#though maybe that just feels plain to me as someone from an Average American White Family

[kineticallyanywhere]

Monkey’s Paw pages 130-131 ( START HERE || ao3 || previous || next ) AU after episode 62. The Omega Dads try a more desperate gambit, but   careful what you wish for. Our dads find alternate versions of themselves in a strange dreamscape. Ifyou die in the dream, doyou die in real life?

we are getting real close to some more Monologues that I have been sitting on for more than a year

also this comic will not go about straight up shipping any of the dads, but I call it like I see it vis a vis how they interact with each other and who thinks who is hot

[tuanyiems]

The Space Between Your Fingers 04

Mark Tuan x OC Genre: Fluff, slice of life Words: 4.8k [Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] - [RECAP] “For Just Mark, Jinyoung sunbae brought me to a delicious bakery. I also got revenge for you c: -Go Ahnmi” Mark laughed when he uncovered what was inside the bag. A box of Jinyoung’s favorite sakura mochi. And an extra-large pudding cup. - Ch. 4: Hoodie History Ahnmi opened her eyes that morning to the sight of Jackson hovering above her. “Morning sleepyhead!” he smiled at her creepily. Ahnmi hid back under her blanket. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away. “Where’d Noona go?” Bambam asked, entering the room with Youngjae. Jackson pointed to the lump under the blanket. “Did you scare her?” Youngjae asked. “Yeah, with his face!” Bambam joked, making Youngjae laugh. Jackson made an unamused face at Bambam before pulling the blanket off the bed. “Ahnmi, let’s go to Mark’s house!” Jackson whined.

Ahnmi tried desperately to smooth down her bed head. “I-I need to get ready.” “That’s why I’m here!” Bambam declared, pulling her out of bed. “I’m teaching you first! Fashion 101!” Youngjae proceeded to open up her closet door, to Ahnmi’s surprise and worry. Her closet seemed average at first glance, but on closer inspection, of specifically the floor, piles of half folded, half crumpled clothing sat one on top of the other. “Woah,” Bambam muttered, slightly taken aback. Youngjae began laughing as he pulled out some of the sweaters on the floor. “Half of these are Yugyeom’s!” Jackson joined in, pulling out more of Yugyeom’s items from the pile. Yugyeom entered the room at the sound of his name only to see Ahnmi’s closet being dissected. “Ahnmi!” he looked at her sternly after seeing all his sweaters piling up between Youngjae and Jackson. She smiled at him guiltily. “I’ll return them today.” Yugyeom pouted. “Go steal from Mark’s closet later. They’ll fit you better!” “Way to throw me under the bus,” Mark replied as he, Jinyoung, and Jaebum entered Ahnmi’s bedroom as well. “What’s taking you guys so long?” Jaebum asked, only to be answered with the sight of Ahnmi’s closet. He bowed politely at Ahnmi, trying to contain his smile at the sight of her morning bedhead. “Why are you guys bothering her?” “No! I’m helping her with fashion. Right, Noona?” Bambam insisted. “No breakfast?” Mark asked quietly. “Fashion first!” Bambam yelled out. “I mean look at her! She can’t eat looking like that!” Ahnmi looked down at her pajamas, a plain white long-sleeve shirt with baggy sweat pants. She thought she looked pretty okay. After all, pajamas were supposed to be comfortable, right? No one else was going to see her sleeping. She looked at all the guys in her room. At least, she hadn’t anticipated anyone besides Yugyeom seeing her in her pjs. “I haven’t even washed up yet,” Ahnmi defended herself quietly. Jinyoung chuckled, patting Ahnmi’s messy hair. “Go wash up,” he said, helping her up and out of bed. Avoiding eye contact, she rushed to the bathroom. Jaebum laughed at the guys. “How could you do that to a lady?” Yugyeom choked in disbelief. “Lady?” “When I finish making her up she’d gonna be one!” Bambam said confidently. Youngjae broke out in laughter as Bambam raised up a thin lace tank top. “Lady!” Jackson emphasized to Bambam. “She’s not going clubbing!” “Yeah, pick out a sweater, Bambam,” Yugyeom added. “It’s still chilly out.” “Oooh, look at you, taking care of your cousin!” Jinyoung gasped with feigned awe. “Our maknae is growing up!” Jaebum continued teasing. “Ahnmi noona!” Bambam yelled out from his seat in front of the closet. “I’ll put the clothes outside the bathroom for when you’re done!” Ahnmi blushed from inside the bathroom, praying for her dear life that Bambam would pick a normal outfit. “Are we eating after this?” Mark asked the guys, lying down on the bed lazily. He got up early for no reason. “Yeah, shouldn’t someone be making breakfast?” Jinyoung agreed, taking a seat next to Mark who was already closing his eyes. “Loser can cook the food!” Jackson declared. Youngjae laughed at him. “Loser to what? Are we playing a game?” “What about Ahnmi noona? She has to play too!” Bambam added. “It’s only fair.” Youngjae and Jackson exchanged glances, smiling. “Rock-paper-scissors?” All the guys broke out into laughter. Even Mark, with his eyes still closed, smiled. “You guys are such hustlers!” Yugyeom chided his two hyungs. Youngjae smiled happily. “Then what game shall we play?” “Let’s decide when Ahnmi comes back,” Jaebum decided. Bambam smiled, getting up from the mess of clothes he created. He looked cheekily at the sleeping Mark before lifting up a sweater for all the other guys to see. Jackson began clapping his hands. “You’ve outdone yourself Bambam.” “How did that end up in there though?” Youngjae asked. Yugyeom shrugged. “Ahnmi finds clothes from everywhere.” Bambam walked to the bathroom door feeling successful about his outfit choice. “Ahnmi, I’m leaving the clothes outside here.” Ahnmi took in a deep breath before cracking the door open to grab the outfit that Bambam had left on the floor. To her relief it wasn’t a skimpy outfit at all. And then her heart sank. She didn’t remember ever owning such a sweater. It certainly wasn’t hers either. She lifted the black hoodie that was embroidered in the back in big white letters, “Mark Tuan; 04” and at the front left corner was another inscription of Mark’s name. How did Bambam find Mark’s sweater in her closet? She wondered if Mark and the boys were in on a joke together. However, as she reached into the pocket of the sweater, she found a note with Yugyeom’s house address, confirming it wasn’t a joke. - Ahnmi sat at the bus stop in her school uniform, shivering. Her school had switched to spring uniforms already even though it was still chilly out. It was even colder here, outside of the city. She hoped Yugyeom would come get her soon, the sun was already beginning to set. Ahnmi looked anxiously at her watch as the sun went down, leaving only a faint glow in the sky. Did Yugyeom forget about her? Times like these she really wished she had a phone. Too bad Appa insisted she could only get one once she entered high school. One more year left! To her relief a figure in a black hoodie began walking towards her. “Yugyeom?” Ahnmi called out, only to find that it was not her cousin. Instead a thin, red-haired boy looked at her curiously. “Ah, nevermind.” He nodded his head and proceeded to walk away. Ahnmi bit her lip as she watched her only hope slipping away. “Umm,” Ahnmi spoke up again, feeling her heart beating crazily against her chest. The boy turned around to her again, this time looking her up and down closely. Flustered, Ahnmi unrolled the crumpled piece of paper in her hands and showed it to him. “D-do you know this place?” The boy walked closer to her to read the slip of paper. He pronounced it slowly under his breath. “Ah,” he mumbled. He turned to Ahnmi with a nod. “This is my neighbor’s house.” Ahnmi looked up at him in surprise. Fate had never been so kind to her. What were the chances she would run into Yugyeom’s neighbor? “Follow me,” he told her briskly. She looked at him curiously. Was that an accent? It didn’t sound like Yugyeom’s accent though. “Thanks,” Ahnmi added as she followed beside the boy. “Mark?” He turned to her again. “Ah, I was just reading your sweater,” Ahnmi explained. He smiled, making her feel more at ease. Mark watched as the petite girl in the foreign uniform walked beside him. She was dressed in such thin clothes even though spring had barely begun. He could see she was cold from the goosebumps all over her arm. Being the kind Samaritan that he was, Mark began taking off his hoodie. He wrapped it around her shoulders. Ahnmi looked up in alarm. “No, it’s okay. You’ll be cold!” Mark shook his head. “The weather is cold. You’re shaky.” Ahnmi chuckled at his phrasing and Mark grimaced inwardly, wishing his Korean were better. Ahnmi gave him a slight bow, taking the sweater he offered. “Thank you,” she paused. “Are you…a foreign exchange student?” Mark nodded his head. “I’m Taiwanese American.” “Wow,” Ahnmi said with adoration. She wished she had the courage to study abroad at such a young age. “You’re very brave,” she added quietly. “Brave?” Mark asked. “Mmm,” Ahnmi thought carefully. “…strong. I want to be strong like you.” Mark blushed at the sudden compliment. Even though his red hair made him look sharp and intimidating, Ahnmi found herself relaxing with this kind stranger. “Over there,” Mark spoke up, pointing at the house in front of them. Ahnmi bowed again to her kind savior. “Thanks again Mark-ssi!” “Good luck,” he replied back before heading over to his own house. Ahnmi smiled to herself, feeling warm inside despite the cool evening breeze. And then she remembered the hoodie over her shoulders. “Ah, your sweat…er…” When she turned around he was already gone. - Ahnmi sighed as she put the sweater on again. She had forgotten that memory from so long ago, before Mark was friends with Yugyeom, before she had ever known Mark as Mark. Although Bambam had chosen to pair it up with a mini dress her mom had bought for her, which she had never worn because it was too short, it was comforting to have the hoodie over her shoulders again. Ahnmi entered her bedroom again shyly. “Wow~!” Bambam exaggerated in awe of his own coordination. “Amazing!” Jackson and Youngjae joined in on the cheering, making Ahnmi feel even more shy. “Do you approve of Bambam’s fashion?” Jinyoung asked her. She nodded slowly before Bambam cut her off with a snap to Jinyoung. “Of course she does!” he replied sassily. “So where did you get this sweater?” Yugyeom asked curiously. The rest of the guys nodded their heads in anticipation. Ahnmi smiled, glancing at Mark who was sleeping on her bed. “It’s a long story.” “Oooooh!” Jackson gasped. “You guys have history!” Ahnmi chuckled, raising her eyebrows arrogantly. “It predates your friendships.” “Oh, are you bragging?” Youngjae teased. Jackson made a gesture to Jinyoung and Youngjae. Suddenly he raised his hand in the air. “One!” he yelled out suddenly and one by one the guys began counting up until they had reached six. Ahnmi looked at the guys flustered. “Seven?” “Nope doesn’t count!” Jackson declared. “You’re last so you have to cook breakfast!” “Ahh,” Ahnmi nodded her head, finally understanding what the guys were up to. She looked at Mark who was still sleeping despite all the noise in the bedroom. “Mark sunbae?” Jackson broke out in laughter, just remembering the sleeping hyung on the bed. “He can help you cook too.” The guys laughed, slowly exiting her bedroom and headed to Mark’s place. Ahnmi walked over to Mark, tapping his shoulder gently. “Mark, wake up,” she whispered. Mark opened his eyes lazily. “Are we eating yet?” he murmured. Ahnmi gave him an apologetic smile. “You lost the game while you were sleeping. We have to cook breakfast for them.” Mark sighed at the ridiculousness of the guys. “Well, at least we’re gonna be eating soon.” As Mark got up from the bed he smiled at Bambam’s coordination. He hadn’t seen that sweater in a while. Ahnmi smiled back at him as she showed him the back of the sweater. “I’m Mark Tuan today!” - “Don’t make my food too oily,” Jackson insisted as he hovered over the shoulders of Ahnmi and Mark. “I’m on a diet.” “Diet?” Ahnmi asked in surprise. “Why?” “This handsomeness comes at a price,” Jackson joked, flashing a smile. Ahnmi chuckled. “You seem pretty fit to me, Sunbae,” she commented quietly as she began cracking eggs into a bowl. Mark pulled out a pair of chopsticks and began whisking the eggs as she dropped them in. “I have to gain more muscles for martial arts,” Jackson explained. Ahnmi glanced up at Jackson who was in a sleeveless white shirt that showcased his biceps. “You look very muscular, Sunbae.” Jackson smiled, turning slightly pink from the compliment. “It’s good having you around Ahnmi!” She grinned at the reciprocated affections. Mark nudged her. “You should feel them,” he suggested, grinning cheekily at Jackson. Ahnmi blushed, shaking her head. That didn’t seem like a respectful thing for a hoobae to do. Jackson went up to her and flexed his arms, winking at Mark. “Go ahead, Ahnmi, feel them.” Ahnmi turned red in the face at this sudden dare. “J-J-Jackson s-sunbae—” Putting down the bowl of eggs, Mark took Ahnmi’s arm and forced her hand onto Jackson’s bicep. Both guys laughed at the red faced, flustered girl before them. She touched Jackson gently. “W-wow Sunbae,” Ahnmi whispered in awe. Jackson smiled to himself quite pleased. Although she didn’t have much to compare to as his were the first biceps she had ever felt, nevertheless she was still impressed by the size and firmness. Jackson looked at Ahnmi who was now staring at him with admiration. He suddenly felt quite embarrassed for bragging. He pointed suddenly at Mark who was cooking the eggs by now. “Have you seen Mark’s abs?!” he yelled suddenly. Mark scoffed as he flipped over an omelet. “Touch Jackson’s thighs, Ahnmi,” Mark suggested, ignoring the approaching Jackson. Ahnmi wasn’t sure how to respond. She was only supposed to be cooking but instead she was doing none of it and just touching Jackson’s body parts. Suddenly, Jackson whipped up Mark’s vulnerable t-shirt as he was turning over another omelet. “JACKSON!” Mark yelled loudly in surprise, almost dropping the pan of eggs. Mark whipped his head quickly to Ahnmi to find that her hands were already up to her face and covering her eyes. The two boys bit their lips at the same time, looking at the precious girl in front of them. “Sssssssunbae!” Ahnmi managed to say with her eyes still tightly shut behind her hands. She was now tomato red and her heart was practically jumping out of her chest. Yugyeom walked into the kitchen curiously. “What’s with all the yelling?” Ahnmi turned around to her cousin, looking at him desperately. “Your friends are stripping each other!” Jackson laughed at the suddenly loud Ahnmi. He placed his hands over his eyes and squealed. “Sssssunbae!” he teased. Ahnmi gave a pout before heading back towards the fridge to prepare more food. Yugyeom laughed at the situation. “You guys, Ahnmi is more sheltered than you think. Try to refrain from flashing body parts at her!” “She felt my biceps!” Jackson confidently bragged to Yugyeom who could only roll his eyes in response. He walked over to Yugyeom and put his hand on his arm. “J-J-Jackson s-sunbae!” he imitated, causing Yugyeom to burst out laughing. “You’re gonna give my cousin a heart attack, Jackson! She’s never even touched my biceps!” Jackson looked at him in surprise. “Really?” Yugyeom pushed Jackson. “Don’t be proud of such a weird thing. You’re gonna look like a pervert!” Jackson laughed, raising his eyebrows suggestively at Yugyeom. “Hey Yugyeom, you wanna touch my biceps too?” “J-J-Jackson sunbae!” Mark and Ahnmi continued cooking, ignoring the loud disruption going on in front of them. Mark chuckled as Ahnmi stood beside him again. “You didn’t see anything did you?” Ahnmi sighed in exhaustion. “Just my life flashing before my eyes.” - “Breakfast!!!” Mark yelled when the final plate of food was placed onto his living room table. Ahnmi flinched in surprise at his sudden loudness, causing him to laugh loudly. “Smells good!” Jaebum complimented as he sat down. Ahnmi moved the plate of sausages strategically in front of him. He smiled at her gesture. She bowed slightly. “I heard you like meat.” Jaebum grinned, nodding in agreement. He punched Yugyeom on the shoulder. “You need to learn from your cousin.” “Don’t be nice to Jaebum hyung, Ahnmi! It’s causing me more trouble,” Yugyeom complained jokingly as he dug into the food. “Thank you Mark! You’re welcome guys!” Mark spoke up. Ahnmi chuckled as she sat beside him. “Thank you Mark…sunbae,” she replied quietly to him. He gave her a playful wink. “Eww~!” Bambam interrupted, pushing Mark as he sat between him and Ahnmi. Jackson took a seat on the other side of Ahnmi. “Thanks for the meal, Ahnmi!” Ahnmi blushed at the undeserved compliment while Mark sent a glare at Jackson. Jinyoung smiled back at Mark, sending hand hearts his way. Youngjae put some of the omelet onto Ahnmi’s plate. “What do you want to learn first, buddy?” Ahnmi blushed as all the guys turned their attention to her. “Uhh, I’m not sure.” “Just pick the person you want to hang out with the most!” Jackson spoke up confidently, sending Ahnmi several winks and suggestive eyebrow raises. Ahnmi smiled uncomfortably. “Umm…Jaebum sunbae?” she finally mustered up. All the guys looked at her with surprise while Jackson gave a displeased expression, shoving omelet into his mouth. “Did you mean Youngjae?” Youngjae asked before laughing at his own joke. Jaebum looked at her shyly, ignoring Youngjae. “I don’t know what to teach you though.” “B boy!” Bambam exclaimed in excitement. Jaebum looked at Ahnmi cautiously for consent. She turned pink. “I’d like to see. I don’t know if I can do it in this dress though.” “You failed, Bambam!” Jackson yelled out. “Hey, Noona looks good. That’s all that matters,” Bambam defended himself. “You can still do it. We’ll just look away when your dress flips over,” Yugyeom reasoned. Youngjae made a face at him. “Ahnmi is a LADY!” Youngjae blurted out in mixed Korean and English. “She’s a lady?” Mark responded back. “YO man! Ahnmi is a lady, you know?” Jaebum looked at Ahnmi, ignoring the noise around them. He was totally taken aback that Ahnmi would choose him out of all the guys when they had barely interacted at all. He was a little uncomfortable actually. He didn’t have much interactions with girls and Ahnmi was the most fragile looking girl he had ever seen. What if she broke an arm or leg while trying to b boy? “I can teach you some easy steps. You can just change into something more comfortable.” “Hey,” Bambam pouted. Ahnmi nodded her head at Jaebum. She gave Bambam a pat on the head. “We can take some selfies Bambam, before I change.” Pleased, Bambam went back to eating. Jinyoung leaned in closer to Ahnmi. “What about me? We should take selfies together too.” Ahnmi blushed but nodded her head as well. “Well then I want a selfie too!” “Me too!” Jackson and Youngjae joined in boisterously. Mark laughed at the two, finishing off the last bite of food. He grabbed a pitcher of water from the fridge and poured himself a glass. “Let’s go!” he declared. “Go where?” Yugyeom asked. Mark shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.” “I…I’m gonna go change…I’ll be back,” Ahnmi said as she slowly got up. She looked to Bambam and Jinyoung. “Picture?” The two guys exchanged smiles before following Ahnmi back to Yugyeom’s house. Yugyeom gave Jaebum a look. “I feel like those two are up to no good.” “I can’t believe she picked me,” Jaebum commented, still not fully recovered from the shock. Jackson scoffed. “You’re so special, Hyung!” Yugyeom chuckled at Jackson’s sarcasm. “She’s shy but she’s actually a people’s person. She really just wants to be friends with everyone.” “I see,” Jaebum replied. “I guess he’s not so special then,” Jackson whispered. Jaebum shot a glare at him, causing Jackson to wink back playfully. “So how did your sweater end up with Ahnmi?” Yugyeom asked Mark. He answered with a shrug. Yugyeom looked at him suspiciously but let the subject go. He turned to Jaebum. “Don’t teach her anything too hard.” “Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to,” Yugyeom turned to the other guys in the room. “That goes for you hyungs too. I have her inhaler with me. If you’re gonna make her do a lot of physical activity, keep it with you. She says she doesn’t need it but it always happens randomly, so you never know.” “Wow, you’re very admirable right now,” Youngjae said, looking at Yugyeom with stars in his eyes. “I’m serious though, once she starts wheezing, even with the inhaler, it’ll last all night and she won’t be able to sleep.” he continued seriously. The guys around him nodded their heads seriously. “But more importantly, if you see her acting slower and if her eyes aren’t focusing, make her sit down and drink water.” Jackson looked more concerned. “Is…Is Ahnmi’s health okay?” Yugyeom made a weak smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, she’s fine for the most part, but she’s been passing out more often lately. Only when she’s doing too much activity or under a lot of stress though.” Jaebum put his arm around Yugyeom. “Don’t worry. She’s got six more guys to help her now. We’ll watch over her carefully.” Yugyeom smiled at them gratefully. “Thanks. Ahnmi has been anemic and asthmatic since we were kids and usually I wouldn’t be worried but with the recent separation from her parents and the new school with all the boys, I feel like she’s under more stress than she admits.” Youngjae put his arm around Yugyeom as well. “Don’t worry, Yugyeom. Friends support each other. Ahnmi is our friend now too.” Jackson and Mark nodded along. Just then the trio entered the house again, Bambam and Jinyoung laughing loudly. Ahnmi stepped back in, still in Mark’s sweater but now she had on a black choker, a crop top and black, ripped high-waisted shorts with black thigh high socks. “Hiphop style!” Bambam introduced. “I suggested the socks,” Jinyoung added proudly. “Woah…” was all the guys could muster up. Yugyeom frowned. “You own a crop top?” Ahnmi looked at her cousin desperately. “Bambam. He cut my tank top.” “And the choker?” Yugyeom continued to inquire. Ahnmi blushed. “It’s Bambam’s.” Bambam put his arm around Ahnmi, very pleased with his coordination. “So I did not fail!” Jackson winked at Ahnmi. “You should wear this all the time.” Yugyeom pushed Jackson, making Youngjae laugh. “Let’s start the b-boy lesson then,” Jinyoung declared, pushing Jaebum closer to Ahnmi. Jaebum blushed as Ahnmi looked up at him with a smile. “I’m out!” Mark suddenly yelled. “I’m 2 out!” Bambam yelled after him, the two heading into the next room. “I’m 3 out!” Jackson added, following their lead. Ahnmi watched with wide eyes as all the guys yelled and left for the other room, leaving her alone with Jaebum. She looked at her sunbae, shocked. “W-what was that?” she mumbled. Jaebum chuckled to himself. “It’s a thing,” he explained vaguely. “You’ll get used to it eventually.” Ahnmi nodded her head quietly. He cleared his throat awkwardly before clapping his hands together. “I guess we’ll start then?” Ahnmi clapped her hands timidly as Jaebum turned on some music from his phone. Jaebum felt his face burning up as he proceeded to top rock, looking straight towards the floor, too embarrassed to look at Ahnmi. “Wow,” Ahnmi whispered in awe even though he had just begun. Jaebum couldn’t help smiling. He suddenly dropped to the floor, twisting and turning his body in ways Ahnmi couldn’t even explain. She looked at Jaebum with big, admiring eyes. “Sunbae…you’re amazing.” Jaebum chuckled in embarrassment. Ahnmi kept her head down shyly. “I-I don’t know if I can learn all that.” Jaebum smiled encouragingly. “I can teach you the beginning steps. It’s called top rocking. All you need to do is feel the rhythm.” Ahnmi looked up courageously. “I’ll try my best.” Jaebum raised his fist slightly. “Fighting!” Jaebum replayed the music and the two began top rocking slowly. Ahnmi looked at Jaebum earnestly as she tried to do with her legs what he was doing with his. She giggled with half excitement and embarrassment. “Am I doing okay?” Jaebum smiled at her awkward footwork. “You’re getting there.” Just then Yugyeom reentered the room and broke out in wild laughter. The sight of his cousin’s horrible dancing was too much for him to handle. Jackson joined in, the two toppling over one another. “Ahnmi!” Jackson yelled, rolling on the floor while hugging his stomach. Ahnmi stopped moving, her face burning red. Seeing her distress, Jaebum went over to the two, looking at them sternly. “I have footage of you dancing for the first time too, you know,” Jaebum mentioned threateningly at Jackson, who stopped laughing immediately. He turned to Ahnmi and made a formal bow to her on the floor. “Please forgive me,” he said seriously, making her smile reappear. “I’m pretty bad, aren’t I?” she crouched down in defeat. Jaebum sat down beside her. “Everything gets better with practice.” Ahnmi looked at Jaebum gratefully. Even though she knew she was bad at dancing, she was thankful for his effort and patience to teach her. Jaebum smiled at her and helped her up. “Shall we end this lesson and try something else?” he asked. Ahnmi nodded her head as the two walked over to the other room where the others had gone. Ahnmi peeked her head in the room to find that it was Mark’s bedroom. It was moderately neat, considering it was a teenage boy’s room, with plain white walls and accents of red and black. On his walls were posters of Spiderman and Los Angeles. He had a small TV and in the corner was the classic couch covered in a pile of clothes. Bambam and Youngjae were on the floor in front of the TV, playing videogames while Jinyoung laid on the bed, watching them. Next to Jinyoung was Mark who was scrolling on his phone. “Who’s teaching Ahnmi next? Jinyoung? Mark?” Jaebum called out. Jinyoung glanced up at them. “You finished already?” Ahnmi looked disheartened. “I wasn’t very good.” Jinyoung smiled at her reassuringly. “B-boy is hard to learn.” Mark turned to them lazily, looking up from his phone. “You should learn tricking.” “Tricking?” Ahnmi asked curiously. “Just kidding,” he responded back just as lazily. Jackson and Yugyeom reentered the room. “Guys let’s do something exciting!” Jackson complained, only to be ignored by all the guys. “Mark!” Mark turned his back to them again, resuming his phone scrolling. “Markiepooh~!” Jackson insisted. “TUAN YI EN!” Ahnmi chuckled to herself at Jackson’s insistence. “Markiepooh,” she said to herself quietly. She was really warming up to Jackson’s free spirit. She wondered if she would ever get a nickname from him too. Jackson glanced at Ahnmi after hearing her repeat him. “Ahniepooh!” Jackson cooed her way. Ahnmi blushed, shaking her head. Mark turned back around, shaking his head as well. Ahnmi glanced at Mark and smiled at the fact they were on the same wavelength. “That’s not original,” they both said at the same time. Ahnmi’s smile grew wider. “Jynx!” Mark called out. “Can’t speak until you buy me a soda!” Ahnmi looked from Mark to Jackson questioningly. Jackson shrugged his shoulders. “Those are the rules, Ahnmi.” “Hey, we’re trying to get her to talk more,” Jinyoung looked to Mark sternly. Mark chuckled, looking back at Ahnmi. “Quiet isn’t bad,” he replied back, looking into her eyes. “Your quiet is bad,” Jinyoung remarked. Yugyeom laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Ahnmi talks more than you Mark hyung.” “Guys, I talk! If you listened, you would know,” Mark replied sassily. “So let’s do something!” Jackson insisted. “Mark, suggest something!” Mark shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s take a nap.” Jackson gave him an unamused face. Finishing a round of their game, Youngjae turned his attention to the others. “You guys wanna play soccer?” Ahnmi shook her head vigorously. Jinyoung smiled evilly, wagging his finger side to side at her. “Only people who can talk can suggest what to do.” Yugyeom burst out laughing at the crestfallen Ahnmi. “Ahnmi and Bambam should be the team leaders,” Jinyoung announced. Bambam smiled, quite flattered, while Ahnmi looked devastated, not wanting to play a large role in the game. “Because we can’t have two of the worst players on one team.” Yuyeom laughed even louder at Jinyoung’s back-to-back savagery. Bambam gave Jinyoung a soft push, offended. “I’m not the worst player!” he complained. All the guys looked at him knowingly. He smiled bashfully before pointing at Ahnmi. “Noona is!” Jackson put an arm around Ahnmi. “You’ll have to prove that by beating her in a game.” “Loser has to…” Youngjae paused thoughtfully. “Do aegyo!” Jackson declared, laughing heartily as both Bambam and Ahnmi looked distressed. Ahnmi had a sick feeling in her stomach that today was going to be a lot longer than she was anticipating. - Thanks for reading! This series updates every Friday and Saturday 8PM EST.

[partyinthemysterymachine]

Coffee Talk

Ch. 4/?

“Oh. Harry. It’s you.”

The beam dropped to a spotlight on the floor. Slowly, Harry lowered his arms and squinted, disoriented and vision burned with white, into the cafe. The flashlight dimly reflected back on its handler, and Harry could make out simple definitions of the very civilian he had been wondering about.

He exhaled sharply and swung the pipe loosely at his side. His heart was thudding a mile a minute and he took two more deliberate breaths to encourage it back to relaxation. Then he rubbed the back of his hand into his eye to try to get out the spotting from the violent assault with the flashlight. “Jesus Christ, James,” he grumbled. “You scared me half to death. How long were you going to wait to say something?”

“Sorry,” came the embarrassed apology. “I was asleep.”

“You were asleep?” Harry clarified incredulously, looking up. James remained seated behind the table, and only got to his feet when Harry began to make his approach. Harry stopped where he was, and for the first time was able to get a full impression of Silent Hill’s ward.

James turned his flashlight to point at the ceiling. He held a compact device meant to be pinned. With the light shining into the stucco sky, it showered the immediate vicinity with a strong enough light to see most of the room. It also meant both of them could see eye to eye. Though they had a brief time to do their first impression studies in the park, now they could get a more comprehensive look at each other. 

Their meeting at Rosewater Park felt like such a long time ago, anyway.

To Harry, James nearly reached his height. He wagered James stood an inch or two beneath him. He looked about average build, but the jacket seemed a little big and his jeans appeared to hang looser in the legs. The boots on his feet looked dark and stained, or maybe they were wet. He didn’t recognize any of the patches save for the all-American flag sewn on the pocket, and besides all that, his wardrobe was truly unremarkable. James dressed like he’d either been in a hurry, or simply threw on whatever was in arm’s reach.

Or maybe this was the look of a man who didn’t care. Harry frowned gently into the pale face that was ordinary at best and averagely-handsome-on-the-verge-of-averagely-pretty in the right light.  He saw his face better now that they were directly in front of each other, and the overhead light that James made cast hollow shadows on his sad, tired self.

James was the most depressing man he’d ever met. It was crushing to look into his eyes. They were distant and foggy, as though he were in a waking dream. He felt regarded by him in the same way that told another person that he was zoning out; he didn’t feel seen. These eyes were dead and set in a shell of a man. He recalled them being green but in this meager light, they looked like muddy sewer water.

Looking at him again, wardrobe was definitely on a mid-to-lower-tier effort of looking functional. He could pass as normal, if not a little troubled, if no one considered him for very long. He was eye-catching for his hair and perhaps could turn someone’s head, but Harry saw an unremarkable face. As he’d thought before, James was average. He’d suit a person looking for traditional expectations and an average life. They’d get married in a modest ceremony, probably at a church and reception in someone’s family’s back yard. They’d live together in their plain one bedroom apartment until they saved enough to purchase their own house. Then they’d move in, to a street that was dotted with houses of various sizes, but all were the same in that they were were boring, unoriginal, and would be fondly called ‘safe and sound’ by older people chatting in the supermarket. And they’d be perfectly happy with that.

The longer he stared into James’s face, the more drained he began to feel. James oozed a pathetic sadness that made him want to spend as little time as possible around him. He should have been feeling relieved to see him, but James was an uncomfortable person and Harry didn’t know yet if he wanted to endure that any longer than ten minutes tops at a time.

Harry offered him a strange, uneasy smile. 

James offered him nothing in return.

“Yeah. I figured this was a safe place to take a quick nap. It’s dangerous out there.”

If he had met Harry when he first arrived in Silent Hill, he would have been worlds happier to see him. He would have been more congenial, even show more emotion. It would have been easier to bond with him over being on the same mission to find their missing persons. 

That would have been pretty nice.

Harry drew his lips together and looked towards the lobby. “Yeah, so you know about all that, too?”

“Yeah. It’s hard not to.”

What a riveting conversationalist James was turning out to be. Harry stuffed a hand into his pocket and glanced at him. “It seems kinda quiet out there.”

James’s shoulders lifted a fraction to shrug, and he too took a gander towards the main entrance. What Harry said seemed to catch up with him then, and he turned a muddled frown back to him. “Wait, what?”

“Hm?” Now both men were frowning at each other, confused and wary. 

“What do you mean, ‘so you know about that too’?”

Harry took the defense. “Well, what did you mean by ‘it’s dangerous out there’?”

“There are monsters out there,” James told him firmly. “This is not a normal town.”

“I know. We’ve been over this. Kind of.” Harry sighed as James clearly struggled to connect the dots. “We met before in the park.”

“Yeah. I remember that. You’re looking for your daughter.”

“Right, and you said that this wasn’t a normal town, and I agreed.”

There was a pause. “Okay. But how did you know that there were monsters out there?”

Harry stared at him. He collected that James wasn’t playing with a full deck, but now he suspected that even the dealer was out on a smoke break. “I’ve been here before. I know there are monsters. The problem I was seeing was that I haven’t seen any yet. It’s really quiet out there for a town that was stalking me for most of my time here.”

He quickly felt guilty. Harry had gotten impatient and frustrated with James in record time and he was taking it out on him. He mentally took a step back, drew another one of his learned calming breaths, and recomposed himself. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to come across so curt. I’m just having a hard time readjusting to being back here.”

James didn’t seem offended. Somehow that made Harry’s guilt a little worse, and he pushed right past that for the sake of his sanity. The flashlight was lowered and placed on the table, reducing their overall light, and bringing the more unflattering, disturbing shadows to their faces. James took his seat again, leaning back into the coarse padded booth, and put his hands on his knees to stretch. Harry awkwardly stood there another moment as he realized that they were going to have a longer chat, and drug a chair over to get comfortable across from him.

Sitting down felt good. He didn’t notice how tired he was already until his legs were thanking him. He placed the pipe on the table, drawing a glimpse of it from James. Once they’d both settled, James fixed Harry with his attention.

“How the hell did you get out of Silent Hill? What were you even doing here in the first place?”

Harry’s laugh sounded exhausted. “That’s a really long story, man. I was here.. oh, seventeen years ago? Yeah,” he chuckled at James’s incredulous face. “that puts some age on me, huh?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been good at guessing peoples’ ages.”

“I’ll take a compliment where I can get it,” he grinned. “But, yeah.. seventeen years ago.” Harry sobered. “My daughter was having some nightmares. She wanted to be taken to Silent Hill, and I had no other choice. I loved her, so if she wanted to go to Silent Hill we were going to go to Silent Hill if it meant she could get rid of those nightmares.

“We got in the car and we went. There was an accident as soon as we got here, I got knocked out, woke up, and Cheryl was gone.”

James cut him off. “You said your daughter’s name was Heather.”

“Yes. She’s Heather now,” Harry confirmed, not without a wince. “But she was Cheryl then. Don’t think about it too hard,” he said, waving his hand in the air. “I’m not going to get into all of it now. The point is that I drove my daughter here when she was a little girl, and she got lost, and I went looking for her. I ran all over this damn town looking for her, saw all sorts of depraved things and monsters and things I didn’t ever want to see again, hell - I didn’t ever want to be in this goddamn place again for as long as I lived.”

Harry’s shoulders sank, and he slowly ran his hand down his face. It hit him again that he was really here one more time, and that he couldn’t save his little family from hell on earth. He shook his head at himself, and sat up straighter in the chair. “We got out. Things had happened and when we left, Cheryl wasn’t the same, and.. I’m not going to get into the specifics, James. It’s hard to explain and it doesn’t make sense and I’ve never been able to make any sense of it. The point is that I’m here again for the same reason: my daughter is lost and I know that she’s here. I have to find her and take her home and get this horrible place out of our lives forever.”

James was forced to accept that. He nodded, and looked away. “That’s.. sure is a lot. Wow.” Harry glanced at him, and smiled the same little smile that popped up on James’s face at his flub. “I don’t know what to say. If she’s here, we’ll find her.” He looked at him, sad and certain. “You gotta get out of here for good.”

“Thanks. We will.” Harry turned in the chair, setting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together. “What about you? What are you doing here? Are you from Silent Hill?”

James avoided his eyes as he prepared an answer that he wouldn’t have to say. The radio in his pocket screeched awake, jolting Harry so hard he nearly fell out of his seat. The noise was piercing, crackling and popping and tuning itself between jarring frequencies. James immediately rose, Harry following in a fraction of a second, and he snatched the light from the table. 

“Take this,” James said, tossing it at Harry’s chest. Harry caught it in the nick of time, fumbling to find the tight pinch clasp to tuck onto his jacket as he grabbed his weapon. “Let’s go.”

“Don’t you need it?” Harry asked belatedly over the din of the radio. James pushed past him, heading for the back of the cafe, and clicked on the light that Harry neglected to notice.

“I have my own.”

Harry took off after James right as his heels. The radio screamed its gravelly warnings, throwing this poor loyal father right back into his tormented memories, and his heart thrummed so hard he wished he could rip it out of his chest and throw it as far as his arm would take it.

This was his reality again. This was Silent Hill.

pt 1//pt 2//pt 3//pt 5//pt 6//  series on ao3

[lalka-laski]

Do you always carry breath mints? Nope, although maybe I should with this mandatory mask-wearing.  What is the point of scented pens / pencils / erasers? That’s a good question?  Do you buy / wear band-aids with cartoon characters on them? I may or may not have a box of Disney Princess band-aids in my medicine cabinet right now...  Are you amused by celebrity fashion flubs? Not really. I liked all those red carpet fashion panel shows when I was younger but in retrospect, it’s just a form of bullying. A “Best Dressed” list is fine, but a “Worst Dressed” is unnecessary and cruel.  What do you think your reaction would be upon entering the White House? Pure rage 

Do you buy and wear crazy looking socks? Nope. I occasionally buy cute ones if I can’t resist the design but I don’t like wearing socks in general  Would you run down the street wearing a tutu, fishnets, & flippers? Would I get money for it? Have you ever grown your own sea monkeys or dinosaurs? I don’t think so  Would you want to travel into deep space? The thought TERRIFIES me to no end  Have you ever thrown a game controller (or the game) and broke it? Nope, I don’t play video games Did you ever own an Etch-a-Sketch? Mhm. I wasn’t very good at it though Do / did you ever have glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling? No, sadly  Does your house have an attic that had stuff in it when you moved in? Not that I know of  What movie were you really worked up for that ended up disappointing you? Most movies disappoint me just because they bore me and I don’t have the attention span  Does / did your school have special dress-up days? Yes, and I loved them!  What cartoons did you watch when you were little? Oh God, I have a list! My favorites as a little kid were probably Blue’s Clues and Little Bear. And then Rugrats, of course! Do you eat peanut shells along with the peanuts? I don’t eat peanuts, period.  Would you eat a meal cooked by Hannibal Lecter? That’s a no from me dawg  Have you ever gone white-water rafting? No but I would like to try it  What part of a paper is hardest for you to write? CONCLUSIONS! Does your grandma wear an apron when she cooks? This question is a little raw for me This is your chance to get it out! Place random rant here. I! AM! TIRED!  How often do you need “me” time? Probably more than the average person. I’m very fortunate to be dating/living with someone who not only understands and respects that, but also who needs plenty of his own “me time” too.  Was Jim Morrison truly “an American Poet”, in your opinion? Eh...  Does it bother you that almost everything is done on computers now? No, I enjoy that Have you ever gotten stuck in a revolving door? Nope, surprisingly  Who is your favorite superhero? Batman? I don’t know.  KFC Chicken: original or extra crispy? I’m a vegetarian. But I have heard they’re gonna roll out meatless chicken soon? If so, SIGN ME UP!  Pop-Tarts vs. Toaster Strudels. Discuss. OH this is just plain rude. I love both! I guess if you tied me down and made me choose I’d pick Pop-Tarts though, just because they have a wider variety of flavors and serving options.  Do you believe there are subliminal messages in songs? Sure Think about your first kiss. Did you have any idea what you were doing? Nope. It wasn’t spectacular but it wasn’t necessarily bad either.  Do you “fake bake”? If I do, I should get my money back Would you play Jumanji, if given the chance? Hell no. And certainly not this year!! Does it bother / offend you when someone calls something (not someONE) gay? People don’t really use that word as an insult anymore. And the only people I know who do are LGBT folks who use it ironically.  Do you always make sure your cell phone is charged before going somewhere? I try to. Or I just toss my charger in my purse Did you get Happy Meals just for the toys as a kid? Sometimes  Have you ever seen your parents cry? If so, how did it make you feel? Mhm. Talk about gut-wrenching. UGH!  What are your thoughts on Chuck Norris? I don’t give a shit What is the most annoying sound in the world? Certain people’s voices REALLLLY grate me What would you do if Neil Patrick Harris stole your car? Is this some sort of reference I’m not getting? Do you honestly care about calories and fat content? I try to watch my calories but I’m not insane about it. I’ve down the crazy counting disordered eating thing enough in the past.  How do you feel about animal testing? I find it cruel for cosmetic purposes but for medical reasons? The lines are blurred Do you often shift blame towards others? Sometimes I guess Your very first best friend: Is he / she STILL your best friend? Mhm!  What would you do if a rabid animal was chasing you? Run away?  Do you add condiments to your ice cream, or just eat it plain? Sometimes hot fudge or peanut butter. Mmm.. I wonder what kind of ice cream I’ll get tomorrow!  Have you ever witnessed a crime? Nothing major What’s the coolest personalized license plate you’ve ever seen? They’re all kinda silly if you ask me

[thechichihub]

The Ghanaian Man Boakye

The news today read Black Lives Matter. We were tired of the endless lists of black women, black men and transsexuals who had lost their lives for little to no crime gravity and we decided to change the dial to get a breath of fresh air. But even as I tried changing the channel, the news of a black woman who I have known personally struck me. She committed suicide. This time though the cops were not responsible for her death and many feminists blamed her death to male incompetences and hence, RIP Men are trash were once again the reigning headlines. Nigeria had just done its independence and many would think of our country as one that would blossom when the whites left us. We had the steel company, at least our farmers were still cocoa farmers and the ofada rice business was developing in what looked like a post independent Nigeria. Cries of joy were heard on the street as Nigerians with little or no knowledge of the task ahead of them rejoiced about the independence. Finally, we could have our own people rule us and our parastatals would no longer be run by European delegates handpicked by her majesty. But even with the independence, one thing I found baffling was that most products were still imported from the U.K . It was as if we still needed the queens validation on our cereals and processed foods before they became good for consuming. As independent as Nigeria was, it did not have its own processing mine. I recall growing up in Lagos. Those days Lagos had this type of European scent. The streets were almost bereft of the dirts that clog gutters these days and our drainages were well functioning when the queen was still ruling us. What of our naira? Well it had value and 5 naira then could do a lot. In those sunny days of growing up I met Glory. She was always a childhood friend and I would go to her house when I felt bored and wanted someone to talk to. She always had a listening ear and was keen on cracking jokes and making me laugh hard to those jokes. After the whites had left, our parents were elected in different capacities to serve at the government house. And it was in this development that we found our way to the States. The preparation to travel was tedious and at least we were asked to do a lot of foreign exams then. WAEC as we have it today wasn't out then and exams were taken when we arrived at Toronto. Glory chose a major in nursing while I decided to pick a major in psychology. It was still post independence and this school had few blacks who were from affluent homes and whose parents knew the impact of sending their kids abroad to school. I met Boakye who would later become Glory's boyfriend and a whole lot of others. Boakye had a charm most ladies won't resist and even though he was the player type, he still made lots of girls fall genuinely in love with him. I mean me and Boakye were words and opposites. Boakye was so handsome and muscular while people like us with average beauty had no muscles on our bones. Boakye had a nice baritone voice and was always taking solos in the Catholic Church downtown while people like us could only do bathroom singing. What else would I say about Boakye that would reallly describe the type of nigga he was those days. You remember those black American films you watch where a black man wins the attention of many black ladies and he sleeps with them all and settles for a lame church girl. Yes that was Boakye. I would blame Glory because she too like others fell for a muscular player but unlike other girls, she did not remember the rule of the game, "Never love a player if you aren't a player yourself". She would meet Boakye at a mall where she went to buy MacDonalds. Everything went fine until she ordered more than she could pay for and Boakye came to her rescue by paying for her. All she kept telling me was, "Did you see that smile, those white teeth, those arms hidden in the ratchet clothes? Man I love him already". Did I advise her? No I didn't that would count as jealousy and so I left her to experience it first hand but I didn't know it would result in death and now I feel so terrible like I failed at a life exam. The love story climaxed and both started visiting themselves often. Now maybe I didn't describe Glory to you. Well Glory is one of those girls I'd refer to as the created on a Monday. She had a smile that revealed a nice open incisor dentition and a white teeth unblemished by foods she ate. She was thick but her thickness were around her cleavages and hips. She didn't have a fat arm or a big stomach and most days, I really asked myself whether she was thick or just abundantly blessed. Everyone would think her a player but up till she left Nigeria in the 1960's she was a virgin. Then Virginity was something women aspired to remain in until marriage and so she didn't really have canal knowledge or thoughts about how sex was or about how the sex would be. I usually watched her as she danced the Oghene dance swaying hips with heavenly stretch marks and breast heavy with undeveloped breast milk. I always thought then of what I'd do to her if we got alone and even when we eventually got alone, I couldn't do anything to her because that would be so abominable that I'd be stoned to death. So, I had to cover up my manhood and know that this fruit was a forbidden one. A telegram came one day from Glory and she told me that Boakye the player said he'd marry her. That was like the funniest joke I heard throughou that year but I gathered inspiration from nowhere to tell her not to put her mind to his words. I knew three girls Boakye was stroking when he claimed he loved Glory and I advised her to be careful I mean she loved Boakye genuinely and was too naive to look at red flags indicating infidelity. She was all about him and there was nothing I could do. I didn't want to spoil what looked like a perfect relationship and yet I didn't want her to get hurt so all I told her each time she told me about Boakye was be careful. At a point, she thought I was getting jealous and stopped telling me stuffs concerning her. She decided to handle her matters alone. Another Telegram came where she said in plain words that Boakye had rawed her; that she allowed Boakye to have the cookies. Cookies she kept from me was what she let Boakye have on a platter of gold. But when she told me that she was going to have his baby I felt she had gone one strand too far. "Why didn't you do it on days you were infertile? Have you forgotten the tradition? There is this disease in town called HIV and she was rawing a player?" I asked her. She didn't reply my telegrams again and well I thought she had made the right decision. I felt hurt and sorry for her because she was a princess and was the only child of her parents. They sent her here to get a better life and a black Ghanaian man was already shattering the dreams of a better life. Nothing else mattered now than the mess she had gotten herself in and I decide to pay her a visit to talk sense to her. But when I went there who did I see? Boakye! I left disgusted and bade her a sarcastic goodbye. Then the last telegrams came some two months later and that was when my whole world was shattered. The telegrams had vague information about her death and all they told me was that she took an overdose of depression drugs mixed with sleeping drugs. I tuned into the news where I saw girls shouting Black Lives Matter but then this girl wasn't brutally murdered like her predecessors. She wasn't killed by her boyfriend like the South African men do to their girlfriends. She committed suicide. It was deliberate. I don't know if she was talked to doing it but I believe it was her conscious effort as the only finger prints seen on the drugs were her fingerprints. There was even no fingerprint found on her body it was all deliberate and intentional. There was no strangle marks; nothing. The whole stuff was captured by news stations in Nigeria and the newly formed Nigerian newspapers had them in both English and Yoruba languages respectively. We learned of the true details later. Boakye had given her an STD and had also gotten her pregnant. It was the AIDS boom and there were not ARTs available then. She was certain of the impending death but she killed her self because somehow she didn't want to go through the pains and wasting effect of AIDS. She didn't see herself going through karposis sarcoma or other AIDS related cancers. Their relationship became the headlines of my psychology project. Ask me about Boakye. He expired many years back during the AIDS bloom. In the grave, his manhood was no longer impregnating girls and his sweet tongue and muscles were nothing but decomposing bones infested with maggots and fungi.

[topinforma]

New Post has been published on Mortgage News

New Post has been published on http://bit.ly/2kBiY2n

Pension plans in peril

Members of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters rally outside the U.S. Capitol in April to protest a plan by the Central States Pension Fund to reduce payments to retirees. The plan was later rejected by the Treasury Department. (Drew Angerer/Bloomberg)

If you have a pension, you probably breathe a sigh of relief.

Unlike a workplace retirement plan in which you invest and pray that you get decent returns, a pension guarantees you a stream of income. Even if the pension is small, it’s something. It’s there for as long as you live.

Or it used to be.

For an increasing number of retirees in the private and public sector that guarantee is in jeopardy. A lot of pension plans are in peril.

Here’s a troubling development from a story in the Post this week: “A pension fund in Cleveland became the first plan to approve benefit cuts for current retirees — even though it is still years away from running out of cash. The move, some critics say, could open the door for other troubled pension plans to follow suit,” reported Jonnelle Marte.

She goes on to write: “The financially strapped Iron Workers Local 17 Pension fund proposed a plan for extending its lifespan by reducing benefits for workers and retirees. Now that the plan has received final approval, roughly half of the 2,000 participants will see their pension benefits shrink.”

Tips from the Washington Post’s Jonnelle Marte on how to prepare for your retirement in a sluggish stock market. (Dalton Bennett,Jonnelle Marte/The Washington Post)

How much will retirees see their pensions cut?

Well, by 20 percent on average, although some might see a cut of as much as 60 percent.

My heart sank when I read that. And this, “The unprecedented move comes after a 2014 law made it possible for troubled pension plans to reduce benefits to retirees if it would improve the financial health of the fund,” Marte wrote.

Retiree Joe Finley, 63, told Marte this: “You play by all the rules … and then they pull the rug out from under you.”

But it’s not just ironworkers in Cleveland.

— Police retirees organize to fight in Dallas pension crisis

— Multiemployer pension plans in crisis: Troubled plans need public resources to survive

— Hawaii pension fund shortfall hits $12 billion

— Debt panel in North Carolina backs a proposal to ensure pensioners are paid at promised levels

For a lot of people counting on pensions, there could be some rough years ahead.

Color Money question of the week Are you scared your pension may get cut in the future? Send your comments to colorofmoney@washpost.com. Please include your name, city and state. In the subject line put “Pension.”

Live chat today on retirement Join me live to discuss your retirement years. New in 2017, I’ll devote at least one chat a month to issues around retirement.

The first Thursday of every month brings your opportunity to get your retirement questions answered. Today, my guest will be Carolyn McClanahan, a physician turned financial planner. McClanahan, who founded the fee-only Life Planning Partners, based in Jacksonville, Fla., concentrates on how health intersects with personal finance, including long-term care issues. And by the way, she does not sell long-term care insurance.

So what’s on your mind about your retirement? I’m also hoping young adults join the discussion. It’s never too early to do some retirement planning. To participate in the chat click this link.

The Color of Money Retirement Coaches Starting on Mon. Feb. 6, I’ll be taking over the retirement newsletter.This weekly newsletter is your forum. You will have a chance to get answers to your questions about your retirement.

Whether you’re a young adult or seasoned senior it’s never too early or too late to focus on your retirement. So don’t be shy. No question is too basic. If you don’t ask, you won’t know.

On Monday, I’ll introduce you to the team of retirement experts who will be helping me answer your retirement questions. I call them “The Color of Money Retirement Coaches.”

Every Monday we’ll help you navigate to or through this very important time in your life.

Trump supporter uses his money to mend fences A white Texas, man in town for the inauguration of President Trump left a black waitress a huge tip because her smile made him smile. The $450 tip on a $72.60 tab was meant as a “gesture that he hoped everyone could move forward together, the supporter said. For last week’s Color of Money question I asked: Would you be moved by such a financial gesture?”

Steve Re of Freehold, N.J.: “I would not be moved by such a gesture due to several experiences that have either happened to me or that I have witnessed. Bottom line is that some people are just plain prejudiced and will not deal with all people the same way. To me the tip is an apology for past behavior.”

“Nice try to make himself feel better about supporting a racist misogynist,” wrote Barbara Shaw of Boxford, Mass. “I’m glad the waitress was able to appreciate it, but it would have made me feel patronized and demeaned in light of what Trump stands for and has let loose in this country. I don’t think $450 will make much difference when she is arrested for no reason other than being black, unable to access low-cost healthvcare for women through Planned Parenthood, has no health insurance because the ACA was dismantled.”

Jennifer Wooster of Port Washington, (Long Island) N.Y.: “I’d be moved by a large tip with a kind note. Somebody’s showing they care, and that maybe they’re ashamed of their standard-bearer. If Republicans generally feel it’s more up to individuals and not the government to help, then seeing someone actually do this is helpful. This guy represents just a tiny percentage, but kudos to him. Haters gonna hate, but he showed compassion. While ‘trickle down’ doesn’t work, it’s nice to see an exception.”

Brenda Burke from Seattle: “If more of us demonstrate that kind of kindness, what a wonderful world this would be.”

Tom Sabel of Lakewood, Colo.: “I would not be moved by such a superficial gesture. I am sick and tired of listening to Republicans now saying, ‘Ooh, the election is over and now it is time to move forward together as one.’ Kumbaya. Just because some white guy leaves a large tip to a black waitress means nothing. Make no mistake about it, racism is alive and well.”

Bobbie Henderson from Baltimore: “I was somewhat moved by the ‘Thank You’ to the waitress, but I also remember being taught ‘GIVE a man a fish and he will eat for a day. TEACH a man to fish and he will eat for a lifetime!’ It will prove far more helpful to this waitress and others if Trump’s supporters encouraged him to implement programs/ideas, which will help people provide for themselves and their families on a long-term enduring basis.”

Tracy Z. of Washington: “I am moved by Jason White’s generosity but not by his opinions on the problem of race relations in this country. Structural racism is not eliminated by people sharing smiles and kindness. There is plenty of that going on in the American South — on the surface. It is going to take white people educating themselves and working to dismantle systems that enshrine and promote racism. Does Mr. White understand that black people are disproportionately pulled over, harassed, harmed by police? Does he know they are followed in stores? That our public school system criminalizes behavior in black children that is handled at school level with white children? That laws are being implemented — today, not in the past — that seek to make it much harder for many black people to vote? That blacks are arrested for simple drug possession in far greater numbers than whites and when they are released are thrown into a system akin to Jim Crow when it comes to employment, voting, housing? Will Mr. White, a Trump supporter, work to dismantle the system that directly harms this waitress and her family or will he just leave a big tip? I won’t be “moved” until he and people like him commit to the former. (By the way, I’m white.)”

Jennifer Newlin of College Park, Md.: “My nephew’s pastor challenges his congregation to tip 100 percent of the tab — not always, but every once in a while. It is AMAZING to see the wait staff’s reaction. And most of my women friends tip on the high side. It is our way of redistributing wealth and realizing an extra dollar or two can make more difference to wait staff than to us. I think it is indeed moving.”

Color of Money columns this week

If these Girl Scouts can work out a budget, you can, too

Financial discipline is an everyday practice

Readers may write to Michelle Singletary at The Washington Post, 1301 K St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071, or michelle.singletary@washpost.com. Personal responses may not be possible, and comments or questions may be used in a future column, with the writer’s name, unless otherwise requested. To read previous Color of Money columns, go to washingtonpost.com/business.