#the above was delivered to my dad's while I'm at my mom's

[bluemoonrabbit]

We had a virtual cheese tasting as our work holiday party. Jasper Hill creamery is actually a Vermont brand, so it was extra fun for me! I remember them establishing their aging cellars back in 2006 and what a big deal it was. That's like $100 of cheese up there. My job's pretty great.

[roosterforme]

The Grateful Dad Part 2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley can't believe you and he are about to be parents. Just when he was getting used to the idea of how his life would be, the two of you get an unexpected surprise. And by your third trimester, when you make a promise to him and then break it, he's left to deal with some things in his own.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, smut and pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is an optional one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time!

Read Part 1! Check my profile for my masterlist

It didn't fully hit Bradley until the first time he noticed that soft swell of your belly. It seemed to sneak up on him, the way it took several months before it was noticeable. But once it was there, it was all he could think about. 

He was going to be a dad. And you were going to be a mom.

"Sugar," he whined that first day he noticed it. "You have a bump." You were lying in bed, trying to read as he pushed your tie dye shirt up a few more inches. "This wasn't here yesterday."

You set your book down and glanced to where his hands were resting gently on your belly. "I guess I do have a little bump," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair as he kissed the spot just above your belly button. "My wool skirt is getting snug for work, but I thought I was just bloated."

Bradley was mesmerized. "Do you think it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, glancing up at you with a grin. 

"Do you really care?"

"Not at all." He kissed your bump and started humming his favorite Grateful Dead song. Bradley knew this was likely the only time you'd want to get pregnant. Your career was important to you, and you were already concerned about the baby coming before the end of your spring semester. You said you were going to have to take the following fall semester off from teaching, because you didn't want to let down the math majors at San Diego State University where you taught calculus. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you," he sang to your belly before abruptly rolling over in bed. 

"Where are you going?" you asked him with a laugh. 

He grabbed his phone and opened his music app, mumbling, "The baby should get to hear the Grateful Dead perform it. Sounds better than when I sing."

He queued up the song and placed his phone near your belly as it started. "I don't know. I kind of like your version, Beer Boy," you promised, and he kissed your lips before pushing your shirt up high enough so he could see your tattoo of the song lyrics. 

"That's good, because I'll never stop singing it," he whispered, running his nose along your tattoo. He placed one hand gently on your belly and sang along.

--------------------------------

"I'm so excited," Bradley whispered for the seventh time in five minutes. "I don't think I've ever been this excited before. I also kind of feel like I'm going to throw up."

"Relax," you whispered, taking his hand. If he was this bad today when you were getting a high definition ultrasound, maybe you didn't want him with you when you actually delivered the baby.

"I just want to see the bean," he mumbled, practically bouncing in the waiting room chair. 

You tried not to smile, because he actually looked a little pale and nervous. "We don't even get to find out the sex today."

"Yeah," he replied, exasperated, "but we get to see the bean, Sugar. Up close and personal."

When they called your name a minute later, Bradley jumped out of his seat and dragged you down the hallway. He paced around the first room while you had some blood drawn. And then he paced around the next room while you waited for the technician to come in.

"Why did they call us back if they weren't ready?" he grunted, eyeing you up and down as you sat on the exam table in a hospital gown. "This is taking for fucking ever."

"Watch your language in front of the baby," you scolded, and his eyes went wide.

"Shit, you're right. Oh, fuck. Damn it!" You were cracking up now as he sat down with his forehead resting on his palms. "I'll get better, I promise!" 

"You have about six more months to shape up your act." 

He thought about everything he had planned for the next six months. Buy a crib and a stroller. Put a car seat in the Bronco. Paint the extra bedroom. Put those little plastic safety things in all the outlets in the house. 

When the exam room door opened, he jumped to his feet as a woman in pink scrubs walked in. "Hi, I'm Elaine! Sorry for the long wait, but we were double checking your blood work," she said walking toward you.

"What's wrong with the blood work?" Bradley asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. The desire to throw up returned, and he was reaching backwards for the arm of the chair. 

"Nothing at all," she replied smoothly, helping you lay back on the table and opening the hospital gown. "A lot of different levels were elevated, so we wanted to be sure. But if you're ready to see the babies, then we can get started."

"Babies?" you and Bradley nearly shouted in unison as Elaine opened the software and turned on the gigantic monitor. 

"Yes," she replied with a smile. "You're having twins."

Bradley nearly collapsed back into the empty chair. "Holy shit. Holy shit, Sugar!"

"Twins?!" you asked Elaine. Bradley couldn't tell if you were excited about the idea or not, but he was thrilled. Two babies? In one go? This was better than getting a promotion at work. This was almost as good as his wedding day. Almost as exciting as when you and he reunited in Virginia after ten years apart.

When you reached out your hand toward him, Bradley rocketed out of his seat to get to you. "Are you happy?" he asked, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing your forehead. 

"I... I think so. I think I'm kind of shocked."

"Me, too. But in a very, very good way."

As the two of you watched the monitor while Elaine moved the wand around on your belly, Bradley's eyes filled with tears. He had never seen anything so sweet in his life. 

"Two little beans," you whispered, and Bradley watched you cry as you smiled. When he nodded, you added, "Yes, I'm happy."

But when Bradley got you settled at home, his apprehension started to creep in. You were clearly tired. You were the one growing the twin beans. He probably wasn't doing enough. As you slowly dozed off in bed wearing his old Grateful Dead shirt, he watched your lips part, soft breathing taking over. 

His thoughts drifted to his own parents. He could only remember how much pain his mom had been in before she died, and he could barely picture what his dad looked like unless he had a photo in his hand. 

Bradley could feel his heart rate pick up, the rapid pounding filling his ears started to make him feel crazy. He sat up in bed, trying to catch his breath. "Fuck," he muttered. He was going to mess this all up. He didn't know what he was doing. He couldn't remember his dad. And all he knew was that his mom somehow made him feel safe without really doing anything that he could model his behavior off of. Carole just made everything seem effortless, which was not helping him right now. 

He bolted out of bed, and then your eyes were open and focused on him. "What's wrong?" you asked groggily. "I need you to snuggle with me."

He studied your pretty face and your earnest expression. "What if I suck at being a dad?" he blurted out.

You set your head back down on the pillow and reached out for him with one hand. "You're good at everything else. You'll be good at this, too."

"But what if I'm not?" he demanded. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I barely even had a dad." He thought of the navy desk lamp and how he'd followed in his father's career path and how he somehow knew Nick had loved him. 

"You've never let me down yet, Beer Boy." Your soft words and the way you reached for his hands were enough to get him back into bed. And then his pulse returned to normal as you wrapped him up in your arms. This time he was dozing off before you were. 

----------------------------

Bradley went sprinting out of work at the beginning of lunchtime. If Maverick kept them one minute longer, Bradley would have earned himself some push-ups for insubordination. It was your anatomy ultrasound scan day, and now he was going to be late meeting you there.

"Fuck," he groaned as he yanked down the zipper of his flight suit a few inches as he pulled out into traffic. He was trying so hard to stop swearing, but days like this just called for the f word. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he growled, weaving around cars.

He wanted to know more about the twin beans. You and he had been talking about names, and he was beyond excited about everything. Last weekend he had painted the nursery a soft gray color and assembled two cribs. He even ordered a variety of matching tie dye onesies. Then you told him he did a great job and pushed him down on the floor on the new cloud shaped area rug in the nursery. His reward was getting to run his hands all over your round belly and tits while you rode him.

Bradley was in love with you and the babies, and being late today was making him upset. You were already on the exam table with the technician when the receptionist led him back to the room.

"Oh good, you're here," you sighed as he rushed toward you and grabbed your hand.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," he whispered, kissing your forehead and then your belly.

The technician smiled as Bradley knelt next to the table with his hand in yours. "Let's begin?" the technician asked. And when you nodded, he rubbed some gel on your belly and ran the wand slowly back and forth until those adorable beans were on the monitor just like last time.

"They got so big!" Bradley said, proud of how nicely they were growing.

"They are measuring right where they should be," the technician said, pausing the screen to take some pictures. "And I can tell you the sex for both of them if you want to know."

"Yes!" Bradley nearly shouted, looking up at your beautiful face as you laughed. "Please!"

"Okay, here we go."

It felt like an eternity as Bradley gripped your hand, waiting to be informed about what he was looking at on the screen. You were stroking his knuckles with your thumb, always so calm and analytical. 

He glanced at your face and watched you as the technician said, "Baby number one right here is not shy at all. He's waving hi."

"He?" Bradley was on his feet, trying to get closer to the screen. 

"Yes. A boy," the technician said.

"Another little Beer Boy in the making," you said before Bradley leaned down to kiss you.

He was sure he looked ridiculous as he said, "Nah, he'll be so much better than me. He's half you."

The way you smiled up at Bradley had him kneeling next to you again. "What about baby number two? Can we look at that bean now?" he asked, squeezing your hand. 

"Okay," the technician said, drawing Bradley's attention toward the screen again. "And baby number two...well she's trying to hide behind her brother, but there she is."

Bradley shouted, "Yes!" so loudly that you and the technician both jumped a little bit. "Oh my god, Sugar!"

"One of each," you whispered, covering your lips with your shaky fingers. 

"This is exactly what I was hoping for, but I didn't want to say it out loud," he whispered against your ear before kissing you all over your face. "Two little beans. One of each!"

You wrapped your arms around Bradley's neck and said. "You don't know how easy it is to love you."

------------------------------

"I'm not going to make it," you moaned, laying on the couch while Bradley made dinner while his phone rang. You were at the start of your third trimester. You were huge. You were always hungry. It was getting hard to stand up for your lectures that were longer than an hour. And Bradley was the only thing holding you together. 

"Fuck!" he suddenly shouted from the kitchen. 

"What's wrong?" you asked, lifting your head up from the cushion. When Bradley walked into the living room, his brow was pinched and he was eyeing you warily. "What?" you demanded, struggling to sit up.

He knelt in front of you and eased you into a seated position. "Sugar," he whispered, pleading with you. "I just got the call. A special mission."

Tears sprang to your eyes. "A deployment?"

"Yeah, baby. I'll be back before the due date."

You cried while his lips met your belly through your shirt. "But, Bradley," you sobbed, "I can't! You've been doing everything! I'm so exhausted, I can barely function! And what if they extend you? That did that last time!" 

Great big sobs wracked your body, and you started gasping for air. Soon you were close to hyperventilating, but Bradley got you into the bathroom just in time for you to throw up in the toilet. And then you curled up on the floor and looked up at him. Your voice was a harsh whisper as he rubbed your back. "I can't do this without you."

He looked distraught as he said, "I don't want you to have to. But Uncle Sam owns my ass."

You closed your eyes, dreading asking him for the mission details. So instead you whispered, "No, the beans and I own your ass. Uncle Sam just borrows you."

"You absolutely own my ass, Sugar," he replied softly, kissing your tear streaked cheeks and helping you get to your feet. "Let's try to eat dinner, and we can talk this through."

Bradley carried two plates of food to the dining room table where you had the perfect view of the glossy white doors he had used to propose to you. He had hung them up on the wall, turning them into the most beautiful work of former frat boy art you had ever seen. 

SUGAR 

WILL 

YOU 

MARRY 

ME?

You picked at your food as he filled you in on the missions plans. He was perfect. Your husband was perfect, and now you were scared you weren't going to be able to get through a month without him. And then you started to spiral, because if four weeks alone while you were pregnant felt too daunting, how would you manage twins while he was gone for months at a time?

"Beer Boy?" you whimpered. "I can't do this."

"Yes," he said adamantly, "you can. You're the strongest person I know."

You bit down hard on your lip as it quivered. "What if something happens to you? Or me? Or them?" Your voice broke, and once again, Bradley was collecting you into his arms and abandoning the dinner plates. You cried softly as he helped you out of your work clothes and into his old Grateful Dead shirt. And then you curled up in bed and watched him strip down to his underwear. 

You watched the flex of his muscles as he took the hideous, tie dyed Grateful Dad shirt out of his drawer and pulled it on. "Nothing's going to happen," he whispered as he got in bed beside you. "You'll wear your shirt, and I'll wear mine. And we'll think about each other the whole time I'm gone. And I'll hang up all the sexy photos I have of you plus the ultrasounds of the beans. And before you know it, I'll be back. And then the beans will be here. And then we'll actually be even more perfect than I ever thought possible."

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms, soaking up all of his beautiful words. 

---------------------------

Bradley's duffle bag was packed. He was leaving in the morning. You'd made him a little folder of copies of the ultrasound photos, and he'd added a few wedding photos as well. He laughed every time he looked at the photos from your Vegas wedding with Elvis. But right now, he felt like crying.

Somehow you were holding it together better than he was right now. "You coming to bed, Beer Boy?"

He zipped his bag closed and looked up to find you standing there in your navy blue bra and matching panties. Your tits looked bigger than ever, practically spilling over the lace cups. And your belly had gotten so big, your panties were tucked below your bump. He reached out for you, pulling you close so his nose met your belly.

"I want the two of you to be good for Mommy while I'm gone, okay?" he whispered, kissing and tickling you with his mustache. He was rewarded with your fingers in his hair and a kick from one of his twins. "I love my Sugar Babies."

You giggled and said, "I wonder if that was the jellybean or the spoonful of sugar that kicked you." Over the past few weeks, you had taken to giving the twins cute little candy related names, and Bradley couldn't get enough. 

He'd never get enough of you either. The way your fingers felt in his hair as he knelt in front of you. The sound of your voice when he closed his eyes. The warmth of your skin where he kissed you. 

"I'm gonna miss you," he whispered before he stood and followed you to bed. 

"I'll be there to pick you up four weeks from tomorrow," you promised, reaching back to unhook your bra. "I promise."

Bradley groaned loudly as you sank back into the pillows. "Your tits look delicious," he moaned, crawling across the bed to get to you. "Fucking huge."

"Watch your language in front of the babies," you whispered against his lips as he palmed your breasts and stroked your tattoos. "Daddy."

Bradley pulled your underwear down your legs and tossed them aside, running his fingers through your slick. "Bradley!" you gasped, your eyes following his every move as he brought his fingers up to his lips. 

"You look delicious, and you taste delicious," he told you, licking his fingers clean before you reached for his cock through his boxer shorts. You squeezed him, eliciting a strangled, needy noise, and he whined your name. 

And you let Bradley do whatever he wanted with a devilish little smile on your face and his name on your lips. You sucked his cock until he was panting, and then you leaned back with your hands on your chest. When he ran his wet length through the valley between your breasts, you urged him along.

"I want you to," you whispered as he titty fucked you. Your tongue darted out to taste him as he tried to go slow. But you looked and felt so good, he was already so far gone by the time he pulled away from you.

"I wanna make you feel good," he gasped as you pushed him onto his back. "As fucking good as you make me feel all the time."

He was treated to the sight of you awkwardly positioning him at your entrance as you had to work around your belly. And when you slid down around him with your perfect pussy, Bradley let his hands come to rest on your hips. Your body was wider now and impossibly sexy, and you rode him as you ran your fingers gently along your breasts. 

"I love you, Sugar," he whispered, running his knuckles along your clit until you were clenching. His other hand came to rest on your belly, and Bradley felt so connected to you, so in love with you, that he felt a tear leak from his eye as you came from him. And then he came inside you as he met you halfway for a kiss.

As you eventually started to doze off on his shoulder, still full of his cum, you whispered, "I love you too, Beer Boy."

----------------------------

Being away from the three of you was tedious at best. Bradley found it hard to pay attention to the things he was supposed to do. He knew the mission parameters inside and out, but he didn't take the time to think about how dangerous it was. There was no space left in his jumbled thoughts for anything except you.

Phoenix had promised to go to your appointments with you in his absence, and when he was allowed to call you, he listened intently to your updates 

"Jellybean boy is measuring a little bigger than our sweet girl, but they both looked good! Nice and strong according to the doctor. And I gained three more pounds, which is probably not ideal, but all the meals you made and froze for me are so yummy." 

And then he flew the special mission, set on making sure it went as flawlessly as possible. Determined to stay as safe as he could. Whatever it took to get back home to San Diego and his perfect little family. 

You were less than a month out from your due date now. And when Bradley arrived on the dock exactly four weeks after you'd sent him off with some filthy kisses, he was so excited to see you. See if you'd gotten bigger or had trouble walking now. He was excited to kneel down and talk to his twins. 

But when he turned his phone on, he was greeted with a voicemail message of your incoherent sobbing. He dropped his bag to the deck of the aircraft carrier as the sound of you crying met his ears. His heart sank to his stomach. You'd left him this message just a handful of hours ago, but when he tried to call you back as the ship was docking, you didn't answer. 

"Come on," he whispered, his voice harsh and filled with unshed tears. "Sugar." But still, you did not answer.

He could feel himself gasping for air. He promised you nothing was going to happen. He never broke his promises to you. Not even when he was twenty one years old and didn't understand the strength of the love he felt for you.

He was staring at his phone screen for a few seconds as tears filled his eyes before he realized he was receiving a call.

"Nat?" he asked, answering his best friend.

"I'm on the dock," she said simply. "I'll find you as you deboard. We're going to head right to the hospital."

"What happened to her?" he asked, clutching his own stomach, barely able to speak. "To them?"

"Early labor," was all she said. Then she sighed before repeating herself. "We'll head right to the hospital."

------------------------------

You weren't sure what was going on. All you knew was the intense amount of pain you were in was enough to make you throw up over and over again. When your water broke during your calculus lecture, you shouldn't have been surprised. You'd been feeling off all week. You tried to chalk it up to missing your husband, but it was more than that. 

After your water broke, you collapsed, only breaking the fall with your hands on the hard floor. You were pretty sure at least one of your wrists was broken, but nobody at the hospital was even slightly concerned about that. Not when they were trying to determine if your babies were okay. 

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you had to beg Natasha to leave you and pick Bradley up from the port on base after she met you at the hospital. You had been informed that the babies were fine, but you needed to deliver them now as you were running out of amniotic fluid. They would deliver the beans by cesarean section. They were going to put you under general anesthesia for it.

You cried as they prepared you for surgery. You were alone. Bradley was probably with Phoenix by now, but they wouldn't wait any longer. "Let's get started," your obstetrician said as you settled on your back with your battered wrists as your sides. 

"Okay," you agreed, crying as the drugs to put you under started to cloud your vision. 

"Sugar!" 

You laughed softly at the nurse to your left. "That sounded like my husband," you said with a giggle. Then you caught sight of Bradley running into the room in his khaki uniform, drenched in sweat. "It looks like him, too. Hi, Beer Boy," you said, still laughing as he rushed toward you.

"Sugar," he gasped, eyes wide. But they wouldn't let him touch you as you fell asleep.

Pain. You woke up in so much pain. Everything hurt. You were on your back and the room was dark and you could hear beeping. 

"Bradley?" you gasped, trying to sit up, but you couldn't. You started crying and calling his name, and then he was at your side.

"I'm here, Sugar," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay. I love you. You're just waking up again."

"Again?" you asked, completely confused. "Where are the beans?"

"In the nursery," he promised. "They've been in the nursery since yesterday when they were born." 

Your head was swimming with information and memories and fear as Bradley left you to turn on the dim hospital room lights. "They were born yesterday?" 

"Yes," he told you, making his way back over in his rumpled, wrinkly uniform. "And you had surgery on your left wrist today."

But you were starting to remember more now as your eyes settled on the white board across the room. The birth times and birth weights of the twins written in an unfamiliar scrawl. Baby A and Baby B were born just five minutes apart. You must have been on a lot of pain medication, because surely those were not the names you and Bradley had discussed?

You cleared your throat a few times, and then he was grabbing your cup of water and holding it so you could take a sip through the straw.

"Bradley," you started, but he stopped you with a kiss to your chapped lips.

"I'm so proud of you, Sugar," he said, letting his forehead come to rest against yours. "Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are?" 

"But Beer Boy," you said, glancing at the names written on the board.

"The doctors said the kiddos are doing just fine, and when they wake up hungry in another hour or so, you'll be able to see them."

"But I-"

"And only your left wrist was broken. Your right one will heal on its own. And your abdominal incision will heal up great. And you'll be back to work after the fall term, no problem."

"Bradley!" you said loudly, realizing it was nearly three in the morning as you checked the clock before looking at the names again. "Did you go rogue and name the children without my approval?"

Your husband was silent now, and you could see his cheeks were a little red. "Just the middle names," he muttered softly. 

You sighed and read out loud from the board. "Emma Bean Bradshaw and Levi Garcia Bradshaw," you said slowly. "Really?"

He looked so sheepish as your gaze met his again. "I thought they sounded nice," he whispered, and you felt your lips curve into a smile.

"I love them," you said, swallowing hard. "Their names are perfect."

And then you were treated to your husband's lips and mustache as he kissed you all over your face until you were laughing. "I thought you were mad," he said with a sigh of relief.

"Not mad," you promised, letting him adjust your bed and get you more water. He flitted around the room for a few minutes, and then the door opened as two nurses pushed bassinets into the room, and you cried as you looked at your daughter and your son in their matching tie dyed onesies

Bradley picked Emma Bean up in his arms, and he gently held her out so you could give her a kiss. "Here she is. And check it out, Sugar. I've been feeding them and changing them since yesterday!" 

You marveled at how he held her and bent to coo at Levi Garcia at the same time. And then a moment later, he was sitting in the chair right next to you, feeding each baby a bottle as he sang his favorite Grateful Dead song. 

"Beer Boy," you said with a soft laugh. "You really are the Grateful Dad." 

He smiled at you and said, "I haven't been home yet to wash my hideous shirt, but one day soon we can all wear our tie dye together." 

You examined the cast on your left wrist and ran you right hand gingerly along your belly which felt horribly tender. "You're going to have to take care of all three of us when we go home."

"I'm up for the challenge," he promised immediately. "Nat's gonna help. And Bob will, too. And we'll be just fine. Better than fine."

Bradley stood carefully and set down Emma Bean, your tiny daughter, along your right side. Bradley didn't move as she snuggled up against you, rather he bent and let you kiss Levi's cheek. 

"We'll be perfect," you supplied, smiling at your son and daughter as you listened to your husband sing. 

"You don't know how easy it is to love you."

-----------------------------

I couldn't leave Beer Boy hanging in his ugly Grateful Dad tee without letting him know how was having twins beans. And I just know he's going to take the best care of all three of them. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[howlingday]

Day 9 of "9 Days of Lancaster"

Hero ◇ Firsts

"It's still weird, isn't it?" Jaune looked behind him and smiled as Ruby walked up. She stood by his side as they looked up to the statues of them bravely looking forward, away from New Beacon. More accurately, Jaune was pointing forward with his sword while Ruby soared above him with her scythe extended behind her. Behind them, their teams ran forward, each brandishing their weapons as they faced the Grimm in the final days of The War on Salem. "Seeing a statue of us?"

"Is it really us?" Jaune pointed up. "I don't remember your nose being that round. I always thought it was more pointy."

"It is not." Ruby brought a hand to her nose, feeling while looking at her statue. "Is it?"

"I've seen enough of your face to know that it doesn't look like you."

"What about you? Your cheeks aren't that sharp, either." Ruby pouted.

"Yeah, I always thought I had more of a boyish chub to my cheeks." Jaune rubbed his fingers over them, finding them as pliable as dough. "What do you think?"

"I think I like your face more than his." Ruby leaned into him. "It's still so weird for me. Getting all this attention, getting this statue, being everyone's hero..."

"Yeah." Jaune slipped an arm around Ruby's back, pulling her close. "I just wish everyone was here to see it."

"I'm sure Pyrrha would have also pointed out how wrong your cheeks are." Jaune chuckled.

"You know, it's funny." He looked down to her. "The statue of Pyrrha is almost perfect, but I think that's only because her mom was there to say whether or not it looked like her."

"You met her mom?"

"Yup. She was delivering flowers to her. Sometimes I forget I wasn't her first fan."

"Well, it's hard to compete with family, you know." Ruby said with a smile. "My first fan was Mom, Dad, Yang, Uncle Qrow..."

"Really? Qrow?"

"Well, he wouldn't admit it, but Dad said he made the graduation banner for me when I finished my first year of school."

"Huh. Well, nothing beats my first fan."

"Your parents?" Ruby asked.

"Well, no, not really." Jaune sighed. "To be honest, I still need to see them. The last time I saw them was before I left for Beacon, and back then it felt like they didn't believe in me."

"What about your sisters?"

"Nope. To them I was the same crybaby little brother who got stung by a bee or would sing annoying songs to get out of being their dress-up doll." Ruby giggled. "No, my first fan was probably Pyrrha. Then Ren and Nora. Then... I wanna say Adrian."

"How is he, by the way?"

"He's doing good. He's got these dreams of becoming a huntsman just like his favorite uncle." Jaune brought a hand up to his eye. "It's enough to make this old man cry."

"Oh, you're not that old."

"Wanna bet?" Jaune smirked.

"No, because I know you'd cheat, like you always do."

Jaune gasped, then feigned hurt in dramatic fashion. "No! Say it isn't so! Betrayed by own wife!"

"Oh, stop!" Ruby laughed. "Besides, you know that by the end of the day, you'll always be my hero."

"And you'll always be mine." Jaune smiled, holding Ruby close. He then leaned down as she stretched up and the two then kissed. He held her cheek while she rubbed his back. It was a perfect embrace for this perfect couple. They pulled away, both smiling at each other still. "Wanna get something to eat?"

"Yeah. Ooh, can we try that noodle place?" Ruby said, walking away from the statue.

"The same one that's been going since we were in Beacon?" Jaune asked, following her.

"Yeah! I heard they have a new hot sauce you can put on your noodles!"

"Ugh, you know I don't like hot sauce."

"That's fine. I'll have mine spicy and you can have bland noodles, like you."

As the two playfully bickered, they continued walking, jumping, sprinting, jumping, and falling at one point along the way. And though they both looked back to the statue, they never stopped continuing to move forward.

The End

[hello-nichya-here]

If you had to characterized Michael Jackson as one of the following adjectives that happened to be important qualities in the entertainment industry, which would you pick? Explain your answer.

Vocalist

Dancer

Songwriter

Performer

Picking "vocalist" would imply that his main focus as an artist would be his singing abilities.

Picking "dancer" would imply that his main focus as an artist would be his dancing abilities.

Picking "songwriter" would imply that his main focus as an artist would be his lyrics and not how he delivers them.

Picking "performer" would imply that his Mai focus as an artist during live shows isn't his singing it dancing, but the production elements (costumes, dancers, lighting, scene set up, ect)

Please give examples to justify your answer.

Picking one of the above adjectives wouldn't imply that his abilities in the rest of them are lacking, I'm simply trying to find which feild is his best.

This message has been typed by someone who knows shit about MJ and wants to learn but not through the mainstream media, as you've already said that they treated him like shit.

ANON, YOU FOOL, YOU OPENED THE FLOOD GATES! Get a snack and some water, then sit down, this is gonna take a ridiculously long time because I know WAY too much about Michael and you just gave me the chance to share all of that knowledge at once.

First off, I unfortunately have to get the depressing part out of the way and tell you that it wasn't just the media that treated him like shit. Nearly everyone in his life failed this man on some degree.

His father used to watch him and his brother's practice for their performances as The Jackson 5/The Jacksons - with a belt in hand to beat them if they got even a single note wrong. He'd also just throw them against all too He also made fun of Michael's appearence as he was growing up, mocking him for his acne, big nose and for being too dark to truly be his son.

Joseph Jackson also cheated on his wife constantly - especially while traveling with his sons during tours, since he was the manager. So add "Had to listen to him cheat on my mom" to the lists of reasons why Michael didn't like his dad all that much. He also didn't care where his sons performed as long as it got them money, leading to Michael, while still very much a young CHILD, singing in strip clubs, and, in his own words, having to watch adults fighting and vomiting on each other.

His brothers weren't saints either. They all had to share a room in the hotels during tours, and Michael not only had to hear his older brothers having sex with fans (again, while he was still a child), but he also had to hear how these girls were being used and thrown away. Michael even tried to talk to one of said girls after it because she was crying so much he thought she might have been there against her will.

And when Michael went solo and became far richer than anyone in the family (who by now were FAR from poor), he was constantly harassed for money by nearly everyone, leading to him full on hiding from them many times, and sometimes only "talking" to them by sending his lawyer in his place. In his own words "I’ve supported my brothers, supported them all. I’ve put their kids through school. But they still come after me, still wanting more. It never ends." After his death, most of his relatives were too busy fighting over his money to properly mourn him, or comfort his children.

As I explained in a previous post, the people that were making money off of him and his performances, were more than willing to just let Michael continue dancing after getting seriously injured and nearly dying:

His final tour, literally named "This Is It" because he wanted to officially retire already, was originally meant to be just 5 shows. Instead Michael was tricked into commiting to 50 shows, and pressured to "keep his word." Thanks to the years of neglect to his health, plus the reharsals for this tour, as well the help of a doctor that was more than happy to put him in a drug induced coma and call it "helping him sleep", Michael was dead before the first show of this tour even took place.

After his death, two posthumos albums were released, "Michael" and "Xscape." The first one had a lot of controversy surrounding it because 3 of the songs were NOT sung by Michael, and Sony, his record label, full on say on court that they had the right to attribute these tracks to Jackson, regardless of authenticity - aka "We should have the right to attach his name to stuff he didn't make, just so we can sell it a higher price." It did not go well.

Finally, we have the pedophilia allegations (that people still take as absolute truth despite Michael being proven innocent in court), which can summed up in this 2 minute video:

Said accusations, despite being obviously false, nearly destroyed his reputation completely, AND made him a victim of police brutality during the court case.

Now we got all that crap all of the way, let's talk about what actually matters:

Why Michael Jackson will always be THE greatest artist of all time!

There's a reason why he was called the King Of Pop, why many artists today (from like The Weekend and Bruno Mars, to nearly every K-Pop group ever) take a ton of notes from how he used to do things, why people still ADORE Thriller 40 years later, why he is still so iconic even though "Year of Michael Jackson" was 1988 - 35 years ago. Michael Jackson was the definition of a "perfectionist." A picture of him should be right next to that word in every dictionary.

If while reading about his depressing life, you found yourself thinking "Why did he wait so long to finally 'quit his job', and even then was still willing to end it on a high note?" the answer is pretty simple: Michael Jackson was an ambitious man, with a real passion for his craft, and he knew damn well he was incredibly talented. ALL of the words you chose as possibilities to define him - performer, dance, singer, writer - apply to him, because he made sure he was the best at everything, that no other artist, no matter how good they were, could compare to him.

Everything he did was like clockwork, a ton of large and small parts moving at once.

Michael knew that he needed to capture people's attention, so he used everything he had at his disposal. Multiple dancers, costumes, lighting, make-up, sound effects, back up vocalists going insane on the microphone, and short films to promote songs/albums.

Ever thought some music video by an artist you like was super creative and awesome? Thank Michael Jackson, because his clips were EVENTS, and he really opened the door for people to get creative and actively add plot to their videos/short films instead of just dancing and singing.

This man was commited into making everything he did look fantastic - and I do mean EVERYTHING. In a concert in Moscow, the stage was wet due to the heavy rain before it, so Michael added sliding around to the choreography to show the crew were the water puddles were. Whenever something liket that happened and his shoes were wet, instead of stopping the concert for even a minute to dry them or put a different pair on, he'd just signal for people in the crew to leave towels on the stage, so he'd stand on them while dancing, drying the shoes without having to stop.

But he also used fake "unplanned" events to create humor, and give the crew more time to prepare things for the next song, or so he could change clothes - the most famous one being inviting Slash, who would pretend get "carried away" during his guitar solos and "not stop when he was supposed to."

Then there are things like him using the iconic white glove in only one hand to hide the first signs of his vitiligo, or the hats (as well as wigs and hair-extensions) to cover up the scars and hair loss that he suffered after the Pepsi accident, in which his hair caught fire while filming a commercial.

There was also the time in which he couldn't dance due to an injury, so he did a less elaborate dance (by his standards anyway) while in a chair, but while reacting the entire vibe of the original short film for that song, so it would still get the public excited. That dude knew how to use his little "tricks" to get around any change of plans.

There was also his habit of using black shoes and black pants, but white socks, so that when he was dancing, people's eyes would naturally focus on the thing that is standing out, and thus be able to notice every little step he was doing (he once mentioned in an interview how he'd get frustrated watching James Brown on TV because the camera didn't focus enough on his feet for him to learn how to copy the moves).

Those last two exemples I just gave you, also highlight a very important thing: dancing absolutely is part of Michael's theatrics (see the awesome choreography of "Dangerous", which is one of my favorites, and can often even overshadow the more "flashy" stuff, because just having him alone on stage was enough to create something unforgettable - like the first time he did the Moonwalk

But we can also not separate the dance from his passion for music. There's a reason Michael's entire body moves whenever there's a change even in a single note, be it through a kick, a snap of his fingers, a tap of his foot, or just him turning his head to the side. He had repeatedly said that when working on his dancing, he focused more on the feeling it gave him.

Michael was heavily involved in the creation of his music, from the melody to the lyrics - back in the Jackson 5 days, he and his brother's actively fought to be allowed to write their own songs, instead of just doing covers and having other people write for them. Even though he had been putting out solo records his whole life, he said his albums only started to truly feel like they were his when he started stepping up as a song writter, starting in "Off The Wall", and gaining more and more confidence in his craft with each new record.

And back to the "performer" side for a minute: there's a reason why Michael always gave it all when making music videos. He wanted them to properly convey the meaning of the lyrics, even to people who did not speak any english. That's how important the messages he wanted to share with people were to him.

There's also the song "They Don't Care About Us", which Michael wrote after the incident I mentioned before, in which some bastard cops decided to make him their punching bag. The whole song is about authorities abusing their power over people, while neglecting to do their jobs. There are two videos for this one, one in a real prison, which was heavily censored by american media, and one in poor regions of Brazil, where our government tried to prevent him from filming his video - in both cases, it was obviously a case of the very people Michael was calling out not wanting him to expose just how right he was. (Little fun fact for you: Michael's help, both through expousure and money, for the people here in Brazil was so significant that there's a statue in his homage).

The music video for "Beat It" also has members of real, rival gangs as Michael's dancers, promoting his message for people not let that kind of grudge and "I'm the best" atitute get them in the dangerous situations because they didn't want to "admit defeat" and walk away - once again, he's everything at once, an amazing performer making a cool video, and a skilled writer getting a point across.

His vocals also tie into how much the lyrics mattered. He was literally crying while recording "She's Out Of My Life", and even though he didn't write "Man In The Mirror" that song was always very dear to him (and by consequence, to fans) because it alligned with his beliefs for a better world.

The emotions behind any lyrics, regardless of if it had been written by him or not (and I remind you, it very often was, and he literally fought for that right), were the very core of what Michael Jackson, both the artist and person, was all about. The feeling, the message.

But he also was so serious and methodical about every other part of the songs he made. So much so that, for Billie Jean, he recorded 91 different takes, but the one that was considered the best and ended up on the album was take TWO! And he once managed to prove he had not ripped off a different song writer by beatboxing in court. I am not kidding.

THAT is how skilled that man was. MJ could sing pretty much anything he wanted to sing, and had an unbelievable level of control over his voice, that allowed him to reach super high notes, despite having a naturally much lower, deeper voice. Just compare his singing in these two tracks:

And if you want to hear solely his voice, without the rest of the song to "distract" you, well...

And to circle back to his performances again, even in situations in which he had to lipsinc - like award shows since the logistics for live performances in those places can be complicated, or during a REALLY elaborate choreography - he still had the habit of recording NEW vocals for the songs, so fans would still get to hear him toy with new ideas for his old tracks, instead of just watching him dance while the album's tracks were playing

So there you have it, anon. This is Michael Jackson - performer, dancer, singer, songwriter - the full package. (If you want to see a concert of his in which he shows off all of that, I recommend you watch the full Live at Wembly concert, which anyone can watch for free on his official youtube channel)

[phantomrose96]

Someone new has entered the party, because the gauzy 27 clinging to the tip of Salmon Man's cowlick has ticked up to 28. Salmon Man smooths his hair down and I wonder if he noticed me staring. Unlikely. He's too many cranberry mixers in and too deep into his dogecoin pitch to notice what I'm doing. I nod along. I'm happy for him, maybe. Or sad for whoever walked in. I'm not sure Salmon Man deserves the 28. He pets his salmon-pink hair down, and like a magician's sleight of hand, it reappears 29 as his palm passes through. Another new person has joined the room, not so lucky as Salmon Man with his many years ahead of him to peddle crypto scams.

It's hard. I keep my smile on my face but it's hard while Jon dips Cassy into a low kiss and the crowd erupts in cheers. Their numbers cross in the motion - the 15 above Cassy's veil and the 58 over his head. I'm glad Cassy made the hard decision to pass me over as Maid of Honor. It was either me or her older sister Jess who'd been estranged from her family for years before her diagnosis, which came at the end of June and, for Jess, made some things more important than family squabbles. Jess delivers her speech through happy tears to a reception of 114 guests, and I watch the 2 above her head the entire time.

Cassy has tipped up to 17, because there are more people at the reception than at the ceremony. 17 out of 116 attendants. And the newly emblazoned 61 above Jon sends cold ripples through my veins. He'd yelled at her in the bridal suite just an hour before. He wasn't allowed in there. But Cassy had messed up seating Jon's cousins, and he'd grabbed her arm with the accusation. I'd pulled him off and in that bridal suite of 10 people, tears in her mascara, Cassy had worn the 1.

I wonder cold thoughts now. Jon and Cassy kiss.

On my mom's front porch, the egg timer goes off. She hops to her feet, and Jackson does a little stretch-and-roll while Winston scrabbles up on puppy-feet eager to follow. Mom slides the screen door open and shut, and then open again with a tray of biscuits in hand. I take one, light touches against its radiating heat.

"So, you know I'm going to ask." "Mom--" There's a 1 above her head. "Is there anyone--" "No, Mom." I never factor in. I can't see my own number. If I'm alone with someone, they're the 1, and I'm at ease. "Do you remember Donny from high school?" "Donny who got in trouble for huffing glue?" "Donny was baseball captain--" "And he huffed glue--" "And he's very nice. Still in town. Works at Dave's Meats."

I stroke Jackson's gray fur. He's warm in the sunlight, and very sweet right now after being an absolute hellion little shit for me getting him in his carrier and driving with him to Mom's place.

"You really don't want to meet a nice man...?" Mom asks. "...Or woman? It could--you know--if that's--"

"No--thank you that's nice, Mom--but I'm very happy with Jackson being the only man of the house." Jackson rolls over and shows his bear-trap belly. He has no number. Neither does Winston, with his big puppy paws pressed against Mom's knee, huffing for biscuit.

There's still a chair out here for Dad, 20 years out of date. Jackson is happy in it now. But I remember how Dad looked in this chair. His 1 to Mom's 2. His 1 that followed him. In church. In movie theaters. In grocery stores. At seven years old I didn't know what the numbers meant. Just that Mom's got real big in big stores. And Dad's never would.

I don't want to meet Donny. I don't want to fall in love with anyone who might wear the 1 at the grocery story.

Mom shuffles her toes. She takes a bite of her biscuit and tears off a little chunk to throw to Winston. "If you don't want a man... if you did still want kids, well--" "Mom--" "I'm home all day. I'd babysit all the time. Winston loves kids." "It's just not right for me." "I know you said that. But you might change your mind."

I won't, though. Because I can manage like this. I can go to restaurants with Lindsey and Doug, who say treatment is going so very well, and ignore the 4 above his head the whole time. I can visit Bethanne for Thanksgiving and be so very normal when her number is lower than her grandmother's.

But I haven't figured out how to be normal when a family boards the subway, baby in arms, wearing a number lower than both parents. It undoes something in me. I hold Jackson a little tighter those nights. I couldn't bear it, if it was me holding that baby. I couldn't bear it if I'd made a little thing more important to me than anything else, and found that the 1 above its little head stayed in place when I stepped into the world.

An “I can see when people will die displayed above their heads” story but it is not the time of their death. It’s the order.

[romanstheory]

More finn balor plz

Word Count : 765

18 +

My family is having a coming home party for my brother's long time best friend Finn Balor. It's been a while since he's been home, and he's considered family so our parents wanted to make it special. We've spent all day cooking all of the food, and it's now time to decorate the house. It's a bit overkill to me, but when my parents do anything, they DO IT. "Honey where's the ladder? I need you to hang these from the ceiling" My mom rushes around frantically holding up decorations "Finn is going to be here soon! We have to hurry!". I roll my eyes "Is all of this even necessary?" I asked annoyed. "Yes it is y/n. Finn is apart of the family and this needs to be special!" My mom protests.

They didn't even do half of this for my college graduation party, but because Finn is a superstar now they go balls to the wall for him. I reluctantly finish decorating with my family. "Your brother says he and Finn are on their way over" My dad says looking at his phone. I sigh deeply, my family's gold child who isn't even their child is going to be arriving any second now. "You behave!" My dad says pointing at me "I don't want any drama". "Wouldn't dream of it" I say sarcastically We put the finishing touches on the house just as the doorknob turns and in walks my brother and Finn.

Finn is greeted with hugs and kisses from my parents as I stay far away, looking at him with fire in my eyes. "Oh hey y/n, still go that sour look on your face I see" Finn says pulling me into an unwanted hug. I dislike him, but our bodies touching did something to me. I quickly push him away "Yeah, welcome back I guess" I say walking to the dinner table and sitting down. We all enjoy a nice dinner, I remained silent to avoid saying anything rude. I just can't understand how they could do all of this for someone who isn't family, and forget about me. "We are so proud of you lad" My dad says smiling.

I feel my anger bubbling over and my cheeks turning red with rage. "I'm going to my room" I say fighting my rage as I slam my utensils down onto the table and storm away, slamming my door behind me. "I'm so sorry about that Finn" My mom says. "Don't be, I'll go talk to her" He replies as he walks away. I hear a knock at my door "Leave me alone!" I yell. I hear the door open anyway "I said lea-" I stop myself as I see Finn in my doorway "Please just go away" I say shoving my head into my pillow. Finn sits on my bed next to me and put his hand on my shoulder, sending shockwaves through my body. "I'm sorry if me being here isn't great for you, I'm only here because your parents really wanted me to be" Finn says softly

I refuse to respond, Finn sits next to me in silence. I'm not sure what came over me, but I pulled him into a deep kiss which he graciously accepted. Our tongues wrestled as our hands wandered. Was this my problem the entire time? I wanted him in bed? I reach into my nightstand, handing him a condom. "Y/n are you sure?" Finn says looking at me "Yes now put it on and pound me out" I say biting my lip. Finn does just that, slipping the condom over his hard penis before climbing onto me and sliding himself into me. I cover my mouth, I'm already full of lust. His strokes are full of passion and desire as my bed squeaks back and fourth. Finn puts his hands above my head, holding himself up as he delivers more strokes. His tone physique flexing as he fucks me with more passion.

"All this time, is this want you wanted?" Finn groans. "Fuck! I guess so!" I say through my moans. The air is thick with desire as his strokes intensify causing me to climax. I cover my mouth tighter as I fight through my orgasm. Finn delivers a few hard strokes before he releases his seed into the condom and we quickly get dressed as we hear footsteps coming "Everything okay?" My dad asks as he opens the door. "Everything is fine dad, we talked" I say smirking at Finn. "Lovely" He says "Come on lets have desert"

[papers4me]

What are you thoughts of Ogata's last chapter & death... Do you think it is an example of bad writing... seems that's what most fans think...

Hi anon! I loved Ogata's last chapter! there are things I didn't like in the last few chapters ( Tsukushima & Ushiyama), but Ogata's the winner when it comes to awesome character-writing!

What I like most abt Ogata is that his writing & characterization is so consistent since the beginning!! If you search Golden Kamuy tag in my tumblr, you'll find my writings/thoughts abt Ogata way before this last chapter comes & you'll see that what Ogata dealt with this chapter was in plain sight all along! I'm so happy that I read him correctly!!! Noda can deliver unexpected turns but so far it has been consistent with his character's core issues & character traits. Really nothing abt Ogata was surprising to me, except how well it was presented.

Ogata is not a hero nor a vicious villain, he is simply the same as all GK characters, a person in a journey to deal with his own issues. GK isn't abt gold hunt, nor forward political Ainu/Japan issues. It's a story abt characters embarking on self-focused journeys where they are the focus of their own mini tale. All of them, including the convicts at the beginning. Nikaiado was the focus on his own story, Nihei & others too. No one is 100% manipulated, powerless or a victim.

Each of the characters at least once in their journey had a choice to either let go, better themselves, rise above their own sins, repent, reflect, make a U-turn, or choose a happier path. ALL OF THEM. That's why GK is one of the best stories, cuz we watch 5678656 characters deal with things differently & either win or lose. Ogata is one of these characters & he went thro the same themes.

-The theme of " you can choose your path" regardless of your tragic surroundings:

Ogata is one of the most tragic characters. born to a mentally sick mother ( or perhaps she was healthy all a long, but developed toxic attachment issues to her partner) & a selfish, self-serving & conceited father. While he might have been loved when he was born, he found no love as he grew past his toddler years. An absent minded mother & an physically absent father. Extreme emotional neglect can cause serious issues in children. What Ogata went thro is sad & tragic. In his young mind, he believed that if he killed his mom, his dad would come rushing to her funeral, hence proving that love did exist in his family. But none of that happened. Children are capable of harmful thoughts & actions due to trauma & lack of proper mental judgement due to their age. Picture this: a child forming the thought & action of killing his mom with poison!! only to not achieve anything except more loss. He then sets to see this father, & further hurt him by killing the innocent brother, only to gain nothing as inn his last moments, the father still refuses Ogata as a son & shows no remorse & no love. Tragic background, but it was riddled with choices. In every step of the way. Ogata could have chosen to not pursue the father, he could choose to not kill Yuusaku, He could've also chosen to find another path to heal. There were redemption stops in his journey that he chose not to take in, Why? Cuz Ogata has decided that he is a victim!!! He decided that he is NOT loved by anybody. that he MUST prove to dead father who abandoned him that he was worthy of love, nurture & respect all along~~ If he could become the leader of the 7th division, he could prove that! to whom? a dead man. Tragic life can force a certain path on us, but inflecting harm on others is a choice we make in moments of weakness & darkness. There was happiness in Ogata's path. A brother who actively & genuinely sought his love & companionship, but Ogata was blind to that, cuz he has judged himself to be a victim on a journey to prove others wrong, a ben broken twisted man that can prove everybody is similar to him. Tragic story, bit uh! so well- written! ( also many characters share this theme but I'll only focus on Ogata now)

-The theme of " guilt & the human compassion":

Since Ogata has decided that he is a broken, bent, twisted victim, he refused to engage in guilt. He loved his mother & sought desperately to gain her love but fail. Killing her wasnt easy choice. While he didnt cry, he convinced himself that it was her fault for being pathetic or that he is simply twisted. He joined the army, where logically if you kill the enemy, you are a hero! it is expected of you & you are encouraged to do it. Further proving that all humans are twisted & bent. He met Usami, a guy with the most healthy & loving family in GK who saw no guilt in killing innocent child & thrived in war. Further proving to Ogata that he is the norm. Tsurumi a leader who celebrated death & rejoiced in battlefields, His fater sacrificed an entire division to win one battle for his own glory & honour, all the broken men in war, solidified this thought. Then he met Yuusaku, a guy who found no joy in war & who is desperately trying to cheat his way in an official manner into not killing anyone of his enemies by being a flag bearer. He doesn't even carry a sword. A guy who refuses to kill unarmed army prisoners. A guy who told him, "it isnt normal not not feel guit" Suddenly Ogata's entire identity is put into questioning & his perspective of life is shaken, but still Ogata chose to find validation from Usami that they are right, he chose to imitate Tsurumi's twisted mindset. Killing Yuusaku meant that Ogata has a tool to torture his father & also silence the voice of compassion.

GK is not a story abt superstitions, wandering spirits nor fantasy. It's based on reality. Yuusakue's ghost is not real & is only a fragment of Ogata's tired, sad consciousness. Ogata is a normal human being. He can feel guilt like all of us. But chose to silence e this feeling & chose to continue to believe that he is twisted & bent. Thast's why the ending is perfect. Ogata died knowing that he is normal, loved but chose wrong.

-The theme "letting go of the Past":

So many GK characters are chained to their past, Trurumi, Ogata, Sugimoto, Tsukushima & many more. Most of them refuse to let go, others cant find the proper copying mechanism to deal with their past sins & mistakes, Some accept that their present life is punishment if such sins & chose to remain still, Some want to punish the words as well for all the pain of the past. Most see no future. No... All of them see NO future. That's why, those who'll be able to let go of the nostalgic happy past & accept the sins of the recent past, will SEE a future. Ogata saw a future where he sat in his dad's position, but it was a future based on forcibly holding into the toxic past, built upon many wrong choices.

-The theme "Reaping what you saw":

I love this theme!! GK is unique in doing this theme properly. Most stories the most fan fave or the protag get away with things simply cuz fans dedicate stories. They're the customers afterall. I didnt necessarily wish for Ogata's death nor anyone's death. But You gotta pay the price of you sins towards others. Ogata paid it so thoroughly & in a really shocking writing style! truly interesting from a writing perspective. Now my eyes are on Tsukushima, will Noda treat him the same way? make him pay the price? Similar to Ogata, Tsukushima refuses to let go of the past & insist to continue a toxic path. They both have someone who cared for them trying to stop them. How will Noda deal with him worries me especially that few chapters are left, so perhaps the volume will have better & full exploration of Tsukusima's journey? I duno.

There are may themes & many things to say abt Ogata's arc! but one word is enough: Complete & very thorough!

Well done, Noda!

[fayeimara]

Meant To Be Series || One For Every Billion

1. Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa

*Both written and SMAU parts this epsiode*

You hear the familiar sound as you open the door and look inside the gym. The Shiratorizawa campus is definitely impressive but nothing feels more familiar than walking into a strange gym filled with mostly strangers. Back home or a world away, volleyball is the same, perfect sport.

"Y/nnnnnn!"

You're smiling wide before you even lock eyes with your favourite redhead. "Tendou!"

Your greeting is muffled in a bear hug to beat all bear hugs and you can't help but laugh as you wrap your arms around your cousin's best friend.

"I am glad you could make it." Toshi is standing behind Tendou with a small smile and you pull away to give him a hug too.

"Let us introduce you to coach first, and then you can meet the others."

"Sounds good!"

The three of you walk over to the side where a small elderly man is scowling at the players on the court and when Toshi introduces you, you follow what you know of polite customs here and bow at the waist in greeting, "Thank you for having me!"

"I hear you play as a setter for a premier league."

Yeah, Tendou and Toshi weren't lying about his intimidating demeanor, but you're unfazed. You've dealt with some like him and they're good leaders in their own way.

"Yes, sir."

"You're quite short for your age."

You blink. You're pretty sure you're the average height for girls your age. You're definitely on or above average in your league even though you're not as tall as your hitters. Okay, cheeky, it is.

"Yes, sir. I hear that sometimes from opponents before we play. Not so much after a game, however, if at all." Tendou starts chuckling only to muffle it when the coach's sharp gaze locks onto him for a moment before focusing back on the court.

"Is that so." He finally looks over, making eye contact and drawing out the silence for a few quiet seconds. "Well, height isn't critical for a setter, though it's an asset."

"Yes, sir." You have to bite the inside of your cheek so you don't push it. You're aware of his status and tenure, after all. To someone like him, kids your age with a little cheeky boldness and confidence can be surprising and impressive. Too much is disrespectful and you're still a guest here at the end of the day.

He looks back at the team and you do startle a bit when he barks out, "Did I say it was time for a break?!"

Looking over to the court, you finally realize the practice game has all but stopped. You meet several wide eyed, disbelieving stares before they jolt back into motion.

Tendou and Toshi leave you there to rejoin their teammates with a grimace and a nod, respectively. You just smile blandly and take a seat next to their coach.

-x-x-x-

By the time Coach Washijo blows the whistle for the end of their practice, you've got a clipboard on your lap with notes and the begrudging respect of the ornery man beside you. Yes, you know your shit when it comes to volleyball and you didn't hesitate to use your knowledge to impress. You have a feeling he'll be taking a look at the link you wrote down to your national games at some point given the observations you pointed out. Mission: Success.

As the boys are grabbing water and towels and gathering around, Coach locks eyes with you once again to study you as you smile politely back at him, waiting for what he's chewing over. "You can visit again."

And then he stands to address his team before heading over to his office and leave them to clean up.

You look away from his retreating figure and, oh my, that's a lot of eyes on you. Why do athletes look so pretty? You smile wider and stand to introduce yourself, "Hello. I'm L/n, Y/n, Toshi's cousin. Nice to meet you all and thank you for having me here for this practice."

You bow and they start stuttering and speaking over each other while Tendou laughs, knowing you're also teasing a little. They're clearly flustered so it takes the edge of your own nerves and your smile relaxes into something a little easier.

"Wow.. that was.. different. I've never seen anyone interact with Coach like that." You look over to an ash haired boy, oh hello- "I'm Eita Semi. Nice to meet you.”

He sounds a little brusque.. hmm. He's their setter and knowing Toshi and Tendou...

"Semi-san, your sets... they really show your love for volleyball."

His mouth drops, hopefully in surprise, but you also hope you didn't say anything too forward? You know it's pretty different here and some things like feelings aren't used as carelessly in conversation but.. he's blushing. Oh no.

You try to correct, just in case, "I mean, I hope it's not presumptuous or inappropriate to say! I'm lucky to call myself a setter too, so from one to another, I just wanted to say I can see how much fun you have and it's inspiring!"

Okay, now Tendou is literally dying of laughter, bent over grabbing his stomach but you can see his face and yeah, he literally looks like the emoji that's crying with laughter. And- what?! Even Toshi is smiling a little, he knows that under your calm and playful exterior there's an impulsive, reckless storm.

Semi raises his hand up to the back of his head and you swear he's full on blushing. Okay, yeah, no, you're good. It might sound cruel but when you see people more embarrassed or flustered than you, usually, you find your own equilibrium steadies in response.

"That's- uh- thanks! I hear you're incredible. I mean, as a setter. I- Thanks."

The rest of the team has been looking on and slowly amusement and excitement is like a wave that slides across their features. One of his teammates hits Semi across the back, knocking him forward a bit, while teasing him about compliments from a pretty girl. But you politely pretend not to hear and focus on some of the other members as they start asking you about yourself and answering your return questions about each of them.

I think we can call Operation: Meet Shiratorizawa a success, you think, happily satisfied with the people your dear cousin has to call his teammates and friends.

Prev | Next

Masterlist

Behind The Scenes!

-Toshi is not directly related to Y/n but they might as well be brother and sister for how close they are

-He’s actually her (bear with me, please) dad’s brother’s sister-in-law’s son : Her uncle’s wife is an Ushijima - so her aunt by marriage is sister to Toshi’s mom.. I’m sorry, am I making any sense?

-Their mutual cousins will appear in the story, you’ve already seen their profiles in Family Matters: Kazuya, Akira, and Akari

-Tendou has known Y/n as long as he’s known Toshi and treats her like a cross between best friend and older brother, which means he’s sometimes mean, always teasing, and he will smack, cut, bury a bitch if they hurt her

A/N: Two things.. 1) I absolutely love Ushijima, I find he's seriously underrated. Although I guess I’m guilty here too because he’s Y/n’s family instead of a love interest 😔 If anyone ever wants to see a Toshi fic, let me know, I’ll do my best to work on his characterization 2) CHARACTERIZATION... guys, I’ve wondered this with all the HQ characters I’ve incorporated so far, but.. I don’t know if I’m hitting anywhere close to what they might actually be like in the scenarios I put them in?? So I apologize in advance, and profusely, for all the HQ characters that turn out not quite.. the way they should lol. The writing kinda sorta maybe gets away from me all the time 😅

I lied, there's a third.. I know I've made several posts on days that I've posted so far, and while I do hope to be consistent with a steady couple posts a week (particularly concerning this fic, or rather, not including other fics and stuff I might decide to post as I get more comfortable here), I may not always be able to deliver the same amount of content as I a) am still slowly getting a handle on the social media aspect and how to smoothly deliver it; and b) catch up to where I'm at in the story. So I just want you all to know, I really appreciate your patience with me <3

[cynicallystiles]

Full Stop

Disclaimer: Gif originally posted by me.

Author: @cynicallystiles

Request: @itrocksmysocks - Song-based fic from the song “Punto y Aparte” by Morat.

Warning: Fluff, angst, slight mention of sex, and a breakup.

Notes: Soooo sorry this took so long. I’ve been trying to write when I have motivation so it didn’t turn out like shit. But, obviously, I’m not very motivated often. There will be a part two as requested, hopefully in a few days! Please COMMENT/REBLOG if you enjoy!

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x Reader

Masterlist in Bio

Words: 7,510

"Eyes, look your last! Arms, take your last embrace!" You hear Shawn speak his lines perfectly, if not a little bit over-dramatically. His voice comes from somewhere to your right, though you couldn't be sure because you had to keep your eyes closed and your arms crossed over your chest as if you were dead.

The air around you seems to change as he pauses for dramatic effect before his next line. "And lips, O you kiss the doors of breath..." his voice was right next to you now and honestly you were a little bit nervous. To have your first kiss not only be in front of a ton of people but to not even be able to react when the boy kisses you? Oh, it was a cruel joke.

"Seal with a righteous kiss..." You could feel his lips hovering just above yours hesitantly. "Y/n?"

You peek one eye open to see his face mere inches from yours. "Yes?" You whisper urgently because he's taking way too long.

"Sorry," he whispers back. "I just wanted you to see me when I kiss you." You barely have time to react as he leans down and places a sweet peck to your lips. You scrunch your eyes closed, trying to ignore your heart furiously beating in your chest.

He continues on with his lines, drinking the poison and 'dying.' You rise to a sitting position and continue through the play. Eventually, you find Shawn on the ground with a goblet in his hands. You say your lines as anxiety-free as possible, but that was a hard task considering now you had to kiss him while his eyes were closed.

"I will kiss thy lips," you project as you sit on your knees, cradling Shawn's limp body in your lap. "Haply some poison yet doth hang on them..." you caress his cheek, and you think you see him inhale sharply. "To make for with a restorative."

You lean your head down and your lips brush against his gently before you press them together firmly. After about a second, you pull back and lick your lips. "Thy lips are warm," you deliver your line as sadly as possible.

But when you look down, you see the slight smirk on Shawn's face and you barely manage to hide the grin that pulls at your lips. You continue the scene, 'stabbing' yourself and falling 'dead' on top of Shawn dramatically. Shawn almost burst out laughing at how heavily you fell onto him, and you wanted to laugh at him laughing.

The play ends and the two of you stand in the middle of the cast holding hands as you bow. The crowd cheers rather loudly and Shawn shoves you out in front of him to bow on your own. You do so and the crowd cheers louder, so you grip Shawn by his hand and pull him in front of you to bow by himself as you clap.

He turns to look at you over his shoulder with a broad grin and reaches his hand out to you. You blush furiously as you take it and intertwine your fingers before doing one final bow. When you both come back up, you throw your arms around his neck excitedly. Shawn doesn't react at first, too surprised by your sudden action. But he quickly recovers and wraps his arms around your waist before picking you up and spinning you around.

The two of you giggle uncontrollably as he sets you down and you run backstage to get changed out of your costumes. It was the end of the year play for the studio that the two of you took acting lessons at together. You'd been best friends since you were little, and doing these plays together gave you even more reason to always be with each other. The two of you were now 14 and in ninth grade and you were pretty certain that nothing would ever change between you two.

You finish changing and meet Shawn out in the lobby of the theater with your bag. Both of your parents agreed that you could spend the night at Shawn's after the play since the two of you were inseparable. It was becoming something of a tradition. Last year, he played Prince Charming while you were Cinderella. The two of you agreed that you'd just fake the onstage kiss for that one. But for Romeo and Juliet, it was important that it look as real as possible.

The two of you hopped in the back of Shawn's parents' car and they drove to his house. All the while, the two of you were in the back being uncharacteristically quiet. Street lamps that passed by shone snippets of light on Shawn's face as he looked out the window. When he turns and sees you looking at him, his cheeks tint pink and he grins broadly at you.

You return the grin at his goofy, yet cute smile. Even before he got his braces off, his smile was one of your favorite things about him. As soon as the car was in the driveway, you hopped out and raced inside up to Shawn's room. He passes the doorway to go to the bathroom to change into his pajamas and you changed in his room.

Just as you've pulled the T-shirt over your head, there's a timid knock on the door. You run over and fling it open so Shawn can enter as you flop your back onto his bed. He laughs while he goes to his desk chair, picking up his black guitar along the way. You flip over onto your stomach and rummage through your backpack as he strums the strings.

You finally fish out your book and roll back over onto your back as you hold it in the air above you to read. "Hey, y/n?" Shawn catches your attention and you tilt your head back to look at him upside down.

"Yeah?" Your eyes glance back at the book you were still holding in the air as you waited for his response.

His legs swivel the chair while he plucks a few experimental strings. "What song should I cover for my next video?" He let his eyes finally wander from the strings over to you on the bed. "Are you reading while I'm talking to you?"

"No..." you say distractedly.

"Then what did I ask you?" He chuckles.

Your eyes skim another line of your book and your heart swells with the words on the page. "You asked if you should get a haircut," you say plainly. "You definitely should."

"Y/n!" He whines playfully.

A giggle falls from your lips as you close the book and turn over to face him properly. "I'm just kidding! Geez." You sit upright, letting your legs dangle off of the bed. "You asked what song you should cover for your next video, duh."

"And your answer?" He prompts you as he sets his guitar back in its stand.

You shrug, picking up your book and opening it in your lap. "You should cover whatever you wanna cover, Shawn. Why am I always picking out your songs?" As your eyes go back to reading, Shawn stands up and snatches the book from your lap. "Hey-"

"You're always picking them out because you're my best friend and I like what you pick." He closes the book dramatically and looks at the cover. "What is this, anyway?"

Getting to your feet, you cross the small distance to Shawn. "It's a book of poetry if you must know," you reply as you reach out to take it back. He quickly moves it out of your reach above his head.

"You're such a sap," he laughs. "Why don't you just read romance novels like everyone else?" He stretches his arm higher as you jump to try and reach the book.

You let out a huff as you cross your arms momentarily. "Not all poetry is about love, genius." You hop again and barely manage to grip the corner of the book.

"Oh, yeah? Then, what is poetry about?" He challenges.

Your hand pulls on the book, and Shawn pulls back harder causing you to stumble forward. His other hand steadies you by your waist and he looks down at you intently as he waits. "It's about life."

"Life, huh?" He breathes out. You're chest to chest and you begin to breathe shallowly.

You nod, swallowing to ease the sudden dryness in your throat. "It's about life and the things that happen to you in it..." you murmur. He tilts his head as if to ask you to go on, so you do. You roll your eyes to cover the heat flushing your cheeks. "There are some poems about love...but also about loss and how to keep going when it's hard."

He slowly lowers his hand and the two of you clutch the book in between you. "Why would you wanna read sad poetry?"

"I don't know..." You shrug. "Because when they put it out there for everyone to read...it's not sad anymore, it's just beautiful."

You look down and scrunch your lips to one side nervously before rolling them together. When you look back up, Shawn has a look that you don't recognize on his features. He opens his mouth to speak when you hear his mom's voice from downstairs. "Midnight is in five minutes!! Come downstairs to watch the fireworks!"

He jumps and you pull the book from him while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You clear your throat as you toss it on the bed. "Don't wanna miss the fireworks." You walk around Shawn and out of the tense atmosphere of his room. He slowly follows you downstairs, a few steps behind.

"Aww," his mom coos. "You two look adorable in your matching pajamas! I'm so glad you made those last year! Here...stand together so I can get a picture."

She motions for you to scoot closer. Shawn stands next to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. You wrap yours around his waist while putting your other hand up in a 'peace' sign. He slightly leans into you and does the same with his other hand.

"Oh, come on. Smile, you two. You look like someone died," his dad chips in.

Fighting the fluttering feeling in your chest, you pull your features into a broad smile. You glance at Shawn as he does the same, his smile always looking better than yours no matter the circumstances. You feel his hand squeeze your shoulder and all the weirdness from before fades away.

The camera clicks and the flash goes off, momentarily blinding the both of you. When you take a look at it, you're not completely appalled by it. Shawn looks as cute as he always does in his dark blue, plaid pajama pants. Your T-shirts are white with both of your names written on the front in colorful lettering.

After grabbing some soda, the two of you head out onto the porch to watch the sky for the fireworks happening soon. You both rest your arms on the railing as you clutch your cups. It's pretty cold, and neither of you wore jackets out because it was only supposed to be a few minutes.

"Hey, Shawn," you break the silence with an unsure tone.

He takes a sip of his soda before answering, "Yeah?"

"Why...why did you have me open my eyes for the kiss in the play?" The question had been picking at the back of your mind since it happened and you figured you'd just ask.

He straightens up a little bit and turns his head to look at you. "Because it was your first kiss and I know that you would've wanted to at least be able to see who was kissing you first."

"How do you know that?" You narrow your eyes at him skeptically.

Shawn shrugs and a tiny grin appears on his lips as he looks into your eyes. "Because I know you."

You blink a couple times, unsure of how to respond to that. "Well, thanks. I mean, that doesn't count as my first kiss anyway...but thanks for the thought." You decide to play it cool. You kind of did count it, only because it was Shawn. But, you didn't want to let him know that.

"O-oh, it doesn't?" Shawn clears his throat as he straightens his back a little bit more.

Your brows quirk together quickly and you straighten up to face him. "Not really," you chuckle nervously. He looks down at his slipper-clad feet before setting his cup on the rail. "I mean, I just figured you didn't count it either since it was acting. You're gonna be kissing all kinds of girls when you're in movies someday."

"Yeah...yeah, I guess you're right," he says softly as he toes a chunk of snow off the porch. "I never really thought about it that way." He grows quiet and you can see the deep pink taking over his cheeks.

"Shawn," you say, a sudden and crazy idea popping into your head. He looks up from the ground at you shyly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

A soft smile returns to his lips. "Yeah. You can ask me anything," he replies honestly.

"Will you kiss me at midnight?" You blurt out quickly for fear that you'd get too scared to ask.

His eyebrows practically shoot up to his hairline. "Will I what??" He laughs incredulously.

"You heard what I said." You frown at his reaction because it wasn't at all what you were expecting. He continues chuckling and you just cross your arms and turn back to the rail murmuring, "It wasn't that funny."

He immediately stops laughing, seeing that he's hurt your feelings. "Oh, come on y/n. I didn't mean it like that, it's just..." You fix your eyes on the cup in your hands and he gently lays his hand on your forearm. "Hey, look at me."

"Why?" You deadpan. "So you can laugh in my face again?" Inside you hear the countdown starting at a minute. 59, 58, 57...

His hand pulls more firmly and you let your body face him. "I promise, I was not laughing at what you asked." He holds his pinky up silently waiting for you to believe him. You heave a sigh as you take his pinky with yours.

"Then, what were you laughing at?"

"You just...caught me off-guard," he slightly chuckles again. You squeeze your pinky around his and he continues. "Why do you want me to kiss you at midnight?" 36, 35, 34...

You shrug, still not meeting his eyes. "I thought you sounded disappointed that I didn't count our stage one." You summon all your courage to look at him. "I thought maybe...you wanted me to count you as my first." 13, 12, 11...

He doesn't respond right away and you assume that means you were wrong about his tone earlier. 5, 4, 3... "I do." Your eyes widen and before you know what's happening, Shawn is leaning down to bring his lips to yours.

Your eyes close instinctively, this time knowing he's about to kiss you. You feel his lips ghost over yours shyly and you tilt your head upward toward him. His breath fans your lips just before you feel them press against yours. You inhale slowly as your heart pounds in your chest.

You vaguely hear the fireworks go off above you, but it's hard to say for sure with how loud the blood is rushing in your ears. His lips are soft and delicate while he keeps them pursed against yours for a few more moments. You find yourself leaning further into him just as he pulls away, a nervous smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

When your eyes flutter open, you see a kind of shyness you've never seen in him before. "Uh...um," he stutters before swallowing quickly. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year, Shawn," you giggle. "Thanks...for, uh, you know...being my first kiss." You clear your throat as if it would make your heart stop pounding in it.

One corner of his mouth pulls up. "You're welcome." After a moment, he quickly adds, "And thank you, too! Because...you know, being my first kiss and all." He shrugs awkwardly and you laugh.

"You...are welcome," you reply softly. You blink slowly before tipping your head slightly to the side. "About the song you should cover..."

He looks lost for a second before he shakes his head while remembering. "Oh. Never mind about that. I've got one in mind now." His eyes gaze into yours and your eyebrows furrow together intrigued.

"Are you gonna tell me?" You question. He shrugs with a mischievous glint in his eye as you realize that you're still holding pinkies. You release yours and let your hand go to the pocket of your matching pajama pants. "We should get inside...it's really cold."

Shawn's eyes widen when he sees you slightly shivering. "Right!" He grabs your cups and ushers you inside where he wraps a thick blanket around you. "You should come over when I record the next song. That way you can give me your opinion..."

"Sure, sounds fun," you answer automatically, thinking nothing of it as you watch his parents dance to a song that's come on the radio. Beside you, Shawn watches your face and how your eyes follow the movements of his parents wondrously. Your eyes almost close completely when you grin broadly at how goofy they were acting and Shawn gets lost in the sound of your laugh that follows.

A couple of weeks later, you head over to Shawn's house after school just like you said you would. The door is unlocked when you get there and you call out into the house, "Hello? Shawn! I'm here!!" You close it and head upstairs to his room.

The door is cracked and you hear a racket coming from inside. You carefully push the door open and stand there as you take in the scene. Shawn is frantically running around his room picking up dirty clothes and throwing them in his hamper, straightening random things along the way. You clear your throat loudly.

"Ah!" Shawn spins around, almost falling over his book bag. You stifle a laugh as you watch him regain his balance. "Y/n! When did you get here?" He finishes putting the dirty clothes away and sits in his desk chair quickly.

You enter and sit on the edge of his bed. "Just now..." your eyebrows scrunch together at his weird behavior and you scoff. "What is up with you? You never clean your room," you point out.

"That," he says as he claps his hands together, "is not important right now." He stands up from the chair and pulls you off the bed by your hands. "What is important is that I play the song with you before I record it so you just sit here..." He gently pushes you into the desk chair and swivels you by your knees to face the stool he plays on.

Shawn sits on the stool facing you as he adjusts the beanie on his head. "Shawn. Seriously, why are you acting like you took Adderall?" You chuckle as you relax back in the chair.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Sorry...I'm just really nervous about what I'm about to do. So, just," he sighs as he rubs his palms up and down his thighs anxiously, "Don't laugh at me, okay?"

"Promise," you respond immediately serious at his tone and mannerisms. You sit up and nod at him to play for you while you listen. He smiles timidly and picks up his guitar, resting it on his lap while he takes a couple of deep breaths.

Slowly, he begins playing the strings to a familiar song that you hear on the radio all the time. It's one of your favorites, actually. Wanted by Hunter Hayes. You smile softly as Shawn continues to sing. After the first couple of lines, he gains the confidence to look up from the guitar to you as he sings.

You bop your foot along and quietly hum the lyrics. By the second chorus, you're singing along fully with him. Shawn smiles as he sings to you, not expecting you to sing back to him. Truthfully, you were a pretty good singer because of being in choir since you were little. But, that wasn't really what you wanted to do with your life. The two of your voices mix together in perfect harmony as Shawn strums the last of the notes.

Grinning broadly, you clap. "That was so good, Shawn!! You should definitely record it and put it up on YouTube," you encourage him. He blushes slightly as he sets the guitar back in its stand and his hands go back to resting on his knees.

"Thanks," he chuckles as he catches his breath. "You were great, too! I didn't expect you to sing along."

He smiles at you incredulously as you shrug. "Ah, I couldn't help it! You sounded so good and I love the song..." you trail off as you look at him and see his smile has faded. "I'm sorry, did I ruin it?" You giggle.

"What? No!" He quickly disagrees.

"Then, why do you look like I just ruined it?"

He shakes his head and stands up. "You didn't ruin it. I'm just...preparing myself for what comes after the song," he admits.

"Oh, and what comes after?" You ask curiously. Shawn's mouth opens to speak but he closes it again. "You're worrying me. Did you take something?" You tease.

He narrows his eyes at you menacingly but his lips quirk into a reluctant grin. "I'm not on anything. But, I think may be in something."

"...like your room? Or this house?" You ask with a chuckle.

Shawn walks over to you without warning and pulls you up to stand by your hands. You can see by the movements of his chest that he's breathing very deeply as he looks into your eyes. He inhales one more time before closing his eyes and leaning forward to bring his lips to yours.

Your eyes close and you feel his soft lips press into yours, just like they did on New Year's Eve. He carefully brings his hands to hold you by your waist and you rest yours on his chest. You tilt your head and your lips move against his at a different angle. His fingertips sink into your waist slightly before he presses his lips into yours a little more firmly before breaking away from you.

You breathe out slowly, unsure of what just happened. Your eyebrows are raised and you keep your eyes closed while you wait for the dizzy feeling to go away. "Well, you didn't pull away..." Shawn breathes out and his words fan your lips.

"Why did you do that?" You whisper with your eyes still closed.

He clears his throat. "Because I like you. Like, I like like you. I'm in like with you," he rambles on and you chuckle. "And...I think you're in like with me too."

You just barely manage to gain control of your body and force your head to tilt up and down once. The movement is almost imperceptible to Shawn, so you speak as well. "You...would be right. Yeah."

"Awesome," he breathes out and you can hear the smile in his tone. You let your eyes flutter open and find his hazel brown eyes gazing right into yours. "Y/n...will you be my girlfriend?" He whispers, the shyness returning.

A smile takes over your lips as you nod fully this time. "Yeah. Yeah, I will." He lets out a relieved chuckle as he snakes his arms around your waist and you let yours slide around the back of his neck.

Things after that afternoon changed. You were no longer allowed to spend the night at each other's houses (understandably). The two of you were always holding hands in between classes and stealing kisses at hockey games. Shawn took you to a movie for your 15th birthday and you didn't really watch much of it. You thought that things were gonna be perfect like this forever.

But, they weren't. You saw a little bit less of Shawn when he went on tour with Magcon with other Viners after he gained a whole lot of followers very quickly and was an opening act for Austin Mahone on his tour. Then, some manager discovered him and flew him to a real-life record label. Everything was happening so fast, you don't even remember Shawn saying that he wanted to switch his dream from being an actor to a singer.

You had things going on for yourself though. By your 16th birthday, you had won a couple of poetry contests and one of your poems was even published in a literary magazine. Although, your big news was kind of overshadowed by Shawn's new that he was officially a signed singer. You saw even less of him as he worked to release his EP in the summer.

While you were really proud of him, you had to admit that you were feeling kind of lonely. Yes, he was your first real boyfriend, but no amount of American movies and TV shows could've prepared you for what to do when your boyfriend slowly becomes a pop star. You were just hoping that things with Shawn would be normal enough for the two of you to get through 11th grade together.

And they were. Slightly. He still came to school with you. But, he dropped out of all his extra-curriculars to work on his first full-length album. In August for his 16th birthday, you made him promise to take the whole day off so you could spend it together. He kept his promise and the two of you went out to eat and a movie.

Afterward, you found a nice secluded place where you could park your car and lay on the hood to look at the stars. Shawn lays with his back on the windshield, one arm resting behind his head as he curls the other around you.

"This is so nice," you say nuzzling closer into his chest.

He kisses the top of your head and pulls you into him as well. "I know. I feel like we haven't had a chance to be alone in a while," he chuckles. You don't answer, just quietly savoring this moment with him. "I know that's mostly my fault. I'm sorry I've been so busy-"

"Shhh," you cut him off as you sit up and look down at him. "I don't wanna talk about you being busy. Because right now..." You trail off as you slowly start to peel off your jean jacket. "You are completely and absolutely free."

Shawn leans up on his elbows. "Uh...y/n, what are you doing?" He chuckles nervously. You finish taking off your jacket and set it on the hood next to you before straddling him.

"Do you not want to?" You ask nervously as your hands rest on his chest. He shifts slightly beneath you.

"No. I mean yes! I mean-" he swallows as he takes your hands in his. "I want to. I just figured you'd want it to be more special than this," he admits.

You chuckle as you take his jaw in your hands and lean down to kiss him sweetly. "Anytime and anywhere is special," you whisper against his lips. "As long as it's with you."

His lips curl into a smile against yours as he grips your hips with both hands. He kisses you back eagerly before leaning back suddenly. "Wait, I don't have anything." He looks at you worriedly and you let your head fall forward a bit as you giggle.

"I didn't want to assume or anything, but..." you reach into your back pocket to retrieve the little square package. "I was kind of hoping."

He looks at you incredulously as he brings one hand to the back of your neck. "You're the most amazing girl I've ever met," he confesses as he pulls your lips back down to his.

That was your first time together. After that, he was so much more touchy and clingy. But, you loved every single second of it. You loved every single time you got to hang out with Shawn outside of school because those times were few and far between.

As he continued to work on his album, you took up piano lessons and learned fast. You even began dabbling in songwriting. You were pretty good at it. About a month before your 17th birthday, you had called Shawn to tell him about a songwriting competition where the winner would get a chance to help write a song for Selena Gomez's next album.

"Babe! You'll never guess what happened. I have the most exciting news!" You squealed into the phone.

He replied just as excitedly, almost as if he didn't even hear what you said. "I have big news too! Come over in an hour and I'll tell you all about it!" You opened your mouth to respond but the line had already gone dead.

An hour later, you found yourself at Shawn's house heading up to his room. You knock and he opens the door with the biggest grin on his face. He pulls you into a tight hug before ushering you inside. Just as he's about to close the door you hear his dad's voice from somewhere in the house, "NO CLOSED DOORS!"

You giggle as Shawn pulls the door back open wide. He perches on the edge of his bed and you take your place in his desk chair. "So..." you clasp your hands in your lap excitedly. "Do you want to share your news first or should I?"

"I guess I'll go first since it's kind of a lot," he proposes. "I'm still trying to wrap my mind around it all. Um," he continues before he clears his throat. "Okay. So I wanted you to be the first to know that my album is finished!"

You shoot up out of your chair at his news. "Oh my god, Shawn! That's wonderful!" You laugh excitedly as you pull him up to his feet for a hug. "I'm so proud of you," you murmur into his neck while his hand rubs up and down your back. You pull back so you can see his face. "So, I actually have some similar-"

"Wait, that's not the only news I had..." he admits.

Your eyebrows scrunch together as you sit down. "It's not?" He walks over and sits down on the stool where he used to record all his YouTube videos.

"I also have a gig lined up for the summer," he slowly confesses.

"Oh, that's great! What is it?"

He inhales deeply before releasing it. "It's being the opening act for Taylor Swift's 1989 Tour!" He grins happily. Your eyebrows raise as your mouth parts slightly, unsure of what to say.

"Wow," you breathe out. "So...you're gonna be gone all summer." Your eyes fall to your lap as an aching feeling seeps into your heart.

Shawn gets up and kneels in front of you while he takes your hands. "Hey...don't be sad. Please? Then I'm gonna be sad," he chuckles.

You nod as you look back to him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he pleads. "I'll be back to finish school and graduate with you! It's just one summer. I know we can make it work." He squeezes your hands comfortingly.

"You're right...I'm really happy for you. I'm just gonna miss you is all." You smile sadly as you look at your intertwined fingers in your lap.

He thinks for a moment before standing up slowly. "Tell you what..." he goes back to his stool and picks up his guitar. "I'm gonna play you a song that's on the album that was inspired by you."

"You really wrote me a song?" You crack a tiny smile as you look at him.

He nods proudly. "A few actually, but this one is specifically to make you feel better when I'm gone." He grins at you broadly. "But, don't tell anyone. Technically, I'm not supposed to share it until the album comes out next week."

"Promise, I won't tell a soul," you giggle.

"Good," he states. "Now, scoot over here," he demands.

You laugh as you use your feet to scoot the chair all the way over to right in front of him. "Better?"

"Much!" He leans over his guitar and kisses you on the cheek before he begins strumming the guitar. You listen as he begins singing an achingly beautiful song he called Never Be Alone. By the time he finishes the song, your eyes have started watering.

"Babe, that was really beautiful." You smile sadly as you dab at your eyes to make sure no tears have dripped.

He sets the guitar back in its stand and cups your cheeks. "I'm gonna call you every chance I get, and before you know it...I'll be back for school." Shawn smiles reassuringly at you before leaning down and softly pressing his lips to yours.

Your heart is so full of your feelings for him that you forget to tell him that you won that competition. For a week in the summer, you were gonna get to stay in L.A. to write a song with Selena Gomez.

Summer came and Shawn left for Taylor's tour. About a month after, you were touching down in L.A. to work with Selena Gomez on her next single. In the month since he left, Shawn had managed to call you at least once a week. Though you thought it would be much more often.

You were in the studio one day, throwing ideas around with Selena and some other writers getting absolutely nowhere. "Guys, my brain is fried. Maybe we should order lunch and take a break," Selena suggests.

"I second that. All I had this morning was water," you chuckle tiredly.

Selena claps her hands. "Great! Let's get pizza and then we'll be back at it reenergized!" She orders enough for your small group and they get to talking while you wait.

You don't hear much of their conversation as you keep checking your phone for texts from Shawn. Selena swipes the phone from your hand. "Hey!"

"Ooo! Who's Shawn?? And why have you been opening and closing his contact for the past fifteen minutes?" She giggles mischievously.

You grab it back from her politely and put it back in your pocket. "He's my boyfriend," you admit and a blush creeps up your neck. "He's on tour and he said he would text me this morning but hasn't yet," you explain.

"On tour? Is he a musician?" Selena questions.

You smile softly, loving the chance to brag about him. "Yeah! He, um...he's actually opening for Taylor in her North America concerts."

"No way! Hold on, I'm looking him up..." she replies, already on her phone. "Damn, y/n! He's a cutie! I don't know how you keep your hands to yourself around him..."

You laugh loudly. "I literally can't!" You let your laugh die down a bit before adding on, "I mean I could, but why would I want to?"

Selena stops mid-giggle and stares at you like you've just invented electricity. "What did you just say?"

"What?"

She sits up excitedly in her chair. "What you just said! About keeping your hands to yourself! That'd be a great lyric!"

"Oh! I said..." you pause trying to remember your exact phrasing. "I think I said, 'I mean I could, but why would I want to'."

"We're onto something," Selena mumbles as you all get back to writing before the pizzas even arrive.

You successfully finish the song before heading back to Canada. The rest of the summer was kind of dull compared to hanging out with Selena Gomez but you made the best of it. Shawn wasn't able to call or text as often as he promised he would. But, that didn't really matter by the time he got back because you were excited to see him again.

While his parents went to pick him up from the airport, they said you could stay at the house with his little sister as a surprise. You had gotten some balloons and made a cake to celebrate the end of his first tour and also him being home.

His parents come through the front door with his suitcases while he's still getting his guitar from the trunk. "Here let me help you with that, Mrs. Mendes!" You say excitedly as you take a suitcase and set it by the stairs.

"Thanks, sweetie." She takes a deep breath as she looks around. "You really outdid yourself! Shawn's gonna love it." She smiles warmly at you as she squeezes your shoulder.

"Mom! Dad!" Shawn calls out absentmindedly as he enters the house. "I think I may have lost my charger-" his words cease as he looks up to see the decorations and you standing there.

You reach into your pocket and pull out a handful of confetti before throwing it into the air to shower down over Shawn. "SURPRISE!!" You giggle excitedly as you throw your arms around his shoulders.

"Oh, wow," he breathes out as he drops his guitar case to hug you back slightly. "You really didn't have to do all this."

You let go of him so you can properly take in his appearance. He looks slightly different than the last time you FaceTimed, but still his cute self. "Oh! It was nothing, really." You grin happily as Shawn's eyes continue to dart between the decorations and the cake and you.

"Well...let me take my stuff up to my room and then we can catch up," He clears his throat weirdly before turning to head up the stairs.

You look at his parents nervously. "Is he okay?"

"I'm sure he's just a little jet-lagged, honey," his mom assures you. You nod as you force a smile onto your face. Something in your gut didn't feel right from the way that Shawn was acting.

A little while later after everyone has had a piece of the cake, you notice Shawn lingering by the door. When you make eye contact, he nods toward the door before heading outside onto the porch. You close the door behind you and sit next to him on the top step.

"What's going on?" You chuckle as you nudge his shoulder with yours. "You love when I make a cake with my mom's recipe."

His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply. "No. I love the cake," he forces a small smile as he glances at you before training his stare back onto the sidewalk. "I just, uh...I just wrote a couple songs while I was on tour and wanted to get your opinion on one."

"Oh!" You scoff playfully as your brows crease. "Why didn't you just say so? I'm sure they're great," you assure him as he pulls out his phone and headphones.

You place the buds in your ears and let him press play. A slow piano melody begins to play, and it immediately tugs at your heartstrings. You glance over at Shawn who's still looking down to his lap. The lyrics to a song called Running Low start and you sway slightly as you listen.

The further into the song you get, the more your movements slow to a stop. You find yourself staring hard at the pavement of the sidewalk as you feel tears prick your eyes. As the song ends, you take out the earbuds and hand them back to Shawn.

"Wow," you whisper as you sniffle a little bit. "That was, um," you pause before letting out a chuckle as you finish, "sad, to be honest. That was really sad, babe."

He nods slowly, still unable to meet your eyes. "Yeah," he clears his throat. "It was just something that was rattling around in my head..."

A feeling of heaviness spreads throughout your body and it feels like you swallowed concrete. "What, um," you swallow as your throat becomes increasingly dry, "is everything okay?"

"No," he says barely audible. Your breath immediately hitches in your throat and it's becoming increasingly hard to breathe. "No, it's not."

You try to remain calm as your mind jumps to every single worst case scenario. "What's wrong? You can tell me anything, babe..."

"I know," he sighs deeply. "But, we have to stop seeing each other." Just like that, the breath is pulled from your lungs and you’re struggling to stop your hands from shaking. He said it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

You wanted to ask questions. But you knew that if you did, your voice would break and you didn't want him to hear you like that. You try and force air into your lungs as you stand up slowly. "I'll see you at school," you whisper as you go down the steps and head to your car.

Shawn stands and follows you quickly. "Y/n!" He grabs your hand and you pause, waiting to hear what he has to say without looking at him. "You understand what I said, right?"

"Yeah," you choke out as you roll your eyes slightly while the tears build in them. "You're breaking up with me. Anything else?" You kept your tone small and quiet so you wouldn't sound like how you felt inside. Like every piece of your heart was shattering.

He tugs on your hand a little bit, but you remain facing away from him. "Anything else?" He questions in confusion. "Y/n, I just broke up with you and that's all you have to say?" He asks, slightly hurt.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know! Something!" His voice rises slightly. "We dated for over two and a half years. We...shared most of our firsts together. I just expected you to be a little more affected than this.."

You turn around slowly and stare at him. The tears that were building up had overflowed and your mascara was smudging at the corners where you had scrunched your eyes. Your bottom lip trembles as you pry your hand away from his.

"Is this affected enough for you?" You ask plainly. As you wipe the slick tears from your cheeks you sigh heavily. "Guess I can add first heartbreak to that list of stuff we shared, huh?" You chuckle coldly as your sadness fizzles into anger because it's an easier emotion to deal with. "Were you just doing this to see how I'd react?" You ask disbelievingly.

Shawn's eyes widen. "What? No! I would never do that to you, y/n..." You nod along to his words sarcastically, as if you could believe anything that came out of his mouth anymore. "You just deserve more time dedicated to you than I can give you. I mean I barely talked to you all summer and I feel terrible about it-"

You interrupt him angrily. "So you just break up with me instead of trying to make it work?? This is our last year of school together and you're giving up! You're a quitter, Shawn!"

"No! That is not it," he replies sternly. You cross your arms and raise an eyebrow challengingly. "I'm gonna be going on a lot of tours as my career takes off, y/n. Most longer, and more hectic than this one. It'll just get harder to make time for you and I don't want you to feel like I don't love you!"

You throw your hands up exasperatedly. "Great. So you figured you'd just move up that timetable and make me feel like you don't love me now. That's the perfect logic," you lament.

"I do love you, y/n-"

"No." You shake your head as you turn and walk to your car. As you open the driver's side, you look at Shawn over the hood of your car. "No, you don't. At least not enough to try and make it work. Not enough to believe that we could've made it."

He opens his mouth to respond, but you get into your car and slam the door. The tears are back at the brim of your eyes as you buckle your seatbelt and start your car. You look out the passenger window and see that Shawn as walked up closer to the car. A scoff escapes your lips as you pull away from the curb, leaving Shawn in your rearview mirror.

[ketso]

Episode 53

"I made this for dad." Siya says as he shows me some drawing while I'm trying to dress him up for school.

"It’s nice, fana."

"Do you think he will like it?"

"He will."

"Mommy, how come he didn't raise me? Why did I have to be raised by Mbali's dad?"

I'm quiet because never in a million years did I think that Siya would be calling Mthunzi "Mbali's dad." This is my fault. I thought I could have it all. Mthunzi is a good man. He raised Siya knowing very well that Siya isn't his son. I was selfish and I don't want Siya to think that Mthunzi is a bad person. But I know I have to tell him some version of the truth - not all of it though.

"Fana, sit here with mommy. We need to talk." I say.

He obliges.

"First of all, Mthunzi is a good man. I don't want you to hate him. He did a lot for you and he has always known that you were not his son. So please, don't hate him. Mommy is the one who made a huge mistake. I was selfish and I costed you guys a lot of happiness. And I am so sorry."

He is quiet. He looks at me.

"So, did dad not want me?"

Now I must lie. The truth is, George didn't want to hurt his wife and complicate his children's lives. He loved them and anyone who threatened their innocence regarding George's real life, he would kill. Siya was that. So George was okay with Mthunzi stepping up and hiding George's shame. But when Mthunzi bailed, he stepped up because he believed that no child of his would go hungry.

"He did. Mommy didn't let him near you because I didn't want to confuse you and I didn't want to hurt Mthunzi."

Siya looks at me.

"Maybe I should phone Mbali's dad and thank him for everything he has done for me. It's the least that I can do. He has never made me feel like I wasn't his child. But I am still hurt that he just dropped us."

I look at him.

"Let’s just maybe leave him alone right now. He has moved on with his life and we don't have to keep holding him back." I say.

He sighs. I don't know what that means, but he just sighs.

"But fana, I love you. And no matter what, it will always be me and you. You are my baby and I love you so much. There is nothing that I wouldn't do for you. Okay?"

He nods his head. I hug him. He lets me.

...

I am on my iPad doing some research for a business plan that I am putting together while the kids are eating their breakfast. They are chatting amongst themselves about school. Sandile comes in and gives them their fatherly love moment before he joins us and eats breakfast. His girlfriend is still serving us and it irks me. The joy I have at making her feel like the whore she is is unmatched.

KG and mama walk in together and also settle at the table.

"No work at the table", my mom says.

I close my iPad and put it aside. I check my phone for any text messages from George. Nothing. He has been uncomfortably quiet lately. I hope everything is okay. His cellphone probably got confiscated or something. But I send him a text anyway, just so he doesn't assume that I have forgot about him.

"I hope your sexy self slept well. I miss you. Please at least let me know that you are okay."

Sex is it for him. Sex. Sex. Sex. That's all he ever wants. It makes things easier between us. He is locked up and I guess, he has everything but sex and I make sure that I deliver when requested.

"Working on something?" KG asks me.

I look at Sandile's girlfriend.

"I'm just doing some research on domestic work. I'm thinking of starting a domestic work company where we recruit domestic workers and actually train them, you know. I want to train them on how to behave in people's houses above and beyond just cleaning houses. Because wow, behaviour in our houses is just disgusting. Imagine the amount of domestic workers we can replace in houses - domestic workers that just don't know how to behave. It is needed because wow, we are tired."

Sandile gives me a look. My mom gives me a look. Sandile's girlfriend is uncomfortable and looks like she wants to cry - good. KG is the only one who receives this as a potential business opportunity. So, she humours me.

"That is not a bad idea yaz. Come to think about it, it would help with also keeping them protected as far as legislation is concerned. Some work under bad conditions, are abused by employers and it’s important that they are protected in their precarious work places.”

"I agree with you, my love. Some employers are very abusive. These domestic workers need advocates", Sandile says, looking at me.

"And so do the poor women who have their husband's penises being the biggest advocate for the domestic worker." I say.

"Sindiswa, the kids." My mom.

And shame, the poor kids are looking at me with their mouths wide open.

"Sorry guys. I'll wash my mouth with Handy Andy and make sure I keep it clean." I say. We always threaten to wash their mouths with Handy Andy when they say things they have no business saying.

Sandile shakes his head at me. His girlfriend sounds like she's breaking our dishes in the sink and KG is seriously pondering on this idea.

"Don’t think too hard on it, KG. Let me do my research and see what I come up with. Hopefully we can be instrumental in formalizing the industry so people who deserve the jobs, get them - not those who come in scouting for retirement plans from them men in the house."

"Sindiswa!" My mom.

Sandile's girlfriend steps out of the kitchen and does something outside. I giggle.

"Sindi, I'm so sorry for what your domestic worker did with Mthunzi. It really affected you, yaz sisi. I'm here if you need to talk." KG says to me.

Was I also this blind vele when I was in her position?

...

I am at my boutique right now, going through some admin. I also need to make payment to the company that George's wife works in so it can make payments for what she needs to look after kids. George told me that she needs to get a car. He said that he spoke to Sydney Ramagoshi on how to spin it, I must make the payment to the dealer. I make the payment to Mercedes Benz for her to get a GLC coupe. Then I make a payment to BMW for her to get a 4-series. She is getting two cars. Imagine. The more George makes me do things to make her life better, the more I realise just how much this man disrespects me and takes me for granted. The real queen here is his wife. I am just the sex slave with his child who is in control of executing his affairs. I'm the mother of his son and I'm not even deserving of a car? I'm driving a Polo for crying out loud because my brother felt that his wife needed to be given whatever she wanted - and she wanted my BMW.

Now that I have made payments, I sit in the office at the back of the store and watch the customers come in and be assisted by my staff. I see my brother walk in through the door and make his way to my office. I hope that he is not here to tell me crap about his girlfriend because I do have words for him if he does.

He walks in and finds my eyes waiting for him to walk through the door. He settles on the couch-like chair opposite me and across my desk.

I look at him. He takes a deep breath. And then?

"You need to take it easy on… you know." He says. Oh, we are talking about the girlfriend and he is struggling to even say her name. It’s a simple name really – Hoodrat.

"She needs this job. She has -

"I honestly don't want to know. Hoodrat is an employee and I am her employer. The requirement is for her to do the job, I don't need excuses and explanations regarding ubufebe bakhe. If she needs this job, she must act like she actually does."

"Sindi, I'm the one who made the mistake here. Make my life a living hell and leave that poor girl alone. What happened between us was a mistake and it's over. Just please leave her alone."

I look at him.

"How are things with George?" He asks me.

"They are okay. Siyasebenzisana." I say.

He nods his head.

"Kgomotso wants us to go back." He says.

I look at him.

"I mean, the reason that we left in the first place is now non-existent. Maybe we can think about going back?" He says.

"I've also been thinking about it, but I didn't want to bring it up. We can't keep moving every time my life is disrupted. I already feel so selfish."

He looks at me.

"Siya asked me this morning why Mthunzi raised him if his dad was alive. I've never felt more selfish in my life."

"Don’t do that. You were not selfish. You did what you had to do. Of the two of us, you have always been the brave one. You and I grew up in a one bedroom house in Diepkloof. You, Sindiswa, you extended that house. Today, I have a flat outside the house, you have a bedroom, mom has a main bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and a walk-in closet, all our kids have their own bedrooms in their grandmother's house. You did that. You didn't leave the township for the suburbs and leave your family behind. You brought us up with you. Selfish people don't do what you did."

I am just...

"I don't know, Sandile. My decisions nje are not okay. My daughter is dead."

Now he is taken aback.

"Mbali passed away from Covid, not your decisions."

"I was running around with George and rich men in the middle of the pandemic and brought the Covid back to my child. I lost imbali yami just like that. I’m the one who should have died. Not her."

"Sindiswa, you need to stop doing this to yourself. Please dadewethu. She is gone. Let her rest and focus on Siya." He says.

He smiles at me.

"And then?"

"I want to marry Kgomotso".

"About damn time!"

We both laugh.

"So, I think let's prepare to go back and I can finally pop the question."

"We not taking Hoodrat with us."

He laughs.

"She will stay here. I will talk to the taxi people to use the house as an office space. She will clean the office spaces. We will hire another cleaner to help her. There will be two of them. Then we let the taxi people pay rent and we get money."

"Look at you. You are such a businessman. Where has this man been?" He honestly lives to impress me lately.

"It’s always been there. But you know that one pays for opportunity. Us being in the township and living in our parents' home is not because we are lazy, we just don't have money to buy the opportunities. So when you brought the money forward..."

"I'm sorry I didn't give you the money sooner, mfowethu."

He smiles at me and says, "You can make it up to me by laying off-"

“Not happening! You can stay mad. But Hoodrat yena, I’m toasting her every moment I get.”

“At least stop calling her Hoodrat.”

“Why? I don’t even remember her name. So Hoodrat it is.”

We both laugh aloud.

....

I took my two babies from the Eastern Cape kicking and screaming. My plan was to come back with Khetha (my two year old) and Simphiwe (my fourteen year old). Minenhle insisted that he wanted to come back with us, insisted that Unawe - my eldest - sold the house alone with whoever she was working with. They all didn't want to live in the Eastern Cape with their paternal relatives and Unawe has disappeared with a boyfriend. So I came back with my three.

Mr Msomi gave me a day off to sort out school things for all three, now I have two of my kids in school at Willowmoore High School and Khetha goes to a crèche close by here in Crystal Park. We have one car that I managed to buy - a Toyota Yaris. Minenhle is in matric and has a license. In the morning, we drop Khetha off at school, then they drop me off at work, then he drives himself and his brother to school because they are both at Willowmoore. I cannot control what they do when I'm at work, but they do what I need them to do and I'm fine with that. They make sure that Khetha is fetched from crèche and is fed, dinner is cooked by the time I get home because I take taxis back from work, and uniform has to be washed. I don't know where Unawe is and I don't care. For all I know, she is a prostitute somewhere. But my three boys bring me peace and I am happy.

I need to work towards a promotion or something. For now, Khetha sleeps with me in my room so my two boys share the other room. They love this. This is so much better than how we lived when we lived in Ndofaya. I think we are going to have a better life than what we did when my husband was around.

Right now, Sli and I are doing some administrative work that Mr Msomi has asked us to do. We need to wrap up the work and put it on PowerPoint for his sight. When he is happy and approves the work, he will send it to an agency to make it look nice. It is a 100 slide PowerPoint, so it is a lot of work. We have had to collect information from various managers. We mostly worked with the PAs, asking them to help us get the information from their managers. So this has been keeping us busy since this morning when we arrived.

"I'm taking a quick coffee break. Would you like a cup?" Sli asks me.

"No thanks. I'll just have a bottle of water." I say.

She nods her head and makes her way to get us drinks.

I check my phone. It is 3pm and I have missed calls from Simphiwe and Minenhle. I call them back on Minenhle's cell.

"Hello mama", he answers.

"Kunjani fana? Is everything okay?" I ask.

"Everything is fine, mama. I just wanted to let you know that we are home and everything is good. Khetha is sleeping right now, so Simphiwe and I are doing homework." He says.

My boys :-)

"That’s good, khehla lami. Thank you so much." I say.

"Mama, Unawe called."

I am quiet.

"Mah?"

"What does she want?"

"She wants to come and visit us. We've been chatting on WhatsApp and we told her that we live with you in Crystal Park now. I told her I'd ask you if you are okay with her coming to visit us."

Look, don't get me wrong, I'm glad she's alive. But what she did was unforgivable. But she's my child.

"Tell her to phone me and ask me. You and Simphiwe don't have a house. That house is mine. It's not even her father's house so she has no rights to sell it. Before she sets foot in my house, I want her to phone me and ask me." I say.

"Eish o'lady, I think she's in trouble." He says.

"She must phone me first. I don't want Unawe in my house until she has phoned me. Otherwise, she can go to the Eastern Cape where she ran off to in the first place."

"Okay mah. I'll see you later when you arrive."

"Shup".

"And then?" Thando says to me.

Eish, I should have taken that call in the boardroom. This open plan office setup is annoying when it comes here.

"Just my kids." I say.

"How are they doing?" Thando.

"They are okay."

"Miles was telling us that your eldest one should be in med school by now."

Why would Miles tell people that?

"Yeah. And I wanted to be an astronaut, yet here I am." I say.

"I take it she's not in med school? So what is she doing now?"

"Can I please finish my work?"

All eyes are on me.

Mrs Msomi walks in with food and greets everyone. This woman is so beautiful - yho. I can see why Mr Msomi remains sprung on her. And she's nice - she's not a cow.

"Has my man eaten?" She asks me and Sli.

The Ramarus are not back yet, so Mr Msomi has DOA for Mr Ramaru. He is our interim CEO. He is swamped with work and is constantly tired. He tries to still be himself, but shame, it's a lot.

"Nope. He has been locked up in his office all day. Luckily, he hasn't had any meetings today, so I suppose he got quite a bit done." Sli says.

"Okay, let me go in and see how I can help." She says.

Yes, she comes in sometimes and helps us. She leaves her business and does some of the work to ease the load for her husband. Some relationships are honestly goals yaz.

She walks into his office and we see them hug and kiss. Mr Msomi is so happy to see her. I'm sure if all of these executive offices were not glass, they'd have sex. But we can see everything and they can see everything. We notice that Thami and Harry are watching them through their offices as well. They sit down and eat. Mrs Msomi pulls out a laptop and sets up. Mr Msomi gives her some files and they eat while working together. I miss this. I miss being with someone and just being in love. I love being someone's partner. I think that's why I stayed in my marriage even when things were bad. I loved being his wife. I loved being his partner. I loved coming to his rescue when he needed me to. But I think I got stuck on giving in that marriage that I forgot to take care of myself. Now, he is gone and I'm doing so much better without him.

"Pilates tonight?" Sli asks me.

I shake my head. When have I ever gone to Pilates with them?

"You know you need a life right? Otherwise, you'll go back to that looney bin of yours again if you continue with how you lived. You can't keep doing the same thing then expect different results." Thando.

I just look at her.

"Okay, let's have a gym club ke. Just us ladies of the executives. I'll get my trainer to train us. I train at the Planet Fitness in Boksburg. Let's get the asses tight and the waists non-existent. There's no need for us to look like our problems. We will still have Pilates on Wednesdays, then let's do something else on another day in the week, then boot camp on Saturdays." Sandra says. She is Harry's PA.

"Can we find something else to do that's fun, but not gym related? Not all of us are gym obsessed." Tumi says, she is Thami's PA.

Silence.

"Where is Zinzi?" I ask because Im done with this conversation. Zinzi is Mr Ramaru's PA.

"Wasn't she fired?" Sandra says.

"She's probably on leave while Tom and Elle are still away." Thando says.

"Njani guys? I don't understand. Porsh and I are doing her job on top of our jobs because Mr Msomi has taken on some of Mr Ramaru's work too." Sli says.

"Well, it's good practice for Porsh seeing that she might be Mr Ramaru's PA one of these days." Thando sarcastically says.

Silence.

I put on my headsets and listen to music as I continue with my work.

We knock off at 7pm and Sli offers to take me home.

...

It is Saturday today, so my two elder boys are awake and are studying. They've been up since 6am. I am doing laundry and cleaning the house. We all finish up at 11am and I tell the boys to shower. Khetha is up now as well, so I bath him then I bath when Khetha is done. When we are done, I take my boys out. We haven't done something this exciting in a long time. We go to the Soweto towers. My two brave boys did the bungee jumping. I stayed away and my excuse was staying with Khetha while they went up. Minenhle is feeling sick after that bungee jumping. We keep giving him soda water to settle his system. Shame man.

"We would do quad-biking, but shame, Minenhle is not okay." I say.

"No mama, I'll stay with Khetha. You go with Simphiwe and do the quad bikes. It's my turn to sit with Khetha and take pictures." Minenhle says.

Indeed, Simphiwe and I do the quad bikes. We have a lot of fun. Afterwards, all four of us take some pictures then go to Vilakazi street for a late lunch/early dinner.

It is vibey here and I love being here with my boys.

"Mom, we are so happy that you are back and are well. We didn't enjoy the Eastern Cape. We are very happy that you came back for us." Simphiwe says.

"I just needed to get better. I was always going to come back for you guys. You are my children." I say.

"We know, mommy. We just want you to know that we appreciate you and we love you." Simphiwe says.

I smile at them.

"We hope that you will forgive Unawe." Minenhle says.

I look at them.

"She is really sorry, mah." Simphiwe says.

"She hasn't said anything to me." I say.

"If she does, will you forgive her?" Minenhle.

"If she means it, yes." I say.

He nods his head.

"Will she then come and live with us?" Simphiwe says.

"I don't know. Unawe and I just need to talk. I think once we have spoken, we will be in a position to understand what happens next. And I don't want to rush her. She has to be ready because it will be a difficult conversation. So when you talk to her, tell her that I am ready to talk to her, so she can tell me when she is ready. I'm here. But she's not coming into my house until we have spoken." I say.

Both Simphiwe and Minenhle nod their head and eat their food. The night is concluded with me driving my boys and I back home. Simphiwe is passed out next to me on the passenger seat. The reason he is sitting here was to stay up with me as we drive back home. Epic fail. Minenhle is passed out in the backseat and Khetha is fast asleep in his car seat at the back as well. I play music through my Bluetooth from my phone to drive me home.

[skywailer]

Hi! For your Harry Potter caffeinated thing: My favorite songs right now are Sorry by Halsey and Longest night by Howie day (which I've been learning on the ukulele). I got a ukulele for Christmas this year. I used to play the cello when I was younger and I still think it's the most beautiful instrument ever. I love chocolate. I'm the youngest sibling and have an older brother and sister. We have two cats. I study biology. Ummm... I think that's it. Oh also I plan on dyeing my hair pink. Thanks!

!!!! Have you dyed your hair yet?  Digging the pink hair vibes !!!!  Sorry for the wait, here you go!

- how you got your Hogwarts acceptance letter: you’d been waiting at the window for some time now; headphones on, a song playing in your head and your fingers pressing notes into the palm of your hand- nervous.  You’d done this twice before, when your brother and your sister had gotten their letters- you more excited than even they for their own invitation to the world you longed to see.  The world of your parents.  Not yours, not yet.  You glanced back at your grandparents, sitting in the living room as they always did with the tellie on; muggles still so unsure of the wizarding world to really know what to do on this day- even when they’d gone through this twice before with your siblings, and once before that with your mother: a muggleborn witch.  As your father was.  Both had passed away during the first war, and so the wizarding world only had the faintest of imprints in your head- the glimmer of a charmed mobile above your crib, the heavy wand you once grabbed from your father as a babe- maybe, or was that a dream?  You were never sure.  Your siblings had experienced more, but that had been both a gift and a curse for them.  They’d told you stories, as had your grandparents- but now you were 12, and ready to be a part of the story.  No more half-adventures that stopped 9 and ¾ of the way at Kings Cross.  It was your turn.  Or so you hoped.  So, you waited at the window, and stared out into the mundane street with all the mundane cars and driveways.  And then there was a not-so-mundane shadow in the sky- with great wings and beak holding something dear and important to you.  Giddy, you called back to your grandparents and tore open the window, arms stretched out as the owl swooped low and landed on your arm with a hard, secure grip.  Even though its hold didn’t last long before the owl was off again, letter delivered onto your palm, you felt that owl’s talons on your arm every day until you arrived at Kings Cross.  As though it were holding you, guiding you, into your story.  At last.

- head canons about your trip on the Hogwarts Express: Finally, you made it past that inconspicuous column, onto the platform for the Hogwarts Express.  And finally, finally, you weren’t waving from outside the train, but from inside.  Your grandparents, like twice before and once before that, blew kisses goodbye to you and your siblings; loving and supporting, even if they honestly had no clue how to approach magic- just how to approach this train.  When the train began to move, and you’d settled into your seat beside your siblings, who were already paired off with friends they’d met while you were waiting for this life to begin- you became restless.  Again a song played in your head, fingers strumming notes and pressing encouragement into your palm.  You got the nerve to stand up and leave the cabin, in search of your own friends, ones you knew were out there but had yet to meet.  Your search stopped three cabins down, when you heard a clatter and a giant black case tumbled out into the corridor- in the shape of a base.  There’s a shrill cry of despair and someone flooded out into the corridor with it, as though they were flinging themselves overboard to save a lost soul.  You spent the rest of the ride arguing with this someone about whether the base or cello was “the most beautiful instrument ever”.  Neither of you won the argument, but won a friendship instead.

- what happened when you went head-to-head hat with the sorting hat: your siblings had both gone to the same house in years past, but you didn’t let their sorting, or your parents’, influence where you were to belong.  And you wanted to belong, and already knew where, from the stories your grandparents had told of your mom and dad’s adventures at Hogwarts as well as from the letters your siblings sent home, attempting to paint for you the most accurate picture possible of your soon-to-be home.  You were patient when waiting for your name to be called, and calm as you sat down- even though your stomach did a flop or two inside when the hat touched down.  You closed your eyes and pictured what you loved most: warm, yellow sunlight, bits of chocolate atop a pile of family photos - still images mixed in with moving smiles and kisses - the purr of cats and tickling whiskers on your cheek, the friend you made and the friends yet to make.  You saw these images and grinned, and barely missed it when the name came- “Hufflepuff!”  The friends you’d make soon enough cheered and rooted your name into their hearts.  Your story was unfolding, in shades of yellow and black.

- who’s your squad: you made quick friends of everyone in the Hufflepuff dorm, including Hannah Abbot, but friendships wouldn’t stop there.  How could it?  You’d been starving for this world for so long, and heard so much about it from other’s tales, that you wanted to know first-hand as many people as you could.  By the end of the year, you were almost always seen with Neville, admiring and discussing nature, as well as Luna and a few other Ravenclaws who shared your love of music and hungry curiosity.  At times, you were even spotted with Draco Malfoy and a few Slytherins, who took an interest in the cello you brought to school (but not so much the ukulele; that was something Luna adored). 

- general first-year shenanigans you were up to while Harry was being Harry:

the first night at Hogwarts, you couldn’t sleep a wink, and ended up roaming the halls (even though it was past curfew) and stumbled upon old photos of your mom, who’d played quidditch in her day, and your dad- the scholar accepting an award from Dumbledore. 

You were found asleep in the hall, in front of that display by your friend from the train.  After getting a little help, he and your siblings carried you back to the dorm.

Your cat is known to be a little intrusive and has, often, barged into your class to deliver a dead mouse to your desk.  Sometimes, she delivers something you’d actually like: like chocolate.

once you got so nervous during a class that your fidgeting sent your quill flying across the room.  It struck through Professor McGonagall’s hat like a spear.

Draco heckled that you should’ve gotten your house points for sportsmanship.

You were lucky not to get a detention.

Instead, McGonagall advised you focus more on note-taking, and less on target practice. 

You were approached by the Hufflepuff quidditch captain later that day.  But you shot down the offer, mortified. 

When the weather was nice out, you enjoyed taking a stroll down to the lake and practicing the ukulele away from questioning gazes.  Sometimes, a wild Luna would appear and sometimes you’d give her lessons.

In exchange, she promised to dye your hair pink by the end of the winter term (so you’d be ready for spring).  

It… didn’t exactly go as planned.

It took three Hufflepuffs, four Ravenclaws, and one annoying Slytherin heckling you, to finally get your hair from a sewage green to the pink you’d been wanting.

To atone, Luna worked with Hermione to dig up some information about your parents and presented you with a handmade yearbook of their time at Hogwarts.

You’d already forgiven her, but you forgave her again.

By the end of the year, you’d assembled a group of musicians to play with, and petitioned the school for more extracurricular activities involving the arts.  

By the end of the year, you’d held a concert for the school, and participated in an inter-house talent show.

By the end of the year, you felt like your story was pouring out of the pages- and it had only just begun...

...But you had totally forgotten to tell your grandparents about your hair.

[gentlespaceman-blog]

Patience Pays - Hannah & Dylan - Bowling Green Kentucky Wedding Videography by Creek Films

Patience Pays - Hannah & Dylan - Bowling Green Kentucky Wedding Videography by Creek Films

the side straps like this opportunity and I have just run all the way that close your store and she's like help us to always know that without you we can you can get through anything with you can do anything and everything we just ask them once again here discipline so Cindy with this throughout it was and help us to always reflect your glory and grace is in your son Jesus name we pray never been so sure cross the school hey gonna live my life to keep the promises in the early mistakes I knew somehow that was just like love ya found a heart that was just like mine out a little bit it's the kind of love I'm a Cuban under winn-dixie oh nothing so sure me go to keep promises mistakes I know I'm and everything look like that is the cow changed I distinctly remember the first time I heard about this mysterious von boy it would captured Hannah's attention it was during 8th grade Hannah walked into home run one homeroom one morning and you could tell she was eager to tell me something before I even had a chance to ask how she was doing she blurted out Sonia I just saw the cutest guy in soccer practice last night he was running shirtless what she failed to mention was that he had highlights that resemble Justin Timberlake circa nineteen ninety nine it's funny looking back but I feel so lucky to have witnessed still in Hannah's relationship unfold you could tell from the very beginning they were perfect for each other their relationship was and continues to be effortless exactly how it should be you I found the heart that was just like mom yeah he makes me laugh and he lets me cry it was about 8 years 9 months three days ago when this amazing relationship started so after school one day these two were online and instant messaging each other which some of you might know what that is and the lovely Hannah texted him and said or instant message and said are we dating or what and Dylan's response was no do you want to be and of course as you can tell she said yes thankfully just stand by your side treasure of my life just disbanded by side I know and Wow can you believe that the day we've dreamed up for over five years is finally here it seems like just yesterday we were standing my dad's office parking lot well we were both still in high school longing for this day to get here but realizing it was still so far away for the past eight years and eight months we've literally walked through together as best friends we've laughed we've cried we've argued but above everything else we vote it's crazy to think that we literally started dating when you were just barely a teenager at the age of 13 while I was only 14 just look at the two of us now at 21 and 22 years of age we were just kids back then struck with a helpless case of puppy love me with my long shaggy hair and highlights and you with your skinny jeans and turtlenecks when a long way we've come from those days we walked through so many stages of life together it's hard for me to remember what life was even like before we started dating...

See more here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=puGuOKh2g9I

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