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monstas1ut2 · 3 years

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1/3 (Eren Yeager)

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Bitches is my sons, that's why I be like, "Chile"

Chile, chile, chile, chile, ch-i-i-i-chile

At the lowest volume, Nicki was spitting bars. The LED lights on the brightest red there's to come as the window was covered with black out curtains. It happened to be bright outside but who opens their curtains at 8 am in the morning..? People who are productive and that's not you.

"Don't spend hours in there, brat."

A pout came onto your face, almost sucking your teeth... it wasn't going to be long until you were finished. Nonetheless though, your father always thinks you take hours to get ready to go somewhere.

"Im not ,daddy... Ion even wear makeup no more.. so it won't take long.."

Leaning towards the mirror, and pressing the lipgloss tip against your soft lips, your thoughts came around to your father.

Levi Ackerman, he's a short male who is quite intimidating, he IS intimidating. Despite his height, he's always winning a battle, whether it's verbal or physical. Which is why you always fail to win an argument against him. This was noticeable when you moved to his house ten months ago.

Before living with Levi, you were living with Hange.

Hange co-parents with Levi, the two were never together but they kept you happy and they are both Mom and Dad to you. The two are so different though. Hange would let you skip school, get ready late, almost everything in the book. She had to stop you from getting a sugar daddy though-

Levi is strict, he doesn't want anyone or thing touching his pretty Princess. Yes you're not biologically his but he still is your father, the only one you'd ever had. He taught you things, showed you the great life. He tried to get you to speak a bit more proper but he just stopped, oddly enough, he wanted you to embrace everything you had to offer.

It was a pain learning about your background, Hange was bad at doing anything for you as well. In result of this, your hair has dreads. Watching YouTube videos was Levi's new thing when you were younger. He managed to skillfully put dreads in your hair and... now they look quite amazing. Very long and pretty on you.

That's something you embrace, those pretty dreads. Knowing that your father put them in first , is one reason as to never take them out.

"I'm done, and, Mom said stop ignorin her... she wanna have a picture of me.. since it's my last year I guess.. ion know.. but she blowin up my phone.."

A bit of a smile casting on your brown skinned face. Fiddling with the phone in your hand. Today you were wearing a Jean like skirt and a black top to go with. Your med-long nails being a mix of white and gold, it complimented the melanin of your skin.

Levi glared at his phone that was vibrating on the nearest table and he'd sighed inwardly. Hange was so excited for your last year, while Levi was not. He also hates the fact that you are now going to the same school that he works at... the only bad thing being... the men there are complete perverts and prudes.

"Tell that bratty friend of yours to do it-"

"Connie isn't a brat, he just a lil mental..."

A lot of bald guys seemed to be mental, or is that just... stereotypical to say? Eh, either way, your Connie was mental. The guy was hilarious, he always knows how to put a smile on your face. Even though you two used to be fairly seperated. You now go to his school so at least you'll have one friend to lean on.

"dad, can you at least be happy for me...? It's my last year of school, not my last year of me bein in ya house.. cuz ion know how to cook... or do adult stuff.." a sheepish smile came upon your face, just staring at your father who happened to be suppressing a smile. He eventually did not though, but... you are the only person who can make him smile..

"I know, you burned down a kitchen before.." An evil smirk cascaded on his pale face. He knew that would hit you where it hurts, considering you were now silent but squinting your eyes playfully. It definitely wasn't Levi's kitchen, it was Hange's kitchen.. she had to get it remodeled.

Honestly, Levi liked that you couldn't cook, that way, douche bag men will stay away from you and it'll prevent them from making you barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen... he overthinks okay?

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Gripping your wrist ever so tightly, the two of you were walking towards the huge school. It was more of a modern taste, probably because the school was built only 6 years ago. The scale of the school had caused your body to overheat from anxiety. So actually, Levi was pulling you towards the school, no effort needed.

Once that door was open, it was all over. The main entrance had a pretty scenery. It was pictures and everything, though something that was odd was that black people were limited, looked like-

Okay okay, you're overthinking, but this school really doesn't have black people. If they do, they are in sports... which is why there was a man constantly talking on and on about female's basketball team...

You have to admit, you are a stallion.

"She doesn't want to be on the team... Shadis... stop yelling in her face.."

A bit of a concerned smile came upon your face as you glanced towards your father. Who only gave a soft look towards you. Levi may be insensitive at times but when it comes to you being nervous.. he's there.

"Where the hell is the principle..." Levi grumbled under his breath, he was quite late for his class.. but he had to make sure you were going to be fine.. like the worried father he is.

And Like on cue, a fine.. smexy blonde man came from the back door of the front office.. oooh.

His eyebrows were thick and he had this smile on his face. Like he knew who you were, though at the same time he probably already did. This man was in pictures at home, Levi knew him personally.

Apparently this man changed your diaper when you were little too.. so.. low chance of him seeing you any different..

Principal Smith... oohhh

"Levi, I told you yesterday, she'll be fine in my hands.. I can make sure she gets to every class. I'll also make sure nobody messes with her.." Erwin hummed out, knowing these words that came from Levi last week. His voice was deep and sincere, his pretty blue eyes glancing you over.. gawd oh mighty.

"And?" Levi's eyes squinted hard, his face quite serious about the last statement that Erwin seemed to pass by... or forgotten.. Man, someone would think Levi is the principal... and not Erwin.

"I'll make sure Yeager stays away from her.."

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The bell had rung oh so suddenly, the anxiety in you causing you to need to go to the bathroom but... your ancestors had to come down.

They whispered into your ear and explained that you are the baddest bitch in the world. Nobody can take that away from you, nor can the stupid anxiety.

"This is my daughter, (Y/n)... "

The baddest bitch with anxiety...

Every single eye was on you, in front of the class... it was obvious that most were just curious about you, mixed with shocked. When they heard the other day about getting a new student, they figured that it'll be someone... like them. At the same time though.. they could get used to the.. balance of the room.

The window across the room was beaming on your brown skin and it happened to make you look like a goddess. Your lipgloss sparkling as you glanced around, a soft smile on your face. Honestly, that only happened because of the fact that.. your bald friend was waving to you..

Connie...

The other day, a deal was made... Between you and your father. Who is also now your teacher for first period.

The deal was, you clean your room spotless and you get to sit next to Connie in class. Guess who succeeded?...

Your arms wrapped around male as he was blushing a tad. Being almost manhandled by you was everyone's dream at the moment. Especially a male who was behind you and Connie's table. He had this cool haircut, his face was long too but it fit his features.

"Why is she hugging the egg..."

"Jean you're just jealous.." the person who said this happened to be playing with their pencil. She had black hair and.. freckles.. it was cute. She looked mean though.

"Okay and..?"

Connie then began to of course, show off his best friend.. who happened to be you. Apparently what happened was that he told everyone about you one day. Nobody believed him, and Jean being the asshole he is.., he wanted answers so he -reluctantly- asked Levi if he had a daughter...

They weren't expecting someone like you...

Nor was.. this brown haired male who had his eye on you ever since you came in. His intimidating... blue, greenish looking eyes.. it's not something you failed to realize... but at the same time, you could feel your father's eyes as well.

"That's Eren over there, by Armin and Mikasa... he's a little coo-coo... so just talk to Armin and Mikasa.. then that's Bert , Annie, and Reiner, and Ymir, Jean, Sasha is the one eating and Historia.."

Honestly, you were never one to listen to someone when they say don't do something... Connie said don't talk to Eren... but some how... with the fluttering of your eyelashes.. you gave the long haired boy a wink. The wink sending him a burst of confidence that he already had..

it just got worse..

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

#black reader #poc reader #eren x black reader #three part #aot imagines #aot x black reader

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tedisnotdead · 3 years

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The water flow stopped, and Andrew sighed, picking up the towel. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes scanning across the plain chest and stopping before his view reached his elbows.

"Andrew?" a voice called from the other side of the door, startling him. Andrew took a quick breath, closing his eyes before sighing, reminding himself of where he was. Renee's bathroom. Allison was downstairs, probably preparing baby Seth to stand in the crowd with her. "Nicky just left me your clothes. Do you want me to leave them in the spare room for you?"

"Yess." Andrew replied, looking down and pulling his boxers on. "I'll be out in a second." He reached for the armbands, pulling them on and tucking his thumb into the holes before walking out.

Betsy, Nicky and Erik were changing at home. They didn't need the preparation like the twins did, they wouldn't get picked. Jesse was safe too, wrapped up between his dads but next year he wouldn't. Next year he would be up there, and Andrew couldn't save him. Andrew had already felt the guilt of the six years he missed protecting his cousin and the four years he missed with his brother.

When they were united two years ago, it was a shock to everyone around them. Andrew had been in Betsy's care his entire life before then, with help from Renee for a few years during his more rebellious phase. When Renee started her fighting lessons twelve years ago, he was one of the firsts to sign up. Eight years after Andrew signed up, another Andrew signed up. Renee knew it wasn't him. And she mentioned it to Betsy, who connected the fourteen-year olds and since took them both in, alongside their cousin. A year later, Nicky introduced his boyfriend and his son to the family, and they were welcomed with open arms.

Betsy took two-week-old Andrew in from the day she saw him left on the side of the work field, wrapped in only a blanket. She took him home, where eight-year-old Renee was waiting. She hadn't been ditched like Andrew, she has been unfortunately orphaned by a factory malfunction and lost her mother at only six.

Renee and Andrew grew up alongside each other, but when she left for the games at age thirteen, they knew they would never be the same. Renee came back a victor, that's when she started her fighting lessons. Betsy advised against it but saw her development and let her work. When Andrew questioned her why she let her fight after she had won, Betsy reminded him Renee had won for a reason.

That's when he met Wymack. David Wymack, the winner of the forty-third Hunger Games. David Wymack, the man who relied on the pain of tattoos to give him a mental escape from the pain that the Games had caused him. The same David Wymack who took Jean Moreau out of Betsy's care less than a week after she took him in.

"Just because Jean was taken in by the Wymacks, it doesn't mean that you're not wanted." Betsy would always say. She would say the same thing every time she took one kid into her home and then they were taken in by a family a few days after. "You are just as valid. You are just as special. You just need to wait for your special time to shine."

Eight years passed and Aaron appeared. They united, Nicky was introduced, and Betsy took them all in. Betsy introduced them to Wymack, who introduced them to his kids and the Boyds. Befriending the entire of the Victors Village was a kick in the guts to Andrew. A reminder how he wasn't special, how he was basically nothing in comparison to some people.

Jean remembered him though. Jean made him feel special way. Not a romantic or sexual thing. Andrew knew those. Well, he knew sexual. He knew from all the hook-ups behind the factories, he knew from the nights he stayed at Roland's, a classmate in Renee's fighting class, and experimented with things. He knew from the start he was gay, but never said it out loud. He wasn't too confident when it came to romantic feelings however, but he had an idea.

Jean Moreau-Wymack was his first and only friend. Renee accepted this, seeing how they're bond was more sibling like than friends. Jean joined him on the tree searched. Andrew taught him to climb quick, how to spot the nests quickly, how to remove both wasp and birds safely. In return, Jean baked him sweet goods. The banana breads and cakes and muffins rolled through the door daily, Jean delivering them every morning with a small smile. Occasionally, Jean would bake with exotic flavors that David Wymack brought back from his annual visits to the Capitol.

With all the time Andrew had started spending Jean, Aaron began spending it with the other child in the Wymack household. Kevin Wymack-Day. David's biological child from a woman he didn't meet again after their one-night stand.

When Kayleigh, Kevin's mother, passed Kevin had been put in the custody of David. Jean, Kayleigh's other child, had been given to Betsy to be cared for. David hunted him down and took him in, not having the heart to separate the kids.

Aaron and Kevin clicked the second they met. Both being insufferable, obsessive assholes in Andrew's opinion (and Jean's, but that was one of the secrets between the two that were shared in the tops of trees over a muffin each). Aaron's obsession laying in the profession of David's wife, Abby Wymack. One of the best doctors in District 7. Since Aaron became closer with her, he became more obsessed over the profession and soon, if he survived the final reaping, would become her apprentice. Kevin's obsession laid in a Capitol sport, Exy. Whenever his father visited the Capitol for the games, he would bring back his son merchandise of his favorite teams. David had a friend in the Capitol who recorded every game so he could take them home and Kevin could watch them.

Andrew reached the spare room and froze before remembering where he was. Renee's house. Aaron was at the Wymacks', using their shower like Andrew was using Renee's. He knew the only reason was to see Kevin, and 'secretly' say goodbye and good luck in their own special way.

Their attraction to each other was not unknown, practically everyone knew. But it was obvious they were waiting until Aaron's last reaping, until today, to make anything exclusive. As long as they snuck out of the Victors Village before anyone began to head to the town center, no one would notice the luxurious treatment the twins were getting.

The clothes were spread out, waiting on the spare room bed. Nicky's old black, short sleeved button up shirt and a pair of Erik's old, tight fit, wash jeans. A pair of old boots that Betsy had managed to afford where on the floor, with a pair of Allison's bright pink socks laying neatly in the neck of the boot.

"You'll need to be ready in a few minutes Andrew." Renee's voice filtered through the door again. "The ceremony starts in an hour. People begin to move soon." Her footsteps echoed down the corridor as she left and Andrew looked at the clothes, sighing.

◒◓◒◓◒

Andrew stepped out, seeing Kevin and Aaron talking through a gap in the curtains. He sat back, waiting silently and watched them argue.

"They're horrible." Jean mumbled, sitting next to Andrew on the wall, leaving a large enough space for Capitol's largest man to sit between them. "Kevin kicked me out so I couldn't hear. I think they're talking about their latest hook-up." He took a bite from a muffin, leaving one on the wall beside Andrew. "It was at ours while we were climbing. I think they think we're fucking."

"How disappointed will they be when they find out we don't fuck; we talk shit about them and stuff our faces with shit." Andrew mumbled and Jean giggled, taking another bite. "Truth for a truth?" Jean nodded. "I'm nervous."

"That's well justified." Jean said. "Your name is at the highest chance it's ever been, and ever will be. But some people do sadly have their names in there more than you. So, the chance it being you is low. And the chance it's Aaron is even lower, since your name is still in there from the past years of tesserae. "Jean sighed. "I'm gay. I think." Jean mumbled before looking over.

"Want another round?" Andrew asked and Jean stopped before nodding. He took another bite of his muffin, looking forward again. "I'm gay too." Andrew said, picking his muffin up. "I've known for a few years."

"I have a crush on Jeremy." Jean said. Andrew turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "The baker's son. I used to talk to him a lot when I lived with Kayleigh. She would let me pick up her weekly orders from the bakery and I would pay them with grain and milk. I used to talk to Jeremy every Sunday, and that's why I like baking. Because I like Jeremy. "

Andrew looked back through the window, seeing them still talking. Aaron seemed more angry than usual during their 'conversations'. "You should offer to work there." Andrew suggested. "You could see him more."

Jean laughed, looking down before taking the final bite. "I could, but who would you hang out with then? You haven't got any other friends." "I have Jesse." Andrew said, taking a bite. "This is good. What flavor is it?"

"It's another new one from the Capitol called Palmetto. It's basically a super sweet blood orange." Jean said. "And Jesse doesn't count. He's got school you know."

"I'll teach him then." Andrew argued, his eyes following Jean as the older boy got up and started pacing. "I remember all my lessons. I could teach him with no struggle." Jean snorted, looking up. "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

"Kicked out remember?" Jean mumbled, looking back at Andrew. Andrew shrugged, taking another bite from his muffin and Jean laughed. "I should. Aaron seems to be done in the shower, so if I go straight up Kev probably won't care." Andrew nodded, taking another bite quickly. "I need to, don't I?" Andrew nodded again. "I'll see you after. Good luck Andrew." Jean turned to walk back.

"Jean." Andrew said and he stopped, turning. "If I get picked, don't be nervous to say goodbye."

Jean knew that was Andrew asking him to come. But Andrew didn't like asking. Andrew didn't want to ask, say the word please. It wasn't how Andrew worked, and Jean knew that. He never questioned why, but he knew that. He never pressed any questions when it came to Andrew, because Andrew never did the same to him. He never questioned the scars on his cheek or the roughness of his hands or the burn marks that Jean turned up with.

"I will." Jean said, smiling gently. "I hope you enjoyed the muffin! If I do need to visit you, I'll bring one along. A parting gift." He laughed before walking inside.

Andrew watched the door for a few seconds after it closed before moving his glance to the gap in the curtains. Their argument went on for a few more minutes until Aaron looked out the window. Andrew raised an eyebrow and Aaron sighed, turning back to Kevin and saying something before leaving.

"Trouble in paradise?" Andrew muttered when Aaron reached his side.

"Shut up." Aaron muttered, already towards the village entrance.

He was dressed in a tight red shirt, it looked like Kevin's with the way it was too tight around his waist but loose around the arms, and a pair of trousers which were too torn to belong to a victor, and the style choice only pointed to Nicky. Too tight around the thighs with baggy bottoms. Just how Erik liked it.

"He just wanted to wish me good luck and I wanted to thank him, or tell him to thank his dad, for letting me use their shower."

"Wish you good luck with a massive smooch." Andrew said, walking after him.

"As if you and Jean weren't doing the same." Aaron muttered, scowling at him.

"Jean was actually just telling me about his crush. I got a name and everything. It was glorious." Andrew said. As Aaron went to ask, Andrew continued, "But I will not be saying anything about the mystery person. It was in our game, and I never tell secrets from our game."

"You're stupid shitty 'Truth for a truth' game?" Aaron asked and Andrew nodded. "I don't know why you two play that. It's not even a game, its talking. Like normal people do. You and Jean are weird."

"I think Jean is smarter than you when it comes to most things." Andrew mumbled, pushing the gate at the end of the pathway open. Nicky looked up through the window, smiling when he saw the twins. "If him being weird is the consequence of that, I don't think he minds.

"Fucking weirdo." Aaron muttered, pushing past. Nicky immediately fussed over him, asking where the shirt he left out was. Erik moved closer to Andrew, holding Jesse in his arms.

"I have missed you." Erik said.

"Jesse." Andrew called and the young boy looked over. "Want to hug?" Jesse nodded excitedly. Erik squatted down, letting Jesse run over. But just before he reached Andrew, he slowed down and then calmly wrapped his arms around Andrew's waist. "Oh Andrew, you look amazing." Nicky whispered. "I wish Betsy could see you before the ceremony, but she's already gone to get the other kids ready." He stood up, smiling. "You both look amazing. And we are going to get through this, and we are going to come home and be calm and happy."

His smile faltered for a second, but he plastered it back on before Aaron could notice. Erik and Andrew did, but both decided to stay quiet, knowing he was trying his hardest.

"Andrew, are you sure you don't want to move to a factory job with me and Aaron? You could watch the games."

"I'm fine being a clearer." Andrew mumbled. "I get good pay and I only have to talk to Jean. I see no flaws."

"But you can't watch the games." Nicky said.

"Erik doesn't like to watch the games. Neither do I." Andrew said, looking down at Jesse, who had buried his face in Andrew's side. "I am happy getting the updates from you over dinner."

Nicky went to say something, but Erik stepped forward and whispered into his ear. Nicky sighed, looking at him. Erik pecked his lips softly.

"We should get going, though," Andrew said, pushing Jesse back lightly and holding his hand out. Jesse smiled widely, taking his hand and holding tightly, as if his life depended on it.

The walk to the town center was mostly fully of Nicky's nervous rambling, with Erik and Aaron occasionally responding. But Andrew ignored them and chose to focus on the small tune Jesse was humming, squeezing his hand along to the beat.

When they reached the town center, Erik picked Jesse back up. Jesse waved to Andrew sadly before his dad carried him off, holding Nicky's hand. They passed the peacekeepers and stood in the crowd beside Jean and Kevin. Andrew took off down the silent path, leading them to the identification tables.

He could see over the peacekeepers' shoulders, David, Matt and Renee lined up along the back of the stage, with their escort, Kathy Ferdinand, standing in front of them. She was talking animatedly to them, with her big blonde hair and eyes practically painted with pink. The skin-tight pink leather dress clung to her to an uncomfortably revealing extent where Andrew had to look away.

"Next." The peacekeeper said and Andrew looked up, seeing Aaron's whole-body flinch. "Go through. Next."

Andrew stepped forward, holding his hand forward. The peacekeeper grabbed his wrist roughly, tugging it forward and pricking the end of his finger. They then pressed it to the paper, scanned it and let him through.

Andrew rushed through, pushing through all the crowds to find his brother. Aaron was waiting nervously, wringing his wrists. Andrew pushed through the crowd until he ended up besides his brother, waiting silently.

"What if we get picked?" Aaron whispered, looking at his brother. Andrew shrugged, keeping his eyes focused on the stage. "Andrew I'm serious." he said before his voice was drowned out by Kathy tapping the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome." she said, smiling at everyone.

The neon yellow contacts she wore made everyone unsettled, but she continued, her cat-like eyes scanning the crowd.

"Welcome to the fifty seventh Hunger Games. May the odds be ever in your favor." She smirked, looking across to the group of people who weren't being reaped, taunting them. "Now, the time has come for us to select one courageous young man and women for the honor of representing district seven in this year's Hunger Games." She stopped for a second, smiling. "As usual, ladies first."

She shuffled across the stage in her overly tight dress and waved her hand over the bowl. A hand skimmed Andrew's wrist and he looked down, seeing Aaron's beside his, the knuckles brushing the black cloth. Andrew slid his hand into his brothers as Kathy waddled back to the microphone.

"Marissa Goodman." Kathy read out, looking across the crowd. People were stepped aside two sections before the twins.

Sixteen years old, Andrew told himself. The girl stepped forward, dressed in a light green dress which skimmed her knees and her hair tied into a tight ponytail.

"Come on up dear, don't be afraid." Four peacekeepers surrounded her, leading her up to the stage. Marissa slowly walked up, and Kathy enthusiastically welcomed her. "And now the boys."

Aaron's grip tightened on his hand as she reached the glass bowl. Kathy smiled, waving her hand around the top before diving in and pulling out one white slip. She slowly shuffled back to the microphone and leant close, undoing the slip slowly. She smirked before reading, "Aaron Michael Minyard."

"I volunteer as tribute." Andrew looked down before he even had acknowledged the words come out of his mouth. He looked back up, seeing everyone staring at him. Aaron was looking at him with tearful eyes.

"Not Andrew." he whispered, but Andrew pushed past. "No. Andrew stop!" he shouted, following him through. Andrew took his place in between the peacekeepers but was dragged back violently. "I won't let you do this." Aaron shouted.

"I volunteer." Andrew repeated, making direct eye contact with Aaron. Aaron shook his head, his mouth opening and closing until the first tear rolled down his cheek and his grip on Andrew's arm loosened.

Aaron was pulled back quickly, and Andrew recognized the hand around his twin's shoulders immediately. Jean pulled Aaron back, avoiding Andrew's eye. Andrew turned around and followed the peacekeepers down the aisle. Renee was staring at him, shocked, from the back of the stage. Matt's eyes were filled with tears, while Wymack's jaw was clenched.

Andrew didn't remember as far back as to when he was four, but he knew Wymack's story.

Wymack had trained as hard as he could after losing a close friend to the games when he was twelve. When David turned eighteen, he volunteered himself before the name was even called out. His reasoning was to save one more helpless kid from being killed in his district. This caused him to become a fan favorite in the Capitol, and a respected citizen in the district. In every shop, I have had a discount. Everyone smiled at him in the streets. Everyone welcomed him into their homes and invited him round for dinner.

Every year, when the victors returned, all three of the victors visited the houses of the fallen tributes to mourn with them for one night. They supplied the family with the food for the night and left them all the leftovers. It was a tradition started by Wymack, but when Renee won the forty-fourth Hunger Games, she joined in. And when Matt won the fifty-first Hunger Games, he became the final part of the trio.

Andrew was snapped out of his thoughts when he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the stage. He made eye contact with Renee, who smiled gently at him. He sighed before walking up.

"A volunteer!" Kathy cried, holding her hand out to showcase Andrew's arrival. "Now, what's your name young man?"

"Andrew Joseph Minyard." Andrew said, looking forward.

Jean was finally looking at him, his face contorted with fear. Nicky was beside him, crying into Erik's shoulder. Erik was staring at Andrew in fear while Jesse sobbed, bundled in Betsy's arms. Aaron was crying, while being held back by Kevin.

"Oh, and was that your brother I picked?" Kathy asked, smiling widely.

"Yes, my twin brother." Andrew answered, trying to keep his voice monotone.

"How lovely." Kathy said before turning to the crowd again. "Here we are. Our tributes from district seven!" She started clapping, but everyone stayed silent.

Jean brought three fingers up to his lips before raising them above his head. Slowly, everyone around him began to do the same, the gesture spreading among the crowd. A single tear rolled down Jean's scarred cheek and Andrew took a deep breath before bringing three fingers to his own lips then raising them above his head.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Kathy cried, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

They turned away, Kathy leading them both to the door at the back. Andrew flinched away from her touch, overtaking Marissa and pushing himself into the corridor.

"Andrew." Renee said, walking up to him.

"Not." Andrew spat out through gritted teeth.

He would not let himself cry; he would not let himself cry.

"We can talk on the train. I want to say goodbye to them."

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jemej3m · 4 years

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Listen bud, hunger games au, Andrews the mockingjay, Neil’s been captured by his dad aka the game maker

if you’re looking for an extended hunger games au @gluupor‘s on ao3 is my all-time favourite, but here’s a oneshot (are oneshots all i know how to do??)

Andrew doesn’t want to be here. The whole place is writhing with death and misery, but there’s a whole camera crew asking him to interact with these people, these men and women and children who are fighting and dying for an idealistic cause.

Andrew is not an empathetic person. Kevin says that doesn’t matter. Just the sight of him, with his Mockingjay pin, will be enough to inspire hope.

At least he’s here, shepherding Andrew around, doing all the talking. Nicky’s being all amicable too, crouched by overcrowded beds and talking nonsense. Aaron’s probably somewhere, being useful.

His team. His support. Coming out onto the front lines with him, because they genuinely believed that Andrew was going to change the world.

When Andrew volunteered in Aaron’s place, he didn’t think he’d ever see his family again.

Just goes to show: nothing is predictable. Not in a world like this.

Andrew beelines for the lonely kids, the ones without parents, shunted into the corner. There’s one with a stump instead of an arm, like Kevin, and one who was avoxxed in the raid, like Nicky’s boyfriend. They all learned sign language for him, so Andrew kneels on the floor and says hello.

The kid’s eyes light up when he realises Andrew can talk to him. The others get excited too, crowding around.

They ask him questions. He talks whilst he signs, keeping his voice low. He tells them what sunrise looks like from the capitol’s training tower, how to properly throw a knife, why you choosing your family is important, and protecting them even more so. Their eyes are as wide as saucers, drinking in every word. Andrew has always been good with kids.

He realises that the cameras have been trained on him and stops talking. The kids get sad, but then a nurse comes around to move Andrew along so that they can have their checkups. Andrew hoists himself up off the ground, ignoring his cousin as he comes closer. He has tears in his eyes.

“That was beautiful,” he says. “Neil would -”

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps, because there’s a lot of things he tries not to think about, and Neil is one of them.

His and Neil’s story is a long one. Andrew was in the 5th district, the fostered son of the mayor. He had a best friend, one he didn’t tell anyone about lest his older brother, Drake, discover how pretty Neil was. Neil’s mother was overprotective, hiding him away from the public eye, but together they would climb outside the district’s boundaries and play together in the woods.

Then Andrew met his biological family when Major Cass Spear was invited to the 12th district for diplomacy. He decided to stay. He was twelve at the time: he and Aaron entered the reapings that year. His cousin had three years left, but would never be voted in: he was also the son of a terrible mayor. When Nicky turned 18, Tilda died, his parents disowned him, and he looked after the twins for another 2 years before Aaron was reaped and Andrew took his place.

That year, a scrawny seventeen year old from the 2nd district, who wasn’t a career tribute, volunteered himself. It wasn’t until Andrew had met all the tributes in the capitol that he realised who that kid was: Neil, his childhood best friend, who was fulfilling an old promise of protection.

Andrew had hated him quite a bit for it: only one of them was meant to escape the arena. There were bets placed on how soon Andrew would kill him and how. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that Andrew would rather die than kill Neil.

So, in the end, when it’d just been the two of them, they swore a truce. They fought against the capitol’s attempts at whittling them down till the capitol gave up. Andrew thought they’d beat the system: it took him a hellish victory tour, another trip back to the arena and losing Neil to the capitol to know that wasn’t true.

Neil. Neil, Neil, Neil. The other reason Andrew doesn’t want to be here. Neil’s back in district 13, recovering from his weeks spent being tortured at the capitol’s hands. The rebels weren’t given the chance to grab him before the capitol snatched him away. Andrew had paced grooves into the ground during his absence.

And when he came back? Well, Andrew would’ve rathered that Neil forgot him entirely. Instead they - his father, his worst nightmare and most talented gamemaker in the capitol - had turned Neil against him. Made him loathe Andrew with every fibre of his being. Enough so that he’d tried to strangle Andrew when they’d first been reunited.

He is better now, but still avoiding Andrew at every possible junction. Andrew inexplicably still wants to stay by his side. Abby says his memory will return with time. Andrew will just have to wait.

Nicky’s eyes go wide. “I thought you were going to sort things out with him -”

But then Kevin is yelling, sirens are wailing. The hospital begins to dissolve into panic. Andrew only has to hear someone yell “Bombs!” to understand, being directed out of the building. Someone’s trying to set up artillery to shoot them down. It’s too late. Andrew’s lot makes it out, but only a handful of patients are able to stumble out after them before the building explodes. Andrew looks over his shoulder as they’re running towards where their helicopter is descending. The warehouse structure has collapsed inwards. Those who hadn’t died in the explosion are being torn apart by shrapnel and debris. All those kids. Gone.

“Turn the camera on,” he murmurs, holding out his hands. The bomber planes aren’t turning around, but there’s a second fleet of carrier craft behind them, bringing peacekeepers by the dozen.

“Andrew,” Aaron says, stricken. The camera’s red light is already flashing.

“This is what you get for remaining neutral,” Andrew spat out, flinging a pointed hand behind him at the burning hospital. “Massacred. Think about that next time you assume the capitol will be on your side.”

He’s facing away from the carnage. It’s the only reason that he doesn’t see the peacekeeper aim and fire. He doesn’t even realise he’s been shot until the rest of him start screaming.

By then it’s too late: he’s falling, falling into darkness, wishing that he’d never involved himself in this stupid rebellion in the first place.

He blinks awake and stares at the ceiling. District thirteen, being a burner district, doesn’t have many variations in its ceilings, but Andrew knows this one all too well.

He’s in the hospital.

His hands go to his arms: the armbands are still there, but they’re rolled down and his knives are gone. There’s a morphine drip in his left elbow and fluids in his right. He can barely feel his body.

“I have your knives,” says a familiar voice. Andrew has to be dreaming.

Neil’s appearance has always fluctuated: when they’d first met, his hair had been black and his eyes natural blue. During the games he’d started off with brown hair and brown eyes, but a lack of resources meant that he’d ended up forgoing the contacts and letting his roots grow out. He’d forgone the brown eyes but kept up with the dye till the second games, which hadn’t lasted long enough for any major changes.

Now he is fully and unequivocally Nathaniel Wesniniski, son of Nathan, scarring on his cheeks, arms and torso telling a narrative that is a hard-won fight. Nathan and his lackey Lola had both been killed brutally in Neil’s rescue. Andrew is glad.

“Hey,” Neil says, when Andrew isn’t exactly forthcoming. “How are you faring?”

“You’re not here to finish the job?”

Neil’s lips quirk. “Drama queen. Your suit was fitted with kelvar: there’s a lot of bruising, but you’ll be fine in a week.”

Andrew drops his head back down onto his pillow. “Dammit.”

Neil snorts. He’s in a good mood. Andrew can tell he’s still on edge, but he was always a paranoid kid. It’s not going to take some genial bedside manner to undo everything his father did.

“I know that everything they told me was fake,” he says, looking at the knives in his hands. “I have always been a jumble of identities and false pretences. This shouldn’t be news to you.”

Andrew just hums. He can’t even wiggle his toes. How the hell did they had stuff this strong down here? They were all eating onion slop rations but had morphine good enough to even send Dan into a spiral.

“I gave this knife to you,” Neil continues, holding up a sleek blade. Matte black. Andrew’s sharpest blade and perfectly weighted for throwing. “This was my mother’s. You must have been very special to me if I gave you this.”

“I hate you,” Andrew says.

“Are you sure?” Neil asks. “Because I’m not.”

Andrew just huffs.

“I remember...” he hesitates. “I remember us. Together. In your district 12 victory house, after the tour...then again, in the tower before the 75th games.”

Andrew stares at the wall opposite him. He really doesn’t want to have this conversation. “It didn’t mean anything.”

“I think it did,” Neil says, softspoken. He’s never soft-spoken. “My father - he couldn’t create new memories. He could only twist old ones. For me to hate you as much as I did, I must have really...You know. Lo-”

“Don’t,” Andrew says, because this a war and if he hears something like that fate will go against him. “I’m not your answer, Neil.”

Neil shrugs. “Okay.” Then, with methodical precision, he checks Andrew’s vitals, removes the needles and rolls up his bands. Then he slides the knives in place, fingertips briefly brushing over Andrew’s skin. Andrew, for some reason, lets him.

“Your last morphine dose was seven hours ago,” Neil says, settling back into his chair. “It’ll wear off soon. You were asleep for nearly 2 days, did you know? Aaron says the bruising is horrific. You probably won’t be able to move for another 3 days. But hey, at least all the districts are in revolt now. You getting shot on camera actually helped the cause...”

He chatters innocuously. Andrew listens. Neil’s still nervous, still schooling his bodily reactions of hatred and disgust, but he’s here anyway. Distracting Andrew from his own snare of a mind.

Maybe there’s goodness in this terrible, terrible world.

Maybe Andrew can have it.

He’ll just have to live long enough to find out.

yeehawwww

#andreil #hunger games au #andrew minyard #neil josten #tw: canon typical violence #andrew is good with kids fight me #is that??? a love confession??????#all for the game

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cabin-7 · 4 years

Text

Did someone say solangelo???

Secret Smooches

@i-love-all-books I got you bro

TW: I dont think there are any but tell me if any are needed.

Word count:2231 short and simple

AN: this started super late at night and I just kept comin back to it so here's a fluffy as hell Solangelo fic written by yours truly. It also not been checked so grammar mistakes aka terrible writing ahead

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

Nico didn’t know why it started. To most people, it was endearing what Will did but to Nico, he was just annoyed. He enjoyed kisses from his boyfriend, but not so suddenly. At least that’s what he told everyone else.

It started a few weeks into their relationship. Nico was sitting at the Hades table eating whatever he had first thought of when he heard Will walk past, seemingly talking with friends. He turned to wave and just as soon as he was facing him Will smacked a kiss onto his lips and kept on walking and talking as if he had done nothing in particular. Nico, on the other hand, was gobsmacked and raised his hand up to his lips. His head swiveled towards where Will had just sat down at the Apollo table and gave him a look that he hoped conveyed his message: “What the hell was that about?”. In return. Will simply smirked and winked at him. Nico felt blood rush up to his cheeks as he stubbornly turned back to his plate trying not to reminisce on the chaste kiss.

----

Then it became a routine. The thing was that it always happened before people showed up at the dining pavilion. Nico had convinced will to eat lunch because of it which was why Nico didn’t try to tell Will to stop. Because if Will ate lunch, he was taking care of himself, so what was a little kiss in front of a few people.

One day Jason had slipped into a seat across from Nico and was mindlessly chattering. He talked about his girlfriend which Nico wasn’t entirely interested in. He commented back nonetheless, so he wouldn’t be seen as rude. Jason was his friend after all. Their conversation slowly transitioned to another topic.

Jason picked up a book that he had at his side. “I’m revamping all of the temples on the Temple Hill as you know,” he said excitedly as he flickered through the pages, “and I want your opinion on the Pluto temple,” he flipped a few pages back and flipped the book towards Nico to reveal messy sketches and notes. The drawings weren’t wonderful by any means and it was clear that Jason was still learning but it was definitely better than the last time he had seen Jason’s sketches. Nico wondered if he had gotten some tips from Hazel. Jason pointed at spots on the page and explained what he had visioned.

“So I think having some sort of torches would be fitting, but I don’t want it to be too dark,” he said with a huff, “I’m just not sure what to do for that.”

“Just promise me it won’t be like Hades cabin when we first came here,” Nico remarked, “it was so-” suddenly Nico heard his name being called. Looking to his left he saw none other than his boyfriend running up the hill waving his arms dramatically. Nico glanced over at Jason who looked mildly confused.

As quickly as he could Will rushed up to Nico.

“It’s kind of crazy in the infirmary so I have to skip lunch but-” Will started but Nico cut him off by holding out an apple.

“You need to eat something,’ he said, “and, an apple a day keeps the doctor away is how the saying goes right? That means you can scram for all I care,” he teased lightly.

Will smiled at Nico and gratefully took the apple. “Thanks, babe,” he chirped before planting a sweet kiss on Nico’s lips that lingered for a few seconds. Not too long, but enough for Nico to blush ever so slightly. Will pulled away still smiling, “you’re the best,” he waved at Jason with a small ‘hey’ before ruffling Nico’s hair and running back to the infirmary.

Nico watched him run off with furrowed eyebrows. He couldn’t decide whether to be angry, flustered, or endeared. He settled on a stone-cold expression he turned back to Jason. He also decided that his feeling for Will could be kept in his mind. Jason had a mischievous grin and at that moment Nico felt himself grow embarrassed and the blush return to his cheeks and ears. He felt like people might’ve been staring at him, but that he was used to. It was the look on Jason’s face that told Nico he was in for it though.

“So... Will Solace?” he questioned innocently and Nico groaned, burying his face in his hands. Jason cackled and leaned forward, “oh c’mon! You’ve gotta at least tell me about him!”

Nico shook his head and Jason only begged him for some information on the boy who had suddenly kissed him. After a lot of refusals, Nico let loose the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth and looked up.

Nico heaved a heavy sigh as he balanced his head on the palm of his hand, “he’s my boyfriend,” he confessed. Jason gave a subtle eye roll and muttered ‘duh’. Nico lightly hit his arm. “I’ve been dating him for a few months. We started dating on September 15 and today is…” he glanced at Jason for the date.

The son of Jupiter laughed, “it’s November 18th”

Nico nodded, “right. Well anyway, he does…” he paused as he thought of what to say, “Since like October he’s been” he felt his face grow hotter and hesitated, “kissing me when I least expect it.”

“Awww!” Jason cooed, “that’s so cute!”

Nico glared at him, “don’t push your luck Grace. You may be my friend but that doesn’t mean I’m any less likely to punch you.”

----

The tradition continued, every day. Nico always thought he’d expect it, but then it started changing. Will switched up when he did, but made sure it was at least at one of the three meals. He said it was to make sure Nico was eating, but the other knew better. He knew Will was having fun with it, and gods be damned he wasn’t going to upset him.

So, it was definitely odd when Nico hadn’t seen Will at breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Call him a worrywart, but he knew something was wrong. Or at least he thought he did. So Nico finished his dinner wearily and even waited in the dining pavilion for a bit. People gave him odd looks. Jason teased him, but he didn’t care. He was just worried about Will and he wasn’t going to miss him.

Eventually, though, he decided that it would be better to look for Will than wait for him. So he hoisted himself off of the table’s bench and started to walk off into the camp. He decided to stop by the Apollo cabin. When he got close to the cabin he heard Dancing Queen by Abba being played loudly over High Hopes by Panic! At The Disco. There were other songs mixed in here and there not playing nearly as loud as Apollo children loudly shouted over one another.

“SHUT UP PANIC AT THE EVERYWHERE NICKI MINAJ IS OUR QUEEN” a low voice yelled.

“THAT’S SAC-RELIGIOUS TO HERA..or something-”

“IT’S NOT RELIGION IF “GOD” IS YOUR DAD SHUT UP PARKER”

Nico chuckled quietly to himself as he stepped on the porch. He wondered if knocking would even work, but there was no doorbell so he’d have to hope. He wasn’t looking to raise his voice or just open the door.

Luckily children of Apollo have extremely keen ears.

As soon as Nico knocked he heard one of Will’s sister, Kayla, yell “QUIET” louder than was humanly possible. Nico was beginning to realize how loud Apollo kids really were. All music in the cabin ceased it’s playing and the door swung open to show Kayla with a bright smile and a lot of Apollo kids who seemed to be fighting. One had another pinned to the ground, holding a fist above her head as her brother squirmed.

“Yo! Nico!” Kayla greeted, “sorry about the ruckus, music debate night. You know how it is.” Nico, in fact, didn’t have a clue what she was talking about, “anyway, how can I help you?”

Nico could feel the eyes of Apollo campers glaring into them as they impatiently waited for their debate to resume. Nico smiled awkwardly, “just looking for Will, is he here?”

Kayla spun around and looked around the large cabin, “WILL?” she yelled. No reply. A small girl who was being sat on by her younger (but stronger) brother squeaked, “Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Another kid called, “who’s Will?” Kayla spun around back to Nico, “I think that’s your answer. Check the dining pavilion, maybe the infirmary. Though he shouldn’t be in the infirmary, I told him to catch a break.”

Nico sighed, “I’ve been telling him for the entire time I’ve known him,” He shrugged, “well… thanks, Kayla.” She nodded and waved before she picked up two pots.

“You might wanna cover your ears, and close the door will you?” Nico shut the door and heard two pots clang together as Kayla screamed, “ROUND THREE! WARFARE!” before the music began blaring loudly once more. The bass was so strong that the cabin shook beneath his feet. Nico quickly hopped off the porch. Once he was a few feet away from the cabin the noise ceased. He assumed there was some sort of noise spell put over the cabin because he knew that if there wasn’t the cabin would’ve been heard all the way in New Jersey.

Nico pulled his black leather jacket closer to him as the chilly autumn air blew around him. While Camp Half-Blood had control over the weather, year-round campers liked to experience the different seasons, if a bit milder. Nico did too. He likes to see the trees changing and feel the colder weather kick in. Bonus: he got to steal Will’s jackets.

The son of Hades tried to peek into the infirmary through the windows but the curtains were drawn. Suspicion bubbled in Nico’s chest, but either way, he knocked. Unlike the Apollo cabin, the silence wasn’t nice to hear. So he tried the doorknob. Turns out it was unlocked so Nico walked right in.

“Will?” Nico called. There was a shuffling from a back room and a crash before a familiar voice called back.

“One sec!” Will yelled. His voice sounded a bit strained, but nothing worrying. Nico was more so worried about the crash and why Will was still at the infirmary.

Soon enough Will walked out of the backroom and tossed his gloves out before he rubbed his eyes. Nico smiled softly at him and cautiously held open his arms. Will smiled gratefully and walked into Nico’s arms, tenderly wrapping his arms around his torso and burying his head in his hair. Nico rested his chin on Will’s chest.

“Rough day?” he asked quietly. Will silently nodded and held Nico closer to him which only made the boy smile. “We all have bad days. Is there anything I can do to help?” Once again Will stayed silent, but this time he shrugged. Nico nodded and reached up to press a kiss to Will’s cheek. “Your siblings are being super loud right now. We can go to my cabin and watch TV or something.”

Will cracked a smile, “I forgot that it was a music debate Monday” he said quietly, “we can hang out in your cabin,” he took a deep breath, “that sounds nice.”

Nico smiled a bit more and let go of the medic, “wanna tell me what happened first?”

So, Will sighed and began to explain that on top of being busy, he just felt out of it. He was not only physically tired but emotionally too. Nico listened to everything he said as he spoke in a far different tone than usual. It was soft and quiet. And yet Nico knew that it was still his Will. So as they were about to leave the infirmary, Nico grabbed Will’s sleeve to stop him and planted a surprise kiss on his cheek like he always did for him. Surprise smooches always brightened up his day.

----

Nico rested his head on Will’s chest, “So, the dinosaurs are CGI?” he asked for confirmation.

\Will nodded as he raked his fingers through Nico’s hair, “Yeah. it’s really cool technology, but I wouldn’t be the person to tell you about it. The son of Hades nodded, “It just looks so..so..”

His boyfriend chuckled, “real? Yeah, I know. It’s kind of crazy-” he was cut off by a sudden boy kissing him sweetly. Will blushed a bit but happily obliged to the sudden kiss that ended too soon for liking. “What was that for?” He asked.

Nico shrugged, settling back into where he was snuggled up, “you’ve given me a crap ton of surprises, why can you get one?” Will laughed softly and pulled the quilt on Nico’s bed up closer, “yeah that’s fair.”

“It should be a game,” Will said after a pause, “who can steal a secret smooch first?” there was a moment of silence between them before they both burst out laughing.

“You’re on Solace,” Nico said with a smirk. Will nodded and the two shook hands at an awkward angle before they both dove in for the first move of a game that would last way longer than they expected.

#heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #nico di angelo #will solace #hoo #jason grace #solangelo fic #solangelo #apollo #apollo cabin #cabin 7 #pjo fanfic #fanfic

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

The Blue Neighborhood Series: SUBURBIA (Group) - Mac

AN: A million and one thanks to everyone who has been here for this journey, I cannot thank you enough for your support and comments and love. I’m so thankful to have you guys and I hope this last chapter lives up to your expectations.

All my love to Meggie for betaing. All my love to Alex who made me actually start writing this series a year ago. All my love to Barbie for letting me bounce ideas off of her.

All my love to you all reading this. <3

Summary: The girls of the Blue Neighborhood grew up together. Playing in the streets, trading secrets, and falling in love.

And maybe, just maybe, they can forgive each other.

Rock bit back a smile as she heard footsteps bounding up the stairs to the prop room.

A week ago she would have scuttled into the far corner and hid until the person left, but now, as Aiden’s flushed face appeared in the doorway, Rock felt only a trace of nervousness.

“What’s up, bitch?” Aiden said by way of greeting.

Rock rolled her eyes, but patted the cool stone floor beside her, motioning for the other girl to sit. Aiden took her spot silently, the two falling into a sort of semi-comfort that they had developed over the past weeks.

Rock pulled out her phone, instinctively tapping through the screen to pull up the next episode of Sailor Moon.

She felt rather than heard Aiden’s complaint from beside her. “We are not watching this garbage again,” the dark-haired girl said, making a grab for the phone in Rock’s hand. But Rock had been anticipating this, and snatched her hand away in the nick of time, ratcheting up the volume a few notches to drown out Aiden’s groan of defeat.

“You were the one who busted up into my lunch spot. You can either bite your tongue or find another place to hide from everyone who’s pissed at you,” Rock retorted. “Also, don’t pretend you don’t like it, I see the way you look at Neptune, you fucking lesbian.”

Aiden rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched up. “First of all, you’re a bitch. Second of all, shut up.”

Rock smirked. “I don’t hear you denying it.”

Aiden waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, just play the damn show so I don’t have to hear you talk anymore.”

Rock smiled smugly to herself, pressing play and sinking back against the cold brick wall, Aiden’s warm presence heavy at her side.

The two watched in relative silence, save for Rock’s occasional need to info dump about a particular scene or character. Aiden rolled her eyes and gave her biting comments, but Rock could tell she appreciated the attention not being on her.

Ever since Aiden had been outed as the person behind the drama account, she had sunk even more into the background. Where before she would pipe in with snark and wit, now she sat back in silence, letting herself practically disappear in the horde.

Rock understood the feeling in a way.

Maybe that’s why they seemed to get along.

Aiden had stumbled up to the prop room one day, seeking asylum from her mistakes, and Rock had let her.

But questions still ate at her, bit at the tension in the air around them as they continued to watch in silence. Rock could feel them steadily bubbling to the surface, tempting her to ruin the peace she and Aiden had found.

She bit the bullet, pressing pause, noticing her breathing was coming out harsher than before.

“Why’d you do it?” she asked.

The question hung still in the air for a long while, so long that Rock nearly looked up to see if Aiden was still sitting beside her.

The older girl sighed, long and low. “You promised you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“Yeah.” Rock nodded, turning to meet Aiden’s eyes. “I lied.”

Aiden broke the contact, putting her head in her hands and letting out a shaky exhale. Rock expected her to leave, to lash out and storm away.

But Aiden just breathed in and out once more before lifting her head, staring at the stone floor intently. “My parents got divorced the summer before freshman year,” she said slowly, as if testing out the words on her tongue. “It came out of nowhere. There were no big fights or warning signs, just… divorce. And Mom never said why.”

Rock saw the other girl’s features soften the tiniest bit before harsh lines replaced them.

“We were happy. A happy, normal family. We played board games and went on camping trips and spent hours staring up at the clouds.” Aiden bit her lip harshly. “It came out of nowhere.”

She took a steadying breath before speaking again. “And then my dad got real sick. Couldn’t be on his own so he moved back in. And I couldn’t—” Aiden shook her head. “I didn’t know how to be there… in that house.”

“Everyday I would come back from school and I’d have lost a little more of him,” she practically whispered, voice suddenly hoarse and grating. “Mom did her best, caring for a man she didn’t love anymore, but she worked, and I went to school and… and… and we weren’t there for him.”

There was a beat of silence before Aiden spoke again. “I didn’t go home the week after he died. I slept in the theatre seats down there, showered in the locker rooms. Fuck.”

Rock didn’t know what to say, couldn’t imagine the pain and suffering that lived inside this girl she had known for so long.

Aiden’s expression hardened, but she still refused to look up from where her eyes were fixed on the floor. “That week I started noticing stuff. People doing shit they weren’t supposed to, shit that didn’t make sense.”

“The account wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, just a place to post dumb shit about the people who were dicks to me.”

Aiden finally turned to meet Rock’s gaze, her eyes wide and helpless. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand, but all of a sudden people found it, and were sending the account other stuff. Confessions, kinks, teacher-student relationships and I-I didn’t know what to do.”

“And then I saw Gigi and Jaida,” Aiden exhaled shakily.

“And I remembered how hurt Crystal had been all those years ago, how hurt she still was about the whole thing. And I tried to bring it up to her, but she shot me down. And I tried to let it go, I really did. But they just kept hooking up, and they weren’t even being secretive about it. And after three fucking years of hurting Crystal, I thought they deserved a little bit of shit for what they did.”

“So you posted the picture.” Rock nodded.

“Yeah.” Aiden sighed.

Rock took a deep breath in and out. “I didn’t know that, about your dad.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Aiden shook her head. “I didn’t want the pity. I didn’t want people… looking after me. It didn’t feel right since I didn’t-I couldn’t look after him.”

Rock nodded. “That all must have been…” She paused. “Really overwhelming,” she said lightly, placing a gentle hand on Aiden’s shoulder.

Aiden scoffed, shrugging off Rock’s affection. “Why are you saying it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you…” Aiden floundered, “I dunno, understand. Like you’re not mad.”

Rock shook her head. “Oh, I’m mad,” she assured.

Aiden looked down to her fingers, toying with the laces of her shoes.

“But I get why you did it.”

Aiden shook her head, words coming out in a desperate whisper. “I’m not sure I do.”

“You want answers.” Rock shrugged. “That’s all any of us want. You want to know why your parents divorced, you want to know why people lie, you want to know how someone could cheat on someone else.”

Aiden looked up to meet Rock’s eyes, the first look of genuine vulnerability passing between them.

“You don’t get to know.” Rock smiled sadly. “You gotta suck it up like the rest of us and get comfortable with not knowing.”

Aiden’s gaze darted away, breaking eye contact again, but Rock didn’t stop. “You don’t get to make up a narrative and force other people to fit it. You wanna be emo and angsty and upset at the world, fine, you do that, but you don’t get to ruin other people’s lives just because you got dealt a shit hand in life.”

“Tough talk for a bitch hiding in a prop room,” Aiden snapped.

Rock chuckled. That’s the Aiden she knew. “In case it escaped your notice, you’re also up here hiding, dumbass.”

Aiden looked at Rock hard, walls up, defenses primed, ready to attack.

But then she laughed.

Really, genuinely laughed.

And she didn’t stop.

She didn’t stop until tears started streaming down her face, and she was hiccuping around sobs she desperately tried to fight off.

And Rock held her through it.

…

Brita couldn’t help a smile as she made her way down the hallway and through the open doors to the art room. She was met with a chorus of greetings that still managed to make her stomach flip.

She took up her usual seat next to Heidi, and the two began to trade the entirety of their respective lunches. They fell into easy conversation, as the couples on either side of the room were too absorbed in each other to pay them any mind.

Brita watched them out of the corner of her eye, blaming it on curiosity.

Nicky and Crystal sat next to each other, smiling ear to ear and occasionally feeding each other bites of food like lovesick idiots.

“They’re so gross,” Heidi groaned from beside her.

The two girls in question whipped around to glare at her.

“I miss when you were both too gay to talk to each other. Can we go back to that? I miss that.” Heidi whined, stabbing at the pasta Brita brought with a fork.

Crystal raised a challenging brow at Heidi, and without breaking eye contact, which was a feat in and of itself, pulled Nicky in for an overly loud kiss.

Heidi scowled. “I hate y’all.”

Brita laughed at the pair, but as their kiss became more heated, she turned her head, hoping to conceal the flush that ran the length of her neck.

She shook her head to clear it, mind suddenly muddled as she tried to piece together the feelings welling up inside her at such a public display. Her eyes flitted around the room, latching on to anything that could keep her attention.

She saw Gigi, who was perched on one of the tables, elbows resting atop her knees, head in her hands as Jackie rambled on about something to do with a new congresswoman who was ‘changing the political game.’

They seemed… comfortable. At ease around each other in a way that wasn’t unexpected, they had known each other their whole lives, yet Brita was still shocked when they announced they were dating. But now, looking at the two sharing gentle smiles over their respective lunches, Brita didn’t know why she never put the two together before. The pair was well-matched. Their quiet intimacy seeped into their conversation, gentle giggles erupting every so often from their side of the room.

Brita again found herself oddly entranced.

Was that what it was like to love a woman?

Was it always so… tender?

Nausea filled the pit in her gut, and she turned away from the happy couple.

Internalized Homophobia.

She had read about it on the internet. Hadn’t batted her eye at the definition the first time, but now it seemed to be coming back to her.

It didn’t feel good, not at all. Confronting that about herself. Seeing such blatant representation of something she had learned to bury so long ago.

But it wasn’t impossible.

She knew that to get to the bottom of this… whatever it was she was feeling, she had to confront it head on. She had to understand where it came from and why it seemed to hurt her so much.

These girls, these couples moreover, were showing her that it didn’t have to be so hard. That there was a chance for happiness, unabashed joy even. Love.

And that, funnily enough, gave her hope.

Heidi chuckled from beside her, noticing her red face. “You sure you don’t like girls, Miss Filter?”

It took everything in her not to flinch.

Instead, Brita simply shrugged.

And she counted that a victory.

…

Widow started as she nearly ran headfirst into a lanky brunette.

Before she could so much as say something, the figure had bolted toward the school building. Widow just watched him go, an amused smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. As she rounded the sports shed, she overheard her friend’s voice clear and brash as always.

“Matthews only cares if your paper’s in fucking English, doesn’t matter the content.”

A short blonde girl rolled her eyes pointedly and went to say something, but Dahlia stopped her with a hand. “You know the rules yeah? Change the first and last word for each paragraph.”

The girl nodded.

Dahlia pulled out a handful of loose papers and held them out to the freshman, who grabbed them wordlessly. “Now get lost.”

Widow smiled as the young kid scampered off.

“You really should charge them more,” she called out.

Dahlia started at the sound of another voice, but relaxed as she identified the source.

She smirked, shrugging. “Consider it a donation to charity.”

“I dunno if you can count having half the freshman class cheat off of you for tax write-offs.”

Dahlia chuckled.

“You ‘bout done here?” Widow asked, gesturing to the makeshift office Dahlia had set up.

The younger girl nodded, throwing papers haphazardly into her open backpack.

Widow looked around, the breeze ruffling her curls and sending a shiver down her spine. “Yeah, let’s get outta here, this place gives me the creeps.”

“You think this place is bad, you should see the old greenhouse. That shit’s fuckin’ haunted, man.” Dahlia shook her head.

Widow’s eyes lit up. “The WHAT?”

Dahlia turned to stare wide eyed at her. “You serious? You ain’t ever gone by it?”

Widow shook her head dumbly.

Dahlia chuckled, flinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Lead the way, bitch.” Widow smiled.

They walked for only ten minutes, past the baseball field and through the line of trees that bordered the athletic quad. Through a patch of thick brush they came to a small clearing. An old greenhouse stood practically tethered to the surrounding vegetation, only because of the fading light reflecting against the frosted glass could Widow even make out the corners of the structure.

Before they could so much as stop, Widow was excitedly pulling her camera out of her school bag, fiddling with the aperture until she got the lighting perfect on the small screen in front of her.

Dahlia rolled her eyes fondly, allowing her friend to stalk around the building, snapping endless pictures, mumbling about shutter speed and light refraction. It was only a matter of time, and a few pleading words from Widow, before Dahlia found herself posing next to the greenhouse.

“I regret this already,” she groaned but allowed Widow to pose her in various absurd positions, all of which felt incredibly awkward, yet came out stunning.

The two girls ventured into the structure, finding the inside just as overgrown and sprawling as the outside. It felt much bigger on the inside, wooden tables covered in pots lined the walls, leaving only a center plot of ground to walk, but the walls were massive, green tint to the window panes making the ceiling appear vaulted.

“This place is gorgeous, oh my god!” Widow exclaimed, practically jumping up and down in excitement. She whipped around to face Dahlia, eyes alight with her signature mischief. “Oh my god, D, we could totally give this place a makeover.”

Dahlia went to protest, because really? But Widow started talking a mile a minute before she could get a word in.

“Just move that plant over there and that table against the far wall, and we could probably fit a couch in here if we turned it sideways. My dad has this old one in the basement that we don’t use. We could get Jaida’s truck and haul it here. And I know Crystal would fucking love to paint in this place. Not to mention we could totally smoke here without getting caught. And—”

Dahlia finally butted in. “What do I look like? Fuckin’ HGTV?”

Widow rolled her eyes, turning to face her friend, the plea evident in her tone. “This place could be a really bangin spot, D,” she implored. “Plus, with it gettin cold an’ all, we’ve got fuck all to do.”

Dahlia sighed. “Remind me why we’re friends.” Even as she said it, Dahlia couldn’t keep the smile from creeping up the sides of her face.

“Because you love me.” Widow whined, pulling Dahlia closer, and peppering kisses against the side of her face.

Dahlia pushed her off gently, miming vomiting, and Widow just laughed.

The two cleared off a bit of the tables, each setting up across from each other. They fell into a comfortable silence, inhaling and exhaling the late autumn breeze, watching as their breath danced in the air.

“You talked to Gigi?” Widow finally asked, shattering their peaceful silence.

Dahlia sighed, long and low. “Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “Said I was sorry about the stuff at the party. I didn’t know… I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I had no clue.”

“None of us did.”

“Yeah, but it was kinda my fault in the first place.”

Widow shrugged. “It woulda come out one way or another.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dahlia bit her lip, refusing to meet Widow’s eyes.

“But?”

“But, I still gotta talk to Jan.”

Widow sighed, but nodded her head knowingly. “Yeah, you do,” she agreed.

“I just don’t know how the fuck to go about it.”

Widow scoffed. “Maybe start with ‘I’m sorry.’”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Dahlia groaned, letting her head drop into her open hands. “Fuck, man. I really messed up.”

“You knew that when you fell for another girl’s boyfriend,” Widow replied.

“Yeah, but it just got so complicated.”

Widow nodded, smiling sadly. “That’s life for ya. Doesn’t mean you don’t do the right thing.”

Dahlia nodded into her hands, breathing in and out slowly. When she finally looked up to meet Widow’s eyes, she nodded. “She and Bryce broke up.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he told me last week. I didn’t know how to feel.”

There was a pause. “How do you feel?” Widow asked.

Dahlia looked at her for a moment, mind everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “I dunno. I thought I’d be… happy? I guess. But I just feel… nothing.”

Widow nodded. “Well, hey, if you’re ever feeling down, just know that Joe asks me at least once a month if you’d join us for a threesome.”

Dahlia laughed, even though she hadn’t wanted to. “I’ve still got it,” she joked.

Widow rolled her eyes playfully. “You’ve always had it, bitch. You just been wastin’ it on guys you couldn’t have.”

“Yeah yeah, all right, who are you, my therapist?”

Widow suddenly got very serious, her voice grave. “Don’t even joke about that. That’s fuckin’ terrifying.”

“Hey!” Dahlia yelled, flinging a handful of dirt at her friend.

Widow held up her hands in surrender. “Your mind is a scary place, D.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

…

Heidi looked up as the door to the house across the street opened and closed, revealing an exhausted looking Jaida.

The All-Star player exhaled loudly, leaning against her front door. When she opened her eyes, she saw Heidi and had the decency to look embarrassed.

Heidi just smiled knowingly. “You too?”

The tension in Jaida’s shoulders dissipated as she recognized Heidi’s meaning. “Dude,” she exhaled, shaking her head.

“I know.” Heidi chuckled.

“It’s like… they don’t know how to act like people.”

“I know!” Heidi agreed. “What’s with that?”

“The fuck if I know.” Jaida smiled warmly.

“Promise me if I ever get old and start acting like that you’ll just shoot me in the head.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Jaida chuckled.

“Hey!” Heidi scoffed, waving the bowl she had around animatedly.

Jaida just laughed, easy and light.

“Whatcha got there?” She motioned to the Tupperware in Heidi’s hands.

A mischievous smile broke out across Heidi’s face. “Banana pudding,” she winked. “Best you’ve ever had, I guarantee.”

Jaida’s eyes lit up and she raised a brow inquisitively at the dish.

“Go grab a few spoons and you can try some.” Heidi nodded.

“A few?”

“If you think we the only ones with crazy family on Thanksgiving, you got another thing comin’.”

As if on cue, the door to Jackie’s house banged open, the aforementioned girl storming out the door and into the street, breathing harshly. Heidi could feel the anger and hurt rolling off her in waves, and felt sympathy well up inside her. She knew Jackie’s family was rough, they’d been especially difficult the past month with her relationship with Gigi coming to light.

Heidi didn’t think twice about waving her over with a sweeping gesture.

“Hey, guys,” Jackie exhaled, the lines beside her face appearing deeper than they had a few days ago.

The two gave her sympathetic looks.

Heidi clocked the moment Jackie noticed the dish in her hands, her eyes widening a fraction. Heidi patted the ground beside her. “Jaida’s gonna go grab spoons.”

Jaida rolled her eyes but made her way back into the house.

Just then, Nicky’s door opened and the French beauty made her way outside, lighting a cigarette like a reflex as she noticed the girls. She waltzed over to them, smiling all the while. “I thought the point of this holiday was that you were supposed to spend time with your family.”

Before either of them could answer, Crystal’s door banged open.

“Nicky, that better not be what I think it is!”

Nicky’s eyes went wide and she quickly doused her cigarette with her shoe. The french beauty turned on her heel, offering a wide and not at all suspicious smile to her girlfriend. “Ma préféré! I do not know what you mean.”

Crystal raised a challenging eyebrow as she made her way over to the three girls. She surveyed the two on the ground, who pointedly looked away, not about to get in the middle of whatever the fuck those two were on about.

“Mhmmm.” Crystal rolled her eyes.

Jaida appeared again, with several spoons and her own tray of biscuits.

Jackie got up excitedly and rushed back into her house, claiming that she had food too.

The group set up their small feast in the middle of the numerous parked cars that lined the cul de sac. Chatting animatedly about their respective family drama.

It wasn’t long before they were joined by Widow, holding a vat of green beans that her family wouldn’t eat, even though she swore they were seasoned to perfection.

Slowly, one by one, each of the houses in the cul de sac opened and closed, girls pouring out of them, some with food, others with hopeful smiles.

Gigi had bounded over to the group, arms extended with a pot of mac ‘n cheese. She had sidled up right next to Jackie, the new couple whispering in hushed voices, blush high on their cheeks.

Brita joined them not long after, an array of silverware in her hands, and plopped down with Heidi.

Next was Dahlia, with a bottle of wine in each hand.

When Jan joined the group, she looked skeptically at the bottles, but bravely took a swig from each, wincing a bit at the taste.

At some point Rock had snuck into the circle, her occasional odd comment taking the group off guard at the suddenness of her appearance.

The comfortable conversation slowly petered out when Aiden arrived.

The black-haired girl gave a weak smile, gesturing down to the pot in her hands. “I brought stuffing,” she spoke softly.

There was silence.

The group stared at her, and Aiden stared back

The silence went on, each girl’s eyes flitting about the circle, unwilling to be the first to speak.

Until, Rock bit the bullet. “Thank god someone here knows what real Thanksgiving food is!”

There was another beat of silence.

And then conversations resumed.

Slowly at first.

The tension was still there, Aiden wasn’t forgiven, but the tense atmosphere eased a bit as the black-haired girl took up a seat on the outskirts of the group next to Rock, placing her dish in the middle of the circle.

Heidi surveyed the scene, smiling at the sight. A mixture of voices bubbled up from all sides as the girls fell into new, comfortable conversations.

She marveled at the fading color of the trees, signaling the change of season, and the coming winter. As she glanced back over to the group of girls gathered in the center of the street, head clouded, heart full, the only emotion she could pinpoint was hope.

Hope that the girls of the Blue Neighborhood had what it took to tackle the rest of their senior year.

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radrita · 3 years

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Radical Forgiveness!

Pain like I never knew entered my life on August 23rd, 2018. And believe me when I tell you I've been in pain a lot as a child. When I was three, my mom left my brother and me with our dad and grandpa (his dad). When I say left, I mean, never came back. I should mention when I was 15, I found out my mom lived two miles from me my whole life and had another family, complete with a new husband and 3 kids she raised that I never knew about. I met up with her and spent the rest of my days until she passed away, trying to get her to love and accept me like the children she raised. But that would never happen. When my sister, who was raised by my mom, was told she had cirrhosis of the liver from alcoholism and would succumb to it, my mom wished it was me that was going to die instead. Those words would pervade my soul for a LONG time!We were in some foster homes from the ages of 3 to 5. Then our dad, who was an alcoholic, couldn't take care of us anymore, so we were sent to live in an orphanage, and I remained there for seven years. My brother got to go live with our dad and grandpa when he was around 13. I didn't, and I will explain why. We visited home on weekends and holidays until my dad molested me on a few different occasions between 10 and 12. I finally told someone, and then I wasn't able to see him anymore for several years. It may seem to you that it would have been the rational thing to do. But I already lost my mom, and my dad was all I had left. So, it was very heart-wrenching to tell someone. Also, my grandpa (my dad's dad) would pleasure himself in front of me all the time for several of my early teen years. And when I was pregnant with my daughter, my stepdad tried to get me to give him oral sex. Ugh, no wonder I had men issues.

When I turned 15, I had a chance to live with my dad and grandpa again. My caseworker (I was a ward of the state) had me explain what my dad did to me. I was screaming in my head (no, please don't make me). But she did, and his then-wife blamed me, saying I dressed sexy around him (I was 10 lady, geez), and my dad chose her over me. As a result, I only saw him one time over the next 30 years when his mom died (my grandma), and we saw each other at the funeral. Even though my dad and his wife said they would be in touch with me, they never did. I probably don't need to say that my life took some dark turns through addiction and lots of self-abuse. Ready for the real pain that surpassed even all that excitement?

Here is the story of losing my daughter when she was just 33 and the lengthy voyage through anguish like I've never known! Nicole Marie Cuneo was her birth name, and she was the angel in my life that lit up my whole world. I never knew love like that before she was born. It's like my heart didn't even know how to beat before her. And she was the happiest baby and always smiled. At least until she was about 2, and then something changed in her attitude. I didn't know until she was 5 when I started taking her for counseling that she was sexually abused. It occurred while I was working, and she was in her father's care. I can't even tell you the sick feeling that came over me, and as a result of the changes in her, I would spend years taking her for counseling. It was like I had a different child, and I did. Because when you have something like that happen to you, especially at such a young age, it changes your DNA.

When this beautiful child was twelve, she started on the road to using drugs, and as a family, we would watch her struggle with that for the rest of her days. I should mention that I met a man (a wonderful man) that adopted Nicole and my other daughter Samantha Lynn. And, to this day, he is still the constant, stable man in Samantha's life. For that, I will be forever grateful. There are so many details I'm not covering about this journey because it would become a book. I aspire to keep the focus on the journey to forgiveness, but for now, It's time for me to take a break from writing because it's still too painful for me to focus on the loss for too long…... I'm back after a night that was once again filled with tossing and turning physically and mentally. I mentioned that I also had struggles with addiction, which would plague my life from the time I was in my early thirties, and I still battle it as a 56-year-old. For the most part, I have a program and a higher power that keeps it at bay. Still, as all addicts know, it takes daily commitment contingent on our spiritual condition.

Forgiveness is a term defined in the dictionary as: in a psychological sense, is the intentional and voluntary process by which one who may initially feel victimized, undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding a given offense, and overcomes negative emotions such as resentment and vengeance. So, by this information, it means I wish no ill will on the people in my life that have caused me harm or malice. Phew, let me tell you that I have had numerous times that wasn't the case! Visions and thoughts in my mind had me showing up and shooting the people that hurt my sweet girl.

My daughter, as I mentioned, struggled with addiction, and due to that fact, she had three stints in prison. The last stretch, she was sentenced to six years, and she served all but five days of it. She was about to be free when……two weeks before this, she was pounded in the head on two different occasions —once with soap in a sock and one instance with a payphone. I was told she died from long-term methamphetamine use, and it caused a brain aneurysm. This means she was using the entire time while being incarcerated. Oh God, NO, and please help me was all I could think when I was given that news. It's a complex kind of hell to not know what your child died from, and almost 3 years later, I still don't understand a lot of the details. Was it, in fact, the beatings, or was it the drug use? Prisons aren't forthcoming, as you can probably assume. Did they have something to hide? I'm pretty sure they have plenty to hide! Nicole was a sweet, kind, and caring person. Her nickname in prison was Shine because she always spread Sunshine and tried to keep up everyone's spirits. And she was capable of being that way while incarcerated and having to literally fight for her life.

This leads me to the how and why of my journey to forgiveness. I think I was somehow inspired to forgive from a very young age. When I was a kid, I lived my life feeling like I wasn't of this world because nothing made sense. Meaning, how could so many things go so wrong so early in my life? But I also remember thinking numerous times that people do the best they can, so I didn't judge them. And I felt that way pretty much my whole life and still do. A friend brought to my attention that maybe I didn't forgive people as the dictionary defines. But is it possible I had a twisted understanding of what forgiveness meant? And that perhaps I thought I was excusing people's behavior but that I didn't go through the emotions and changes needed in my heart and soul that were required. And that, in fact, I possibly just didn't love myself enough because of all the trauma I endured, that I just thought I forgave them? In other words, I thought I did, but because I didn't love myself, I was just saying It was ok that they hurt me, and (oh well) life goes on?

Um, no, I do love myself! And believe me, when I tell you, I hurt from those offenses against me to my essence (hence addiction, low self-esteem, and pushing people away for a good part of my life). Radical forgiveness doesn't derive from the belief that it's the right thing to do. Therefore, I'm just going to forgive them. And when I hear people that have lost a loved one to murder say that they are evil or are monsters, it makes me sick to my stomach. I feel we are all humans and connected to the universe and each other. If I genuinely accept that, how could I want someone to be eliminated because of my hatred for them? If you look in someone's eyes (soul), how can you want them to die? I didn't and can't give life, so taking it away is also not an option. I know it's revolutionary thinking because when I talk to most people about this topic, they look at me hastily. I TRULY, in my heart and soul, know that there is NOTHING anyone can do to me or anyone that I couldn't forgive. I also love myself enough to know that I will be the one to suffer if I don't. It's like peeing on yourself and expecting someone else to feel the wetness and embarrassment from it.

I love my daughter with the most heartfelt essence of what love means. I grieve every day that I will never be able to smell her scent, feel her embrace, see people's faces light up when she walks in a room, hear her witty sense of humor. And even miss the fact that she was a pain in my ass because of her addiction. When people ask me how many kids I have, it still throws me for a loop. Initially, if I would not have read a book about it, the response they offered the readers to make would have been incomprehensible. They said to say how many kids you gave birth to and not how many you have now. Thank God I read that book! Because that circumstance and several others I probably would have never known how to manage could have been a moment to drive me literally insane.

I have another daughter and Nicky left us a son, and the last thing on earth I want it's for her to lose me on top of losing her sister. I will never be ok that I will never give Nicky the love I have for her again. But hurting others will never provide those moments back to me!

I want people to know that forgiveness restores your soul and allows you to be of service to others and yourself. Without it, I know I will continue to struggle in life, and she would NOT want that for me. She always said that I was a strong person and that she respected me for that. I can't in good conscience have resentment for the ones that hurt or possibly murdered her. I don't want anyone to suffer pain for their actions. Just learn from them. I believe we all just live according to our experiences and do the best we can with what we have learned thus far in life. The ONLY thing I want to come out of losing her is for change to occur in the justice system. An addict that is imprisoned due to addiction is injustice! I'm not a religious person; I'm spiritual. That means we are all connected and equal and should try our best to understand and comfort those in need. And yes, that includes those with mental illness. After all, addiction is a disease (dis-ease) and is a mental illness and should be treated as such.

I'll close with this; perhaps I can forgive because, in my addiction, I have done so many things I vowed I would never do, and it has been excused too many times to count. This has given me the ability to go on and keep trying to be a better person in my life. As I discussed earlier, as a child, I felt I was able to forgive. I soundly believe part of that is the spirituality (higher power) that has always been and always will be in my life. This story is my endeavor to hopefully help others who struggle with forgiveness. And possibly give them what they need to move on past the judgments and/or stigma. I have struck the wall, cussed God, blasted the people that hurt her, and questioned how I would live another day without her. God help me has and is the continual prayer since the day I lost her. She exists in my heart memory, and I prefer to cherish all of the memories, good and heart-wrenching. Because that is the sum of the person that was given to me. She will forever be my angel. I stated that she was the light in my life and the first love in my life when she was born, and that's why I gave her the nickname Angel. She will eternally be that light, and I choose to not put darkness on that by not being able to pardon. So, if you grapple with forgiving someone, think about the freedom that will thoroughly transform your world and those around you if you can let go! I still struggle with my addiction from time to time, but I know it's a process. Forgiveness is an extraordinary place to start because it empowers me to have the opportunity of growth and faith that life is worth living in all its glory and pain.

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sadaboutniall · 4 years

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something about you;

introduction | masterlist | tag | wattpad

Twelve. December, 2010.

He arrives back into Mullingar in the front seat of his dad’s car, backpack on his lap, heart in his throat. The village is fully dressed up in Christmas cheer: lights strung across the high street, tree sparkling in the village green, carolers making their way from door to door. It all looks fake to him somehow, like something in a movie. Something he knew once, but doesn’t anymore.

It’s been five months since he’s been here. Now, he’s got a fortnight at home before he heads off to Los Angeles with the boys to start recording their first album. He can’t even begin to wrap his mind around the fact that he’s going to California to record an album, but that’s just the way his life is now: something no one can wrap their minds around. He remembers a million years ago, in this same car, staring out the window as Greg drove them to Lough Ennell, dreaming of being in California. He’s got a first-class ticket to LAX dated two weeks from today.

He goes through the motions most of the day: spending time with family, letting his gran kiss his face, answering infinite questions about what it’s like living in London and how tall Simon Cowell really is. By the time he leaves to head over to Mully’s he’s exhausted, happy to have the 25 minute walk in the biting December air as a way to wake him up. He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his new puffer jacket, takes the long way to Mully’s, and tries not to think about anything.

Everyone’s there when he arrives and lets himself into the basement: Mully and Emilia curled up together on the basement couch like they were that Halloween a million years ago, Nicky and Gilly kicking a football back and forth in front of the TV as they each sip a beer, Deo standing in front of Mully laughing about something Niall can’t quite make out. And Isla, too, on the couch next to Emilia, the two of them talking animatedly, Isla’s hand coming up to cover her mouth as a smile stretches across her face in response to whatever Emilia’s just told her. Niall’s heart tugs in his chest, splutters and stops, and Isla looks up at him.

‘Hey, you,’ she smiles, stands up to give him a kiss and Niall wants to say no, sit down, the least he can do is bend over to kiss her, but she beats him to it, up on her tippy toes to press her lips against his before he can even step across the room. She kisses just the same as she did when he saw her last, two months ago in London, and it makes him want to cry.

‘Ah, superstar’s here,’ Mully’s saying when Isla pulls away. ‘Rich and famous now mate, you couldn’t bring us some cans?’

‘They don’t pay me,’ Niall says, and it’s half true. The money will come after the album, though he has no living expenses right now, with Modest! paying for everything. Appearances on TV shows pay a few hundred quid each, and he’s put most of that away for Christmas presents for his family and Isla—a few cans wouldn’t have been a bad idea though, he realizes belatedly. It’s kind of the least he can do.

Mully’s laughing though, and so is everyone else, and Niall knows it was a joke, lighthearted taking the piss the way his friends have always done, but something about it is sitting like a stone in his stomach, curdling uncomfortably. He’s different, now. And his mates are too.

Everyone looks different: Mully’s hair is getting longer and Gilly’s shaved his head and Deo’s gotten taller and Mia got new glasses, cute, round ones that really compliment her face. Isla’s different too—her body feels new when he touches her, and there are freckles in spots he doesn’t remember, places where he used to leave his own marks on her skin.

Sometimes, Niall thinks, his life has taken to feeling like a movie montage these days, a supercut of moments rapidly changing around him. It’s all snapshots set to weird background music: laughing all night with Harry and Louis and missing four calls from Isla in the process, waking up absurdly early to go on the radio and sleeping all afternoon so that when he does try to call Isla that night she’s fast asleep, fans outside screaming his name, strangers asking questions about his girlfriend back home. He tries to keep Isla out of it, to protect her privacy, but doing that makes him feel like he has to bury her sometimes, to keep her at arm’s length to keep her safe.

They just keep missing each other, even though they’re on the same time zone and only a short flight apart. It feels like millions of miles, like a whole different world, like every time he goes to touch her hand she drops it, or like every time she leans in for a kiss he turns his head.

He’s sitting next to her now and that feels good—his thigh pressed against hers, his arm around her shoulders, her laugh in his ear—but he knows. And he knows she does, too.

Isla comes over on Boxing Day. She looks so pretty bundled up at his door and all he can think about is how ridiculous it is that she makes him feel so much—that there are girls lined up screaming his name every time he goes outside in London, and yet that doesn’t even come close to how Isla, standing at his door in sweatpants, makes him feel.

Up in his room they kiss on the bed, hands under clothes, lips and teeth sharp on skin. He feels so comfortable with her underneath him, so safe, so sure, and he doesn’t want it to stop, even though he knows it has to. It’s biting at the back of his mind as he presses his tongue between her lips, as he gets his hands on the soft, maroon lace of her bralette, as she arches her back against his hips and tugs gently on his hair and whimpers in his ear. It’s the sound of his name on her lips that pushes him over the edge, that sets the rancid feeling in his stomach up to the ‘Impossible to Ignore’ setting. This isn’t fair to her. He sits back on her thighs, still straddling her, and scrubs a hand over his face.

‘Isla,’ he starts, already breathing a little too heavily.

‘Are you gonna say it now?’ Underneath him, Isla scooches up the bed a little bit. She’s just in her bralette and sweatpants, slung low so he can see her hips.

‘Yeah,’ he takes another deep breath. ‘I think I have to.’

‘Okay,’ Isla’s voice is soft but sure. ‘Just let me sit up?’

He swings his leg over her body and together they get reseated, Isla criss-cross-applesauce with her back against his headboard, him with his shins pressed against the side of her thigh, his back against the wall.

‘I’m going to America next week,’ is how he starts.

‘I know, I’m excited for you.’

‘There’s going to be an eight hour time difference between us.’

‘That’ll be tough.’

‘Yeah. And I’ll be working a lot, like. Writing the album and recording it and practicing my singing. And they think there’s gonna be a tour, too, around America and Europe, after the album. I don’t think I’ll have, like, a lot of spare time? I think it’s going to be pretty full on, from here on out, and I just… I don’t think it would be fair. On you.’

‘I agree.’

‘And I—wait, what?’ Niall stops, entire prepared speech thrown off the rails.

‘I agree,’ Isla’s looking at her hands, picking at her nails. ‘I agree that it wouldn’t be fair on me. It wouldn’t be fair on you either, Niall. I love you, but you’re not here anymore. And that’s not your fault, and this is what I want for you. It’s just, like. There’s no room for me on the plane, you know? Sold out show.’ She looks up at him then, a soft, sweet smile on her face and his heart swoops dramatically and gives out. His next breath comes out shaky.

‘I love you so much,’ he tells her. ‘I can’t imagine I’ll ever stop.’

‘Ah, sure you will,’ Isla’s smile is sad, her voice strong. ‘Think of all the models you’ll meet.’

‘Don’t care about them.’

‘You will,’ she laughs a little, sniffles a little more. ‘You’ll forget about me.’

‘I don’t want to hear you say that,’ Niall shakes his head. The thought of that makes him want to scream, run, go back in time and un-do it all. It feels violent, the idea that he could ever forget about loving Isla. ‘It’s not true.’

Isla doesn’t press it. Instead, she reaches up to wipe her eyes and says, ‘I got you a Christmas present, though. If you want it before we break up officially.’

‘Christ,’ Niall laughs, biting back his own tears. ‘You’re so—I got you one, too, hold on.’

He scrambles off the bed and fishes the gift out of the back of his closet, while Isla does the same, rifling through her bag. Back on the bed Isla goes first, handing him a small gift bag stuffed with red and green tissue paper. She tells him it’s not much but Niall knows without opening it that that can’t be true—that anything she gives him is coming along to America, to Europe, everywhere.

It’s wrapped up neatly inside the bag: a new, leather guitar strap, embossed with his initials and a series of numbers he doesn’t recognize. He blinks back the wetness in his eyes, as Isla reaches over and runs her fingers over it.

‘Coordinates,’ she says, fingers brushing the numbers. ‘Latitude and longitude for Mullingar.’

‘Isla,’ when he looks up all he can see is her, brown hair falling over her collarbone, lips chapped from his own against them. ‘Isla, this is too much.’

‘Wasn’t that expensive,’ she’s whispering, matching his tone. ‘Just wanted you to have something to remember this all by.’

Niall shakes his head, rolls his lips into his mouth. ‘Fuck’s sake, petal. You fucking nailed it.’

Isla laughs, hand coming up to cover her mouth and all Niall wants to do is kiss her, pull her into his lap, hold onto her, onto this moment, onto this spot, forever. Instead, he passes her the bag he’d been hiding behind him, hands shaking with nerves. He’d gone to Harrod’s for the first time in his life to buy it for her, spent hours wandering around a department store he had never even dreamt of being able to afford. Isla eyes the bag with surprise, knowing.

‘Harrod’s? Niall…’

‘Just open it, will ya?’

She giggles as she does and Niall can see that her hands are shaking too, that she’s feeling just as much as he is. His heart is in his throat watching her carefully undo the immaculate wrapping he’d paid extra for, watching her wriggle the top off the box, watching her face as she realizes what’s inside. She whispers his name and he almost cries, has to take two deep breaths to keep himself from breaking down.

‘Can I help you put it on?’ his voice drops back down to a whisper and Isla nods, holding the necklace out for Niall to take. It’s even more delicate than he remembers: a thin, silver chain, a tiny, solitary pearl placed in the middle. She turns around and lifts her hair up so he can clasp it, so he can watch as the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stand up at the touch of his fingers, at the brush of his breath over her skin. He gets it clasped easily, despite shaking hands, and then he bows his head and presses his lips to the back of her neck, soft, precious, and whispers against her skin, ‘it looks beautiful on you.’

‘You haven’t even seen it yet, you liar,’ she says, voice thick as she holds back tears.

‘Don’t need to see it to know,’ he presses one final, firm kiss to the back of her neck and then Isla drops her hair, turns around, and he was right, of course. It fits perfectly, falling so the pearl sits right in the hollow of her neck, sparkling against her skin. He shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants to keep himself from touching her. Deep breath, then, ‘so, that’s it, then?’

‘I guess so,’ Isla swallows thick, smiles sad. ‘Thanks for being the best first love I ever could’ve hoped for.’

Niall’s mouth feels dry, tears pricking at the back of his eyes and rising in his throat, threatening to spill over any second now. He doesn’t know how much he can say without breaking down, without making this worse than it needs to be. ‘I love you so much,’ he gets out on a sad laugh. ‘Even right now when we’re breaking up, I love ya.’

‘I love you too,’ she reaches up to run her fingers over the necklace, her eyes flickering down to Niall’s lips and then back up to meet his, wet with tears. ‘Can I say one last thing as your girlfriend? Before we call it?’

‘Anything.’

‘I just kinda wish you’d have let me come before you decided to stop and break up with me. A little annoyed about that, actually.’

Shocked, Niall snorts out a laugh, and Isla does too, the two of them matching each other until they’re both doubled over with it, laughing, crying, a mess of tears and snot and butterflies in their stomachs, hearts in their throats. Niall wipes at his eyes, collects himself as best he can, and tries it out: ‘I mean. I think I can do something about that, if you want? One last time, like? Before we call it.’

Isla rolls her lips in to hide a smile, but her dimples give her away. Confident, she steps forward, traces her fingers over Niall’s lower stomach, the shadow of his abs, the waistband of his joggers. ‘For old time’s sake,’ she smiles. ‘Before we call it.’

####

taglist: @stylishmuser @thicksniall @stayclose-holdsteady @niallhoranruinsme @ajayque @flickerswinehouse @1dfangirls35 @crocodileniall @halfpinthoran @awomanindeniall @booksncoffee

join the taglist here

#one direction #1dff #one direction fan fiction #niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan imagine #niall #OOF #posted this on the wrong blog at first BIG YIKES #sorry if you got the notif #sorry this is so late also!#It kinda took it out of me lol

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

ONE HUNDRED FIFTY THREE - CONVINCING (3)

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

FULL STORY MASTERLIST

ENDING THREE MASTERLIST

< previous

Word Count: 1,570ish

Summary: Fury tries to convince Bailey to let him recruit Peter.

~~~

By the time two am rolled around, my hair was up in a messy bun, there were eleven empty coffee mugs scattered around the place, and all the screens had new suit designs for Peter up. Glancing down at a sketch, I reached out and picked up the coffee mug that rested in front of me. I brought it to my lips and tried to tip some down my throat, but nothing came. I let out a long, tired sigh as I set the mug down. I leaned back, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples.

“When I saw the light on and the coffee machine up and running,” an old voice sounded from behind me, “I thought that we were being haunted.”

��If my Dad was going to haunt us, it wouldn’t be by working in the lab,” I joked.

“True. Very true.” Steve pulled up a chair besides me and sat down. He looked around the room. “I’m still not convinced that you two aren’t related by blood.”

I spun my chair around so that I was facing Steve. “You wouldn’t be the first. And I have a feeling you won’t be the last.”

Bucky and I had a small cottage built for Steve on the edge of the property. So that he could have his space but that we could all still be close. He frequently stayed in the room we had set aside for him in the Facility though.

“What’s got you up so late?” Steve inquired. “Is the kid in trouble?”

“No, I’m just trying to make up for the lack of me not being there for him.” I covered my eyes and looked down. “Gosh I sound just like him. I’m turning into my father.”

The old man chuckled. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But why do you feel that way? You’ve been mourning too. Not in the way most of us expected, I might add, but still.”

“Everyone has their own way of grieving.”

“Yes but, Bailey, I know you. I’ve seen you—“

“You knew me, Steve. So just, please, stop.” I shook my head as I turned back to my work. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumbled.

“Bailey…” He sighed.

“Drop it Steve. I’m not your problem anymore.” I began sketching. “What are you even doing up this late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes it helps if I’m not alone.” I nodded. Steve stood up and set a gentle hand on my shoulder. “You should get some rest... Please be better than Tony in that aspect. We don’t need another Ultron incident.”

“Good night Steve,” I said curtly, not even bothering to look up.

He sighed before leaning down and placing a kiss on my forehead. “Good night B.”

I kept working until a fell asleep not even a short while later. Bucky came in soon after, FRIDAY having told him that I had fallen asleep in the lab, and took me back to our bedroom. I woke up, curled into his side. He was already awake, brushing through the ends of my hair.

“Morning,” he sweetly whispered before holding a kiss to my hairline. I smiled and cuddled into him more. He chuckled. “I’m guessing last night didn’t go so well.”

“What would make you think that?” I mumbled into his bare chest.

“Well, since you went straight to the lab when you got home…”

I sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I figured you needed your space. So I just had FRIDAY wake me once you were asleep, if you hadn’t found your way to our room.”

“Steve came by last night… I feel like I wasted time designing a cottage for him. I think he’s slept there once.”

Bucky laughed. “I think he’s just missed us… For us, he was gone for seconds. But for him it was a lifetime.”

“Yeah… It was his choice though… He didn’t have to stay back.”

“True. What did you two talk about?”

“Grieving.”

“What? Why?”

“He mentioned that him, and others, are confused about how I’ve been mourning Dad and Nat… I may have gotten a bit mad at him… It’s still hard.”

“I know. It’s hard for him too. He’s still mad at himself for how it all went down.”

“I wish that I could move on faster… I just can’t… He promised me a future and then took it from me in a blink of an eye…”

“I know, sweetheart…” He kissed my forehead before resting his head against mine. “And he knows too.”

The rest of the day was spent training and doing paperwork. I also decided that I needed to start planning the opening gala for the new facility. Pepper and I agreed that Tony would have wanted us all to get together. The invite list consisted of government officials from all over the world. It was also also extremely important to Pepper and I that all those who fought with us that day were invited and their families. I choose a date about a month out. Pepper had promised to design the invites and have FRIDAY send them out by the end of the week. I was about to shut down my office and head to the kitchen for dinner when FRIDAY came over the speakers.

“Miss Stark, an unknown number is calling,” she announced. “They would like to video chat. Would you like to answer it?”

Confusion filled me as I wondered who could possibly be trying to video chat with me. I debated for a long few seconds before telling FRIDAY to put them on the screen. Low and behold, Nicky Fury showed up on the other end.

“Stark,” he greeted.

“Fury,” I responded. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need you to get Parker to answer my calls.”

I lightly chuckled. “I don’t control the kid.”

“Yes, but you are basically his sister.”

“I’m not his sister. And we’re not on the greatest of terms right now.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Definitely not helping you now.”

“Stark. There’s something going down and I need his help.”

“And you can’t ask any of the rest of us? Anyone else from ‘your team’? Or are the Avengers not your team anymore since the originals are either, dead, retired, or somewhere in space?”

“I need Parker on this. The rest of you need to continue doing what you’re doing, rebuilding the Avengers.”

“I’m not going to, he’s supposed to be going to Europe in a few days. He needs the break, don’t pressure him.”

“I have a report that something’s going to hit Europe in a few days, and it’s convenient that he’s going to be there too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Does Ixtenco, Mexico ring any bells?”

“There were some weird readings from there a few days ago. But it was just a cyclone.”

“The locals say the cyclone had a face.”

“Of course they did.” I sighed, looking down and shaking my head. “Please don’t ruin Peter’s vacation, he really needs it…”

“Can’t make any promises.” Fury stated before he hung up.

I was confused and irritated to say the least, but I really didn’t want to worry about it right away. A few days past before I noticed anything weird. Tony had created an augmented reality security and defense system a few years back, EDITH was the name. Even Dead I’m The Hero. He had told me that it was only to be used if danger was eminent and he was dead. I was in my office when I received a notification that EDITH had been activated and was targeting someone. I quickly went over to my screens.

“FRIDAY, who activated EDITH?” I asked.

“It seems that Peter Parker did,” FRIDAY responded.

“What?! How did he get a hold of EDITH and who is he targeting?”

“He was targeting one of his classmates. It seems to be an accident and has been dealt with.”

“I can’t even! Ugh!” I slammed my hands on the desk. “Who gave him EDITH?”

“I sent EDITH to Fury.”

“You what?”

“Tony instructed that EDITH be given to Fury to give to Peter at the time of his death.”

“And he didn’t tell me.” I threw my head back. “Why am I not surprised?” I let out a frustrated puff of air. “Get a hold of Fury on video chat. Don’t let him hang up.” A few seconds later, Fury’s face appeared on the screen.

“Miss Stark, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I thought I told you not to hyjack Peter’s vacation?”

“And I remember telling you that I couldn’t make any promises.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about receiving EDITH? And why did you feel it was necessary to give EDITH to Peter now?”

“He needed a push.”

“Let him be a kid, Fury! Too many of us have already lost our childhoods because this life was forced upon us. He doesn’t need to save the world today! There are plenty of other people who can do that right now!”

“I don’t think you’re emotionally stable to save the world right now.”

“I wasn’t saying me.”

“Parker’s already here and he needs a push.”

“Don’t pressure him into being the next Iron Man. He doesn’t need that.”

“He’s stronger than you think.”

“I understand how strong he is, Fury. I just believe he needs a break.”

“And I don’t. He’s the one that needs to do this… I understand you’re concerned, but I know what I’m doing.”

“Please don’t let him die. Cause if he does, you’re a dead man, Fury… He’s part of what I have left of Dad… He’s the reason Dad agreed to the time heist… Please don’t let him die.”

next >

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songsofloretto · 3 years

Text

Kieran gave me this earlier. I like writing for Kieran. He's a nasty bastard trying to turn his life around which makes him multi-faceted but as a character giving direction he's easy to 'feel'. Kieran never does third person perspective. His stories are always first person and written like a commentary.

Kieran, Nicky, Rory and Matthew

Sainsbury's, May 2021

"Uncle Kieran can I have these water pistols?"

It's been 30 years since I last took a child grocery shopping. It was bad enough in the 1980s with the kids wanting the sweets at the end of the checkout and all that. Fast forward to the 21st century and the problem has absolutely mushroomed, along with the size of supermarkets in general. Before I went to prison supermarkets only sold food. These days they sell everything from sun-dried tomatoes to fecking funeral plans. Nothing is sacred from these corporate giants. There are whole sections devoted to toys so there's no avoiding the inevitable pleas from children presented with their every wildest dream every time you call in for a pint of milk. Our Matthew's grandson is no different. The little lad is only four years old and to him this toy section is like every Christmas morning he's ever dreamed of all rolled in to one.

"Eh?" I say.

Rory lifts a box of four water pistols from the shelf and almost topples over under the weight of them. I grab it quick and steady him before he smacks his head off the corner of a shelf.

"Woah," I say to him, "steady on, our kid."

"I want these water pistols," Rory says emphatically, "there's four altogether. You, me, Uncle Nicky and Grandad can all play with them in the garden."

I look at the box. The pistols are nothing special. I've seen more power in a carrot. But the kid is right. It's a boiling hot day and perhaps an hour in the garden shooting each other up is exactly what this fecked up family needs to bond.

And who can say no to little Rory, who hasn't seen his daddy in over a year. Deaglan has been stuck in New York over this bloody pandemic, unable to get home to his son, missing out on all the drama we have going on here. The kid, innocently caught in the middle of it all, deserves a little joy in his life. I take a pistol out of the box and work my finger over the trigger, pretending to shoot, while Rory laughs and crouches down low.

"Aye you can have them," I tell him, and ruffle his hair with my fingers.

Right on cue the ever uptight Nicky slides up to us, almost falling over himself in his desperation to spoil any fun. He's swaggering about in his police uniform with a stick up his arse as usual. No tie or epaulettes but you can still tell he's an off-duty police officer. The cunt.

"I don't think so," he says rather efficiently as he plucks the box and the pistols out of my hands.

"What the f...Nicky!" I say, and pull the box back from him, "what's wrong with you?"

"I don't think it's appropriate for children to play with guns," Nicky says matter-of-factly.

"Aww!" Rory whines, "please, Uncle Nicky!"

His face creases and I can't bear to see him look sad. I know from experience that arguing with Nicky isn't easy. He's a jumped-up, self-important and arrogant little prick. In fact he's just like me when I was his age. It amuses me somewhat. I know that he'll get wound up like a clock if I challenge his decision - and I'm really trying to make friends with him, honest - but I've got to try and change his mind, for the little lad's sake.

"Well they're only water pistols," I say with a little shrug, "not gonna do much damage with them, eh, Nick auld fella?"

Nicky pulls a straight-laced expression and looks down his nose at me like a seasoned bloodhound would look at a yapping pup. He thinks I'm scum, I realise as we face each other off. He'll always look down on me like this, because in his bright, British eyes I'll always represent the dirty side of Ireland. I feel the vein on my temple flicker. I have to take a deep breath to keep my cool.

"It's not about any potential risk of damage," Nicky breaks the tension between us with a belittling little sniff, "it's about the psychology. Teaching children that guns are good fun and can't hurt anyone is a slippery slip. Before we know it he'll be twelve years old and shooting up his gym class."

"Fuck off Nicky, this is England, not America," I try to laugh off his point but he just keeps staring.

"And I don't think you, of all people, Kieran O'Driscoll, are in any position at all to be encouraging my nephew to take an interest in firearms," Nicky looks down his nose at me again.

I've been trying hard to handle his snooty arrogance for weeks. I really have. But something inside me snaps.

"Why?" I ask, squaring up to him, "because I was in the IRA? Is that it?"

I don't know what I'm doing. I'm 79 years old. Nicky is 45. I haven't got a chance against him in a fight, especially not with all his police training, but it's my pride that pushes me on. I have to stand up for myself, be a man about it. Teach this little arsehole a lesson.

"Yes," Nicky nods his head, "because you dealt firearms for terrorist organisation. And I don't want you playing with any sort of gun, imitation or otherwise, in front of my brother's son."

Deaglan is Nicky's own twin brother. They've never met. They were seperated at birth. Deaglan stayed in Ireland with Matthew, Nicky went to England with Kate. And now he fancies himself as the big Englishman, the creme de la creme of Britishness, superior above each and all other nationalities. And he spent his whole life loathing the Irish for putting his mother in a wheelchair. She was was a British soldier, victim of an IRA bomb, Newry police station, 1975. Sad story.

It was a terrible shock to poor Nicholas Jamie Hawley when he discovered that his father was not, as his mother always told him, a dead British soldier who died for his country in a halo of bullets. His father Matthew is in fact a proud Ulsterman who is very much alive and even did time for murder. Nicky's brain must have exploded inside his skull when it tried to digest this information. When he realised that half of him bled for Ireland it nearly knocked him sick.

But he had to get used to the idea because this pandemic threw us all together under the same roof, forcing us to learn to love and live with each other. And so here we are, factions of a long-estranged family trying to find common ground, and about to start fighting over water pistols in Sainsbury's.

"You'll never forgive me for being ex-IRA, will you?" I ask him.

"Never," Nicky lifts his chin, "once a terrorist, always a terrorist in my book."

"I did my time, Nicholas," I tell him, "27 years in a hell-hole of a prison. Oh Lord I suffered. And I'm deeply sorry for my transgressions as a younger man."

"Sorry will never be enough," Nicky whispers, "what your sort did to my mother..."

I close my eyes. I don't like think of it. And all over some water pistols to make the little lad happy!

The Voice of Reason enters stage left. Here is Matthew O'Driscoll, everyone's favourite peace-keeping fence-sitter. He spent an age parking the car and has only just joined us. He's as Irish as I am but everyone loves him, even Nicky, because...well because he's Matthew. Need I say more?

Matthew is astute. He studies the body language between me and his long-lost son and folds his arms, awaiting explanation.

"What's going on?" he asks.

"The wee bairn wanted a few water pistols to play with," I said, "and PC Gobshite over here has got an issue with it."

Matthew looks at Nicky who blushes a little as if he suddenly feels rather foolish.

"I didn't think it was ok," he says. His mouth is suddenly dry and he swallows, "to promote guns to a child. I'm in Loco Parentis for Rory. Deaglan has trusted me to look after him. I don't want to fuck it up and send the kid back to his dad thinking guns are ok. Because they're not. What would Deaglan think of me?"

He gives Matthew a slow look. Matthew nods his head. He is trying to understand Nicky's perspective. The man is nervous about all this family stuff. He's still reeling from the shock of discovering he has a family he never knew, that the family is Irish, that there is a man out there in the world who shares his face. Appearance and reputation is key right now. Nicky has never been a parent and suddenly, thanks to the pandemic, he's stepping in to care for his twin brother's son. He wants to do a good job. Of course he does.

It's interesting that Nicky never gives Matthew any stick about being Irish. Let's not forget that Matthew did prison time too. In 1994 he shot his own best mate in the head to stop the IRA from kidnapping and torturing him. We've never spoken about the fact it was me who ordered Brophy's kidnapping in the first place. If I'd have got my hands on Donnachadh Brophy all those years I'd have cut his balls off, fried them in Crisp N Dry oil, added little salt and pepper to taste and made the cunt eat them. But not now. I've mellowed out now. I'm not like that any more. I wouldn't hurt a hair on Brophy's head if he were alive today. And I don't deal in guns. Except water pistols because...well they're water pistols for feck's sake.

"You mean you've taken offence to Kieran handling a gun because he's Irish, is it that it?" Matthew asks.

"Not because he's Irish, per se," Nicky says, "but because of...it's because he has previous."

Matthew nods. The simple action brings calm to the situation. Nicky is feeling heard. He relaxes a little.

"I know you still suffer the fear of the IRA," Matthew says to him softly, "I know as a kid they haunted your dreams. You grew up thinking you had to protect your Mammy from them. But it's all in the past, Nicky. Wether we like it or not we're all together now and there are things we have to forgive each other for if we're going to survive this virus. And survive as a family. Because that's all any of us ever longed for, isn't it? It's time to let go, son."

Matthew takes the pistol from Nicky's grip. The police officer tightens but then releases his hold, surrendering control to the father he never knew he had, and letting go of the toy gun. It's very poignant, metaphorical moment. Makes the man in me uncomfortable so I try to inject some humour to make it bearable.

"Fecking hell," I scoff, "who do you think you are Matty eh? A walking example of the Good Friday Agreement?"

Matthew doesn't take his eyes from Nicky's face. A silent agreement is passing between them.

"Shut up, Ki," Matthew says without looking at me, "it's all right, Nicky. We're going to take these pistols home, fill them up with water and have a big old laugh together. Three generations shooting cold water at each other. And it will be safe, it will be ok. Because it's what families do together all the time."

"Ok," Nicky starts scratching at his arms in that way he has when needs to self-soothe with a wash, "we'll have a water fight. Together. But I'll need to get a shower first."

"If it makes you feel better," Matthew nodded.

He understands Nicky's need to be clean better than I do. I've never known a man so obsessed with washing his skin, changing his clothes, marinating in aftershave because unfamiliar smells upset him. As soon as you walk into the house we all share his first question is 'have you washed your hands?' He won't let you touch anything until you wash your own hands at the kitchen sink. Which by the way is a Belfast model. That little detail is lost on Nicky. It brings me a private sort of amusement.

Nicky's scratching intensifies. We'll have to hurry up with the shopping now because he has it in his head that he needs a wash and a preen. If he doesn't get to a shower soon he'll start getting all upset with himself. There's no time to argue now.

Matthew hands the pistol to the four-year-old whose innocence is responsible for bringing us all together. And then we all walk on, four abreast, to find the pint of milk we all came in looking for in the first place.

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souvercine · 4 years

Text

hey y’all ! i’m jia and i’m super excited for opening; i have two super clingy cats in case any of you ever need a visual pick-me-up, i’m a uni student in canada and a big skincare and dark chocolate junkie, more than likely gonna be typing replies while indulging in either jsyk !

tried to keep it short since i’m a rambly bitch, but xan’s basic stats and a proper wc page will be up soon as i just got home from grocery shopping and we open in an hour as of typing this, the theme as a whole will get a refresh eventually and i’ll be posting a little tracklist for her playlist later ! and if tumblr ims are as much of a nuisance for you as they can be for me, you can add me on d*scord at genuinely sick of this shit#2030 if you’d like to plot ! anyways, without further ado:

( samantha logan , cis female , she/her, twenty-four ) omg ! i was walking yonge street downtown , and you’ll never guess who i saw . xanthe lowe ! i just saw a post about them on sixsecrets ! i think it said something like “ when they go high, she goes lowe ! xan spotted leaving a gala with her former friend’s ex, after last week’s reportedly tense exchange between the girls ” . isn’t that wild ? i guess it makes sense through , since they’re apparently merciless and imperious . but i’ve heard they’re also conspicuous and astute ! i’ll just stick to giving them the benefit of the doubt . i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous socialite ! you know , i’ve actually heard rumors that redacted , but they’re just rumors … i think . i dunno . if you happen to run into them , tell them i’m their biggest fan !

tw: drug mention

when i tell you that i have so many muse posts i’m holding back on for this bitch —

which, btw, will all slowly see the light of day soon enough bc god knows i can’t articulate my muses’ personalities as well as i’d like so that shit makes up for it fdgslk

her parents’ eldest child together, xanthe’s also the oldest out of her and her siblings

also, never call her xanthe. friend or otherwise, don’t take the risk dklgsjdlk

grew up with a silver spoon, her dad being a wall street giant and her mother being an entrepreneur with a love for art ( so much so that her two partners after separating from xan’s dad were artists themselves sdlkgj )

thus she split her time between toronto and manhattan even before her parents’ divorce, she merely spent more time jetting back and forth for special occasions and vacations compared to when her parents were still together

mind you, she was probably still in the single digits when that became a new normal for the brat

basically could’ve been a main character on gossip girl with her reckless antics and partying as a teenager…. and now, even sgdlkf

drk how to elaborate on that, aside from stressing that from her teen years onward she’s presented her own take of a rich bitch, and is a socialite/fashion week regular type if i were to describe where she stands rn

i think a good mix of references would be nicky hilton meets the delevingne sisters meets blair waldorf and sabrina pemberton’s lovechild

she attended an ivy league at the behest of her father so he had at least one child who could take a senior position in his company simply to keep it in the family

.. before he realized what a Mistake™ it would be to put that responsibility on xan and now has her slightly older cousin as a backup instead GDSLFJKS but nonetheless !

isn’t the most studious person, but she somehow wound up graduating with a major in communications and a marketing minor

she reasoned that, with her reputation in the gta and nyc, she’d need the bit of knowledge in how to clean up her messes. even if she wasn’t the one who had that responsibility

though.. the entire time has been spent sleeping with some of her rich friends, drinking and smoking pot, with the occasional hit of whatever clean enough drug that one of her friends had on them

as of now, she’s pissing off her neighbours with her house parties wherever she might be at a given time, staying in the good graces of the media as a budding, fun yet classy heiress — despite doing dumb shit the second she’s inside of a gala or club

uhhh ik i had something else to add but a quick break for dinner messed that up, rip LKGFSJD

personality and shit

her little blurb on my indie is: refined party girl still set in her ways with her future left uncompromised; detached and pretentious, she soaks up the attention that continues to roll in

which. we’ve basically been over already lkdfsg but still

if i were to use a label to describe her, she’d be the sovereign

she’s messy as hell, but puts on the façade of a poised woman who has some fun because she knows it bodes well

she’s not a complete dick per se, but she can be snide and boastful

big superiority complex, independent and lives lavishly with reckless abandon

probably jets back and forth between nyc and the gta as it’s her version of normal, so ig she hates the environment if it means not having things go her way !

non-committal as all hell and will abandon girl code if she drops you fgkljfs

.. fr, she’ll fuck an ex-friend’s ex if she technically saw them first, so being spiteful and resolving some past attraction ?? right up her alley !

hence the choice of headline gdfslkj

keeps her true inner circle small, but gets off on attention and likes to stay cordial with some people, so she’s got quite a few friends all the same

she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect her image and won’t hesitate to throw anyone under the bus to do so/in retaliation if they screw her over

which happens to mean that her family is to be protected as well. fuck with any of her sisters ?? you’re done ! try to call out one of her brothers on twitter ? she’ll quote it with a single clown emoji as a warning

there really isn’t much to expand on tbh, though i will say that her emboldened nature and need for a good time however she can get it comes out more than her uglier side ( except her vanity. that’ll never go away ksfdg )

some quick plot ideas

a childhood friend or two that she made in either of her main hubs or through events she attended when she was young, whether they’re still friends or not for x reasons can be discussed of course

could carry over into a trio type of thing depending on where she stands with either of them, or they’re a different couple of pals she’s made in the last few years

enemies are always fun ! probably rooted in a competitive streak more than anything else but i’m all ears for a more complex reason

ex-hookup(s), current hookup(s), throw it all at me klgfjd

a hateship/ewb would be fun with her too, oh my god sfdgklj

it should go without saying that they are all relatively wealthy or well-connected kids here, but that doesn’t mean that someone who’s using her for their fifteen seconds of fame, or just to get some perks out of their friendship, is necessarily a write-off — not that she cares too much about fake friends, face value hype and knowing they need her more than she needs them gives her too much satisfaction fkskgls

an ex-something, open to anyone. either someone her parents forced on her to straighten her out that she wound up liking…. after a good period of her telling them to fuck off sdglk or someone she’d been seeing for a while at her own accord. would’ve ended the same way: with her calling it off because she didn’t want to settle down, not even for a relationship ( and perhaps bc she’s scared of commitment with her cracked family dynamic that’s been a thing since age two, but that’s another story jsdfkg )

#╰ 💎 . ❪ 𝐖𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐒 ↝ ooc #sixhqintro #me getting this done the second it hits 3pm pst ?? tragic when i've had ages to tuck this away in drafts LGDKS

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mouthtrashworld · 4 years

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HEAR ME OUT: PARIS HILTON INSPIRED ME TO GO TO ART SCHOOL

HEAR ME OUT: PARIS HILTON INSPIRED ME TO GO TO ART SCHOOL AND BECOME A FILMMAKER.

My sister and I played it cool until my parents dark purple grand caravan left the driveway. We knew we had to conceal our excitement of being home alone for a few hours in order to not seem suspicious. It was our chance to watch whatever trash was on television that day without the normal censorship our parents had set on us. My mother strived to win the gold medal for being a helicopter parent and my dad just agreed with whatever she said. Somehow we were always a step ahead of them. There was a vast lack of communication within my household which lead me to crave answers and sneak around to get them.

We really made a day of it. We pulled our big fluffy comforters off our beds and brought them to the couch, gathered every unhealthy snack from our cabinet (which was difficult as my mother kept a strict, low carb, low sodium, no sugar menu to chose from in our house) and hung heavy blankets over the windows to block out the glare on the 30 inch Panasonic VHS combo unit. My older sister, Cate, had control over the remote, she knew which channel number MTV played on and she memorized the Parental Control Password that was set on various channels that aired the exact rubbish it was to protect us from, but quickly became our favorite shows. At the time I didn’t even really know how Cate found out these shows existed. Our amount of media consumption was little to none. Living in a tiny town in Pennsylvania, attending private Christian school and hardly having a social life; our only connection to whats out there

would be the local blockbuster that my mother skirted us in and then quickly out of after renting wholesome family movies. I remember slipping away from my moms watch just long enough to find the “1 Night in Paris” sex tape DVD that was made in 2004 with Rick Salomon (who by the way has been married to Pamela Anderson TWICE!) and Paris Hilton as the star. A few years later, The Simple Life, featuring Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie became a huge success for Fox and was later taken over by E! network. The glimpse of the DVD cover was so scandalous I felt guilty just for looking at it. We were a few years late, really just catching the reruns of the show that E!, MTV or VH1 would play during the middle of the day, but we ate it up nonetheless.

The first episode I ever watched was on Season 5. The two girls become camp counselors and every week a different theme and set of campers come in to encounter their shenanigans. This episode was “Fat Camp” and the first order of business was for Paris and Nicole to give the campers enema’s before they start their week of dieting and exercise. It was absolutely ridiculous. I felt bad that these campers who fell victim to their bratty comments, yet my sister and I couldn’t take our eyes off it. Reality TV works in that way you know, where you feel bad, but not bad enough because its not your life.

Soon Cate and I started adding other reality shows to our pallet of rebellion. The Girls Next Door, a reality show about Hugh Hefner’s girlfriends living in the Playboy Mansion. Real World Cancun, AKA Jersey Shore before there was Jersey Shore. And of course The Hills where Lauren Conrad and Heidi Montag live it up in Orange County, a place I

thought was made up until I visited there in 2014. But the Simple Life remained my favorite of them all. But Paris Hilton was my first glimpse of glamour, so she always remained my favorite. Granted, Kim Kardashian has seemed to surpass her on many levels after starting out as her intern. And sure maybe Paris is an heiress who will never run out of money or resources and people behind her, producing her, but Miss Hilton found a savvy way to brand herself right at the pinnicale of the internet and she still had to work for it. As a filmmaker I am hyper aware of the way we consume media, which is why I’ve taken such an interest to Paris and this manipulation she had turned into an art form.

Before we go on, in case you don’t know how Paris got famous, I’m here to give you a brief backstory. Paris Hilton, heiress to the Hilton Hotels empire, was actually raised a lot like me. Her parents were strict. She wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or have much of a social life. I believe her parents knew what kind of name she bared and the harsh reality that could come with it, so they kept her on a tight leash. Despite their efforts to keep her tame she slipped away, out into the world long enough to meet famous photographer David LaChapelle, who became enamored with Paris and her sister Nicky, and insisting he take their photo. She knew it was highly against her parents rules to engage in that kind of activity but she went for it. He designed an elaborate set and costumes for them and they went ahead naively thinking the photos would be just for them to admire in private but were later were published in a 2001 Vanity Fair issue, getting her in a whole lot of trouble. She later had to turn down and offer to do Playboy because her parents would disinherit her. By the time she was 18 her career as a model

and professional partier could really take off. Paris became absolutely obsessed with fame. She came up with a formulated routine on how to grab the paparazzi’s attention. She would find all the places photographers would be hanging out that day and go to every single location just to be seen and her plan really seemed to work. She was the bright and shining star of every tabloid in America. She describes in the documentary film, “American Meme” how desperate she was, spending hours searching for a place with someone, anyone to take her picture no matter what it took. Her paparazzi access seemed responsible for Paris to become a household name. — add on?

We have to remember that this time, 2007-2009, was a turning point, as smart phones and blackberries were now in almost every American’s pocket and we were craving the tea more than ever. Tabloids started working around the clock to deliver us the latest scoop at the now possible all hours of the day; i.e. the tragedies of Amy Whinehouse, LiLo and her drug escapades, Britney Spears and her hairless melt down, the list goes on. We asked for it, we got it and kept asking for more. After Paris sought out these outlets, the offers poured in. Her own show, movie roles, modeling for brand name designers, she became a DJ, became an author, a business woman, a fashion designer she owns hotels in Dubai and is currently carrying a hefty 10.5 million instagram follower count.

I know what you’re thinking, like okay so who cares about this rich “bimbo” (dubbed courtesy of a New York Post article circa 2007) but just hear me out. Most of us can relate to her story and if not, at least to some of her tactics. What I grew to realize after becoming social media obsessed (possibly because I was deprived as a child) is that

no matter how information changes or what new technology comes to pass it along to us, we will always be doing it in the same way. I watched Myspace come and pass, seeing thousands of singers, bands and actresses get discovered through that site, even some playmates in Playboy magazine. I saw Facebook allow us to put every single thing about our lives on blast at any minute of the day. Twitter allows us to barf our thoughts up in once 180, now 280 characters, Vine stars made 6 seconds videos and now make 6 figures from their fame and last but not least Instagram, and trust me when I say I cringe having to say this, “influencers” sell to us with every photo or video they post. Whether that be a lifestyle, a product or just themselves as a person. A vast majority of us have to admit that we are drinking the juice. We ourselves are partaking in marketing our “best life” being lived via Instagram. So ask yourself, what is the difference between what we are doing on the Gram versus what Paris was doing in 2006, showcasing her persona to the media in the only way it was accessible at the time? Why not manipulate it the same way it manipulates us? Find out where the quote on quote Paparazzi are and market yourself the same way reality stars did.

Not that I have the intention to come up in the same way some of these heiresses who’s names are already famous or these vine stars or twitter comedians did but I have the power to show a portion of the world who I am and what I can do to earn my career as a filmmaker and communicator via social media.

I realized that what I was doing as a little kid, waiting for my parents to leave to seek a world outside my own is exactly what Paris did. She took the risk and got the answers.

Her obsession with fame coincided with my obsession with social media, to communicate and or get my work out there. I’m just trying to work system to brand myself. My research shows that the reality show we down load from an app store and place in our pockets has led me to some big wins. Upon getting hired for shoots or my work recognized in some way, I see there is a formula to the entire thing. When to post, how to post, who to follow, etc. I have no producers behind me to curate my Instagram, I have no connection to someone with a big name. All I have is myself to show for what I can do and if I keep going back to the place with the most access to the loudest voices , like Paris did I may have a shot at getting my own voice out there and I will say more important things than “thats hot” I promise you.

In the end I think that the reason I clung to Paris and her story so deeply was because it was virtually first and foremost example I had and to as impressionable young woman, that kind of thing sticks. The definition of success and how to obtain it was taught to me was by sneaking her show on a Saturday afternoon while my parents when to Shop Rite without me. I’ve just stayed observing all the ways fame has developed via internet and can lead to success. But the beauty of the defying gravity factor is that this blond “bimbo” and many other “bimbos” like her have done the same thing, most without the Hilton name. All I did was think twice before I believed that reality television was just a trashy phase. Instead I realized that I, like many others, am still consuming similar content in 2009 now in 2019, the difference is its in the palm of my hand and I’m deciding to take advantage of it.

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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Star, October 26

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Reba McEntire dating CSI: Miami star Rex Linn and finding love again at 65

Page 1: Duchess Kate Middleton stopped by England’s University of Derby to discuss students’ mental health and how the pandemic has affected their education but during her visit those watching couldn’t help but notice Kate looked more youthful than ever because of a new shorter highlighted hairstyle

Page 2: Contents -- Demi Lovato and pal Matthew Scott Montgomery were ready to be spooked at Nights of the Jack

Page 3: Vanessa Paradis and her daughter Lily-Rose Depp at the Chanel show during Paris Fashion Week, Tom Cruise looked a little leery filming a difficult scene on the set of Mission: Impossible 7 in Rome, Cara Santana repped boyfriend Shannon Leto’s band 30 Seconds to Mars in a sweatshirt from the group’s apparel line

Page 5: Chrissy Metz is so smitten with her new boyfriend Bradley Collins that she’s already talking marriage and babies with her Nashville-based beau and that has alarms ringing for some of her friends about why they kept their romance totally hidden until now and since Chrissy is all-or-nothing this is way too intense for some, fans of Law & Order: SVU rejoiced when it was announced that a spinoff was in the works that would star Christopher Meloni as Elliot Stabler and the new series called Organized Crime would feature Stabler leading a task force fighting NYC’s crime syndicates but the show has been rocked by behind-the-scenes drama as first showrunner Craig Gore was axed in June and now his replacement Matt Olmstead is also out leaving the future of the show in jeopardy, after a contentious season of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Denise Richards and Teddi Mellencamp are out and mainstays Lisa Rinna and Kyle Richards have proven they’re the alphas of the long-running Bravo show and now as producers are scrambling to fill out the cast one obvious contender is out of the running as Kathy Hilton has respectfully declined because her daughters Nicky Hilton Rothschild and Paris Hilton didn’t want her to do it because they felt it was a bad look for them and the family

Page 6: Sofia Richie and Scott Disick have split but she seems to still be taking her beauty cues from her time with the Kardashian-adjacent dad of three because she has noticeably fuller lips where she had lip injections to both lips, Mariah Carey had nothing but nice things to say about Derek Jeter in her new memoir calling their relationship sensual and credits him with helping her see the value of her biracial background but Derek isn’t happy about it and he’s fed up and feels Mariah is taking advantage of him to publicize her book and it doesn’t help that Derek’s friends have been teasing him about the sexy details because he hates being made fun of; his ego can’t handle his friends ribbing him, Star Spots the Stars -- Christina Aguilera, Kaitlyn Bristowe, Travis Scott, Teddi Mellencamp, Rev Run and his wife Justine Simmons, Lindsay Arnold

Page 8: Star Shots -- Anne Heche headed for rehearsal on Dancing with the Stars, Christina Milian and her daughter Violet, Gavin Rossdale at the beach in Malibu with his dog and a mystery woman

Page 9: Liev Schreiber plays basketball with his son Sasha in NYC

Page 10: Bachelor alum Catherine Lowe and her son Samuel, Reese Witherspoon jumping rope, Million Dollar Listing Los Angeles’ Tracy Tutor playing Monopoly at home

Page 12: Johnny Weir leaving Dancing with the Stars rehearsals, Brie Larson and boyfriend Elijah Allan-Blitz on a grocery run, Alessandra Ambrosio on her way to dinner in West Hollywood

Page 13: Selena Gomez shows her kidney transplant scar, Julia Garner filming scenes for Inventing Anna in New York City

Page 14: Chrishell Stause heading into rehearsals for Dancing with the Stars, Johnny Depp waved to fans outside the ZFF Masters during the 16th Zurich Film Festival where he promoted Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds with Shane MacGown, Patrick Schwarzenegger stepped out with a script in West Hollywood

Page 15: Silver fox Jon Bon Jovi struck a pose while promoting his new album 2020 in NYC, Shia LaBeouf went for a jog in Pasadena on the same day he was charged with misdemeanor battery and petty theft following an incident that happened in June, Maisie Williams at the Chloe fashion show in Paris

Page 16: Gwen Stefani stepped out of the studio in Woodland Hills, Chiwetel Ejiofor referred to his phone while reciting poetry on the set of the upcoming pandemic-themed dramedy Lockdown in London, Sting and his wife Trudie Styler celebrated his 69th birthday at a meal with friends in Rome

Page 17: Sofia Vergara out in L.A., Denise Richards and husband Aaron Phypers looked carefree leaving a restaurant in L.A., Danny Trejo hung out with an adorable pooch during an appearance on Home & Family

Page 18: Normal or Not? Machine Gun Kelly shared a glimpse of his beauty routine en route to his new cafe in Cleveland -- not normal, Eva Longoria wore a Vote t-shirt and a Biden mask during a political rally in Miami’s Little Havana neighborhood -- normal

Page 19: Snoop Dogg inhaled and exhaled during his DJ Snoopadelic set at the Concerts in Your Car event at the Ventura County Fairgrounds -- normal, while grabbing a meal in Los Angeles with a bevy of beauties Billie Dee Williams enjoyed a quick grooming session too -- not normal

Page 20: Fashion -- stars get glitzy in gold -- Olivia Wilde, Leona Lewis

Page 21: Karen Gillan, Kate Beckinsale

Page 24: Emilio Vitolo Jr. appears to be every inch the doting boyfriend to Katie Holmes but he’s playing the field behind her back -- Emilio’s a ladies’ guy and he’s been texting a bunch of girls saying things between him and Katie aren’t nearly as serious as they seem while Katie thinks she’s in love and it’s no exaggeration to say she’s obsessed with this guy and she’s adamant they’ll elope and in her mind they’re two kindred souls destined to be together

Page 25: Beyonce and Jay-Z are hoping to add on to their already impressive real estate portfolio as they are quietly checking out homes in Montecito in California for their family of five -- although they already own a $26 million home in New York’s tony Hamptons as well as an $88 million Bel-Air mansion the couple are hoping to put down roots in the American Riviera so their children can attend the area’s prestigious schools and Beyonce especially likes that it’s not far from L.A. and it’s clean and super private, after two years of dating Jake Gyllenhaal and Jeanne Cadieu are at odds about their future and Jake’s frustrated because the relationship is going nowhere and he’s eager to start a family but the 24-year-old model isn’t ready to put her career on hold and take that next step leaving Jake in limbo -- his most successful relationships were with women his own age with the same maturity and ambition like Reese Witherspoon and Kirsten Dunst -- while Jake remains conflicted about whether to stick it out with Jeanne or start over with someone new his friends say it’s time to move on and find someone who’s baby mama material, Jon Hamm has been considering settling down since he began dating Anna Osceolo because something about Anna is making him rethink everything from the guy who never pictured himself walking down the aisle or having children but now he and Anna are talking about marriage and a family

Page 26: Cover Story -- Reba McEntire finding love at last -- after a string of broken hearts the country superstar has finally snagged Mr. Right actor Rex Linn

Page 30: Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s courtroom showdown -- four years after their split Brad and Angie are still duking it out over custody and now they’re prepared to bring star power to the battle -- Brad will be using every scrap of ammunition he can to fight for his kids including testimony from fellow stars and Angelina is prepared to do the same

Page 32: Five-time rehab vet Scott Disick is caught partying in front of his kids

Page 34: Stars’ Cheating Confessions -- sometimes all you can do is beg for forgiveness; these celebs have all had to plead their case -- Jude Law and Sienna Miller, Kevin Hart and Eniko Parrish

Page 35: Donny and Debbie Osmond, Jada Pinkett Smith and Will Smith, David Letterman and Regina Lasko, Dean McDermott and Tori Spelling

Page 38: Beauty -- add a sophisticated scent blend to your fragrance wardrobe for fall -- Kim Kardashian

Page 40: Entertainment

Page 48: Parting Shot -- Chris Hemsworth and wife Elsa Pataky partnered with the Global Wildlife Conservation and Wild Ark to boost the ecosystem of their beloved Australia -- the pair helped Aussie Ark release 11 Tasmanian devils into a wildlife sanctuary at Barrington Tops National Park -- the hush-hush event marked the first time the endangered marsupials whose presence can help repel pests and bush fired were returned to the mainland in 3000 years

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