#neither of my 2 cousins got married or were forced to marry as a result of their pregnancies but they are still close to the fathers

[pinolitas]

my cousins who have money and privilege to be moving back and forth between the US and Mexico treat living in the US like a study abroad program that they can just pick up whenever they want and go back home to tell stories about it im sorry i have to say it they dont have good reason to be doing that when they have kids to raise 😭 youve set up the foundation for a terrible childhood by moving them back and forth and having them live with different people all the time like part of the year they live with their grandma and then with their dad and then with their mom you are fucking up those kids' mental stability 😭😭😭😭

[newobsessionweekly]

Full of surprises 🌿- part 1

Part 2

fashphotolife said: You must have a long list of requests but I don’t blame them you’re a great writer! I was wondering if you could write an Aron Piper imagine where him & the reader are young but she planned to tell him that they’re pregnant & he also planned to propose to her a/n: I received some interesting requests and I found a common base so I thought why not a mini-series or a series. Thank you for this amazing idea. Take care and stay safe.🌿❤️ word count: 1.538 warnings: none, I guess.

Arón Piper x Reader🌿

You’ve been circling around the flat all morning after your body again refused your breakfast. You lost a couple of pounds, even Arón noticed your shivering and that you were paler than usual, but he preferred to keep quiet, he assumed it was because of how female body works. For some mornings in a row your routine was constituted from eating breakfast with Arón and after he left for work, your body rejected the food from you system and that was it, no other meal for the entire day.

You became closer to Danna and Ester due to the fact that your best friend was far away, so when you called Danna and asked for an advice, with a trambling voice and your shaky hand almost dropping the phone, she came over right away. Danna asked a bunch of questions that day, but because she was on the rush, she was next in line for make up, she suggested to buy a pregnancy test, just in case.

You and Arón are together for almost three years, and you love each other, everyone could see that, but never discussed about having a baby. You are young, his career just began and you started your third year at a university you always dreamed about. It’s subject you preferred not to think about too much because you didn’t know how he would react. Would he be happy? He will want to abandon you? Is there any reason for you to think about it?

Only a few moments ago you had the guts to take that test, and now you walk agitated through your apartment, waiting for the result. Five minutes usually is not that much, only now it feels like five centuries. Your hands are trembling and your stomach feels like someone squeezes it from inside. You sat down with that test on the bathtub’s edge as you move repetedly your foot up and down. You took a few deep breaths and opened it. Two lines. You checked the box again, and you couldn’t believe it. You had to think about it a few minutes before it hit you, you are pregnant.

You never thought if you really want having kids, neither with Arón nor with anyone else. His cousin adores you, and it is only two years old, but is the smartest kid and the most beautiful you’ve ever met. A few weeks ago you take care of him with Arón and you were shocked how good he was at it. You were convinced that Arón is your soulmate. It’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever admitted, but you two clicked from the first time, you experienced the strongest emotions beside him and you felt love in the purest way.

You were still clutchingthe positive test in your hand as you paced the length of yours and Arón’s bathroom, tears cascading down your cheeks at the thought of how he might react. All you could think about was the conversation the two of you had had in the car a couple of months ago, about him being away for shooting and not really having time for much, for you, for going out with his friends anymore. Presently it’s not an excellent time to start a family. Rationally you knew that your boyfriend would never leave you, never abandon you or this baby but weren’t thinking rationally right now, and you were terrified that if Arón left for acting he wouldn’t be coming back.

You heard the door unlocking and panic covered all of your face, dropping the test on the floor. You tried to wash away the puffy red eyes, but you ended wetting your t-shirt because of your still shaking hands. “(y,n)?�� Arón searching for you in the apartment as you tried to grabb all of the stuff from the floor and hide them, made harder for your lungs to work. “Here you are! Are we playing hide and seek?” he laughed as you were still with your back to the door. You tried to stuff the test inside your jean’s pocket but it wouldn’t fit.

“How was your day?” you tried to mentain your voice normal and hurried to threw the box into one of the cabinets and close the door.

“What’s wrong? What do you have there?” he came closer and wants to open the cabinet’s door, but you stand in his way.

“No-Nothing! I thought you were staying late today on the set. I don’t have dinner ready.” you changed the subject and forced him away from the bathroom.

You wanted first to digest the news, after that you would eventually notified him. What is going to happen now? You don’t know if you wanted to keep this baby, you don’t know if he wanted to have this baby with you. Things being in such rush, Arón pressing you, wanting to know everything that bothers you and the lump in the back of your throat as you watch Arón. His curly hair, his eyes, his arms, he entirely is a piece of art and you love him unconditionally. Would he still love you after you tell him?

Tears sting at the corner of your eyes, your breath shaky and uneven as you try to calm yourself down. “I’m so sorry...” You sobbed harshly and shook your head. “I should have been more cautious, but I-I wasn’t...” you cried.

“Sorry for what (y,n)? What happened? Are you hurt? Did something happen? “ he is concerned, confused and scared because your beautiful face is filled with tears that he doesn’t know what are for.

“I’m sorry” you get away from the cabinet and let him find for himself.

As he opened the door, that box fall on the ground. He figured as soon as he saw the name and the pink color, but he still picked it up and unsealed it. You were still crying, observing him and waiting for a reaction, but he was blank. He was looking at you, admiring your face, but you still can’t tell what is going on on his mind. He left that box on the sink and he hurried out of the apartment, leaving you to drawn in your tears and the saddnes that covered your soul. You were so sure he would stay, or at least he would stay to discuss the issues, but he ran without saying a word, he was speechless. You just curled into a donut on the floor and let those tears consume you.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Arón passed by the bathroom door and entered your bedroom, “Forgot something?” you got up, sitting on the bathtub’s edge.

“Yes.” he didn’t pay much attention, looking for something under his nightstand. He entered then the bathroom and bended so that you could be at the same level. “You.” he finished his answer and put a little box on your lap.

Your heart couldn’t endure this mood changing any more. He left without saying a word, and he let you feel abandoned for a moment and then came back as he left, without saying a thing. You had mixed feeling, you wanted to ask him what the hell was he doing, but you were also so intrigued about the box you are holding. You searched his face, his gentle smile and his lovely eyes. What would you do if you were forced to stay away from this man? Would he want to run away?

You opened the box and your mouth opened in surprise, “ I had prepared this moment for a while, but not today and not this way.” you looked at him and then at the ring as he talked, still unable to say anything. “But due to these circumstances, I thought why the fuck to wait any longer?”he took the box from your hands.

“I know it’s cheesy, and you don’t like cheesy things. But fuck, I am a hundred percent sure you are my soulmate. You are the other half I’ve been searching. You are the woman that has my heart and all the features I have been looking all my life in the other person. We don’t have to get married right now, we can wait, but I can’t wait any longer, I want to know if you will want to love me all my life. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes!” you smiled through the tears. “Yes.” you mumbled and wiped your eyes, but when he put that ring on your finger, you bursted again in tears. He kissed you, lovely placing his lips over yours and smiled. He lifted your t-shirt, kissing your womb over and over as you laughed.

“I’m sorry I had to ask your mommy to marry me in a bathroom.” he spoke to your belly.

“I’m sorry you had to find out that I am pregnant in a bathroom.” you laughed and cupped his cheeks to kiss him again. Somehow, through that kiss you wiped your worries away from your mind, and your heart filled with so much love. This amazing man wants to spend the rest of his life with you, and you couldn’t be happier for helping his wish to catch life.

——————————

Should I make a series? Tell me what do you think 🥺

[elliemarchetti]

Red Queen Pride and Prejudice AU (Part 5)

@lilyharvord I'm sorry this chapter is so long but I think I got carried away. Hope you like it anyway.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist 

Words: 3095

Following an agreement between the two friends, the next morning Wren wrote to her mother to ask her to send the carriage later in the day, but this one, which counted on her daughter's stay at the Hall of the Sun until Tuesday, the day that marked an entire week of stay, couldn’t resign herself to welcome her with joy before then, therefore her answer wasn’t favourable, at least for Mare’s wishes: she was so impatient to go home she sent words to her mother too, but she said they also weren’t able to dispose of the carriage until Tuesday and she added that if Mr. Samos and his sister wanted to enjoy her company further, she could easily do without her, which further pushed Mare not to want to stay longer as not only she didn’t expect such a request, but she even feared they would end up considering the both of them as intruders for having entertained themselves without a real need, so she insisted with Wren to ask Mr. Samos himself if they were able to borrow his carriage, thus establishing that they would express their desire to leave the Hall that afternoon, which prompted many regrets; what was said had such an effect on Wren that her departure was postponed to the next day, causing Miss Samos to regret her words, as the affection she felt for one of the guests didn’t outweigh the dislike she felt for the other. She actually even liked Miss Barrow, it was the implications of Cal's interest in her that terrified her to the point of being rude and annoying. In fact, even her friend seemed to have come to his senses, and the following day he was careful not to let slip any sign of admiration, nothing that could give her the hope of being able to influence his happiness so, firm in his purpose, he barely addressed them ten words throughout the day, and although once they were found alone for half an hour, he devoted himself scrupulously to his book and didn't even look at her. On Sunday the separation took place and it was pleasant for almost everyone: Miss Samos was extremely courteous and showed all her affection towards Wren by embracing her with great tenderness and even shaking Mare's hand, gestures in stark contrast to those of Mrs. Barrow, who marvelled at her daughter's arrival and called Wren's decision to expose herself to the cold like that and to cause such trouble to Mr. Samos very wrong. On the other hand, her spouse, although very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was delighted to see his eldest daughter, without whom the evening conversations had lost much vivacity and almost all common sense as Tramy was always immersed in his botany books, Gisa did nothing but learn new songs on the piano and repeat remarks of trite morality learned from her mother and Bree and Shade spent half their time with the officers.

"I hope, my dear," said Mr. Barrow to his wife the next morning, while they were at breakfast, "you’re going to make a good lunch for today, because I’m right to expect an addition to our family group.”

"What do you mean, my dear? Is it perhaps Mr. Samos?” she asked, her eyes already shining. Although she didn’t want to admit it, she hoped, deep in her heart, that her daughter's stay at the Hall of the Sun had stirred the heart of its tenant, or at least his cousin, but her husband revealed the bitter reality: he was talking about his own cousin, Mr. Jesper.

"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Barrow, "I can't bear to hear his mention. Please don't talk about that hateful man."

The hateful man in question was only a few years older than her eldest son and was extremely quiet and mysterious, and just like everything else Ruth Barrow couldn't understand, she just didn't liked him. Orphan of father as a child, his mother had served at Lord Davidson’s house until her death, and as any good relative should do, he had written to his cousin to communicate it only after the funeral, as not to create any kind of fuss.

"He must be a strange one, I think," said Mare, who had only had the pleasure of meeting him when she was so young she couldn't even remember.

"I can't understand him. There's something very pompous about his style... Do you consider him an intelligent man?” asked Shade to his father.

"Maybe he once was, but I don't have high hopes, given the mixture of servility towards his benefactor and presumption, yet the letter doesn’t seem to be badly written.”

As for the mother, Mr. Jesper's letter had made much of hers grudge vanish and she was now inclined to know him with a degree of self-control that amazed everyone present, which she lost at four o'clock when he walked in, right on time as reported in the letter Mr. Barrow had received nearly a month earlier and had kept secret until then. The guest was welcomed with great courtesy, and although Mr. Barrow spoke little, the ladies were quite inclined to chatter and filled the long silences of the newcomer, a tall, slender young man, with a grave and solemn look and manners very formal. He barely sat down when he started complimenting Mrs. Barrow for having such pretty daughters; he said he had heard a lot about their beauty but, in this case, fame was inferior to reality, and he added that he had no doubts about seeing them both, in the time due, happily married. This gallantry wasn’t much appreciated by Mare but her mother, who never found fault in compliments, replied very promptly that he was too kind, and she hoped so too. The gallantries was interrupted by the announcement of the afternoon tea, and Gisa and her mother exchanged a smile when the guest complimented the beauty of their home, especially the entrance and the furnishings of the dining room. Mare noticed that their host seemed to have nothing to say but compliments: the pastries were wonderful, the tea blend divine, and so on, to the point that she soon found herself bored and only joined the conversation when forced by her father. Lord Davidson's concern for his wishes and regard for his comforts seemed very commendable, but even in this case it was mainly praise, and it was time for dinner that Mare hadn’t yet understood what that young man thought of any topic, or whether he actually had thoughts of his own that differed from those of his benefactor, a childless and heirless man who was probably going to leave all his belongings to his dear Tyton once he died.

"It’s fortunate for you to possess the talent of flattering gently. May I ask if this pleasant attentions arise from a spur of the moment, or are they the result of previous preparation?" asked the host, and he enjoyed every moment of his awkward response, sharing a hidden laugh with the eldest daughter. The poor man couldn’t have imagined that the beautiful Mare Barrow had so little regard for him, and he confided to her mother that he intended, since soon he would’ve had a beautiful house and an income that he would never even allow himself to dream of, to marry and that he would’ve chosen his cousin's eldest daughter as his first candidate, so, when Gisa expressed the desire to go out for a walk and Mare decided to join in order not to always have the stranger around, her mother suggested that it was Mr. Jesper to accompany them.

"It would be nice if you showed him around, and that way he would get to know our neighbourhood," she said, candidly. In pompous nullity on his part, and in courteous nods of assent from the cousins, they passed the time until they entered the city, after which Mr. Jesper lost all appeal, and not even particularly elegant hats could distract the two sisters from their search for a particular man in uniform, Mr. Thomas, whom they found accompanied by a charming stranger, who bowed as they passed. Mr. Thomas immediately spoke to them, and asked permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Maven, who had returned with him that day from the city and declared himself willing to buy an officer's patent for their regiment. It was the only thing he lacked to be considered perfect, as the young man had a charming appearance, with a beautiful face and figure and very pleasant manners. After being introduced he immediately revealed his ease as a conversationalist, an ease at the same time perfectly correct and unpretentious; the whole company was still intent on chatting very pleasantly when they heard the sound of horses and saw Mr. Samos and General Calore approaching. Recognizing the ladies in the group, the two gentlemen immediately headed towards them and began the usual pleasantries. Samos was the one who spoke the most, and mainly to Miss Barrow, telling her that they were headed to the Skonos house for updates regarding Wren's health, which her partner confirmed, only to turn pale when he recognized the stranger, who in turn blushed violently, arousing in the Mare a curiosity that she barely managed to restrain. A minute later Mr. Samos, without giving the impression of having seen what had happened, took his leave and continued riding with his friend, soon imitated also by the other two gentlemen. Returning home, Mare stopped at Wren's house to inform her of what happened between the two young men but although she was willing to defend both of them, or neither too, if they were all wrong, she was unable to explain a similar behaviour more than her friend. Arriving home, Mare and Gisa were informed by their mother that Colonel Farley had invited them, and with them also the new guest, through their brothers, to a small gathering the next afternoon, which would also be attended by some officers. Although the question was never asked openly, the girls anxiously waited for the time to get into the carriage only to find out if at their friend’s home they would also find Mr. Maven, and as soon as they entered, they found with pleasure that the young man must’ve received the invitation along with his friend Mr. Thomas, as they recognized his voice. Having learned this information, and having all settled down, Mr. Jesper was free to look around and admire, and was so impressed with the size and decor of the room he said he could almost imagine being in his benefactor's summer breakfast room, a comparison which at first didn’t seem very gratifying and that after an accurate explanation, which kept him busy until the arrival of the gentlemen, only convinced Gisa. When Mr. Maven entered the room, Mare realized the admiration she felt at their first meeting wasn’t  in the least unreasonable: the officers were respectable and distinguished men and only the best were present at the reception, but he was far above all in figure, features and way of doing and moving, making him the lucky one to whom almost all eyes turned feminine, but it was Mare who was considered very lucky when he chose to sit right next to her and immediately began to converse, even if only about the humidity of the evening and the possibility of a rainy season. With rivals like Mr. Maven and the other officers to contend with him the girls attentions, Mr. Jesper and his long silences seemed to sink in insignificance but he still had, at intervals, a gentle company in Diana, who was used to being surrounded by men in uniform and didn’t particularly feel their charm. Once the game tables were set up, however, he had the opportunity to reciprocate: unfortunately Mare had been invited to play by Mr. Maven and Gisa by his friend, so she had found herself with Bree and Shade, but short of a partner.

"At the moment I know little about this game," he said, "but I'll be happy to improve if you will teach me."

Obviously the exchange hadn’t escaped the eldest of the Barrow sisters, just as the disappointment in her younger brother’s expression, but she said nothing, determined not to allow Gisa to completely grab the newcomer’s attention, who seemed, however, more interested in conversing with her than in the game and with extreme delicacy, and joy of Mare, who couldn’t wait to know the details of his relationship with General Calore, asked the distance from there to the Hall of the Sun and how long the cause of such embarrassment the previous day had been there.

"For about a month," Mare said, and then, reluctant to drop the subject, she added, "he's a person with very extended properties in the capital, from what I know."

"You’re right," replied Mr. Maven, “and you couldn't have met a person more suitable than me to give you certain information about it, since I have had very a close relationships with his family since childhood."

Mare couldn't help but be surprised, a reaction that seemed to push the young man to open up further with her, albeit still very cautiously, to the point that she had to reassure him that no one in the Stilts felt great sympathy towards him.

"I certainly can't pretend to be sorry," Maven said, after a short pause, "that he or anyone else can be judged as they deserves, but with him I think it doesn't happen often. The world is blinded by his wealth and his importance, or intimidated by his haughty and peremptory ways, and sees him just how he wants to be seen. "

"I would judge him, for what little I know him," Mare ventured, "a man with a bad temper. "

Maven shook his head, as if to say it wasn't just that.

"He is a cruel man, and his behaviour towards me was scandalous, but I sincerely believe that I could forgive him everything, really everything, except having betrayed the hopes and tarnished the memory of the father. "

Mare's interest grew, and she listened with a lot of participation, but the delicacy of the subject prevented her from asking further questions and so he began to talk about more general things, until he came to the reasons that had led him to accept a place in the regiment:" It was mainly the prospect of stable and good acquaintances. I knew it was a very respectable and pleasant regiment, and my friend Thomas further tempted me with his description of the current quarter and the many attentions the whole society has towards the officers, which, I confess, I need;  I suffered a disappointment and my spirit cannot stand loneliness. I need commitments and social life. Military isn’t what I was meant for, but the circumstances made it advantageous. The late Mr. Calore, as my godfather, had left me a small inheritance; he was a good man and was very fond of me, so he had thought to leave me something in his will, but when he died, a small formal irregularity left me no hope in regard of the law. An honourable man would’ve had no doubts as to what his intentions were, but his son preferred to, asserting I had lost all rights due to my extravagance. The sure thing is I can’t really blame myself for doing something to deserve it: I have a firry and reckless nature, this I must admit, and perhaps I may sometimes have expressed my opinions about and to him, but I don’t remember anything worse. Either way, the fact is that we’re very different people, and he hates me, and I nearly hate him as much, to the point that I would’ve publicly shamed him, if only I were able to forget his father’s goodness.”

Elizabeth honoured him for such sentiments, and he seemed more beautiful than ever as he expressed them, though she still had a few questions left, such as the motivation that might have prompted the General to behave that way, though she remembered being in the Hall of the Sun while he boasted his relentless resentment and unforgiving temper. Of course Maven couldn’t be affable on the subject, nor impartial towards him, so Mare immersed herself again in her own thoughts, only to exclaim shortly after: "Treating like that the godson, the friend, the father's favourite!"

She had to admit, the man's words, who had seemed so lovable to her, had troubled her deeply. It was as if a family member had decided to treat Diana or Wren that way if they found themselves in a situation of need, an inconceivable thought, which made her blood boil. It was disgusting, and he marvelled at how the General's own pride hadn’t led him to be fair to someone who had been his companion since childhood.

"It surprised me too," replied Maven, "since almost all his actions are traceable to pride, his only advisor and friend, who brought him closer to virtue more than any other feeling. But none of us are consistent, and in his behaviour towards me acted stronger impulses, preventing him from being generous as the poor and his tenants know him, and so dishonouring the family by failing to the qualities that make its name popular.”

Shortly thereafter the game tables broke up, but Mr. Maven didn't seem willing to move at all, and so Mare remained seated too, allowing other players to join them. So it was the turn of Diana and Mr. Jesper, who discussed his bad luck at gambling, and the fact that the money he had lost against his cousins ​​would certainly not be lacking, and indeed, he was glad that it had ended up in the pockets of his family members. One more game, shorter this time, and it was announced that dinner was now ready. Mare decided to let the other girls enjoy a slice of Mr. Maven's attention too, but she soon realized that whatever he said or did was said or done to put her in a good light or get her attention and when they left, her head was full of him, to the point that for the whole trip she couldn't think of anything else. Someone else in the carriage also seemed even more silent than usual, but Gisa, all busy discussing her victories at the game, seemed not to notice.

[orchidcous]

read the prophet recently ? says a certain ISAÍAS BLACK is in town. word says he’s from ilvermorny, 34 years old, and currently works as a vigilante. asked around, and most folks say he’s even-handed and resourceful, so that’s good stuff. get on his bad side, and he can be abrasive and resentful. apparently, if you need to know anything about defence against the dark arts, he’s the person to go to. — played by jon kortajarena.

— BASICS. 

full name: isaías leonel black

name meaning: god is salvation, lion


date of birth: december 27th

place of birth: new york city, u.s.a.


age: 34


star sign:
 sagittarius

alma mater: ilvermorny

house: house wampus

profession: vigilante

alignment: true neutral 

mbti: istp

patronus: hawk

boggart: dementor

languages spoken: english ( native speaker ), spanish ( native speaker ), french ( fluent ), italian ( fluent ), german ( fluent ),

talents: defense against the dark arts, parseltongue

wand: 14½ inch, brittle, yew wood with phoenix feather core

mother’s name: jimena black née sánchez, deceased

father’s name: cornelius black, deceased

siblings, if any: none

blood status: pure-blood

height: 6′2″

hair colour: dark brown

eye colour: brown

— BACKSTORY. 

from the bottom of my heart, yikes. 

isaias was born in the upper east side of new york city, to a member of the black family of britain, and jimena sánchez, a spanish witch that immigrated to the united states. estates had to be run in the new country, and cornelius black was more than up for the task: the steadily growing nexus of dark wizards in the united states needed a leader. or at least, one among many. 

there was nothing especially off with isaias��� childhood. papa would be away for weeks at a time, his mother would be distant and miserable so often, and he was left to explore around his brick manor home, alone, with a plan at the back of his mind to run away if needed. his mother would sometimes let hooded figures into the house to speak in chambers he wasn’t allowed into.

his relationship with his father was a bit — strange. cornelius was by no means cruel or harsh with his son, but treated him more like a pet than anything, something to be fed, clothed and sometimes kept as company in lonely evenings, but not as a human being, someone to know. on top of this, because he was away from home so often, isaias came to think of him as nearly a stranger, just one that sometimes patted his head and kissed his mother.  

jimena did as much as she could to fill the gap that her husband left. tried to be there for isaias as much as she could, but there was only so much time she could make for him in between running the household, dealing with the dark wizards that would often frequent their home, and keeping up with her husband. she had never possessed any special liking to the dark arts — and she had thought cornelius was more prudent than he really was.

a lack of prudence inevitably gets you killed. it did cornelius, at least, when isaias was nearing eleven, just old enough to go to ilvermorny. but the death was no small accident or execution for betrayal. it was the result of a thorough investigation by the united states’ magical congress. a confrontation escalated, during which aurors were forced to kill cornelius. but the investigation didn’t end yet. every last thread had to be followed. 

first isaias’ uncles and aunts, then his mother, then his mother’s siblings, and finally him. by the time he was allowed to go to ilvermorny, he was already two years older than the prescribed starting date — though it wasn’t too difficult to buy his way into school. 

when you’re a black and your father’s the first wizard to have been killed by aurors in a decade, it does your reputation no favours. when he came to ilvermorny, lanky and gruff, whispers followed him from the moment he ascended mount greylock. his sorting ceremony was unusually long, with no house’s mascot stepping forward to welcome him until he scathingly demanded that one do. naturally, he was sorted into wampus, the house that favours the hot-blooded.

school was ... not fun. apart from being more or less ostracised from any of the people with moral compasses, and frequently got roped into the gang of blood purists at ilvermorny, a small though powerful group. this was where he’d find his so-called friends during his time there. 

once out of school, it wasn’t easy to get a steady job. his academic understanding of magic wasn’t good enough for professorship, and it seemed that he’d be doing himself in for a lifetime of pain if he worked for the magical congress. while he certainly had the practical skills to make a good auror, he simply didn’t have the patience for the rules and procedures of it. 

then his father’s brother ferdinand made him an offer — join the black clan in the united kingdom. there would always be a place for him there. 

call it curiosity, stupidity, boredom. it didn’t matter, because one way or another, he was in london within a few months of graduating, and he was doing minor errands for wizards in no time — plenty of kidnappings, the occasional interrogation. none of it was particularly tasteful to him. 

but unlike in ilvermorny, where he was very clearly isaias black in a sea of other students — the recognition he received here was not overfull, not menacing. just what he wanted, just what everyone else got. the feeling of being a part of something. 

after a couple of years working in europe, he met serafina lestrange, the young and bored heir of a significant pureblood lineage. both of them were guarded, never given a choice or a plan in the world they were born into, and both tumbled into the same road, the same missions, the same bed. what they felt for each other was never love, because neither bothered to unravel the other, unpack scars. if anything, they applied gauze, patched up sores, made each other harder. 

at the age of twenty-five, he requested to travel back to the united states — partially because he wanted to relive what he had left behind, give himself some satisfaction in his choice. and partially because he wanted to see his mother. 

she was ill — from more than just polio. ill from loneliness, from regret, from feeling that her entire life could’ve been different, had she not settled for marrying a man involved with the dark arts, just because he had money, and stature.

isaias did get to meet her, but it was just a few months later that she passed away. 

there was hardly a mercy period before he was reminded of what he was really there to do, besides reminisce. an auror’s life work was threatening to uncover an entire coven of dark wizards in upper new york — there was no easy way to go about it. he had to be eliminated, and his work destroyed. isaias hadn’t really killed anyone before — and it didn’t make much sense to send him in of all people. 

until it did. because that auror — was his uncle. his mother’s brother, to be exact. heaven knows what had possessed him to join the police force, but it was no matter. the plan was for isaias to have a happy nephew-uncle reunion with him in his quiet brick manor upstate, spend a day or so exchanging pleasantries — murder him, burn the papers, leave without a trace. isaias had never met the man personally before.

but ricardo was welcoming, despite the news of his sister’s death affecting him silently. isaias felt a nauseating heaviness from the very beginning, knowing that this man was kin, that they were kept apart by forces that should’ve been overcome. in the manor, he saw a different life, one that could’ve been, of fireplaces and warm hearths and people looking after him. had he not been part of a family that prided itself on its disdain for foreigners.

then there was the matter of his family — wife and toddler son, not at all affiliated with magical defence. but if he killed ricardo, he’d have to take everyone else down too. killing an enemy was one thing. killing an innocent ? quite another. not to mention that they were his uncle, aunt and cousin — but orders were orders. and they’d never been a part of his life, so why should they be today ? 

he sucked it up and finished the job. it was the most despicable thing he’d ever done, and it fucked him up. in less than a week, he requested to be kept out of the business altogether. mostly he was laughed at. 

but because he was adamant to leave, he offered them a deal. he would go, and in return, he would make an unbreakable vow, or rather, three. never to become an auror, never to aid an auror to find a death eater, and never to kill a person with a dark mark.

this seemed to satisfy the london high command well enough. of course, he knew that he would be tracked from then on or the rest of his life anyway. 

a while on the run, and he’d figured out a couple of loopholes to the terms of his vow. couldn’t be an auror. fine, the auror’s were steeped in bureaucracy and corruption anyway, it would only be a hindrance to join them. to assist an auror: he knew none, no problem. and as for killing death eaters — he wasn’t about to take anyone’s life again,  but he had to take their freedom.

the torturing curse, crucio and the disarming expelliarmus became his closest allies. after debilitating the death eaters he could find, it was only too easy to leave them in places where they would be found by the authorities, given a trial and all the nice stuff — provided they were in a position to speak. this went on for years.

as of 1963, he’s arrived in paris, to join the largest wizarding convention in modern history, with delegates from more than a hundred countries, and of all professionals, rich, poor, ordinary and remarkable. he knew that death eaters had waited ages for something like this, a gathering of fish in one big barrel. it would be easy to shoot at them, all at once.

knowing that it’d happen is certainly an advantage, but such an operation might just be too much for him alone. 

[ascottywrites]

Overwatch -- The Felicity Smoak List

In light of Emily Bett Rickards’ departure from Arrow here we are with a few of my favorite things. Happy Reading!! 

The Phoenix by SuperSillyAndDorky06 (Complete: 27/27| 126,939) --Bratva Oliver 

Felicity Smoak fell in love with the broody, intense Oliver Queen, Captain of the Russian Bratva, ages ago but he broke her heart. So, when the sudden marriage between them is arranged, she does not understand it and she does not want it. Except Oliver Queen is not only a harder man to live with than she realized, he also has no intention of letting her go. Mature content. Mild swearing. A lot of sexual tension. And you will want to punch Oliver at times. Kiss him at times ;)

A Code of Silence by OliversMuse (Complete: 34/34| 55,265) --Bratva Oliver  Oliver Queen is a boss of the Star City mafia when he meets and and falls in love with Star City socialite Felicity Smoak. While on their honeymoon their yacht goes down and they are presumed dead. Five years later they unexpectantly show back up alive and Oliver is now also a Captain in the Russian Bratva. As he fights to keep his territory he faces a resistance that will force him to show everyone just how far he will go to protect those he loves and Felicity to show what she will do to protect her family.

I Will Protect Her by beggsyboo (Complete: 22/22| 33,678) --Bratva Oliver  She required protection.

He needed a wife.

                                                  *** 

   So I’ve just got three Olicity stories and they’re all Bratva!Oliver meh. It’s probably because in fanfiction I ship Felicity with literally anyone other than Oliver (sorry Olicity die-hards). It could be because after a hint of it was introduced, the Arrow-verse canon made it a central piece of the storytelling. Or it could be a multitude of other reasons...let’s not look too deep into it. INSTEAD here are some alternate pair Felicity fics. Enjoy! 

+Batlicity 

Wait. What happened in Vegas?  by Ellabee15 (Complete: 30/30| 47,651)  Bruce and Felicity accidentally get married in Vegas.

A Bat Reaches for the Light by tdgal1 (wip: 13/?| 35,053) 

Oliver sleeps with Isabel and tells Felicity that nonsense. Felicity meets Bruce Wayne, Felicity decides that if Oliver wants no relationship that is what he will get. The first chapter is a summary but things will improve. This is for my good friend Vanessa.

Between a Bat and a Sharp Place by Ellabee15 (Complete: 28/28| 19,849) 

Beginning sometime after Oliver makes Felicity his EA this takes a different view of how season 2 might have gone. What if Felicity's family secrets were revealed? How will Oliver react to her being the daughter of a business rival. More importantly how does Tony Stark feel about the way the Arrow treats his daughter. Also Felicity has a history with...Batman?

Batlicity oneshots by  Ellabee15 (Complete: 20/20| 20,250) 

Felicity/Bruce Wayne one shots.

How Did We End Up Like This? by Wally_Birb (Complete: 15/15| 46,404) 

For half of a decade, Felicity's best friend was a billionaire vigilante with a dark past. No, not that one. What started out as what Felicity insists was a mistake resulted in one of the longest friendship Felicity had ever had. Long distance, of course, because Bruce Wayne wasn't exactly keen on Star City and Felicity wasn't a fan of smog.

When Felicity and Oliver break up, Felicity doesn't want to give up on making a difference. So, she turns to her best friend, looking for comfort (which he fails at giving spectacularly) and understanding (which he wouldn't be able to stop even if he wanted to). She quickly finds herself fitting in with the Batman and his little army of children.

+Clark Kent 

The Measure of a Hero by Ellabee15 (Complete: 22/22| 36,873) 

After the Glades fall strange things begin happening in Starling.

Man of Smoak, Man of Steel by Ellabee15 (Complete: 24/24| 24,604) 

After Felicity graduated from MIT she went to work for a while in Metropolis to set up the Daily Planet's new computer system...and got a little more than she bargained for. AU (Obviously) will feature Arrow story line later.

+Clint Barton 

Slings and Arrows of Outrageous Fortune by Ellabee15 (Complete: 29/29| 44,465) 

Clint Barton gets tired of being compared to the Arrow and decides to set the record straight once and for all. The last thing he wanted was to get involved in the Arrow's mess. Felicity's struggling with Oliver's willingness to overlook Malcolm's past in order to defeat the League of Assassins. The last thing she needs is another stubborn archer in her life.

**This is followed by  Where We Stand 

Not Her Only Archer by Nartie327 (wip: 11/?| 11,844) 

What If Oliver wasn't the only archer Felicity knows? What if she had a whole secret life before she joined Team Arrow that no one knew about?

(Timeline: Arrow season 2 & The Avengers: Age of Ultron)

Maybe Next Time I can Buy You That Drink? by lailah (one-shot| 2,868)

“When the shirt was gone her eyes widened in surprise. His body was -- well amazing, it was all rock hard muscle and skin, so much glistening skin. Felicity couldn’t help but reach out and press her hands against him, feel what she was seeing to make sure it was real.”

**This is followed by  The Softer Side

Marry Me (buy me dinner first) by Wally_Birb (one-shot| 7,718) 

The one where Clint and Felicity sorta dive headfirst into this whole 'partners' thing and Clint realizes what the initials of Strike Team Delta spell out.

+Thorlicity 

When Lightning Strikes by Ellabee15 (Complete: 20/20| 48,473) 

After being banished from Asgard, Thor crash lands outside of Starling.

Smoak or Stark? by laxit21 (wip: 58/?| 76,002) 

Howard Stark was a known adulterer. Roughly a week after he and his wife are killed in a car accident, their son Tony becomes aware of his younger sister, Felicity Smoak. How will events for both the Arrow and the Avengers change as a result of their sibling relationship?

(Canon divergence for both Arrow and the MCU)

Always Be My Thunder by Ellabee15 (Complete: 27/27| 62,582) 

Felicity is recruited by SHIELD to help with an impending disaster. A life altering accident forces her to make an extremely important decision which will forever change the dynamics of Team Arrow and those of the Asgardian court.

Lightning in her blood by Millie 1985 (Complete: 3/3| 3,848) 

Felicity is not what she seems, sure she is a sweet, quirky, genius who can always be relied upon to help save the day but she is also more than that. She has lightning in her blood and more than one mighty protector in her corner. Takes place after both Heir to the Demon and the second avenger film. Now a collection of one shots.

 +Steve Rogers 

I'll be your Soldier by Ellabee15 (Complete: 31/31| 54,121) 

 Felicity Smoak is kidnapped by the league of Assassins. Over the next 2 years a new Winter Soldier comes to the attention of Captain America. (This story begins at the beginning of season 3 in the Arrow timeline and after Captain America: The winter soldier in the Marvel universe.)

Rising Above The Ashes by Wally_Birb (wip: 9/?| 20,494) 

When Felicity Smoak was 19, SHIELD forced her to join their ranks to work off the crimes that the people closest to her committed with her super virus. Also when she was 19, a kill order went out that forced three of SHIELD's top agents to defect so that she could escape with her life. No one knows why exactly the order went out, but years later the answer comes while Felicity is hacking investigating SHIELD.

Of course, knowing why it happened? Well that just puts more of a bounty on her head.

Some Good In This World (Worth Fighting For) by Wally_Birb (one-shot| 10,960) 

Felicity blames Cisco, honestly. It's always Cisco's fault, so she figured that when she woke up in the 1940's after interrupting one of his experiments, it was a safe bet to think that it was all Cisco's fault.

His Best Girl by iluvaqt (Complete: 22/22| 100,696) 

Felicity moves to New York after the Glades collapse. A chance run-in at the Buy More with Steve Rogers, changes her world and sets her on a path of discovery that has been kept secret since before she was born.

Because I'm Worth It by lateVMlover (Complete: 10/10| 34,455) 

This is a crossover story that is set after season 2's Arrow finale. Felicity is Pepper's cousin and decides to go to New York to get away from her heartbreak from Oliver. This is NOT an Olicity story. It focuses on her meeting and falling for Captain America.

**This is followed by a few more installations  Black Meets Green  Protecting the Family  The Wedding ...Ya know, just in case you’re in need of a deeper look. 

+Johnny Storm 

Where there's Smoak there's Fire by Ellabee15 (Complete: 11/11| 14,043)

In the wake of Oliver's death Felicity is sent by Palmer Tech to oversee a deal with the Fantastic Four.

+Aquaman 

Above | Beneath by Vixx2pointOh (Complete: 6/6|23,990)

He was from the lost world beneath.

She was from the dry land above.

Or at least that's what they thought...

Expectations by NellyHarrison (one-shot| 6,562) 

The first time Felicity Smoak meets Arthur Curry does not go well, but as they continue to work together, and she continues to believe in his potential, their relationship evolves into something neither of them had expected.

[askthenewhopespeak]

Okay I just found this blog. Get me up to speed. Who's already dead? What are the ships?

//*Cracks knuckles* Welcome. Apologies for the horrendous, outdated state of the pages that should fill you in on this, that’s all my fault, but here goes:

Canon:

-Blog canon is very close to the canon of the series, with some exceptions:

-The last… four or so? chapters of the Killer Killer manga are non-canon. Fujigawa stabbed Asano and left her in a wheelchair.

-The Danganronpa Togami novel is… weird. It’s apparently actually all a dream or the matrix or some shit in the actual book? Either way, the characters from it do exist but most of them are dead now..

-Everything else is pretty much canon. Including the brainwashing. Unfortunately.

Deaths: (Posts in which they died are linked)

-Everyone who died in canon. (They occasionally come back as ghosts, though that hasn’t been happening much lately due to mysterious circumstances.)

Season 1:

-Haiji Towa. When Makoto Naegi first reopened Hope’s Peak, Haiji tried to kill him. Makoto was saved, however Hajime Hinata made good on a promise he made that if anyone tried to restart the tragedy, he would kill them, and we are down one pedophile! Hajime ends up leaving the school immediately after.

-Kanon Nakajima (Leon Kuwata’s cousin if you haven’t read Ultra Despair Hagakure, don’t worry, it won’t matter for much longer) was infected with a lethal disease, along with 7 others, and there was only enough cure for 7 people, so Kanon decided to down a handful of sleeping pills.

-Stephanie Storm. An OC (there are a lot of those on this blog) who was the aunt of the main antagonist of Season 1, Maverick Storm (Another OC). Maverick shot and killed her, and that caused the AI she made, one that looks but does not act like Chiaki, to go haywire, essentially becoming evil and have mysterious motivations, also kickstarting the meta plot where she hijacks posts away from me. Look for either zalgo text or 1′s and 0′s replacing I’s and O’s when that happens. Anyway Stephanie really wasn’t all that important, but her creation is.

-Kazuya Togami: Adopted sibling of Byakuya’s half sister, Shinobu. Kazuya was a rapist. That’s… basically all of his character. Shinobu killed him by stomping his chest in after he kidnapped her, and everyone rejoiced.

And then we hit Season 1′s finale, where a bunch of people died:

-Suzuhiko Ootsuki: Shinobu’s other brother, whose personality was cocky hitman rapist. He was killed by a clone of Nagisa named Nine, who’s literally Izuru Kamakura 2.0

-Maverick Storm: The main antagonist of the previous season got an arrow through his eye courtesy of this season’s main antagonist. It was very much deserved, for a large, large number of reasons.

-Yasuhiro Hagakure: The first major canon character to die, Hiro, Hina, and Mahiru were trapped in a gym with Saki Maruyama (OC), a bloodthirsty mercenary working for Maverick. Maruyama tortured Mahiru, resulting in her being rendered mute, and Hiro sacrificed himself by distracting Saki long enough to let Hina get Mahiru to safety.

-Gundam Tanaka: Gundam was killed by Mutsumi Wakatsuki,  an OC belonging to @shslnerdytrash. Wakatsuki gassed the infirmary, knocking everyone in it out, and killed Gundam.

-Seiko Kimura: While she was dead before the series started, Seiko was brought back as a ghost, and worked as the school’s chemistry teacher up until the Invasion, where Kamiko Hisoka, (@hopeful-blue-wanderer‘s OC) shot Jataro in the chest. Seiko then performed what’s called a “Ghost Sacrifice”, and gave up her existence to save Jataro’s life.

-Junko Enoshima: This is a two-in-one. We got a Junko from an alternate timeline pop in, where she didn’t appear to be despaired, but Fuyuhiko decided he didn’t want to take chances and shot her in the head. (I’m not linking it as it happens in the same post that Gundam dies) Then this universe’s Junko appeared as a ghost, and killed Takemichi Yukimaru (Mondo’s captive in Towa City, and leader of the Crazy Diamonds on this blog since Mondo’s been dead for a few years now). But then the Chaos!Anon (Another contributor to the meta plot) then forced her to save Yukimaru’s life, contributing his own life force to do so.

Alter Ego: AI Chiaki killed him, but he’s back now, with a brand new color scheme!

And I believe that’s everyone from Season 1. I’m sure I’ll be corrected if I’m mistaken.

Season 2

Makoto Naegi/Future!Mukuro Ikusaba: OK, technically, Naegi is alive, having been stabbed by Tsumugi Shirogane and then saved by the ghost of Mukuro Ikusaba from the future (I’ll get to that). But his current situation is… complicated and not yet fully explained on the blog.

Saki Maruyama: Saki died in a killing game set up by the group Invidia. The contestants of the game were all criminals who had escaped the law in some way, and Saki died to a random guy who was literally just a name and a crime. Out of all the characters I’ve killed off on this blog, Saki is the one I am the most dissatisfied with, in the arc I’ve probably had the least fun writing… minus potentially the Couples Games. But at least the couples games didn’t lead into a months-long hiatus, so…

Kresta Ivanov (OC): A minor villain from Season 1 who didn’t really do much, and got killed along with most of the other minor characters at the end of the killing game, as her mod left the blog.

Couples: 

(I’ve seperated this into 3 categories, 2 canon characters, a canon character and an OC, and 2 OCs)

Canon Character X Canon Character:

Makoto Naegi x Kyoko Kirigiri: Kyoko believes Makoto is dead, and he has not done anything to dissuade that idea, so this couple has technichally broken up.

Toko Fukawa x Komaru Naegi: They’ve been dating for about a year and a half, and are the moms to the Warriors of Hope (Minus Monaca).

Hajime Hinata/Izuru Kamukura x Nagito Komaeda: Hajime and Nagito were dating before Hajime chose to leave Hope’s Peak and hunt down Remnants, and during that time, Izuru’s personality awoke and took over, working with Maverick for a while, until Maverick nearly killed Nagito, during which Izuru decided to save Nagito’s life and bring him to the infirmary, and Izuru’s pretty much been hanging out since (Would you try to kick him out?). They’re technically not dating, but try getting Izuru to do anything useful without Nagito asking him.

Mahiru Koizumi x Hiyoko Saionji: They’ve been dating for… I dunno, a while. I don’t really have a whole lot else to say on that. 

Ryota Mitarai x Imposter-san: Neither of these two have worked up the courage to ask the other out.

Sonia Nevermind x Gundam Tanaka: They were together… but then Gundam died and that ship sank.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x Peko Pekoyama: I’m gonna say they got married offscreen.

Akane Owari x Nekomaru Nidai: Married offscreen and Akane is currently about 4 months pregnant.

Masaru Daimon x Kotoko Utsugi: They’re dating.

Shinobu Togami x Yui Samidare: Both are interested in the other but neither has acted on it.

Mekuru Katsuragi x Misaki Asano: Same situation as Shinobu and Yui.

Canon Character x OC:

Takumi Hijirihara x Naomi Kizakura: Married, and Naomi is currently about five months pregnant.

Mikan Tsumiki x Kyoji Nakamura: Dating, and Mikan is currently about eight months pregnant

Misako Kawa x Nagisa Shingetsu: Dating.

Ryouko Otonashi x Sly: Ryouko is a clone of Junko Enoshima, and she and Sly recently ran off to join Invidia, a vigilante group that kills criminals

OC x OC:

Momo Kuzuryuu x Alyssa Storm/Satoru-Kun: A dimension-travelling nine year old has attracted both a psychopath and a ghost (both of whom are also kids). This can only end well.

Sora Hijirihara x Mitsuru Nakamura: Fankids from the future who time travelled here and ended up getting together.

Blog Lore:

The blog is set in 2020, roughly 2 years ahead of the real world’s time.

Alternate Universes: The Multiverse is a thing here, there are a few characters who come from alternate universes (Mainly the V3 kids, and an OC, Momo Kuzuryuu, an alternate universe daughter of Fuyuhiko and Mikan).

Time Travel: Five kids from the future (Sora Hijirihara, Mitsuru Nakamura, Kaede and Shuuichi Naegi, and Akio Hinata) travelled back into the past. Shuuichi came with his “Guardian Angel”, the ghost of Mukuro Ikusaba.

Ghosts and the afterlife: The Afterlife is a small town square, with a cinema to view the current happenings in the living world, and an odd, white building that leads to reincarnation. Current ghosts living at Hope’s Peak Academy are Natsumi Kuzuryuu and Kiyotaka Ishimaru.

Ghost Sacrifices: Ghosts can give up their existence to save the lives of dying humans. So far, this has happened three times, all noted up above.

Clones: In this world, the science to copy a person and recreate them exists. You wanna know the science? Ask @commander-bubbles-the-first. He’s the smart one around here. Current clones that exist are Ryouko Otonashi, a clone of Junko Enoshima, and Nine, a clone of Nagisa imbued with the abilities of Izuru Kamakura.

The Izuru Kamakura Project: Hajime Hinata was the eighth student to undergo the Izuru Kamakura project. Only one of the other eight survived.

Hope’s Peak Academy: Re-opened two years ago, with Makoto as the headmaster, it’s now just a school, no longer for the best of the best (though, it turns out that kids who come tend to have a talent of some kind anyways, go figure). The school finds itself under attack. A lot. Following Makoto’s disappearance, Byakuya Togami took over as headmaster.

Ultimate Despair: This once powerful terrorist group has now been reduced to a mere shell, with the largest ‘cell’, (if you can even call it that) being reduced to 4 people and a monster hiding in Seoul.

Invidia: A vigilante group that surfaced in April of this year, Invidia was responsible for starting a killing game full of kidnapped criminals, which was eventually shut down due to Monaca Towa and Kokichi Ouma working together, as well as Nine invading. They recently resurfaced with a bolstered membership, slaughtering their way through a prison, and are discussing whether or not to let a stoway from said prison join them.

Final note:

A lot of OCs have come and gone on this blog, some only leaving as recently as two arcs ago. It’s very likely that if you go through some older posts you will see them, but for most, their plotlines died when their characters left.

So uh, that’s a sorta kinda recap on this batshit crazy blog. Welcome! I hope I didn’t scare you off with all this.

[zhenyakatava]

the bajeks ||| 2 sisters

filip bajek and ania bajek met in poland during ania’s summer abroad before his freshman year of college at brown. her parents were second-generation immigrants who had forced her to venture to the homeland during his trek across europe — and she was glad she did, since she met flip there. she ended up spending the whole summer there getting to know him and, subsequently, falling in love with him. they bonded over their similar childhoods, nostalgic ways and love for classic literature, along with what felt like a million other things. when she had to return back for school, they continued to correspond through letters for the next two years until filip finally applied to schools in the states. she was at brown, he at yale, and they met up on weekends at their respective schools. when ania graduated from brown, filip proposed to her, and when he, in turn, graduated, they got married the following month in a small service abroad in poland. 

they didn’t take long to start having children - filip enrolled in graduate school at columbia, where ania was finishing up the last two years of her masters degree. she got pregnant - entirely unexpectedly - in her junior year, but neither of them ever stopped. determined as hell, ania had their first child, a daughter, the summer before her senior year and graduated with distinction. back at home and working on a book, she got pregnant with and had two more children in the following few years, resulting in a healthy family of five at the end of it all. 

back in new york city - filip’s hometown - for good, they settled down into an apartment in morningside heights. filip and ania had a very hands-off approach with their children, allowing them free reign of the apartment and, when the time came, of the entire city. they never had many rules, their parents trusting them to know wrong from right from the example they set. they’ve always been almost more like friends than they were ever parents, which caused issues here and there throughout the kids’ teenage years but they more than likely haven’t carried over into their adulthood. 

the ellises (ania’s sister’s kids) have always been a part of their life, almost more like siblings than cousins. any time their dad (if you could even call him that smh) decided to dip out on them, they always knew they would be welcome with the bajeks!!

tl;dr just a cute, happy family that’s probably a little too comfortable with each other?? it’s definitely not unusual for them to divulge personal information to each other that other siblings/cousins/kids/parents wouldn’t, and they have no idea why other people in their lives think it’s weird that they do it. they’re all more like best friends than siblings or cousins and they need each other to survive bc they’re codependent as hell

*all faces don’t absolutely have to be ashkenazi jewish if there’s not a perfect face that fits but it’s definitely preferred! the first suggestion for each sister below is my preference but i’m 1000% open to talking about it!! feel free to message me here or on discord (morg#3278) if you’re interested or have any questions!!

sister bajek, 25+, occupation (halston sage, reserved for erin)

chad bajek, 21, college student (timothee chalamet, morgan)

sister bajek, 18-21 or 22-24, occupation 

suggested faces: odeya rush, nicola peltz, kat langford, ella purnell

autumn ellis (cousin), ##, journalist @ glow mag (zoey deutch, maddie)

molly ellis (cousin), ##, occupation (bridget satterlee, alex)

[blackkudos]

Gladys Knight

Gladys Maria Knight (born May 28, 1944), known as the "Empress of Soul", is an American singer–songwriter and actress. A seven-time Grammy Award-winner, Knight is best known for the hits she recorded during the 1960s and 1970s, for both the Motown and Buddah Records labels, with her group Gladys Knight & the Pips, which also included her brother Merald "Bubba" Knight and her cousins Edward Patten and William Guest,

Early life

Knight was born in Atlanta, Georgia, the daughter of Merald Woodlow Knight, Sr., a postal worker and Sarah Elizabeth (née Woods). She first achieved minor fame by winning Ted Mack's The Original Amateur Hour TV show contest at the age of seven in 1952. The following year, she, her brother Merald, sister Brenda, and cousins William and Elenor Guest formed a musical group called the Pips (named after another cousin, James "Pip" Woods). By the end of the decade, the act had begun to tour, and had replaced Brenda Knight and Eleanor Guest with Gladys Knight's cousin Edward Patten and friend Langston George.

In 1961 the group recorded "Every Beat Of My Heart" on the tiny Atlanta Huntom label, which was picked up by Vee Jay. At the same time, the group signed with Bobby Robinson's Fury label. Both labels issued different versions of the song, with the Vee Jay/Huntom version outselling the Fury remake. With the success of their follow-up, "Letter Full Of Tears", Fury released their first album. They stayed with Fury through 1962, although the hits dried up. They signed with Larry Maxwell's Maxx label in 1964 and released several modest hits produced by Van McCoy, including the original version of "Giving Up" and "Lovers Always Forgive".

Success with the Pips

Gladys Knight & the Pips joined the Motown Records roster in 1966, and, although initially regarded as a second-string act, scored several major hit singles, including "I Heard It Through the Grapevine", (recorded first by Marvin Gaye but actually released a year later), Take Me in Your Arms and Love Me" (1967), "Friendship Train" (1969), "If I Were Your Woman" (1970), "I Don't Want To Do Wrong" (1971), the "Grammy Award winning "Neither One of Us (Wants to Be the First to Say Goodbye)" (1972), and "Daddy Could Swear (I Declare)" (1973). In their early Motown career, Gladys Knight and the Pips toured as the opening act for Diana Ross and The Supremes. Gladys Knight stated in her memoirs that Ross kicked her off the tour because the audience's reception to Knight's soulful performance overshadowed her. Berry Gordy later told Gladys that she was giving his act a hard time.

The act eventually left Motown for a better deal with Buddah Records in 1973, and achieved full-fledged success that year with hits such as the Grammy-winning "Midnight Train to Georgia" (#1 on the pop and R&B chart), "I've Got to Use My Imagination," "The Way We Were/Try To Remember" and "You're the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me". In the summer of 1974, Knight and the Pips recorded the soundtrack to the successful film Claudine with producer Curtis Mayfield. The act was particularly successful in Europe, and especially the United Kingdom. However, a number of the Buddah singles became hits in the UK long after their success in the US. For example, "Midnight Train to Georgia" hit the UK pop charts Top 5 in the summer of 1976, a full three years after its success in the U.S.

During this period of greater recognition, Knight made her motion picture acting debut in the film, Pipe Dreams, a romantic drama set in Alaska. The film failed at the box-office, but Knight did receive a Golden Globe Best New Actress nomination.

Knight and the Pips continued to have hits until the late 1970s, when they were forced to record separately due to legal issues, resulting in Knight's first solo LP recordings--Miss Gladys Knight (1978) on Buddah and Gladys Knight (1979) on Columbia Records. Having divorced James Newman II in 1973, Knight married Barry Hankerson (future uncle of R&B singer Aaliyah), then Detroit mayor Coleman Young's executive aide. Knight and Hankerson remained married for four years, during which time they had a son, Shanga Ali. Upon their divorce, Hankerson and Knight were embroiled in a heated custody battle over Shanga Ali.

In the early 1980s, Johnny Mathis invited Gladys to record two duets – "When A Child Is Born" (previously a hit for Mathis) and "The Lord's Prayer".

Signing with Columbia Records in 1980 and restored to its familiar quartet form, Gladys Knight & the Pips began releasing new material. The act enlisted former Motown producers Nickolas Ashford and Valerie Simpson for their first two albums--About Love (1980) and Touch (1981). During this period, Knight kicked a gambling addiction to the game baccarat.

In 1983 Gladys Knight and the Pips scored again with the hit "Save The Overtime For Me". The song, under the artistic direction of Leon Sylvers III (known for collaborating on Shalamar hits), was done in a soulful boogie style. The single was released from their LP "Visions" and reached number sixty-six on the Hot 100, but was more successful on the R&B where it hit number one for a single week in mid 1983. The single was the first time the group hit number one on the R&B chart since 1974.

In 1987 Knight decided to pursue a solo career and she and the Pips recorded their final LP together, All Our Love (1987), for MCA Records. Its infectious lead single, "Love Overboard", was a #1 R&B hit and won another Grammy for the act as well. After a successful 1988 tour, the Pips retired and Knight began her solo career. Gladys Knight & the Pips were inducted into the Georgia Music Hall of Fame in 1989 and into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1996.

Solo music career

While still with the Pips, Gladys joined with Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder, and Elton John on the 1986 AIDS benefit single, "That's What Friends Are For", a triple #1 mega-hit, which won a Grammy for Best Pop Performance By A Duo Or Group With Vocal. In 1989 she recorded the title track "License to Kill" for the James Bond movie Licence to Kill, a Top 10 hit in the UK and Germany.

Gladys released her third and most successful solo LP, Good Woman, on MCA in 1991. It hit #1 on the R&B album chart and featured the #2 R&B hit "Men". It also reached #45 on the main Billboard album chart – her all-time highest showing. The album also featured "Superwoman", written by Babyface and featuring Dionne Warwick and Patti LaBelle. The track was also nominated for a Grammy Award. Knight and LaBelle would collaborate the same year on "I Don't Do Duets", a duet with Patti LaBelle from LaBelle's album Burnin'.

Her fourth solo LP, Just for You, went Gold and was nominated for the 1995 Grammy Award for Best R&B Album.

In 1992 Vernon Ray Blue II, choir master of the year asked Gladys to record his first single "He Lifted Me"

Knight created and now directs the Mormon-themed choir Saints Unified Voices. SUV has released a Grammy Award-winning CD titled One Voice, and occasionally performs at LDS church firesides.

In April 2004, Knight performed during the VH1's benefit concert Divas Live 2004 alongside Ashanti, Cyndi Lauper, Jessica Simpson, Joss Stone and Patti LaBelle, in support of the Save the Music Foundation.

In 2005 a duet between Knight and the late Ray Charles of "You Were There" was released on Charles' duets album Genius & Friends.

In 2008 a duet between Knight and Johnny Mathis was released on Mathis' album A Night to Remember.

In the spring of 2008, Knight appeared alongside Chaka Khan, Patti Labelle and Diana Ross at the 'Divas with Heart' concert in aid of cardiac research, at New York's Radio City Hall.

In 2008 Gladys, Jack Black, Robert Downey Jr. and Ben Stiller performed on American Idol to raise money for charity. In March 2010, Randy Jackson mentioned on a new episode of the same show that he is back in the studio with Gladys Knight working on a new album.

In 2009 Knight sang "His Eye Is On The Sparrow" and "The Lord's Prayer" at the funeral service for Michael Jackson.

In December 2010, Knight released the single "Settle".

In September 2011, a new, updated recording of Tom Jones' 1970 classic I (Who Have Nothing) was released on iTunes and Amazon.

In 2013 Knight recorded the Lenny Kravitz written and produced song "You And I Ain't Nothin' No More" for the soundtrack from Lee Daniels' motion picture The Butler. The song was added to the movie's soundtrack of older songs by various artists so that the producers had a song to compete in the Best Song from a Motion Picture category at the Academy Awards.

Where My Heart Belongs (2014) marked her 30th top 40 R&B album, including work by Gladys Knight & the Pips. In a 2014, interview she expressed a hope that women would "Stand Up" and stop selling sex in the music/entertainment industry. She commented that the growing trend saddened her heart and that she had been taught to dress respectfully for her audiences . . . "not take it off, put it on." Knight is ranked number eighteen on VH1 network's list of the 100 Greatest Women of Rock.

UK Farewell Tour

In October 2009, Knight started her farewell tour of the United Kingdom which featured Tito Jackson as her supporting act and special appearances by Dionne Warwick.

The UK Farewell Tour featured higher production value than previous "Gladys Knight, a mic and a light" appearances by Gladys in the UK. A glossy program was available and the show featured pre-produced animation on large on-stage screens. The tour was promoted by an appearance on the TV program Later... with Jools Holland where Knight performed "If I Were Your Woman" and "Help Me Make It Through the Night".

At select performances on the UK Farewell Tour recordings of the concerts were made available for sale on USB flash drives.

Acting

Film

In 1976 Knight made her acting debut as the lead in the film Pipe Dreams for which she was nominated for a Golden Globe Award for New Star of the Year – Actress. In 2003, she had a short role in the hit movie Hollywood Homicide, which starred Harrison Ford and Josh Hartnett. In 2009, Knight was featured in Tyler Perry's I Can Do Bad All By Myself, the film version of a play he had dramatized, and performed her song "The Need To Be" from the 1974 album I Feel a Song.

Television

Knight guest-starred on several television series throughout the 1980s and 1990s, with roles on Benson, The Jeffersons, A Different World, Living Single, The Jamie Foxx Show, and New York Undercover. In 1985, she co-starred on the CBS sitcom Charlie & Co. alongside comedian Flip Wilson, which lasted for one season. In April 2009, she made a special guest appearance, and performed a song, on Tyler Perry's House Of Payne. Knight has also made a number of television cameo appearances, including Las Vegas and 30 Rock. In 2012, she began a recurring role in the syndicated sitcom The First Family.

In 2012 Knight competed on the fourteenth season of ABC's Dancing with the Stars, partnered with Tristan MacManus. They were eliminated on April 24 after losing a "dance duel" to Disney Channel star Roshon Fegan and partner Chelsie Hightower, ironically on the show's "Motown Week."

Gladys Knight & Ron Winans' Chicken & Waffles

Knight's son Shanga owns a chain of chicken and waffles restaurants based in Atlanta, bearing her name. Gladys Knight & Ron Winans' Chicken & Waffles currently have three locations in the Atlanta area. One location was featured on the Travel Channel original series Man v. Food. On Tuesday, June 21, 2016, authorities in Georgia raided two of the restaurants and its headquarters. WSB-TV reported that Shanga is at the center of an investigation involving unpaid taxes, penalties and interest. Georgia Department of Revenue Special Investigations Chief Jeff Mitchell told the station that the investigation solely involved Hankerson and not Knight. “Shanga's accused of stealing over $650,000 in both sales and withholding tax,” Josh Waites, a special investigator, told WSB-TV. “(With) penalties and interest, it’s up to over $1 million owed.”

Personal life

Knight has been married four times and has three children. In 1960, she married her high school sweetheart, James Newman. They had one son, James "Jimmy" Newman (1962–1999). She retired from the road to raise their child while the Pips toured on their own. In 1963, after having her only daughter, Kenya, Knight returned to recording with the Pips in order to support her family. In the early 1960s, Gladys, James, and the Pips moved to Detroit, Michigan. Knight and her family lived on Sherbourne in Sherwood Forest, an upscale neighborhood on Detroit's West Side. She also resided on LaSalle for a time. Her children attended Gesu Catholic Grade School. Newman and Knight divorced in 1973. In 1974, Knight married producer and Blackground Records founder Barry Hankerson, who is the uncle of the late R&B singer Aaliyah, in Detroit. Around 1977, they relocated to Atlanta. (The Pips, however, remained in Detroit.) The couple had one son, Shanga Hankerson, and divorced in 1981. Knight married motivational speaker Les Brown in 1995, but they separated and divorced in 1997.

Previously a Baptist, in 1997 she was baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, following her son and daughter. She had occasionally teased LDS Church president, the late Gordon B. Hinckley, that his flock needs to inject some "pep" into their music. Knight married William McDowell in 2001. They have sixteen grandchildren and six great-grandchildren.

In 2017, Knight helped raise $400,000 for the Children's Learning Centers of Fairfield County. The April 22nd event was held at the Palace Theatre and was co-hosted by Carol Anne Riddell and Alan Kalter.

Legacy

In 1996, Gladys Knight & the Pips were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. One year before, Knight had received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. In 2007, Knight received the Society of Singers ELLA Award at which time she was declared the "Empress of Soul". She is listed on Rolling Stone's list of the Greatest Singers of All Time.

Awards, honors and achievements

Grammy Awards

Other awards and honors

1992: Essence Award for Career Achievement

1995: Hollywood Walk of Fame

1997: Trumpet Awards Foundation Pinnacle Award

2005: BET Lifetime Achievement Award

2006: Las Vegas Music Awards Legendary Award

2007: NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Jazz Artist

2007: Society of Singers Ella Award, also declared the "Empress of Soul"

2008: BET Inaugural Best Living Legend Award

2008: Stardust Music Awards Lifetime Diva Award

2008: National Black Arts Festival Honoree at Legends Celebration

2011: Soul Train Music Awards Lifetime Achievement Award

Academic honors

Honorary Doctorate in Performing Arts, Shaw University

Discography

Billboard Number 1 R&B Albums

Neither One of Us (1973)

Imagination (1973)

Claudine (1974)

I Feel a Song (1974)

All Our Love (1987)

Good Woman (1991)

Billboard Number 1 R&B Singles

"Every Beat of My Heart" (1961)

"I Heard It Through the Grapevine" (1968)

"If I Were Your Woman" (1970)

"Neither One of Us (Wants to Be the First to Say Goodbye)" (1973)

"Midnight Train to Georgia" (1973)

"I've Got to Use My Imagination" (1973)

"You're the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me" (1974)

"I Feel a Song (In My Heart)" (1974)

"Save the Overtime (For Me)" (1983)

"That's What Friends Are For" (1985)

"Love Overboard" (1987)

Published works

Knight, Gladys. At Home With Gladys Knight, McGraw-Hill, 2001 – ISBN 1-58040-075-2

Knight, Gladys. Between Each Line of Pain and Glory: My Life Story, Hyperion Press, 1998 – ISBN 0-7868-8371-5

Wikipedia

[joyfullynervouscreator]

Seeking safety

“Uncle Dwaaaaalin!” Fili cried. Dwalin sighed, turned at the right moment to catch the small body hurtling towards him from across the market square.

“Aye, ma wee rascal,” he chuckled, swinging the lad up and holding him securely as he looked around for Dís, frowning at Fíli when he couldn’t see her. Then he realised the tears that were still flowing down the small face, and his frown deepened. “Hush yer tears, lad, tell me what’s achin ye,” he rumbled, looking the dwarfling over carefully, but finding no obvious hurts. Fíli shook his head, hiding his face against Dwalin’s tunic, wetting the green cloth with his tears and snot. Rocking the small body, Dwalin hummed, rubbing his large palm against Fíli’s shaking back.

“Amad…” Fíli whimpered, the rest of his words the kind of oft-incomprehensible almost-speak of the very young. Dwalin frowned. It was unlike Dís to leave the boy running around without supervision, and even if she had taken him somewhere, Fíli knew better than to run away from her or Princess Frís. Thorin had made dwarfling-proof locks for the whole house even before Fíli began crawling, so it was unlikely the little lad had simply walked out the door. Cradling him securely in one arm, Dwalin whistled for the attention of a nearby young dwarf, handing him a copper bit to fetch one of the off-duty guards from the nearest guardhouse to relieve his own post. He ignored the cooing of Lady Jara, who was whispering with her friend about what a splendid figure he cut with a babe in arms.

When the replacement arrived promptly – being Captain had some perks, holding the now-quiet Crown Prince had others in regards to swift obedience – Dwalin slowly made his way to their house. Keeping an eye out for his good-sister – who had all but demanded he call her that, even if he and Thorin were not officially married – Dwalin felt worried that she was not out calling or searching for Fíli.

“Frís,” he called, ducking into the house. “Dís?” Dwalin’s strong voice rang through the rooms, but no reply came. Feeling more than worried now, he made his way through the house, searching for one of the two dams. Little Fíli was sucking his thumb, cuddling against Dwalin’s broad chest. All was well in his world, security restored, but Dwalin did not share his serenity.

“Dwalin?” Frís’ voice was hesitant, and he caught something off in it, a thread of discord he could not place.

“Aye,” he called, carefully covering Fíli’s lips with his hand, but the boy was silent, staring at him with his Durin-blue eyes calm in the face that always reminded Dwalin of Víli. “Just came by for a new tunic,” he lied, inching closer to the room where Frís voice had originated. “Some wee clotheid at the market ran straight into me; spilling water everywhere.” He didn’t know if Frís would realise that he was really talking about Fíli; repeating words he had spoken only that morning when Fíli had knocked over a pail of water, dousing his socks and the kitchen floor.

“Aye?” Frís replied, a note of relief in her speech now that told him she understood. “I’m afraid all your tunics are in the wash, dear. Go get one off Thorin in the forge if you really need it. Oh, and your friend with the red hair was here earlier, he said you needed to visit the holding cells; apparently, they’ve caught the Fox.” Dwalin praised Mahal that Prince Thraín had chosen a clever dam for his wife; Frís was as wily as a fox herself, and she’d managed to tell him all he needed to know. Namely that he should not come to her room, because she was being held captive inside, but call for reinforcements and seek information from Nori, the recently appointed Black Owl.

“Ahh, thanks,” he yelled back. “I’ll be on my way then!”

Closing the front door behind him, Dwalin broke into a run.

  In the forge that Thorin used when he was in Ered Luin, he found his One, working on a piece of metal that would eventually become a kettle. Hollering an order to stop work as soon as possible from outside the door, Dwalin waited until he had the attention of the three smiths within. Young Athalrún, Master Kata’s apprentice, was making nails, and finished quickly, staring openmouthedly at the large guardsdwarf holding a sleeping dwarfling. Master Kata herself, apparently making horseshoes, finished second, her stare no less incredulous that Athalrún’s, but Thorin did not look up for a full five minutes, leaving Dwalin’s annoyance and fear spiking his heartbeat into his throat.

“Dwalin?” he gaped, when he finally looked up. “What are you doing here? It’s not yet dinner time.” The Prince of Durin’s Folk – he was King, but refused to be addressed thusly, still believing that Thraín would return to them – asked, confused, but happy to see his One. His happiness dimmed when Dwalin’s expression registered properly, the presence of sleeping Fíli only adding to his confusion.

“You have to come with me,” Dwalin barked. Thorin glared, gesturing at the would-be kettle. Dwalin shook his head. “Frís is still in the house, but she is not alone – and not by choice. I don’t know where Dís is… or Kíli,” he admitted. “Fíli found me at the market, terrified.”

“Kata… can I leave my sister-son with you for now?” Thorin asked, when the implications of Dwalin’s words sank in. Master Kata nodded, young Athalrún swiftly moving to take the dwarfling from his uncle. Dwalin exchanged a nod with the smith, terse and worried, as Thorin threw his tunic over his head, not bothering to tie the laces. Picking up a sword he had finished a few days before, he was as armed as he could get without returning to their home. Dwalin distantly noted that they ought to remedy that oversight.

  In the street outside the forges, they were met by the lanky young dwarf with red hair whom Dwalin knew as Nori, but who carried the token that meant the rest of the Guard knew him as the Black Owl, Thorin’s Spymaster. He was accompanied by a swiftly assembled force of Dwalin’s own men, led by the redoubtable Álfífa, who nodded tersely at her Captain.

“The Princess-Consort is unharmed, your sister is seemingly unconscious, and the pebble is with Lady Frís,” Nori rattled off quickly. Neither Durinson asked how he knew, simply accepting the stated as fact. “There are four assailants, though my observations lead me to believe they want your head, King Thorin, and feel quite content to let your sister take the throne.”

“Plans?” Thorin asked. Dwalin nodded.

“Beryl-2.” he growled. They had long since gone over their home with the aid of some of the best criminals – Nori was surprisingly devious and simply pretended that he’d stolen the floor plans and wanted to rob the Royal Family – in Ered Luin. The result was a list of plans of attack, designed to enable them to subdue any intruders quickly, using different access points and even a few secret tunnels they had added after the blueprints for the large house had been shown to Nori’s crew of would-be robbers.

  The execution was flawless, and the whole thing was over in less than five minutes. The only casualty was a deep slash across Dwalin’s eye, from temple to nose, that he had suffered when one of the rebels had decided to abandon their plans and simply kill all the Durins, beginning with the unconscious Dís. Clever use of a few of Frís’ silk scarves had the assassins bound at Thorin’s feet, their own socks stuffed into their mouths. One of them lay dead in the corner, Nori’s dagger sticking out of his eye; that was the one who’d gotten lucky enough to cut Dwalin’s face up. Frís remained seated, holding on to her youngest grandchild and glaring death at the trespassers. Dís was quietly snoring, she’d been sedated somehow, though Nori had at least picked her up off the floor and placed her on Frís’ sofa. The Black Owl had sent off one of the guards to fetch healer Óin, the rest standing watch over the prisoners as Thorin tried to calm his raging heart by stemming the bleeding with strips torn from his own shirt. Dwalin submitted to the ridiculous treatment, forgoing to mention the rolls of bandage material they kept in the pantry. Dwalin knew that his beloved needed to feel useful, feel the life pulsing beneath his skin, to keep away the images his mind would conjure whenever Dwalin was badly injured, the images of his dead brother, but superimposed with Dwalin’s own face as Thorin lit the pyre. Azanulbizar was still too close for all of them, even now, 70 years after the terrible day. Knowing all this, Dwalin just sat still, letting Thorin hold the wad of cloth against his face and running his warm hands gently up and down his sides, calming strokes of hands on skin, much like he had done with Fíli earlier.

    “Aye, ye’ll have a nice scar, Cousin,” Óin murmured – he’d always been a bit odd like that, Dwalin thought, but he was a good healer – after he’d cleaned the cut. “I could stitch it, but it’s not that deep, might heal better without; it’s already closing nicely.”

“And his eye?” Thorin barked, his hand tight on Dwalin’s shoulder.

“Don’t have a problem with me eye, kurkarukê,” Dwalin rumbled, bringing his hand up to squeeze Thorin’s, to still the panicked memories of the last time he’d been injured – the warg-bite had been far more severe than this smallish cut, however, Dwalin knew.

“Indeed,” Óin nodded his agreement, “the blade missed his eye-lid, bouncing off the eye-brow’s bone. Like I said, you’ll have a scar, but that’s all, Cousin.” That didn’t stop him from slathering some salve – Óin was very keen on his ‘Óin’s to-mends’; they’d been referred to as ointments for years now, but he insisted on pronouncing it properly – on Dwalin’s cut, the pungent herby smell making him sneeze.

“And it won’t be… like last time?” Thorin mumbled.

“No,” Dwalin replied, glaring at Óin who wisely kept silent. “That was a warg’s bite, Thorin, they’re filthy creatures.”

“In all likelihood, the wound was beginning to fester even before you got home,” Óin agreed, “once the rot has set in, there’s little to be done besides bringing the fever down and washing out the pus.” Sometimes, Dwalin thought, he really hated his cousin. Thorin was turning pale; he had a protective streak a mile wide, much like Dwalin himself, which made him a caring ruler, but also a fretting bear every time someone he loved got hurt.

“Can ye wake up Dís, Cousin?” Dwalin asked brusquely, turning Thorin’s mind away from the time he nearly died from wound-sickness and redirecting both their attentions to Dís. In Frís’ arms, the pebble was beginning to whimper in hunger – a sentiment Dwalin currently shared, his rumbling gut pointed out.

“Oh, sure, sure,” Óin muttered, shuffling – for some reason he always moved like an old dwarf – over to the sofa to study Dís’ lightly snoring form.

“Where is Fíli?” Frís asked, as the summoned guards swiftly bundled off the captured plotters, hauling off the dead dwarf too.

“The forge,” Thorin replied absentmindedly while staring at Dís.

“Mayhap you should go get him, while Frís and I get started on supper?” Dwalin suggested softly, one of his hands still wrapped around Thorin’s.

“Dís will want to see him safe as soon as she wakes,” Thorin nodded, giving Dwalin a wry smile. “I’m being annoying, aren’t I?” Dwalin chuckled.

“Nay, Thorin, you just… I love you.” Getting to his feet, Dwalin stole a quick kiss before heading off to the kitchen, hearing Thorin’s laughter fill the room behind him. Dwalin smirked.

[fortey]

In the Deep Dark: Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Bumps in the Night

Sunrise from a Denny’s window is less beautiful than a sunrise should be.  Sara stirs a cold coffee with a tiny spoon while Cooper finishes some toast.  They never bothered getting a room, opting instead to while away the night in the company of drunks and unhappy Denny’s employees near a freeway offramp.  In over six hours of conversation they managed to not once address why they had come to Denny’s at all.

Cooper watches his wife; a bright, fearsome sun rising in the distance behind her, promising another scorching hot day.    She stirs incessantly, a manifestation of her nervousness.  Throughout the years it has taken on any number of forms, from nail biting to finger tapping to foot shaking.  Some kind of busy work to occupy herself with.  Watching her now he feels weak and foolish.  She is everything he has worth anything in the world. Money and things he has never felt a connection to, even as a child he was never one to bug for new toys when they were at the store or harass his parents to take him to McDonalds or buy candy. Treats were fine, but fleeting. His child’s mind had a rudimentary understanding of that, maybe because of what happened to his grandmother, it was hard to say.  What mattered were people.  Relationships.  Love. And he loves Sara.  But failed her.  Ran with her because it seemed the reasonable option in an unreasonable circumstance.

“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he says suddenly.  He doesn’t.  Hasn’t. It’s a silly notion.  If you die, what are your options?  An atheist says you stop existing.  Christian says you go to Heaven.  Hindu says you get reincarnated.  Who says you come back as a ghost?  Gypsies?  Druids? And why?  To hide flashlights? Make shadow puppets?  It’s idiotic.  If you survive death in some kind of non-corporeal form, what would you honestly want to do with your time?  It can’t be play jokes.  Haunt people. Be an asshole.  To what end?  

“Neither do I.”  She looks up at him, stops stirring her coffee.  He had never had a spiritual side, wasn’t religious, but never claimed to be an atheist either.  He simply had no belief system.  Sara had been raised Christian, attended a non-denominational church as a child, but had given up on it in her late teens when she felt their message had become obtrusive and conflicted.  Too many people were judgmental, self-righteous and arrogant.  She still believed in God, felt in her heart that there was a God, but Church was not the place to find him.  Church was where the oppressive tried to dominate the weak and confused. It was just another clique of people who condemned anyone who didn’t do as everyone else did.  It was a shame.  People with good intentions being twisted to something ugly.  Still, none of that accounted for ghosts.

“So what do you think it was?” she asks as she continues stirring.  She has two answers for that question herself.  One is “I don’t know,” not so much an answer as a cry for help.  The other, unfortunately, is a ghost.  The absurdity of it is almost funny.  Would be funny if she hadn’t have been so terrified the night before.  A moving shadow and a flashlight and nothing more. And she had never been so scared in her entire life.

“Ghost,” he says finally, sipping a glass of orange juice.  He knows it’s a dumb answer as well, but there’s not much to be done for it.  Not to say it is a ghost, it’s just the only thing either of them can think of.

“We bought a haunted house,” Sara says.  He doesn’t answer.  It is the stupidest thing he has ever heard made exponentially stupider by the fact it is what he thinks also.  A shadow. A rolling flashlight.  From these things he took his wife and ran away. His mission in life here, and now, is her happiness.  He has felt that since the moment he realized he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life.  They will have ups and downs because that is the way of the world, they will argue over how to spend their money, and what to eat for dinner, and how to properly make the bed because he never tucks the sheets in properly no matter how many times she shows him.  And none of that matters if she is happy.  Overall happy.  Which is all he ever wants.  So when they sit next to each other to watch a movie, or read together in bed, or shower together and end up so sweaty they need a second shower to clean up from the first shower, it’s for that reason.  Because he loves her.  And running away from a goddamn haunted house does not fit into that pattern at all.

“So do we call someone?” she asks, still stirring, making little figure eights.

“Ghostbusters?” he says, forcing a smile.  She shrugs and half nods.

“My cousin Laura married Ernie Hudson’s nephew,” she says.  He takes a moment with that before she laughs.  “He was Winston Zedmore.  Come on.”

“Not sure he can help,” Cooper says.  He wants this to be funny.  He wants to joke.  But it’s not. And he can’t.

“Well maybe someone can.  Someone must know about this stuff, for real.  If it’s really happening.”  It makes sense.  As much as it can.

“I can Google it, I guess,” he says.  The odds on that not turning up a million results ranging from Scooby Doo fanfic to actual torrents of the Ghostbusters movie are pretty slim, but there’s probably a forum somewhere with sincere people discussing the topic of ghosts and hauntings.  The only issue from there will be weeding out the people who are completely and utterly insane or bullshit artists.  So basically it’s a needle in a haystack situation.

“Unless you have a better idea,” Sara adds.  Cooper shakes his head.  Buying a new house comes to mind, but two in one week is a little excessive.  Maybe he could call the realtor, see if one of the construction workers who built the house died or something. Old houses are supposed to be haunted, not brand new ones.  It’s shit like this that killed the housing market.

“I got nothing.  Nothing but a time travelling flashlight and dancing shadows.  Everyone is going to think were crazy or potheads or something.”

“Potheads, honey?  Seriously?” She laughs openly now.  Cooper never really experimented with drugs, was always a bit more straight laced and nerdy than all that.  He drank underaged, that was big, but never tried pot until he was in his mid twenties.  He giggled at an episode of an old cartoon then fell asleep.  It was underwhelming in the extreme.

“I don’t know.  Meth addicts? LSD aficionados? “

“Exactly. Come on, we’ll find someone.  I’m tired as hell and I want to sleep in our bed in our house, so let’s get this fixed, OK?”  She stands, ready to go, and Cooper is a moment behind her, tossing some money on the table, finishing his juice.  

“What if it’s not fixable?” he asks.  The possibility has to exist.

“Try to be optimistic,” she suggests.  He rolls his eyes as they leave the restaurant.

“But really though, what if it isn’t?  Have you ever heard of this happening to someone?  For real?”  They stop at the car, looking at each other across the hood.  The world around them is slowly coming to life as the sun rises; cars filling the street, bird song filling the air.  And the heat is building.

“I don’t know, hon.  It’s scary. You’re scared, I get that.  I’m scared too.  And I feel stupid saying it’s a ghost and we should Google someone to help us but I can’t think of anything else and I doubt if we tell anyone they’ll be much more helpful.  Like you said, they’ll think we’re LSD fiends.”

“Aficionados,” he says, correcting her.  

“Brat. In the car, we’ve got Ghostbusters to Google.”

The drive back to the house includes the serenade of morning DJs proclaiming a potential new high temperature today and promising $103.10 for the first caller to correctly identify a snippet of song that for all the world sounds like a fart and an electric guitar riff.  No one gets it right by the time they get home.

“Now that’s going to haunt me, too,” Sara says as she pulls into the driveway of their new home.  The outside of the house looks perfectly normal.  Pretty, even.  It’s a nice house.  Grey brick, large windows, nicely landscaped yard.  Nothing is out of place, no ominous figures in the windows.  It doesn’t look haunted.

Inside the house is cold, the central air still humming along peacefully.  Sara opens some curtains quickly, letting light spill into the room while Cooper takes his laptop from the living room table and sits on the sofa.

“So we keep the door open and sit here in a nice, sunny room.  Ghosts hate shit like this,” Sara says.  Cooper signs into the computer and waits as it boots up.

“Is that like an official rule?”

“Evil stuff never happens in the middle of the day in movies,” she offers.  He nods.  He’s fairly certain that’s not true of a lot of movies, but it doesn’t matter. If they’re basing their plans on The Shining then they’re pretty much screwed all around.

Bringing up a Firefox window Cooper pauses, looking at Google’s homepage.  He stares.  Sara stares at him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.  

“Not sure. What do I look for?  Ghost busters?”

“Paranormal researchers,” she says.  “You need to watch more TV.”  He types it in quickly, adding the city name as an afterthought.  14.5 million results.  

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he says to himself.  She reads over his shoulder and frowns.

“Try that one,” she suggests, pointing to the first on the list.  GLIPA.  Great Lakes Investigators of Paranormal Activity.  According to their website they work across several states but cannot legally work in Canada.  Good to know.

The website loads quickly and features a dark city skyline and the group’s stylized logo.  Cooper skims the tabs on the site and chooses “about us.”  The background remains the same as the new page loads biographies of three people, complete with photos.  Cooper shakes his head.

“Jesus, they look like morons,” he says quietly.  Sara smacks shoulder.

“Be nice. They don’t all look like morons. Just that guy.”  She’s right and the first image, a man named Dennis Kolchak, does look quite moronic.  His photo is of a man in a long, pale trench coat and matching fedora, a cheap tie, and an overly groomed mustache and goatee combo.  He appears to be maybe in his mid 50s and his bio proclaims he is the lead investigator and a parapsychologist.  Below him are two assistant investigators and students, Timothy Best and Jennifer Locke.  Jennifer looks like a typical college girl, a skinny brunette with her hair in a pony tail and bookish glasses, while Timothy appears to have a faux hawk and a band t shirt.

“We cannot call these people,” Cooper says.  Sara reads over his shoulder, ignoring him.

“It says he’s done this for over 10 years.”

“I could make a website and say I’m Jesus,” Cooper counters.  Sara scowls, leaning forward and slamming his laptop shut. His protest is cut short by the look on her face.

“Cooper, I want to know what the fuck happened last night and so do you.  Your stubbornness is cute, I get that you don’t like change, I do.  It’s who you are and I love you no matter what but stop being so fucking…you.  Do you want to know what happened or do you want to shrug it off and just hope it never happens again and then, if it does, maybe try to deal with it later?” She’s in his face, her body still pressed against his, her gaze inescapable.  It is awkward in the extreme.  He doesn’t like disappointing her and she knows this, and he also deals poorly with direct confrontation.  Even eye contact is difficult to maintain in situations like this.  Still, he holds her gaze, returns it, his jaw set, teeth clenched.

“I want us to be safe.  I’m nervous. I feel like if these are the wrong people, then what? I don’t want to waste our time.”

“No more a waste than doing nothing,” Sara says.  She’s right, of course.  Infuriating habit she has.

“Fine. You call them.  I’m going to check our room.”  

Sara stares at him dumbfounded for a moment while he opens his computer again and punches in the password so she can get to the website.

“Why do you want to check our room?”  It’s a good question.  Valid. And the implication that he’s crazy is not lost on him.  It is crazy, isn’t it?  He feels that.  And at the same time, there’s a compulsion.  A need to be sure, despite there being no need for that surety.  Of course he’s sure.  He experienced what he experienced with her.  It was real.  Simple and terrifying and real.  Why venture to that room again?  

“Just a feeling.  Like I need to.  I think,” he answers, standing.  Her expression is worried and disbelieving.

“Just stay here.  Check when these people show up.  I’m sure you’re not missing anything you don’t need to miss.”

“If there’s something here, then it’s not like our bedroom is any more special than this room, right?”  he gestures around the living room to make his point.  As he does so the central air clicks on.  There is a brief moment as he’s about to turn and head towards the bedroom when he feels he’s made his point and before he even lifts his foot he stops.  The air thrums, bursts through the vents.  But the house was humming when they got in.

“Hon.” It’s all he can say.  Sara looks at him, sees his expression, reacts quickly. She takes the computer in one hand and stands.  The curtains rustle along the windows.  With a gust of chilled air, the front door swings closed.  The curtains sail along curtain rods, covering the open windows. The material is so thin, almost sheer, but the light is blocked.  The room becomes impossibly dark.  It’s not even noon and inside, night has fallen.

“Cooper!” The light of the computer screen is the only source of illumination in the room. In the white glow of the GLIPA website Sara grabs Cooper’s hand and they stand together.  The central air rages; icy gusts of wind bellow into the room. The sound from the bowels of the house is like an old steam engine chugging along, metal clanging and thumping. The couple stand together in stillness.

“Try the door,” he says.  She turns without question and grabs the knob, hisses as she pulls her hand away.

“Jesus, it’s freezing.”  She pulls her shirt away from her body, wrapping her hand in it and tries again. The knob makes a creaking sound but does not turn.

“I can’t open it.”  Her voice is rising to panic.  Cooper nods, takes a large amethyst crystal off of the living room bookshelf.

“Watch yourself,” he advises, hurling the heavy purple stone at the nearest window. The large pane of glass absorbs the blow with a dull thud.  The rock slides to the floor as though it were nothing more than rotten fruit.  His breathing is becoming faster, ragged. “Well, that didn’t work.”  She squeezes his hand tightly and they just stand in their dark living room.  The air blows on them like a blast chiller, the sounds from the basement are like basketballs being thrown at old garbage cans, loud and cacophonous.

Sara wraps her arms around Cooper as the sound rises, rages and shakes the house. Glasses in the kitchen shake free from shelves and smash to the floor, books tumble, paintings and pictures come loose from the walls as they hold each other.  Sara buries her face in Cooper’s chest as the bookshelf pulls away from the wall and smashes down, shattering the glass top coffee table.

The television screen blazes white then explodes outwards and Cooper holds Sara tightly, turning his back to the spray of glass, gritting his teeth as tiny shards dig into his back and legs.  The roar from the basement is like a train and suddenly it stops.

The silence that follows is total.  Sara shudders in her husband’s arms as they warily begin to loosen their grip on one another.  In the darkness with only the computer screen, now discarded on the floor, offering light, there is no way to survey the damage or to guess at why it stopped.

“We need to go,” Sara whispers, sobs.  Cooper nods, unsure of how to proceed.  The tinkle of broken glass in the kitchen causes him to stiffen.  It’s faint at first, like someone bumping a garbage bag with a broken glass in the bottom.  And then again.

Glass crunches.  More breaks but it is controlled this time.  It is not glasses falling from shelves or picture frames hurled from walls. It is a slow, purposeful crunching and cracking, pressure being applied to glass.

Crunch. The sound is like a footstep. Crunch. Another.  And another.  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.  From the kitchen, growing closer, heading towards the hall.  Towards the living room.  In the darkness the hall and the kitchen are only blackness, an emptiness beyond a tiny globe of electronic, white light.

Crunch.

Sara pulls away from Cooper and grabs the doorknob again.  He can hear the hiss of her flesh when it touches, an almost squeal before she cries out and tries to pull her hand free.  There is a brief moment of resistance before an audible tear and she screams,  cradling her hand against her chest.  He takes her arm, ignoring the sound in the darkness and turns her hand in the light, sees where the layer of flesh has been ripped free, the palm of her hand and fingers raw and red from the extreme cold.

Crunch. Crunch.

In the hall now.  Footsteps. Something walking in the glass, slowly, tortuously slow.  Taunting. Cooper grabs the computer and leads Sara to a window, keeps himself between her and the hall as he pushes a new sofa out of the way and scrambles across the floor for the amethyst chunk. The black glass of the window reacts like a wall of rubber as he slams the stone into it again and again.

With a growl of frustration he turns his attention to the wall itself, slamming the rock between two windows gouging a chunk from the drywall.  Again and again the stone digs and gouges the wall, tearing free small chunks.

Crunch.

The steps stop at the entrance to the living room.  Cooper slams the rock into the wall a final time and turns, keeping himself and the rock between his wife and the sound.  In his other hand he raises the computer.  The soft, white light casts a dull glow over the entire room. And the doorway.

Crunch.

Cooper’s breath freezes in his lungs.  He stares, immobile.  The form in the doorway might look like a man if caught quickly, from the corner of your eye in passing.  It is assembled in a man’s shape; legs and arms and on top…a single, jagged pane of mirror.

The body is shattered glass of all kinds; dishes, glasses, windows and picture frames. The pieces jumbled together, lashed together with unseen bonds and assembled as a glittering, jagged mannequin. Its arms end in sharp points that reflect the light at a thousand angles.  And the single pane face only reflects the room back at them.

A glass foot crunches the rubble again, tiny shards breaking off and then scrambling back as though attracted by magnets.  The glass man points a long, thin shard of a hand at Cooper and trudges through the rubble of the living room.  Sara screams and Cooper throws the computer.  The glass man bats it aside and swipes, slicing though Cooper’s forearm. The rock crashes down into the glass man’s mirror visage, a face reflecting Cooper’s own terrified face, and it shatters.  All the glass shatters.  The windows in the living room explode inward with a terrible force, bathing the room in sunlight again as glass shrapnel pelts the couple.

Sara grabs Cooper’s arm and pulls, falling back out of a window onto the lawn.  She lands with a bit-off cry of pain and rolls to her side, tiny spots of blood beading across her back where glass has embedded.  Cooper lays on the grass next to her, staring up at their home.  The hot sun is welcome after the cold of inside.  The sky is cloudless.  It’s a beautiful day.  Their house is absolutely haunted.

[danielletimmons]

What the heck am I, anyway?

I’m like that drab sort-a gray that occurs when two colors mix. I’m neither black nor white. I’m like this great flavor that’s been watered down with another ingredient so you’re not really sure exactly what the taste profile is.  For years, I’ve struggled to understand my identity.   My father is 100% Italian, and my mom is 100% Puerto Rican. Both cultures permeate strength -- mentally, physically and through characteristics.  And my sister and I land squarely in the middle of these two culture clashing. As a child growing up in this mixed home, I always felt the push/pull of both sides of the family – equally jockeying to dominate the other.  Both grandmothers were the backbone of their families (physically and emotionally); both had family-centric cultures with plenty of cousins and extended families to love and love me in return; both shared a strong love for their native cultures; and both had wonderful cuisines that would envelop our home.

My Italian grandparents have interesting stories. My grandmother (or Nonna in Italian), was northern Italian and hailed from a small town (and I mean really small because I’ve actually been there) outside of Pisa called Vicopisano.  Her parents were both Italian immigrants, and even though she was born in America in 1911, she had traveled by ship with her two older sisters to visit her grandmother in Vicopisano when she was just 2 years old. But World War One broke out, and forced her and his sisters to live with their grandmother in this small, poor town for seven years. That’s seven years without her parents, who went on to have plenty of kids in America while she lived in Italy. And that’s seven years of getting a fig or orange in her stocking for Christmas. That’s seven years of dipping bread into 1 egg yolk for breakfast, which she had to split with her sisters.  That’s seven years of having to draw water from a well and walking the bucket up and down the hills of Vicopisano, while wearing shoes made of wood.   When finally she could safely make the journey across the Atlantic back to America, she sobbed as they dragged her away from her grandmother – the only mother she really knew and as the story unfolded, the only mother she would ever truly love who loved her unconditionally. She came to this country as an American citizen but couldn’t speak or write in English.  And although a citizen, she was forced to endure the hardships as so many before her, sailing into Ellis Island. When she entered the school system, she was called a Whop and a Dago and profusely made fun of because of her accent. Yet she was a citizen.

My Italian grandfather (or Nonno), was quite different from the woman he was destined to marry. His parents were immigrants from the island of Sicily, and he was born on American soil. He was without question an American with little Italian accent.  In fact, I’m not sure he could speak Italian because I seldom heard him speak it. Let’s say he didn’t seem to speak it as fluently as my grandmother. His parents were poor but seeded in him a deep, religious faith to be grateful to God for everything.  In his heart, he wanted to be a priest. It was his passion. But the Catholic Church in the 1920s was different than today.  While attending school to become a priest, he was dismissed when the Church uncovered he was, in fact, a bastard. His parents had immigrated to America as a married couple but never actually got married because my great grandfather was legally married to someone else in Italy when he left.  Talk about the sins of the father affecting the children... I also find it fascinating the Church was tremendously successful at tracking down my grandfather’s lineage – which is pretty good in 1920s --but couldn’t/wouldn’t piece together the decades of sexual abuse children sustained at the hands of priests who were no better than animals.  After receiving the crushing blow, my Nonno opted to attend school to become a bookkeeper, which earned him a nice living.  He went on to meet my grandmother and asked for her hand in marriage. My grandmother’s father and mother, however, said no because they considered my wonderful grandfather a dirty Sicilian. A man, who’s first love was Christ, was deemed not worthy to marry my grandmother. It boggles my mind. It seems times really haven’t changed that much when you think about it.  But my grandparents went on to get married without her parents in attendance at the wedding.   And my grandfather became devoted in service to a local Catholic Church in Richmond. In fact, he spent so much time at the church that my grandmother grew to hate and despise that church. Jealous much, Nonna? The Church was, after all, his first love.

Their story ends when my grandmother died unexpectedly on 12/31/2003 and my grandfather, who was very sick, died 1/1/2004 – different decade, less than 18 hours a part. That’s what real love looks like, folks – 67 years of enduring good and bad times but hanging in there to get the sweet fruit at the end.

That’s 50% of me.

The other 50% is just as complicated and fascinating.  My Puerto Rican grandmother (or Nana as I called her), has such a complicated past that I could write a novel about it. I’ve always thought of her as our family’s strong matriarch yet that were something fragile about her.  She was born in Puerto Rico, but her parents were immigrants from Spain.  Although I’ve always considered her Puerto Rican, she had different physical characteristics than other Puerto Ricans I’ve met that I could never quite figure out. She had 1 failed marriage that resulted in two beautiful girls, whom she had to give up when she left the abusive man, who was also a local police man.  Times were different in Puerto Rico in the 1920s and 30s. I don’t think they had a strong internal affairs department.  She went on to meet my grandfather, whom she fell madly in love with. She gave him 3 children, including my mom. My Nana, who thankfully passed on her ability to cook amazing Puerto Rican food to my mom, couldn’t speak much English. In fact, she was very shy around new people because she was never confident about her skills to speak English.  She didn’t say much, but when she spoke, they were always powerful words that spoke to your heart.  She suffered from congestive heart failure and rheumatoid arthritis. I don’t think she weighed 100 lbs soaking wet.  Nana was always calm, pure and genuine. I only saw her cry once. It’s when she told me the story of having to give up her two girls to save her own life.

My grandfather (or Papi) is another interesting figure with a checkered past. Although there’s some question about his lineage, based on my mother’s research through Ancestry.com, it looks like he may have been part Taino Indian (native to Puerto Rico) and part African American (a legacy from the slave trade back in the 1700/1800s). Like my grandmother, he too had been married and had 2 boys with his first wife. When they divorced, he took his boys, met my grandmother, and they got married.  My grandfather was in the military, so he was transferred from base to base all across the world, taking his family with him. He served in 2 wars, including World War II and Korea.  He died when I was only 10 years old, so I have little memories of him. But of the few I do have, he could make anything; he could fix anything; and he had a green thumb. This can also describe my mother to a tee.  Genetics are strong and undeniable.  He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, he commanded respect. I can still hear him telling me in a firm and gruff voice to “Opaga la luz!” when I left a room – translation – “Turn off the light.”  He loved his beer and his cigarettes, which eventually caught up to him in the end.  He was the dominate force in my mother’s house growing up, but when he died, my grandmother found her voice.  She stepped into the role of matriarch like one steps into a new pair of comfortable shoes.  

So am I more Italian? Or am I more Puerto Rican? How do I fill out those damn surveys and applications when it asks for my race?  Am I Caucasian or Hispanic?  And am I American?  My mother preached to me growing up that not a drop of American blood courses through our veins. She took great pride that her offspring weren’t American.

You can see why I’ve lived in a confused hybrid state.  As I get older, I reflect on my ancestry and find myself less focused on which nationality I am reflective of (Italian, Puerto Rican, American) and more focused on the pride I feel that I confidently know all three cultures are deep down in my core.  The truth is some days, I look, feel and act more Italian; the next day, I look, feel and act more Puerto Rican, and the third day I find myself firmly entrenched in American cultures.  Although I know I’m a half-breed (I say very lovingly), I’m so incredibly proud of my roots, the cultures they each have, the stories each has imparted to me over the years and the tradition each culture carries. I rejoice in my ability to seamlessly cook Nonna’s rigatoni or my mother’s rice and beans. I celebrate those moments when my Puerto Rican temper gets the best of me when I need to defend my family member’s honor.  I secretly laugh when my Italian side comes through as I plot my silent revenge on someone who’s committed an atrocity against my family.  

Although the cultures that burst out of me are different, the 1 commonality they share that I most revere is their love of family.  Putting family first is the one constant tradition that my nationalities have taught me. It’s what my grandparents demonstrated over their lives, and it’s the one tradition I’ve seen come through strong with my sister, cousins and extended family.   In the end, it doesn’t really matter if I’m more Italian, more Puerto Rican or more American. The truth is I’m all three in equal parts. And I’d like to think I reflect the best of each culture.  The cultures infused in me have provided a wealth of tools I can use.  I just need to be smart enough to know when to pull out the tools as I ebb and flow through life.

[hankeverythingwillbefine]

Thrashed, Lost, and Found

Day 7 hurt as much as every day has. It still started out with a forceful morning workout, my cousin has asked me a couple of times if I’d go with her to her gym in the afternoon but working out is something I have to do alone. I know she can do her routine and I can do mine but even the commute needs to be a separate thing. I was dragged to church, even though it’s Catholic I went and listened to what the priest had to say. I kept getting lost in thought and spent time admiring the architectural brilliance of the church. I wanted to go out by myself, I thought it’s time to shave the beard and needed razors (maybe it was just the only excuse I had). I took the bus and we were robbed, even though I was scared I was still aware of how dangerous the state has become thanks to increasing foreign migration. I don’t mean to sound xenophobic and I’m not even blaming the South American migrants, I’m blaming the people that come from other states to those that had stable security in their endless turf wars or those from the capital that have become so wanted by their local enforcement agencies to flee and do what they’re doing here. Anyhow, this short guy in his mid 20′s comes into the bus and asks to hold on a moment before paying. The bus starts moving at this point because the buses are in a hurry. It’s not too packed which is great for my anxiety and I’m looking out the window because I’m a melancholic fuck that needs serotonin and sunlight helps with that. I see some people in front of me shuffle suddenly and it made me startle and grasp the situation... hey we’re getting robbed. I didn’t notice the guy in the back with the backpack collecting money, phones and jewelry until it was my turn. As confident I am of my self-defense abilities, I’m no match for a guy with a gun. My anxiety manifested in a form of angry annoyance instead of fear. I gave them my broken iphone (which thankfully I only took the spare one that I use as an ipod but also has whatsapp installed and all of my contacts... it’s too long a story to explain now), my wallet with an estimated equivalent of $10 dollars and my wired headphones. I could tell that backpack guy was somewhat disappointed in everything they gathered but what do you expect on a Sunday afternoon in a half empty bus that’s going AWAY from the capital. I applaud your efforts, you sad elementary school dropout but thieving doesn’t give participation trophies or a pat on the back (unless you’re a prison bitch, then I guess it’s more than pats on the back). They quickly pointed the gun at the driver and made him pull over by an empty lot, my mind went to “we’re getting executed” which made me angrier. The one that gets to kill me is ME, that much has always been decided and I don’t even mean that in a suicidal way. If I die because of a mistake I made or an action I knowingly took that sent me to my demise, I’d be okay with that. My point is, they ran away and I wanted to go after them but getting shot is not in my to do list. The bus driver had radioed someone to call the police, they came in what felt like 10 minutes-ish and a forever for their police reports. I told them everything I saw, I gave them all my necessary information and details of the items that were stolen. I didn’t see much point in cooperating since the police are famous for being useless in this country and the four that arrived reeked of incompetence and Sunday laziness. I walked back home after that, it was a 30 minute walk... always has been. I realized I took 2 and a half hours between all of that when I got home. I told my mother I went for a walk and got distracted, went to my room and that’s when everything started sinking in. I grew up in a dangerous neighborhood no matter where I lived, having a gun pointed at was something that’s never going to stop being terrifying but the impact lessens over time. After some time of empty staring, I got the phone my father sent a year ago and activated that one, it has less memory and all I really need is music but it’s the thought that counts. I saw a couple of messages from you asking if I’m there and looks like you wanted to talk. I told you I got robbed, you didn’t believe me but this isn’t one of those things to lie about. There’s nothing impressive about getting robbed at gunpoint. My anxiety didn’t go off the rails despite the lack of Xanax in my system, it was a strange feeling and did not know how to rationalize it. I tried to pass it off as being okay, talking to you makes everything easier. You told me you’re redoing the house and talking about your self-worth. Telling me to tell my therapist how strong you are and how beautiful you are and how you’ve shouldered everything for the past year. How fucking dare you, of course I have but I’ve also talked about how controlling you’ve been and the thing I don’t want to do is go from patient to psychologist trying to compare results based on notes and observations about you. Therapy is where I make me about me, it’s step one on a healthy dose of selfishness. So we talked about how you’re Marie Kondoing and suggested I do the same, I told you that I’m not in a head space where assessing joy is a good idea. We talked about how we both need the man I used to be, how tired you are and the things you deserve. I mentioned that my stepdad finally got himself together and I was very surprised, these past 10 years haven’t been very kind to us and he got lazy and complacent and irresponsible. After having been dumped by my mom was when he went back to being hardworking and providing for her and my brother. He’s been incredibly supportive of whatever this thing I’m going through is. We spoke in a way that can only be described like we needed to cheer each other on, and then another “I don’t believe you got robbed” stab. As much as I would like your support yet not seeking it because I’m respecting your space, I really don’t need your doubt. I told you I was looking forward to our monthly in-person meet, which you forgot and it hurt. That was probably the most crushing moment of our whole conversation but powered through it. Sometimes I think I should just divorce you because you’re too much of a coward to ask for it because that is what you really want and I want to work on this but won’t get the chance to get there. We had a nice conversation and cut it short, sleep was calling to me. I woke up late at night and saw that you texted again, I don’t know if you were battling with loneliness again and wanted to talk to me. A part of me wants to tell you to fuck off and seek solace in the Facebook friends you arduously ignored me for but I think you’re doing that and it’s not working as well as you’d hoped. I think we’re both fighting that codependency we have for each other, leading to struggles with our own loneliness. I can’t really speak for you and can only assume. I just told you I went for my late night drink of water. We texted a little on Day 8, sent you a funny ad I got on a website while working. I’m still worried that you’re not eating well and haven’t found someone to pay to cook for you or deliver a healthy meal to you. I spent all of Day 8 hating myself out loud because I had the house to myself and trying not to text you. I also spent it playing GTA 5 and watching how Michael lost his family and is slowly getting them back in their own organically dysfunctional way while having Chicago’s “if you leave me now” playing on the radio station of the car he got in. Rockstar, you’re not fair to me right now. After so many years and changing availability, I still haven’t finished the game but it’s hitting so many sore spots for me right now. Great job, me, you’ve replaced your dependency from Xanax to video games and enjoy neither. I’ve helped my stepdad clean his car during the weekend, Hank sees me near the car and he behaves like we’re going back home. He scratches my leg, getting permission to get in but doesn’t see that it’s just to clean it and not to make a 2 hour trip back to a place we thought everyone was happy in. You sent me a philosophical quote about healing, I looked it up and thanked you for it. I went on to spend my night playing mindlessly, reading on and off about endogenous depression because I stumbled upon a paper I was reading about it in my closet here. Grad school B paper, no easy feat. I spent my night torturing myself internally. Weening off Xanax to help me sleep has not been kind, I’m down to a quarter a day again.

Day 9. I’m proud of myself for not reactivating my Facebook to stalk you since Friday-ish or Thursday. I needed one of the links I had saved and checked your posts since I was already there. Still, I need to stop. I’m getting everything out in a public way while maintaining myself anonymous and you’re getting everything out in a more “everybody, this marriage has been so shitty despite having my husband change jobs and work outside the house in order to pay for everything”. Yes you did the housewife thing and you did it great, I just needed you great and not a clean house or a highly elaborate meal but that’s what I came home to and a wife that had just enough energy to kinda eat. Your mother and my father did come to our rescue one too many times before we got married and while I started my new job. When you said you were told about Stratus, I encouraged you and said I wanted you happy but whatever floats your boat. Day 9 is just starting with sarcastic clients and a very annoyed me. If parting is such sweet sorrow, I don’t have many assets but I’m still meeting an attorney this Friday to set up a will. Just in case.