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treybriggsthewriter · 4 years

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This makes me nervous, but I’m going to post it. I’m going to try my best to achieve my goals. I’ve put in a ton of work already, so I’m looking for additional help.

From the campaign:

My name is Trey Briggs, and I'm a black woman who writes paranormal horror, speculative fiction, and other types of fiction. You can find my stories at MaybeTrey , Astrid the Devil , and on Instagram , Medium , and Wattpad .

My stories are aimed at black people who want to read dark stories that focus on original black characters that are complex and interesting. I genuinely believe Black audiences deserve a variety of genres to delve into, and I want to introduce them to paranormal horror, dark romance, and fantasy that they haven't gotten enough of in the past. I also believe that this can be done across multiple mediums, and I spend my money with black creative professionals to make these experiences extend beyond my words. For the last two years, I've run my stories on sites and Instagram to great reception. I like to craft complex experiences that offer looks at character backgrounds, side and backstories, full websites for each title, and more. I also provide encyclopedias, maps, audio journals, and other ways to get into each world. During these last few years, I've run into a lot of walls, jumped a lot of hurdles, and tried my best. I've worked with amazing black artists, voice actors, and actresses, musicians, designers, and more. I trust my ability to run a project, especially when it comes to planning and finding talent. My overall goal is to run a team of black creatives that crafts novels, graphic novels, audio experiences, and animated series for a dedicated audience.

Why I Need Help Long story short: I have the skill, I have the marketing/website building/business experience, and I have the drive. There's a lot I can do on my own, but there's also a lot that gets left behind because I don't have the money I need to proceed at a steady pace. I need help with funding so I can focus, hire the right people, and craft these stories the way they deserve to be crafted. I have thus far spent over $60,000 of my own money on my projects over the past two years - the writing and site-building are easy for me; the rest has to be hired out. I have art, site costs for hosting, domains, templates, specific plugins, and maintenance, audio (and vocal artists to pay), musical, and editing costs. I'm by no means rich or even particularly financially stable. I have taken on tons of extra clients for my digital marketing business, transcribed hundreds of hours of audio for dirt cheap, and taken out personal loans. I even worked a second full-time job along with my full-time business last year to afford to produce the content I love. It's starting to take a toll on my mental health. I plan on continuing to fund these projects out of pocket (and finding ways to do so), but having financial help, however big or small, would allow me to move a lot faster and with less stress. It would let me flesh out ideas and concepts that I have had to scrap because I can only physically handle so much extra work. I run a full-time marketing business from home, homeschool my autistic 10-year-old, and generally have a busy life. Some of the strain is taking a toll on me, and I don't want to give up. Having some financial backing could allow me to drop a client or two after a few months and focus on the work I love to do.

How You Can Help I mainly need a start—a sort of base. I want to emphasize that I plan to continue to provide the main bulk of funding for my projects. I know my goals are ambitious, and I know each step will take time and money. I welcome any help to make the process smoother and to get around the initial hurdles. I'd like to have ebooks and novels offered on my site by the end of the year (along with the free serials and stories). Funding means that I can broaden the projects, include more free aspects to my sites, and secure direct financing through sales of ebooks and audiobooks sooner. It also means that I can offer MORE stories, whether they are online only or fully fleshed out novels and sites. I am swamped with trying to work enough to cover all my bills and creative projects, so I lose a lot of time I could spend plotting and writing. If I have better funding, I can get my stories out quicker (and with fewer mistakes).

The Initial Stories Let's talk about my stories! If you're familiar with my work already, you can skip to the next section. My main story site is Maybe Trey . Currently, I have two big titles and a bunch of smaller ones that I am seeking help with funding: Astrid the Devil

Astrid the Devil is the complicated story of a girl who inherits not only her family's features and DNA, but their fears, struggles, and fights. It's the story of a condition called Devil Syndrome, the women who suffer it, and the monsters that devour them. It's the story of the fight to save the people you love at the expense of innocent lives. At its core, Astrid the Devil is the story of a woman who inherits the chaos of three generations before her. It's a look at what is truly passed down to our children, and how they're left to fight our battles in the aftermath of our failures. It's the tale of an indescribable monster and the women who struggle to defeat it. It's a journey into how their every decision could save or destroy an entire world. Astrid the Devil is the story of Astrid Snow, but her story can't be told without the story of the women before her.

Vicious: On MaybeTrey and The Vicious site (in progress)

Somewhere, a war is brewing. That's the only thing that's for sure to Junnie Gorton, a young horned girl suffering from a debilitating disease called Horn Rot. She typically dealt with her low survival rate and abnormally large horns by escaping the world with her best friend, Lewish. Now she's forced to figure out which side is which, save her entire species, and find out the truth behind the sudden uprising in her home. Horn Rot, a highly contagious and violent disease spreading through horned people, is causing mass amounts of madness and death. Normal horns grow in ways that will pierce, suffocate, and maim their owners, and the only one who can stop it is Junnie's mother, Lyria. As Lyria falls deeper and deeper into an anti-social revolt, the country reels. While Junnie broods, her entire species must prepare for mass extinction. Her brother plots with a group of people with less than good intentions and Lewish is quieter than usual. In a civilization brought up on extreme violence and competition, Junnie and Lewish try their best not to get swallowed by their culture, their lives, or their horns.

Bunni and Bosque :

Bunni lives. Bosque dies. We all know how this story starts. Bunni is obsessed with destruction and death. She comes from the healthiest Horned family in her country. She's from the oldest, purest bloodline in the world. And she's bored with it. Bunni spends most of her time trying to escape her duties as a pureblood. She wants things dirty, messy, foul, inconsistent. Having parents that are willing to kill to keep their bloodline pure is annoying. Knowing that she'll live a long, full life, produce more perfect children, and die unscathed is agonizing. Bunni wants something to mourn. We all know how this story ends. Bosque is destined to die an agonizing death, alone on his family's land. He's watched everyone he loved and grew up with perish. Sometimes it was because of their disease. Sometimes it was because of the malice and hatred of others. While he's absolutely withdrawn and satisfied with his life, Bosque has never had a chance to live it. He spends his days basking in the sun, bathing in wood baths, and contemplating the end. Bosque isn't interested in joining the rest of the world. He'd rather die out, alone, where his family belonged. Bosque wants to go peacefully. But neither expected to meet each other one day in a supermarket. Neither expected to fall in love, lust, and every vicious and dirty thing between. Neither expected to be so right for each other, all while being wrong for everyone else. You know the end of this story. Bunni lives, Bosque dies. But maybe something will change.

My smaller titles, Bunni and Bosque /Aite and Jude, can be found at Maybe Trey .

The Business Plan

The initial phase of my business plan is to get the sites populated with ebooks and audiobooks for sale. I also have prints that can be sold. Right now, I am in the audience-building phase while I save up for editing the full novels.

In terms of an actual business with which to publish the stories, I already have a registered publication company in Illinois: Wolfless Studios LLC. I took this step earlier this year with plans to self-publish Astrid and Vicious. So that is paid for and done.

I have also gotten initial editing done on the first six chapters of Astrid, though it will need to be edited from the beginning again once everything is said and done. I've spent over $1000 on that so far, and it would go a lot faster if I didn't need to save up to edit each chapter.

Astrid the Devil is fully plotted, outlined, and only needs the last three chapters. Bunni and Bosque and Vicious are newer, but plotted and already deep into character development (all being shared across social and Wattpad for audience growth). Aite and Jude and other shorts are plotted, and three other unshared stories are plotted and at the editing phase.

Other costs and ways I would use the funding (I would still put in my own money and do as much on my own as possible):

Initial $30K

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy edits for Astrid (currently at 250000+ words/expecting over 300000 at $0.02 rate)

$6000 - $7000 Line and Copy Edits for Vicious

$3000 - $4000 Line and Copy Edits for Bunni and Bosque

ISBN Purchases (Separate ISBN for each format for each book) - https://www.myidentifiers.com/identify-protect-your-book/barcode

Covers for Astrid/Vicious/B&B Print Versions

Site Hosting Costs and Maintenance for 2 Years

Site completion for all stories

Initial store and app development

40K - Marketing and Graphic Novels

Social, Print, and Web ads

Email Marketing Campaigns

Booths at Decatur Book Festival (depending on COVID)

Social ads and promos

50 to 60 pages

First two chapters offered as free promo with email sign-ups

Audio journals for each character

Situational audio journals

Encyclopedia for Astrid (finishing up)/Vicious

65K - Hires and Next Phases

Ability to hire a Full-Time Editor

Audio Series for each (professionally done)

Vicious Graphic Novel

Additional Title Added

Short animations for both Vicious and Astrid (with plans to fund more with book sales)

Fleshed out Story Sections (Novellas for each character of each series)

Short comic series with Astrid and Vicious side characters

Possible to plan out monthly subscription service with new stories and 'story package' deliveries

75K -

Astrid the Devil Graphic Novel

Vicious Graphic Novel

Astrid the Devil Animated Short

Ability to hire part-time Web Developer

Additional bigger title

Anything Over - I ascend into pure light. And also, I can add titles, cover more mediums, and eventually expand my publishing to other black creatives.

From there, I should be able to handle the funding via sales of books, comics, audio, and more. Again, I will always offer mostly free content across the sites.

I believe in proof of concept, and I have diehard fans on my social platforms. With no outside funding, I've been able to a lot on my own. I'd love to expand my business into one that does the same for other black authors, artists, voice actors, and animators somewhere down the line.

Thank you so much for your consideration. I appreciate all my readers, present and future, and I appreciate any help!

See incentives and more on the actual campaign: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-trey-publish-black-paranormal-horror-stories

Thank you so much!

#support black authors #writeblr #support black creators #black creators #original characters #original story #donate #buy black #black businesses #my writing #Astrid the Devil #Vicious #Bunni and Bosque #Aite and Jude #Trey Briggs the Writer #paranormal horror #speculative fiction #gofundme

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rivertellsstories · 6 years

Text

The Tuck family throughout the years

Word count: around 6000

Proofread: ha. Please tell me if there are words missing, it happens a lot

Summary: a prequel to the musical from Mae’s point of view

Warnings: Jesse falls from a tree (starts after ‘that’s just how parenting works’ and ends at ‘it wasn’t like Mae Tuck had never noticed…’)

The first time Mae had really spoken to Angus was when she was a tiny, but feisty eleven year old and he a clumsy twelve year old with two left hands. Of course she knew his name, because in this little town in the west, everybody knew each other.

She had been feeding the chickens on the farm when her father had introduced a gaggle of boys to her. None of them had been farmers’ sons and her father was kind enough to teach these children all about a farmer’s life. When these boys got married, they would probably be marrying into a farmer’s family and it would be a bit late for them to learn how to milk cows then. By letting these boys help him, her father killed two birds with one stone. They got education out of it and he a helping hand.

“Mae, could you tell them what you are doing right now?” The urge to roll her eyes became nearly unbearable, but she decided to be polite. “Feeding the chickens. Does one of you want to help me?” Some of the boys scoffed and one grinned. Typical. The lot of them felt too high and mighty to get mud on their shoes and approach a bunch of stinking birds. She felt sorry for the future wives of these boys.

“I’ll help.” A big boy said and Mae flashed him a smile. While he climbed over the fence and went toward her, she observed him. She noticed how he fiddled with his sleeves and the way he carried himself. Insistently he looked at the floor, as though he was hoping that it would swallow him. She handed him the bucket with food and watched as it slipped from his fingers and crashed onto the ground. Perplexed she blinked a few times and as she stared at him in bewilderment, his face coloured a deep shade of red. He kneeled to get the bucket while simultaneously getting mud on his pants and Mae groaned, while the other boys laughed in the background.

The malicious sound of their laughter made Mae glare into their direction. With her hands on her hips, she yelled: “You lazy bunch of good-for-nothings should shut your traps!” For a moment it shut them up, but then the snickering started again and some of them mimicked her stance while whispering in high-pitched voices. Frustrated, she grabbed Angus’ sleeve and pulled him along to the house. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I can’t handle this much stupid at once, so I’ll come along.” From a distance she could hear her father lecturing the boys and she smiled in satisfaction, though she still hated it that they hadn’t taken her seriously.

A few days after that incident, she ran into Angus again. Well, it was hard to not run into someone if they were in the same class as you. There were around fifty children in their class, all from various ages. The teacher didn’t get a lot done with his enormous group of students, but Mae had learned how to read, write and count so she was pretty much satisfied.

He was seated on the corner of a bench on the last row and the other boys on the bench were trying to shove him off of it. Irritation was painted across his face, but he still said nothing to them. Stubbornly, he kept pushing them back. The whole scene was so damned stupid that Mae couldn’t help but comment on it.

“You know, if you all stop pushing and pulling, you could all sit comfortably on that bench. Hell, I could join you all and there still would be space enough.”

“Are you that desperate to join us sweetheart?” a boy named William leered. Unimpressed she gave him a onceover. “No, I have more class than that. I just saw you all being stupid and thought that it would be kind of me to help you all out.” Immediately after that sentence she turned around and took her usual seat in the front. The whole lesson long, the boys she heard the boys whisper but paid them no mind.

That afternoon, she found herself at the river just outside her town. Those boys had gotten tired of gossiping about her and had taken to tugging on her hair. It had been grating on her nerves, but she was far too proud to even spare them a glance. As she watched the river slowly lapping at the shore, she calmed down. People were and would always, be kind of stupid. Life was just trying to figure out how to deal with all the different kinds of stupid you met.

Behind her, she heard a branch snap and someone breathing a soft “Oh.” As she turned around, she recognized Angus. Her eyebrows shot up in confusion until she saw the fishing rod in his hand and remembered that he was the son of a fisher. He gave her an awkward wave and said: “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

She tilted her head in confusion. “Why would I want that? I don’t own this place.” He shrugged. “I feel like we’ve ran into each other an absurd amount of times this past week and I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I swear I’m not following you around.”

“That’s considerate of you. Your presence doesn’t bother me, so feel free to…” she gestured at the river. “fish or something.” Nervously he nodded and picked at his shirt. “I’m not very good at doing things when people are watching me.”

“Well then”, Mae said and a smile tugged on her lips,“ I suppose that you’ll have to get used to my presence then. Let’s be friends.” She mimicked tipping a non-existent hat. “Mae Miller, pleasure to meet you.” He curtsied clumsily and she laughed. “Angus Tuck at your service.”

Over the years, Angus and Mae became regular appearances at each other’s houses. Angus had become quite skilled at feeding chickens by then and James, Angus’ father, had dubbed Mae an expert fisherwoman. Seventeen year old Angus had also grown out of his gangly awkwardness and had become, as Mae’s mother put it, a most handsome and capable young man. Mae had snorted at that comment and Angus had kicked her underneath the table.

Angus’ mother had called Mae a gentle and most beautiful lady. Angus had laughed out loud at that and she had chased him around his house with a fishing rod. Just as she thought she had cornered him, he opened the door and escaped. She could have given up at that moment, but stubborn as she was, she let out a war cry and followed her friend.

At the river, they collapsed underneath a tree. As she laid her head on his shoulder, she gave him a half-assed tap on the head with the fishing rod. “You deserve that. For being mean.”

She got a snort in return. “Excuse you. You also made fun of me when your mom complimented me.” With a smile dancing around her lips, she squished his cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t agree with my mother. You are a most handsome man, but it’s the ‘capable’ part that got me. I got instant flashbacks to our first meeting.”

Groaning, he laid his head upon hers. “Erase that from your memory please. Forget it ever happened.” As she answered him with a: “No way, that’s my best memory of you”, he got up and took the rod out of her hand. With fondness she watched as he wrote with it on the wet riverside. Angus loved to write poems on the wet sand and watch the water erase it forever. Mae held this knowledge close to her heart and wondered if he would ever tell her what he wrote down. She could never decipher his writing but hoped that maybe one day, he would tell her.

Suddenly, a smug smile broke through his pensive demeanour. “So you think I’m handsome huh?” For a moment she was confused as to what he was talking about. Then it hit her and she shrugged. “Duh, I have eyes.” She’s not going to stroke his ego by blushing and stuttering, though she felt like her heart was going to leap right out of her chest. “But I’m not the only one. If I have to listen to Catherine Davis talking about you one more time, I will fling myself into this river.”

The annoyance on her face made him laugh. “I suppose you don’t have the trouble of people talking like that about me.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got many friends beside you, Mae.”

“Even if you did, I doubt that they had anything nice to say about the redheaded goblin girl.” With a frown on his face, he sat down beside her and jostled their shoulders together. “Hey, hey. What’s that face for?” he asked as he gently poked her cheek. “I don’t know”, she said listlessly as she held a fiery red curl between her fingertips. “I just feel…less than the other girls. I feel as though I’m too annoying, as though my laugh is ugly and my hair too red. I feel as though being less visually appealing makes me less of a human being to other people.”

She let out a choked laugh. “Isn’t that funny?” she asked with tears brimming her eyes. “Mae Miller” he breathed and wrapped his arms around her. Immediately she buried her face in his chest and hoped that he wouldn’t notice that she was crying. But her shoulders jolted as she sobbed and he hugged her tighter. Being in his arms was warm and soothing and slowly she calmed down.

As she withdrew herself from his arms, she apologized. “Sorry. That was a bit overdramatic of me, I believe.” The sentence made him glower. “Like hell it was. You listen to me Mae Miller and listen well. First off, whoever made you feel this way can go to hell. Second off, sometimes you are annoying, but you annoy me in the best way possible. You’re fierce, stubborn and gentle at the same time and it’s amazing. Thirdly, your laugh isn’t ugly. You may sounds like a dying pig, but it’s cute I swear. And lastly, your are gorgeous.”

In the way he set his jaw, she knew that he was ready to argue about it for hours if needed. “I’ll accept that I’m awesome”, she said and Angus pumped his arm in victory. “But I stand by the fact that red is an ugly colour.” When she saw his raised eyebrow, she knew that he had taken the sentence as a challenge. “I’ll make you eat those words”, he promised her.

It was barely six in the morning and someone was tapping on her window. Confused and still sleepy, she got out of bed and walked towards her window. When she saw Angus’ face, she looked at the fishing rod on her wall. It had been a gift for her twelfth birthday. She hadn’t been friends with Angus that long at that point and he had been quite clueless about what to give her. Over the years the rod had become an object that she connected with fond memories. It would be a shame if she broke it while whacking Angus over the head with it, but it would also be a beautiful tribute to their friendship. The handing over of the fishing rod would become a full cycle as it got reunited with its first owner.

Sighing deeply, she opened the window. “What are you doing here? The sun isn’t even up yet.” He gave her a self-satisfied smirk. “Exactly. Now get some clothes on and come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” The protest died in her throat as she heard the excitement in his voice. “Give me twenty minutes”, she groaned.

Twenty minutes later, she and Angus were sitting on a hill, a blanket underneath them and a basket between them. “Angus, what are we doing here?” she asked and he shushed her. “Wait”, he told her and passed her some bread from the basket. As she slowly munched on the fresh loaf of bread, the sun started to rise.

A gentle red coloured the sky and Mae forgot to breathe for a moment. Soon other colours followed and various shades of red, orange and yellow danced across the sky. The chill morning air and the chirping of birds, combined with the taste and smell of fresh bread turned this sunrise magical in a way that Mae would never be able to describe. “Oh Angus”, she sighed. “This is stunning.” As he watched sunbeams highlight her freckles and morning light set her red hair ablaze, he breathed a quiet: “Yeah.”

Angus’ eighteenth birthday was coming up and Mae had a vague idea about what to get him. The only problem was that to get her gift, she had to leave town. To make the surprise bigger, she decided to not tell Angus that she would be gone for a few days.

When she returned, she had a hard time finding him. This was both confusing and worrisome at the same time, because she thought that knew Angus well enough to tell where he would be by now. What was even weirder to her, was the fact that Angus’ mother had refused to talk to her and had slammed the door as soon as she saw Mae.

There was one place she hadn’t checked yet and she felt kind of dumb when she found Angus there. Of course he would be at the river, scratching poems into the mud. She frowned when she saw the bitter expression on his face. “Hey Angus, what’s going on?” she yelled and when he turned to face her, she saw tears on his face. Within seconds, she had his face in her hands. “Who?” she asked furiously. “I thought you decided that I wasn’t worth the effort anymore”, he confessed. “I thought you left.” While swallowing her own tears down, she reassured that she wouldn’t, hell she couldn’t, would never be able to leave him. “Angus Tuck, you’re one of a kind. There’s no way you’ll ever get rid of me.” She pressed a packet into his hands. “I was actually getting this for you. Eighteen tomorrow huh?” With shaking hands he opened the present, unveiling a sketchbook and a set of pencils. “Now you can write your poems down, if you want to.” He stared at the present for a long time and Mae started to get worried. “Angus? You alright?” He threw his arms around her and spun her around enthusiastically. “Mae Miller, you’re amazing.”

“Mae, I need your help”, nineteen year old Angus said as he stormed into her house. She looked up from the table she had been setting and saw her friend wiping his undoubtedly sweaty hands on his trousers. “Hello Angus”, Mae’s mom chirped and gave her daughter an big wink. Mae stared at her mom in utter confusion before turning towards her friend. “Whose body do I need to bury?” she asked grinning and her mother bristled. Angus ignored Mae’s mother and blurted: “Teach me how to dance.”

For a moment she was confused, but then she remembered that within a week the spring festival would be held. “Angus you sly dog”, she grinned. “Are you planning on asking a girl to dance on the last night of the spring festival?” Asking someone to dance with you then, was like asking their hand in marriage. He nodded. “Yes. I’m planning on asking the best girl of all.” The words made something inside of Mae twist and churn, but she decided to ignore it. “Well then big boy, auntie Mae will make sure that you don’t stomp on her feet too often.”

“Angus, what are you doing?” “Dancing” he huffed in a frustrated manner. He was getting impatient but there was no way that Mae was allowing him to enter the dance floor with his current skills. She told him that he was dancing off beat and he grumbled that there was no beat to be off to. “Wait a minute”, she said and let go of his hands. When she returned, she had a music box in her hands. “Here’s your beat.”

Admittedly, it went way better with the gentle music playing in the background. “You’re doing rather well”, she told him and he grinned. “Should I try anything fancy? Maybe dip you or something?” “Absolutely not”, she laughed. Twirling through the living room with Angus’ arms around her felt pleasant. His body was warm against hers and she swore that she could feel his heartbeat. When their eyes met, she shivered and the grip he had on her tightened the tiniest bit. “I think you’ll do great”, she managed to say and pulled back. “Good luck with asking your girl.”

The evening of the dance Mae pestered Angus to go seek his girl. “Man up Angus Tuck and ask her!” He gave her a confident nod and strode away and came right back. “Angus, what are you?” Mae stared in confusion until he held his hand out. “May I have this dance?” For a moment she was completely and utterly speechless. Then she threw herself into his arms with a dazzling smile. “Yes Angus. I personally give you permission to ruin my toes again. I love you, you big doofus.” Before they got to the dancing part, they were already kissing.

There was something different about todays twenty year old Angus Tuck and Mae couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was. He had been grinning and smiling all day and whenever she asked about it, he rebuffed it. Her and his parents seemed to be in on it as well and they wouldn’t give anything away either. It was frustrating to say the least.

Seeing her mother’s music box in Angus’ hands was what finally gave away what was about to happen. Her mother had told her how Mae’s grandmother had given it to her daughter’s future husband. The day of the ceremony itself, Mae’s father had given it to her mother. Now, Mae’s mother had given it to Angus and Mae couldn’t be happier.

It was late in the evening and Angus had taken her to the river. Out of his pocket he got the sketchbook she had given him for his eighteenth birthday. This was the first time he allowed her to read one of his poems and anticipation built in her chest as he started to speak.

“April’s kiss, our very first

May there be more to come

In true love I’ve been immersed

And each day, I’ll give you some

You knew it all along

So did I

It was plain to see

April, May, June, July

A Sunday when the chapel’s free

True love is in short supply

Darling Mae,

Marry me”

“Yes” she breathed and kissed her future husband deeply. “Gods yes.”

The news spread fast. Everywhere they went, be it alone or together, people wished them luck with their future marriage and although she got these wishes on a daily basis, she never got tired of them. People whom she had known all her life were congratulating her and it filled her with warmth. Girls who had been in her class stopped her on the street, smiling as they told her about their own wedding and older ladies and mothers told her all about the joys of motherhood. She welcomed every piece of advice about that topic with open arms.

Angus got winks and secretive smiles from the other villagers as well. He went a step further than she did and actively sought out older, married woman to ask them how to be a good husband and listened intently as grandmothers told him fondly about all the little things that made starting your own family so enjoyable.

“Last chance to run lad” an older man had said and Angus had shot him a confused look. “You’re getting tied down soon buddy, this is your last chance to run. Run, or its bye bye freedom and hello to your wife.”, he clarified and Angus had smiled wide. “Wife.” He repeated, letting the word roll around in his mouth before he repeated it louder with a beaming smile. “I’m getting married!” he yelled and ran towards her, picked her up and spun her around. “I’m getting married and you’ll be my wife. I will be your husband.” He was stating obvious facts, but the giddy and obviously elated way he did it, made Mae grin as well. “Indeed. Mae Tuck has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” Angus didn’t stop smiling for the rest of that day.

It was a night in November when they tied the knot and Mae spent the day drunk on utter happiness. She remembered her mother braiding a blackberry bow into her hair, whispering about how her child was growing up. The tears were evident in her voice and Mae had forbidden her from crying with tears in her own eyes. “No crying on my wedding”, she choked out. Mother and daughter hugged before she walked down aisle.

The one who broke the no crying at the wedding rule first was not her mother, but her husband to be himself. As they met before the altar, she gently wiped away the tears on his cheeks. “If you start crying, I’m going to cry too. Stop that you doofus.” He gave her a watery smile. “I’m just so damn happy.” As tears streamed down her face, she chuckled. “Me too.”

They exchanged their vows and had to keep themselves from giggling while doing it. When she was fifteen she had told Angus that vows were stupid and he had agreed. She had it elegantly put it this way: “I don’t give a damn about what he promises me in front of a priest. It’s the everyday life that’ll make me appreciate my future husband, not his fancy words at an event that happens only once in our lives.”

“Mae Tuck”, he started and gave himself to smile about it. “Mae Tuck”, he repeated “You’ve grown on me. Or rather, you stubbornly attached yourself to me and never let go. I love and admire you and I don’t think anything will change that. I look forward to building a life and family together with you, I look forward to waking up next to you, I look forward to…you. And I always will.”

She opened with: “My dearest husband” and Angus gasped at that. God, she loved him. “I look forward to looking back.” The sentence seemed to confuse him, so she explained: “One day when I’m old and grey, I’ll be sitting in a rocking chair as our children and our grandchildren play in our garden. I’ll take your hand like this.” She gently his hand and squeezed it. “and reminiscence about everything we’ve done together. I can’t wait till that day, where I can’t tell my grandchildren about all the times you’ve made me happy in one afternoon, because there will be way too many.”

The two of them were so busy staring at each other that they barely heard the priest say: “You may now kiss the bride.” The kiss they shared was one they would cherish forever.

That night her father danced with her and told her this was one of the best moments of his life and Mae couldn’t agree more.

Roughly nine months later, Angus knocked on the Miller’s door in a state of panic. As Sarah, Mae’s mother, opened the door, he gasped: Mae’s giving birth. Please help.“ Within minutes a bunch of older women were helping his wife. They had tried to get him out of the room but he had refused. "Like hell I’ll leave her alone right now”, she heard him say and she giggled through the pain.

A long nine hours later, she was tired out of her mind and her both her husband and new-born were crying. Between his tears he managed to say: “Another milestone in our relationship.” He looked at her with shimmering eyes. “Let’s call him that.” She sat herself up and glared at her husband. “Angus, we’re not calling our son milestone.” He shook his head. “No not milestone, have a bit more faith in me. Miles. Let’s call our boy Miles.” That night she fell asleep with her little Miles tucked between her and her husband.

Miles definitely took more after her than after Angus. But he was way more himself than he was either of them. The stubbornness, that was all her and his studiousness was definitely from Angus’ side. But the things that made Miles unmistakably Miles were his blunt and sharp words. He was polite (they raised their boy right after all), but not interested in faking interest in people or topics he wasn’t interested in. He said exactly what was on his mind and it was both frustrating and endearing.

Five years later, they were blessed with another child. A few days before the child was born, Miles decided that he was going to hate ‘it’ with all his might. The then family of three had sat together and she and Angus had pried until they knew why Miles was so intent on hating his future sibling. “Lizzie says that parents make another child because they aren’t happy with the first.” Her son burst into tears after that and she placed him on her lap and hugged him close. “Oh honey, that’s not true at all. I love you dearly. Daddy and I just thought it would be swell for you to have someone to play with.”

“I already have Rose to play with”, he sulked, “and I’m five and babies are…not.”

Her husband kissed their son on the forehead. “That’s true Miles. But the baby will take a lot of attention and you can help if you want to. Also, never doubt that mommy and I love you. If you ever feel like we’re ignoring you or you want attention, just tug on one of our sleeves. We’re here for you Miles and we’ll always be.”

Miles hiccupped and nodded. “Okay then. I’ll judge it-” “them”, she corrected her son and he pulled a pouty face. “It”, he stubbornly continued. “When it’s born. Acceptable?” It wasn’t ideal, but at least he was willing to compromise. “Acceptable.”

Another baby boy joined the family, Angus cried again and Miles watched his little brother with distaste. “He’s…” Miles seemed to be considering his next words carefully. “Jucky”, he decided and her husband messed up his hair. “We have to wash him dummy.” Miles exited the room immediately with the sentence: “Good luck dad.”

Later that day, Miles climbed on her bed again and watched his brother with curious eyes. “He’s less jucky now”, he said and poked the baby’s cheek. At that moment, he opened his eyes and he and Miles stared at each other. Miles broke the silence. “He can’t do a lot, can he? He’s tiny, dumb and immobile. I’ll have to take very good care of him, don’t I?” Although he had insulted his brother, she heard the affection in his voice and silently, she was proud of him. “What’s his name?” Miles asked, still looking at his sibling. “Daddy and I thought that it would be nice if you chose a name for him.” Miles looked at her in surprise. “Really?” She nodded in confirmation and Miles pondered over it. “Jesse then. His name is Jesse.” The name rung a bell in the back of her mind, but she didn’t know exactly where she had heard the name before. “Jesse is a wonderful name, Miles. Thank you.”

A few days later, Mae left the house with Jesse in her arms. As she exited the door, she heard Rose, their neighbours’ five year old, yell: “Jesse, come here! Here, Jesse, here!” Totally confused she looked at her son in her arms and then she scanned the surroundings. When she laid eyes on Miles, Rose and Rose’s dog, everything fell into place. “MILES TUCK” she screamed. “TELL ME YOU DIDN’T NAME YOUR BROTHER AFTER YOUR NEIGHBOUR’S DOG!“ The guilty look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Jesse and Miles couldn’t be any more different, but Mae Tuck loved her boys nonetheless. Jesse was a naïve kid with an ever-present smile on his face, ready to believe everything people tried to sell him. Miles was a natural scowling sceptic, but both boys shared a curious nature. The could bicker for hours but if both of them wanted to know or do something, they got it done in record time.

The year Miles and Jesse turned twenty-two and seventeen respectively, they left their little town in the west to settle in the east. Miles had been grumpy for the whole journey and Jesse wouldn’t stop pestering him. She suspected that Miles’ foul mood was because he had to leave Rose behind. The two had been steadily growing closer and she felt sorry for her oldest son, but their farm had gone up in flames and they had wanted to move eastward for years.

When they were the thirstiest they had been during the trip, they stumbled upon a spring. Before she could stop him, Jesse jumped straight into it. Miles had a little more reservation and kneeled down to drink. While he was drinking, Jesse pulled him into the spring as well and both boys started to fight like little children. Mae watched them with a fond smile and decided to drink as well. Next to her Angus sighed and joined his family as well. The worst this spring could probably do was get one of them sick for a week.

Barely a year later, Miles and Rose were reunited. It had been a lazy Monday evening when somebody had knocked on their door. “I’ll get it”, Miles had sighed and when he opened the door, Rose had kissed him smack dab on the lips. For the first time in her life, Mae saw her oldest completely speechless. Her husband snorted in amusement and told Miles: “Let the lady in, you fool. I raised you better than this.” Miles nodded dumbly and stuttering, he offered her a chair.

That evening Rose told them that her old town held no future for her, so she decided to leave. “That town didn’t have what I wanted, so I decided to look for my fortune somewhere else”, she said as she slyly eyed Miles, who turned an interesting shade of red. “That fortune being my brother’s-” “JESSE”

It came as a surprise to nobody when Miles and Rose showed up with matching rings and smiles. With tear-filled eyes she congratulated them and kissed her son and daughter on their cheeks.

The day of the marriage, she braided her own blackberry bow into Rose’s hair. The girl’s own mother didn’t approve of her daughter’s actions and had decided that she wanted to break ties with her daughter. “Rose darling, I want you to know that, even though I wasn’t the one who gave birth to you, you are my daughter and you will always be. You’re a Tuck now and Tuck ties are everlasting. The young woman kissed her cheek and whispered: "Thank you mom. I love you.”

When Thomas was born, Mae saw Angus in Miles more than ever. Just like her husband, her son cried as he held his new-born child and through his tears he smiled and vowed to do everything in his power to protect his child. Jesus Christ, she was a grandmother now.

Everything was perfect and Mae found herself wishing that this moment would last forever.

Miles was a loving, but strict parent. Every day he taught Thomas new things and the lessons always started at twelve o'clock sharp. Today, the bouncy seven year old had managed to escape out of his father’s clutches and ran away screaming, Miles hot on his trail. The two of them zoomed through the garden and Thomas yelled for Jesse’s help. Never one to say no to his nephew, Jesse ran past Thomas, gave him a quick high-five and ran straight towards his older brother. “You’re going down Miles!” he screeched as he tackled him to the ground. Thomas had also turned around and just like Jesse, he sat down on his father.

“Dad, we’ve got you! No more lessons for me!” the kid whooped and Miles groaned. “Oh no, I’ve been caught” Miles sighed and played dead. “Noooooo!!!!” Thomas squawked. “You can’t die daddy. Never!” From beneath his son and brother Miles wheezed: “That’s a bit hard kiddo. But I’ll promise you this: I will always be there for you.” Thomas looked at his father with the wide eyed look all children seemed to possess up to a certain age. “Promise?” he asked and Miles pushed Jesse of his body and snuggled his son close. “Promise buddy.”

Something unreadable crossed over Rose’s face, who had been watching the scene unfold as well. “Something wrong, honey?” Mae asked and Rose shook her head. “No, just thinking.” Mae watched her with curiosity. “Worrying that hard will give you wrinkles, love.” Rose looked at her husband and son and she seemed to make a decision in her head. “I was just thinking that I would do anything to keep Thomas safe.” Mae gave her an affectionate pat on the head. “You and Miles both, love. That’s just how parenting works.”

Everything seemed fine until Jesse fell from the tree in Miles’ backyard and as she caught the moment her youngest son’s body made contact with the ground with a sickening sound, she screamed. Within seconds, she was seated beside him and as she lifted his upper body from the ground, his head lolled back lifelessly. With shaking fingers, Miles reached out towards Jesse. “Mom?” his voice sounded so small and instantly she was reminded of him and Jesse playing as children in their old yard. “Mom is he…” Miles couldn’t get the word ‘dead’ over his lips. Rose, who hadn’t seen what happened came closer. “What is going-oh my god.” She softly tucked a few strands of bloodstained blond hair behind his ear. “Jesse”, she breathed and Mae could hear the pain and sadness Rose felt as she looked at her younger brother’s body. Mae herself felt numb. There was no way that Jesse, her youngest, was gone already right?

With a cough, Jesse shot up. “Fuck!” he yelped. “That hurt!” While he was busy spitting out blood, the realisation that he had survived falling from a great height while landing on his head. The same disbelief was painted over Miles’ and Rose’s faces, but what could they do?

It wasn’t like Mae Tuck had never noticed that she looked really good for her age. This seemed to be a shared family trait, as her husband and sons seemed to be ageless as well. It could be considered a blessing, until the moment Jesse barely looked older than Thomas and Rose had almost as much grey hairs as Mae herself.

One day, Mae came home to her oldest sitting at her dinner table, hands in his dark brown hair. “Miles?” she called out and when he looked up, his face crumpled and he broke into tears. “They’re gone.” She wished that she didn’t immediately know what he was talking about. Rose had done what she considered the best for her child.

Hopelessly, she tried to console him. At that moment, Jesse entered the room with dishevelled clothes and rapidly healing bruises on his face. Without him telling her, she knew that he had taken a fall again. She didn’t want to think about the fact that it may not have been a fall at all.

As she sat there with her boys in her arms and her husband nowhere in sight (he was probably sleeping again. As of late, thathad been happening a lot), she hoped that time would heal their wounds. Time. They had plenty of it now and Mae wondered if it was worth it.

#tuck everlasting #tuck everlasting musical #mae tuck #angus tuck #miles tuck #jesse tuck #thomas tuck #rose tuck #fanfic #rivers stuff

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vorthosjay · 7 years

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The Elder Dragon Cold War

Among the oldest beings in the Multiverse are the elder dragons. A race of dragons with vast magical powers and supreme intelligence to go along with it, they existed before recorded history on Dominaria, and across the multiverse (also known as Dominia). But dragons aren’t the sharing type, and something happened to make the elder dragons turn on their peers. Thus we enter, the Elder Dragon War.

Nicol Bolas by D. Alexander Gregory

Most of what we know (officially) about the Elder Dragon War is what’s included in Nicol Bolas’ Profile:

Witness to countless wars, cataclysms, and rivalries, Bolas is one of only five elder dragons to survive the Dragon War.

Those five elders saw print waaay back in Legends. Those five survivors we not necessarily friends, however (although they refer to each other as siblings or cousins). Palladia-Mors became jealous of Chromium’s friendship with a young human girl, and went on a rampage that forced Chromium to put her to sleep for 80 years. She was awoken, in part, by the machinations of Vaevictis Asmadi (who had been transformed into a dragon whelp). But she and Vaevictis came to blows and she slew her cousin. Chromium was forced to kill his sister to protect the people of Mors Ridge, but he was later killed trying to avenge the death of Arcades Sabboth (who we never even see on-screen). That left Bolas as the sole elder Dragon.

But… was that really the end of it?

What was the Elder Dragon War?

Alternatively called the Dragon War or the Great War of the Dragons, there’s actually almost nothing officially published about it. The line I quoted above, in Bolas’ profile? That’s the only official word we have on it. Unpublished materials exist in the wild, but what’s been pieced together may not be all that reliable, especially twenty years and several creative teams later.

One such piece of lore is on the elder wurms. Vorthos extraordinaire @thesquirle posted on Twitter a while back that he’d found the origin of the idea that the elder wurms were the losers of the Elder Dragon War, in a reference to a rejected flavor text from the Card of the Day - April, 2003:

“Once there were multitudes of Elder Dragons in Dominia. After the Great War of the dragons, many were beaten to the ground, stripped of their title, never to fly again.”

Elder Land Wurm by Quinton Hoover

This version of events, however, seems to have been confirmed by Alison Luhrs in the Magic Story Podcast: Dragons, when she talks about the background for Magic’s wurms:

They were the real losers of the Elder Dragon Wars. So wurms used to have limbs and wings, but when they didn’t do so hot in the wars, their limbs and wings were torn off. So all wurms, many, many, many generations removed, are from those elder wurms who fought in the Elder Dragon Wars back in the day.

Not much else is known about the war, other than the five elders from Legends were the only survivors. Doug Beyer seems to indicate that the Elder Dragon War might have been exclusive to Dominaria, but it’s not clear if it was a phrasing issue or deliberate.

Conflicts Known and Unknown

That leads me to the possibility that maybe the Elder Dragon War isn’t as settled as we think. The complicated history of just the five known survivors could mean there are corner cases out there, old conflicts just waiting to reignite.

Doug Beyer’s response to a question about Bolas and Niv-Mizzet had a nugget that’s probably important:

My sense is that Nicol Bolas does keep an eye on, and is likely not overly fond of, other powerful and intelligent dragons.

He also comments on the use of the Elder creature type in conjunction with the Tarkir broodlords. While we may not see true elders outside of Nicol Bolas again, there are dragons old enough and powerful enough that Bolas might consider a threat in the same vein.

Ugin, the Spirit Dragon

The obvious one is, of course, Ugin. Referring back to Doug’s comments on Ugin, it’s important to note that as of Fate Reforged:

We haven’t talked internally about whether Ugin was involved in that particular war that killed lots and lots of dragons on Dominaria long ago, so I would hesitate to either confirm it or rule it out here.

So at the very least the whole elder thing hadn’t been decided yet during Khans of Tarkir block. But he is old and powerful.

Ugin is ancient. We already know that Ugin was around at least 6000 years ago to trap the Eldrazi, and was already a “spirit dragon” by then, which to me means he had already transcended color in his magic. So he’s many millennia old.

It seems that he’s older and more powerful than Sorin, at least, when the Eldrazi were sealed (I can’t see Sorin deferring to someone younger and weaker). It’s worth mentioning, however, that because Ugin’s broodlords become elders after 1,200 years, it might indicate that they’re all, in fact, lesser elder dragons. Which is a whole can of wurms in and of itself. But why would 1,000 year old rando dragons be elders because they’re ‘old’, and yet two printings of the 10,000+ year old Niv-Mizzet aren’t?

Ugin is from Tarkir. We have consistently thought of Ugin’s homeworld as being Tarkir, so he would have had to planeswalk to be involved in a war on Dominaria. That’s a wrinkle, but doesn’t make it impossible to my mind.

This is that interesting line I mentioned earlier, where Doug implies the Elder Dragon War took place on Dominaria. If Ugin was an elder dragon, some aspects of his story makes sense. His morphology mimics Bolas’, as do his card abilities, but it’s possible that’s simply because he’s designed as the anti-Bolas.

Ugin had a rivalry with Bolas. Certainly we think of Bolas and Ugin’s rivalry as going back quite a while — Bolas is just not a big fan of sharing the Multiverse with other ancient, powerful, planeswalking dragons, see, which seems very “him.” Anyway, that rivalry must have gone a bit farther back than 1280 years ago. It might have gone much farther back, but it also could have been a separate, much more recent conflict.

Crux of Fate by Michael Komarck

But I also want to take a moment to examine Ugin as a spirit dragon. We see from O-Kagachi and others that being a spirit dragon is nothing to scoff, at either. Even if Ugin isn’t an ‘elder’ in the same sense that Bolas is, he’s powerful.

Bolas would not have come after Ugin, on Ugin’s home turf, unless he though Ugin was a serious threat. And he didn’t show up and chew the scenery, either. He went straight in for the kill, and might have lost if he hadn’t already co-opted Yasova to his side. From Sorin’s Restoration:

“He thought me his rival for power, and attacked me. Used my own dragons against me. But someone intervened on my behalf.”

But why did he think Ugin his rival? Well, we just don’t know yet, but I suspect we’ll find out more on Ixalan. There must be a reason Bolas waited 5,000 years from the only event we know Ugin participated in - the sealing of the Eldrazi - to show up and gank him.

I’ve mentioned before that Ugin’s feathery wings only showed up in Tarkir, around the time they would have known they’re heading to a Mesoamerican block. It seems to me Ugin might be the Quetzcoatl analogue on Ixalan, And given the portrait in the Rival of Ixalan Key Art (below), It seems there was an epic conflict between beings there as well.

I talked last week about how this draconic figure might represent Ugin

Further, the new Dragonskull Summit has some pretty interesting flavor text:

When the Planeswalker Angrath called dinosaurs “dragons,” the name stuck in certain pirate circles.

Given the dragon banner and the huge, glaring hint from Dragonskull Summit, I’m convinced dragons have larger role to play on Ixalan. My deepest hope is that we won’t just being seeing Ugin on Ixalan, we’ll be seeing another force on the plane. Maybe even a new ancient dragon (although I’m hesitant to use ‘elder’. After all, the banner doesn’t look like Ugin, and wouldn’t the Empire of the Sun be carrying banners that looks like Gishath, Sun’s Avatar? Even if it isn’t related to Ugin, it might be another ancient dragon entity.

Might the long-simmering conflict between ancient dragons be heating up again?

Niv-Mizzet, the Firemind

One last, quick note. Niv-Mizzet got mentioned here a couple times, and I should be clear that I don’t think Niv is an Elder Dragon. Given that he’s the Izzet Parun, an original signatory of the Guildpact, this ancient Guild Lord would have to be over 10,000 years old. That - potentially - makes him older than Ugin. Old enough to remember a time when there was more than one Elder Dragon. And he’s up to something.

Niv-Mizzet, the Firemind by Todd Lockwood

I’ll have another piece talking about Ral Zarek, but for now I should note that I think Niv-Mizzet is aware of far more than he lets on. He would likely already know of the existence of planeswalkers, and for him Project Lightning Bug might have meant a defense against some like Nicol Bolas showing up. Niv himself jealously guards his supremacy as the only intelligent dragon on the plane, snuffing out rivals to avoid a great dragon war of Ravnica’s own.

With Nicol Bolas having co-opted one of his chief guildmages in Ral Zarek, it’s unclear where Bolas’ story will go. But I wouldn’t count the Firemind out.

#archive trap blog #vorthos

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monoguk · 7 years

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yule ball

You didn't have to take a good look at the person's face to know who was in your way; his disheveled Hufflepuff robes and signature silver round specs were enough of an identifier.

FEATURING - kim namjoon CATEGORY - romance WORD COUNT - 6000+

Giggles and buzzing filled the air at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Questions and answers tossed around in the air, with reactions from friends and passers-by and visiting schools mingling with it.

What had everyone been jumping at about anyways? The Yule Ball, of course.

It had been a custom, as Madame Pomfrey had told to all her advisory Hufflepuff students, in the wizarding world that the school hosting the legendary Triwizard Tournament will also. It so happens that it was Hogwarts's turn to welcome two other wizarding schools from afar. In this tournament, one willing champion from each institution will be specially selected through the Goblet of Fire to compete for the title and to undergo three dangerous tasks. As expected, the magical goblet had chosen the ever-talented Jeon Jungkook to be Hogwarts's champion while the other two champions were the brawny Kim Minseok from the East and the witty Bae Joohyun from the West. In the middle of their tournament, the Head Master of Hogwarts declared over a usual diner in the large hall about the upcoming ball that had every student in uproar. Thus, this lead to what was happening all around the campus.

Yes-or-no inquiries like 'will you be my date?' and 'can you go to the ball with me?' were said out of excitement or confidence or nervousness. Boys were gulping nervously before stepping up to the girls they would like to ask as a date. Some men lying in benches lazily either already snatched a partner or did not care whoever they asked. Girl traveled in annoying packs, making all the wooers all the more nervous.

But you were having none of that.

As you were travelling through the herd of ecstatic students - ranging from Hogwarts students and pupils from the other two visiting wizarding schools - to make your way to the library that you so call as your peaceful sanctuary, a flurry of yellow and black halted you in your tracks. You didn't have to take a good look at the person's face to know who was in your way; his disheveled Hufflepuff robes and signature silver round specs were enough of an identifier.

Your eyes went up to meet his when he called out your name. You didn't miss the unusually nervous way he gulped exaggeratedly. His stance seemed familiar enough as you've witnessed a lot of his masculine kind do so in front of particular girls. Though, if you hadn't reminded yourself that he was the closest friend you had in your common House, you would have thought he was going to ask you the familiar will-you-be-my-date-for-the-ball inquiry. Snargles, you thought, that is absolutely absurd. Of course, you wouldn't expect anyone to ask you out (because having your books was enough of a companion) and Kim Namjoon - this sweet sloppy guy - was no exception. Though it did bother you that this calm boy who rarely stumbled with his words is suddenly wary of speaking - and to you, of all people.

"Can you..." He started. Your eyes took note of how the Hogwarts students who were around and knew both of you well gasped and gossiped. Words like 'I didn't know they liked each other!' and 'I guess their friendship bloomed into something more. It's actually about time.' floated towards your hearing, and unconsciously you blushed. Nonetheless, you kept and straight face whereas Namjoon bit at his plump bottom lip.

"Follow me to the common room." You ordered, knowing fully well how uncomfortable Namjoon was gradually feeling with all the eyes watching him seeing as he - the student who was good in oral recitations and in verbal Divination, who said the wisest serious tips whenever approached, who writes lyrics in his free time, who excelled effortlessly in his extra Music classes - really rarely acts like this. You should know because you had been friends ever since first year and that you secretly felt the same audience-anxiety. Without further ado, you swiveled around and headed to the Hufflepuff common room with Namjoon hot on your trail.

Passing through the busy kitchen of Hogwarts and towards a familiar stack of barrels, you tapped the wooden surface with a particular rhythm before the door to the Hufflepuff dorm opens. A few loiterers warn you and Namjoon of the hanging plants by the entrance, as if you didn't know already. Though, it had been in the nature of Hufflepuffs to look out for each other no matter the differences.

You and Namjoon went to send jolly greetings to the people already residing in the mustard common room, students getting comfortable in the stiff wooden materials of the chairs and tables. In one corner of the room, what appeared to be second year students were busy fascinating over harmless plants they were introduced to in Herbology. It was no wonder when Hufflepuffs turn googly eyed over mere plants; being sorted into the House gave you a sense of fondness for the subject.

You situated in front of the fireplace, right under Helga Hufflepuff's portrait, while Namjoon took up the space beside you. The faint buzz of the students faded in the background as you shot the boy an urging look. When he was still fidgeting like before despite the most privacy you could provide for the two of you, you cleared your throat and made your intentions clearer. "What is it that you wanted, Joon?"

Namjoon flinched slightly, though his expression calmed a little bit. He then began to adjust his sliding glasses and reached up to run his hands through his silver umber hair. It took all in you not to scold him when you had a familiar whiff of squid scent in his fingers; you would have been scowling while telling him to wash up his hands whenever he ate his favorite dried squid snack, but when had he even remembered your reminders as such?

"I, uhm, actually..." He shook his head, bangs bouncing in the same direction of his force, inflicting an affectionate smile to crack your sealed lips because you've always find this rare anxious habit of Namjoon's to be adorable, before he continued without bothering to enforce eye-contact with you (not that you noticed it anyway). "You have to teach me how to dance."

There was a moment of pregnant silence between you two, with the clatter of kitchen pots and ladles and the cheerful chatter of students about the upcoming Yule Ball filling in the pause of sound. You stared at the flames ahead, seeing tiny flame people reenacting the way the students proposed to a date for the ball, letting your friend's request sink in your brain.

It took cheering from a pack of rowdy boys entering the common room - "Dude, you did it! You snagged a date!" - to have you finally face Namjoon. His face was a lot more relaxed, a little more on the relieved side, as he stared at you expectantly with his small eyes going as round and big as it can get. You finally reacted with chuckling through your nose and smiling up at him.

"Me? Your dance teacher? Namjoon, we all know you suck at dancing,"

Namjoon scowled at you jokingly, "I'll take that as a compliment-"

"But, I'm worse!" You exclaimed joyfully, falling down on the ground to accommodate your uncontrollable giggles. Anybody would have been offended when asked to teach someone to dance if they had skills as small as dust particles as yours. Through your peripheral vision, you saw Namjoon blankly staring down at you, a scowl slightly tugging down his lips, but that did not faze you one bit.

Once you've calmed down, you sat up, turning your body to face your friend. "Why me? There's always Hoseok."

"He's kind of busy asking out and flirting with girls from other schools." Namjoon explained, but you've already figured that out. "Besides, it's weird dancing waltz with him as a partner."

"I didn't know you were homophobic."

"What? No. I mean, I'm straight, but Hoseok is just... a weird guy." Namjoon gave you a you-know-what-I-mean look, and you nodded in confirmation.

"But, why me?" You raised a brow at him, standing up to sit at the empty wooden couch still in front of the fireplace while Namjoon expectantly did the same to sit beside you.

The boy shrugged nonchalantly, fixing his glasses once again. Wittily, he says, "Because you’re the only female friend I am comfortable with."

It was true, because although Kim Namjoon was smooth with words, he wasn't smooth with the ladies, but it still didn't convince you, though you were close to giving in.

"Oh, come on," Namjoon whined, "You didn't complain when a senior offered you to dance when Madame Pomfrey told us to dance."

"Well, Madame Pomfrey isn't here, is she? We were required to dance."

"Exactly," Namjoon reasoned, "We are required to dance in the Yule ball, but how can I meet the requirement if my two left feet won't allow me?"

Though you were sure nobody was listening on in your conversation, you swore you heard voices in your head taunting you, telling you to just give in. Waltz was pretty basic, and it was probably the only dance you can perform. Looking back at Namjoon's desperate gaze, you thought that maybe you weren't the worst dancer after all.

Although, you didn't give in right away as one more question boggled up your mind, "You don't even have a date yet, Namjoon. How sure are you that you will dance with a partner during the Yule ball?"

"I'll take care of that," Namjoon scooted closer, eyes swirling with begging words in his dark brown irises. "Will you or will you not help your dear Hufflepuff friend?"

"You're not the only Huffle-"

He whined out your name, causing you to crack a small smile to which Namjoon reflected more joyfully. "Oh, alright. Lessons start in the gardens before dinner."

"Wicked!"

The legendary ball was a week away, and suddenly you've began to receive a handful of ball invitations. Your suitors didn't seem desperate to have you as a date because of last resort and they seemed genuinely nervous as they approach you like how the other boys approached the girls they liked as a date. Nonetheless, you politely declined their offers because you thought going alone was the most convenient. Besides, it's not like you knew them past their physique and names.

"Uhm," a gruff voice called out your name making you halt in your steps towards the gardens. You turned around and saw a boy whose uniform was not that of a fellow Hufflepuff, or a Ravenclaw, or a Slytherin, or a Gryffindor. You figured, this boy was from the other visiting school; you also figured, you were receiving another date proposal.

You had your response formulated in your mind. Although this ball was done to establish a strong camaraderie among the students from different wizarding schools, you still were determined to face the ball without a date. You thought it wasn't such a big deal anyways, attending the ball dateless.

As you waited for the boy to finish his familiar question, another voice interrupted by calling out your name. You looked around the boy only to see Namjoon approaching you with his famous dimple smile.

As soon as he reached where you were, Namjoon finally noticed the boy across you and he immediately apologized for getting in the way. The foreign boy said it was okay and was about to continue his question, but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, I can't go to the ball with you. I already have a date. I'm sorry again," you lied, but it wouldn't hurt if the boy didn't know of the truth. After the other boy said it was okay and left, you went to pull a surprised Namjoon to where you two were supposed to be.

As you both approached the arc leading to the outdoor garden, Namjoon suddenly spoke, his voice echoing along the emptying hall. "You have a date? How come you get a date before I did?"

Slightly offended, you raised a brow at him but didn't comment about it, though you did answer truthfully. "I don't have a date, and I don't plan on having one. Now, hurry up, we still have to study for our Potions quiz tomorrow."

"Tomorrow is in six hours," Namjoon obviously pointed out as soon as you both reached the empty garden. He put a rusty cassette tape down the edge of the fountain in the middle as you went to discard your bags, scarves, and books of the steps up the entrance of the Hogwarts castle.

"Exactly," you pointed out, standing across the tinkering Namjoon, "I need to study for two hours for that. Now come on,"

"It won't work," Namjoon held out the cassette, expression sheepish but standing up nonetheless. You rolled your eyes while taking the tape from him and laying it back down on the cement material of the fountain. With a tap of your wand, the tape began to sound out the familiar melody of the song for waltz.

For a moment, you two awkwardly stood in front of each other, with the soft tunes of the song filling in the silence. Naturally, as the teacher of this lesson, you stepped forward, closing the necessary space for the dance.

"Madame Pomfrey said that you should put your hand on the girl's waist. Go ahead."

Following through your instruction, Namjoon reached out and softly laid his palm over your waist. Not being used to such intimacy, you jumped in surprise but you regained your composure when you already noticed something wrong.

"The other hand," you reached back to take one of Namjoon's hands from the side of your waist then held it up with your hand, "should be holding the girl's like this. Though, you can hold her waist with both hands after the introductory dance. Now, look at your feet."

You bowed down, with Namjoon following closely. Momentarily, you took note of the obvious difference in your foot sizes, but then it was no wonder when Namjoon was one tall guy. "Follow my feet."

You stepped your right foot to the right, waiting for Namjoon to follow, then stepped your left foot closer the right with your toes pointed. The boy followed the position of your feet before your bounced on your pointed feet. To this, Namjoon clumsily bounced and the error in it made you giggle.

"When you step your left foot like this, you bounce instantly. Like this," you demonstrated it again, eyes trained on your feet. You did it slowly at first, then at the normal speed. Your shoes lightly kicked at Namjoon's to signal that it was his turn to try it out.

You giggled every time he got it wrong, redid the steps after making fun of him, and after a few more tries Namjoon finally got it.

The cassette played in loop, though you two no longer followed the beat of the song and just served as a background music during your slow lesson.

"You do the same thing to the other side."

When you saw Namjoon cross his right foot over his left, it had you pulling away from Namjoon and crouching down on the floor, giggles leaving your lips continuously. "I can't believe you're acting cute right now, Joon. Hold on, this is just too funny."

Hugging around your waist as you giggled away, you felt Namjoon crouch across you, his outstretched hand laying atop his knees slightly grazing along your bare knees as his mouth let out breathy chuckles. "Well, I'm sorry I'm such a klutz."

Calming down from your laughter, you looked up to meet his crinkling eyes with a residual smile still on your face. Eventually, you stood up, brushing down your clothes as you regained your composure. "You seriously have a lot to learn."

"We have a few days more." Namjoon pointed out, standing up to naturally tower over you. At your signal, he slides his hand to curl around the side of your waist while his other held up your hand. He feels your empty hand slide up to rest atop his shoulder.

You shook your head, not finding sense in what Namjoon said, and continued with the lesson. "You do the same on the other side means that instead of the right foot, you use the left, and vice versa. Like this."

An hour passed with you going through the stationary basic step if the dance, though most of the hour was spent laughing and giggling at the mistakes you both did. By the end of the lesson, you said that at the next one you will be teaching about the mobile steps while dancing along the beat.

"Yes, Madame," Namjoon bowed at you, pocketing the magical cassette tape in his robes, before he made move to follow you towards the Hufflepuff dorm. "I really appreciate this a lot. Thank you for teaching me."

You looked up at Namjoon to flash him a warm smile, but you kept quiet about accepting his gratitude. You haven't done much yet anyways. "Come on, I'm starving. Hurry before all the food is gone!"

"That's nonsense, Hogwarts can't run out of food. I read about it in the book, Hogwarts: A History."

Lessons were just as tiring as always. Professor Snape was just as stingy as always during Potions and Professor Trelawney was still the same weird Divination teacher. There was more chatter outside, seeing that the Hogwarts students were a little friendlier with the students from the other schools.

At least, you thought, you and Namjoon had some improvement over dancing lessons after the last class just before dinner. He had a bit of difficulty with the footsteps as you waltzed from one point to another, but he quickly caught on with your guidance and the hypnotizing beat of the song. When the bell rung signaling the start of the dining feast, you both pulled apart and fixed your things. Namjoon had whined afterwards when you said that the next lesson was turning up the beat while your hands switched positions.

When you both reached the Hufflepuff table, your friends handed you a big box wrapped carefully with brown paper parchment. You smiled, recognizing the thorough packaging from your parents. A wide grin etched on your face when you also recognized their writing on the card attached to the package.

"Have fun waltzing! Your dad picked the design personally himself. We miss you, dear."

Your head tilted in confusion, not understanding what could be in the box until Namjoon answered your question as though he read your thoughts.

"It's probably your dress for the ball. It's in six days, you know?"

"Oh," you blankly acknowledged, staring at the unopened box with curiosity pooling all around your irises. Naturally, you would have given to your urge of knowing what was specifically inside - and if your dad picked up a what you would have chosen as always - but there were many curious eyes and it wasn't as if you were even excited for the ball anyways.

Hoseok suddenly appears across you and Namjoon, plate piled up with an assortment of cooked meat and tempting desserts. "Yeah, Joon, it's in six days, but you still have no date."

"I'm working on it." Namjoon calmly answers, taking in some delicious smelling beef and wrapping it around a fresh leaf of lettuce.

"That's what you said weeks ago," Hoseok complained.

"And, I suppose you have a date already?" You interrupted, unconsciously taking Namjoon's side as always.

Hoseok then scoffed, one corner of his lips tilting up to offer you a smug grin. He puffed out his chest while he ran a hand through his bangs and said, "As a matter of fact, I do. It wasn't that hard; she said yes right away. And, what about you, Miss Bookworm?"

You shrugged, nimble hands quickly reaching out to steal a chocolate truffle atop Hoseok's stack of sweets on his plate before popping it into your mouth, "I can always go to the party alone. Who says I have to have a partner in order to attend it?"

"Why would you even bother going to the ball if that's your case?"

"Because it's required?" You and Namjoon explained at the same time, tones exhibiting obviousness the same though with obviously different vocal timbres.

Hoseok stared at you, brain storming up ways to convince you to accept having a partner because he had a close friend asking him to ask you to be his date. "The dress your father picked will go to waste."

You sighed, picking up the last crumbs on your plate and easily stealing one fruity tart from Namjoon's plate before fixing up your things while directing a few words towards Hoseok, "As long as I'm wearing it, it won't be wasted, right? Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have to do my Ancient Runes homework."

You didn't give Hoseok a chance to retort as you briskly made your exit from the Great Hall towards the dormitories. The said boy stared incredulously at your retreating figure, all the while muttering under his breath, "She's mental, she is."

"What? No." You answered determinedly, eyes staring questioningly at Namjoon who stood in front of you.

"That's unfair. I showed myself in my dress robes, you go on and change into your gown too."

You rolled your eyes at his logic, although a part of you found a tiny bit of sense in his statement. However, there was no way you were going to give in this time, even if Namjoon is your closest friend.

Eaten up by pure curiosity, you had carefully opened up the package your parents’ owl-sent to you once you were alone in your shared room with three other girls in the same year as you. As you opened the lid, even though the gown was merely a combination of materials folded up neatly to accommodate the shape of the box, you had already been astonished. A slight chuckle escaped your lips at that moment, mentally thinking that as always, your father knew what you would have seen as beautiful. And though you weren't even excited to attend the ball, you couldn't help but think of ways on how you would wear this gown during the evening party.

"Am not. You were the one who showed me your Yule ball attire without me asking you to." You pointed out, flipping another page of the book you were reading and holding before Namjoon had graciously appeared in his sleek dress robes. "I'm going to wear it in three days anyway. You have to worry about your date instead, Joon."

Apparently, you just found out during dinner that Kim Namjoon still has no date. What was the use of dancing lessons if he was going to attend without a dance partner? Nonetheless, Namjoon replied in a collected tone that he has it under control.

"I'll ask her tomorrow. Now come on, think of it as my dress rehearsal. Hurry up, we just have an hour before curfew." You had no choice but to follow when Namjoon began hauling you up until you were in front of your room's door. Weirdly enough, you still found sense in whatever he said and grumpily went inside to do as your closest friend had suggested.

You decided to just wear it without fixing your appearance at all, not even bothering tying your hair and just letting it flow down until the wavy ends reached the curve in your back introducing your tailbone. It wasn't like it was the real thing anyways. When you've had, the dress zipped quickly, because Namjoon knocked on your door after every minute, you put on your large cloak and went outside.

Namjoon did not comment on how your black robe basically covered your dress, but he had an idea on what color it was as your cloak didn't reach down until the end of your gown. Hurriedly, he grabs your hand and fled away the common room until you two reached the familiar garden you've been practicing in.

"Lumos," you muttered, casting a ball of light to appear from the tip of your sleek wand. Namjoon did the same when he couldn't find the magical cassette tape with the utter darkness surrounding him.

"We won't be able to see a thing. It's too dark out. Why don't we just do this tomorrow instead? We don't even have a lamp prepared." You suggested.

"No way." Namjoon tapped the cassette, the music cutting through the peaceful silence immediately yet softly. He fixed his attire as he stood up and approached you, "This is how I'm going to ask my date out."

He held out a hand towards you, and you almost wouldn't have seen it if it weren't for the soft silvery glow of the moon up above the dark velvety sky. You raised a brow in question, lips tugging up to an amused curve, but you began to untie the ribbon holding your cloak together to make this "dress rehearsal" proper. "What? You're going to impress her with your dance?"

"Hey, that's mean. I can do that. Look at how much I've improved anyways." Namjoon eyes the black robe you've placed on his open palm before they slowly traveled up to your figure wearing the dress he'd secretly been curious about. Nonchalantly, he discarded the robe beside the playing music tape. He offered his hand again and you took it, not commenting on how sweaty his palm had gotten because you knew he always had sweaty palms. "Don't girls want a unique promposal?"

"I suppose, some girls prefer simple invitations." You naturally went to the waltzing position and shrugged while waiting for the right beat to start dancing.

There was a pause in the tape before it looped back to the beginning, and to this Namjoon led the dance. You couldn't help the giggle from escaping your mouth when his clumsy feet made a mistake not even a minute into the dance, and it continued to spill out of your lips until the boy you were dancing with joined you in your chuckling, saying sorry breathlessly.

"So," with his strong arms, he swiveled the both of you to step to the side and turn your bodies perpendicular to your previous position. "What kind of proposal do you prefer?"

"I prefer my books, thank you very much." You answered, toes bouncing and stepping and skipping to the beat of the song. Sometimes your steps would mess up because Namjoon either moved too late or too early.

"Not even with an invitation like mine?" Suddenly, the beat of the song turned up, causing both of your hands to alternate the hold at a fast pace.

"It's cute," you simply answered, pulling away to bow at Namjoon when the song ends fleetingly.

He waited in the silence for your straight answer, but it never came as a slower song followed the last one. "Hey, we still have thirty minutes before curfew. How about one last dance?"

You were about to retort, not willing to risk the last safe thirty minutes over getting caught by the strict monitoring professors lurking about. You also weren't pleased with the thought of being caught by Mr. Filch and his cat because the last time he caught a naughty student, he sent them to the Forbidden Forest with the Hogwarts Gamekeeper as punishment. So, it surprised you when you gave in to Namjoon's suggestion and went to take his hand until he pulled you closer.

You two had been the closest ever since first year, since you sat beside each other after being sorted into Hufflepuff, and so when Namjoon went to hold your waist with both of his hands, it didn't really faze you though it did dust a small pinch of pink across your cheeks.

"If I'm not mistaken, you're supposed to wrap your hands around my neck, like this." Namjoon slid an arm away from your waist to hold your arms and settle it atop his shoulders near the curve of his neck. His hand then went back to holding onto your waist softly, touch too soft it almost felt as if he wasn't touching at all.

Your cheeks involuntarily pinked, suddenly flustered of having a male too close physically, despite this man being your closest friend. You were still just a girl and he was just a boy potent enough to make the other gender's heart flutter like that of the nimble wings of the golden snitch. But, as the two of you swayed under the blue velvet blanket of the evening, you shoved down such thoughts and instead focused on pointing out Namjoon's mistakes.

Except, his steps were flawless, stiff and a little bit clumsy, but still at the right track. Besides, the type of dance they were swaying to were more of free-style beat, best danced when just swaying from the left to the right and no complicated-not-really footwork. "I see you've been practicing on your own?"

Namjoon's chuckle was deep and, with the proximity between you two, the sound sent vibrations running from your fingertips to your body. He showed you his famous smile: the one with a deep dimple below one corner of his mouth and with his eyes crinkling up further into thin crescents. "Like I said, I've been working on it. Besides, I may have watched head-boy Seokjin practicing his dance moves with this girl from the other school."

"I see," You nodded, recognizing the boy Namjoon had mentioned to be the head-boy prefect from Gryffindor who had looks considered as potential prey from predatory females.

After that, another pregnant silence ensued between the two of you, time ticking silently with every easy step you took.

"I didn't know you can wear dresses well. It's pretty." Namjoon spoke up, discreetly eyeing the outfit you'd been ridiculously wearing because of his persuasion.

You had on your body a well-fitting flowing gown: it's skirt made of dark blue chiffon material and fleeting graciously with every caress of the wind caused by the slightest motion while the top was of a cream-color, shimmering, lace-embroidered, long-sleeved, and off-shoulder. "My father always has the best picks. It's all the dress."

Namjoon would have disagreed completely, as the dress was a mere prop; a small little detail that made the main art piece so breathtaking.

He honestly did not like you the way a man likes a woman, but his feelings weren't far off. Having you by his side was the most satisfying thing he'd ever experienced; even better than getting a high mark off the difficult Potions subject; even better than finishing writing and composing a song for Frog Choir or for Extra Music Lessons; even better than seeing dried squid served on the Hufflepuff table during mealtimes. Bloody hell, it might actually even be even better than passing his O.W.Ls or N.E.W.T. or Apparition Licensure exams.

But, maybe, Namjoon wouldn't be going that far. Because, for now, it was of utmost importance that he asks you this simple question. So, he calls your attention by whispering your name. "Be my partner for the ball, will you?"

You thought you were hearing things, but the cassette tape had magically stopped playing (it was an old tape anyways) though you and Namjoon were still swaying with an imaginary waltz beat.

You would have rejected him like all the other boys who asked for your company for the upcoming Yule ball. But you knew he wasn't just any other young wizard.

You would have incredulously asked him if he was serious, would have asked if he was practicing on you for the time he finally asks out his date tomorrow.

Your mind was surprisingly at a crossroad, not knowing which statement or question should come out of your mouth as a reply to Namjoon's confusingly clear question. But, even if you had a determined answer at the tip of your tongue, you wouldn't have voiced it out because suddenly the clock struck twelve and your strict Arithmancy professor was unluckily patrolling the hallway leading to the gardens. "What are you students doing outside past curfew? Stay right where you are."

Staying put until the teacher reached you both would have been trouble, but running for it would cause even more problems. Still, you found yourself sharing a brief look of horror and strategy-making with Namjoon before you felt yourself being hauled away by this sweet unkempt boy in his newly arrived black velvet dress robes. We'd be in trouble anyway, you thought incoherently, she'd probably forget about this tomorrow. Besides, it's not like she saw our faces.

Amidst the silence of the castle's corridors, a booming laughter echoed along the dark emptiness and it only took a second for you to recognize Namjoon's distinct laugh. Soon enough, you joined him in giggling before you turned the corner and stayed quiet for the rest of your escape back to the dormitories.

Past the busy floating kitchen utensils, you and Namjoon ducked until you've reached the entrance barrels. And, with adrenaline still pumping with your dangerous escape, you tapped the wooden surface until the door opened and you two slipped inside.

The common room was empty, save for the badger-like furniture decorating it. The mustard walls illuminated the whole room despite the flames by the fireplace the only source of light.

You and Namjoon leaned against the door, just in case the roaming teacher managed to follow you back to the Hufflepuff dormitories. You were sure if you got caught, a handful of points would have been taken from your house, but after minutes of silence behind the closed dorm door, you were relieved that Hufflepuff kept their points untouched and that you and Namjoon were free from trouble, for now.

"That was mental, Joon! You aren't supposed to run away from the teacher." You playfully punched his arm, making your way towards the fireplace and plopping down ungracefully on a wooden seat. Minutes later, Namjoon sat beside you, just as always.

"What's mental is that you aren't taking my question seriously." Namjoon pointed out, still a bit out of breath with all the escaping that happened. "Besides, running away is better than having our points taken. I don't want our house to lose over Slytherin again."

"True," you commented, mind still pondering on what to answer while your fingers played with the soft material of your gown. Your eyes stayed focused on the fire; the flames still projecting the people proposing to another for a date to the Yule ball. It was a few days away, and indeed Namjoon worked on it for too long.

"I still think that this is practice for when you ask a girl out tomorrow."

"Technically, it is tomorrow."

Your mouth shut, finding no retort in the fact he had outspoken. Once again, you thought that it was no wonder that Namjoon would want to work in the Daily Prophet and maybe have song composition as a side job, because his words were always carefully, beautifully, and scarily persuading. "Why me? There are prettier girls from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor and a few from Slytherin but a lot from the other schools.".

"First of all, you are the only girl I am very close with." Namjoon stated, body slouching until he had his elbows resting on his separated knees. "You're probably the only girl who'll understand my two left feet. Besides, I'm probably the only boy who'd ever understand your obsession with books."

You found no error in whatever reasons Namjoon were telling you; both were true although you whined at the very last statement despite the truth in it. You were still having second thoughts about agreeing, especially when you've already rejected a handful of rejections from the previous boys. Secretly, your doubt was brought on by surprise because who would have expected that Namjoon would ask you out? (Everyone but you).

"Besides," Namjoon sighed, tilting his head to look at you with his dimpled smile, "you were the first girl I thought of bringing to the dance."

It would have been a lie if you said that that didn't sway your heartstrings. Whatever Namjoon have said may have been the whole truth or just a tactic to have you agree, but you knew Namjoon long enough to know he couldn't have been smooth enough with girl to have said such a greasy line. Still, you began to tease him, "Yet you still waited weeks before you asked me out."

"You didn't seem to want a partner, so I had to test the waters."

"I've been flashing rejections to every boy who approached me, and you're still taking this chance?" You asked, but your smile told him that you were this close to agreeing to him.

"You wouldn't resist me anyways. I'm your best friend, for Hogwart's sake." And, being your best friend - as he claimed to be -, you knew you had nothing against him.

"Why would you prioritize asking me to teach you to dance over asking me to the dance?" You laughed standing up to make your way back to your rooms.

"Because it was in the plan?"

"Being adorable was?"

"So, you thought I was cute but I still get no solid reply?" Namjoon jeered, having reached both your rooms but staying outside just until you went in.

"I still don't understand why my date saw me in my dress before the actual day." You giggled softly, whispers almost inaudible as the sound vibrated in the air subtly to reach Namjoon's hearing.

"So...?"

"Alright, I'll be your partner for the Yule Ball. But, I better not smell any dried squid on your fingers during the party."

"No promises."

#belle writes #bangtan rapmonster #kim mon scenario #namjoon fluff

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smoothshift · 6 years

Text

Its not always cheaper to buy then rent...[RANT] via /r/cars

Its not always cheaper to buy then rent...[RANT]

Just like Yoplait, sweet tldr on the bottom, life story on top.

So, a little background. My wife and I are from the Balkans, and since we had kids, we've been coming to Croatia every summer for at least 5 weeks to hang out with family and to expose the kids to our native culture. We also travel a lot when we come, so in the past we had been renting cars. This usually ends up costing about 2000 euros per month because we always need a van or wagon and we travel internationally, etc.

This year I managed convince my work to let me work remotely, so we decided to come for 3 months instead. Well, I didn't feel like dropping 6000 euros for a rental car so we decided we should just buy our own, and leave it with my mother in law, so we would have a car that would be cheaper than renting over time, and worst case scenario, could re-sell and be out of pocket a much smaller amount. We decided to get a wagon, van or suv and budgeted 8000 euros as our limit.

Well, I know a bit about cars, so I did a bunch of craigslist (njuskalo) shopping around before we came and had lined up a bunch of cars to go take a look at. I even brought my OBD2 reader as backup. Well after spending a week going to see a bunch of used and abused jalopies, we finally found a really nice 2013 Peugeot 508SW 2.0HDI. It was high milage (140,000) but the guy who owned it was a traveling salesman and took really good care of it. It only had 3 issues I wasn't stoked on.

Its a 6 speed semi auto...really wanted a manual in Europe of all places

It needed a new coolant hose, the old one just looked a little worn

The guy had his elbow in the same place for 5 years and had actually created a dent in the interior door panel.

Apart from that the car was great. I did a full under and over inspection on it, it drove great, shifted great, no faults, no creaks nothing. The guy was asking $9000 for it, but I managed to talk him down to eight.

Immediately I took it to the dealer and had them change out all the fluids, filters and the messed up hose and update all the software to the latest version. I also had them change out the timing belt and water pump as those are the first to go. This service cost me another 1000euros, but I figured if we're gonna hang onto this car for a few years, its gonna be worth making sure its in great shape.

And it was. We drove it up and down the coast, went to Italy with it and a bunch of city driving, and the kids got a kick out of going through all the tunnels with the panoramic roof. Then one day as we were headed to Italy for the second time, we got stuck in the border crossing line and as we're stop and going, the transmission starts to jerk...A LOT. It feels like it drops out of gear, then just slams it into 1st when I let off the brake. I put it into manual mode and its fine, but I was getting sketched out. I park it in Trieste for a few hours, and on the trip back, it shifts fine. Then a few days later we're headed to one of the islands and I notice that every time it shifts from 5th to 4th its rough.

My first though is that its oil, but I did a bunch of research and apparently these gearboxes are supposed have lifetime oil, but a bunch of people have issues with the valve bodies going to shit (Aisin AW6 if you're interested). So I take it back to the authorized service center and they wont touch automatics and they send me to a little mom and pop shop that apparently specializes in autos. I call them, but they're booked for a week and we were going to Dalmatia the following week so no one would be able to touch it for 2 weeks. We drive down (about 250 miles) the next week and its definitely shifting rough, but since its mostly freeway, it never really leaves 6th gear.

So finally we get back last week and the very next day I take it to the shop and the guy tells me its probably just the oil. They go to change it and its tar black. They end up changing it twice, just because it was in such a bad condition, a single change it was still bleeding black. Apparently they recommend changing that oil every 60000km and call the "lifetime" label bullshit. He also tells me to drive it around for a while and if its still rough, we'll probably going to have to change the valve body (1000 euro for the part + labor).

Next few days Im driving it around and its night and day. The car is more responsive, smooth, dare I say feels faster. No issues in traffic, no rough shifts. I think AWESOME, a $100 gear oil change just saved my ass. So yesterday I had a doctors appointment in Ljubljana, about 2 hours away and in a different country. The family and I decide to make it a day trip and as we're driving out there the car is doing great. No issues at speed, smooth shifts, the border crossing handled like a champ! That is until the second we got off the highway in Ljubljana. As I'm pulling up to the light, the gearbox clunks, and "Gearbox Fault, get immediate service" message comes on the dash. The car locks me in 3rd gear but luckly its a diesel, so it has the needed torque to get it going...but I top out at about 40mph. So I limp it to the doctors office, get my exam and while waiting find a Peugeot dealer...only dealer in the fucking country, a few miles away. So we jump in the car again, and the fault is gone, but its shifting rough again. I get it to the dealer after a day to diagnose it, I get the bad news...I need a new valve body...to the tune of 2100 euros.

I looked up used trannies for this car, called around, and in Croatia I would have ended up having to pay around $1500 euros, but with towing fees, it would come out about the same. So my whole plan of buy a car for 8000 euros because it will pay off in a year or two, is now a car of 12000 euros...and its still a fucking automatic...sigh.

TLDR: Visiting Croatia for 3 months, decided it would be cheaper to buy a car then rent one. Bought a used car from a private party, inspected it, scanned it, drove it. Everything was great, then the automatic gearbox starts acting up. Changed the oil and boom, back to perfect again, then yesterday, I drove 2 hours to a different country only for it to throw up a "gearbox fault" and I'm out 2100 euros for a new valve body. FML

#reddit #autonews #auto #cars

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missduckysays-blog · 7 years

Text

Some Background

I feel like I should explain some of the background of the entire relationship.

All in all, it lasted a year. The entire thing. I guess it’s okay for you to judge me, as long as you don’t send me hate mail about it. I judge myself. It wasn’t very long from beginning to end.

Everything happened too fast, and I let it. I feel now, looking back, more like I was just on a ride that I couldn’t and didn’t even try to control.

I met him on POF. (Keep on judging me I know you are.) I was a lonely nursing student who had just moved to a new state and knew no one. I originally made an account because it’s fun going on dates sometimes, and being incredibly socially awkward doesn’t make for a good means to create companionship.

We went on one date, and then texted and called pretty much continuously for about two weeks. I asked him questions about things he liked, and he seemed like a nice enough person.

Two weeks after our first date, he called me and asked me to attend a military ball with him. I didn’t think much of him mentioning that he was in the army. I never did care about people’s jobs or how much money they made. My most passionate romance was with someone who had nowhere to live. I don’t judge. I was also doing well enough for myself at this point.

So we went on our second date, and this was where I thought we maybe started to click. I had found a nice, long term relationship oriented man who would not break my heart. He had goals and aspirations, and was from a place I had never seen or met anyone from. His mother is Mexican and so I felt like maybe we could at least identify on the grounds of being a “minority”. (I have a big thing about being able to culturally connect to those I am dating.)

We saw each other very weekend after that. He actually met my dad the day after our second date. The only time we were apart for longer than a week was when his grandfather died.

At this point I felt myself getting back into the familiar habits and routine of a relationship. It was nice and respectable unsurprising in it’s nature. In all honesty, it felt like what you *think* they are supposed to feel like. Comfortable. Easy.

He told me he loved me at 2 months in. I had promised myself I wouldn’t say it back until I meant it, but after two weeks of feeling like a terrible person because I could feel how upset he was (I am a true empath. It’s almost like reading minds). I said it back, knowing full well that it was mostly a peer pressure thing.

This continued on as normal, except for one thing. I was trying to get back to my religious roots. I wanted to do things the Christian way. I felt that God was looking down on me with disgust because of our premarital sex. I was even told by a pastor that God wasn’t hearing my prayers because I was sinning (BS ALERT!!!). This set the groundwork for the biggest mistake of my life.

I tried explaining to him about four months in how I was feeling. At this point we had discussed religion and he had told me he was a devout Christian who had simply fallen away from God because of the difficulty of Army life. I accepted that and hoped that we could grow together.

I told him how guilty I felt, and that I would like us to stop doing what I considered to be wrong. He pressured me incessantly to give in. I did because he was asking me, and “how could I fault him when I had already given in?”. So I continued to have sex with him even though every part of my soul told me to stop.

One day I had enough. I was tired of him pressuring me into something I didn’t want to do, and so I told him we had to wait until marriage, thinking I would feel better about it after we were married. The guilt would go away, I thought. Once again I was wrong.

That conversation went as follows: “I want to wait until we are married to have sex.” I asked him quietly and waited for a response. He thought for a minute, and then said “Will you marry me?”…

I really should have said no. I did at first. I told him he was crazy. He spent the next few weeks telling me why it was such a great idea, including the fact that *HE* (great emphasis here) would get enough extra money that we could live together and not have to worry about anything. That we could elevate our relationship to the next level. He asked me in secret. He told no one.

I eventually said yes. I figured there were worse people to marry, and that our relationship was just as good as anybody else’s. Plus, people have done worse than someone who would never lay a finger on them or cheat, right? I asked him to go with me to premarital counseling. He refused. Then he agreed and pushed it off… I allowed it.

Two months later I went to Washington state to meet his family. We had a wonderful time, and I found that I adore the beauty of the trees and mountains. He and I agreed that there wasn’t exactly a better place to get married, so we did it at the courthouse, with one witness (the other was a courthouse worker) in jeans. We accidentally got married on his father’s birthday. Oops.

Thanksgiving rolled around, and he made up this wonderful story about how he had asked me to marry him atop the space needle in Seattle. This is what he told his family. He announced our “engagement” at dinner. He forgot the ring at home in Tennessee.

We were married. We both thought it was stupid to rent in the market we lived in, as it was a much cheaper and better investment to just buy a house. We did. A cozy three bedroom, two bath house. My little brother (fuzzpuff) came along, because I have custody of him and he needed to finish high school.

There has never been a bigger shock to my system than moving in with him. I didn’t change much. I was still me. I kept my house exactly the same as I had kept my apartment. He was the one who changed. It was like he turned into a child, leaving me to be the adult. It was my job to handle everything from the bills to groceries to cooking, cleaning, and laundry. I also worked and had class. We bought a brand new car because he was upside down $6000 on a truck that we had easily spent half again as much in repairs during the six months we had been together. I handled everything. Alone.

We needed up getting two dogs and settling in. Sort of. I have already said it, and I will say it again. I am NOT a housewife. I quickly grew upset about things, mostly his laziness and unwillingness to help or even learn to help.

I began to get more angry and depressed as every day went by. We grew apart. I still didn’t feel attracted to my husband sexually at all. I still felt obligated, more so now that we were married, to have sex with him anyway.

I hated every second of it. I am a rape victim, but I had blocked out the memories as a child. This brought them back. I often fought back tears as I relived the moments over and over again. He wondered why I wasn’t getting into it, and I explained how I felt as best I could, but he didn’t understand. We would go a couple of weeks without sex, and it would be as if he had simply forgotten how I felt and the begging would begin. It got so bad that once I actually cried in front of him instead of waiting until I was alone…

He begged me, pleaded with me that regular sex would make it better. I needed time. I needed to feel like more than just a sex object who happened to handle all of the household business. I wanted to feel special. I did my best to make him happy. I did everything in my power to change how I felt.

Towards the end, once I had nothing left inside but the overwhelming urge to RUN!, I finally got him to go to marriage counseling with me. At our first independent session, I told the therapist that I wanted nothing more than to leave. She sounded understanding and made it seem as if she could help. It was never mentioned again, not in independent or in group sessions. That made me feel worse.

The day finally came when I told him that I wanted to leave. Not that I was going to, but that I felt nothing was changing even though I was putting everything into it. His response was to tell me that if I left he had nothing to live for, and that he would just kill himself. He went into the kitchen to cut his wrists. I took the knife away from him myself. He was cutting the wrong way to die, so I knew he didn’t really want to, but I don’t take those threats lightly. Ever.

That was it. That was the last straw. He was supposed to deploy two weeks later. I couldn’t let him. He was at the worst suicidal, and at the least emotionally unstable and manipulative. I called his commanding officer and told him what happened. He was committed that day. He was so angry with me. I didn’t care.

I stayed until he got home. It was after he got home that i finally had my first session with my own personal therapist. She was the sweetest woman and although I only met her once, I will NEVER forget her.

I told he everything I have told you. I told her how I felt, and what had happened. I told her how even though I had made up my mind to leave, he wanted me to stay until after his mother’s visit.

She told me exactly what I needed to hear. “Go. Go now. Go this weekend. Get out.” I have never felt so freed… I went home and I told him at she said. He was FURIOUS. I listened to him flip from berating me with his words, to crying about how I shouldn’t be able to make him feel this way. About how horrible I was for it. That was Friday.

I left on Sunday morning. I took my puppy and what I could fit into my red 1992 Toyota Corolla. I don’t know how I made it, but by the grace of God I did. I stayed at my dad’s for one night, and then moved in with my aunt and uncle.

I sometimes regret my decision. I feel like maybe I should have given things more of a chance. He regularly throws the argument that “marriage is sacred how could you ever give up so easily” at me, coupled with “I would do *anything* for you!!”, with a dash of “I love you, I’ve changed” for good measure. It almost always works, except for the big part of me in the back of my mind and body screaming “NO! NO! NO! DON’T LISTEN DON’T BELIEVE HIM!!” Idk if that’s a touch of my ever worsening PTSD, or my sixth sense, but whatever it is, I’m listening.

#listentoyourheart #dontgiveup #emotional manipulation #suicide threats #the voice inside my head #sixth sense #open your third eye #empath #emotional control #failed marriage #young marriage #too young for this shit #fail

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