunch of cryptic-heavy things I had texted one of my rarely used e-mails from my phone.

So of course I’m going to put them together, here, since I will probably just lose them otherwise. And because everyone on the internet loves reading the things I e-mail to, well, myself (WAIT, DO I NOT HAVE FRIENDS, WHAT IS MY LIFE). :p

4/12/12 - A veces no quiero hablar Por Nada con mis amigos. Solamente, "Hoy me dice ,estas loca, pero le esta loco a Juan!" Y mas Nada. Yo quiero hablar about cosas lejas. Ayer y Hoy hable con jean y veronika, solamente small talk primer. Pero despues, yo decido hablar about the things which I was.actually thinking about lately, the deeper layers. My thoughts were kind of awkward. Random. But I'm so glad I did, it lead to such good convos! As if, although my own thoughts or specific revelation (another one about love, of course), but led to true, sincere convos from the heart. Yes! Thank you, Lord. It's funny how I won't open up and ill get frustrated at the lack of depth in a conversation, yet really all I need to do in some cases is just jump right into the true issues. Ahh small talk kills me.

3/4/12 - He asked us a few questions: Who are you using?

How are you using them?

Physically. Sexually. Emotionally. Spiritually. Monetarily.

How can you restore that? Who's using you? Do you love money, and use people?

Or do you love people, and use money?

5/9/12 I think my id and superego are in conflict... I prefer that psychological term to saying that right vs wrong or my flesh is in rebellion, I guess. I just want to do all sorts of things that aren't of God, and i don't even know what to do. I think I need to just remember that life is short, and not about what I want. I'm getting too caught up in the worldly details, my visions going, my path, every time I think I'm expanding it, is getting more and more limited. Goodnight, from post Dave n busters with cartel, post umsl, going to school tmrw.

5/17/12 - "Can you keep a secret?" I should have realized by now that this question should be answered with fear and heaviness rather than curiosity.

5/29/12 - I dreamt that, after they thought I had left, my parents started fighting. Loudly, viciously, hatefully. I came down shouting, 'stop it, stop it!!' But their heads were already covered in blood, as I'd they were going to kill eachother. I never found out if they stopped or not, because dad called to me in real life from the other room. At first I wondered if I had really been shouting, and that's why he had contacted me, but no, it was just about bulk trash being today. Something sounds like its gnawing on something, I can hear and feel the vibrations of it through my pillow. Creepy.

6/4/12 - I have always been a compassionate person – making little houses for wounded snakes and worms – befriending the kid who’s got no one but himself for company, partnering with the girl who doesn’t really speak English. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve recognized that God has been faithful in granting me patience, mercy, and grace as well, and I know that these are not my own, but I am meant to share them with the very people God has give me a heart for – the downtrodden, broken, and outcast, and ultimately just humanity in general. This has, more or less, been my (more recent) life pursuit. To follow God’s Will for my life, regardless of where it takes me. So far that has meant giving hope to weary and often lost travelers of Amsterdam, mentoring at risk juveniles and raising awareness for human trafficking in Los Angeles, running English and Summer-School programs for Chinese immigrants in New York City, training and creating jobs for families in Haiti, as well as hosting events and creating opportunities for girls to leave brothels , learning how to run a business in Mexico while also helping out at various orphanages for disabled Children, and even just being there for my own family and friends when they’ve needed it most. It has meant months of Ministry Training schools, years of living in International Community Houses, working in roles that range from administration, to construction, to managerial, and an ever growing reliance on and relationship with Jesus Christ.I’ve been back in Saint Louis for a year now,

7/1/12 - Today started strangely, my head still a little blurry from the wine from the night before. I went to church, very late, where daren had a cupcake waiting for me. Why? Because Tuesday I had admitted I had experienced some downer bdays and he realized that it was my half birthday. Mom came, cried, we hugged, went to the church picnic.. I went home, told dad about her accident, and he just started weeping, so hard that his nose began to.bleed. I stroked his hair and.got a bit teary eyed.and then we got.on our knees and prayed... Later was feeling down and missing Luke, but jean got me out.

11/11/12 - And with your hands in the air, your feet barely touching ground, I take that smile to mean that life is finally turning 'round. And we laugh til we cry and we dance til we cant, and I feel free as can be each time I see that gleam in your eye. Then the secrets come out and its less about being blessed and more about a high. So when you're dancing I'm wondering if that's you, and when you're singing, I know you would be singing.the blues... But that gleam in your eye, well really its more of a glaze all along, I just saw what I wanted as you,strung me along.

12/20/12 -

Well the queens off her throne Hiding in a stairwell Feet strewn about the stairs Seeming barely aware That her kingdom awaits The king, divorced long ago He's crying Where's his iron fist? Seems he's traded it for sentiment "Pathetic!" He might self accuse If only his tears would let him Seems everything's a dream these days, Some hellish, some sweet But all

I used to find the idea of receiving a text in the middle of the night strange.

Now, after years of practice, I find it comforting, perhaps a reminder that I am not so alone as I would feel.

I hadn't realized this, of course, until now.

Now, when I wake up to nothing but darkness and my own thoughts.

Now, when, regardless of whether I toss myself awake at 2am or 4am, there is no message.

There's nothing to reassure me that there's another person in this world who is awake and eager to share a moment, even a small, electronic message with me.

1/11/13 - Today Gave my testimony. Adopt a block, played ninja. Eva likes hanging out with Christians. I break rules and have real convos with the disciples. Play bs. Go to angelus temple. Do food distribution. Met hosea who talked to us because he thought I was pretty, was super catholic, thought tim was my bf, etc etc etc

1/29/13 - Oh hi, I'm feeling cold and pathetic, and thought I would ... Email myself. That seems fitting. Somehow emailing yourself feels much more pathetic than just journaling. Right now I feel like I wish anyone, absolutely anyone , would sit down across from me. Even the old creepy man who, after asking a few non essential questions, left me for the warmth of the indoors, or... I don't know, a donut. Why do I feel like this.Lord? Is it because I am not so busy in school? Is it because Adam moved and despite the fact that I was barely hanging out with him last semester anyway, he was a crutch, and knowing that at 1am when I feel pathetic and lonely and confused, I can't even text someone I know would care? I mean. I know others would care. But we aren't exactly on that level just yet. What is my life? Why am I this way, and why do I want attention for it? Or why do I feel the need to find someone who would , what, save me ? From myself.? From my thoughts? Why am I seeking comfort in shallow things, the wings of friends and acquaintences and , frick, anything. Whywhywhywhy. I don't know. Is this what life is like for people? Lord, you are the one God, the only thing worth it, you are good when no one else is, am I getting caught up in things that I shouldn't, what am I even going on about? Life life life. It's all good, right

2/13/13 - (From a voice to text translator)

tomorrow I'm supposed to have an awkward cuddling session with my love scene manager and a love my phone from church I'm not sure how I get myself into these awkward situations but I definitely am good at it office tomorrow my uncle is moving in for a month but should be really awkward and I wish that I had a lock on my door and the house I'm learning that the things that I desire to have a find myself feeling empty when I do get them but I'm happy about it because it gets me clarity because it shows me that nothing else really matters is just kind of in my head really got the only thing that matters is the only thing I should pursue S I miss Adam I know you won't hang out that much before you left but now I guess I'm missing him double I don't know I don't know what I mean exactly but he's been gone a few weeks now and it's weird not having a best friend to talk to you about everything I have a lot of friends I have a lot of good friends but this is different it is different when you have someone who knows so much about you already and you don't have to tell the back story every time you tell them a new story because I already know who so I'm so is or why you feel that way or white was a bad idea that you did that so I'm also giving up ice cream and I'll call for lunch and I'm going to be time to eat a lot better subject tomorrow hopefully that I've also really just been wanting to be free of employment just live and everyday wake up and say what I want to do without help homeless people if I want to make something I want to sell another day love you babe I wanna go out with a friend I make my card I definitely don't want to spend 5 shifts a week at cartel but at the same time I don't feel like I'm self disciplined enough to not have a job I'm just getting tired of the creepers and the internet the kids off work as well as yeah I don't know ent from my HTC on the Now Network from Sprint!

8/18/13 -

Woke up really missing my dad. Go figure. Able to properly seduce emotions into a flat, shruggable denial ever since those first few days, and now, on the day I hoped to "stay strong" the most, I can't stop thinking of part of the song he wrote for Rachel, only now in regards to him - "I miss you, in the summertime.. I miss you, in the wintertime.. I miss you - all the time. I love my Rachel Sue." Only.. Daddy-o, or something. Ahhh.. Thank you, Lord, for such a kind father. Please help today glorify your name, run smoothly.. its so obvious we can't do it without you.

8/19/13 - I miss my dad. I am sad that I'll never have him burst in my room in November at three am with pancakes and lit birthday candles because he started thinking about some of the birthdays of mine he had missed, and wanted us to be able to celebrate together. I can't drink milk or even look at rootbeer without hearing him ask for some, so eagerly, and then sigh 'mmmm, now that's good,' so contentedly after his first sip. I miss that his crazy stories are not going to be things that I share in everyday conversation with my friends, because they're all old stories and it will seem out of place. who do i have to talk to about my dad? no one. it makes everyone sad. theres no one to just share his life with, aside from close family, and that will be limited. Everyone keeps telling me I'm so strong. What does that mean?I'm strong because I didn't start sobbing when I spoke? Because I'm smiling and laughing with you? Is that strength or disposition? Blake said that I was handling this better than anyone he's ever seen deal with death. What does that mean?

12/13/13

I see a sadness in your eyes.Behind the words, another message.The weight of your world becomes tangible, heavy, a thickness that weights me like a fog rolling in with, strapping invisible bricks to my body. Sometimes it's your words, blatant and straightforward, other times it's the sighs, the eyes that flash with emotion for just a moment, Did you know that's been seen? So many words, how can they be contained? I hear things you've never said, I see

1/03/14-

I've tried reflecting on 2013.. tried finding words which could somehow, miraculously encapsulate all of the growth, struggle, joy, depression, transformation, and experiences that it contained. It will be one of the most memorable years of my life, for many reasons, but it may also be one of those years that the full impact of may be lost on me for awhile now.In the past few weeks, I've been looking through journals, photos, and letters, remembering and realizing exactly how many changes this year has brought. Led my first missions trip, felt the loss of saying goodbye to one of my best friends, discovered what living with not just my dad, but my uncle Ken, five chickens, two cats, two ducks, a dog, and whoever else decided to stay over was like, became the missions director at middletree church, became an AUNT to the most beautiful little Emelia Skye, gained a new set of amazing and wonderful friends, played nurse/daughter/friend/staff member/sister/maid/hopsicecare/barista/student/leader to the point of confused identity and exhaustion, left cartel to become part of the Caife Caife family, DIDN'T leave the country for the first time in yeaaaaars, actually had to turn down exciting travel/jobs, speaking opportunities, and a leadership position with a non-profit (rather than seek them out, like usual), spent 7 months of the year experiencing the beauty, hardship, and love of caring someone who is dying in more and more ways every day, the trauma and release of my dad's actual death, the months following that are nothing but fog, sorrow, and blurred memories, the 14-state family road trip of a lifetime, moving to the Loop with Dani, experiencing being 'home for the holidays' without any actual family to be home with, and .. I don't know.. the Sara of today, who can look back on things only a year ago and find I have a whole new perspective on them. ..I only wrote one public (well, as public as it can be when I have a total of 8, predominately inactive followers) blog post in 2013, mostly talking about overcoming fear to become the person I feel I'm called to be. It was mostly inspired by revelations from the LA Dream Center trip, and I can't tell you how nice it is to be able to look back on the goals and dreams I wanted so desperately to become a reality, and to be able to say that, even through all the changes and sorrow of this year, that they were able to come to fruition. I'm not in to new years resolutions, but I do highly recommend kickstarting your year with an inspiring, transformative experience, which can set the trajectory for how you are going to live, what goals you will meet or fall short of (but still come closer to, which is still GROWTH, something to celebrate!) in the coming adventure of 2014. No matter what 2013 held, don't let fear of who you were just last month keep you from being who you want to be tomorrow. This little blog post is nice for me to re-read, because it reminds me of my fears, and what overcoming them, even one step at a time, can lead to. 2013 was a hard year for me, but it has also brought me to exactly where I feel I'm supposed to be right now.

1/29/14 - "I'm good" I wore the reassuring words like a blanket. Cover, no, smother whatever was beneath, within. Protect yourself from the cold, vulnerable words might slip thru the holes in the blanket... exposed means they can feel temperature of your meaning. Heavy, heat from the heart. you can feel their response. Pray for a warm touch, but there's always risk of icicle daggers

2/19/14

it's just that

I have a lot of thoughts

ideas, fears, ..a lot of places that I'd like to explore

But they feel so heavy when it's just me and them

feels like there’s a lot of trees to climb before i get to the clouds

and I'd like to share them with someone

who cares about them just as much as I do,

someone with just as much to risk,

who understands each side of the story.

And sometimes, I see planets in those eyes,

but have no rocketship to get me there

And I see that depth, but there's just no way to tap in

Im searching for someone to explore with

those infinite galaxies in your mind and mine.

Someone to make sense of it,

write poetry about it

but not get so caught up that it's just us - no

Always God first.

Always seeking his planets, his stars, his truth..

and maybe that's the adventure..

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houseofbrij · 5 years ago

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As many of you may have already guessed from my recent horde of posts, I went to Australia a little while back. To say that this was the best trip of my life would be an understatement, because in reality I feel as if I have come back part Australian myself. So, settle in and grab some Tim Tams (Walmart in Canada sells them you can thank me later) as I take you through all the things I saw, did, and most importantly, what I ATE.

Now I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t apprehensive about the trip from the beginning, mainly because I feel like everyone did such a great job of terrifying me about every living creature that could possibly kill me. In reality I did not see a single snake, crocodile, spider, shark, or jellyfish. So, if anyone tries to describe Australia as some sort of zoo gone wild, I think that’s rubbish (that’s Australian for garbage).

I was also apprehensive about meeting my family after what had been over 14 years. And I know it sounds funny to be scared of seeing one’s own family, but I felt that so much time had passed since we had been together that they no longer knew who I was, and the memory of the sweet child they once knew was far from the reality of the crazy parade that you all know (and hopefully love) today.

Anyways, here I was, on a continuous 16-hour flight from Vancouver to Sydney, then on to Melbourne.

Day 1: I land in Melbourne in the afternoon, and am picked up by my parents and my cousin (a Melbourne local). Sadly, due to the tight schedule of my trip, I did not get to explore the city as we drove right from the airport and began on our road trip (I’ll come back Melbourne I promise!). We headed straight towards the historic Great Ocean Road (See photos below). If you are ever fortunate enough to visit Australia, this drive is a MUST. The coastal villages nestled between seaside cliffs and white sandy beaches are one of the most spectacular sights I have laid my eyes upon. For dinner, we stopped at Lorne where I had a life changing laksa and green coconut curry at a place called Chopstix.

What do you mean standing in the middle of a highway isn’t safe?

After witnessing a sunset that I assumed was painted by Bob Ross, we headed into the Great Otway National park where we had a cabin booked for the night. The drive through this pitch-black jungle was more eventful than you would assume as we were visited by many kangaroos hopping along, baby koalas just sitting on the road, and the cleansing smell of eucalyptus following you throughout the journey.

Day 2: We continued along the Great ocean road, stopping at the 12 Apostles. The apostles are a series of limestone stacks formed by years or erosion. The place was bustling with tourists and children on school trips but no one seemed to mind the crowd as everyone was affiliated on the stunning views of the limestone cliffs and the sound of waves crashing below. We continued along the scenic drive towards Robe, where we would be meeting my aunt and uncle. For dinner we had Pizza (not like Dominos, but GOOD pizza) at The Project.

Day 3: Spent the day just exploring the town of Robe. The town is essentially a quaint seaside village filled with cute little shops and restaurants. It kind of gave off a Hamptons vibe except much smaller and with less real housewives starting fights inside artisan cheese shops (although they may have just been hiding in a bush somewhere along with all the snakes, crocodiles, and sharks I was warned about). Lunch and dinner were made at home (our Air B&B). While in Robe, we also went cheese tasting at a family owned dairy right outside of town and did a little wine tasting at a small booth set up on the sidewalk (I know that sounds sketchy but it was actually really cute). Lunch and dinner were cooked at home.

Day 4: After breakfast (more like brunch), we started driving towards Adelaide where my family lives. We stopped along the drive once or twice however it was 42 C that day so I don’t think anyone could handle being outside for more than 5 mins. Went for a sunset walk to the beach once things cooled down slightly.

We even saw Natalie Portman in her iconic role as Black Swan

Day 5-6: Explored the beautiful city of Adelaide. Went to Cleland Wildlife Park where I got to pet a koala and feed kangaroos by hand. It took all my self control to not grab one of these adorable animals and run. Adelaide is also known for its great wine country and so we went wine tasting at D’Arenberg. The winery is absolutely stunning and features a Salvador Dali museum inside the building. The wine was great too but after glass number 3 it was all a little hazy to be quite honest. For the meals, we had great Chinese food (thanks Groupon), and Pies. No, not dessert pies, but savoury meat (and vegetarian) pies that can be found everywhere in little shops called bakeries. I miss the pies.

Cute little balls of fluff. DONT try to hug one, they seem to not like that.

His name is Jay and he is my son and I would die for him.

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Dali inspired winery with a surrealist museum inside.

Day 7: Left Adelaide early in the morning and flew to Cairns. Cairns is along the Northeast coast of Australia (or as I like to call it, the cat ear. Yes, Australia is shaped like a cat’s head. I refuse to believe otherwise), and it is also labelled the gateway to the Great Barrier Reef. We actually stayed in Port Douglas which is a 30-minute drive north of Cairns and even closer to the reefs. This whole area is reminiscent of something you would see on Survivor or Castaway. White sandy beaches met with dense tropical rainforests, and the water a vibrant turquoise. Oh, did I mention the temperature was 30 C the whole time? (someone please take me back, I’m begging…)

Day 8: Started the morning by going to the local farmers market (which is a great place to find souvenirs made by local artists), followed by a full day tour of the Great Barrier Reef with Quicksilver. Now I know these tours are expensive BUT let me just tell you that they are absolutely worth every penny. It was one of the most surreal moments of my life to be snorkeling in 25-degree water among schools of thousands of fish and delicate coral. There is a reason the Great Barrier Reef is considered one of the natural wonders of the world, and I am fortunate enough to have experienced it in all its glory. Lunch was served aboard the ship. For dinner we had Thai food at Star of Siam (best Tom Yum Soup I’ve had). Something else I noticed was that Australia’s proximity to Southeast Asia meant that there was amazing Southeast Asian food (also seafood, LOTS of seafood!).

Disclaimer: not my photo. I was too busy enjoying the day, also iphone+saltwater=no.

Day 9: Spent the day exploring Daintree Rainforest. I hiked through a tropical rainforest and did not see a single snake or spider (although I did have anxiety that I would see one. To all those who scared me with stories of terrifying snakes in AUS, please message me… I just wanna talk…). Although I did really want to see a crocodile since they are really prevalent in this area (I love crocodiles I think they are very cute no I’m not crazy). For dinner we had Indian food at Sabi’s Kitchen. (Here’s a riddle for you: what do you call an Indian family that goes on vacation and doesn’t eat Indian food? They’re probably not Indian.) (I’m not complaining, I love Indian food!)

Day 10: Left Port Douglas for Cairns and stopped along the Palm Cove area where we went swimming. Later, In Cairns we had dinner at Bayleaf Balinese Restaurant. After dinner we ventured into the Cairn’s night market. I really suggest you go to this night market because you can get all your souvenir shopping done! (I may or may not have bought 10 fridge magnets and multiple t-shirts.)

Day 11: We had booked a train journey on the historic Kuranda Rail. The train ride was over two hours, and takes you up the mountain while offering sweeping views of the coastline below. At the top of the mountain is the Kuranda village which is filled with art galleries, shops, and restaurants. On the way down, we opted to take the cable car, and stopped at each of the three stops. Each stop has small hiking trails that take you deeper into the dense world heritage listed rainforest and offer spectacular views. Fun fact: this is the same rainforest that inspired the setting from James Cameron’s Avatar.

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Day 12: In the morning we explored the Cairns Botanical Gardens which feature the wonders of the natural rainforest found in the area. In the afternoon we arrived for our flight to Sydney. We landed in Sydney and were met by more members of our family. Dinner at home.

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Day 13: This was my only day in Sydney, and so I wanted to explore as much as I could! Started the day off at the Harbour Bridge, followed by a tour of the Sydney Opera House. I really recommend taking this tour as it is the only way to get inside the Opera House, plus it offers an insight into the history and architecture of the building. Later we took a ferry from the harbour to Manly Beach where we went swimming (this beach is absolutely amazing, please put it on your list. You’ve been keeping a list, right?!?) For dinner, our family took us to the Indian neighborhood in Sydney where I got to experience the best Indian street food outside of India (maybe it was just as good, who knows? I was busy stuffing my face)

The Dragon Ball Z shirt IS a fashion statment, no I will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you.

Day 14: Woke up, had brunch with the family, and then headed for the airport to return home. I did strongly consider just sneaking out of the airport and starting my life as an Australian surfer dude named Joey. Flight back home was horrible mainly because I was returning to -15C weather.

Anyways, if you’re still reading this, I owe you a beer. Let’s catch up sometime! (preferably in Australia) Till then, G’day mate!

Australian to English Translator:

AUSTRALIAN ENGLISH G’Day Hello. How ya goin’? They’re not asking what mode of transportation you’re using, probably just asking how are you. Thong Flip flops. If someone asks for these, do NOT give them your underwear. Barbie Barbecue, not the doll. Bathers Swimsuit. Beauty! Great! Perfect! Crikey An expression of surprise. Not an invitation to play cricket, although they might like that too. The “C” word Used when exchanging pleasantries between close friends and family. If someone calls you this, you’ve most likely entered the mate zone. (unless they’re angry then run) Lollies Sweets.

Australia As many of you may have already guessed from my recent horde of posts, I went to Australia a little while back.

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edc-creations-blog · 6 years ago

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Are people constantly dumping their negative energy on you? Do you find yourself bombarded with painful thoughts from your past? What if with seven simple steps you could minimize their mess and maximize your happiness? Interested? Read on…

In Family Is Not Everything: How To Minimize Their Mess, Maximize Your Happiness and Enjoy Emotional Baggage Breakthroughs, author Anita Washington details personal stories of surviving a homicidal alcoholic father, a neglectful mother and an emotionally and physically abusive brother to show you how childhood trauma turns into adult dysfunctional behavior. She includes lessons to learn from her abuse and her life-altering mistakes, along with teaching you how to use the affirmations, techniques and activities of her 7-Step Method to resolve the effects of emotional baggage and create a life of purpose and meaning. The 7-Step Method is a process of seven sequential steps she had seen produce the greatest results. It has not only worked for her and her previous clients, it can also work for you!

BOOK REVIEWS

ASwirlGirl 5.0 out of 5 stars This Book is Riveting! I finished this book a few days ago and I’m still mulling over what I’ve read. So much of Family Is Not Everything is heartbreaking and painful to read, and my heart ached for Anita. I rejoice in the fact that despite EVERYTHING that happened in her childhood and young adult-hood, Anita TRIUMPHED. She shares realistic, actionable steps that can be taken by others who feel trapped by their past or the circumstances of life. I applaud Anita’s courage and transparency in writing this book. I’ve been impacted profoundly as a result of reading this, and I know I’ll be thinking about what I’ve read for years to come.

Falexia 5.0 out of 5 stars A must read! Amazing book, hard to put down. It’s heartbreaking to read about the horrible things Anita endured, but despite what she went through she didn’t let it destroy her. This book is for everyone who grew up in a dysfunctional family, it gives you hope and inspired you to use what you’ve gone through to help others. We are taught that family is everything, yet the Word even says that your enemies will be members of your own household, Matt 10:36, therefore family is not everything and it’s okay to cut them off if it means saving your life. The book helps you under generational curses and educated you on how to be an overcome and not stay a victim. This book is going to help a lot of people who want to be free from the prison of their past, it gives hope for those who grew up in a negative or toxic environment. Freedom can be yours if you put into actions the steps Anita lays out in this book.

Sharon Lawrence, LCSW-C 5.0 out of 5 stars Brave, Resilient, and Courageous!! This book is amazing!!! It speaks for many who are afraid to share their stories of pain and trauma. Anita takes us on a journey while providing us with tools to improve our own lives with no guilt. It will teach you how to establish self-respect, set boundaries and live a free life. Thank you Anita!!!

Rhonda Dickerson 5.0 out of 5 stars Family is Not Everything!!! This book is sooo good. It is very hard to put down. After reading this book it gave me a extra push to finish my book and not worry about others opinion. I am so happy for you Anita. Thank you for allowing God to use you to help and health others. Love you!!

Charlie Latham 5.0 out of 5 stars A helpful book that gives you actionable steps to work on Everyone has traumatic events happen in their childhood and this is what shapes and molds our psychological behavior and outlook. Ultimately we all have traits we don’t like because of this, and they vary in so many ways depending on what exactly we’ve been through. For me I mainly struggle with a mixture of anxiety and emotional detachment which grew from going to boarding school at a young age. Reading this helped me analyse why I had these personality traits, dissect that a bit and deal with it. It showed me how these had formed and gave me steps that I can actively follow to change this way of thinking and behaving.

Explore Books Anita Washington

AnitaTheAuthor.com/FINEAmazon (Amazon)

AnitaTheAuthor.com/FINEbn (Barnes and Noble)

Excerpt: Family Is Not Everything: How To Minimize Their Mess, Maximize Your Happiness and Enjoy Emotional Baggage Breakthroughs

BACK IN THE DAY

Once upon a time, we managed emotional problems with only prayer and encouragement. Seeking professional help was frowned upon. We were taught, What happens in this house, stays in this house. Seeking counseling services for divorce or molestation or addiction or domestic violence was taboo. Society expected the wife being battered by her husband to stay married, the niece being molested by an uncle to keep quiet, the daughter with the alcoholic father to make the best of it. Divorce wasn’t even regarded as a serious consideration. Instead, any spouse considering divorce was encouraged to make a new commitment to their vows, to pray, and to have faith. We were expected to achieve emotional wellness through a process of suppression and turning a blind eye. Adults had to live their lives according to who they were expected to be and hide who they really were. Children were expected to be seen and not heard.

Remember those days?

The unspoken belief was that when the person died, the problem died with them. When the alcoholic father died, the problems and effects of alcoholism died with him. When the physically abusive mother died, the problems and effects of battery died with her. Unfortunately, nothing could be further from the truth and, because of this, generational curses have been present in our society for centuries. A generational curse is created when the effects of an emotional offense are passed down from one generation to another. It manifests through different dysfunctional behaviors in each family member but can be traced back to one common cause. So how is a generational curse passed down? In emotional baggage.

Children who grow up in dysfunctional environments become adults who exhibit dysfunctional behavior. A child learns from their experiences and from what they’re exposed to and then utilizes that later—albeit unknowingly—as a mechanism when they become an adult. In large part, the person you are today is a collection of your past experiences. Your behavior is shaped by what you think, and what you think is determined by what you’ve seen and heard. Basically, traumatic events experienced during childhood and left unresolved produce dysfunctional behavior in the adult. We carry it around unseen in the form of emotional baggage. Don’t believe me? Keep reading. Let me put it in live and living color for you.

THE STORY – THREE GENERATIONS

Imagine a family of three generations: a grandmother, mother, and daughter. Although the grandmother dies a couple years after the granddaughter is born, somehow, at the tender age of sixteen, they will each have become teenage mothers.

The year is 2000. In a small town in the southeastern United States, the high school football team is playing in the state championship game. The entire town is excited. Flat-panel TVs are mounted over the counters of local hotels and fast-food restaurants. Policemen direct the heavy traffic with glow-in-the-dark mascot paw prints painted on the palms of their gloves. Young and old, those with children and those without gather in the local stadium to watch the beloved home team take on their fifty-year rival. The bleachers rock from the beat of the fight songs played by the high school band as the crowd claps and dances along with the cheerleaders. The art club paints paw prints and jersey numbers on the faces of fans of every age. The booster club sells hot dogs, hamburgers, French fries, and popcorn decorated in the team’s colors. The junior class volunteers sell commemorative programs and T-shirts to raise money for their impending senior trip. It’s the second quarter and the score is 14–7, with the home team in the lead.

While love, happiness, and excitement roar over the bleachers, under the bleachers lives lust and desire. Justin, affectionately called “the Magic Two” by other students, is the son of an alcoholic and the lead-scoring shooting guard for the high school basketball team. He stands six-four, is clean-cut and caramel colored, with hazel eyes. He has set his eyes on Monisha, a 4.0, coke-bottle-curved yet unpopular geek sophomore who has just celebrated her sixteenth birthday—and who is very conflicted. In her head she keeps hearing the one thing her mother has repeated her entire life: “Leave boys alone. They’ll ruin your life.” But inside she feels the butterflies flutter as Justin says, “You’re really beautiful,” and wraps his letterman’s jacket around her shoulders.

When Monisha was born in 1984, her mother, Monique, was sixteen, and her father, Clayton, was seventeen. They were the head cheerleader and captain of the football team, and everyone adored them. Wherever you saw her, you saw him and his cherry-red Ford Escort. Monique had thick, jet-black, shoulder-length hair and a tiny waist. Clayton had a bright, big, money-grip smile that sparkled with all the promises of possibility for future success. The night of the junior prom, Monique wore a floor-length Carolina Herrera sheath-silhouette evening gown with a twist one-shoulder strap. Clayton was in a black-and-white tuxedo. He picked Monique up at her home at seven o’clock Friday night and dropped her off at noon on Saturday; with that, Monisha was conceived. The generational curse had claimed another member of the family. The emotional baggage of hurt and shame had shut down healthy communication about love, sex, or relationships in Monique’s household. Monique too had been the product of a teen pregnancy, a disappointment to not only family but also the community, which was harbored by Millie, Monique’s mother, in silence.

Millie threw herself into making life look perfect and good, even though she was hurting on the inside. That silence left Monique to learn responsible behavior by trial and error. Millie was too hurt to bring it up for discussion and too ashamed to acknowledge the right way because it would shed light on the fact that she’d done it the wrong way. Millie and Sam, Monique’s father, were one of the more well-respected and affluent couples in town, the kind that keeps family faux pas quiet.

In 1968, Millie and Sam were the pride of the local Section 8 project community. A straight-A student, Millie excelled in math and science. Monique’s father, Sam, was the lead singer in a quartet, crooning Motown jams at parties every Saturday night and belting out soul-stirring gospel hymns in the churches every Sunday morning.

Millie and Sam managed to make marriage look good. Millie attended teachers’ college and secured a position teaching math at the elementary school. Sam traveled the world extensively, first as a lead singer, then as a solo artist. It was his way of handling his feelings of hurt and shame from teenage pregnancy, creating a family he was not able to provide for. If he didn’t see it, he didn’t have to face it.

The music hits and the steady paychecks were ever present in Monique’s home, but attention and love were not. Her parents provided food, clothing, and shelter but otherwise ignored Monique. She was the evidence of their failure to live a moral life. If they did not look at her, they didn’t have to wear the badge of embarrassment. Rumors of Sam’s cheating on the road would sometimes filter back to town, but proof didn’t materialize until the other wife and children attended his funeral. Neither Millie nor Sam was emotionally present or available to cultivate genuine love in their child. Unconsciously, her parents passed on the emotional baggage of hurt and shame and, though she was always the best-dressed girl in school, the baton of the family curse seamlessly moved from one generation to another and now another.

Monisha, the third generation, has her mother’s curves and her grandfather’s soulful songbird voice. Her grandmother, Millie, raised her until her untimely death when Monisha was three years old. At that time, Monisha went to live with her mother, Monique, who rarely smiled because, like Monique was to Millie, Monisha was the evidence of the life-altering mistake Monique had made. It had crushed her dreams of attending college and going to law school. She was stuck in a small town working swing shifts at a dead-end hourly job in the local food factory. Her conversations were full of pessimistic snappy comebacks uttered between the cigarettes she chain-smoked. Unfortunately, because of the emotional baggage she carried, she couldn’t free herself of the hurt and disappointment so she could mature and be a better mother to Monisha than Millie had been to her. When Monisha entered high school and the house phone started ringing with boys calling, Monique simply hung up the phone and told Monisha, “Leave boys alone, they’ll ruin your life.” Throughout Monisha’s childhood she heard her mother’s grumblings about how her father was no good. Monique complained constantly about how Clayton didn’t buy food or how he was not trustworthy enough to babysit.

The educational trend of social promotion of star athletes made it very difficult for Clayton to survive at the Ivy League college that heavily recruited him. Though he had a 3.7 GPA, it was obvious Clayton could read and write at only a fourth-grade level, so he dropped out. Out of compassion, the community business owners, who were once high school teammates of Clayton’s, employed him for odd jobs until his addiction to alcohol would take over his performance and he would return to rehab to dry out once again. He was of no assistance to Monique.

Teen pregnancy is the epidemic, lack of communication and courage to heal are its enablers, but hurt and shame are the generational curse. And so, two weeks after her sixteenth birthday and just twenty minutes after belting out a soulful rendition of the National Anthem, Monisha is under the bleachers at the state championship football game. She thinks she knows what love is. She believes Justin is the one to give her that forever-after kind of love. Justin has taken her from nerd-weird to crazy-cool with one wink of his eye and made her the most popular girl in school—that’s love, or so Monisha feels.

Our biggest problem as a society is that the emotional baggage of hurt, pain, guilt, and shame gets passed down but not resolved. It can live in a family for centuries yet never be discussed openly. Why? Some believe discussing it openly glorifies it. Others believe if it is not discussed, it will go away. These misconceptions breed life into the problem and death to the soul. It forces victims to continue to suffer in silence. It creates a breeding ground for dysfunctional behavior that can hurt future generations.

You’ve seen it a hundred times. The daughter of a teen mom grows up to have a baby at the exact same age her mom birthed her. The son of a heroin addict grows up to be addicted to heroin. The son of a physically abusive father grows up to physically assault his wife. The daughter of a battered and beaten mom grows up to only feel she is loved—when? When she’s being hit. The string of connected dots from one generation to another is a generational curse. But hold on—please do not think the “dots” are always the same kind of dysfunctional behavior.

The pattern of maladaptive behavior can manifest differently in each person. For instance, a father beaten and sodomized in the sixties commits suicide. His son, who was a teen at the time of the incident, becomes a substance abuser. And his son, the third generation, for lack of having a healthy father, becomes a womanizer. Suicide, substance abuse, and womanizing are all dysfunctional behaviors that can be traced back to the experience the family suffered in the sixties. All the behaviors—suicide, substance abuse, and womanizing—are dysfunctional behaviors but not the same behavior. Get it? Maybe this will help …

Imagine three generations of men—a grandfather and his brother, son, and grandson—exhibiting different coping mechanisms but carrying emotional baggage because of the same horrific historic incident.

The year was 1972. MLK Jr. and JFK had been assassinated. On every wall in America hung honors in their memory as the fight for civil rights raged on. Jim and his brother Peter were leaving a protest in Atlanta, Georgia, driving back to Charleston, South Carolina, when they stopped at a country corner store for gas. The sign in the window read “Always Open, All Welcome,” but the rifle pushing into Jim’s back as he paid for the gas Peter had just pumped said “White’s only.” Peter was forced behind the store at gunpoint with his hands up in the “don’t shoot” position. After the pillowcase went over Jim’s head, he began reciting the “Our Father” prayer. He thought about his darling wife, his aging mother, and the murders of Mr. Evers and Dr. King. Jim could hear Peter screaming as he was dragged behind the store. Both men were sodomized, severely beaten, and left for dead. Both men were found by a white college professor returning from a summit in Charleston, South Carolina, to his home in Atlanta when he stopped for gas around midnight and oddly found the store closed.

Jim and Peter were taken to a hospital. When they returned home, they were physically healed but emotionally destroyed. Jim sat for days without uttering a word. His wife continued to love and care for him until his death in 1983, just shy of his son Jeremiah’s sixteenth birthday.

Jeremiah doesn’t remember his father’s happy-go-lucky personality. He remembers only a lump of human existence that sat on the porch from sunup to sundown, and then at the dinner table until bedtime. Because she worked as a housekeeper at the local college, Jeremiah’s mother was gone all day, but Jeremiah’s Uncle Peter would stop by the house to see his brother, Jim. Somehow, Peter seemed to have bounced back to a normal life—always full of jokes for Jim and candy for Jeremiah. On one particular day, Peter didn’t stay on the porch with Jim. He softly walked the house and found it empty, with the exception of Jeremiah, napping in his bedroom. Sitting on the porch, Jim cried as he listened to his son scream for Uncle Peter to stop hurting him, but Jim never moved. Two years later, Jim drove to a nearby pond, locked all the doors on his 1957 Chevy pickup truck, set it ablaze, and burned to death.

Jeremiah’s high school friends affectionately called him Jerry. They loved his happy-go-lucky demeanor and warm smile. When they cut class to hang out at the baseball field, he always supplied the booze. Jerry started drinking heavily at fifteen—the same year he fell in love with Susan, the beautiful sixteen-year-old platinum blond with the baby-blue eyes. Together, they smoked, drank, and made love. The next year, they had Justin, a beautiful baby boy with hazel eyes. Jerry and Susan remained a couple. Though Susan worked full-time as a receptionist, Jerry bounced around doing handiwork for the people in town.

In 1984, Justin, a high school sophomore, is the star of the varsity high school basketball team, and Susan could often be seen in the stands sporting a sweatshirt screen printed with Justin’s jersey number. His dad, though, never made it to one game. Many nights after he and his mom returned from one of his basketball games, Justin stepped over his father, who was passed out in the doorway. Susan would pick Jerry up and drag him to their bedroom as the phone bounced off the hook, constantly ringing, from a steady stream of girls vying for Justin’s attention.

The family curse affected each of the men differently, though the root cause was the same. Peter became a molester; Jim committed suicide; his son, Jerry, became an alcoholic; and his grandson, Justin, was a womanizer. Unresolved guilt, hurt, pain, and shame was the emotional baggage handed down in the family’s generational curse. Without a strong positive father figure, the second and third generations were left to deal with the hurt and shame experienced by the first generation and to figure out how to become men on their own.

Everyone has been affected by dysfunctional behavior, if not through their family, then through their job, church, or community. Perhaps you can remember lying awake at night listening to your neighbor abuse his love interest. Maybe you watched over and over as the youth pastor or priest exhibited a stronger interest in one child as they disappeared into rooms alone. Or maybe you’ve suffered at the hands (or media coverage) of a mass shooter. However you were affected, everyone has some emotional baggage, and they may or may not be properly working through it.

Some people keep their story secret because they’ve suppressed it so well they aren’t immediately aware of it. Others keep it a secret because they think they’d just die if anyone found out. Unfortunately, emotional baggage can cause us to become stuck. It creates insecurities that prohibit us from living our best life in the moment. Insecurities can show up as self-doubt, negative self-talk, low self-esteem, arrogance, conceit, low self-confidence, worry, or indecisiveness. Behaviors that can become dysfunctional are belittling, intimidating, neglecting, hitting, baiting, threatening, manipulating, lying, choking, abstaining, and indulging.

When we’re stuck, the effects aren’t always obvious or overt. For example, we’ve earned two college degrees but still cannot break the desired six-figure income ceiling. We’re smart, beautiful, and accomplished but can’t find genuine romantic love. We’re always around loads of friends and have managed to establish a social calendar that would make Oprah and Gayle blush, but we feel lonely, lost, and purposeless. We’re driven, task-oriented, and the highest producer quarter after quarter, but life still feels aimless and empty. We’ve got the gorgeous husband and brilliant kids, but we feel invisible and underappreciated.

Occurrences are bubbling over, becoming systemic and uncontrollable in homes, schools, and workplaces all over the country. Divorce, addiction, domestic violence, and sexual abuse are social ills that create deep-seated emotional baggage that seeps from the secrecy of our families into mainstream malls, entertainment complexes, and workplaces. Over time they deteriorate the soul of the person carrying the hurt and shame of the trauma, causing that person to inflict wounds on other people. Every problem you have is your responsibility, regardless of who caused it. Take responsibility to not pass your pain to the next generation.

Managing emotional wellness with silence has driven us into a hurricane of destruction on every societal level—from the family to the workplace, church, and school. The bad news is that emotional baggage is killing our communities. The good news is that over the last decade or so, the tide has turned, and emotional wellness is now a societal priority. No longer are we expected to nurse our wounds in silence. It’s the best time to find your authentic self and live a fulfilled life of joy. At no other time in history have we had as many life coaches, counselors, and clinicians abundantly available to assist you or corporate brands publicly championing for mental health causes and social responsibility. Now is the time for you to move past the stories that cause you pain. This is your moment. This is your pivotal place in space and time. It is no longer a situation of chance—you get to decide to win!

CRACK THE MASK, BREAK THE MOLD

With this book, I want to help you accept your past and decide it will no longer control your future. I want you to discover the past experiences that created your limiting beliefs and fuel your sabotaging behavior so you can beam with joy from the inside out. I want you to utilize the process of continuous growth and development. Living the same year ninety-nine times is not living a life. There’s more, and you can do more than have it—you can thrive in it. I want you to remove the restrictions your past has put on your ability to feel free to live true to your own personality, spirit, and character.

You have to crack the mask to define success and happiness for yourself: In your wildest dreams, what would give you the greatest joy? Think of three things that, if you owned them or earned them, would make you feel like you are living your best life. For example, my three things would be a private jet, a five-acre estate, and a home management staff—no debt. What are your three things? Now, let’s do this. Pick up your cell phone (yes, I know it is right there next to you), join my Facebook Group at https://www.ThatAnitaLive.com/group, and post your “Best Life Top 3.” We are a safe circle of compassion and understanding. Who knows, your “Best Life Top 3” may pop up in your direct messages when you least expect it as a reminder that dreams do come true—you just have to put in the work.

But understand, time is of the essence. Change is evident and always evolving. Just as times changed to produce a new day of pride in one’s authentic self, it can quickly change to make anyone with an emotional issue a dangerous detriment to society. The focus of pop culture and public opinion is largely dependent upon the latest major headline—good or bad. The pendulum swing affects the openness with which we can practice self-help. Today, hashtags that end in “pride” fill every social media timeline daily, but how long will we be able to live unashamed? No one knows, which is why you need to move to create the life you were destined to live now. It’s time to soar to your next level in life. Will you continue to go round and round on the merry-go-round of sameness, or will you jump and reach for destiny’s brass ring of happiness and success?

IT’S YOUR TIME TO SOAR

In this book, I’m educating, entertaining, and teaching you a new process for dealing with emotional baggage. This process will not only help you to stop living an aimless life but will teach you how to sustain your momentum and steadily accomplish your goals. I’m going to educate you by demonstrating how childhood trauma becomes adult dysfunctional behavior through my own personal stories. I’m going to entertain you with my southern colloquialisms and quick-witted tongue but also by showing you the silver lining to your own dark clouds, the good things that have come out of all those tough times. Lastly, I’m going to teach you how to defend and prioritize what is most important—your happiness and your health.

That new process is my 7-Step Method, which got me off the emotional spin cycle. The basic format of the chapters in Section I are the same. First, I share a personal story highlighting a certain type of abuse and its lasting effects. In some chapters, I give you multiple examples of abusive incidents. I need you to know abusive behavior is not a onetime event. When a survivor says “I was abused,” the listener hears and sees one single event. I need you to see, hear, and feel that abuse is repetitive and will persist as long as the perpetrator has access to the victim.

Each chapter will also feature a Lesson to Learn section highlighting the dysfunctional behavior resulting from the abuse (the effects), and how the 7-Step Method can be used to overcome the maladaptive behavior (the technique). The activities will teach you how to minimize toxicity, maximize what serves you, and enjoy a meaningful life. Section II of this book—chapters seven, eight, and nine—shares with you how to keep your momentum going once you’ve gotten free.

The Techniques of the 7-Step Method are:

Step One – Life Mapping Step Two – Track and Trace Step Three – Dispose of Distractions Step Four – Celebrating Self Step Five – Inner Peace and Quiet Step Six – Emotional Equation (Performance Review) Step Seven – Gratitude and Give Back

My Successful 7-Step Method Affirmations include:

1. The better I know the person within, the happier I can make her.

2. I am the master of my emotions. I control them, they don’t control me.

3. Having boundaries shows I want self-respect. Forcing people to adhere to my boundaries shows I have self-respect.

4. I am precious.

5. I am peace. I am peaceful. I am at peace.

6. I am in a perfecting process.

7. I am receiving goodness and giving greatness back.

My successful 7-Step Method Activities include:

1. Life Mapping 2. Tracking and Tracing 3. Disposing of Distractions 4. Celebrating Self 5. Inner Peace and Quiet (Bonus: Finding My Father Collage) 6. Solving Your Emotional Equation 7. Gratitude and Give Back (Bonus activity: Creating a Family of Choice)

This book does not include a comprehensive list of all of the Affirmations, Techniques, or Activities in my 7-Step Method. It does include all the steps. However, I’ve carefully selected the specific Affirmation, Technique, and Activity that best correspond with the lesson to be learned from the True Story in the chapter.

WHY LISTEN TO ME?

I hear you, I hear you. Who is this woman and why should I listen to her? Why should I continue to read this book? Let me give you four reasons: my education, my career experience, my personal experience, and most important—my gift.

I’ve earned three degrees—a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics, a Master of Education in Counseling, and a Master in Business Administration—and I do mean earned. I attended all my own classes, wrote all my own papers, and conducted all my own research. I learned from professors that cared more for my well-rounded, intellectual development and my ability to rise to the top than my feelings.

But I’m not just heavy on the education side; I’m also qualified by career experience. I’ve counseled, coached, and trained hundreds of people between the ages of eleven and fifty through their own personal transformations and professional endeavors. I’ve been a summer teen program counselor and a middle school guidance counselor. I’ve worked as a counselor in a life skills, education, and technical job training program as well as a career services counselor at a college. And I’m still that one friend everyone seeks out when they need help with their challenges. In addition, as you will learn in later chapters, I’ve been on every side of emotional baggage.

I am an expert because of the combination of my education, career experience, personal experience, and heavenly gifting at identifying where you’re stuck and mapping out how to move you from where you are to where you want to be in life. Yes, I said “heavenly gifting.” Consider what world-renowned celebrity personality Steve Harvey tells his audiences all over the world about The Gift:

“At birth God gave each and every one of us a gift. A gift is something you do the absolute best, with the least amount of effort. Gifts are more than just running, jumping, singing, and dancing. Your gift is where your success and happiness will be found.”

My gift is counseling—picking apart people’s insecurities and helping them find their emotional wellness. When life throws everything at you, when you’re buried under the mess of this world, I am the hand that you reach for, the hand that will pull you out of the dust, dirt, and mud, then teach you how to live a life of joy, love, and peace.

ARE YOU WITH ME?

Nothing gives you a better understanding of a topic than a 360-degree experience, and as I’ve said, I’ve been the victim, the witness, and the conduit God uses to heal.

Using that full panoramic view, I have made this my mission—you will:

· Be EQUIPPED to boldly go beyond your comfort zone and refresh, reinvent, and revise your life for the better.

· Learn how to TRANSFORM negative thinking into positive thinking with 7 affirmations, 7 results-driven techniques, and 7 actionable activities.

· Learn how to DEFY your limiting beliefs about yourself and create a life you’ll love living.

· Be EMPOWERED to do more for yourself and demand even more from others.

· Learn how to CHANGE your self-sabotaging behavior.

· Learn how to RELEASE fear.

· Be MOVED by the vivid and transparent personal stories of violent abuse to realize you are not the only one with a past and it doesn’t define your destiny or stop you from getting it.

In chapter two we’ll examine the importance of self-awareness and why no one should know you better than you. We’ll review the benefits and the life-changing effects each benefit can have on us. Turn the page, and let’s get started.

( Continued… )

© 2018 All rights reserved. Book excerpt reprinted by permission of the author, Anita Washington. Do not reproduce, copy or use without the author’s written permission. This excerpt is used for promotional purposes only.

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About the Author Anita Washington, M.Ed. & M.B.A., CEO & Founder of That Anita Live, LLC, host of the TV show That Anita Live and The Emotional Happiness Podcast with That Anita Live provides a platform for women to learn, laugh and more importantly heal emotionally by learning from the challenges and successes of others.

A former school and community agency counselor and creator of the 7-Step Method, Anita’s helped guide people from the ages of eleven to fifty through their own life issues, personal transformations and professional endeavors. With an old soul and a comedic, honest voice. She uses many southern colloquialisms and colorful expressions to unwrap personal stories of surviving a homicidal alcoholic father, a mother in denial and four physically and emotionally abusive brothers and relates them to guiding principles and healing techniques.

Through her powerful and uplifting interviews at ThatAnitaLive.TV and The Emotional Happiness Podcast women get to see and hear real women with resourceful stories living relentless lives after life’s most devastating events. Through her charismatic and compelling speaking, Anita helps women use the tools and resources they already have to reveal and release success blockers such as childhood trauma and family dysfunction to build self-confidence, boost their self-esteem and feel free to live true to their own personality, spirit and character.

She has self-published two books: number one ranked ebook, 7 Simple Steps to Beat Emotional Baggage: How To Become Whole, Healed, Healthy & Happy, which shares actionable techniques that will walk women through letting go of the past and rising above the glass ceiling to reach higher levels of success and satisfaction in life and newly released book (ebook and paperback), Family Is Not Everything: How To Minimize Their Mess, Maximize Your Happiness and Enjoy Emotional Baggage Breakthroughs which shares trauma stories you can relate to along with the seven techniques, affirmations and activities to help you heal.

From nine-to-five, Anita is a Senior Acquisition Support Specialist, possessing over nineteen years of performing and administering program management and cradle-to-grave commercial and federal contracting activities for acquisitions ranging from $500,000 to over $2 Billion. She has progressively worked her way up the federal acquisition life-cycle and commercial supply chain through various positions from pre-award and requirements definition to commodities buying to contract close-out. In her career, she has mastered the art of transitioning to level-up.

Anita is a graduate of Limestone College, Virginia State University, and Strayer University with a B.S. in Mathematics, an M.Ed. in Guidance & Counseling, and an M.B.A. in Contracts & Acquisitions. You can find Anita online at ThatAnitaLive.com, Twitter, Periscope, Instagram and Facebook. Her handle is That Anita Live on all four social media platforms.

Family Is Not Everything: How To Minimize Their Mess, Maximize Your Happiness and Enjoy Emotional Baggage Breakthroughs by Anita Washington Are people constantly dumping their negative energy on you? Do you find yourself bombarded with painful thoughts from your past?

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